A/N: Alright, so it seems that you have found my latest creation! Congratulations! Here's the deal with this fic… one of my "do before I die" goals in life is to publish a book. Yes… publish… as in 'make money'! So this is probably going to be that book, however… of course several details will have to be changed, such as names of people, places, and such. So here's my disclaimer: I OWN THE STORY! I OWN THE PLOT! Haha, however, I do NOT own the characters from Kingdom Hears, duh: )
SO! I thought that I would write a Kingdom Hearts version as I am writing my book, so that all my lovely fanfiction fans and readers can enjoy it! So here's my gift to you…
Prologue
Ash and soot singed his nose, burning his eyes and blurring his vision. He cursed again as he stumbled through the veil of smoke obscuring his path, falling into a wall and crashing to the ground. His body badly burnt and his mind fading from lack of oxygen, he heaved himself to his feet and staggered along the wall, using his hands to guide him through the thick shroud of smoke. His vision weakened further, to the point that he couldn't differentiate between the blackness of the smoke surrounding him and the darkness that was slowly closing in as he gasped for air. The sound of crackling flames and broken lumber filled his ears as the house was slowly crashing down around him. His lungs burned with desperation as unconsciousness settled around him, and he collapsed once again to the floor, narrowly missing the huge beam crashing to ground behind him.
He had seen people die; it was in his line of work, some right in front of his eyes. Some say that your life flashes before your eyes, or you realize the meaning to your existence. But, none of that seemed to unfold as he lay in the ash, awaiting his last breath. As Dr. Lei drew his last shallow breath, filling his lungs with smoke and soot, he barely heard the firefighter's words of encouragement before he slipped into nothingness.
It was beautiful. The sky was ablaze with color, painted in hues of orange and red from the flames that danced with the stars that twinkled above them. It reminded him of a painting, the way the horizon glowed. Like a sunrise signaling the dawning of a new day. The subtly of color was truly remarkable, the way the flames contrasted against the black sky. It was a masterpiece, an original, and one that he had created.
He chuckled at the illusion as he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a silver Zippo lighter. It felt comfortable in his hand as he flipped the cover open and clicked it on, lighting the cigarette hanging loosely in between his lips. "Dr. Lei," he acknowledged out loud as he snapped the lighter shut and blew a small puff of smoke past the lit end of the cigarette. "Number thirty-nine. What a show…"
The device he had used for this job was truly genius. Who knew a watch, some hot wires, and a few kerosene drenched cloths could become a ticking time bomb? Well, when it's placed in the air duct for the dryer of course… No one would ever suspect foul play; perhaps an electrical mishap or clumsy house maid had started the fire?
He smiled inwardly as he watched the burnt remains of the Lei mansion continue to light the horizon in red hot flames, "It was almost too easy," he smirked as he turned on his heels, the edge of his long black coat brushing over the tops of his boots. He reached for the small silver cell phone on his hip as he started up the long winding drive. He flipped the phone open before dialing an unlisted number and waiting for a familiar gruff voice to pick up on the other end. "S, it's Arrows… The Barbeque started late, but the grill is ready." He didn't wait for a response as he snapped the phone shut and returned it to its holster. His gloved fingers brushed over the 9 MM situated in the holster under his arm, and a surge of energy seemed to course through his veins from the contact. He was almost sorry he hadn't used the weapon for this job, but he still appreciated its comforting presence.
As he reached the grove of trees at the end of the drive that hid his black motorcycle out of view, he turned around to take one last look at his masterpiece, reveling momentarily in the successful completion of his thirty-ninth job. He took one more drag on his cigarette before throwing it to the dirt and extinguishing it with his boot. The cinders scattering around in the dirt reminded him of the cinders that littered the night sky behind him. Red and blue lights turned the corner down the street as he mounted his bike and took off in the opposite direction, leaving black tread marks and a spray of gravel in his wake.
The call had come. The job finished. Sora Arrows had done it once again. Well… that's what I had come to call him anyways. "Arrows." Neither of us was really sure how it got started, but it had become his alias of sorts, and it was hard to even imagine him as Sora Hikari anymore. That name was gone… dead. It died the night he targeted and finished off his first hit almost six years ago. He was just a kid then, only seventeen, but he had completed the job with the grace and poise of a seasoned veteran. I had guided him, of course… 'taught' him if you will. He grew up with the life of a contract killer, and he wore it well. Not that I expected less, he did learn from the best.
