What with lining up mako specialists, medical personnel, and people to work the excavation equipment, Veld returned to work immediately after dinner and remained at the office into the night. He delegated some of the work to Vincent, including meeting with Shalua to call in as many EMTs as they could, while Veld himself coordinated preparations with the Turks.
By midnight, they were well on track to begin excavating the Deepground site in about twelve hours. They'd put most of it together in less than a day. Shelke estimated there were several hundred mothers and children more or less trapped in one area, with a couple dozen surviving soldiers and support staff stranded in other areas. With everything ready and in place, all they needed was Nero to lead the charge.
The Mothers and children were the priority, unless Nero and Vincent discovered anyone else trapped in a more dangerous spot. That in mind, Nero stood facing the Elevator to Hell, a number of troops with visors flipped up standing in ranks behind him. Veld, having come to see them off before heading to the command center with Shelke, raised an eyebrow.
"That all you're wearing?" he asked, nodding at Nero's skin-tight gray mako suit.
"Don't like me going commando?" Nero quipped. Veld blinked after a half-second. Had the kid just made a joke?
"They'll recognize me in this," Nero explained before Veld could reply. "I promise I'll put some pants on when we're done."
Behind the high collar of his cloak, Vincent looked as if he were trying to choke back a snicker. Veld simply shook his head and clapped the boy on the shoulder.
"Good luck, kid. I hope you find 'em."
Nero nodded. "Thank you, Sir."
Turning to face the elevator, Nero closed his eyes and laid his hands over the up-down buttons. Beyond the wall, Vincent fancied he heard the grinding of iron, the grating of cement. After several minutes, Nero gasped and looked up, taking an unsteady step back.
"Wait until the door opens to follow us," he instructed the troops. "Agent Valentine and I will scout the area and find a safe route down to the survivors. Don't even try to open the door until then. I'll open it from my end. Understood?"
A chorus of "yes, sir's" echoed in the otherwise empty lobby. Turning, Nero pushed the button. The black glass of the elevator door slid to one side, and Nero stepped through.
The elevator's doors closed, and they began to descend. Vincent's stomach lurched upward, then back down. He winced. Beside him, Nero gave no sign that he felt anything.
This would probably be the last chance Vincent would have for hours, to speak to him alone. From this day on, any interaction with him would be strictly on the professional level, if he wanted to have any contact at all.
Glancing sideways, he said, "Nero? I want to apologize for the 'Commander Sable' thing. Veld was right. It was childish. I'm sorry."
Nero blinked and shrugged. "S'okay, Sir. I apologize as well. I'm not...I'm not trying to make things difficult for you."
"They were difficult before you came along," Vincent sighed. "Never mind. Let's just get this done. I'm sorry it took as long as it did."
Nero nodded, the elevator slowing to a halt and the door sliding away. Pitch darkness yawned before them. In the distance, a single emergency light flickered feebly, a dying firefly in the endless black. Nero stepped forward, unperturbed.
Before they could rescue anyone, he and Nero had to first figure out their own location, and then that of the survivors. Shelke might be able to map the location of the microchips, but it was impossible to tell from that alone whether the area they were in was safe, or even passable. To do that, she would need access to the legion of surveillance cameras that dotted the walls and corners of Deepground at every turn. Many of them would have been damaged or disabled, but all of them were useless chunks of wire and plastic without electricity. Therefore, Vincent and Nero had to find one of the generators and activate the cameras, but not the electric fence. Shelke seemed confident that if only they could restore power, she could easily hack into the surviving computer systems and use the data for her own purposes.
"We're a bit higher than I'd like," Nero commented, eyeing the walls. "The gardens are on this level. There's definitely an access point in there. However, I don't know how much is intact. Ordinarily I'd just follow the shadows, but that's not really going to work in this instance."
It was the whole reason Nero hadn't warped straight to the Mother's primary enclosure. The landscape of Deepground had been forcibly rearranged due to Chaos' attack. Trying to simply appear somewhere wouldn't work if the geography had changed. At best, he'd appear somewhere different and unexpected. At worst, the area might be dangerous, or not even exist any more, which would result in pain if not injury. Therefore, they needed Shelke and the cameras to gain an idea of where to head.
