Chapter Three: Midnight Red




"Hmphf. The nerve of him coming on to me like that," Rosso said once they were in the elevator heading back down, "As eef he doesn't sneak eento zat room and make gray weeth Weiss. He wants to have hees cake and eat eet too."

"Weiss?" Bellatrix said, trying to make conversation. Knowledge was power. "She's…white, right?" It was the only thing black could mix with to make gray.

"He." Rosso corrected, leaning against the back of the contraption, "Weiss eez our leader, and Nero's older brother." And one of the few respectable males around. she added silently. It was nothing a rape victim needed to know.

"So. There's you, Nero, and Weiss. How many other Tsee-vets are there? Grand total?"

"Five. Maybe seex, eef Argento eez steel alive."

The elevator jerked to a stop. The doors slide open.

"And you're all named after colours?"

Rosso took the lead. "Yes."


She stopped a moment and drew the leash — Bellatrix — up close. "Eezn't eet obvious, Dah-ling?"

Bellatrix shook her head, trying her best to maintain a reasonable distance without bringing down the wrath of Miss Red Pain.

Rosso let out a short-lived chuckle. These humans could be so stupid, sometimes. "Tsee-vet eez a word meaning "color". Each of us eez stained weeth zee color of zee mako used to produce us: red, black, white, cerulean, seelver, and…clear got een there, somehow."

"Mako? Produced?" The concepts were foreign to Bellatrix.

Rosso turned her head forward again and resumed walking. "Of course. None of us were born zeese way…eexcept Nero, I theenk."

Bellatrix fought to keep up with Rosso's fast stride so the Tsviet wouldn't have an excuse to ruthlessly yank her leash. "What is mako?"

"Eet eez cree-stallized lifestream: zee source of mageek." She cast Bellatrix a suspicious eye. "How can you not know zat? You used eet."

"No. My magic comes from…another source."

Rosso laughed. "A source ahzer zan mako? Absurd! You understand so leetle."

Bellatrix blinked, her face twisting into an impression of confusion. Best to just go along with it. "So how were you 'produced'?"

"I don't know eexactly, just that eet involved zee red variety of mako, which would be Summon materia."

"But you don't look much different, apart from the way you're dressed."

Rosso gave her a condescending are-you-stupid. "Deed you see zee markings on Nero's arms?"

"The muggle tattoos? Yes."

Rosso came unglued. "Zey were not tattoos, and zey were most defeen-eetly not put zere by moogles!" Calming down, she resumed, "Those markings are stains from black mako — zee tainted lifestream. He eez more heavily marked zan zee rest of us, but we all have them, eexcept Shelke zee Transparent. You weel be seeing mine soon enough."

Bellatrix swallowed. She really didn't want to. "Who made you?" An innocent-enough question. She was trying desperately to steer the conversation away from pain, kink, dominance, and rape.

Rosso bit her lip, the question echoing in her mind. She didn't know specifically who had made her any more than any of the others did; the process erased all memories pertaining to identity. Although she knew she had to have had another life and another identity prior to being a Tsviet, she couldn't even remember her own name, and it seemed to her that she had always been Rosso the Crimson.

She shook her head a little. "Eet doesn't matter. Some scien-tests."

They passed a few very oddly dressed people who wore heavy uniforms complete with large bug-eyed masks. At least, that was what it looked like to Bellatrix.

Rosso knew they were standard Deep Ground soldiers/bodyguards and paid them no mind. They were happy to leave her and Bellatrix alone.

"Muggle scientists?" Bellatrix asked, horrified. A grisly picture of what must be going on was quickly taking form in her mind.

Rosso was annoyed. "Not muggles, moogles. And for zee last time, zey have nothing to do weeth zeese."

Oh, but I bet they do, Bellatrix thought in that special kind of sudden panic that came with the realization that something big and sinister was brewing way too close to home, The muggles are creating Tsee-vets to wipe out witches and wizards!

It all made terrible, terrible sense: a few muggle scientists had learned of the existence of witches and wizards, and, out of jealousy, sought to drive them to extinction. Somehow they'd found a way to harness magic in this mako Rosso spoke of, and from there created their abominations: a type of super magic-user with fearsome strength and speed. She had no idea how the hell they had done this, or why the magic had split into different colors, or what the mysterious 'lifestream' had to do with any of it, but that had to be the case. Nothing else made any amount of sense.

I have to get back! I have to warn Lord Voldemort! If they had any prayer at all of saving their kind from deadly Tsee-vets which were immune to killing curses and boasted a fighting style that was the perfect muggle-wizard hybrid, they were going to have to deal with the five or six promptly before the muggles had a chance to produce more and launch their attack.

Of course, that brought the question of how. With magic being far less effective of a weapon — the Tsee-vets did, after all, have a ridiculous level of it in their system in addition to being able to use it wandlessly — what did that leave?

