"It..It's you..." breathed the young boy, who had become frozen with fear. Time seemed to have captivated both captor and victim in a perfect frame, much like the youth had witnessed earlier. However, he could sense that there was no compassion or kindness. No matter how Axl's features pleaded for affection; none came from the cruel eyes of the one he had called father.

"Yes, it's me," Red uttered under his breath, "Don't look so surprised. If you didn't see this coming, then you are more brainless than I thought." His tone was entwined with pure malevolence, and his colorless optics appeared to be almost venomous.

"Okay, yeah, you think I'm stupid. But you know what they say," murmured Axl, "Like father, like son." He expected pandemonium to befall him for this remark, knowing Red was short-tempered and unmerciful; and, in a sense, he meant every word of what he said. Although he desired the approval and love from Red, he soon came to realize that cowering in fear, or taking the abuse, was not going to get him this privilege.

Red's hold on Axl's spiked hair tightened, and had begun to cascade downward. The elder Reploid mercilessly shifted his grip to the younger's exposed throat, causing the terrorized child to choke. Coughing and kicking viciously, he visibly tensed as the sound of Red's savage laughter reached him. Axl could feel his spirit sinking beyond the equivalent of sea level. As sickening as it was, and as much as he wanted to pretend it wasn't true; it was. His previous mentor was taking pleasure in his own son's misfortune.

"I can't say I agree with you there," chuckled Red. "'Cause if our positions were switched, I'd be putting up a much better fight than this." To emphasize his point, he displayed a long, elaborate yawn. Axl narrowed his eyes in a vulgar fashion, as if to respond to the heartless comment.

"You think...so..do you?" retorted Axl, in between his desperate gasps for air. Instinctively, he delivered a sharp kick to Red's abdomen, which permitted the youth his freedom. He knelt to the ground, clutching his dark chestplate armor in an attempt to ease the rapid, unsteady breathing. Upon entering a coughing fit, he moved his hands to his throbbing neck, surprised at the feel of a warm, wet substance. Before he could present much of a reaction, Red's words pierced the silence like a warrior's blade.

"I've wasted so much of my time trying to teach you. Yet, you still haven't learned to mind your place!" His fist curled up, in preparation for an assault on the stunned young Reploid. However, Axl refused to let the same tormenting fate befall him, as it had done once before. He ducked beneath the oncoming blow, and took off running through the opening that had once been X's front door. As he did, he recalled what X had told him earlier. He was not to leave the room under any circumstance, and there were two B-Class Hunters outside the door. Why then, had they not stopped Red's onslaught? Had X ordered them not to protect Axl, only to confine him?

Axl turned to look back, noticing not only that Red was in close pursuit, but there were no signs of the Hunters X had mentioned. There was always the chance X had been lying, maybe to eliminate the urge to escape. Or maybe they had fled when they sensed danger. Despite all the possible explanations he could give for the situation, only his predator could know for sure.

Panting and gasping for precious oxygen, he sharply turned to a familiar hallway. Ahead, he could see the room in which he had been treated for his injury; but this was not what caused him to cry out in shock. From what he could see, there were four hunters lying on the floor, and none of them were taking in any air. Cautiously, he advanced toward the unmoving hunters, checking behind him occasionally for danger. When he finally did reach his destination, it took all of the remaining strength he had to keep him from screaming.

It didn't take an expert in the medical field to figure out what had happened. Each of the Hunter's necks were twisted at an angle that was not humanly possible. Not possible to be this way, and still survive, anyway. Their cold, pale faces were forever engraved withterror, and their gentle, innocent eyes had stared right through Axl. Staring into nothing. The walls of the chamber were marked with indentations, which were obvious signs of a final struggle; and everything was beginning to fall into place. There had never been any celebration catered by Zero's unit, only a fight for life. The loud noises and shouts were merely the last dying words, of those who bravely served the greater good. As if Axl had been announcing his findings, a malicious voice came from behind him.

"All will be explained in due time, kid," answered Red, holding his laughter inside. "So, you just sit tight, my boy."

Axl flinched, anger blazing from within the depths of his soul. His eyes reflected this, as his dual guns materialized in his hands. "I think an explanation would be nice, don't you?"

Red prowled in a circle around Axl, who still held his guns defensively. "Yes, of course, Axl. First of all, you must understand my purpose for coming all the way out here. As you know, I-"

"You want the DNA data to become stronger. I've heard it already," cut in Axl, lowering his guns to his sides. He then flashed Red an agitated glare, "And I still won't do it."