Calling up Galian's night vision helped somewhat. There wasn't overly much to see. The walls seemed decently intact, if latticed with some less than reassuring cracks. Near the surviving emergency light was a door that better resembled the hatch of a submarine, or the seal of a bank vault. "RESTRICTED AREA" was spelled out in large red block letters. The lock was huge and heavy, and apparently rusted solid. Gigas might have been able to rip it off, but doing so without bringing the ceiling down was another matter entirely.
"Can we go around it?" Vincent asked.
"I don't see why not." Without further comment, Nero stepped sideways into the shadows.
Vincent followed as best he could. "I hope you know where you're going," he said, hurrying to catch up with Nero. "How far away is the area we're trying to get to?"
Nero led him out of the shadows to the opposite side of the sealed door. There didn't seem to be any method of opening it from this side, which seemed strange.
"We're under Sector Six," Nero began. "I don't know the topside landmarks well enough to give you a reference. Suffice it to say we put down somewhere near the middle of the pie slice, and we're heading for what's left of the point."
Vincent balked. "That's miles!"
"Yep," Nero nodded. "It's okay, we can take a couple of shortcuts once the lights are on."
"How big is the area the Mothers occupy?"
"I'm not 100% sure. I've never been to their barracks or anything, but most of what's down here is comparable to what's above."
Again, Vincent was struck by the sheer size, the impossible scale of this dark mirror of a city. Nero had been right, Deepground was every bit as large as Midgar, but inverted, deep underground instead of stretching toward the sky. The space was vast, but not as heavily populated as the city on the surface. At least, he had assumed that was the case. Now he wasn't so sure.
"So um, I read your letter." Nero's tone was aiming for casual, but echoed awkwardly off the bare concrete walls. The silence stretched painfully. "I'm not very good with words either. It doesn't help that Surface Common and Deepground Common are virtually different languages."
"That's why I tried to keep it simple," Vincent said. "I….don't know if I succeeded. You said you didn't understand what I was talking about. I just….tried to explain."
He walked a couple of minutes in silence, and finally said, "Did it help?"
"Kind of?" Nero hedged. "I sort of get the whole family concept now." He was not about to admit that Max had struggled to find words small enough for almost two hours in order for the information to penetrate his thick skull.
"I guess what I'm still kind of lost on is why it matters? You didn't know me from Omega until a couple of months ago. Before that, you didn't even know I existed. I could be a clone, or just look weirdly similar. Just another Shinra experiment."
"Nero, that whole letter explained why it matters. Family is the center of everything. It's why we're down here now, searching through miles of rubble for the people you love." Vincent stopped walking, started to reach toward Nero, then thought better of it and dropped his hand. "That letter...it wasn't a due bill. I wasn't asking you for anything. I just wanted you to understand.
"Do you remember how you said it's important to give the right answer? It's like that for me, when I'm talking to you. I don't know the right thing to say. So I just...said what was in my heart."
Nero nodded slowly. "I'm really not trying to sound rude or ungrateful. You guys have already done a lot for me, and you didn't have to. If anything, I owe the two of you."
Heaving a deep breath that wheezed musically through his respirator, Nero stopped walking and turned to face Vincent.
"I don't know how to be a son," he said, a slight note of helplessness to his voice. "I don't know the right words to say, or how to act. Please know that I'm not expecting anything from you- and that's not an accusation!" he hurried to amend.
"I don't hold you responsible for anything, but that doesn't mean I don't want you around."
"I know you don't need me," Vincent said. It hurt to say it, but he needed to admit it, to accept it.
"You don't have to do anything. Just be yourself. I can't explain any better than that. I've lost everyone...except Veld. But I'm not asking you to fill those empty spots. I guess what I'm saying is, there's no wrong answer.
"If you remember...in that letter, I said I wanted. Not want. Past tense. I understand that I was asking for more than you could give. I'll always be around but…not in your face anymore."
"Okay," Nero said, a curious finality to his tone. "Same goes for me. Truce?"
He held out his hand to shake.
Vincent took his hand, gripping it perhaps a little tighter than Nero might prefer, hanging on a few seconds longer. "Yes."
If Nero noticed the slight drawing out of the handshake, he did not say anything, just turned and started walking again.
The way down to the electrical room wasn't necessarily long, but rather circuitous, requiring them to make a number of detours through the shadows when doors were sealed, or hallways collapsed. The electrical room that held the generators was near to where the floor began to crumble away to open darkness exposed by the blast of Reactor Zero's meltdown. After close to an hour of climbing through rubble, and sloshing through puddles of what Vincent hoped was only dirty water, they arrived at their destination.