They would be impossible to muggle-fight. Sure, Lord Voldemort had werewolves and other physically strong monsters at his disposal, but against Tsee-vets they would be of little help. The werewolf Greyback in particular was an exceptionally strong, bloodthirsty brute, but Rosso could kick his ass hands down no matter the time of night or month. And reading between the lines there was evidence that some of the other Tsee-vets were even stronger and more powerful than her.

She had no more time to ponder, however, as they reached their destination: a solid gray metal door that would be no different from the other twenty-plus they had passed along the way if not for the bloodred symbols etched onto it.

Rosso opened it and pulled her bitch into a spacious lounge decorated with gorgeous red carpeting and half a dozen chairs and loveseats all made of the finest materials. Save Shelke, the room was completely empty, still, and quiet enough to hear an insect's death-scream.

Shelke rose off the comfy black velvet chair she'd been sitting on and approached, holding out a pair of silvery handcuffs. She looked highly disturbed and uncomfortable. "Here. Just like you asked." she told Rosso, wrinkling her nose a bit in disgust, "The rest is at the foot of the violet-and-black loveseat."

Rosso dropped her whip, and the cuffs exchanged hands. Smiling, she thought If only she were older…"Good girl."

Shelke kept her head bowed and refused to meet her gaze. She made for the exit. Passing Bellatrix on her way out, she looked back at her and said quietly "I almost feel sorry for you."

Then the door shut and she was gone.

"Eet's just you and me now, Love." Rosso purred in the sexiest voice she could muster.

Bellatrix sprung for the door with a swiftness that surprised even her. "Help! Help! I'm trapped in — gah!"

Rosso jerked back on her leash so hard it almost broke some vertebrate; she fell towards the floor and was heartily ripped back to her feet. "Let go of me you filthy bitch!" She screamed as loudly as she could, because what else was there? Thrashing like a wildcat caught in a snare, she punched and kicked with all her life. She dove for her dagger —

Rosso took her by the hair and jerked her almost into her bosom. She's fighting back. How cute. How futile. She couldn't even appreciate the effort; Bellatrix could simply not hit her hard enough for it to hurt, and she barely felt most of it.

However, she was going to have to do something about that noise — it wouldn't do to have half of Deep Ground barging in on the fun.

She grabbed a fist that was on a collision course with her face midair and pulled it back down as though it were a delicate butterfly. Twisting the screaming witch around with a speed that would make Weiss proud, she handcuffed her wrists behind her back with such form and grace that it appeared to be one fluid motion. Then she dealt her victim-to-be a blow to the face, taking care not to put very much strength in it but allowing her artificial claws to sink in a decent bit. "Zat eez enough!"

Blinded by pain and blood, Bellatrix shut up.

It hurt.

God, it hurt so badly.

Her jaw was probably shattered, she was sure, and her left cheek was wet with warm, sticky blood — she had barely missed her eye.

Rosso led her along to the violet-and-black loveseat. Her face lit up with delight when she saw that everything she has asked for was there: a small collection of specialty knives, some rope, a glass flask, her double-bladed gun, painful-looking lesbian sex-toys , and a simple white cotton cloth that would make an excellent gag.

"Look at all zeeze wonderful presents!" She grasped her pet's collar and thrust her head down, forcing the already-terrified woman to get an even better look at what she'd seen perfectly well from her previous position. "All toys and no boys!"

"You vile, disgusting, fucking insane cretin!" Bellatrix spat. If I'm going to get tortured and raped anyway I might as well make myself a little more deserving.

Rosso only grinned, her mind swimming with visions of sadistic lesbian sex that would be their kinky crimson love. Seizing the cloth, she gagged Bellatrix in record time, making this one even tighter than before. "How's zat feel?" she cooed, "Better zan zee ahzer one, no? Only zeese time, Nero eezn't here to slash eet off."

Fuck you. Bellatrix's eyes blazed with hate. She tugged uselessly at her cuffs. Tried to think if she knew any spells or charms she could cast both nonverbally and wandlessly that would be even remotely useful. Not like it was going to be easy to concentrate enough to pull them off when she was in this much pain.

The knives!

Too bad her hands were secured tightly behind her back, and even her mouth was useless.

Could she float one?

In all likelihood, no — she'd always been the type who'd had to rely heavily on her wand — but it wouldn't hurt to give it a try. She had nothing to lose.

Rosso let go of her neck and she stood up again, focusing on the knives, praying she would have the power and luck she would need.

"Get down beetch!" Rosso scolded harshly, thrusting her into a red-and-violet loveseat with a powerful crack of her leash.

Bellatrix choked on her own spit as her head collided solidly with the mahogany frame.

Rosso grabbed a particularly choice knife — one with a grooved blade and jagged edges designed for twisting and ripping out flesh — and was on her in a flash. Shoving her squirming victim all the way up into the plush, rich violet pillow-cushion which instantly contoured to her body's shape, she flipped her onto her back and straddled her.

Bellatrix struggled violently, pleasing and exciting her. She'd been dreaming of this day for years, and it was finally here! She was going to savor every sweet, rocking, wet, bloody moment. So fortunate and wonderful that her first was a fighter, even if she had a body made of glass. So delicious that she was a succulent, raven-haired beauty.

