Playing God
By GoldenEagle

Author's Note: Yes, this is an extremely short chapter. Well, atleast to me, since my Leviathan continuation is like six pages for one chapter. Ah, well. Anywho, read and review!

Chapter Six: Playing the Prisoner

Dillandau sat, bored, upon the Vione. He didn't know what held him in this place when he had much bigger things to worry about. And yet still he sat, in this insanely uncomfortable chair, outside the girl's room. He sighed, annoyed, utterly bored, and still his legs wouldn't bring him away. He felt nothing for her, and yet he could not move. Damn the bitch! He growled and stood, ignoring his knees as they tried to hold him down. He had better things to do than to wait for some stupid female. And so he left, leaving the girl in the care of the sorcerers of Zaibach.

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Four darkly hooded figures huddled over the obviously insane girl. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling, seemingly unseeing, the pupils dilated. Her breathing came full and slow and she didn't move. Not once. "A breakdown?" Questioned one of the figures.

"Perhaps. Or a relapse into her old self. Dillandau used to go into such fits, flickering back into his previous form."

"Yes, but Dillandau is truly two different people. This girl is not." Commented the third.

"Perhaps she is. Perhaps there is the piece she is now and the piece she once was. She seems to flicker between the two." Muttered the second.

"Perhaps we could... improve her? Improve her as we improved the boy?" Mused the first, licking his lips in hinted anticipation of what he could make this strange girl to be.

"No." The fourth figure spoke deeply for the first time, his eyes opening. It was obvious by the ways the others lowered their heads to look at him that he carried an air of respect. He lifted his hands from her temples, where he had moments before probed her mind. "She is perfect as she is. A seductress, a murderer, she is perfect. A natural female version of the boy. True, she has an underlying innocence that may prove quarrelsome in the future, but it is something that can be overlooked. No improvements need be made. We cannot risk losing such a perfect specimen." The first sorcerer scowled a bit while the others nodded in agreement. His hopes were battered. There would be no playing with this one...

"What about Dillandau?" Asked the third. "I heard he protected her, though she tried to kill him. What if the two grow a little too close-"

"No." Again hissed the fourth. "He sees himself in her and nothing more. Remember, brothers, that when we created him, when we made him fully ours, there was no room for excess emotion, other than the hate we had taught him. Dillandau Albatou is not capable of love."

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Darkness. Yes, it was so dark. And the smell of so many forced together. A date set, they had said. They would fry the damn bitch, no matter how young she may be. They said it right in front of her. She sat in the shadows, crying, sobbing. Betrayal. Her own mother left her there, never came to visit... Her little sister... Terrified of her... And Jason, that bastard, lied. Had testified that she had come in and purposely planned out the man's murder. But worst of all, they left her in this darkness, where the only light was the sparks that flew from the contraption that would take her life.

She looked on it in third person, watching as she saw her form huddled in the shadows, crying. She remembered the whispers now. Yes, the whispers of the other cell mates, only shadows here. "Murderess... She laughed over the body..." And then, close to her ear, their advice. "Take that strength, child. Bend it, brake it to your will. When you are afraid, when the darkness consumes you, the rats crawl over you in the dead of the night, use that strength. And when you walk to your execution, hold your head high. Laugh at the thought of your own blood as you laughed at the blood of your victim. Prison is a place that you can either choose to die in or choose to conquer in. You will die, girl, but that murderer within you... She will conquer." The small form had listened, and took their advice in the blind stupidity that one might invite a vampire or demon into their house. And so Siren was born fully, invited into the mind of the child, and so she was here, now.

She remembered walking to her execution, remembered the cheers as she held her head high, gave a maniacal grin to those who screamed in ecstasy at the thought of her death, wishing it were their own. The cheers grew louder, louder, and then the world had spun around her, the earth falling beneath her. Rock, concrete crashing over her head. She was falling to hell, falling to hell... And she had hit cold, damp ground. No, no she hadn't fallen to hell. She had fallen to freedom...

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The room was empty and dark. Siren woke from her trance with the smallest of movements, the blinking of her previously opened eyes. She opened them slowly, closed them, before bolting up, her eyes wide and unseeing in panic. Darkness. She was shrouded in darkness! Her fear grew as she felt the emptiness of the room. Her bare feet hit the cold metal floor and she recoiled back onto the bed, her eyes wide in panic. Was she back in that dark cell? No. She would rather die than be a prisoner once more.

She jerked when the door to the room opened and light came in. There was the silhouette of a boy in the doorway and she squinted her eyes, trying to see past the shadows, try to see his face. He moved and she let out a sharp hiss when the lights to the room flared on brightly, upsetting her momentarily nocturnal sight. "Oh. I, uh, I thought you were still asleep." She looked up at the unfamiliar voice.

It was a boy. No, not a boy. He looked Dilandau's age, which was surely only a year or two younger than herself. He had the hair of a sheep, she thought with a wistful smirk, her terror of a few minutes before forgotten. He wore bulky armor, a strange look for his childish form. Yes, he could almost look innocent. Almost, she noted. His eyes were a little bit too sharp, his hand always a little too close to the hilt of his sword, his face a little too stern... All signs that he was more than he appeared. She sighed, waiting for him to go on. A long moment passed before he seemed to regather himself to speak. "Lord Dilandau sent me to check on your condition. He told me that if you were awake you were to join him for supper." This got a raised eyebrow from Siren and she stared at him for a moment before glancing down at her clothing. It was the clothing she had been in before, smeared with mud and blood.

"And what am I to wear?" She asked smugly, daring the boy to answer.

"Lord Dilandau told me to bring you a Dragon Slayer's uniform, and you are to wear that." He stated plainly and just as smubly. She again looked at him as if he were odd before nodding and standing, walking across the room to take the uniform from his hands. It wasn't just a uniform, she noted, but armor as well. It was heavy in her hands and she growled in annoyance. This was obviously some sort of test or prank from the sniveling boy. Testing her endurance? Or perhaps he just wanted to laugh at her when she stumbled in, the weight on her shoulders and chest making her tilt forward. Ah, well, she would take the challenge. Dinner, it was? So be it.