New Story! :D

Aren't we excited...?

Don't hate me... please?

I can't help it... the others are being updated, but I just got off of grounding so I couldn't work on the others, and I just had a notebook to scribble ideas in...and then this story was born!

Give special thanks to the song Russian Roulette by Rihanna :) Good stuff

Summary: It's easy to have everything when the world is at your fingertips. This Axel has learned the nice way as the head of the most influential and feared mob group that has struck the western hemisphere. He plays his games and wins every single time with ease. Of course, for every good villain there has to be a good cop to just spoil things, isn't there? The only thing standing in Axel's way of controlling the strongest drug and weapons trafficking system in the black market is Detective Roxas Strife, head of the crime unit that has dedicated its funds to bringing the mob down once and for all. He is smart, dedicated, and determined to bring Axel down if it's the last thing he ever does. It is a bitter battle between good and evil, right and wrong as two polar opposite people fight against each other in a battle of wits, chance, and passion. Eventual AkuRoku, dark, M for violence and lemons :3

Multiple pairings on the side,definitely not the main points like Axel and Roxas will be.

This is going to be a dark kind of fanfic, ok? Don't like, don't read... but I would like it better if you liked it :)

Reviews make me want to write...

Disclaimer: Not mine :( Sad days...

Enjoy :)

He was marked for death.

He was surrounded by women on all sides, laughter and champagne flowing freely as music lightly played in the background and food was served. He was eating at the luxury restaurant in Twilight Town, The Clock Tower, an honor since it was in his name that dinner was made. He was unknowing of his fate.

He was unknowing that he was even marked, but it did not matter. It didn't matter that he was a wealthy, independent man who had built his business from the ground up and had reached the millionaire state by the age of 38. It didn't matter that as a Christmas gift he had given to every charity in Twilight Town. It didn't matter that he was going to propose to the love of his life after dinner when he was right outside her house, asking her to marry him on the stroke of midnight. It didn't matter that he was going to visit his parents for the holidays and that he was going to be to his new nephew's christening in two weeks.

He needed to cancel his plans.

He wasn't going anywhere after tonight.

"So how do you think that your business is going to progress now that the economy is so bad?" His close friend and confidant raised an eyebrow and sipped from his wine glass slowly, savoring the flavor.

"It's at a standstill with things since we don't want to waste money on imports that won't sell. We're definitely trying to wait to see if things pick up, but if they don't we're going to have to downsize; I'm not going to lie." Zack Fair replied as he shrugged off a desperate model's arm and leaned forward, eyes intent.

"Things will get better." His friend consoled him soothingly, giving the model a slightly apologetic glance at Zack's lack of interest in her. He knew that it was stupid to let her sit with them, but how could he say no when she turned pleading eyes on him? Cloud wasn't good with saying no to innocent girls.

"Yeah, things will get better, Zack." She agreed, looking up at him with wide, doe-like eyes. Hardly glancing at her, Zack nodded distractedly, giving Cloud a very pointed look. Cloud nodded and leaned in as well. Sliding his finger along his ear, Zack coughed discreetly and looked the other way, a sign that they needed to talk without her listening.

"Hey, Yvonne… how about you go and hang out with the rest of the party goers?" Cloud suggested nicely, nodding to where the party group was seated around a large wrap around table, talking animatedly. Indignant and just a little embarrassed, the girl stood up and gave them both an annoyed glance before walking away. Zack hardly noticed though, glancing around now to make sure no one was listening.

"I feel bad for her." Cloud muttered to himself.

"Why'd you invite her anyway?" Zack asked.

"She's influential if you learned how to work the social circle as well as the business one."

"That's not my main concern… I've got problems with the business… why worry about my social life? I'm going down… percent rates dropping…" Zack shook his head and ran his fingers through his thick hair, his fingers trembling slightly. He had worked to where he'd gotten, and the idea of things falling apart because someone else was stupid made his blood boil.

"How down would you go now that you've hit the top?" Cloud asked quietly.

"Farther than I am now, probably." Zack replied, nodding to where the waiter was beginning to head their way with a new bottle of wine. Reaching them, he immediately refilled Cloud's glass and then turned to Zack with a raised eyebrow, silently asking if he wanted more bourbon.

"I'm fine." Zack turned away from the expectant worker, worried eyes trained on his best friend. When they were younger they'd served together as soldiers in the military for four years, stationed together and covering each other's back until they'd been released from their contracts. That kind of friendship didn't fade, no matter the consequences and no matter the situation.

