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Description
A Crumb of Comfort: Chapter One

A pre-Dirge of Cerberus fanfic, featuring Weiss x Nero, and a package of Oreos.

Warning: Contains Shonen-ai (boy’s love) themes, so if it bothers you, please don’t read. Nothing really smutty in this chapter, although it is implied, but there will be later. Also contains minor game spoilers.

The events in this story take place approximately 3 years before the events of Dirge of Cerberus, soon after the Tsviets are able to free themselves from Shinra’s control.

Disclaimer: Apologies to both Square Enix and Nabisco, I am merely borrowing your creations for some playful abuse (and no personal gain), although I’m sure Nabisco made a profit off me, because I ate a lot of Oreos while writing this fic.

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Nero, the darkest of the Tsviets, had a secret. Well, not so much a secret, but rather a piece of information about himself that he chose not to share with his comrades. That particular confidence was that he loved Oreo cookies.

It was something that remained from his childhood when he was growing up in the Deepground facility, from a time before his darkness manifested itself fully and became too powerful to control, before he spent all his days restrained.

The cookies had come from one particular lab assistant who ranked quite lowly in the hierarchy of the scientific research wing of the facility. He was a large podgy man, with features as memorable as a lump of dough. For some reason he had taken a liking to the young dark-haired experimental subject, often giving Nero one of the sweet biscuits after particularly gruelling ‘assessment sessions.’

Nero hated those tests. He hated the way the electrodes felt on his skin which monitored his heart rate and other minute physiological changes as they challenged him mentally and physically. He didn’t understand; he was just a kid. Of course in Deepground, there never seemed to be any other children to play with, but he knew the life that he had couldn’t possibly be normal.

The biscuits helped. He had once snuck out of his sparsely furnished room at night into the office where the researchers had their desks. Before he was caught by security and returned to where they deemed he belonged, he spotted a framed photograph. The picture showed a happy family, picnicking under a bright blue sky. Two young boys were laughing as they ate cakes and cookies. Nero didn’t understand at the time, but he had felt a bit of comfort when he had looked at the picture.

The cookies he got from the fat lab assistant reminded him of that scene. They distracted him, it almost made him feel as if he closed his eyes as he ate one, it would be him laughing and playing under the sunshine when he opened them again. It never worked though; his crimson gaze was always met with the same industrial grey that seemed to permeate through everything.

Still, he got comfort from the Oreos, a feeling that survived through his childhood, when the scientist forced him to comply to their every whim, it survived through his teens, the worst of his time in Deepground, when he got so powerful that they bound his limbs and kept him locked away. The feeling survived up until this very day.

Although Nero now found it a bit silly and embarrassing that he could get comfort from a cookie, it didn’t stop him from liking them. It was his little indulgence. One thing he was certain of though was that the centre was definitely the best part. Nero liked to twist open the cookies, lifting the dark biscuit away, exposing the white interior. He liked to lick the cream away first, before eating the biscuits. He liked the way that the sweet filling melted in his mouth, the crystalline texture coating his tongue before he swallowed. Yes, the centre was definitely the best part.

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If Weiss had known about his little brother’s peculiar fixation, he would have been the first to disagree with him. Of course it was the dark crisp biscuits that were the best part of an Oreo. He found the centre too sweet for his taste, full of fats and sugar, he put up with it only because it usually got lost in the crunchy texture of the rest. He liked the way that the ridges of the biscuit felt against his lips, the hard jutting edges which gave way beneath his immaculate teeth.

Weiss couldn’t recall why he liked the cookies. He vaguely remembered having some in his youth, possibly a bribe of sorts offered up by the lowly scientists to help get him to comply with their tests. He just knew that for some reason there always seemed to be Oreos in the Deepground facility. The Emperor didn’t know who put them on the supply list, but they were always there, so he ate them. It was a habit that he indulged in private; he didn’t share this with the other Tsviets. He got enough grief from Azul and Rosso already with their pet name of “Dancing Queen” for him, he wasn’t about to add “Cookie Monster” to their arsenal.

Weiss leaned back in his throne as he popped another cookie into his mouth. He was feeling bored today and chewed slowly as he thought of various ways that he could alleviate this particular state of mind. For the first time since they overthrew Shinra Weiss found himself with some free time on his hands and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

He could pay a surprise inspection to the Deepground barracks and grace the lowly foot soldiers with their Emperor’s presence. Perhaps make an example of a few of them to keep them on their toes. That could however, prove to be more troublesome than entertaining, he preferred to maintain an air of mystery and legend around himself in regards to the lower ranks and was in the mood for something else anyway.

