Plura Ater Nox

Chapter 20

Author's Notes: I guess it has been quite a while before I've written any parts for this fanfic. Anyways, I do have a good reason for being so negligent with this and it's this: I have just moved to a new city or rather my birth place and I have been trying to get my computer all set up. I was having trouble with my old one and didn't want to write anything in case it crashed in which case I might have lost what I wrote. I also was close to graduating from high school and I had final exams to deal with and that took precedence.

So, here is the long awaited chapter 20.

I know, I have too many excuses, but I will be writing more frequently now that I have a more reliable computer and an Internet connection again. I thank all those of you who were very patient in waiting for me to get the next part up. I look forward to reading what you have to say about this fic.

There is some questionable content in here (what else is new). It is part of the entire fic.

Just a reminder: I want the themes to be like this. I cannot down play anything. I want this to be as close to the truth if possible. It's fiction, but like you all know, it's based around World War 2. I have taken actual events and placed them in this fic or I have taken ideas and issues that circulated at that time and placed them in.

~~~~

He grunted. Continual thumping echoed. He continued to grunt, his energy being exerted to the purpose of exercising. Perspiration freely dripped down his face and neck, shocking his bare upper body and torso, as he pulled back, pushing damp fiery red hair back from his face. He hadn't had the chance to work out in a while and felt he was being listless and idle by doing nothing.

He pulled back, taking a bottle of water he had set aside, taking a slug. He had long ago converted his old, damaged chesterfield to a punching bag-like object against which to vent his anger. He kept it in the back alley of his Belfast home.

Having stopped, he stood against the wall, breathing heavily.

'Damnit! It ain't fuckin' fair. Can't believe Chelsea won't give me the light of day. Kennedy takes one damned look at her and she's all over him.' Brennan thought resentfully, picturing his friend's face on the homemade punching bag.

A feral growl of discontent caressed his lips as he initiated a swift kick to the bag, exerting the extent of his frustration. He watched as the stuffing poured forth, littering the ground. He no such attempt to pick it up, so much as it just gave it a loathing kick, seeing his ex-friend's face on the remnants.

'Some friend that asshole is. He steals her right from under me nose and don't even give it a second thought. I don't get no fucking respect. I don't know what the hell she sees in him. He's jus' a fucking smartass.'

He was alone at the moment and felt it was fine to vent. He hadn't the faintest notion of the presence of anyone else in the area at the time. He turned in shock as he heard the delicate clearing of a voice, only to come face to face with Chelsea.

He blinked, staring dumbly at her for a minute before replying, "whatcha doin' here anyways?! Comin' to tell me I ain't good enough for ya and that yer gonna go out with that worthless asshole instead?!"

She stopped, looking a taken back by his harsh unexpected statements laced and poisoned by pure contempt. She said nothing, just kept her eyes trained on him as she tried to find the words to reply to such a challenge.

"No… No I didn't, Brennan." She replied, her russet hair falling in her face, despite being tied back in a stern bun. Loose bang cascaded down, acting as a veil over her eyes, as to hide what she was feeling.

Wringing her hands nervously, she found herself lacking the confidence to gaze up at him as she spoke. "I…"

"You what?!" He snapped, turning sharply, his fiery red short yet unkempt hair whipping around. He pushed obtrusive bangs from his face.

"I…" She hesitated again, unable to speak, as his temper, as calm as it was at this stage, was frightening her. She didn't know how to deal and sighed softly, her fear being masked, but only for so long.

She suddenly felt as young as her age. The warmth on her foot, hidden beneath her shoe, had vanished, leaving her stranded with what the Lord had given her and not Suzaku. The faint red glow beneath the thin sheer ration-issued nylons was no longer there.

Brennan cast an impatient glance her way. "I'm waitin' fer an answer!" he growled. It wasn't that he hated her; he loved her with his heart. What he didn't like was the fact that she seemingly liked his friend. Also, her lack of available answer to compensate for her reasons contributed to his blatant frustration and anger.

"It's… It's not that I don't like you, it's just that you're not what I'm looking for. You're very nice and kind, but you're an utter dull being when it comes to adventure. Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I want to go to musicals or the opera." Chelsea explained, wringing her hands, as she refused to meet his gaze.

"You don't have the fire you did before…" She added after a moment's hesitation in thought.

He grunted curtly, as a derisive snort escaped him. Such a ludicrous answer, how utterly paltry; how dare she insult him with such ridiculous reasons. He boiled over in rage at the thought that she thought him boring, dull, a justified reason to turn to Séamus for a date and escort.

"I am like that, I jus' don't gotta do that. Maybe I got class this time and wanna do something more than rowdy adventures. I don't care if it's bloody borin'! I still got the fire, but ya ain't patient!" Brennan retorted, quickly searching for answers in his head. He knew his answer wasn't all that sufficient, but he had to get her to stop being supposedly irrational and back with him.

He did the next best thing he could think of. He knew Chelsea was the former Suzaku Seishi, Chiriko. He knew his friend was a Seiryuu Seishi, though which one was hard, since he hadn't seen examples of powers yet. He made the choice to fire this at her, hoping to get her to see reason and hear of rationality.

"I'm sorry, Brennan." Chelsea rested her hand on his arm, speaking before he had a chance to form the second part of his protest. "But I would only want us to be friends."

"Why the bloody hell do ya have to go and let some scum escort ya when ya can have better!" He demanded scathingly, his eyes quivering in pain from her rejection of him. He didn't want to give her up. There had to be a way…

"Chelsea! Give me another chance, please?! I'll do the mission as ya asked me to! I don't care, anything to get ya to love me and be mine!" He pleaded, taking her hands in his, staring pleading into her eyes.

She regretfully shrugged off his touch. "I appreciate what you're offering, Brennan. I do want you to help, but I still only want you as a friend." She offered him a small, sad smile as she pulled away from him.

"I'm not going to let you go. I refuse to let Kennedy have you for his own. You belong to me and we deserve to be together. Please…"

"I already said I'm sorry."

"Chiriko!"

She stopped. She said nothing for a minute. It had been the first time in this life she had been addressed in a formal manner and at that, by her Seishi name. She didn't know how to react to it.

Taking her shock to his advantage, Brennan reached out, seizing Chelsea's wrist. "I said I'm not letting ya go 'til yer mine. I love you."

A small gasp left her. He cared about her that much as to the point where he loved her. This was a first for her. No one had ever confessed such feelings to her. A modest blush crept revealingly over her nose bridge and cheeks.

