Here it is, the rewritten first chapter of Destiny :) I'm much happier with it. Enjoy!

It was bright, far too bright for him to see properly. The tinted goggles kept the pure sunlight from attacking his eyes and causing painful damage, but it was still uncomfortable as hell. Everything appeared hazy and washed-out. There was no way he could make out detail or things that were too far away.

It was because of this great hindrance that Matt didn't see the fence and didn't have time to get to stop before he went slamming right into it, knocking the wind right out of him. That split second of collision hurt like hell. The thin metal bars dug into his arms and face, surely leaving red marks to mark him as the idiot who'd run full-force into a fence. The worst part was one specific little piece of metal. It decided to stick out with a sharp point, penetrating right through quite a few layers of skin on his arm and digging far enough to cause the boy to cry out from pain. Luckily, the elasticity of the fence was kind enough to throw him backwards and onto the ground where the impaled metal couldn't follow. He clutched his arm where it throbbed and cried, momentarily forgetting about the horde of bullies that were starting to surround him. Their laughter finally caused him to look up and behind him, and then gasp, stand, and turn in a quick, smooth movement. This was bad.

"He actually ran right into the fence! I can't believe it! What idiot wouldn't stop?!" said one of the more articulate ones loudly.

The only one who didn't guffaw crazily was the leader, Oxen. He simply stood there, looking down at his prey with a cold, cruel glint in his eyes and a half-smirk on his face. His powerful arms were crossed and his powerful stance was shifted to the side to appear cool and casual. It was easy to see why no one ever crossed the bully leader. He was known to beat smaller kids bloody for the smallest of things, namely pronouncing the first syllable of his name wrong. Hearing him yell, "I am NOT a group of male CATTLE!" and then the pitiful cries of some poor child were very common to Wammy's House. Oxen, with a long "O" sound, was safe so long as you didn't catch his attention in any way. This was almost impossible, since it was very easy to interest him. All you had to do was exist where he saw you.

Unfortunately for Matt, not only did he interest Oxen, he was small, weak, and odd, and so the perfect target of Oxen's games. He also made interesting sounds when startled.

Having finished with their laughter, the gang of large, strong kids looked at their unquestioned leader for their next cue. There was silence for a minute.

"I wonder what those freakish goggles are for," Oxen mused as if to himself. His very voice caused a shudder to run down Matt's spine, especially since he was focusing on Matt's greatest weak point. "Let's find out." He leaned down with his hand outstretched. Matt immediately turned away from him while curling into a ball, successfully hiding his face with his limbs.

Oxen frowned. Immediately, two large posse members went on either side of Matt and hauled him up by either arm, slamming him back into the fence. Matt cried out in pain as the horrid bit of sharp metal punctured his upper back. The boys held him there regardless of the torture.

"Now, let's see what's so special about these…"

A piercing shriek stopped Mello in his tracks and caused him to look in the direction from which it was coming. Roger would have to wait.

Mello put on his best snarl face and walked right up to Oxen, feeling himself fill with disgust. This guy was third rank and he was acting in such a manner. It was shameful. The little wretch they were targeting had obviously done nothing or very little wrong. The kid was scared and in pain and for no good reason! Sure, Mello knew that he himself wasn't the nicest person around, but at least he had the grace to be properly offended before lashing out! "Oxen!"

Oxen turned and his smile grew. Mello tended to find Oxen's veneration of him to be creepy. "Ah, Mello, how nice to see you! We were just teaching this little rat a lesson on manners."

"I don't care what you think you're doing! I doubt that kid managed to do anything truly bad to you! Bugger off!"

"It's not what he did to me; it's what he did to our game of Frisbee."

"I don't care!" Mello repeated, "You probably did it on purpose! Knowing you, you probably threw it at him!"

"Still, he had the nerve to get hit with it." Oxen still had that grin! It was infuriating. "A proper lesson is indeed in order. But, if you so insist… It was getting boring anyways." Mello couldn't tell if by "it" he meant the kid, their game, or beating him up. Oh well, they were finally gone.

Mello sighed and looked down at his newest save. It was just some odd geek that Oxen so loved focusing on. Mello quickly assessed the damage. There was clearly blood on his light green tee-shirt. Some of the blood had run right down his arm and dripped down onto the ground a bit, causing Mello to wonder what on earth they'd done to make him bleed so (he hadn't seen any weapons on them). The kid was still tightly curled up on the ground with his face completely hidden.

Mello frowned, wondering why the kid hadn't at least looked up to see what was going on. Then Mello noticed something he'd notice Oxen drop: a pair of old goggles. Mello's quick mind made the connection instantly. "You have photophobia, don't you?"

There was a pause, supposedly because the kid was surprised Mello had said that, and then he replied, muffled, "Yes."

Mello didn't bother saying anything. He knelt and picked up the discarded eyewear. He had definitely had them a long time. The glass lenses were scratched and dirty and the black rubber strap looked like it threatened to snap at any time, and had in the past but had been repaired with some tape. Mello slipped them carefully over the boy's head while simultaneously moving the pale hands down, keeping those sensitive eyes covered at all times.

After a moment of letting his eyes adjust to being able to see again, the boy finally looked up at his savior. He had a fittingly boyish, round face with a little button nose. Mello would've called him a cute little guy if he thought any such thoughts, which of course he didn't.

"…You're stepping on my shirt," said the kid. Mello looked down to see that he indeed was. He didn't apologize and quickly stepped off the shirt so the boy could get up if he could. He was quite beat up; it probably hurt. The moppet would be crying like a baby soon enough.

To Mello's surprise, he swallowed his pain and got himself to his feet. To his credit, he only wobbled a little bit, but enough for Mello to quickly drag him over to a bench and sit him down.

"Careful, stupid," he said gruffly, yet with some form of gentleness he supposed."

"Sorry…" mumbled whatever his name was.

"It's not your fault; those guys are stupid. You'd best stay out of their way or it'll end up worse for you."

The kid shrugged and winced from the shrug.

"What's your name?" said Mello, figuring he'd have to stick around and finish what he started. He wished he had some medical gloves so he could lift up that shirt and see what was bleeding, but he was fairly avid about first aid so didn't.

"Mai-…Matt. It's Matt," he said in a lower mumble. He was obviously just getting used to using a pseudonym and was still in the acting-upon-his-dislike-of-it-by-acting-forlorn-about-it stage of Wammy's House. That wasn't so bad, Mello figured. They were fairly easy to deal with, if not a little bit gloomy.

"I'm Mello."

"I know."

Of course he did. Who didn't know who the great second rank was? "Can you walk yet?"

"I dunno…" mumbled the mumbler. Chatty little guy, wasn't he?

Mello rolled his eyes and hauled him up. "Come on, the infirmary's this way…"

Matt nodded dully and let himself be half-dragged into the House.