Weiss’s icy blue gaze turned to his twin gunswords, which rested within easy reach of his throne. The polished metal managed to retain a hard gleam of their own, which shone through the dull environment of Deepground and the surrounding mako haze from the reactor. It had been awhile since he had used them, felt their strength as an extension of his own.

The white haired Emperor smiled, the edges of his lips curving upwards slightly as his eyes narrowed. Yes, some training would be the perfect way to alleviate his boredom, but who should he spar against? Anyone below the level of Tsviet would be a complete waste of his time.

Shelke, perhaps? No, her fighting style was too predictable and with her shield she was no fun at all. Weiss seriously doubted that her combat skills alone would have been enough to elevate her to level of Tsviet.

Azul? He was too brutal, no finesse. If Weiss wanted to fight a tank, he could go beat up one of the dragonflies.

Rosso? She could definitely pose a decent challenge, with her blood lust and speed, but Weiss knew that Rosso hated to lose and even if it was just a practice match, she would be sure to take it out on the rest of Deepground and that was one mess he did not want to deal with.

There was however, one contender remaining who would be ideal, his own kin and darkest of the Tsviets, Nero the Sable.

Nero was a rather enigmatic fighter, his particular style very different from Weiss’s own. Weiss took pride in his own rapid and elegant form of swordsmanship, making each cut as beautiful as it was deadly.

The dark Tsviet, on the other hand, was not what one would describe as a beautiful fighter, but rather adopted a style which combined both stealth and efficiency. Nero could dispatch entire legions of enemies without them even knowing they had been targeted. He merely enveloped them within his dark oblivion and the resulting pain and anguish they experienced made short work of even the bravest fighter.

Allowing an enemy to see his face was an honour that Nero reserved only for the most worthy of opponents, and he was a sight to behold, with his mechanical wings and long dark hair. The way that he was restrained often led people to underestimate the warrior, but he was certainly not one to be toyed with.

Weiss smiled again, broader this time, Nero would be ideal. It was always a challenge to keep one step ahead of his younger brother as he drifted in and out of the shadows. He had never gotten much chance to spar with Nero before the Tsviets had taken matters into their own hands and liberated themselves from Shinra’s control since the scientists were too scared to allow the dark-haired warrior even a breath of freedom. Now that Weiss thought about it, he actually hadn’t seen much of his brother at all since they freed themselves either. This would be a perfect opportunity to catch up with each other. Weiss sat up and activated the intercom which connected him with the rest of Deepground.

“Seiger Weiss!” a tinny voice came through the speaker.

“Tell Nero I want to see him,” Weiss ordered and cut the connection before another proclamation of his victory could be uttered. He knew that Nero would arrive soon enough and settled into his throne once more. He glanced around the spartanly furnished room again and noticed the bag of cookies; best to get rid of those before the other arrived. Weiss took one last cookie before shoving the remaining into a concealed drawer built into the armrest of his throne, pushing the bag down on top of the miscellaneous tools and items so he could close it again. He leaned back, running the edge of the biscuit against his lips absentmindedly, as he thought about the upcoming fight.

Weiss felt a particular affinity towards his younger brother that did not extend to the rest of Deepground or even to the other Tsviets that were under his command. Perhaps it was because he knew about just what Nero had gone through. Even though Weiss had been kept in check with the virus and was often physically chained to his throne as well, Nero they had kept brutally locked and bound to a pillar, alone. Even though they had been kept in different parts of Deepground, Weiss always knew when his brother called out for him amidst the pain and anguish.

Perhaps it was because he knew just how much the younger man looked up to him and adored him and how Nero depended on him for assurance and comfort. Weiss wasn’t so cruel as to completely ignore the feelings of the other; in fact, his own feelings were quite similar.

They were not just brothers, but lovers as well. That was something that may have struck people in the world above their heads as odd, but in a place like Deepground, where conditions were designed to strip away all humanity, love was something even more important to cherish no matter what form it manifested itself in. Weiss wasn’t sure at exactly what point their love for each other had turned into a deeper desire, sometimes it just seemed like yesterday when he was trying to protect his quiet little brother from the harsh reality of the experimental facility. But Nero had grown up into a deadly force, a being that everyone feared to touch, except for his brother, and their love grew ever stronger as they supported and comforted each other, being able to get lost in the pleasure of each other was one of the only things that made existence tolerable.

