Chapter One – Simba
"I'm gonna be a mighty king, so enemies beware…"
Thomas O'Malley lowered the newspaper he was reading and looked over the top of it at Dodger, perking one eyebrow. "Dead? A whole patrol? That's crazy talk, Dodge. City Guards are the only people in the whole town that are allowed to carry guns. How would anyone even attack them?"
"It wasn't done with a gun, Tom!" Dodger interjected, eyes bright with excitement. "They say the Guards were cut up! Whatever the guy did it with, it was a bladed weapon!" Leaning back, the street-wise reporter adjusted his dark glasses, beaming in admiration. Thomas sighed and laid down the paper, shaking his head. "I'm telling you, Dodge, don't make a big deal out of this. It's just some psycho. People around these parts don't even know what the word 'revolution' means. Scar's got their minds locked down. It's been that way for years."
"Yeah, but what if it was someone fighting for freedom? Eh? I gotta find this guy and talk with him! It'll be the greatest story ever!"
Thomas, a well-learned gambler, waved his friends exultations away with one hand. "Don't place your bets on this guy yet, Dodge. That's all I'm saying."
Dodger grunted in acknowledgement as a waitress approached and set a pot of coffee on the table between the two. This done, she leaned over Thomas's shoulder, scanning the newspaper. "Anything important happening Tom?"
"Nothing they'd write in the newspaper… but, Nala, you gotta hear this." Dodger spoke up, before Thomas could reply. "Some guy slashed up a whole…"
"You don't even know if it was a single guy yet, Dodge." This time it was Thomas's turn to cut his friend off. The pretty waitress tipped Dodger a wink, laughing, "Chasing stories again, Dodge? Just be careful you don't get yourself into trouble, you hear?"
"Yeah, yeah." Once again Dodger waved a carefree hand as if to dispel his friends' worries from the air. "I just want to get to the bottom of it, alright?"
Oliver made a moaning noise as he took another bite at the toast he was eating. "I don't see why I have to go to school still." He mumbled around the food. "It's not like they can teach me anything. I could learn math faster on my own and, as for history… I already know how to play pretend, thank you."
Zazu had to smile at this revolutionist statement, though he agreed with it wholeheartedly. In an attempt to sway the children of the city to his side Scar had ordered all true histories to be burned, and new ones written naming him as the Immortal Emperor who had ruled the city since before the dawn of time. It truly was laughable. However, the middle-aged owner of the orphanage knew the harsh penalties assigned to children who attempted to skip school, so he aimed for the young boy's weak point. "Kiara never misses a day of school… could you really trust her safety with the kids at your school?"
This had the desired effect on Oliver, who shot Zazu a glare and resignedly turned his attention to his toast.
After they had finished breakfast Oliver and Kiara, along with the other children of the orphanage, left for school. Or, rather, they were about to when something on the path to the street stopped them, and one of the girls screamed. Zazu came running out of the house to see what was the matter and screeched to a halt, his jaw dropping. In the middle of the small walk that led up to the orphanage there was a dark form lying stretched out on the ground, a small puddle of red slowly leaking from it. Quickly telling the children to go back inside, he rushed over and turned the form over. It was a boy in his late-teens, probably around 18. He had two minor shot wounds, as well as lots of scratches and scrapes. Lifting him up, Zazu called out to the house. "Bernard! Bernard! Bring some bandages!"
Once he had brought the youth inside the orphanage, Zazu sat back to take a better look at the boy while his assistant bandaged him. The boy was fair-haired, though his long mane of hair was dirty and tangled. His build was slight but lithe, and the boy gave off an aura of strength, even comatose. He was dressed in torn black clothes… and he had a sword hilt hanging from a chain around his neck. This caught Zazu's eye, and he studied the hilt curiously. It was just a simple thing, with no decorations, and the small bit of blade attached to it was broken off after only an inch or two.
