DISCLAIMER: I don't own the character (you'll have to guess who it is)

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the character (you'll have to guess who it is). I don't own the song "One Day I'll Fly away" from the Moulin Rouge soundtrack either.

The shadowed figure sat alone, contemplating his situation. He stared at the empty wallet in his hands, stolen from a snotty man of the street of New Orleans. He grinned as he remembered the man's reaction when he realized he no longer had the wallet or the $50 it held. The boy stood slowly, and exited his shabby apartment. He'd lived there for a while, saving the stolen money for a better room, a better life.

I follow, the night…

Can't stand the light

When will I begin…?

To live again

He walked down the busy sidewalk, hiding behind the black sunglasses to shield his demon like eyes. Buildings passed, the neon lights reflected in his dark lenses. He pushed his hands in his pockets, and walked silently past the people that crowded the streets. Down, past the dark alleys, past the bars that smelled faintly of sweat, cigars, and beer. This side of town was tired, run down from the constant chaos of life.

One day I'll fly away

Leave all this to yesterday.

What more could you're love do for me

When will love be through with me?

Why live life,

From dream to dream?

He moved past the buildings, a creature of the night. Silent and uncaring, he never stopped moving. Never stopped his eyes from roaming for his next target. * So many fools, just waitin' for dere poc'ets ta be picked* the figure thought. He rounded a building and waited for the traffic to cease to he could cross. Sleazy women stood on the curbs, beckoning drivers to pull over for a night of pleasure. They lit cigarettes, pulling the poison deep into their lungs.

And dread the day,

When dreaming

Ends…

He walked across the street, and pulled the trench coat he was wearing tighter. The night had become suddenly very chilly. He stopped at the corner of his favorite bar, waiting for the drunken soul to come bumbling out. He came here nearly every night to find his next meal. He listened for the heavy steps of his next victim, but the loud music and even louder shouting would cover footsteps. He heard a loud crash inside the building that sounded an awful lot like a person being thrown into a table. Curiosity took over, and he turned down the dark alley, climbing on a trashcan to see inside the dirty window. He wiped away the dust that created a fine blanket over the pane. His eyes circled around the room, looking for the cause of the racket. His eyes stopped searching when they reached the familiar body of his 'friend'. The man was only twenty, and he often stopped the boy from stealing money from others. He frowned at his battered body. *Probably got caught stealin'* He thought ironically.

One day I'll fly away,

Leave all this to yesterday.

Why live life,

From dream to dream?

He climbed of the trashcan, and rounded the corner, entering the bar. The familiar smell of booze and blood reached his nose. He walked silently to the man's unconscious body, and looked around the room. " 'ho did this?" he said in a low voice. The deadly tone caught the attention of all that were in the bar. He stood there, trench coat rustling around his ankles, blown form a slight breeze from the open door. " 'Ho did this?" he repeated a little louder. Two grizzly men walked forward, arms crossed across their chest.

"What are you gonna do about it?" one of the men said, cracking his knuckles. The boy just smiled at his bravado, and pulled out one card. It was an Ace of spades, and he twirled it around his fingers. The two men followed his gaze, and saw the card he held. "Well, gent'lmen. Why don' you stick aroun' and find out," he said softly, throwing the card at them. It hit one in the chest, knocking him out when it exploded.

He grabbed the limp man from the floor, slung him over his shoulder. He carried the man out before the smoke and the shock cleared from the room.

And dread the day,

When dreaming

Ends…

He carried the limp body into the ally, and lay him gently against the wall. Crouching, he checked his injuries, making sure none were serious. Seeing nothing life threatening, he gently shook the man to try and wake him. He heard him groan, and sat back on his heels and watched the battered man wake. "Wha' tha hell…" the man whispered, putting a hand to his forehead. He hissed when his hand touched the bump that was growing on his brow. "You don' look to good, Mon ami," the boy said, standing up. The man just chuckled, and using the wall as support, he stood up as well. "I'll live," he muttered. The boy shrugged his shoulders and started to walk away. "Where are you going?" the man asked. The boy just gave a sly grin and continued to walk on. "Wait!" the man, said. The boy turned once more to face the man's beat up body. He started to dig in his pockets, and muttered, "I'll reward ya for savin' my ass."

"No need, Mon ami," the boy said. "It has been tak'en care of." And with that final sentence, the boy walked of into the night, searching for relief from his feelings. Suspicious, the man checked his pockets. He reached into his coat pocket, and felt nothing. "Damn thief," he said, smiling at the spot where the boy once stood.

One day I'll fly away,

Fl, fly…

Away

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