Nigel

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Nigel stretched his tired arms above his head and looked ahead. He felt exhausted. It had been 20 years since he had escaped with the Little Boss, ever since Kingpin's men had stormed Principe Mansion and massacred everyone. He always felt the gnawing grip of survivor's guilt, a weight he carried with him every day. His job was to protect the Little Boss, and he had done that, but at what cost? The images of that night haunted him, replaying like a relentless nightmare.

The old butler could still hear the screams, the gunfire, the sound of flesh meeting metal. The smell of blood and smoke filled his nostrils, as vivid now as it was then. He remembered clutching the infant Nero to his chest, running through secret passageways, his heart pounding with fear and determination. Nigel had sworn an oath to the Principe family, an oath of loyalty and protection. That night, he had failed everyone except the Little Boss.

"Survivor's guilt," they called it. Nigel knew the term well, but understanding it did nothing to alleviate the pain. He had watched Nero grow, transforming from a helpless baby into a formidable young man. Nero, with his piercing gaze and unwavering resolve, reminded Nigel daily of the lives lost, the promises broken. He saw glimpses of Nero's father in him – the same intensity, the same unyielding spirit. It was both a comfort and a torment.

Sitting in the dim light of his study, Nigel rubbed his temples, trying to ease the tension that had settled there. His mind wandered to the recent events, the incredible revelations about Nero's newfound powers, the Family System, and the bizarre yet exhilarating encounter with Nyx, now a sentient car with a vibrant personality. These developments were almost too much for the old butler to comprehend, yet they brought a spark of hope, a sense of purpose.

He thought about the rings, the roles they had distributed among Nero's friends. Each one represented a piece of the puzzle, a part of the plan to reclaim their legacy. Nigel was now the Cloud Guardian, a role that suited his shadowy past and his vast network of contacts. He had already begun reaching out to his old connections, weaving a web of information and influence that would support Nero's ambitions.

Nigel sighed, his gaze drifting to the photograph on his desk. It was of the Principe family, taken just a few days before the massacre. They all looked so happy, so unaware of the doom that was about to befall them. He traced a finger over their faces, lingering on Nero's father. "I promise you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "I will see your son reclaim what is rightfully his. I will help him avenge our family. I will not fail him as I failed you."

A knock on the door pulled Nigel from his reverie. He quickly composed himself, wiping away a tear. "Come in," he called, his voice steady once more.

A young man entered, looking at Nigel's old face with a mixture of reverence and concern. This young man was Marco, a poor soul Nigel had saved years ago from the clutches of a street gang. Loyal to him, Marco had become one of Nigel's most trusted operatives. Anthony wasn't the only kid he saved over the years. He had placed Anthony near Nero because both were of the same age, and secondly, he saw fire in Anthony, a fire he knew would burn together with Nero's. Looking at the ring on his finger, Nigel chuckled softly; fire seemed apt now that he thought about their newfound abilities.

"Marco," Nigel greeted, his voice warm despite the weariness that lingered. "What is the result?"

"They are on their way to meet you," Marco replied promptly, his tone respectful yet tinged with excitement. "I made contact with the old guard, just as you instructed. They were skeptical at first, but when they heard your name, they agreed to a meeting. They still remember the old days, and they trust you."

Nigel nodded, a sense of relief washing over him. "Good work, Marco. Thank you."

Marco hesitated for a moment, studying Nigel's face. "Are you alright, sir? You look...tired."

A wry smile tugged at Nigel's lips. "I am tired, Marco. It's been a long journey, and there's still much to do. But seeing you and the others stepping up gives me hope. We have a chance to make things right."

Marco's eyes shone with determination. "We will make things right, sir. For the Principe family, and for everyone who believes in what they stood for."

Nigel reached out and clasped Marco's shoulder. "Your loyalty means more to me than you know. Together, we'll rebuild what was lost and avenge those who were taken from us."

Just then, another knock echoed through the study. Marco stepped aside, allowing two figures to enter. The first was an older man with a stern expression, his hair graying at the temples—a former ally from the days of the Principe family's power. Beside him stood a younger woman, her eyes sharp and assessing, a reflection of her father's guarded nature.

"Nigel," the older man greeted, his voice gruff but familiar. "It's been a long time."

"It has, Robert," Nigel replied, approaching the figure for a handshake.

Robert's gaze flicked to Marco, then back to Nigel. "Your message was...unexpected. But if what you say is true, then you have our support."

