Upon their return from their- in Vincent's opinion- quite successful little father-son bonding experience, life as usual resumed. Vincent went back to work, Nero went back to his men. Some of them were improving, some of them...less so. However, they weren't the only misplaced Deepground residents.

Something nasty had escaped from the ruins of Deepground. Nero had mentioned mongrels, and everyone knew that grotesque experiments had gone on in the underground laboratories.

When the WRO troops had finally reached the labs, they'd found nothing in the specimen area but empty cages. Some had been recently occupied, but the doors hung off the hinges and the occupants were nowhere to be found. With numerous surviving human residents to worry about, the mongrels, whatever they were, were forgotten.

Weeks later, reports began to come in of a thing that shouldn't exist. Bigger and broader than anything human, it had too many teeth, too many legs, and it spat venom that smoked on impact with stone, concrete, asphalt, or flesh.

One brave, or very stupid, individual had managed to snap a photo of the thing, just before it scuttled off into the darkness under a highway overpass. The picture was blurry, suggesting a large, bulky body, a gaping maw full of dripping teeth, and compound eyes that glittered like black diamonds.

"What the hell is it?" Vincent pushed his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose, squinting at the image on Reeve's computer screen.

"No one knows," said Reeve. "It's killed several people, though, and it obviously can't be left alone."

"And you want me to be the acting exterminator, I suppose?"

"Would you mind?" Reeve sounded almost apologetic.

"No, of course not. Better me than Nero."

Reeve looked again at the image on the screen. "Do you think he might know what it is, and how to handle it?"

"I don't know, and I'm not going to ask," said Vincent. "He's not strong enough yet to deal with things like this."

He reached for the mouse and scrolled the report down to the city map. "Where's it been spotted? I want to see if there's been any pattern to its movements."

"Here, here and here." Reeve pointed to specific streets. Red 'X's' represented individual incidents, several on each street. "It got into a company's loading dock here, and someone's basement two streets over. Two deaths occurred. It's been coming closer to the city center with each reported sighting."

A chill fluttered up Vincent's spine. The monster's most recent appearances had been only a few blocks away from the WRO HQ. Every incident had occurred at night.

Nero was often out late.

Helping his surviving Deepground troops integrate into surface society wasn't a nine-to-five job. For many, surface life was confusing and difficult, and Nero made himself available whenever they needed him. It could be anything from extended classes or one-on-one coaching, to visiting a trooper in the infirmary, or sitting vigil for someone who'd taken his own life.

Nero's shadow magic was still severely reduced. He could manage a few minor things, like the shadow "underwear" he preferred to the conventional kind, but that was about the limit of it. Traveling via shadow was out of the question.

For that reason, Nero often slept at the WRO troop barracks; but what if he wanted to come home, or visit Max? He had to walk, or take public transport, which still meant walking to the bus or train stop, and walking back afterward.

That settled it.

"I'll do it," said Vincent. "I need the target practice."


Visiting Max had done much to steady Nero's nerves and improve his general outlook on things.

He'd filled her in on the trip with Vincent, and made the hesitant announcement that they had made progress. He had been unable to give a clear definition of what 'progress' was supposed to mean, but Max seemed to understand. She was smart like that. It was always nice seeing her. Too bad he no longer felt that way about his men.

Nero set off the few blocks to WRO HQ. He'd taken to sleeping in the barracks off and on, afraid to stray too far. It seemed as if the moment he turned his back, some new crisis erupted. Maybe this had always been the case and he simply hadn't noticed it among the daily chaos that had defined life in Deepground. Not quite half the men he'd started with were still standing, and Nero was beginning to despair of his ability to teach them how to manage on the Surface.

Nero didn't much care for the bus, or the trains, they were too full of noise and light and strangers. Walking alone was marginally better, though it left him feeling exposed. The shadows had yet to open for him. Although his body was recovering, his shadows had not fully returned. Ned and his fellow squeakies still answered to his call, but they were their own creatures, and not his to bend to his will. The darkness would grudgingly obey him, which made him extra glad of the standard-issue pistol tucked inside his jacket. Without the risk of warping the firearm to parts unknown, Nero had gotten considerably better with guns, and was neither remarkable nor terrible at hitting a target. He would never approach Vincent's accuracy, but at least he could hit the proverbial broadside of a barn.