"And how did… the last import go?" Cloud whispered, waving the waiter away with a flick of his wrist. Leaving them, the waiter gave them a backwards glance, a frown on his face at the sudden rudeness he'd been faced with. Usually the two of them were good at being very friendly and open but tonight… they seemed edgy.

"The last import was our very first import with them… I suspect it went well… but how should I know? I haven't gotten a call saying that the whole transaction was finished with. They could have been found out and I wouldn't be aware of it unless I was shot." Cloud frowned at that and glanced around the restaurant with short, sweeping motions that showed his training from the military.

"Are you worried that something slipped up?" He took account of each of the different people visible, shifting his chair slightly to the side so that his back faced a wall. Cloud took account of the large glass window that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, giving away their position to any person on the third floor of any surrounding buildings on that side.

"I'm not sure… I knew it was a bad idea to get involved with them… but their boss sent a man… said he could help me with my financial problems. Did I do the right thing?" Zack frowned and saw his friend's movements, glancing around to see what had gotten Cloud so worried. Seeing nothing he took a long drink of his bourbon and sighed softly.

"Too late to fix it anyway. Maybe I should try to talk to him myself?"

"Let him come to you just in case something went wrong; you don't want to give the impression that you're a people pleaser." Cloud felt his neck prickling uncomfortably, but he couldn't find the itch. Everyone around them was acting perfectly normal, eating and enjoying their evening like any other average day.

Their was a moment of silence, the old friends taking in the person before them and trying to figure them out. They both knew that the other would die for them, but at what cost?

"What is the value of a life, Cloud?" Zack asked after a few minutes had passed. His voice was slightly raw and hoarse.

"A life is as useful as the usefulness of the person." Cloud replied easily.

"And am I… useful?" He asked in return, oddly hesitant, but Cloud didn't miss a beat.

"Of course you are. It's going to be fine. You brought in the shipments needed, now you just need to hear back. It's been about a week or so since then, but they're probably weighting if it was a clean run, that's all. You don't plan on doing this all the time... it was just to pay off the debts." Cloud wasn't much of a talker, but just seeing his best friend torn up about what might happen was going to make a preacher of him yet.

"Of course… and I'm not yet done living."

The crosshairs were right on the hit, waiting for the order.

The building was two stories higher than necessary, the roof was patched up and a little awkward to maneuver around, and the rock that the rifle was perched on kept moving with each gust of wind but the assassin made sure to keep a cool, detached expression as he worked. It didn't matter that he didn't want to work another hit. It didn't matter that his girlfriend had gotten pregnant and now he had to get his stuff and leave before she could try to reel him in as a "father figure". It didn't matter that he had the flu and could hardly breathe through his nose, either.

The boss-man was riding in on this hit. Any mistake would be his last one.

"Have you worked clean sweeps like this before?" The voice behind him was smooth and self-assured, arrogance and confidence blending with one another. The assassin adjusted the wind-dial on his scope, taking in the slight west wind that was blowing lightly but constantly.

"Yes, sir." He kept his voice low and his breathing basically non-existent, not wanting to upset his sight on the target. He wasn't exactly sure why the boss-man was going in on the hit with him since he was a senior worker, but it wasn't like he would complain. Though the boss-man didn't do runs, he was just as deadly as his top assassins. You didn't question him unless you had nothing to lose.

"Just wait for my signal." There was the subtle smell of cigarette smoke, and the assassin cringed inwardly. The light at the end of the cigarette would surely give them away if someone truly cared to look for these kinds of things.

"Sir… why are we taking him out? The shipment went through… we just don't have to use him again. No contact with him will make him edgy, and people who are scared often don't talk when it's circumstances like this." The voice of one of boss-man's main men came through, soft and monotone, and there was the gentle, mocking laughter that followed it.

"Questioning Axel, Zexion? He knows what he's doing. He lays his cards right." Another one of his men shuffled a deck of cards, the soft whooshing noise grating on the assassin's nerved, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Being around so many people nonchalant about a hit was really making him edgy, but he had to concentrate. One of those people could possibly end his life if he screwed up, so he buttoned his lips and made sure that the silencer was on the end of the barrel and that the small cover he'd brought was still covering the glint of the steel.

"I was merely suggesting that-"

"The hit's got friends in good places. We don't have time to mess around with something that'll bite us in the ass later, Zex; the stakes aren't right if you've got honest cops digging into dishonest business." There was the sound of cards shuffling again, and then the smell of smoke wafted across the breeze.

