Looking over what I've written for Memories of a Nobody I have come to the ultimate conclusion that... the story isn't all that great. The writing is fine and there are a few grammatical errors, ones that I had overlooked during the editing process, but then I realized I hadn't planned it out all that much.

Or rather, the information was all in my head.

So now I'm doing a major re-haul of it now instead of about, say, twenty chapters later.

I am tempted to switch to third pov, but I think I've gotten a grip on how to write in first so I'll continue the story that way.

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of the compilation. I do, however, own the OCs Isabelle Maxwell and Rosalyn Maxwell.

Assassin

I guess I should tell you a little about myself.

My name is Isabelle Maxwell and I'm an assassin.

Just hear me out before you start panicking, alright? I may go around killing people and breaking the law, but at the very least I'm not a psychopath.

Trust me on this when I say that psychopaths are not people you want to go up against. Not unless you're certain that they won't be able to sweet talk you into doing whatever they want and that you have a powerful weapon on your person to kill them with when things begin to get ugly.

But back to the story.

At a very young age I learned some of life's cruelest and harshest lessons.

I learned that everything you loved and valued could be taken away from you within the span of a moment and that life was a very fragile thing.

When I was five years old, my parents were killed in a house fire. At least that was what they told me then. I eventually discovered that the fire wasn't accidental at all. It was a cover up for two other crimes; the murders of two out of three people I had ever loved.

With our parents gone, our home reduced to burnt rubble and no immediate relatives to take us in and give us a new home, my older sister Rosalyn and I were sent to an orphanage to live out the remainders of our childhood there.

Living in that orphanage had been a scarring experience, but considering how the rest of my life would go... it wasn't all that bad. The rules there was pretty much every person for themselves and the stronger and older ones who had lived in the orphanage longer than the other kids were usually the ones who came out on top.

The adults who ran the place weren't bad people and did their best to look after the children who lived there but they were understaffed, overworked, and had limited funds to work with. If that wasn't bad enough, it seemed that new kids kept coming in every week. So as it was, the staff didn't have the resources or time to make sure that everyone was playing nice and that the new kid wasn't being traumatized by the ones who seemed to think that making their life miserable was an initiation process.

I should know. I had been on the receiving end of that misery.

But compared to how my life would play out after that? The orphanage was practically a Hawaiian vacation.

It was thanks to my older sister Rosalyn that the other kids soon left me alone. When we had arrived at our temporary home, she soon became the oldest child living there and therefore the one who maintained the most authority among the kids. It didn't take her long to figure out what was going on, but when she did she made it very clear that she wouldn't tolerate the bullying or anyone picking on me. And that anyone who said otherwise would have to answer to her.

After our parents untimely deaths, I depended on my sister for everything.

I couldn't have imagined what it was like for her then. On top of losing our home, our parents, and handling her grief, she also had to do her best to look after me as well. A bratty five year old self who didn't understand that she couldn't see her parents any more or that the reason we had to move into an over crowded house full of mean and noisy children was because we no longer had a home.

I didn't understand a lot of things back then and the discovery of my ignorance as I got older disgusted me. Had I really been that much of an ungrateful pest? My sister was a saint for putting up with me.

Rosalyn was an incredibly strong person to have been able to endure all that. Unfortunately, I didn't discover this fact until long after her disappearance.

Among other things.

Four years after my sister and I were orphaned, my life took another drastic turn.

When she was eighteen years old, Rosalyn Maxwell vanished without a trace. One day she was there, saying good bye as she went out to her full-time job so that she could earn money to support herself and her kid sister and the next... she was gone.

No indication that she had been forcefully kidnapped or killed... just gone.

The police did their best to look into her disappearance, leaving no stone untouched in their search for her. But no matter how much they looked they couldn't come up with anything. Eventually, as months passed, the police had no choice but to grimly drop the investigation and mark the case as being unsolved until any evidence or clues turned up saying other wise.

And at the age of nine, I understood perfectly what I failed to when I was five. That my only remaining family... wasn't there any more. I was completely and utterly on my own with no older sister to shield me from the world this time just like when are parents were killed.

Life wasn't through with me then. Unfortunately or fortunately... it all depends on how you looked at it, but if you want my opinion it would have been in the 'unfortunately' category.

A few months later after the fact that the world was a cold, unforgiving, uncompromising place was burned permanently into my mind the orphanage was paid a visit by two people I soon learned very fast to hate.

A man and a woman who claimed that they had known my father came to the place and said that they wanted to adopt me and raise me in place of their deceased friend. They had recently learned that Luke Maxwell had been killed years ago and had been greatly saddened by the news. Since then, they had been trying to track down me and my sister so that they could offer us their home and give us a stable lifestyle.

After filling out several papers and going through procedures, they became my legal guardians and took me to where they lived.

The couple knew my dad alright. What they purposely omitted to me and the orphanage caretakers was that they were his associates back when he was still an assassin. And that the only reason the couple adopted me (and my sister had she not been missing) was because they thought that we had potential.

Potential to become a deadly killer of un-parallel strength like my ancestors before me.

Potential to become an assassin like my lineage dictated. Just like my dad before he had met mom.

My so-called legal guardians gave me two choices: either train as an assassin under them and do what they said or I could meet the same fate as my parents.

Like any nine year old who would have been half frightened out of their minds in my situation like I was, I picked the first choice without considering the consequences they would later have in the future. My only thought then was to ensure my survival... even if it meant at the cost of others.

I rose to their expectations of potential as they described it and then surpassed even that. I figured out that they were training me so that they could use me for their own gain, but only too a certain point so that they could control me.

I guess I became too powerful and deadly because one day they tried to kill me before I could turn on them. Ironically, that decision turned out to be their undoing as I ended up killing them instead. I had contemplated the idea for a long time, but it wasn't until their attempt to do me in that I actually acted on it.

Unfortunately by that time, the time that I had freed myself from their control, it was too late to escape the life of an assassin. So isolated I was from other people that my socialization skills were non-existent. So carefully trained that the only thing I knew was how to kill people. So tainted in blood that in society's eyes, I was nothing but a criminal.

Even if I had tried to return to a life of normalcy, before everything, I wouldn't have known what to do.

But then again, some lives weren't meant for normalcy.

Something I learned when the once ruling god of the legendary Virtus dropped me into the world of Gaia.

Heh, heh, done! Took me all of yesterday and I had to do some editing this morning until I was satisfied.

This was what I originally intended for Isabelle to be from the beginning... but since the amnesia factor wasn't really working out that great, I decided to go with this.

This is just the prologue, but when I get to the first chapter I'll be dropping the character right into the action of Gongaga.