Alrighty then! Here it is, the rewrite to Death to Disney! Written mostly under the influence of cookies and the Gungrave OST's. So there. …Well, this chapter, anyway. The others were written under the influence of late nights, the Wolf's Rain OST, and Malice Mizer (squee!).

-O-

Prologue

Wind gusted and howled through Traverse Town, whistling through the eaves of the buildings in the First District. The wind was cold as ice in midwinter and sharp as a knife's edge, leading the inhabitants to turn their collars up over their ears and hunch their shoulders against the chill. Absorbed in their own individual thoughts and tasks, they hurried onward, not desiring to be out in the cold any longer than necessary. They all ignored the bloodstained heap against the wall at the entrance to the alley.

It started to rain, a frigid, driving rain, blown diagonal by the winds. The drops were colder than the wind and most unpleasant, so the inhabitants hurried ever faster. Lashed by the wind and rain, the heap shivered.

The heap was actually a man, a dark-skinned impressive looking man with thick silver hair, clearly in his prime. From a distance, he appeared perfect, whole and uninjured. But a closer inspection revealed purpling bruises, numerous bleeding cuts, and a curious lump on his chest: broken ribs. His left arm hung from his shoulder at an impossible angle. His hair, usually so luxurious, was lank and matted with dried blood.

He looked up, fierce golden-orange eyes dulled and glazed by pain. He watched the endless stream of passerby for a moment, reflecting how close he'd been to destroying them all. He drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his good arm around them, closing in on himself, trying desperately to keep warm. The face of his lover hovered for a moment in his mind's eye as he sighed, touching his chin to his knees. It'd been so long since they'd seen each other…

The man's name was Ansem.

Idly, he glanced up at the humans rushing by, all traveling as one pack in one direction, a shivering mass of energy, dark thoughts, and the general cluttered, chaotic aura all humans seemed to possess. He closed his eyes, not observing the one different one. She moved against the flow, her step almost a glide, fluid and catlike, radiating an aura of order and sense. Her step was slow and deliberate, but not once was she buffeted or jostled by the crowd.

Ansem's eyes opened again as he felt the rain slacken somewhat. He looked up and saw the different one holding an umbrella over him.

She was pale, so much so that she seemed dead. The wind blew her long black raincoat flat against her lithe form, flapping and swirling around her ankles and shining, polished shoes. Her long brown hair, loosely tied back with a black silk ribbon, hid her faintly glowing silver eyes, the only truly alive-looking part of her. Her hands were encased in tight black leather gloves, the left holding the umbrella and the right resting casually on a gold-tipped, ebony cane. Rainwater dripped from the brim of her black stovepipe hat, the red silk band damp and dull.

They stared at each other for some time. Eventually the girl spoke.

"Your heart… is perhaps… the darkest I've yet to meet," she murmured. Her voice was deep, like a boy's. "But…" Her eyes traveled over Ansem's broken form. "…You are gravely wounded."

Ansem narrowed his eyes.

"What do you want?" he asked hoarsely, voice rasping painfully in his throat.

"You would have been perfect. But you are too broken…" she continued, ignoring Ansem. "Perhaps this is my own pessimism speaking, but you don't look long for this world."

Ansem chuckled softly. That wasn't exactly news to him. The girl bent to his level and leaned closer to him.

"I can heal you, make you more powerful than before," she said quietly. "I know who you are. You are Ansem, the seeker of darkness. You unleashed the Heartless into the worlds, and discovered the heart of all worlds, Kingdom Hearts. You tried to find your way into ultimate darkness, but you were thwarted by the Keyblade master and the king. Am I not correct?"

Ansem blinked. The girl's knowledge of him and his past was surprising, to say the least.

"With my help, you can slay the Keyblade master and the king, as well as the king's lackeys and any foolish enough to oppose you," she went on.

"Why should I trust you?" Ansem replied. "You said it yourself, I'm dying. I know my time is up. I failed, so why should I think I could try again? There is no second chance when dealing with the heart. I have but one regret, and I don't intend on sharing it with you."

"I can allow you to see your lover one last time, at the least."

That shocked Ansem.

"How did you…?"

"Your heart is an open book right now. As you sit dying, anyone with the ability can come along and see into the deepest reaches of your heart."

