Story Note: AU. This is a prologue, obviously. Maka and Soul are not in this chapter, as it is focused on our main bounty-star. (Soul and Maka are in the next chapter, the official chapter 1).

Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater or any characters mentioned.

Noches de Polvo
Prologue: Wolfman's Past
by. xxBurningxx

Somewhere in the distance, Wolfman can hear horse hooves approaching. His ears twitch towards the sound, urging him to work faster. He grunts as he pulls the corpse's body across gravel and dirt, quickly casting his eyes around in search of any large cacti or rocks that he could hide behind. His eyes are met with only scraggly bushes and a few patches of grass. The dusty road isn't too far off, and the steed's clomping hooves are growing closer with each passing second; Wolfman's time is running short, it would seem.

"Damn," he whispers, cursing the lifeless corpse. If it weren't for the crimson liquid that dirties his hands, he could play dumb; act as if he was just a traveler. It's worked before, but only for cleaner kills, where blood wasn't splayed across his shirt; when red wasn't staining his skin.

It's either fight or flight, and right now, flight is in favor. Wolfman abandons the body, hoping that the small rocks and shrubs will be enough to cover the evidence until he's out of the area. He whistles, calling for his horse whom is nibbling on the almost non-existent greenery. The brown mammal swiftly responds, trotting up to him. Hopping onto his trusty steed, Wolfman flees in the direction of the original threat.

At a constant speed, Wolfman catches a glimpse of the individual whom had been the cause for his rushing. He keeps himself hunched over in an attempt to hide the red on his coat, praying the vicious glaring sun will help him by blinding the officer.

A rush of wind ruffles his clothes as the other horse races past him.

He realizes only after they've passed each other that it's a woman. He almost laughs, because if he had know this piece of information before hand, he wouldn't have bothered in fleeing. But it's too late now and he needs to get moving before the posse discovers the corpse of Frank Yuney, the bastard who doesn't know when to scoff up the cash when it's due.

With that, Wolfman rides onwards, the unforgiving sun beating down on his skin, causing the blood to crust on his hands in a manner that is similar to the way mud dries.

"Heh," he muses to himself, ignoring the dust clouds flying in his face, "The famous No-Future is at work again, at last..."

And it almost seems as if the sun is laughing along with him.

His career is a result of a bad childhood.

And the one woman who could have possibly changed his destiny is long gone now. Murderer Wolfman, also known as No-Future, has been raised with abusive parents. No matter how many times he had tried to please them, they would always scream at him. Hit him. Punch him. Kick him. Whatever it takes to cause him pain. Sometimes, he wonders why they even agreed to have a kid. Later, he had decided that it was because they needed someone to torture; a ragdoll of sorts.

At the age of 12, Wolfman discovers his father's closet of guns. While his dad was off drunk at the pub, and his mother was gone (cheating, most likely, or selling her body for money), Wolfman spends his time with the one person who didn't see him as trash.

Eruka "Frog." She's the only person besides his parents who know his real name: Free.

Daughter of the local gun-range's owner, she teaches him how to handle pistols; how to fire like any good gunslinger. At first she had been nervous, and he's a bit ashamed to admit he had kinda bullied her into teaching him, but in the end it was fine. The more time they spend together, the closer and more comfortable they get. They were the best of friends.

She even stands up for him when his drunken father had discovered him at the gun-range, enraged and furious.

"YOU LITTLE PIECE OF-'OW DARE YOU 'AKE MY GU-!" His father had pulled a knife, and was about to lunge at Wolfman when things took a turn for what he assumed was the better.

Wolfman had stared in awe and shock, as his best friend stood there, with a pistol pressed against his father's head. He had almost told her to shoot him when his drunken father dropped the knife and retreated slowly.

"Don' expect...supper whe' you 'et home tonigh'..." His voice was slurred as he backed out of the swinging doors, the most horrid expression on his face. The anger and fire was present in his eyes.

That day, Wolfman had realized that Eruka really was there for him. And with that in mind, things might be okay. But Wolfman isn't the brightest, but he knows the difference between reality and wishful thinking, and he knows that things probably won't be okay in the long-run. He doesn't know it then, but he couldn't be any closer to the truth.

But she would always be there for him. Eruka will always back him up. Or at least, that's what he thought.