Due to the restraints masking his face and his formal manner of speech, Nero often came across as cool and aloof to others, although Weiss knew him well enough to see right through him. Nero’s emotions were always betrayed by his eyes, one just had to take the time to look into those crimson depths.

What Weiss enjoyed most however, was the fact that he was so often the cause of the emotion that Nero felt. Whether it be Nero’s longing gazes from across the room or the sight of Nero completely becoming his as he pressed the younger man’s body beneath his own, causing the other to writhe and gasp in lust as he held him in a powerful embrace. Weiss felt another emotion besides the adrenalin of anticipation of the fight wash over him and he definitely liked it. It had been far too long since he had last held Nero in his arms.

While caught in his reminisces Weiss noticed a pool of darkness gathering before his throne. Although he kept the entrance to his throne room locked his brother was free to come and go as he pleased. It was funny how after so many years of being forcefully confined in that room Weiss now chose it as his personal retreat.

“You wished to see me brother?” Nero inquired as soon as he had risen from the darkness. Weiss smiled in return, he always found Nero’s accent quite charming.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve had a chance to test our strengths against each other, dear brother,” Weiss began, “I’ve been itching for an opportunity for us to duel.” In all honesty, Weiss’s body was itching for something else as well, but for some odd reason he liked to earn the privilege of taking what was freely given to him anyway.

As Weiss spoke he noticed something odd. Nero usually was always focused on him whenever he spoke however today the other man’s attention seemed not to be on him but directed to a point slightly to his right. He followed the direction of his brother’s gaze and found that it had come to rest at his right hand, in particular at what was in his right hand.

Weiss had completely forgotten about the uneaten Oreo cookie. Was it really this simple biscuit that had managed to distract the dark Tsviet? There was obviously something that Nero was keeping secret from him and that intrigued him greatly. These thoughts passed through his head in a split second, before he had even finished his first sentence and he resolved that he would find out exactly what was going on.

Nero bowed his head slightly as Weiss finished, “I will do my best to be a worthy opponent for you brother,” he responded.

Nero’s mechanical wings reached downwards to draw two heavy handguns from the holsters strapped to the sides of his legs. Part of a set of four, the guns were designed specially to work in tandem with his artificial limbs. Although Nero’s wings appeared spindly, they were capable of bearing a remarkable amount of force.

“But,” Weiss added, before his brother could disappear once more into the shadows and their game began, “Let’s make things slightly more interesting.”

Nero paused and turned to face his brother once more; he remained silent, waiting for Weiss to continue.

Weiss held out the Oreo cookie in front of him, “Winner of our little duel gets this cookie,” he said, adding “it’s the last one.” Weiss grinned evilly as he saw a flicker of emotion flash across his brother’s eyes. This was turning out to be an absolutely wonderful way of teasing him. Weiss knew there was still over half a bag left of the cookies, but it was not information he was about to share with Nero, not when he could provoke such delightful reactions from the other.

“Very well brother,” Nero replied, trying to keep an air of nonchalance about him, “If you insist on adding these little rules to our game, so be it.” This did not deter Weiss for one moment however; he could hear a note of tension in Nero’s voice that indicated that it was anything but all right with his younger brother.

Weiss placed the cookie on the armrest of his throne and grabbed his gunswords, mounted them on his back, “Come little one, let us begin!”

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Duels in Deepground were anything but easy. The one rule of the hidden research institute was that you had to be strong to survive. There were no dulled blades or rubber bullets involved in a fight here, only real weapons and real blood.

Nero had already melted into the shadows as Weiss strode into the centre of the throne room. Weiss had learnt that when fighting Nero it was best to stay away from dark corners with the other could easily mount surprise attacks.

As he assumed a relaxed fighting stance; Weiss pulled one sword from its sheath and assessed the situation. As expected Nero was no where to be seen, but Weiss was not Emperor of Deepground for his strength alone, his ability to analyse his opponents and predict their movements and attacks was one of his greatest assets.

The high vaulted ceilings of the throne room would definitely suit Nero’s fighting style very well and Weiss adjusted his stance slightly in anticipation of an aerial attack. A split second later, a slew of bullets rained down towards him from somewhere to his upper right but Weiss was able to deflect them easily with the blade of his weapon. Like Weiss himself, his weapons had been made of the purest materials and infused with mako, no amount of bullets would be able to shatter the immaculate metal.