~~~~

He stood outside the small house, his penetrating gaze rested on it. He didn't trust the three youth, for they conducted such suspicious activity. They were slowly forming a group that followed the lines of dissent. He wouldn't allow it. He had seen them acting by alone many times. He didn't have any proof, but he had a natural instinct, almost animalistic in nature that told him otherwise.

A feral growl escaped the tall Gestapo officer, Aaron Schnip, as he watched the bustling activity in the small house. His gaze rested upon the three youth. He slowly contemplated their deaths, for all three would be executed in time. They would no longer perform such operations in on his shift. He then in turn would be rewarded for his prompt note of such lack of conformity.

He had been to the place earlier. He saw the makeshift radio. He believed he had heard code names being used. He thought that the papers spoke of traitorous activity that was carefully being planned and to be executed at the right moment.

His tongue moved out to moisten his lips. Soon the three would be at his mercy and he wouldn't let them have a trial. Even if he did, it would be paltry, as such disloyal beings didn't deserve a chance to live in the perfect Reich that had been created. They deserved worst than the harbingers of doom that were holed up in the concentration and death camps.

He had three names: Elisabet Schuldich, Theodor Dietrich and Nickolaus Wendell. He had acquired the names in one of his earlier check-ups, or rather surprise moves to make sure that the rule of the Führer wasn't opposed in any way shape or form.

Not trusting the youths to behave, Aaron made it a frequent pastime of his to spy on them. He wanted to catch them, for he loathed them. They didn't fit the perfect description of those who were Aryan. They were inferior beings. They weren't quite befitting of the portrait of what a member of the Jewry was, but they were close.

'One false move. No, it'll be sooner because I don't trust any of you.' He thought, casually walking out of his hiding spot. He glanced around, then motioned for the other officers, who were patrolling the area to step forth for assignment.

He was the head of this faction of about fifty or so officers. On duty with him were maybe about fifteen. They were at his dispatch for anything that he needed. Right now, he needed for these men to come with him to arrest three youths that he didn't trust and were morally as well as culturally inferior in the face of normality.

He didn't have complete justifiable reasons for their arrest, so he would use their lack of proper roots to bring them to justice. He hoped that in arresting the three disloyal youths that he would find such strong evidence that he would kill them promptly and be done with it.

There was one problem, he hadn't counted on them having any form of supernatural strength or powers, like he did. He had a slight build, but had inhuman strength. It gave him a great advantage as a young man, for he was able to advance quickly through the ranks because he had both the appearance and ideal build for a person of Aryan descent.

It boosted his ego, making him arrogant in some ways, almost too much, for he thought too highly of himself. It would threaten him at a later time, but he felt that there was justice in that, for he had risen above the memories and dreams that came to him at night.