Red feigned the laughter that followed Axl's statement. "And you're still too stubborn for you own good, you know." He carefully backed up, examining his surroundings, and searching for a defense against Axl. He did have his default weapon, the energy scythe he carried with him; but rushing in to attack with a close range weapon while your opponent has a pair of pistols? The leader of the Syndicate had more wit than that.

Axl remained silent, watching as Red retreated further away. The older Reploid almost jumped as he backed into something frigid; he turned, glancing at the silver table he'd come in contact with. However, it wasn't the table itself that had caught his interest - it was more what kind of table it was. It was long, and stained with blood; obvious signs of a surgical table. And if you could find a surgical table, surgical tools were not far off.

"Axl, let me ask you something," started Red, sliding slowly to the side of the table. "Why do you fight me? You claim to want my love so badly, yet you continue to oppose me. Why is this?"

Axl's gaze shifted to the grayscale flooring, while his mind searched for an answer. He wasn't entirely sure whether to tell Red the truth, or to try to avoid the question. He chose the latter of the two, for the idea of pouring his heart out to his adoptive father in a situation like this did not appeal to him.

"Don't play mind games with me, Red.." Axl whispered, his voice shaking. "It's not going to work.."

Red had made his way to the compact casket of surgery utensils, but he blocked this from Axl's view with his body. He chucked softly, and closed his eyes, as if to appear innocent. "Axl, you should know better. I was merely asking a simple question. If you truly loved me as you say, then you would not place false accusations on me." His body turned slightly to the side, and it was clear he was hiding something behind him. "And you would comply to my requests, like a good son would."

The younger of the closed his eyes tightly, trying to force away the relentless words that had been spoken. His efforts were in vain, though, as he couldn't help but believe every bit of it. If he'd only given Red what he so desired, then maybe he could be considered a 'good' son.

Taking this opportunity, Red disclosed what he had been keeping so secretive. Without warning, the little pocket-sized knife was sent flying through the air; and before the oblivious Axl could grasp what was happening, he found the weapon deeply embedded into his right arm, just above the wrist.

"Why don't you stop doing this," hissed Axl, trying to fight back the immense waves of pain that coursed through him. "It won't get you anywhere." Unable to resist it any longer, he dropped the guns to the ground, applying pressure as best he could to the bloody mess.

"I'll be the judge of that, kid." Red again turned toward the table, searching for other means of weaponry. All he could find was a small glass bottle, filled to the top with a slightly translucent, pale green fluid. He poured the transparent liquid onto the floor, cackling quietly while the final droplet drizzled off the metallic floor. He had then begun casually walking toward the bleeding youth, a grim smile playing on his artificial lips.

Axl had begun to wipe away the fresh blood from his arm, taking extreme vigilance. The last thing he needed was for him to accidently force the small blade in to the hilt, or to twist it. The sound of Red's footsteps caused him to gasp faintly; he had then reached for one of his guns, before a kick from Red sent him skidding backwards. The cold-hearted Reploid bent toward the ground, picking up the long-range weapon.

"Now, we can do this two ways. You can hand over what I want, and save yourself the pain," Red's eyes moved from the gun, to the glass canteen he held. "Or, you can refuse, and you'll find another object sticking from your body. It's your call."

Axl trembled at his available options, disliking both of the choices. If he were to give in to Red, then there was a small chance his wish for Red's admiration could be granted. Yet, it would be against his better moral judgement. If he refused, he would be doing the right thing for X and Zero, though it would probably go without a word of praise. After weighing these options, he found the decision to be a simple one.

"You've already hurt me in every way possible," muttered Axl. "So, one more cut isn't going to get you what you want."

"Oh, dear child, I think you misunderstand," Red smashed the bottom of the fragile flask with Axl's handgun, and raised it threateningly. "I always get what I want."

- - -

Not exactly what I had planned to write, yet this works too.
But, thanks for the reviews, keep it up! :D

And just because I know someone is bound to tell me that I've taken Red too much out of character, I just want to say this: I know he's not really like this in the game, and I know he'd probably never go so far to do this to Axl. The thing is: It's a fanfiction, and if all fanfics followed the game they're modeled after exactly, we wouldn't have many good stories, would we?

I've said it once, I'll say it again; if I've made a grammar error, or something is unclear, tell me! Keep in mind, I don't pay attention when studying grammar. Although, I don't think 9th grade level grammar lessons would make much of a difference...