...

Of Rules and of Pain

    Nico, sometimes, would...float. His head would spin off his shoulders as his mind placed him someplace else. Any noises or memories, feelings, couldn't reach him there. He was safe and alone in the little bubble he crafted.

   
    Unfortunately, this moment was not one of those times, and he had face everything the world was throwing at him with full clarity. 

   
    Clenching her jaw, Midnight slowly took her hands off Nico, and he shakily let out a soft breath. The frustration stemming from this entire situation colored his cheeks, flushing his face red, but he reluctantly told himself that Hades visiting would be beneficial. The god was stronger than any of these heroes, that was for sure. This was okay. He was going to be okay. 

   
    "Thank you," Hades murmured darkly as Nico's chair was forcibly pulled back. He stayed still as the metal handcuffs melted off his hands, leaving him sore, red marks around his bony wrists. That definitely wasn't Nico's doing, he noted with a frown; any powers he possessed were temporarily gone, so he muttered a quick thanks to his father before climbing out of the ripped, charred seat. Nico stumbled over his feet, still a little dizzy from the previous events, and while Hades made no move to help him, the temperature dropped as the immortal stared down the room. He quickly righted himself, moving next to his father.

   
    After a quick glance, Nico could see the god standing next to him was coiled, for lack of a better explanation. Pure, unfiltered power seemed to dance under his pale skin, and even Nico couldn't suppress a shiver as his father stepped towards the others. His robe was alive and unsettling as ever, poor souls screeching and thrashing against the fabric. Fire laced his bare feet, scorching the wood beneath them. Black, bleeding eyes shone with the flames from hell. The demi-god, a foot behind Hades, wasn't sure how much of this appearance was meant purely for intimidation, or because he was upset, but either way, he was relieved that he was standing with his father, not against him. 

"Everyone, sit down." 

   
    As Nico made a move to do so, Hades placed a cold hand on his shoulder, so he stopped in his tracks. The heroes were still frozen in place, hands on their weapons. Some seemed pissed; others looked like they were terrified. The reactions differed, but nobody took a step forward. The silence was suffocating and thick, the picture still, and Nico was too conflicted to do anything about it.

   
    Midnight did, however, make things easier by reaching for her sleeve and breaking the pattern. An inky, dark tendril crawled from under Hades' cloak, wrapped around her body with an inhuman shriek, and forcibly shoved her into a chair. Her head hit the table with a sickening, muted sound, and she slumped over against the wood. Of course, the heroes started to move, but before any of the reckless pros did anything, multiple black appendages made themselves known, a visible, silent warning. The shadows on the walls stretched and twisted, casting the room in dim, hellish light. 

   
     Nico swallowed thickly, watching the motionless body of Midnight against the table, her hair splayed across the top. This was off to a great start. 

"I said," Hades repeated, "to sit down." 

   
    This time, everyone did so.

All eyes were on the pair, Nico and Hades, two dangerous, unknown people. Two foxes in the henhouse.

   
    The god finally pulled his hand off his son's shoulder, leaving Nico with a lingering burn on his skin. He winced, but said nothing as Hades stepped to the side, cloak dragging behind him. His father settled behind Midnight's still body, looking down at her with blank eyes.

   
    "I'm not here to hurt you. This young woman was a necessary exception. All I want is to provide clarity to this situation, and to set some ground rules. Understood?'

   
    No objection was heard as Hades continued his slow path around the room, pausing and stopping at each individual chair. Some were almost completely passed, while others sat rigid as the ruler of death lingered by them. Nico watched silently as Hades made his way back around, slowing to brush a hand over the back of All Might's chair before stopping by his son.

   
    "My child, Nico Di Angelo, will stay in this facility and live in its dorms for as long as he pleases. He owes you no answers, or favors. All you must do is watch over him, and allow him to train with your most promising class, 1-A. I expect all needs to be fulfilled, and if done so, all of you will be rewarded handsomely." He sighed sharply.
"Coming down here was unfortunate, but needed to be done. To make things painfully clear, any harm done to my son by your hands or your recklessness will be punished." The air was suddenly sucked from the room, so much so that Nico raised his hands to his throat and staggered back. His fingers clawed desperately at his neck as his mouth dropped open. Air. He needed air. Hazily, Nico noticed the other people gripping the table, clutching their chests, or freezing up. Everyone was suffering.

"I'll bury you all alive if my rules are disrespected." 

   
    Hades looked to the side, meeting Nico's wide, panicked gaze. The demi-god watched his father stare at him, no mercy or care carved in the lines that made up his face, and realized with a cold, numb shock that he was alone. This quest, this death wish, was something he had no choice in. He could die here, away from anyone who cared, and his father would brush him off. Like always. This was how it was, and this is how it'll stay.

   
    The room swayed around him as Nico fell to his knees, shaking and dizzy. The flames dancing across the floor licked at Nico's skin, burning him and traveling up his shirt. Any energy needed to put out the flames or get up was too tremendous, too out of the reach, so Nico could only gasp and wheeze as the screwed his eyes shut, blocking out the pain. Tar filled his throat, choking him, suffocating him, killing him-

   
    Just as soon as it started, the chaos stopped. Whatever hell they were in fizzled out; the clock continued. The fire retreated, leaving Nico with sensitive, red skin. He could breathe. He could move. He would live.

 
    Nico hunched over, cradling his left, injured arm as he greedily sucked in breath after breath. His throat burned, acidic and rough, and stiffened as his eyes stung. Damn this. Damn it all. 

   
    "I believe that proves my point," his father spat, coldly and calmly. The ends of his robes moved in Nico's peripheral vision as Hades shifted, stepping around his trembling son. "Until we meet again."

    With a wave of cold hair and muffled screams, the god left.

   
    The room lightened and the temperature righted itself. The tension melted, ever so slightly, as the biggest threat seemed to have left. Hoarse whispers and gruff sentences floated around his head, but he ignored them all. Shoved them all aside. A tentative hand was on his back, some pairs of feet shuffled into view, but he stubbornly kept his head down. Nico's head was pounding. He couldn't deal with this. Not now.

    He wasn't sure where he was going, wasn't sure how long he'd run away, but he needed to be alone. Reluctantly, he called out to the shadows cast around him, and let himself melt into the darkness.