Author's Note* WARNING! this here fic contains some death of characters essential to the plot, So if you don't like, DON'T READ Anywho, enjoy the first chapt.- my first fic! yay!**

January 3, 1896

A young boy of fifteen sat patiently on the damp cornerstone, LOWZ STREET. 14 AVE. the many signs read as he stared aimlessly down the cold brick roads, containing little life. A few more moments passed, seeming like dull hours when suddenly across from him in the view of a lonely street light, some tavern doors flew open; releasing its load of laughter and drunken men unto the cruel streets that were London. From the back of that group, a man in black overcoat and many scars little his pipe, seeming to be the only one of the group who had not become completely stoned after a few drinks. He was after all, very well suited when it came to rationing his beer.

"Let's go Roxas."

The wind delivered the sound of his name, and in a matter of moment the boy stood side by side with his elder, a silken cap drown tight around his head as the rain began to fall. Such a cold litless rain, humming onto the streets as excess water sunk into the drains. Sprinkles of water lashed out and around both their feet a roaring coach and horses yielded to a steady trot and haulted before them.

Chapter one: The Telegram

"Who in heaven sends telegrams in the middle of the night?"

A fustrated man in a scarlet master's chair glared angrily at the hands of a grandfather clock, the hour clearly reading to be half past one. IN. THE. MORNING. He growled as someone close leaned on the back of his threshold, growling with him. Neither of them noticed, but a rat with cheese ran quickly aross the floor board behind them.

"Well, It must be pretty dang urgent, because they sent the same thing like, 5 times within the last 8 minutes. Prob'ly just that Namine' chick huntin' for Roxas. That dame sure knows how to stalk someone….must just be me huh? Eh, I gotta go anyways." The blonde dropped the envelope unto a side table and turned to leave, footfalls causing a creaking echo beneath the deteriorizing wood floors of Randsom Manison, so deteroized to the fact the floor was almost green with neglect. It was an old house, but an even more forsaken one as the peeling wall paper and dust layered sofas so desperately made known.

Two souls currently occupied the place. Not doing it much good, but nevertheless, living in it. Sid, the House's chief and only rat exterminator(hasn't been doing the job lately), cook, coach driver and coach mechanic, worked shifts for the house but didn't really live there, Sir Randsom (Xigbar) who currently did nothing nor cared for much in the house ( and had quite the reputation for his pranks and the starting of rumors around town), and of course, the lovely nephew who never owned a lock in his life, nevertheless carried an unecessary ring of keys everywhere he went. (For security reasons as he liked to leave it.) These made up the trio who came here. Or dared rather in this dump,with the roofs shaking and rattling with the meer ring of the storm outside. Oh, and that reminds me, the roof also had a leak in it. One per room. But, it wasn't too bad of a matter. Mansions as old as these never ran out of pots to catch the water as it eased through the ceiling cracks. Lovely, Right?

With a sigh the man in the chair gave up, groaning as he snatched the letter up from the pin-holed table and tore it open with his nails. Tipping a wine glass to lips, his patched eye moved from left to right, he read:

dDEaR xIiGbar, gOuD FrIEzd OF mINeght

" Holy Heck, I'm blind..." he fiddled through his coat pocket, grabbed is monocle, and holding it up to his eye tried again.

Dear Xigbar, good friend of mine

I was searching through some old chests of mine recently, and came across something that struck me as a pleasant memory. Our old college photographs from Wells. Shocking right? We were quite young then weren't we? Well, I came to thinking about these pictures and thought, what would it hurt to gather up the gang again sometime? It would be a pleasure, and, more likely the perfect oppurtunity to exchange our adventures now as adults. Thus forwarding this invite.

The party is on the fifth. You do have the old address still right? Same place, same me! Do come if you can.

Best Regards,

Luxord of Arumond

p.s. Please bring Roxas with you! We would love to see him.

A glass forever lost its peace and hit the ground.

"SID! WHY- DIDN'T-YOU-O-MY-GOD-THE-FIFTH-TOMMOROW! ROXAS! Roxas! Get your hide down here, Now!"

Hurried and probably terrified stumping was heard as the upstairs groaned and creaked in age, keys rattling against soft trousers as a youth charged into the living room.

"Xigbar, What's wrong ? Is there a fire? Another one?"

"A fire? As if! But there will be A BEATING if don't get your bags packed!"

Roxas raised an eyebrow quizzically as his elder ran around the armchair and around the room, grabbing stuff from dressers, shelves, mantles, ANYTHING that was covered in at least 5 layers of dust was snatched up and hurled into a sack. Numbers on an old-fashioned communicator were also dialed in desperate need of a coachman..

"Sid! Sid! Yo? Who is this? What? His mama? Yeah hilarious. Look, I need you tell him that his services are needed here in- Yeah I- I know what time is! Just tell him to- yeah, Yeah ok. Thanks!"

He slammed the phone down, closing is eyes in concentration as he tried to remember the Station Yard's next train schedule. Finally hearing a noise he looked up, as two rats with cheese and a very confused little boy stared at him with open mouths.

(Growl) "Roxas, why are you still here? C'mon kid, hustle, hustle!"

Running over and grabbing his hand, he fled with him into the direction of the stairs, the sound of the coach horses and heavier rain rumbling into the courtyard outside. Roxas wenced as his wrists were grabbed a hint too tightly, and nearly tripped as the edge of tattered carpet caught his heels.

" Xigbar, Where are we going? What's the hurry for? You weren't like this a few minutes ago! OW! Xigbar!"

Xigbar remained quiet as he checked the hands on his watch again; squinting his eyes and sighing as the smallest line read wrong once more. You see, most of the possessions in this house, both personal and formal, suffered casualties to some extent, and this watch just so happened to have a bent second hand. No matter however! For once the town of Arumond was reached by tommorow, they would just have to make it a point to aquire a new one! A Commodore's Clock maybe! They're never wrong, right? Procisely the thing they might need...

Er...That is, if he could find thier beloved sack of saved coins...

Coming back to earth from his thoughts, The taller of the two in his red robe and distinguished eyepatch managed to shake his agenda to the rear of his mind; pacing the stairway steps as a tired boy dragged on close beside him.

" Ah, don't fret about it to much, kiddo. Just think of this as- an early spring trip."

to be continued...

****Whew! You made it past the first chapter. Now from here and down the road is when It may start to have a little language and er...drama, so look out for chapter updates and remember the death warning! :) r&r please?** thankies