There were deep cracks in the walls and floors, water flowing freely from a broken pipe. Severed electrical wires dangled from the ceiling, and more than one control panel sparked and fizzed to itself as if dreaming fitful dreams. Vincent kept expecting everything to be draped in cobwebs and a thick layer of dust. However, Deepground was simply hard used and not abandoned. The equipment might be old and abused, but it was anything but neglected.
"Okay," Nero muttered, eyeing the damaged equipment. "We don't need everything, just enough to get the lights on. No electric fence, no defenses measures, though it would help to get some of the coded locks online…"
Avoiding the sparking machines, Nero edged over to some others and began poking at them. Vincent squinted as suddenly the overhead lights flickered to life and the whir of machinery filled the silence.
"There," Nero said, satisfied. "That'll hel-"
A deafening BANG split the word in half as one of the generators abruptly burst into flames. The walls creaked and groaned as one crack in particular widened, tearing the cement like wet paper. An ominous, almost human moan shuddered through the walls as the concrete cracked, crumbled, and abruptly gave way.
Without thought, without hesitation, Vincent dove for Nero. They tumbled to the floor, a heavy tangle of arms, legs and wings. As the dust of the collapsed wall settled, the weak light of the restored electric lights revealed scaly armor and red leather wings. For the second time, the guardian summon had spared the boy's life.
"You!" Nero gasped, scrabbling backward and out of Vincent's- Chaos'- arms. For several heartbeats he gaped at Vincent, an expression of confusion and betrayal deep in his eyes.
"You did this," Nero whispered, the puzzle pieces finally falling into place. "You were sent in to kill us, to destroy Deepground."
Vincent could not deny it, did not even try, yet meeting Nero's eyes was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.
"Yes," Vincent said quietly. "The WRO sent me in. Deepground had started releasing monsters, attacking civilians, kidnapping entire neighborhoods. I was the closest thing they had to a SOLDIER, so yes. They sent me to shut down Deepground.
"I intended to do it myself, but...I carry a summon materia. When I got inside, it - Chaos - took over. I had almost no control over what he did...not that it matters."
Nero did not scream or rage, did not even ask why. His wounded expression had become blank and static. More than just a door had been slammed shut between them. A portcullis had come crashing down, permanently severing any hope of closeness. It might not have been a deliberate ploy to mess with Nero's head, to toy with his emotions, but there was nothing Vincent could say to make Nero believe that. His surviving son was less than three feet away, yet he'd managed to lose him forever.
The horns and armor faded away, the wings folding back into otherwhere. Cursing at Chaos was pointless, but Vincent silently raged at him, and at himself, both for keeping Chaos a secret and for showing Nero the truth of what he was.
Mutely, Nero stood and touched his earpiece.
"Shelke, come in."
"Roger," her little voice was distorted and scratchy, as if she'd borrowed Nero's respirator.
"We've got the lights on, but the route's been closed," Nero said, perfectly calm and even. "What else is open?"
"Looks like stairway 26C is okay. Can you get there?"
"Is that the one with the backward 'exit' sign?"
"Yes. And the 'Kilroy was here' graffiti with the mohawk."
"Got it," Nero confirmed. With only a brief "C'mon," he headed deeper into the darkness.
The walk to the stairwell stretched for what seemed like hours of interminable, horrible silence. Nero didn't wait for Vincent, nor did he seem eager to leave him behind, for which Vincent was grateful. The construction here was in rough shape, the walls splintered and crumbling, a thick layer of concrete dust coating everything. Carefully, Nero crunched down the stairs, testing each one before settling his weight on it fully. Something clattered loudly in the darkness, bouncing down the stairs and crashing to the next landing with a resounding metal echo. Squinting, Nero stooped and retrieved it.
He dropped it almost at once, dancing back as if afraid of it. Vincent fingered Cerberus' grip, prepared to shoot, only to blink as a badly dented helmet rolled into the sickly yellow glow of the emergency light. He cocked his head at Nero, questioning.
"That's Argento's helmet," Nero whispered, respirator reducing the words to a dry wheeze. Hurriedly, he cast about the stairwell for more of her armor, for signs of a struggle, for footprints, but found nothing. For a moment he stood there, torn, looking up at the sharp-angled spiral of the staircase as it ascended into the dark. Taking a breath that crackled through his mask, Nero shook himself and continued down.