There was no reason for him to be on the alert. Indeed, if not for the tightness in his chest to remind him that he was still recovering, Nero might have forgotten that he had any reason to be concerned for his own safety. He might be the least of his siblings, but he was still the scariest thing on the Surface aside from Vincent. When the glitter of eyes snagged his attention, it was merely noted. Such a thing was not uncommon in Deepground. It took him a moment to remember that the void staring back at one was not something generally encountered up here. Nero paused, and turned to look, but the eyes were gone. That did not mean whatever was attached to them wasn't there. Half-convinced he'd imagined it, Nero edged closer to the side street where the eyes had blinked at him last.

There was a hiss, and then a huge misshapen thing shuffled out of the shadows, long segmented legs tipped with pincers reaching for Nero. Its mouth opened, shooting a stream of venom that splattered the pavement. Stinging drops hit his face, his hands, leaving fiery red marks on his skin.

Nero let out an involuntary cry of surprise and pain. Leaping out of the way, he landed awkwardly, fumbling for his gun. A Sureshot-CR wasn't going to be much against this thing, but Nero wasn't sure he could manage both a phone and a gun at the same time. Instinctively, he reached for shadow, for darkness, but nothing happened. With no other recourse, he fired at the largest eye.

The creature gave an ear-splitting shriek as the bullet grazed its eye, and opened its mouth as it rushed toward Nero. More venom shot out between rows of ragged teeth, splashing and smoking on the ground. It swiped a foreleg at Nero, catching him by one ankle, knocking him flat on his back.

Nero went down with a painful thud, breath leaving him in a rush. He managed to squeeze off another shot at the thing even as he fought to get air back in his lungs. The creature stabbed at him with one leg and Nero clumsily rolled out of the way. Still coughing, he fired off two more rounds, hoping to take out one or two of its beady black eyes. Another stream of venom made him vault out of the way, but left tiny holes in the legs of his trousers.

The monster's wounds didn't even slow it down. Bleeding, hissing, it lunged at Nero, four of its legs extended to crush him. The first two legs pinned his shoulders, the next his hips. A huge, bulbous head loomed over him, dripping saliva and venom in sticky streams.

Nero bit back a scream as the goo ate through his jacket and then his shirt to begin on bare skin. He lifted the gun and fired straight into the thing's face, but was met with only a muffled bang and a surge of heat as the gun misfired. Defenseless, Nero stared up into its too-numerous teeth, trying and failing to disappear into shadow.

As the monster bent its head, a rushing wind nearly bowled it over, an echoing boom reverberating from the nearest building. The monster's head exploded in a burst of black gore. Behind it, something - someone - carried by red leather wings landed on the pavement, a huge gun grasped in one hand.

"Careless," a deep voice growled. "And after all my effort to spare you."

Nero stared, his whole body gone cold and stiff as stone. This was the second time he had seen the deathly white face. Fear and anger roiled inside him, struggling for supremacy. This creature- this thing- had spared his life a second time, but it had not been so generous with the rest of his family. It took two tries to climb to his feet, his long limbs shaking with a volatile mix of rage and terror. His mind screamed at him to run, but his heart keened for Chaos' blood. Distantly, Nero felt something snap.

"You…" he breathed, the cool, familiar sensation of shadow gathering in both palms. It no longer mattered if Chaos shared Vincent's mind and body. Power surged through Nero's body, making him feel as if he had truly risen from the dead and was only now drawing his first true breath. Shadow rolled off him in waves, his hair lifting in the peremptory charge of magic. He no longer cared that Chaos had let him live; he was more angry that he had let his siblings die. Rage won out, shoving fear to the side, and Nero rushed at Chaos, eyes glowing gold and blades of nightmare black in each hand.

Chaos sidestepped as casually as if Nero was a five-year-old armed with a toy sword. One wing flicked, knocking him off stride, and Chaos tilted his head, looking down his nose at him.

"Child," he sniffed, "you do recall I'm immune to your shadows? Show some respect for your elders."

He reached out, plucking first one and then the other blade out of Nero's grip, crushing them into shards of shadow.

"Do not raise your hand to me again. I will not be so gentle the next time."

