This was the second time Veld found himself watching Nero from the other side of a one-way window, Vincent at his elbow. Nero would have to give his statement to the WRO inquiry board just like everyone else. It was routine, but since it was Nero who'd stabbed the SOLDIER, there would be greater scrutiny of his testimony. Given Nero's cut-and-dried explanation of what had happened with the patrol unit back when he'd first been brought in, Veld couldn't decide if he was nervous or not.

"It was an accident, sir," Nero replied to the agent. "I just reacted. It won't happen again."

"You were aware that this was a training exercise," the agent pressed.

"Yes."

"Yet you deliberately conjured a weapon and stabbed your opponent with it."

Nero's hands had crept up to clutch his shoulders. "...yes, sir."

"Why?"

"I...was defending myself, sir."

"You were briefed that it was a training exercise. No sharps or live ammo were being used. Why did you deliberately break protocol and inflict bodily harm on your opponent?"

Nero shifted in his seat, clearly wishing he were anywhere else.

"Answer the question," the agent insisted, and Nero visibly wilted.

"I...I forgot," he stammered weakly. "I'm used to playing for keeps."

"In Deepground?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Describe one of these training sessions."

Nero had sunk into himself, posture rigid, but eyes downcast and attention drawn inward; the only escape he could manage.

"Combat trials are to weed out the weak," Nero recited, delivering lines beaten in long ago. "The number of victors shall be limited. Those who do not fight will be terminated. No mercy will be shown, no quarter given. Those who survive will merit rank as Tsviet."

A charged and heavy silence had settled over the interrogation and the office beyond.

"Did you kill these soldiers?"

"Yes," Nero croaked.

"Why?"

"Those who do not fight will be terminated," Nero repeated. "If they didn't fight, the Restrictors would have had them gunned down," he replied. "If they fought, they'd have a chance."

The boy was shivering in his seat; Valentine likewise stood vibrating next to Veld, but with rage instead of fear. The agent looked equally aghast.

"Did this ever happen to you?"

Nero swallowed hard- gagged, more like- before attempting to answer. "Twice, Sir."

"Go on."

"They did it the first time it was my turn to face them," he whispered, the words more static than speech. "I couldn't. So they did. I cried the second time, so they did it again. After that…" Nero paused, took a too-deep breath, swallowed hard. "I just tried to make it quick if I had to. So they wouldn't suffer."

Veld could feel the horrified expression on his own face. At his elbow, Vincent was growling, eyes glowing red and fangs bared.

"This was what was going through your head during the training exercise?" the agent asked, having finally recovered his voice.

Nero nodded miserably. "Yes."

There were more questions to be asked, but they would be better posed by a therapist, and not a member of the WRO inquiry board. There was an exceedingly uncomfortable pause as the agent stared, dumbstruck, at Nero, and Nero stared at the table top.

"Do you have anything else to say?" he asked at length. Nero's reply was barely audible.

"No, Sir."

A low growl tore Veld's attention from the observation window. Vincent was half a step away from tripping a limit break.

"Vince," Veld said, turning to face his partner. Vincent tried to meet his eyes, his gaze wild and unfocused.

"He needs me," Vincent protested, the words more whined than spoken.

"Go," Veld urged. "You're no good to him like this."

With a last regretful look at Nero, Vincent turned and vanished out the door. That left Veld to deal with the agent, who looked visibly shaken as he emerged from the interview room. He cast a nervous glance at the boy still sitting in the hard-backed chair, as if afraid he might leap up and try to tear out his throat. Nero's straightforward testimony had not done anything to help his case, with one small exception: it was fairly obvious the memories did not sit well with him.

"Well?" Veld asked, not sure he wanted to hear the verdict.

"He's not safe," the agent said, somewhat breathless.

"He's a SOLDIER," Veld shrugged, bravado allowing the illusion of nonchalance. "He's also been through the mill."

"Yes," the agent agreed, gathering himself. "Yes, there is that. I'm not comfortable releasing him until he's been seen by a professional."

Veld nodded, he'd suggested as much to Vincent earlier, but circumstances had forced their hand. They'd have to schedule a visit with Cissnei sooner rather than later.

"That's fair," Veld agreed. "You okay with releasing him to us until further notice?"

The agent cast a wary look at Nero. "It's your neck, not mine."

Veld didn't spare a glance for him as the little bureaucrat hurried from the room. Having not been dismissed, Nero sat where he'd left him. Telling himself this wasn't so different from an op gone bad, Veld opened the door to the interview room and went in.

"Hey," he said quietly, the better to alert Nero to his presence. Crossing the floor, he crouched down in front of him, trying to see past the ragged bangs and into Nero's golden eyes. "You alright, son?"

Nero looked up a bit, body rigid but eyes frightened. "I mess up, I take the heat for my own mistakes."

Veld nodded. "That's right."

"I will be punished. Not Vincent, not you."

"Yes."

Perversely, the boy relaxed slightly. "What's my punishment to be?"

With a heavy sigh, Veld stood and pulled the other chair over.

"Well, you're probably banned from the training arena for a start." Veld offered him a wry smile to show he wasn't angry. "Outside of that, I imagine it'll seem light by your standards. I'm not your CO, so it'll be Tseng who decides what to do with you. In my day it used to mean latrine duty and a lot of book work."

Nero looked confused, but nodded.

-

In the alley behind the building, Vincent fought his way back to sanity, crouched on hands and knees. Bloody scraps of fur and tiny bones littered the ground in a wide circle around him. He shuddered, swallowed hard, nearly gagging at the nauseating taste of raw flesh. His anger had receded to dull red embers, and with it, the urge to go full Galian beast on anything that moved.

Still shaky, he went back inside through a side door. In the men's room, he washed the streaks of blood and other unmentionable detritus from his hands and face, and rinsed his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he made his way back to the interview room.

Veld looked up as he came in. "You okay?"

"Fine," said Vincent mechanically, "but the local rat population will never be the same." Veld said nothing, just patted his shoulder, and vacated the chair next to Nero.

Vincent sat down. "Nero?" When the boy looked up, Vincent opened his arms, offering, hoping. Veld caught his eye and gave a quick shake of his head. A little awkwardly, Vincent turned the motion into a tentative pat of Nero's shoulder, mirroring Veld's actions.

"You going to be okay, Nero?"

Nero eyed them both warily, as if not quite sure he could trust what he said.

"Yessir," he mumbled without unclenching his hands from his shoulders. Nero might believe it, but he was the only one in the room who did.

"It's alright, kid," Veld told him gently. "Dismissed. Report back in a few hours, okay?"

Although he did not release his shoulders, Nero practically melted with relief. "Thank you, sir." Saluting, he edged into the nearest shadow and disappeared.

"Why did you let him go?" Vincent demanded, not a little bit hurt.

"You had your minute, he needed his," Veld explained. "Give him some time to collect himself. He'll be alright." He hoped.

Vincent stared at the shadows as though he could follow Nero with his eyes. "There has to be something more we can do for him. What did the board recommend?"

"That he sees a shrink, to start," Veld said. "I'm sure they'll think of more. I can tell to a point when he's upset, but damned if I know what to do for him. He doesn't speak our language, and we don't know his."

Vincent sighed. "Same thing you suggested. Right again, as usual. I'll call Cissnei and see when she's available. Maybe Shelke, too. I could use a few more lessons in Deepground lingo."