Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or ideas of Kingdom Hearts, which belong to Square Enix.
(A/N): Okay, chapter two is here. Enjoy!
Chapter 2: Disturbances
It was no more than 10 'o clock in the evening when it began to rain in a faded, forgotten city. The billboard screens on top of the towering, (almost) lifeless skyscrapers flickered as they struggled to stay lit. This, along with the faded glow of some long gone entity of light in the sky, was all that kept the city in contact with a decent amount of light. It scarcely allowed one to see the road they set foot on, let alone examine their surroundings. The city, seemingly soaked in a sinister ink, set about an uneasy feeling for anyone who still grasped some sense of "light over darkness".
For the locals, however, this concept brought about laughter. They knew nothing else but the darkness, and so they called this place home.
A young man, no more than 19 entered a small tavern after a long day of work. As he strutted through the dingy, darkened, yellow glass-paned doors, the local tavern-goers shot him a look that would even make an executioner's neck hairs raise. But this didn't faze him, not even a little. He had not even so much as flinched as he walked to the bar, setting his bones on the stool farthest away from everyone else.
His frame was somewhat bony, but absolutely toned. His head was covered by a black hood, belonging to his concealing black leather trench coat. It fell to his mid calf, where one could scarcely see the equally as dark knee-high boots, trimmed with silver. The tight fit of the jacket complimented his every feature. From near his collarbone hung long metal tassel-like ornaments from small chains. Another necklace-like arrangement of silver rings travelled from one tassel chain to the other.
The bartender gradually made his way over to the young man as a slug crawls across a log. "Why, hello there, sonny. What can I do ya for tonight?" he asks in a dark tone, words slithering slowly like a snake. The bartender's speech was just as sluggish as his movement.
The young man shifted in his stool. "Jack Daniel's," the young man almost demanded, picking up a dusty toothpick from the table. He flipped it through his fingers back and forth. "On the rocks… Got it memorized?" he continued to order as the toothpick between his thumb and index combusted, leaving a small amount of ash on the counter he leaned on. The bartender examined the face of the young man, shrouded and concealed by his hood.
The bartender's dry mouth slowly dragged across his face, leaving a smirk that would make anyone else leave on the spot. "Daring tonight, eh 'pard'?" he sneered, turning to the ancient-looking bottle on the wall. The young man frowned under his hood, as he could practically hear the mildew on the shelf complaining, trying to keep the bottle of liquor (only the bottle itself knew how long it's been there) firmly placed onto it as the bartender pried it off. 'Okay…bad choice, probably.' He thought to himself as he drummed the counter with his fingers.
Of course, this brought amusement to the bartender, as well as the regulars who sat nearby.
Ice in, liquor almost swimming in the dusty glass, the bartender firmly placed it down in front of the hooded young man. "Daniel's, on the rocks. Enjoy..." the bartenders words practically slipped past his lips, just as he slipped out of the hooded young man's sight.
The young man picked up his drink, swishing the liquid round and round in the glass, and grimaced. "Man, I've gotta find a new joint. This is pathetic..." he thought aloud, his voice sounding like a warm summer breeze that contrasted the entire region in which he dwelled. A drunken, faded silhouette of a man reared their head towards him. "Don't like it ; leave, pretty boy." he snarled, giving him a glazed glare.
The young man shrugged, and continued to swirl the drink around in his hand. This seemed to agitate the drunkard. "Got a problem with it, pretty boy? Too dusty, eh... I'd be leaving... if I were you. Order scum like you doesn't deserve to... sit your cursed bones down in this," the drunken man swayed for a second, gripping the bar counter for support. "...lovely spot." The young man gripped his drink tight, stopping his swishing.
The ice cubes clanged the glass as the movement came to a halt. "Keep talking, buddy. I'm completely flattered. Keep talking." he sneered under his breath, setting the glass promptly down and cracking his knuckles. This set the drunkard off. "Crackin' them weak little bones, eh?" he ridiculed and looked back to the other drunkards behind him. The tavern-goers around them began to give a low, dark chuckle.
"Poor little black-hood's got himself in a little rut, eh boys?" the drunkard jokes, leaning on the counter once again for support. The young man gained mumbles and snarled remarks from the many drunken men around him. He stopped cracking his knuckles, and set his left hand onto the counter. Soon after, the ice cubes in his glass began to melt, his drink savagely bubbling. In a few seconds the drunkard's beer began to froth, overflowing his glass in a steamy fit, as well as many other drinks nearby.
The young man turned to the taunting man, staring into his glazed eyes. "Aren't you just the life of the house tonight? Thing is," the cloaked man began, shifting towards the drunkard, so his mouth was inches away from his ear, "I can easily undo that." He threatened, using the man's shoulder as support as he got off the bar stool, making him cry out in sheer agony.
The young man's leather-gloved hand had burned a hand print through the grimy man's clothing, and left a hefty second degree burn that sizzled disturbingly. The man fell to the ground, gripping his burned shoulder in agony.
The tavern-goers began to get rowdy. "Who do you think you are, buddy?" another drunkard slurred in anger, getting up to face the hooded figure who was now getting irritated. "I'm someone you don't want to be messing with, pal. Sit back down." He threatens ominously, beginning to walk out of the tavern. His interest was completely spent.
"I don't think so!" the drunkard shouted after him, throwing a beer bottle directly at the back of the young man's hood. To the drunkard's horror, it passed right through his head, smashing against an unsuspecting victim, rendering him unconscious. "Crossed the line, man," he warned for the last time, turning to face this stupefied perpetrator. "Now you get to witness the show first hand…" He grinned under his hood, leaving the bar. The drunkards were confused.
The young man took no more than five or six steps from the bar when he raised his hand up to head-height, and snapped his fingers. Almost instantly, the entire bar went up in raging, terrible flames, brutally incinerating everyone inside. Various small explosions went off as the alcohol ignited here and there. The hooded man grinned a wide smile, and withdrew into the shadows down the street.
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Bet you can't figure out who the young man is ;) Stay tuned!