Vincent thought about asking who Argento was, what she had been to Nero, but kept his mouth shut. Clearly, she had been someone important. Nero had spoken her name once or twice, usually in conjunction with Azul, but had not offered many details. Asking now, however, seemed inappropriate somehow. Rather than pry into Nero's Deepground relationships, Vincent followed him ever downward in silence.
Nero edged through into a larger space. A tumble of broken concrete and twisted rebar made up one wall. It had partially collapsed the doorway, but in doing so had compacted the door and pushed it out of its jambs. The thick chunk of steel lay bent and discarded like an overlarge soda can.
A handful of overhead lights flickered to life upon their entrance and Nero shied away from the greenish light. Square foot garden beds stretched away into the darkness, full to bursting with foliage. More plants hung from the ceiling. Clearly, they had found the gardens.
Without so much as a "This way," Nero headed for a second door that seemed comically plain after the massive vault doors and escape hatches.
"I don't remember any of this," Vincent muttered, more to himself than Nero. "But we must've come through here at least once, judging by the damage…."
"When Shelke got captured, I tried to rescue her, but that didn't go so well," Nero spoke up, unexpectedly, voice was flat and cold. "The Restrictors put me in lockdown after that. They sent Azul to deal with the invader first. I wasn't there for the briefing."
Invader. A better description of Chaos couldn't be found.
He remembered meeting Shelke, how cold and angry she had been when faced by her sister, Shalua. And Azul...
Vincent's memory of Azul was vague, an impression of a very large man, broad and heavily-muscled, who fought like a demon and gave no ground. The battle would have been over far sooner, and not in Vincent's favor, had it not been for Galian's strength and cunning. Had that happened somewhere nearby…?
"What's through this next door?" said Vincent. "Is that where the mothers and children are?"
"Kitchens and food storage," Nero replied. "It's two or three floors. The Mothers and kids should be under that."
"You'd better go in first. They don't know me." If anyone had seen him, they would only know Chaos or Galian. He didn't remember women and children, non-combatants, only troops...and Tsviets.
"I'm pretty sure there will be screaming either way," Nero comment bitterly. "Shelke?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you open the Mother's Gate, or should we go in the back way?"
"I can open it," she confirmed. "There's a lot of junk immediately in front of it, but that shouldn't be a problem."
"What about the intercom system? Can you make an announcement? I don't want to scare them if I can avoid it."
"Gimme a minute…"
Vincent cringed at the screech and scream of feedback as the loudspeaker system crackled to life.
"Attention," Shelke's voice called out, strangely large for its childish tone. "Attention, please. This is Shelke the Transparent. Deepground has surrendered to the WRO, and there will be non-combative personnel arriving to escort you to the surface. I repeat, non-combative personnel arriving to escort you to the surface. Please remain calm and do as instructed. Thank you."
Surprisingly, Nero smirked behind his mask at Shelke's attempt at crossing calm reassurance with military demands. It really wasn't bad, considering she'd probably come up with it on the fly. Rather than traverse more echoing, empty hallways, Nero ducked into the nearest shadow. Vincent tailed him at a respectful distance, following him out into what had once been a huge, vaulted room. The curve of the distant ceiling was just visible behind a veritable landslide of broken masonry. Opposite the three-storey pile of rubbish stood a pair of old fashioned iron doors. Although locked and bolted electronically, the doors themselves were obviously from a much earlier age. Set into heavy brick, and embellished by stone pediments, an ancient sign set into the lintel spelled out a single word in perversely elegant letters: Asylum.
Nero eyed the doors, the pile of ruined building materials, and examined the doors again. Vincent thought he heard him mutter something that sounded distinctly like "screw it" before he disappeared into the shadows again. Vincent hurried after him, but needn't have worried. Nero had simply stepped around to the other side of the door. He was greeted by an army of women bearing all sorts of ersatz weapons: frying pans, rolling pins, brooms, shovels, garden rakes, pieces of pipe or rebar. One woman even had a fire extinguisher poised and at the ready.
"The hell do you want?" demanded Fire Extinguisher, quaking with fear despite the scowl on her face and defiance in her voice.
Nero held up both hands in surrender. "Not a thing," he told her honestly. "I'm here to get you out. You're all going home."