After allowing Bellatrix's struggles to get her worked up to a fever-pitch, she used her knife and claws to tear and slash her clothes off her, not caring if she caught flesh along the way, until she was reduced to nothing but her bra and underwear. These were sleek, black silk fashioned in curving, revealing, sexy styles that made Rosso drool and vibrate with anticipation.

Oh, but not quite yet. she told herself, though she yearned to ruin and destroy this spirited little vixen sprawled out under her.

Gingerly, almost lovingly, she laid the flat of the blade against her lover's tender cheek. Bellatrix's eyes followed it closely, consumed with fear. Rosso reached up with her free hand and brushed a few locks of her hair away from her forehead with the care of a mother caressing a child, careful not to let her wicked talons draw blood.

In a now-or-never move, Bellatrix bucked upward with a sudden surge of vigor that failed to throw or even dislodge her redheaded foe.

Rosso grinned broadly, and this time a fair number of pearly-white teeth were visible. "Oh, Love, you're just too hot to handle! I like that. Like that you won't geeve me what I want just because I'm going to get eet anyway." She leaned forward and gave her a wet kiss, sucking and licking at her lips hungrily.

Bellatrix made a soft moaning sound, bloody tears staining her gag.

Rosso pulled up, her lips messy with diluted blood. "Alright. Time for you to pley-sure me." Her face radiated lust. "We Tsee-vets like eet rough."

Had she been able, Bellatrix would have screamed.


Rosso had not been in the least kidding about liking it rough. The times were too numerous when Bellatrix felt the merciless slash of metal claws, the stinging kiss of the whip, the fiery passion of knives slicing just away from major arteries.

Rosso cut her every so often to enjoy the fresh, warm blood spurting over their bare flesh like a liquid aphrodisiac; she even broke the glass flask and embedded the shards deep within the cuts, just to satisfy her craving to see her unwilling companion write in true, agonizing pain.

Bliss! Pure bliss!

At least, it was for her.

Bellatrix wished she would just hurry up and kill her every terrible, hellish second, and even though she was not religious, she found herself reaching out and praying to God, or the Goddess, or whoever would listen to please, please make it stop, because it was too much to bear.

They were, of course, completely naked by this point, and Bellatrix got to see every square inch of Rosso's red mako stains. The thin stripes were scarcely wider than thread in places and covered the area just under her collar-bone, the back of her shoulders and neck, the tops of her hands and feet, and inner thighs in a wavy tiger pattern that bled a lot of loose color around the broken and unbroken lines.

Rosso's natural fingernails were long and red, and while they were no substitute for metal, they were nonetheless very sharp, ridiculously durable, and just as painful. Rosso drug them down Bellatrix's back and sides like a cat clawing a tree, licking at the blood to taste it, swallowing it only in minute amounts.

She found the rope and sex-toys and delighted in experimenting with new and inventive ways to use them to her heart's content.

All Bellatrix could do was groan and offer the feeble struggle in increasingly less frequency. Is this…karma? Is this my punishment? She couldn't imagine that she'd done anything so wrong as to deserve this kind of extreme, humiliating torment, but at the same time she couldn't accept that there wasn't some sort of underlying reason. She knew she hadn't been the nicest witch around, but did she really have this coming to her?

Everyone she'd tortured…everyone she'd killed…they'd had it coming.

They were weak, mudblood and muggle-loving idiots, and they deserved every bit of what I gave them! They deserved to be tortured into insanity! They deserved to die!

They deserved it…

So many muggles murdered. So many mudbloods killed. And those who would sympathize with them…all dead. Most had died in excruciating pain, when she'd had the luxury of giving that to them.

Excruciating pain…

Like she was receiving now. Like Rosso was giving her.

This was so much worse than the Cruciatus curse the two couldn't even compare. This couldn't be attributed to simply bad luck. It just couldn't.

Then Rosso started to make true, full-force lesbian love to her, and Bellatrix's thoughts shattered into fragmented colors of agony..

Rosso was so strong, and she got so carried away, that Bellatrix literally broke beneath her: bones snapped like twigs, ligaments were torn, and her skin became a quiltwork of blues, violets, and blacks smeared with blood.

It was too much. Just…too much.

Rosso saw her pet begin to black out and removed her gag to prolong the pleasure, but it helped only a little. Though her main blood vessels had been spared, she was still bleeding way too much, and there was too much broken inside. Her heart fluttered faintly beneath her breast, weakened by the loss of blood, extreme stress, and bodily trauma.

Bellatrix didn't have the luxury of acknowledging her last moment — blackness came like a thief in the night. She was only unconscious a minute or two before death followed on its tail, fully removing her from the scene of a bloody crime and its vicious perpetrator.

It wasn't for another three or four minutes after this that Rosso realized her bitch was dead and stopped what she was doing.

With a disappointed sigh, she got up and re-dressed. They break so easily.



A/N: C'mon, hit that little "review" button. You know you want to. ((grins))