Superheroes

By Samurai-Nashie

Disclaimer: For the lawyers who read fan fiction, if you recognize it, I don't own it.

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begin prologue

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Sora was dead.

He lay on the ground, impaled by his own keyblade, sightless blue eyes gazing at something past the smoke-choked and fiery-red sky. In his right, blood-stained hand he grasped with what had been his remaining strength a cracked and faded star-shaped item, a keepsake of memories forgotten…

Around his corpse, the war still raged…and it sounded as if it would never end. Battle cries intermingled with choking coughs, harsh, victorious laughter, and sobs of defeat. The city had been decimated in the inferno, harsh, skeletal remains of what had once been proud buildings becoming the graveyards of hundreds of people…

Hell had come to earth.

Standing by the body stood a cloaked figure, eyes the color of the chilliest glacier with the same depth of emotion fixed on the keyblade that had pierced the boy's heart.

A flash of light was her only signal of arrival, and she appeared by his side, her cherub-like face stained with soot and blood nearly the same deep red as her hair. For the longest of seconds, the two said nothing, until the girl, because she couldn't have been out of her teenage years, knelt beside the young man's body. Her face revealed nothing as she scanned his face, her eyes following the bruises at his neck, the keyblade embedded forever into his chest, and then towards the item he held in his hand.

"He kept it," she said simply, reaching out to take the item, but her hand stopped a few inches away, hesitating.

"Of course he did. He loved you."

The girl scowled, her face twisting into a cruel sneer. "He shouldn't have." She spun to face him, fixing him with a glare so intense, her eyes glowed with an inner hellfire. "And what about you? He cared about you too."

The silver-haired young man said nothing for a few moments, and then, "It means nothing now."

The girl choked out a bitter laugh, turning to look at the face of the boy. "You're right." She reached out again, prying the small item out of the young man's lifeless grip. She stood then and held the star-shaped charm up slightly so that it caught the light of the burning fires around them, and laughed again. But this time the laugh was bittersweet.

And then she threw the charm into the chaos around them.

They stood solitary after that, quiet, reflecting in their thoughts. Then the girl turned to her companion, a smile on her face that did not meet her eyes, eyes that were now far too old for her face.

"Another memory buried."

"Another friend buried," the young man retorted, but his voice eerily lacked the anger and the grief that should have come with the statement. It was the voice of a warrior who had seen far too many deaths, had been hurt far too many times to even care about the loss of one single important person anymore...and yet, he couldn't have been any older than the girl...

The conversation would have continued, but they were interrupted by approaching footsteps. The two youngsters turned to see a young man approaching them, tousled golden hair and impossibly blue eyes making him look completely innocent, an angel amidst the fiery carnage surrounding them. His unmarked, unsullied appearance would have made it seem more likely…but the two in front of him knew better…

"He's dead."

It was stated quietly, but firmly. The girl nodded, tearing her eyes away from the blonde, the familiarity in his face too striking. If he noticed, he said nothing. Rather, he walked within five feet of them, staring down at a pair of unseeing eyes that were far too similar to his own.

"He was the last obstacle," the blond said, in the same quiet, boyish voice. "Find any remaining members of the Organization, and deal with them." He looked up into the faces of the two in front of him, and his eyes glittered with something that may have been maliciousness, may have been sympathy. No one could ever tell with him.

"Understood," the young man said, while the girl simply nodded her head.

Obviously satisfied with this answer, the blond continued to move past them, only halting for a moment to quietly say, "Make sure no one finds the body. I don't want a martyr." And with that, he was gone.

The girl bit back a harsh laugh. "A martyr? This war is full of them."

The young man turned to glare at her. "We didn't have a choice. This was the only path we could have taken."

"And look where it led us, Riku. We've taken the path straight to hell." With a wave of her hand, the body disappeared, invisible to all except her. "Let Axel take care of it. I've seen enough death for one day."

The silver-haired youth said nothing, only glanced around them, where, despite the moment of repose, the war still raged angrily around them. "Kairi…where did we go wrong?"

The girl laughed bitterly, the sound tinged with a hint of hysteria, and this time, her eyes shined brightly with unshed tears.

"What makes you think this is wrong?"

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Naminé opened her eyes, and let out a tiny gasp.

The woman was at her side immediately. "What did you see?"

The small blonde girl turned to look into the eyes of her elder, a pale looking woman with hair the color of ebony, and piercing hazel eyes. Her hands shook slightly, and she looked down at the book in her hands almost immediately.

"The end of the world."

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to be continued

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Author's Note: (12 July 2007): Here is yet another KH fan fiction, that is highly influenced by all those Marvel comic books that have begun to take up residence in my room (I really couldn't think of a more interesting name...). I'm very prolific this week, but I guess I shouldn't complain. With this prologue out the way (a very dark prologue that pretty much wrote itself), I can say that now I have five KH projects in the works, and can get back to updating a certain fashioned-based fic of mine that has been ignored for so long.

Things shall be explained soon (no, the rest of the chapters will not be this dark - I'd depressed myself everytime I wrote a chapter, and that's no impetus to continue). Comments and (polite) critique are very much appreciated. They make the author's world go 'round.

- Nashie