Disclaimer: I DO NOT own GSG.

Sorry for the delay! I'm SUCH a procrastinator...I'll try to fix that. This chapter was really difficult...there's just so much stuff going on and it was like trying to find the correct puzzle piece. Thanks for all the GREAT reviews, everyone!

Dolls in Neverland

Chapter Five - Resistenza e desiderare

Resistance and Longing

Underground Rome.

2: 05 AM

"Wake up," the coarse German came familiarly to Hillshire's ears. "Don't make me say it again, man." This time, it was a low whisper of a snarl.

A hard, booted kick collided hard on his stomach, causing him to groan and fall sideways on the grubby, damp cement floor. He moved his hands with futile exertion, since his hands were tied up behind his back and, he realized soon enough, that his Colt was missing from the waist holster. "Who the hell are you people?" was all he managed to choke out.

Someone laughed in that derisive, mocking sort of way just a few yards out of view. Hillshire twitched ever so slightly.

"Gustavus Ferlich, it doesn't take us much to figure out your grand plan." He then sighed in a way a person would after trying to teach a three-year-old to count to ten. "In other words, whether or not you let me go decides whether you live or, unfortunately, not. It's only a matter of time before my location is tracked down."

Gustavus came into Hillshire's view. He laughed rather boisterously and its unnaturalness echoed off the leaking concrete walls.

"Guten Morgen, brother. Now, what would you know about our grand plan? All we ever need is only a robot from you people. I cannot see how hard that could be," he feigned to solicit through a heavy foreign accent. His unruly brown hair the color of upturned soil matched his smoky, obscure complexion, supposedly from gunpowder and ash. Hillshire did not respond, partly because of the pain throbbing all over his body, and partly because he did not have a response.

"It's hard to explain this world, ja. But, there are some things that are just so tantalizing, that no matter what, I have to seize them. Like power, for instance…although, it's one of the more pointless, worthless things that people go crazy for, and lose it the moment they grab it. On the other hand, something that gives you power… well, that's a whole different story." The assailant revealed a small switchblade from his sleeve.

"Would you, Herr Hartmann, give up your own life for a piece of machine?"

SWA Headquarters.

All the SWA members, except for three, sat in stunned silence in the meeting room as if the shock of everything that has been happening had knocked all of their senses out. The tense silence was more nerve-wrecking than the ear-splitting noise of guns.

Lorenzo was the first to speak. "Ferro, as you have probably heard, is taken into intensive care. She should recover with no problem…the sniper deliberately hit her arm."

"The sniper's got us again," Marco muttered through gritted teeth. "What are we--"

"And, as for Hillshire, we identified his location," Jean interrupted. "He's somewhere underground Piazza Venezia. It should be very easy to find him from there."

Lorenzo stroked his gray, unshaven chin thoughtfully, as he often did. "Strange how they leave such obvious traces. It's as if they want us to find them." The fratellos turned to look at him. "What I'm saying is that they're using us the bait to get what they want, which in this case is a cyborg. They'll just keep on hunting us down one by one until," his experienced, far-seeing eyes hardened and the room grew silent once more, "we beg for them to stop."

----

"Please," Triela grabbed Priscilla's sleeve, her iron grip holding the female agent down at the spot. As her height neared the older woman's shoulders, her strength equally grew. "Please, just let me go with you!"

Priscilla shook her head apologetically with a sad smile. "I'm sorry, Triela. We're already losing Henrietta, and we can't risk losing you or Rico," she replied miserably. "Or Claes, for that matter."

"But--"

"We promise, Triela. We'll bring Hillshire back safe and sound, and that we'll make sure." She put a gentle hand on Triela's, and to her surprise, the tense hands let go of her jacket easily as if she was letting go of a delicate porcelain doll.

Something told Priscilla that the half-mechanical girl was crying. Crying. She couldn't see because Triela had turned her back to her, about to stride away with arrogance like a true Triela would. But now, she was just a forlorn teenage girl, her heart broken and bleeding at the loss of her love. Priscilla, taken back, barely heard what came next.

"And if the promise is broken…what would you do?" Before Priscilla could respond, the girl was out of the room.