Chapter ?

"You're an odd person, Mox," the man taunted, his feet carrying him in a close circle around the stationary figure. The muscles in Mox's jaw tensed, his teeth pressing together in his mouth until it was almost painful; the emotions from those in the room were so palpable that he'd begun picking them up, stealing them without meaning to. His fingertips twitched, as if he longed to lunge at the annoyance and strangle the life out of him. "You know that stealing emotions from someone means that you get to feel... but you won't do it, because you know the dangers of taking too much. Did you know that if you take all their emotions from them, you get to keep them for a short while? Did you, Mox?"

He could see Nero standing in the doorway, visibly confused. Layney and Jude were stuck standing just behind him, barely visible from where Mox stood. Snitch, standing next to Nero, her thin mouth set in an angry scowl. The man passed into Mox's line of sight once more and paused, bending slightly to put himself where Snitch's face had just been. A grin crept slowly across his mouth, and Mox flinched ever so slightly at the grotesquely maniacal expression. He wanted nothing more at the moment than to destroy him, to kill this monstrous creature that masqueraded as a man, and get away from this place.

"You did know that, didn't you. But you wouldn't do it, because then you'd be a murderous beast or something like that." The man threw his head back and let out a barking laugh. "So chivalrous, to sacrifice like that. How wonderfully noble of you." He reached out a hand and hovered it just over the smaller boy's cheek for a moment before touching his skin, a caress almost gentle enough to be that of a loved one. "Do you know why you're here, Mox?"

"Don't touch him!"

Someone near the door was shouting; common sense would tell him that the voice belonged to Nero, and that Nero was the only one capable of seeing what was happening that would care and could scream, but Mox had lost all thought and sense the second the man had touched him. Through those fingertips, warmth was running into him, digging into his skin with such a pointed urgency that it was clear the man was forcing it into him. Planting his own emotions into Mox's head, to make him turn against Nero and Snitch, Jude and Layney, those who had stood allied with him up until this very moment. A whimper crept up his throat; he couldn't pull away from that flood.

"S-stop," he whispered, swaying on the spot. The man's hand stayed fast against his cheek, his predator's eyes gleaming excitedly. "Let go."

"Do you understand now, Mox? That you're not here because you want to be? You're here because Nero wants you to be." He pointed toward the door with his free hand, where Nero stood frozen, fists clenched by his sides. The order to remain there still stood, it seemed, as he couldn't force himself forward a single step. "You're here because he wants you to be here. Nothing you've done since I changed you has been by your own will, do you see that? Everything has been influenced by his emotions."

Nero was screaming. The sound was so strange to Mox's ears that he wasn't sure what it was at first, so full of anger and rage that it sounded almost feral. Still, his body seemed to be set against obeying his own orders. His friend's gaze flickered from the man's face, so full of twisted pleasure over the pain he was causing, to Nero's. The emotions in his head were forming like a tsunami; happiness, sadness, fear, pleasure, hatred, love... all were flashing past and mixing together and presenting themselves as one, leaving Mox utterly unable to separate them.

"You don't know anything about Mox at all," he cried, pushing Snitch's hand off his arm as she tried to grab him. "You don't know how he's lived his life, what his personality is... you don't know who he is. Everything that you're saying is just to make him think that I don't care about him, isn't it? Isn't it?! If I didn't care about him, if I were using him like you're claiming, then why would I have offered you that deal?"

The first hard flicker of anger flashed in the man's eyes, for only a second before he managed to cover it up. Still, Mox could feel it, pulsating through the fingertips that were keeping him a constant prisoner. It had been two years since he'd had his own emotions robbed from him, and since then he hadn't felt anything like this. Any other time he stole, his body wanted it, craved it so much that to wait a moment longer would result in him losing control and killing someone. This overflow was unlike anything else he'd felt. It overwhelmed him, and left his body shaking.

"Stay here, Mox."

The fingers were removed far too easily from his face. A moment ago, Mox could have sworn that they'd become a part of him, inseparable from his own skin, because release from them didn't seem like an option. A spasm shuddered up his thin body, and he dropped to his knees, his left arm the only thing keeping him from falling face-first against the concrete. Even now, after being let go, the feelings that had been forced upon him were a tempest. He couldn't have moved from that spot, even if the order hadn't been issued. Shuddering breaths wracked him as he tried to reign in control, but it was all too much for his broken self to handle.

The man approached Nero slowly, taking his time and measuring his steps. He stopped a few feet away from the small group, their faces all decorated with defiance, and tapped his chin thoughtfully as he stared. He had faced them all before, of course, but never had he seen them all standing together, those that he had stolen from and destroyed. The only one missing was the single man he'd left curled on the floor.

"I've come to realise a few things about you over the past week or so, Nero Watase." He took another step closer, his hand waving through the air lazily as if he were conducting an orchestra. "You're extremely outspoken. That in itself is a rather irksome trait. However, you're also rather stupid." His hand ceased its meandering movements and he took another step forward. "Those two traits work horribly together. Makes you unbearable to be around. I've also realised... that you're superfluous."

"Jude. Jude," Snitch whispered, reaching for the boy. He twitched away from her fingertips and shook his head. "Jude please. I need you."

The whispers seemed to bother him even more, as he quickly closed the space between himself and the group, face markedly blank. A mask of composure. Nero found himself leaning back slightly, pulling away from the hand that was now reaching toward him. His feet were stuck where they were, unable to step back as the influence of the command still held over him.

"Superfluous?"

The man smiled and nodded, his hand wrapping gently around Nero's throat; a soft grunt issued from the boy's mouth as the his body automatically started drawing in whatever the guy would give. He didn't want this man's memories, though. Mox's frequently repeated words echoed in his mind: one should not take memories or emotions from trash, because that would just make them trash as well. They were better than that, as twisted as they were.

"You're useless to me, yes. Anything that you could obtain from a person could easily be obtained by Snitch as well, and she's much more pleasant to be around. Or so I believe, from what I've been told. She can do everything you can, and she can do it better. Thus... superfluous. And those whose existence is useless to me... don't get to live." His hand tightened around Nero's throat, adding pressure to sensitive spots. The palm of the hand was pressing down on his adam's apple. "So... Di-"

His voice stopped awkwardly, the last syllable of the word trapped in his throat; slightly surprised, he looked past Nero, to where Layney was standing. The girl's small hand had snuck over Nero's shoulder and wrapped around his wrist, fingers clenching tightly down. The expression of surprise slowly reformed itself into a derisive smile, and he raised his other hand in mock defeat. With that girl touching him, he would be unable to use his own voice. It belonged to her at the moment.

Nero had gone positively white, as had Snitch next to him. Her left arm was entwined around his in a futile attempt to move him, her right arm stretched behind her and reaching for Jude's hand. Jude was shaking his head fervently, adamant that he would not touch her. Snitch's hand searched vainly for any connection with him that could be found; she needed his eyes. She couldn't use Nero's right now, after all.