Whipping.

Abuse.

Loyalty.

Death.

Torture.

Pure animalistic desires.

Bloodlust.

All these were reoccurring themes in his dreams and kept surfacing in his mind and memories, as he slowly began to remember who he was. He kept feeling trapped in a body of a werewolf, with human intelligence, though sub-par the norm. He felt trapped as though a sideshow freak for the rank and file to gawk at in shock and laugh at.

He had to shake those bitter images and feelings. He did by being so self-assured. He did it by making himself more than he was and letting himself believe he was truly the best and that he was invincible, despite feeling the claw of death steal his life from him over and over again.

Images of the perfect epitome of an Aryan man; one who claims to have been from the Hin tribe, a hated group in Kutou, also flashed in Aaron's mind with his memories. He found himself loathing such images and had to stop himself from hating those around him for looking like that man: Nakago.

~~~~

Her mouth was stuck in a silent scream, as she felt tears run down her face in streaks. She had no voice left, as she used it crying out the name in fear. Her beloved had hit the ground, a bullet having penetrated his neck, killing him dead.

She felt so alone, so abandoned, especially now as she faced the men that were representatives of the emperor – the Kempei-tai. She felt desolate and at wits end with no hope or prayer. Backing away, she swallowed hesitantly, wishing that she was dead or that she had her brother with her. But she knew she wouldn't because he had been recruited into the Imperial Army.

Crying out, feeling alone without Taka by her side to assure her, to give her strength, Miaka left herself at the mercy of the men, kneeling on the ground before them. She didn't want to, but she was alone and her protector had been killed before her. She didn't want to risk her life any more; all she wanted was peace.

'Suzaku, onegai! Help me…' She silently pleaded, quiet sobs escaping her, as she waiting for the verdict of her end to come. She wanted something to happen to stop the pain of the loss. It had been terrible enough when they had been separated because Miaka and Taka weren't from the same world. The pain was worse with the assistance of death to tear the lovers apart.

"Onegai… Atashi…atashi… Don't make it worse." Miaka whispered, her body shaking, as she remained on her knees before the men, begging for mercy to be spared.

On her wrists were bracelets. She had been given them from the other world and they had come back with her, for Taiitsu-kun had permitted it. The bracelets were dormant at the time, though a small burst of red light caressed the identical items sitting on her wrists, beneath her silk kimono.

The men gaze at her, their lustful expressions concealed by the dark of the night. They have their own plans to deal with this young lady. They wished to not kill her, for most in the group are single. She had only followed her lover and was in no position to be executed for treason.

The first of the men bent down. He seized her by the front of her kimono first thrusting her onto her back, on the ground. His hand fondled her chest, tearing open the tightly tied kimono she wore.

Miaka cried out in shock from the move, for she hadn't expected such aggression. She didn't want to be subject to this; her friend had and she knew the incurring horrors that would be ensued in moments. Squirming, she tried to fight him off, but she was far too weak to get him off.

Due to her luck, the merciful Suzaku, the God of Love and Peace, came to her rescue, activating the bracelets she wore. The bracelets turned into braces that graced her with new profound strength. It gave her the strength that had been given to one of her best friends, Nuriko. She had been unable to find her friend in this world and was saddened to think Suzaku hadn't reincarnated the man.

With the braces serving her new strength and power against her assailants, she gave a hefty push, shoving the man off her and climbing promptly back to her feet. Closing her kimono, she backed away, her russet hair falling out of the immaculate buns, her eyes wild with fear.

When Miaka had knelt, she had done in begging for mercy. She wouldn't have done such an act if she had known she was in any form of danger. Now she knew for sure, she was either going to die or wind up at the mercy of a man who would treat her terribly.

She had only one thought: to end her life before someone else did. She would rather do that in honour than in disgrace.

Her eyes rested on the fallen form of Taka, as she made her choice.

The braces were still fully active. Lunging forward, she reached for a pistol that was being carried in the holster on the officer's hip, she aggressively drew it, after pushing him away from her. She didn't care – she would rather commit suicide than let anyone kill her or rape her.

Once more, a single shot was fired, as a body hit the ground.

From her temple spewed puss. It was a putrid white. It was plasma mixed with sticky red blood that rapidly trickled out in buckets. The blood ran down her temple, staining her pale skin and her silk kimono. No throbbing pain from the loss of blood lanced her body, for no pain could be felt in the finality of death.

The blood that left her body shone beneath the moon high in the sky. The red bodily fluids that were hers, slowly mixed and dried with the almost already dried ones of Taka. She had ensured she would die next to him, their blood joining for eternity.

TBC…