The warrior smirked, “Too predictable, little brother” he muttered under his breath.

The last bullets had hardly pinged off his broad sword when another onslaught of bullets was directed towards him, this time from ground level, somewhere off to his left. Weiss swiftly drew his other sword to block the new assault. Weiss cast his gold and blue eyes across the room at where the bullets had come from but he could see nothing beyond shadows. The white haired warrior quickly considered the situation. There could be two explanations for the rapid second attack. Either Nero was passing through his shadow realm to shift from one place to another or he had duplicated himself.

Weiss smiled to himself, either option would not be particularly hard for him to deal with. He half turned and stepped back as more bullets rained down on him, blocking them easily. The attacks came quicker now, alternating their point of origin more and more frequently. The Emperor felt the first prickles of sweat starting to rise on his body as he turned and shifted his lithe form faster and faster to block his younger brother’s attacks.

This was all well and good, but frankly Weiss was starting to get bored. Usually by now Nero had altered his strategy seeing how this sort of attack was never going to result in anything more than a stalemate between the two brothers. Nero would surely run out of bullets before Weiss succumbed to fatigue.

Instead of merely blocking the next barrage of bullets, Weiss shot back with his own weapons this time, the powerful rifle barrels sending heavy calibre single shots back towards the source of the attacks.

Bullets were never particularly effective against Nero, as long as the dark Tsviet was quick, his darkness could absorb the shots. The purpose of them was not to score a hit, but to slow him down enough so that Weiss could pinpoint his opponent’s location.

While the siblings were quite evenly matched when fighting at a distance; Nero’s weakness was close combat and getting it to that point was exactly the strategy Weiss was planning to apply to win this fight. Weiss grinned again as the torrent of bullets eased a bit, they still rained down from a variety of locations, but the Emperor knew it would not be long before he would be able to determine just where his little brother was.

Weiss manoeuvred his way out of the line of another assault; turning his hips sharply and using his momentum to catch the steam of bullets along the surface of his blades and fling them back towards their source. By this time Weiss had analyzed the pattern of attack and anticipated where the next one would come from. Really, Nero was making this far too easy from him.

Weiss grinned once more and stepped backwards, raising his swords to fire at the point where he was sure the next barrage was going to come for, only to be overcome by a strange sensation just as he was about to squeeze the triggers. More specifically, a strange sensation around his right leg. He jerked his head downwards, previous target forgotten as he watched the darkness envelop his leg and creep across his body, spreading from a dark smudge on the rough metal floor.

All Weiss could think of for a moment was that his little brother was incredibly clever. Nero had hidden in plain sight a patch of his own darkness and had expertly manipulated Weiss into stepping onto that very spot. While Weiss would have been sure to notice the darkness appearing around him suddenly, having it lie in wait out in the open where it wasn’t expected was ingenious.

He could feel the darkness sucking at his body; the murky tendrils had completely engulfed his right leg and was currently spreading down his left leg and wrapping their way around his waist, slowly immobilizing him. Weiss allowed himself a small smirk, any other fighter would have been absorbed within a second but not him; Nero always commented on how Weiss was hard to swallow, due to their opposing body compositions.

Weiss shifted a little, as much as he could, testing the strength of the darkness that was wrapping itself around him like a straightjacket. Idly he wondered if this was how Nero felt when he was bound within his Deepground uniform, when Shinra had immobilized him against that hateful pillar.

Before long he heard footsteps behind him, and the white haired man craned his neck around as much as he could to glimpse his brother approaching, guns still drawn and at the ready, waiting to see if Weiss would try anything.

Weiss followed with his eyes as Nero circled him, the darkness still creeping higher up his torso, starting to wrap around his shoulders and spread down his arms. Nero paused behind him and wrapped his metal wings around Weiss’s shoulders, drawing the two together back to front in a cold embrace.

“Do you concede Nii-san?” Nero leaned forward to whisper into his brother’s ear, his breath panting slightly from the exertion it had taken to corner and contain Weiss.

Weiss finally broke his silence with a laugh; a deep rich laugh that filled the room. Startled, Nero released his wings from his brother’s shoulders and took a step backwards. That was just what Weiss was waiting for.

“Never,” he hissed as he flicked his wrist backwards, just enough mobility left to impale the sharp tip of his sword through Nero’s gut.