Suddenly, the boy stirred and both Bernard and Zazu backed away instinctively. Opening his eyes, the youth regarded them both groggily as he struggled to focus. Finally, he opened his mouth and spoke. His voice surprised Zazu, for it was powerful even in it's softness… like steel feathers… "I'll say this only once; you shouldn't have brought me into your home. I am a hunted person, and you will only bring disaster upon yourselves by aiding me."
This statement astounded both of the caretakers so much that they remained speechless for a few moments. Finally, Zazu dug up a reply. "D… Don't worry about it. We're used to picking up strays, no matter what kind of past they have. Who… who are you? Are you alright?"
"I'll be fine." The youth said, standing. Once on his feet he swayed a bit, but managed to remain upright. "As for who I am… my name would mean nothing to you."
Once again the boy's cryptic way of speaking mystified the two, and they exchanged a glance. They were just about to express their confusion to the boy when he suddenly spun around, and they saw that he was looking at Kiara, who had just entered the room.
There was a long silence, which was finally broken by the young girl. "You're the one! The star I saw in my dream! Only… your sword wasn't broken then…"
"It was you, then." The young man murmured, looking thoughtful. "A voice called out to me in the night, and I've felt something pulling me ever since I entered this city… It must have been you."
Kiara grinned and nodded. "My name's Kiara! What's yours? Where are you from?"
The stranger regarded her for a moment, and then replied. "My name is Simba… I'm afraid that's the only one of your questions I can answer. As for my sword… it has always been broken… and, at the same time, even now it is not broken."
"Not… broken? I don't understand…" Kiara tilted her head in confusion, looking at the hilt from several angles. As she did a loud knocking came from the door, causing everyone to turn his or her head. Simba sighed and pulled the broken sword off of its chain, gripping the hilt in his hands. "I told you this would bring trouble…" Zazu, mystified entirely by this, went to open the door. Standing on the porch was a burly City Guard, his pistol in hand. At the sight of Simba, he raised his gun and shouted. "It's you! We've been getting reports of a stranger dressed in black wandering through the town. You must have been the one who took out that patrol… with that sword!" Having made his declaration, the guard aimed the pistol at Simba's heart.
Springing forward, Simba flew into a flying tackle, knocking the guard backwards out of the house. Rolling to his feet the youth pointed his broken sword at the man, who was trying to stand up, and Zazu had to blink to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. The sword was whole! The blade, fully as long as Simba was tall, shone brilliantly in the sun. Simba kept it still only for a moment before plunging it through the unfortunate man's throat. The guard gave a gurgle and fell backward. Pulling the shining blade free, Simba executed a half-turn, making a bright crescent in the air with the blade. There was a thud, and Zazu drew in a sharp breath. A guard had appeared behind Simba as the boy was dispatching his first opponent. However, when this man tried to raise his gun it simply fell apart in halves! Simba's arc had cut right through the weapon! Seeing this the guard gave a short cry, which was cut off as Simba executed him with a flick of the blade. Three moves, that's all it took.
Turning to look at Zazu, who had forgotten to breathe, Simba wiped his blade off on a rag. "You see what I mean now? I'm bad news. Help me clean up these bodies and I'll be on my way without bothering you any more." The caretaker nodded dumbly and moved to help. As he did so he saw Simba lift the broken sword up and drape it around his neck on the chain once more. So it was broken again, now… but it had been whole for a moment, Zazu was sure his eyes hadn't deceived him. Besides that, the two dead bodies were a testimony to the truth of it.
After they had disposed of the bodies, Zazu saw Simba to the gate. Once there he paused, and looked at the ground. Simba turned to him and arched an eyebrow. "Something the matter?"
"W…Who are you really? And why are you here?" Zazu stammered, almost afraid of what the boy would answer. Simba took a while before answering, and when he did there was a grave tone to his voice. "Tell that little one that I am the star in the darkness. I am the son of Mufasa, the King of this land. Scar undercut my father's power and overthrew him, taking the throne for himself. I have come to reclaim that throne… for I am now the rightful King." This said, he turned… and left.