The woman was more skeptical. She was Robert's daughter, having never seen the old Principe family or understood what their name truly stood for. Robert still remembered, his loyalty unwavering even after all these years. He wanted his daughter to inherit his legacy and establish a bond with the Principe Family, but she was conceited due to the small successes she had achieved over the years.

Nigel didn't care. He had long ago learned that some opportunities came for a very small window of time. If you miss it, a lifetime of regret couldn't bring it back. He understood Robert's intention, and for the sake of their old friendship and Robert's help, Nigel would assist her, but only if she grasped it.

Nigel regarded the two newcomers, his sharp eyes assessing them. Robert stood tall, his presence commanding despite the weariness that lined his face. His daughter, however, exuded an air of defiance and skepticism, her arms crossed over her chest as she glanced around the study with an appraising eye.

"Thank you for coming, Robert," Nigel said, extending a hand. Robert grasped it firmly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"It's good to see you, Nigel," Robert replied, his voice carrying the weight of years gone by. "This is my daughter, Janice. She's been handling some of our operations."

Nigel turned to Janice, offering a polite nod. "Welcome, Janice. I appreciate you taking the time to come here."

Janice's gaze was piercing, her expression guarded. "My father speaks highly of you, Mr. Montgomery. But forgive me if I need more than words to be convinced."

Nigel's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Skepticism is healthy, Janice. Especially in our line of work. But actions speak louder than words, and I intend to show you the value of this alliance."

Robert cleared his throat, sensing the tension. "Nigel, we've been out of the game for a while. What exactly are you planning these days?"

Nigel leaned back in his chair, considering his words carefully. "I'm working on rebuilding some old connections, strengthening the network. The old guard may have scattered, but the loyalty remains. It's about laying the groundwork, ensuring we have the support we need when the time comes."

Janice's skepticism didn't waver. "And what exactly are you hoping to achieve with this... groundwork?"

Nigel met her gaze evenly. "Security and stability. For now, it's about ensuring we have allies we can trust, people who remember the old ways and are willing to stand by us."

Robert placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring. "Janice, I know this is a lot to ask. But Nigel has never led us astray before. If he says he has a plan, I believe him."

Janice's eyes flicked between her father and Nigel, the conflict evident in her expression. She wanted to believe, but years of hard-earned success had made her wary of grand promises.

"Alright," she said finally, her voice steady. "I'm willing to listen. But I need to see results. I need to know that this isn't just a pipe dream."

Nigel smiled but didn't answer. This was a call to repay Robert for all his help over the years. If Janice could change Robert's decision or ruin his boss's operation, Nigel would remove them from the plan. It wasn't a big loss. Robert too was aware of this, so he placed a hand on Janice's shoulder and said, "This is enough."

Janice's eyes darted to her father, her expression a mixture of frustration and confusion. She had grown accustomed to questioning everything, a trait that had served her well in their line of work. But Robert's faith in Nigel was unshakeable, and that alone demanded her respect, if not her agreement.

"Alright, Father," she relented, her tone softening slightly. "If you trust Mr. Montgomery, I'll trust your judgment."

Robert nodded, a small, appreciative smile tugging at his lips. "Good. Now, let's discuss more pleasant matters. It's been too long since we've had the chance to catch up properly."

Nigel's smile widened, genuine warmth filling his eyes. "Indeed, it has. How is your health, Robert? Last we spoke, you mentioned some concerns."

Robert chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. "Old age, Nigel. It's catching up with me, but I'm still here. Still fighting."

"And fighting well, from what I've heard," Nigel replied, raising an eyebrow. "Your operations in the South have been quite impressive."

Robert's eyes twinkled with pride. "We've had our successes. It's a different game now, though. The landscape has changed, and we must change with it."

Nigel nodded thoughtfully. "Adaptation is key. The world moves on, but the core values, the loyalty and honor, those remain the same."

Janice, listening intently, couldn't help but feel a growing curiosity. She had heard many stories about the Principe family and their allies, but seeing the respect and camaraderie between her father and Nigel was something else entirely. It hinted at a history rich with shared experiences, battles fought side by side, and a mutual respect that transcended time.

Nigel and Robert caught up for a while, then the father and daughter duo left, leaving Nigel alone in the room once again. The old butler sat back in his chair, reflecting on the meeting. The bond between him and Robert was one forged in the fires of hardship and loyalty, and though much time had passed, the respect remained. Janice's skepticism was understandable, but Nigel knew that actions would soon speak louder than words.