"Then you should have killed me when you had the chance," Nero snarled, lunging at him. At the back of his mind, Omega protested loudly, but went ignored. The borrowed power of a Limit Break and Omega's materia gave him strength and speed that even as a Tsviet, Nero had not previously possessed. Grappling with a force of nature had not been on his list of things to do today, but Nero fell on Chaos, intent on tearing him apart with his bare hands if he had to.

They hit the ground in a tangle of long limbs and ragged wings, tumbling through pools of monster blood and venom, and came to a stop against a brick wall with a force that shook the building. Chaos fought like a rabid animal, forcing Nero back, blocking every blow with his arms or fists. The weird cracked face never changed expression, but the golden eyes burned, and Chaos growled, "Enough! I am done with you!"

"No!" Nero reached, seizing Chaos by the throat. The demon thought to pull away, to vanish into Darkness and leave the mortal to deal with his recalcitrant offspring, but found he could not move. The child held him fast. Not a little bit perplexed, and slightly alarmed, Chaos struggled all the harder and then he remembered: Omega.

"No, you don't get to pin this on Vincent," Nero rumbled, squeezing hard. "You did this. You did this to me, you did this to him." Pulling back one hand, shadow condensed into a long stiletto of pure Void. "You don't get to do it again."

Chaos gasped- surprise and pain coloring the sound- as the spike of shadow shot through him; not simply Valentine's body, but the materia in his chest. This should not be. This should not hurt. The child should not be able to do this, not even with Omega's power. One could not kill a force of nature, but that did not mean even an ancient immortal could not be hurt. Giving the boy a last look that was somewhere between impressed and contempt, he felt himself dissolve into shadow. At once his body slumped forward into Nero's arms.

Nero staggered under the weight, knees buckling, sending both of them crumbling to the pavement. Not Chaos but Vincent hung limp in his arms.

"Oh gods…" Nero breathed, the realization of what he'd done dawning on him with a sudden and awful clarity. "No… Dad, wake up! I'm sorry!"

Nero shook him, laid Vincent's body down on the street and went over him for injuries but found none. No blood, no puncture wound, nothing.

"Dad? Dad!"

Several minutes passed in silence, until Vincent's eyes opened, no longer the burning gold of Chaos.

"Nero?...the hell happened? Did Chaos…did I hurt you?"

Nero shook where he knelt, expression contorting from one emotion to another; terror, anger, anguish. His breath came in too-deep gasps that sobbed on the way in. Eyes welling up, Nero fell on him, seizing him in both hands. Clutching Vincent close, he dissolved into tears.

"I'm sorry," Nero bawled into Vincent's shoulder, the word so strangled it was barely discernible. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

Vincent wrapped his arms around Nero. "It's okay. Chaos had it coming."

"I wish we weren't two people," Nero gasped through his tears. "I wish you were just Vincent and I was just Nero. I don't care if Chaos is a god. If he wasn't stuck inside you I'd kill him."

"I've never been 'just Vincent.' Always shared headspace with a bunch if misfits. Chaos is just the most recent...and the worst of the lot."

Pulling back a little, he looked more closely at Nero. "Are you hurt? Tell me you're okay, please?"

The broken sobs had tapered off into coughing. Nero nodded, fumbling for the inhaler Max had built for him. He managed to extract it from his jacket pocket, but required Vincent's help to actually use it, his hands shaking too badly to hold it steady.

"I'm okay," Nero gasped when he could speak again. There was no blood on his suit, but the creature's corrosive saliva had left holes in his shirt and blisters on his skin. It might not be a significant injury to a former Tsviet, but it still had to hurt.

"I couldn't…" he panted. "The gun…it jammed…" Angry and ashamed, he looked away.

"I never liked that model," Vincent growled. "Nero, it's not your fault. It happens. It probably wouldn't have done much damage, anyway. All I care about is that you're not hurt."

He rose, offering a hand to help Nero up. Both of them were patched with the creature's blood, their clothing dotted with charred holes.

"Let's get off the street," said Vincent. "I'll let Reeve know the thing is dead. And I think you deserve a night off."

"No, I'm okay," Nero began, leaning heavily on Vincent as he got to his feet. Channeling Omega's power had left him exhausted. No sooner had he managed to get himself upright than the street did a backflip and everything went black. The world reappeared a few seconds later, but it lurched and wobbled sickeningly.

"I don't think so." Vincent pulled Nero's arm around his own shoulders. "Come on. One step at a time. I'll get you home."