Don't worry, I plan on finishing The Shakedown soon.

This, on the other hand, is a small idea that has been rolling around in my head for a while. This is gonna be a long story. Updates will be sporadic at first, and I hope to get into a groove. Need to build up discipline and all that.

As always, read and review. And enjoy! God bless, and have a good day.

Prologue One: Who Are You?

He was a rough looking boy. Dirt in his fur, filthy clothes.

The boy was leaning against the brick wall of the ally way where he had chased off some ruffians to save the youth. And judging from that piercing and fiery gaze he had in his amber eyes, the youth was wholly ungrateful. He looked about sixteen, a young fox, with dirty blond fur. His arms were crossed, his jaw was set, and he was doing his best to look intimidating.

He was unimpressed. Nothing intimidated you when you were broken.

"Who the hell'er you?" the boy asked, his voice as rough as his appearance.

"Just a drifter," he mumbled, looking the boy dead in the eye.

"Well, I didn't need the help of no drifter to beat those punks! Why the hell-"

"You were outnumbered," he calmly interrupted. "And one of them pulled a knife. You would have been held down and stabbed. Repeatedly."

"Yeah, well!...well..." The boy was at a loss for words. His ears drooped, and he could see him begin to grind his teeth together. Frustration. Frustration at being wrong.

The boy yelled and kicked the wall as hard he could. He raised an eyebrow as the youth immediately regretted his decision, holding his foot in pain, but only for a few moments. He started to bang his fists into the wall, cursing as he did so. A temper tantrum. He supposed there was something pathetic about a young man having a tantrum, but he politely stayed quiet as the boy began to yell.

"Fucking damn it! This always happens! I always see how weak I am. I always see how far away I am...how far away...shit..."

He picked it up. The sound of sniffling. The boy was crying. And within his bosom he felt the faint feeling of sympathy well up, like a warm and pleasant scent drifting through a room. He was actually surprised that he was capable of this feeling.

He thought he had been successful in killing off his feelings this time. Seems he was wrong.

"Far away from what?" he asked, his voice low and methodical.

The youth stared at him, tears in his eyes partnered with a look of self-loathing. He sniffed once.

"Why do you care?" he asked, sounding miserable.

"Call it curiosity."

"Go to hell."

"Already there," he replied hollowly.

The youth looked back at him, surprised at his answer. At How utterly certain he sounded.

Sometimes, that scared him too. Not much anymore, though.

The youth looked down for a moment, swallowed, then looked up. "You have no idea what hell's like."

"I most certainly do."

There must have been something about how easy that reply slipped out of his mouth, because the youth exploded.

"How!? How could you possibly know!? I have nothing besides my dream. No parents, just myself and longing!" He slammed his fist down on his chest, the fiery look in his eyes growing by the second. "The only thing I want in this world, the one thing I want the most..."

"Is what?"

Now he was curious.

"...I want to go to space," the youth whispered, lowering his head.

He raised an eyebrow.

"That's it?"

With utter disbelief in his eyes, the youth stared at him for a full minute. Then he sneered at him.

"What...what the fuck do you mean, 'That's it'? Space is my one escape from this planet. From my life! I want to be a pilot, I want to be free! Surely there is nothing else like being out there, with nothing but endless space out in all directions!"

He bowed his head, feeling a wave of horrible memories wash over his mind.

"Space...will not save you from pain. It may only magnify it. Make it worse. Introduce you to new pain and suffering."

The youth stared at him, his determined look not wavering for a second. He shook his head.

"I don't care. Any place is better than this city. One day, I'm gonna be free. And whoever get's in my way is gonna have hell to pay." The boy started to walk away.

He didn't know why he grabbed the boy's arm before he could leave. Maybe would never know why. All he knew is that here...possibly...

He could do some good in the world. Without having to kill anyone. Without having to hurt anyone.

Without having to push anyone away, and ruin a life.

"What are you-" The youth began.

"How would you like me to take you into space?"

He almost laughed when the youth's eyes grew impossibly big and when his jaw dropped.

"What the hell do you mean?"

"I have a ship, and I can take you into space. Simple as that."

Still the youth looked on in disbelief. Though, he could see within his eyes arise the beautiful glimmer that was...hope.

How he had longed to see that again, in anybody's eyes.

"...don't fucking lie to me," the boy murmured dangerously.

"I'm not."

Slowly but surely, any traces of hostility vanished from the boy. Now he regarded him curiously, with the glimmer of hope becoming brighter.

"Why would you do this?" he whispered "What's the catch. Who are you?"

He sighed. His name. He had grown to hate it, out of loathing. Out of the memories it brought back. Out of the mistakes it was associated with. One mistake in particular.

"...Just call me 'F'." he said quietly.

"That sounds suspicious," the youth grumbled, taking his arm out of his grip. He crossed both of his arms again and leaned against the alleyway's brick wall, trying once again to look intimidating. Just like last time, it wasn't working.

"Do you want to go to space, or not?"

The youth blinked, and suddenly the glimmer in his eyes was back again. He wanted, oh so much, to believe. He could tell.

"..yes." he murmured. The boy's tone was low and reverent.

"What's your name, kid?" he asked, smiling a sad smile. He wanted the boy to trust him. He wanted...he wanted to help someone. Wanted to do something with the broken body and mind he now found himself with.

After a moment, the boy stated his name firmly, looking right into his eyes. Within those eyes the flames of hope sparked mightily, along with a determination that impressed even him.

"Marcus."