Bitter laughter rippled among the women, most of whom, now that Vincent had had a chance to examine what was behind the improvised weapons, were some degree of pregnant.
"I don't believe you," Fire Extinguisher growled.
"No, I don't expect you would," Nero replied calmly. "I'll show you, instead."
Vincent watched as Nero turned his back to the enemy, but none of the women rushed to charge forward. Instead they drew a collective step back as Nero set both hands against the heavy iron doors and pushed outward. Pure darkness spread from his fingers, expanding to take up the whole of the doorframe. A frame of black glass rose up, tracing the contours of the original doors to frame the void. The darkness had taken on a sense of solidness that it had not had a moment ago. Crouching down, Nero edged his fingers underneath it and heaved. The darkness folded upwards like an old fashioned garage door, letting in a flood of light and color that made the women scream.
Nero stumbled to one side, shying away from the radiance. Vincent himself had to squint until his eyes adjusted, and then blinked. Nero had opened a passageway directly into the receiving area the WRO had set up for the survivors. No tunnel, no elevator, just a hole in Reality directly connecting one location to another.
"Shelke," Nero gasped into his earpiece, "unless they're medical personnel, get all male troops out of there. Females only. If there's any Deepground in there, I want them visible. I need at least two or three to step through so the Mothers can see that it's safe. Understood?"
"Roger," Shelke replied. There was a shuffle of boots on the other side of the door as some troops left and other stepped forward. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Dixon and her partner were the first to step through Nero's gateway.
"S'alright," Dixon said, sweeping off her beret and waving it at the mothers in an odd cross of greeting and surrender. "We're the good guys. C'mon, let's get outta this hell hole."
"But the microchips," a woman holding a push broom protested.
"Mine didn't go off," Dixon said with a grin. "We're still in Midgar. Don't worry, we'll take care of that next."
The Mothers looked back and forth at each other, apparently deciding whether or not Dixon could be trusted. Vincent jumped as Nero's voice spoke almost directly into his ear.
"We should go," Nero said flatly, and stepped back into the shadows.
"Should we leave them?" Vincent asked, hurrying after him.
"They'll be fine," Nero's voice was cold and emotionless. "Dixon and the others will have better luck without us there. The Mothers are all afraid of me. They'll be more likely to believe other women, especially ones they recognize and can see are just fine."
"Shelke," the word was sharper than it had been before. "Any other signs of life?"
"There's a few dozen pinned down in the labs, and more scattered throughout the training area."
"Are any of the connecting doors from Six to Seven still passable?"
"Yeah, all but two of them are fine."
"Open them," Nero commanded. "Extract the kids through there. Let the Mothers deal with their kids if they want. That should make them happy."
"I was going to," Shelke replied, sounding almost amused. "You're going to have to take the scenic route to get over to the labs and barracks. That area was hit hard, and the crater won't make it any easier."
"What's the nearest thing with a camera still running?" Nero snapped.
Shelke did not reply right away, but did not comment on his tone. "There's a blank patch near the mess hall. I can't tell from the angle, but it looks like somebody might be trapped, though I'm not picking up a signal from their microchip."
"I'll take a look," Nero told her, voice a bit softer. Evidently he felt a bit guilty for directing his anger at her.
"If you can get over there, part of the simulator is still standing. There's quite a few troops stuck in there."
"Roger," Nero said tiredly, and marched ahead into the darkness.
There wasn't much to see when they emerged, just another cascade of collapsed brick and cinderblock, with some wood and rebar thrown in to make it interesting. The camera Shelke had been using blinked stoically from one corner. The doors of the Tsviet cafeteria still stood open; one of the doors had fallen from its hinges and lay flat on the concrete floor, window pane shattered. Vincent headed toward them and nearly collided with Nero. On the verge of asking what was wrong, the words died in his throat as he noticed what Nero was staring at.
Nero stood still and silent, body rigid, barely breathing. A hand three times the size of his own stretched out from beneath the pile of rubble. The cairn of concrete and rebar marked the final resting place of a man who had truly been a giant. Nero turned to Vincent, a bitter undernote of accusation darkening the now familiar look of hurt and helplessness.
"We're the enemy," he rasped. "I get that. I just…" Nero trailed off, the sentence concluded in an inverted sob as he drew a too-deep breath.