"Easy boys, don't upset the job at hand." His tone was light and cool, but there was a hint of warning underneath it that immediately ended the discussion. The assassin pursed his lips together and cleared his throat of the sickness so that he could speak.

"Sir, when do you want me to land the hit?" He asked softly, not wanting to breathe or move too hard.

"When you can see the whites of their eyes." Was the dry, sly remark. Unsure as to whether or not he should respond, the assassin adjusted the butt of the the rifle against his shoulder and kept his finger poised to the side, waiting for the opportune moment.

The silence drifted over them, and the assassin's nerves were strung tight. He could feel the wind blowing gently against him, and he could feel every grain of rock from the roof. He could feel the pressure of his clothing and the lack of air in his lungs. Still, he didn't move, waiting for the command of the person behind him that had dropped the cigarette to the ground and with the hiss of a match, lit a new one.

"Do you know the percentage rate for good cops versus bad cops?" Boss-man asked in his smooth, slick voice, breaking the silence.

"For every 1 good cop there are 3 bad cops, sir." The monotone, uncaring voice responded immediately.

"So there's a 25% chance in this town of having honest cops than dirty ones." He wasn't clarifying the fact; it was apparent in his tone that he already knew that. "And you could assume that it's the same with the work force…those who are loyal to the city and the people… and those that are loyal to themselves." The smell of smoke drifted over the assassin's face, and he resisted the urge to cough.

"You asked, Zexion, why we're taking the hit. Your logic is valid with the idea of fear, however; it went a little too smoothly, if you can understand what I'm saying." There was a smug superiority in his tones, and the assassin focused intently on the shock of dark hair that was his mark. Across from him, a light haired businessman listened with a somber expression, his face clear through the scope like he was standing 5 feet away.

"There is usually a problem or so." The man named Zexion didn't phrase it as a question.

"Some sort of problem that is smoothed over easily… but there was nothing to smooth. Honest men do honest things… and when faced with a dishonest thing… they passively push it aside to deal with it the honest way." The scent of cigarettes drew closer, and the assassin forced himself not to gag.

"Someone reported this to the police." Again, it wasn't a question from the man named Zexion.

"Yes, and to none other than our dearest friend, Detective Roxas Strife. It was a carrier man. A hard working labor man." There was a breath of laughter at that, and the deck of cards was shuffled again.

"What can he do? There is no proof. He can't tie this to you."

"Dear Detective Strife cannot do a thing… once again his hands are tied, the poor man… but there has to be some sort of punishment for being an honest man and turning us in."

"But the target-"

"He is not the problem… he is honest, but scared… but the hit will subtly show everyone who has some semblance of decency what happens when things start to get a little too honest. Seeing his boss killed will certainly ensure that no one else opens their pretty little mouths." His tone suddenly turned very cold and official, and there was a soft crunch of gravel as he stepped closer to the edge.

"Are you ready?" The smooth, arrogant voice made the assassin's blood run cold.

"Ready when you are, sir." He replied with a slight whisper in his voice.

"Kill him." Axel whispered. "Kill him, now."

"We need to leave." Cloud felt his nerves start to get too jumpy.

"What's wrong?" Zack stood up a little, rising to his feet as Cloud lifted his hand to wave the waiter over for the check.

"I've got a bad feeling. We need to leave." Cloud couldn't see exactly what the danger was, but his blood was starting to rush, and his pulse felt a bit too unsteady for things to be alright.

"Is it what I said? I'm just a little nervous, Cloud, it's going to be ok." Zack frowned at the calm, dead expression that was growing on his old friend's face, and with a slightly pounding heart he pulled out his wallet.

"You really think so?" Cloud asked as he looked around the room jerkily.

"What's gotten into you…? Aren't I usually the paranoid one?" Zack attempted to joke, but just seeing the tense grip Cloud had on his wallet made Zack feel the desire to leave just as fast as his friend was attempting to.

"Let's just go… ok? Don't you need to get to Aerith?"

"Well, yes, but I was going to propose at midnight… I've got time."

"He's moving, sir." The assassin's heart jumped as his hit moved and began to stand up. His friend looked jumpy, waving a hand and leaning over to face his friend urgently. Did he know? The assassin felt his blood run icy.

"So stop him." There was the shuffle of cards, and the smell of smoke. Moving the crosshairs immediately towards the man's head, the assassin lined things up again and exhaled slowly, his finger calmly moving towards the trigger and curling around the small object that could do so much damage. The man was moving still, his head jerking slightly as the other man continued talking.