Ansem shook his head. "I'm not sure I believe you," he said. "The Keyblade master, the king, and those fools serving him are the ones that reduced me to this in the first place. How can I triumph over them if they defeated me once?"

"So you're just going to give up?"

Ansem laughed, then winced horribly and clutched his ribs. "I'm not in a position to do much else, am I?" he replied through gritted teeth. "Besides, how do I know I can trust you?"

The girl laughed, a horrible, low laugh that made Ansem's blood run cold.

"You don't," she answered. "But look at it this way: What choice do you have?"

"I can sit here and die quietly rather than possibly violently."

"You would die like a dog when I am offering you a chance to slay your greatest foes?"

That made Ansem think. Regardless of what she did later, she was offering him a second chance. Second chances were not offered very often. He could kill the king and that wretched Keyblade master. He might be able to see his lover once more. And, whatever he said to the contrary, Ansem did not want to die like some beaten cur in the rain in the alley of Traverse Town… it was far too intriguing to let pass.

"I accept."

The girl grinned, thin lips sliding away from pearly white teeth. Two long fangs winked at Ansem. Traverse Town melted and dissolved before his eye. For a moment, for one horrible, long moment, Ansem thought he'd died anyway. He was trapped in some sort of limbo, incapable of moving one way or the other, it was dreadfully cold, the cold was cutting into him like daggers…

…And then the cold was gone. Warmth seeped into his bruised and bloodied form, numbing his numerous hurts. The scenery returned a moment later, a darkened apartment.

Tall mahogany bookshelves lined the cream-coloured walls, their thick denizens bound in dark shades of red, blue, and green cloth, black and brown leather here and there. A highly varnished black desk sat in one corner, a book and lone candle resting on its polished surface. A low, Greek-styled couch sat against the wall, a low table in front of it. There was a book here, too. The thick, plush carpet was deep wine-red, matching the curtains on the bay windows.

"Where are we?" Ansem asked, looking around.

"My home. Or one of them," the girl replied, hanging up her coat and umbrella. Ansem noticed they were bone-dry. Under the coat, the girl wore a black suit, white shirt, blood-red waistcoat, and black silk tie. She turned back to Ansem, pulling a pair of black wire-rimmed glasses out of thin air.

"Now, then…" she said. "Before you bleed all over my carpet…" Her fingers flashed in the air in front of her, and a glowing symbol appeared in front of her, roughly level with her shoulders. It hovered for a moment, emitting a cold, eldritch light. The girl murmured something unintelligible, and the symbol shot forward. It struck Ansem square in the chest.

Almost immediately ice blossomed over the point of impact. It swiftly turned crimson as the blood on his chest froze. The ice spread, searing like white-hot knives over every centimetre of his form. He cried out in pain, doubling over. Ice cracked loudly and reformed as he moved, every movement bringing a sweeping wave of pain. A rush of images assaulted his consciousness, and, unable to process them all at once, he blacked out.

-

Ansem awoke on the couch, aware that his wounds had healed. He felt a power coursing through him the likes of which he'd never known. He cautiously laid a hand on his chest, and discovered no broken ribs. He sat up and looked around. The girl sat at her desk reading the book, silver eyes skimming back and forth behind her glasses. Ansem noticed she now wore white silk gloves. She glanced up and saw him.

"Ah, marvelous," she said, snapping her book shut. "You live. You slept like the dead, and for a moment I thought I was incorrect. But no matter. The point is you live now, so my hypothesis was correct. For you, at least."

"What did you do?" Ansem asked.

"One of my more clever ideas," the girl replied, a smug grin on her face. "I once had a thought that if a person was mortally wounded, a transfusion of heart would save them. In essence, I gave you part of my heart. Unprecedented, to be sure. I am positive you can vouch for this."

Ansem nodded, struck dumb. In all of his research, he'd never heard of someone giving away part of their heart. No one had thought to try.

"My name is Reivanlocke, by the way," she said. She extended a gloved hand. Slowly Ansem approached her and took it, wondering who exactly she was and what he'd just gotten himself into.

-end prologue-

Rawr. I still think Reivanlocke seems like an Anne Rice reject, but now she seems more like Rip van Winkle from "Hellsing." I suspect it's the tie and the glasses. Reivanlocke doesn't wield a musket, as anyone who read the first (coughcough) crappy (coughcough) version would know… I have three pics of her up on my DeviantART account, BTW…