Description
A Crumb of Comfort: Chapter One

A pre-Dirge of Cerberus fanfic, featuring Weiss x Nero, and a package of Oreos.

Warning: Contains Shonen-ai (boy’s love) themes, so if it bothers you, please don’t read. Nothing really smutty in this chapter, although it is implied, but there will be later. Also contains minor game spoilers.

The events in this story take place approximately 3 years before the events of Dirge of Cerberus, soon after the Tsviets are able to free themselves from Shinra’s control.

Disclaimer: Apologies to both Square Enix and Nabisco, I am merely borrowing your creations for some playful abuse (and no personal gain), although I’m sure Nabisco made a profit off me, because I ate a lot of Oreos while writing this fic.

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Nero, the darkest of the Tsviets, had a secret. Well, not so much a secret, but rather a piece of information about himself that he chose not to share with his comrades. That particular confidence was that he loved Oreo cookies.

It was something that remained from his childhood when he was growing up in the Deepground facility, from a time before his darkness manifested itself fully and became too powerful to control, before he spent all his days restrained.

The cookies had come from one particular lab assistant who ranked quite lowly in the hierarchy of the scientific research wing of the facility. He was a large podgy man, with features as memorable as a lump of dough. For some reason he had taken a liking to the young dark-haired experimental subject, often giving Nero one of the sweet biscuits after particularly gruelling ‘assessment sessions.’

Nero hated those tests. He hated the way the electrodes felt on his skin which monitored his heart rate and other minute physiological changes as they challenged him mentally and physically. He didn’t understand; he was just a kid. Of course in Deepground, there never seemed to be any other children to play with, but he knew the life that he had couldn’t possibly be normal.

The biscuits helped. He had once snuck out of his sparsely furnished room at night into the office where the researchers had their desks. Before he was caught by security and returned to where they deemed he belonged, he spotted a framed photograph. The picture showed a happy family, picnicking under a bright blue sky. Two young boys were laughing as they ate cakes and cookies. Nero didn’t understand at the time, but he had felt a bit of comfort when he had looked at the picture.

The cookies he got from the fat lab assistant reminded him of that scene. They distracted him, it almost made him feel as if he closed his eyes as he ate one, it would be him laughing and playing under the sunshine when he opened them again. It never worked though; his crimson gaze was always met with the same industrial grey that seemed to permeate through everything.

Still, he got comfort from the Oreos, a feeling that survived through his childhood, when the scientist forced him to comply to their every whim, it survived through his teens, the worst of his time in Deepground, when he got so powerful that they bound his limbs and kept him locked away. The feeling survived up until this very day.

Although Nero now found it a bit silly and embarrassing that he could get comfort from a cookie, it didn’t stop him from liking them. It was his little indulgence. One thing he was certain of though was that the centre was definitely the best part. Nero liked to twist open the cookies, lifting the dark biscuit away, exposing the white interior. He liked to lick the cream away first, before eating the biscuits. He liked the way that the sweet filling melted in his mouth, the crystalline texture coating his tongue before he swallowed. Yes, the centre was definitely the best part.

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If Weiss had known about his little brother’s peculiar fixation, he would have been the first to disagree with him. Of course it was the dark crisp biscuits that were the best part of an Oreo. He found the centre too sweet for his taste, full of fats and sugar, he put up with it only because it usually got lost in the crunchy texture of the rest. He liked the way that the ridges of the biscuit felt against his lips, the hard jutting edges which gave way beneath his immaculate teeth.

Weiss couldn’t recall why he liked the cookies. He vaguely remembered having some in his youth, possibly a bribe of sorts offered up by the lowly scientists to help get him to comply with their tests. He just knew that for some reason there always seemed to be Oreos in the Deepground facility. The Emperor didn’t know who put them on the supply list, but they were always there, so he ate them. It was a habit that he indulged in private; he didn’t share this with the other Tsviets. He got enough grief from Azul and Rosso already with their pet name of “Dancing Queen” for him, he wasn’t about to add “Cookie Monster” to their arsenal.

Weiss leaned back in his throne as he popped another cookie into his mouth. He was feeling bored today and chewed slowly as he thought of various ways that he could alleviate this particular state of mind. For the first time since they overthrew Shinra Weiss found himself with some free time on his hands and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

He could pay a surprise inspection to the Deepground barracks and grace the lowly foot soldiers with their Emperor’s presence. Perhaps make an example of a few of them to keep them on their toes. That could however, prove to be more troublesome than entertaining, he preferred to maintain an air of mystery and legend around himself in regards to the lower ranks and was in the mood for something else anyway.