Galian growled, deep inside Vincent's mind. A scent came to him, old blood, rusty metal...death. Galian remembered.
"I'm sorry," Vincent said, knowing as he said it that it was inadequate, worse than useless. "He was an outstanding warrior. I couldn't defeat him alone. I had to call on Galian...one of my headmates, but far stronger than Mask. He respects strength and skill. When Azul finally fell, Galian mourned his death."
Nero nodded, acknowledging the words if not the sentiment. What good was remorse to the corpse of his foster father? A sudden stab of jealousy pierced Vincent. The duty of provider and protector had been taken up by this man. Nero had loved him the way he would never- could never- love his blood father. Just as quickly, the envy faded. Azul had given his life to protect his adopted children. It was because of him and Argento that Shelke, Nero, and his siblings had survived as long as they had.
They could not spare a moment to pay their respects- there were others still alive and trapped, awaiting rescue- so Vincent spared a thought for Azul and for his as yet still lost children.
Gods, let them still be alive…
They had to be. There was no other way Nero would ever forgive him.
The barracks and training area had been hit hard. Of the dormitory style living quarters, there was virtually nothing left. Perhaps because of its size and its enormous dome, the simulator stood partially intact. There they found a handful of determined young men attempting to shift the rubble by hand.
"Commander Sable!" The boy's expression was one of shock and- strangely- of happiness. He could not have been more than sixteen or eighteen, he might have been even younger. Jenova and mako tended to accelerate growth, if not maturity. The kid dropped the chunk of concrete he'd been holding and saluted, grinning uncertainly.
"At ease," Nero told him, returning salute. "Good to see you alive, Sam. How many?"
"Most of C, D, and G companies," the boy- Sam- began. "One or two from other squads. Been tryin' to dig our way out, look for survivors. No luck yet. You're the first we've seen."
"Have you heard anyone?"
Sam shook his head. "No, Sir. Sorry."
"Very good," Nero told him. The kid nodded, not smiling necessarily, but radiating happiness. It was strange to see Nero's body language exhibited in someone else.
"Gather the troops," Nero instructed. "We're leaving."
"Leaving?" Sam echoed, unable to check himself in time.
"Leaving," Nero repeated. "We're finished here. We're going Upstairs."
The tone of grim resignation made Vincent cringe. Nero had seen the truth of the Surface and had been disappointed. Life above ground had fallen considerably short of his foster father's stories. It was better than Deepground, but only because one didn't face mortal injury at every turn, and the food was a lot better.
Sam blinked, eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. Neither joyful nor scared, he instead seemed more surprised than anything. However, he did not ask questions, simply flipped a salute and scrambled back down the pile of concrete. Nero and Vincent followed.
Rather than form another portal as he had for the Mothers, Nero inquired of Shelke as to coordinates for the labs. Either he didn't trust the scientific and medical staff, or he didn't feel like making multiple doorways. A third thought occurred to Vincent as Nero opened a long black tunnel and led the way through, the troops following two by two like obedient, baby ducklings: the troops and lab staff would be under suspicion. They were not innocent victims like the Mothers and children. They would have to be questioned and held until they could prove they were safe to release.
The scientists and doctors took a bit more convincing to transverse the second gateway that Nero opened directly into the WRO holding cells. Some part of Vincent winced at this. Nero had not been guilty of being anything other than a product of his environment, but they'd locked him up all the same. Hopefully, things would turn out differently for the rescued troops and support staff. The scientists, at least, seemed elated to be above ground again, even if it meant being in a holding cell.
"Anyone else?" Nero asked tiredly.
"I'm detecting two remaining chips but I'm having trouble isolating their position," Shelke said.
"...can you tell who they are?" Nero asked, a the slightest of trembles to his voice.
A pause. "Serial numbers indicate it's Weiss and Rosso."
Nero let out a shuddering breath and he slumped against the wall in relief. "They're still alive, then."
"Yes," Shelke confirmed. Despite everything that had happened, a huge weight seemed to have lifted from Nero's shoulders.
"However, I can't get an exact fix on where they are," Shelke went on.
"Ballpark?" Nero asked.
"Somewhere behind the kitchens?" Shelke guessed. "Honestly it looks like they're inside the wall. It's weird."
"That's cause they are," Nero said, abruptly pushing off the wall and standing straight. "I know where that is!"
Nero darted into shadow, and Vincent barely had time to chase after him into the darkness.