The study was quiet, save for the faint ticking of an old grandfather clock in the corner. Nigel's eyes wandered back to the photograph on his desk, the faces of the Principe family smiling up at him. He reached for a small glass of scotch, taking a measured sip to steady his nerves. The memories of that night twenty years ago still haunted him, but the purpose he found in guiding Nero brought a sense of solace.

He thought back to the conversation with Robert. The old ally had aged, his hair now more silver than black, but his eyes still held that same spark of determination. Robert's operations in the South had flourished, a testament to his cunning and leadership. Nigel respected that. It reminded him of the resilience required to survive and thrive in their world.

Janice, on the other hand, was a different challenge. She had her father's sharp mind but lacked the historical context of their shared past. Nigel saw potential in her, a fiery determination that could either become a valuable asset or a significant liability. He hoped for the former but was prepared for the latter. He had learned long ago to prepare for every eventuality.

Leaning back, Nigel let out a long sigh. The weight of his responsibilities felt heavier with each passing day. Protecting Nero, guiding him, and ensuring the success of their plans was no small task. Yet, despite the exhaustion that tugged at his bones, he found strength in the purpose that drove him. The image of Nero, a symbol of the future and a beacon of hope for reclaiming their legacy, fueled his resolve.

Nigel looked at the ring on his finger. "The Cloud Ring represents the attribute of 'limit,'" he mused out loud, his voice barely above a whisper. "Can it limit my pain, old age, or tiredness?" He seriously pondered, turning the ring thoughtfully. He still had doubts about the supernatural revelations despite seeing them with his own eyes. The gleaming purple stone seemed to pulse with a faint, otherworldly light, a tangible reminder of the new reality he was grappling with.

The old butler felt a twinge of hope as he considered the possibilities. The idea of limiting his physical and emotional burdens, even slightly, was almost too tempting to resist. His mind drifted back to the night of the massacre, the screams, and the relentless horror. Could this ring, this small piece of magic, really offer some respite from the memories that haunted him?

Nigel sighed, shaking his head slightly. It was hard to fully trust in something so fantastical. Even after witnessing Nero's abilities and the transformation of Nyx, there was a part of him that remained skeptical, rooted in the practical and the real. Years of dealing with the harsh realities of the criminal underworld had left little room for belief in the extraordinary.

But this was his life now. This was Nero's life. And as much as he might doubt, Nigel knew he couldn't afford to ignore the tools at their disposal.

He closed his eyes and focused on the ring, trying to feel its power. He envisioned the pain in his body, the constant ache in his joints, the weight of exhaustion that seemed to settle deeper with each passing day. "Limit," he whispered, hoping the ring would respond to his plea. For a moment, nothing happened. Nigel felt a flicker of disappointment, but then, slowly, a warmth spread from the ring, traveling up his arm and radiating through his body.

It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible. The pain in his joints eased, the ever-present ache dulled to a manageable throb. His mind felt clearer, the fog of weariness lifting just enough for him to draw a deeper, steadier breath. Nigel opened his eyes, a mixture of awe and relief washing over him. The ring had responded, even if only slightly. It was real. The power was real.

A tear slipped down his cheek as the weight of the moment hit him. This small relief was a gift, a sign that perhaps they could truly harness these abilities to achieve their goals. He had spent so long carrying the burden of that fateful night, of his failures and losses, but now there was a glimmer of hope. A chance to make things right.

Nigel clenched his fists, feeling the power course through him. "I accept it, Boss," he murmured, his voice trembling with a mix of gratitude and determination. "I accept the gift you bestowed upon me, and I shall destroy your enemies with this gift."

The warmth from the Cloud Ring continued to spread, a steady pulse that seemed to synchronize with his heartbeat. Nigel's old, weary bones felt a surge of strength, a renewal he hadn't thought possible. Tears welled up in his eyes as he considered the weight of this moment, the depth of the gift Nero had given him.

He took a deep breath, the air filling his lungs with a newfound clarity. The exhaustion that had weighed him down for so long seemed to lift, replaced by a steely resolve. Nigel wiped away his tears, his expression hardening with determination. He had a mission, a purpose, and he would not rest until it was fulfilled.

"Thank you, Boss," he whispered, looking at the photograph of the Principe family on his desk. "I promise you, I will not squander this gift. I will honor our family's legacy and protect Nero with my life."

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