But don't be fooled… life was never easy for him. Growing up with a drunk belligerent father and no mother never is. But as I look back now, I figure that's what made him so brilliant, a "master of his craft" as he put it. You see, Arrows never really knew his real mother. She died when he was only a few months old, but we'll get more into that later. His father had him off and on for a few years, that is, of course, when he wasn't sleeping in the back of gentlemen's clubs or on the streets. When he was five, his father went missing after a drunken brawl at a night club and Arrows came to live with me after a court order. Arrows hated his father, always has… and my guess is that he probably always will. We haven't heard from the guy since Arrows started high school. He got an unmarked postcard from Chicago when he graduated, but we happily assume that he finally drank himself to death.
I tried my hardest to give Arrows a good home, well as good a home as a contract killer can make that is... We moved around a lot, as is the nature of the job. But Arrows loved every minute of it, and he basked in the life that he had come to know with me. Of course, I made sure that he went to school and did all his homework, but it was the life of contracts that drew his interest, so when he turned 15 I started taking him on jobs with me… teaching him the ropes so to speak.
But back to the night of the Lei contract… After I got the call, I did what I always did. Celebrated… with a bottle of the city's best Bordeaux and a few Cuban cigars. Arrows rarely came straight home after a hit, sometimes it would be a few days before he came to pick up his share of the proceeds.
Ah, yes. The money… and lots of it. Contract killing is a lucrative business. People will pay top dollar for a job done right. So much, in fact, that Arrows and I had made quite a business of it, and we each lived more than comfortably on only five to seven jobs a year. I suppose you could consider me his contractor of sorts. The name "Arrows" is infamous in the hired guns' world, but his clients never get the opportunity to meet him. I set up the job, he fills the order. In fact, I haven't actually made a hit since that first job of Arrows' six years ago…
------------------------------------------FLASHBACK-------------------------------------------------
It was one of those nights that time seemed to stand still, minutes turned to hours and the hours seemed endless as Sora Hikari sat waiting silently behind the steering wheel. The limo driver's unconscious body lay in the passenger seat, the chloroform-soaked cloth still lying in the seat next to him. The dark ally way behind the club was vacant, or it at least seemed vacant. He knew there were cameras and bouncers watching him… he glanced at his wrist watch. 1:55 AM… the club closed in five minutes, which meant that soon the back door would open and Victor Jennings and whatever female caller he chose for the evening would be occupying the now empty leather seats in the back of the limousine.
Sora sighed nervously, his fingers twitching as they grazed over the 9MM that was tucked in the folds of the cheap polyester jacket he had "borrowed" from the driver. The silencer stayed concealed in the inside jacket pocket, and his mind raced as he went through the sequence of events to play out for the hundredth time.
His thoughts were interrupted as the back door suddenly swung open and a short heavyset man with salt and pepper hair stumbled into the car, "As always, a pleasure to have you here Mr. Jennings." Sora released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the club owner helped Victor Jennings into the limo. To Sora's relief, he was alone, "Are you sure that you won't be needing any company this evening?" The man mumbled something incomprehensible before slouching across the seats and laughing obnoxiously.
"As you wish Mr. Jennings," the club owner replied respectfully before turning his attention to the tinted divider window separating Sora from the backseat, and keeping him out of sight. "Driver!"
Sora drew a deep breath and pulled a gloved hand up to crack the small divider window ever so slightly, keeping quite and waiting for the club owner to continue. Rule one of a hit: No words.
"Mr. Jennings will not be having any female callers this evening. See that he makes it home in one piece." The club owner did not wait for a reply before he turned and walked back into the back entrance of the club, which was good because Sora was not planning on giving him a reply in the first place. He rolled his eyes and pulled the divider shut again as the man in the backseat continued to babble incomprehensibly.
Victor Jennings… A 'respectable' name in the record industry. Well, not respectable. Well known, perhaps… mainly for his corrupt business dealings and his way of cheating clients out of thousands and thousands of dollars. He sat on millions of dollars and empty promises, while his clients bargained and pleaded for recognition in the music business. Recognition they more than likely would never receive, as long as they were dealing with Victor Jennings that is.