The first person he murdered was his father. He's 17 when something within him snaps, like a twig underneath boots. With the tip of a pistol pointed to his father's head, like so many years ago, the only difference is the fact that this time, the trigger is pulled. And no one's there to hear the gunshot.

"You did what?"

He has to tell her, he's told her everything before, and keeping secrets from Eruka was like cutting off his own fingers. Her expression isn't shocked, if anything, it held awe. But she knew the consequences of murder, and the idea of her best friend being hanged settled within her a distant panic in her chest.

"I...Eruka, I have to leave. I'll buy a horse...Leave the town, I'll just keep following the road until I'm far away," he tells her.

"But, Free...You can't leave. But," she can't bear the thought of him gone for good.

"Come with me, Frog. We can go together. We'll leave tonight! Think about it, we'll be free to do whatever we want." Nostalgia hits her when he calls her by her old nickname. She's silent as she casts her eyes to the ground.

"I-I can't." She can barely push the words past her lips. Her throat is tight and her can feel emotions welling inside of her.

"What?" He asks in disbelief. He was almost positive that she'd agree.

"Free, I have a family, that actually loves me. I can't...Just leave like that. I wish I could but-"

"I understand." His voice is monotone, but she can tell it's a sign of anger, and it instantly fills Eruka with guilt. He's about to turn around when she embraces him a tight hug. She half-expects him to push her away, relief washes over her when he doesn't.

She places a chaste kiss on his cheek before whispering, "Go. Do what you need to do, start a new life somewhere. I'll play dumb, I'll make sure they won't find out it's you. I really...I'd go, please Free, you understand why I can't come...Good luck..."

Wolfman doesn't realize that he has to blink back tears. He holds her tight, finally whispering, "Alright..."

She feels a piece of herself breaking away when Free exits the room.

"Goodbye...friend..."

It's possible that Wolfman wouldn't be where he was now had Eruka agreed to go with him. Perhaps, if she'd come, he'd be in a nice house somewhere, with a well-going ranch, a wife even. Maybe he wouldn't be known as a murderer.

He wouldn't be traveling down a dusty road, on his way to the next town to kill someone for the paper in their pockets.

But fate never was on his side...And there's no turning back.

22 murders and still counting...Wolfman pats his trench coat to rid it of dirt before entering the local bar of the newest town.

He realizes with a sickening twist in his gut that he's screwed. He won't be able to show his face in many towns anymore. Because the posse have caught drift of his actions. Any other time, it wouldn't have been a big deal, but now they have his name and face, and his picture is plastered on walls all around. There's a bounty on his head. $13,000. They really want him captured...Or dead.

He bows his head at the bar, orders a shot of whiskey, and sighs as he runs a hand through his short-cut hair.

Sometimes, he wonders if it's really worth it...

A/N: Yes. So this is the prologue for my newest story, Noches de Polvo, which is supposed to mean 'Nights of Dust'...Although my Spanish sucks, so...I apologize if it says something stupid and not related to dust...or nights...

Edit*: Yes, so, I realize that this is a pretty horrible prologue. I feel that the following chapters (the ones with an actual plot) are much better. I'm gonna sound like a whiny begging fangirl, but please, read onwards to the official chapter 1 and such.

Anyways, yes, I know that this is really short, but it's a just a little background info on our star-bounty, whom is Free! I just wanted to establish the fact that he's not the cold and heartless murderer that everyone thinks he is, and that he's really just a heart-broken and on bad terms with 'fate'.

And come on, I know this isn't too exciting right now, but I promise, there shall be SOMA! Later. I promise, this will get better and more interesting! There will be SoMa fluff, I swear. Hell, there might even be a lime towards the end. You'll just have to wait and see what I do with this. Again. I swear on River Styx that this shall get better! And chapters will be longer than...What, 1000 words? I'm hoping that they'll be 2000-3000...I hope.

Yeah, so this is my first story that's going to be multi-chap and actually a connected story. And you shouldn't worry about me giving up on you guys...I feel quite dedicated to this. It has a plot. Next chapter should be much longer and will focus mainly on Maka discovering the bounty, and Soul needing money, blah blah blah. And it's set more when women have a little more rights to stuff like...being a constable or being at a gun range...I dunno. Even if that denies the history of the setting, oh well. I don't care.

Oh, and I apologize for any grammar errors or anything like that. I revised it, but I don't have spell check, so I'm not promising anything.

Expect an update in a couple of days. Hope you like it so far!