Weiss’s icy blue gaze turned to his twin gunswords, which rested within easy reach of his throne. The polished metal managed to retain a hard gleam of their own, which shone through the dull environment of Deepground and the surrounding mako haze from the reactor. It had been awhile since he had used them, felt their strength as an extension of his own.

The white haired Emperor smiled, the edges of his lips curving upwards slightly as his eyes narrowed. Yes, some training would be the perfect way to alleviate his boredom, but who should he spar against? Anyone below the level of Tsviet would be a complete waste of his time.

Shelke, perhaps? No, her fighting style was too predictable and with her shield she was no fun at all. Weiss seriously doubted that her combat skills alone would have been enough to elevate her to level of Tsviet.

Azul? He was too brutal, no finesse. If Weiss wanted to fight a tank, he could go beat up one of the dragonflies.

Rosso? She could definitely pose a decent challenge, with her blood lust and speed, but Weiss knew that Rosso hated to lose and even if it was just a practice match, she would be sure to take it out on the rest of Deepground and that was one mess he did not want to deal with.

There was however, one contender remaining who would be ideal, his own kin and darkest of the Tsviets, Nero the Sable.

Nero was a rather enigmatic fighter, his particular style very different from Weiss’s own. Weiss took pride in his own rapid and elegant form of swordsmanship, making each cut as beautiful as it was deadly.

The dark Tsviet, on the other hand, was not what one would describe as a beautiful fighter, but rather adopted a style which combined both stealth and efficiency. Nero could dispatch entire legions of enemies without them even knowing they had been targeted. He merely enveloped them within his dark oblivion and the resulting pain and anguish they experienced made short work of even the bravest fighter.

Allowing an enemy to see his face was an honour that Nero reserved only for the most worthy of opponents, and he was a sight to behold, with his mechanical wings and long dark hair. The way that he was restrained often led people to underestimate the warrior, but he was certainly not one to be toyed with.

Weiss smiled again, broader this time, Nero would be ideal. It was always a challenge to keep one step ahead of his younger brother as he drifted in and out of the shadows. He had never gotten much chance to spar with Nero before the Tsviets had taken matters into their own hands and liberated themselves from Shinra’s control since the scientists were too scared to allow the dark-haired warrior even a breath of freedom. Now that Weiss thought about it, he actually hadn’t seen much of his brother at all since they freed themselves either. This would be a perfect opportunity to catch up with each other. Weiss sat up and activated the intercom which connected him with the rest of Deepground.

“Seiger Weiss!” a tinny voice came through the speaker.

“Tell Nero I want to see him,” Weiss ordered and cut the connection before another proclamation of his victory could be uttered. He knew that Nero would arrive soon enough and settled into his throne once more. He glanced around the spartanly furnished room again and noticed the bag of cookies; best to get rid of those before the other arrived. Weiss took one last cookie before shoving the remaining into a concealed drawer built into the armrest of his throne, pushing the bag down on top of the miscellaneous tools and items so he could close it again. He leaned back, running the edge of the biscuit against his lips absentmindedly, as he thought about the upcoming fight.

Weiss felt a particular affinity towards his younger brother that did not extend to the rest of Deepground or even to the other Tsviets that were under his command. Perhaps it was because he knew about just what Nero had gone through. Even though Weiss had been kept in check with the virus and was often physically chained to his throne as well, Nero they had kept brutally locked and bound to a pillar, alone. Even though they had been kept in different parts of Deepground, Weiss always knew when his brother called out for him amidst the pain and anguish.

Perhaps it was because he knew just how much the younger man looked up to him and adored him and how Nero depended on him for assurance and comfort. Weiss wasn’t so cruel as to completely ignore the feelings of the other; in fact, his own feelings were quite similar.

They were not just brothers, but lovers as well. That was something that may have struck people in the world above their heads as odd, but in a place like Deepground, where conditions were designed to strip away all humanity, love was something even more important to cherish no matter what form it manifested itself in. Weiss wasn’t sure at exactly what point their love for each other had turned into a deeper desire, sometimes it just seemed like yesterday when he was trying to protect his quiet little brother from the harsh reality of the experimental facility. But Nero had grown up into a deadly force, a being that everyone feared to touch, except for his brother, and their love grew ever stronger as they supported and comforted each other, being able to get lost in the pleasure of each other was one of the only things that made existence tolerable.