Word around town was that he was also deep underground in the laundering of certain illegal substances, mainly heroin and cocaine. However, the hire for this particular job was solely based on Mr. Jennings' latest record scandal. Rule two of hits: No hires for drug deals gone bad. The world of illegal marketing spans continents, and is not something that one can easily manipulate. It's dangerous, unpredictable, and worst of all… it's territorial. Drug dealers tend to run with their own kind, meaning that one hit can turn into many, including the hitter. People out for revenge put high stakes on bounties, and will do anything to collect.
No, Mr. Jennings was not a target tonight because he was a druggie. He was a target tonight because Aeris Lovelace had come to him expecting stardom, and he didn't deliver. In fact, he took her for all she was worth, leaving Aeris broke, hungry, and anything but famous. She had come to him as Aerith Gainsborough, a 16 year old girl with hopes and dreams of making it big in the world of jazz music. But after four years, Victor Jennings turned her into Aerith Gainsborough, a 20 year old woman addicted to cocaine and dancing topless at the local strip club. When her father, second in command of what you might call a mafia, found out what had become of his little girl, he pulled her out of Victor's grasp and started looking for a contract. Aerith changed her name and Victor skipped town.
But that wasn't enough to hide him from a contract. After only two months, Sora was tipped off that Victor was back at it in the entertainment business, working from the back room of the Coco Bongo Club. It wasn't long before the plans were drawn and the time had come to put them to action. Though, only seventeen at the time, Sora's partner, his mentor, finally decided that Sora was ready for his first target. He was ready for his first hit.
And ready he was, as he steered the car through the back ally and down the street, towards the abandoned warehouse parking lot that they had predetermined as their target locale. He was relieved that Victor had seemingly passed out, as his ramblings had finally stopped, temporarily at least. He pulled the car into the lot, shutting off the headlights and using the pale moonlight to light his path. It was quiet, deserted. Just as it had been a few nights ago when Sora had spent all night scouting it out to make sure no homeless wanderer had made a home of it.
He stopped the car in the far corner of the lot and killed the engine. The silence surrounding him was thick, and he sat very still for several minutes listening. The only sound he heard was the snoring coming from the backseat and the faint song of a hoot owl in the distance.
He glanced at the still-unconscious driver in the seat next to him before opening the driver's side door and climbing out of the car, being careful to grab the 9MM out of his jacket before it fell to the ground. He pulled the limo driver to the driver's seat, positioning him in the seat with the chloroform soaked cloth in his lap so that it looked like there had been a struggle. He was glad he had remembered not to change the settings on anything after he drugged the man, he fit the seat perfectly. After a few minutes of struggling, he managed to get the polyester jacket back on the driver.
Once Sora was satisfied with the driver, he turned his attention to the back door. He drew a deep breath in preparation before pulling out the silver handgun and screwing on the silencer that he had stuck in the waistband of his pants after pulling it out of the jacket pocket. Reaching out his black-gloved hand, he gripped the door handle and tugged on it to the open the door.
Victor Jennings. He was asleep… out like a light. Snoring and moaning, no doubt dreaming about the call girl that had not come home with him. Sora's brow was pierced with determination as he pulled the handgun up and aimed it at Victor's head…
One shot. It was over. Victor was dead. His blood splattered all over the back window and the new hole right between his eyes was enough to prove it. Sora breathed a slow sigh of relief through pursed lips. "Victor Jennings," he said aloud, in a deep voice that was beyond his young age, "My first hit…" Sora smiled as he wiped the blood from his face with the back of his gloved hand, "What a rush."
----------------------------------------END FLASHBACK--------------------------------------------
His first hit, and certainly not his last… That night started a chain of events for Sora Hikari. It marked a new chapter in his life. It was shortly after that that I started calling him "Arrows". It wasn't until the police released the news of Victor's murder two days later that the realization of what happened set in. Arrows could finally call himself a Contract Killer.
The driver had awoken and immediately called 911 from his cell phone when he found the bloody remains of his employer slumped over in his back seat. Of course, he didn't remember a thing. Chloroform has the uncanny ability to not only knock someone out for an extended period of time, but also wipe out their short term memory. He should be so lucky. Other contracts in our line of business would have offed him in a heartbeat to avoid the possibility of a witness. But, my third rule in a hit: Hit ONLY the target… nothing or no one else.
Thirty eight hits and six years later… I was receiving a call that the Lei job was complete. Meaning I could pop the cork, light up my cigar, and call our client and relay the message of a job well done.
Or so we thought…
A/N: So… you know the drill right? Read… Review… So… Go review: )