"Shoot him. Now."

Holding his breath the assassin calmly squeezed the trigger, right eye lined on the prize, waiting for the smell of gunfire, the small popping noise, and then the screams that would follow.

He was surprised when the rifle fired.

"Zack, let's just bring the limo up, ok?" Cloud felt anxious, his blood pumping and his hands jittery with the desire to hold a weapon for security, but what could he hold? There was nothing to help him, to calm him down.

"Look, I'm going to be alri-" There was the sound of breaking glass, and then Zack staggered to the side, a hand flying to his head. People began to murmur as waiters rushed to see what had happened, and a lady began to complain about glass in her food. Cloud didn't see this though, nor did he see the people who were trying to find the source of the glass. He didn't see the lady picking glass out of her food, nor did he see the manager appearing from nowhere to help.

All he saw was red.

Everything seemed to slow down. Zack, catching himself on the table, crumpled to his knees, his eyes wide and his lips parted as a small, thin line of blood fell from his lips. Blindly looking up, he saw Cloud and a small, barely existent smile formed on his lips as he grappled at the table to keep from collapsing on the floor. Blood seeped from his head down to his collar, collecting on the starched white shirt and staining things crimson as Cloud automatically moved to catch his friend, leading him to the ground slowly and staring into his blank, fading eyes. Something cold and black was building inside of him, and a lump formed in his throat as he stared unseeingly, the red washing around him.

"Zack-"

"I'm… sorry…" The words hardly made it past his lips as he reached up with a surprisingly strong grip and pulled Cloud closer. Tears pricked Cloud's eyes at the scene, and his hands were shaking wildly. With wide eyes and stare of disbelief Zack looked up and then smiled again, a solemn, bitter smile.

And then he was still.

Cloud couldn't think. He couldn't feel, he couldn't breathe. His heart was racing beneath his chest, beating a drum into his ribcage, and he could hardly get the words out.

"Help… somebody…" He couldn't force his voice above a whisper, and he clutched his best friend tightly as somebody turned to see the commotion and noticed the blood.

A scream of horror pierced the air and then everyone turned to see Cloud holding the most influential man in Twilight Town with a bullet in his head.

"Confirmed kill, sir." The assassin pulled his rifle back and immediately began disassembling it, frowning as he unwound and unscrewed the different pieces. Axel watched his movement slowly, taking in the precise way that he worked, and feeling disgust wash through him.

"He is dead." It wasn't a question, though his worker paused like he was going to answer it. Idiot. Axel let a stream of smoke pass through his lips.

"You're sure this will silence everyone?" The cards shuffled again and Luxord looked over as Axel breathed in his favorite cigarettes and exhaled the smoke.

"It will show our dearest Detective Roxas Strife what happens when he entertains the notions of poor labor-men." Axel grinned to his main men and nodded towards the assassin that was laughing along with them, like he was one of them. The assassin zipped his tools up into his small duffle bag he felt a little glow of pride. He was surrounded by the most influential men of his job, and they were acting like it was ok to joke around him. Maybe he'd move up the ladder for this?

"Poor detective." Came the somber reply from the card shuffler.

"He really is... I often feel bad that he's dedicated so much of his time to try to bring me to justice." Axel grinned as Zexion gave him a vaguely amused look.

"What if one day he catches you?" The assassin asked, silencing everyone with his words. Axel raised an eyebrow and looked at Zexion, lips pursed into a smirk.

"Are you ready, sir?" Zexion asked him. Looking down at the still not finished assassin, Axel nodded and pulled his wool coat tighter to his body, feeling the chill begin to creep in. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a long, thin revolver and took careful aim, positioning the crosshairs right at the base of the man's skull.

He'd be dead before he could blink.

"You're a poor shot. He was alive enough to say something. Something like a name. Mistakes in my workforce are taken care of quickly." He informed his employee before he calmly squeezed the trigger and watched as the man hit the rooftop with a dull thud, no sound emmitting from his lips.

Turning around he hardly gave Zexion and Luxord a glance before handing Zexion the revolver to clean up, stepping down the ladder and quickly descending into the small supply closet and leaving by the back door where a car was waiting for him.

No one made a mistake in front of the boss-man and lived to tell about it.

Hit or miss? Let me know in a reivew! :)

I'm kind of nervous about this... it's dark and mean and violent... and I don't know how people will like it :/ so please review and let me know!

And you'll meet Detective Roxas Strife Soon :D

If I get enough good feedback I'll update sometime next week!

Until then!