Due to the restraints masking his face and his formal manner of speech, Nero often came across as cool and aloof to others, although Weiss knew him well enough to see right through him. Nero’s emotions were always betrayed by his eyes, one just had to take the time to look into those crimson depths.

What Weiss enjoyed most however, was the fact that he was so often the cause of the emotion that Nero felt. Whether it be Nero’s longing gazes from across the room or the sight of Nero completely becoming his as he pressed the younger man’s body beneath his own, causing the other to writhe and gasp in lust as he held him in a powerful embrace. Weiss felt another emotion besides the adrenalin of anticipation of the fight wash over him and he definitely liked it. It had been far too long since he had last held Nero in his arms.

While caught in his reminisces Weiss noticed a pool of darkness gathering before his throne. Although he kept the entrance to his throne room locked his brother was free to come and go as he pleased. It was funny how after so many years of being forcefully confined in that room Weiss now chose it as his personal retreat.

“You wished to see me brother?” Nero inquired as soon as he had risen from the darkness. Weiss smiled in return, he always found Nero’s accent quite charming.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve had a chance to test our strengths against each other, dear brother,” Weiss began, “I’ve been itching for an opportunity for us to duel.” In all honesty, Weiss’s body was itching for something else as well, but for some odd reason he liked to earn the privilege of taking what was freely given to him anyway.

As Weiss spoke he noticed something odd. Nero usually was always focused on him whenever he spoke however today the other man’s attention seemed not to be on him but directed to a point slightly to his right. He followed the direction of his brother’s gaze and found that it had come to rest at his right hand, in particular at what was in his right hand.

Weiss had completely forgotten about the uneaten Oreo cookie. Was it really this simple biscuit that had managed to distract the dark Tsviet? There was obviously something that Nero was keeping secret from him and that intrigued him greatly. These thoughts passed through his head in a split second, before he had even finished his first sentence and he resolved that he would find out exactly what was going on.

Nero bowed his head slightly as Weiss finished, “I will do my best to be a worthy opponent for you brother,” he responded.

Nero’s mechanical wings reached downwards to draw two heavy handguns from the holsters strapped to the sides of his legs. Part of a set of four, the guns were designed specially to work in tandem with his artificial limbs. Although Nero’s wings appeared spindly, they were capable of bearing a remarkable amount of force.

“But,” Weiss added, before his brother could disappear once more into the shadows and their game began, “Let’s make things slightly more interesting.”

Nero paused and turned to face his brother once more; he remained silent, waiting for Weiss to continue.

Weiss held out the Oreo cookie in front of him, “Winner of our little duel gets this cookie,” he said, adding “it’s the last one.” Weiss grinned evilly as he saw a flicker of emotion flash across his brother’s eyes. This was turning out to be an absolutely wonderful way of teasing him. Weiss knew there was still over half a bag left of the cookies, but it was not information he was about to share with Nero, not when he could provoke such delightful reactions from the other.

“Very well brother,” Nero replied, trying to keep an air of nonchalance about him, “If you insist on adding these little rules to our game, so be it.” This did not deter Weiss for one moment however; he could hear a note of tension in Nero’s voice that indicated that it was anything but all right with his younger brother.

Weiss placed the cookie on the armrest of his throne and grabbed his gunswords, mounted them on his back, “Come little one, let us begin!”

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Duels in Deepground were anything but easy. The one rule of the hidden research institute was that you had to be strong to survive. There were no dulled blades or rubber bullets involved in a fight here, only real weapons and real blood.

Nero had already melted into the shadows as Weiss strode into the centre of the throne room. Weiss had learnt that when fighting Nero it was best to stay away from dark corners with the other could easily mount surprise attacks.

As he assumed a relaxed fighting stance; Weiss pulled one sword from its sheath and assessed the situation. As expected Nero was no where to be seen, but Weiss was not Emperor of Deepground for his strength alone, his ability to analyse his opponents and predict their movements and attacks was one of his greatest assets.

The high vaulted ceilings of the throne room would definitely suit Nero’s fighting style very well and Weiss adjusted his stance slightly in anticipation of an aerial attack. A split second later, a slew of bullets rained down towards him from somewhere to his upper right but Weiss was able to deflect them easily with the blade of his weapon. Like Weiss himself, his weapons had been made of the purest materials and infused with mako, no amount of bullets would be able to shatter the immaculate metal.

