Chapter 1

August 15, 2062

Jupiter and three of her moons hung low in the sky that evening. Her red eye glared a warning down upon all on Ganymede that no good could come of that night. Only the stars and moons were silent witnesses to the men walking to the door of the single family home on the edge of town. Mercilessly, they kicked in the door, and the distant sounds of gunfire echoed through the quiet night. The two bodyguards were caught completely unaware and dropped bloody and torn by machine gun fire. One of the men grabbed the screaming woman as she ran for the back door, and forced her back into the sparsely furnished living room. He shoved her roughly into a chair as the others made a search of the small domicile looking for more gunmen hired by the desperate woman. When the others returned, they nodded in a matter that told him every thing was clear. He motioned to the door and one of the low ranking members of the group opened the door and stood back.

The reflection of the three moons shined behind the man in the doorway. His face was completely obscured by shadows, but his hair was luminous silver in the light. He walked into the home as the woman whimpered, his cloak was quickly taken by one of the underlings. It was very clear that whatever would happen that night would not happen without this young man's express consent. His eyes were like ice and held no pity for the whining, whimpering weakling that called herself a woman. His sneer belayed the fact that he detested weakness, the sniveling tears of those he was sent to deal with. His eyes, already cold, narrowed as he watched her fall apart before he even said a word.

"Be silent." His voice growled. "Your tears fall on deaf ears."

His words seemed to have little effect on the woman, but she ceased her mewling, and sniffled between her whimpers. He straightened his suit front and gave her a moment to attempt to compose herself. He seemed to be in his late teens, and one would wonder how such a young man had already gained such control in the powerful criminal syndicate that he was so obviously working for.

"We have given you every opportunity to repay the substantial debt that you owe to us." The young man growled on. "Yet not only have you yet to repay us, but you also seem to have scraped up enough money to not only hire one useless body guard, but two. We find this highly unacceptable, and my leaders would very much like recompensation in one form or another."

He paused letting the words sink into the woman's head. Her green eyes widened and her mouth opened and closed wordlessly. She was clearly terrified, her blonde hair hanging limply framing her face. She deeply regretted borrowing even the smallest sum from the Red Dragon Syndicate, but at the time, 3 years ago, she expected her husband to be around to pay it off. He, however, had found himself more in his element with a younger woman and a faster car. Classic mid-life crisis, normally, the former trophy wife would sniff and say what a pity, but this time it had happened to her.

"Since you are unable to pay," He drew the word unable out as cynically as he could. "Then you will simply serve as an example, for others who would follow your footsteps in this lapse of intellect."

He dropped his hand to his side where a beautifully wrought katana hung, and it made a small click as it was snapped free of its sheath. The sound echoed through the silent room, causing fresh tears in the eyes of the woman.

"Mama?" a tiny voice called from the stairs.

The man paused in the process of unleashing certain death upon the woman to turn and discover the source of the new voice. Even he hesitated when he saw her. She could not be more than three years old and her long black hair hung down to the edge of her little nightgown like ink that had been spilled from a bottle. Her eyes were an indescribable blue and within their bottomless depths, held the innocent promise of a hundred spring days. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at her.

She did not cry out at the odd scene before her, instead studying the players of the strange drama with an intensity that displayed great intelligence in such a young soul. Her little foot left the stairs as she walked forward into the room, glancing at each of the people before stopping before the leader of the group. She looked up to him, eyes unblinking, accessing him, challenging him.

"Who are you? What are you doing to my Mama?"

The child had no fear in her voice as she spoke, merely anger that someone had so rudely interrupted her quiet night. After waiting for a moment, she made an exasperated sigh and placed her hands on her hips. In that moment, she looked as though she actually was the master of all she surveyed. He couldn't help himself, a noise that made all the adults in the room shudder with fear, escaped his throat. He laughed.

"My name is Vicious." He said simply as he dropped to a knee before her. He looked deeply into her eyes as he talked. "Your mother did very bad things, and now she is going to be punished. Do you understand?"

The girl looked thoughtful, then nodded. She turned and walked over to her mother and hugged her tightly. She smiled up trustingly from that pose at Vicious, then her eyes shut as she squeezed her mother for all her worth. Vicious turned and whispered to one of the men. The older man walked forward and picked up the innocent child, smiling at her.

"Come, show me your room. What toys do you like to play with."

The child's attention diverted, she chattered happily about toy ships and cap guns. Vicious watched them leave then turned back to the mother. It was as if the temperature in the room had dropped rapidly as he went from the uncharacteristic display of warmth back to the cold emotionless void which he seemed to spend most of his days.

"A life for a life." He stared at the mother's eyes as he spoke. "She will come with us, to be raised by the syndicate."

"NO! Please!"

Faster than she could react, Vicious unsheathed his blade and whipped it across her cheek. Blood seeped from the wound. He wiped the blade on the collar of her shirt before speaking again.

"Would you prefer that we simply mutilated and killed you, leaving her alone here with your rotting corpse?" He waited until he saw her shake her head before continuing. "Then remain silent, make no report to the police, and do not disturb her as she leaves. I have no desire to make such a long trip with a squalling child."

The mother nodded as he finished, tears blinding her as the blood flowed from the slash on her face. The older syndicate member walked down the stairs with the little girl balance carefully on his hip, now fully dressed, and a suitcase in his other hand. She wiggled down from the man's grip and ran over to her mother.

"Guess what! Guess what!" she cried happily. "The nice man is going to take me to a big house with lots of toys!" She looked at her mother's tears, and took in the sight of the blood running down her face, and scowled. "What happened?"

The mother looked up fearfully at Vicious. "I just tripped that's all. I will be fine. Go ahead and have a good time, these men are going to take care of you for a while. Do you understand?"

The child nodded at her mother, with a look of confusion on her face. She accepted her mother's will without question.

"Good, then I want you to be a good girl, and do as you're told." The mother snuck another look at Vicious again. "They will take good care of you for me."

The child turned and looked at Vicious, seemingly rolling over the events of the past hour in her mind. She slowly nodded her consent and hugged her mother tightly, saying goodbye. She turned, blue eyes burning their way into Vicious' mind forever as she walked toward him. The man that had held her before scooped her up before she could reach Vicious, and carried her out the door to the waiting limousine. Vicious turned to follow, but paused in the doorway shooting back one last look at the weakling of a woman that had given birth to the remarkable child he was taking with him.

"Wait a week, if there is a report made to the police in that time, kill her without mercy." He coldly stated to the last man out the door.

He knew the mother had not heard him, she was too wrapped in her own misery and self-loathing to notice if the roof had fallen down upon her. The last syndicate member handed Vicious his cloak and he walked out the door. Vicious could not help but wonder as he left, how could something so weak have created something so strong.

Vicious pondered this line of thought as he stepped into the limousine. The trip was silent, punctuated only by the yawns of a small sleepy child. When they had almost reached their destination, she started dropping off to sleep. She climbed across the limousine to the unoccupied seat next to Vicious. Curling up into a ball, she rested her head in his lap, and dropped off to the land of dreams. Everyone held their breath as Vicious was shocked by the sudden physical contact by the trusting child. Slowly, almost fearfully, he extended his hand and carefully touched her hair. He relaxed and began to stroke her hair comfortingly as he had often wished someone had done when he was a child.

"We shall call her Obsidian."

No one questioned him.