The warrior smirked, “Too predictable, little brother” he muttered under his breath.

The last bullets had hardly pinged off his broad sword when another onslaught of bullets was directed towards him, this time from ground level, somewhere off to his left. Weiss swiftly drew his other sword to block the new assault. Weiss cast his gold and blue eyes across the room at where the bullets had come from but he could see nothing beyond shadows. The white haired warrior quickly considered the situation. There could be two explanations for the rapid second attack. Either Nero was passing through his shadow realm to shift from one place to another or he had duplicated himself.

Weiss smiled to himself, either option would not be particularly hard for him to deal with. He half turned and stepped back as more bullets rained down on him, blocking them easily. The attacks came quicker now, alternating their point of origin more and more frequently. The Emperor felt the first prickles of sweat starting to rise on his body as he turned and shifted his lithe form faster and faster to block his younger brother’s attacks.

This was all well and good, but frankly Weiss was starting to get bored. Usually by now Nero had altered his strategy seeing how this sort of attack was never going to result in anything more than a stalemate between the two brothers. Nero would surely run out of bullets before Weiss succumbed to fatigue.

Instead of merely blocking the next barrage of bullets, Weiss shot back with his own weapons this time, the powerful rifle barrels sending heavy calibre single shots back towards the source of the attacks.

Bullets were never particularly effective against Nero, as long as the dark Tsviet was quick, his darkness could absorb the shots. The purpose of them was not to score a hit, but to slow him down enough so that Weiss could pinpoint his opponent’s location.

While the siblings were quite evenly matched when fighting at a distance; Nero’s weakness was close combat and getting it to that point was exactly the strategy Weiss was planning to apply to win this fight. Weiss grinned again as the torrent of bullets eased a bit, they still rained down from a variety of locations, but the Emperor knew it would not be long before he would be able to determine just where his little brother was.

Weiss manoeuvred his way out of the line of another assault; turning his hips sharply and using his momentum to catch the steam of bullets along the surface of his blades and fling them back towards their source. By this time Weiss had analyzed the pattern of attack and anticipated where the next one would come from. Really, Nero was making this far too easy from him.

Weiss grinned once more and stepped backwards, raising his swords to fire at the point where he was sure the next barrage was going to come for, only to be overcome by a strange sensation just as he was about to squeeze the triggers. More specifically, a strange sensation around his right leg. He jerked his head downwards, previous target forgotten as he watched the darkness envelop his leg and creep across his body, spreading from a dark smudge on the rough metal floor.

All Weiss could think of for a moment was that his little brother was incredibly clever. Nero had hidden in plain sight a patch of his own darkness and had expertly manipulated Weiss into stepping onto that very spot. While Weiss would have been sure to notice the darkness appearing around him suddenly, having it lie in wait out in the open where it wasn’t expected was ingenious.

He could feel the darkness sucking at his body; the murky tendrils had completely engulfed his right leg and was currently spreading down his left leg and wrapping their way around his waist, slowly immobilizing him. Weiss allowed himself a small smirk, any other fighter would have been absorbed within a second but not him; Nero always commented on how Weiss was hard to swallow, due to their opposing body compositions.

Weiss shifted a little, as much as he could, testing the strength of the darkness that was wrapping itself around him like a straightjacket. Idly he wondered if this was how Nero felt when he was bound within his Deepground uniform, when Shinra had immobilized him against that hateful pillar.

Before long he heard footsteps behind him, and the white haired man craned his neck around as much as he could to glimpse his brother approaching, guns still drawn and at the ready, waiting to see if Weiss would try anything.

Weiss followed with his eyes as Nero circled him, the darkness still creeping higher up his torso, starting to wrap around his shoulders and spread down his arms. Nero paused behind him and wrapped his metal wings around Weiss’s shoulders, drawing the two together back to front in a cold embrace.

“Do you concede Nii-san?” Nero leaned forward to whisper into his brother’s ear, his breath panting slightly from the exertion it had taken to corner and contain Weiss.

Weiss finally broke his silence with a laugh; a deep rich laugh that filled the room. Startled, Nero released his wings from his brother’s shoulders and took a step backwards. That was just what Weiss was waiting for.

“Never,” he hissed as he flicked his wrist backwards, just enough mobility left to impale the sharp tip of his sword through Nero’s gut.