Now of course all the characters represented in this fanfiction are (C) the Walt Disney corporation, inculding Scar/Masozi, except those created by me for the purpose of this fanfic.

This stuff is hot off the presses, folks! I started writing it about three hours ago in the hopes of curing a nasty case of writer's block. Well now I'm cured, but the bad news is I've got a story on my hands! XD This probably won't be very long, I figure I only need about three chapters to tell the whole story. To put it simply I wrote this fanfiction in the hopes of clearing up a few things about Scar's past using my interpretation of eventsfrom The Lion King. So to clear up a little something I said at the beginning of these notes, yes, in this story Masozi is Scar's real name. I mean, come on, what kind of name for a lion is 'Scar'? It's not African at all! For those of you who are curious the nameMasozi means 'tears'. So, you guessed it, Scar is an EMO kid. J/K! XD Er, at least, I hope so. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the show!

PS -- Please, please don't kill me for the EMO comment. " The Lion King was my favorite movie as a kid, and I love it enough to have a sense of humor about it.

Such tears welled in little Simba’s eyes and as he stared at me I could feel his tiny heart break. I resisted the urge to grin, but I am a good actor. Not even a wise old elephant would have believed I was anymore than a loveing uncle comforting his favorite nephew after a tragic accident, which left the father dead, as he should be. I had to compleate my speech before I could savor the moment. “And if it weren’t for you he’d still be alive. Oh, what will your mother think!”

Simba’s eyes grew even wider. He looked at me with so much fear, so much blind hope. I had him in the plam of my claws. He choked on a sob. “What am I gonna do?”

“Run away, Simba,” I told him in a hushed voice, my eyes burning directly into his. “Run away and never return.”

The mouth of my wretched, wretched newphew hung open in delicious horror as I spoke these words. Now I felt a great welling of pride inside myself, for I had rehearshed these lines so many times, never perfect, never good enough! A chill ran from my sraggily mane to the tip of my tail as I watched him turn and run, dissipearing into the winding canyon dust. I knew he believed every word I had said and once he was far enough out of sight I allowed a smug smile to touch the corner of my muzzle. Everything had gone absolutely, positively according to my plan.

Just as the sound of Simba’s feeble claws scraping up dirt faded into the distance I flicked my ear behind me towards the sneaking paws of my loyal henchmen. Although I kept my composure I was too giddy inside to remember the imbeciles’ names, so I said simply, “Kill him.”

The three hyenas bounded away and vanished under the veil of dust left over from the stampede. I first made certain that I was alone. That cursed blue bird came close to ruining my plan once; there was no telling where he had gotten to now. If Zazu had recovered by now he might already be on his way to the lionesses. In which case, I would not have much time.

I, Masozi, turned towards the corpse of my deceased brother. With my paw I turned his muzzle so that we faced one another. I so wished that he had died with his eyes open, as they had never been in life. A terrible rage built up inside my heart and looking into my brother’s cold, dead face, I whispered, “My name—is—not—Scar.”

At that moment every muscle in my fore-leg twitched with desire. Then, if were a lion of less composure, I would have struck Mufasa in the face to repay a favor he did me years ago. Oh, by the African sun, how I wanted to.

I reminded myself that by killing him and wiping his blood line from the pride I had done Mufasa more damage than what I could have wrought with my bare claws. The price was high, I knew, for my kingship came at the expense of sharing the Pride Lands with hyenas. Once, as a cub, I felt I could relate to scavengers. Now I think them below me and I have grown up despising them almost as much as I despise my younger self. Well I’ll keep those fools under my paw for only as long as I have to tolerate them. Eventually I’ll find a way to kick them out. Being such an intelligent lion I’ll be able to figure something out.

I scanned the sky one last time for buzzards. None were arriving yet. Slowly I began to feel pleased with myself again, I let Mufasa’s head slip from my paw and pretended the sound of his cheek hitting the dirt was the smack he deserved.

Then I started walking up the gorge, giving myself time to go over the lines I had thought up for when I returned to Pride Rock. From there I broke into a frantic sprint. It was a long way to run going up hill the whole way. I slowed down sometimes but did my best to keep the pace, after all, I had dreadful news to deliver. When I finally arrived at Pride Rock I nearly collapsed from exhaustion. Unfortunately this was no act, though I can’t say it didn’t win me their sympathy. As fate would have it Zazu had not come back yet. The lionesses lead me to the shade where I lay panting for a few seconds, but I dragged myself up onto four paws and there I told them the entire story exactly as it had happened:

I had been lying in my usual spot on the rock when I noticed a small brown something running across the savanna towards the gorge. When I realized that small brown something was the prince, and remembering how he had been in trouble recently, I decided to follow him to keep him out of trouble. But Simba was already far ahead of me and by the time I got down there he was already in the gorge when a stampede started! I had just enough time to see the dust rising at the other end of the gorge. Knowing that I would never be able to reach him myself I ran back to the pride as fast as I could, when I found Mufasa. Without panicking I told him what was happening and we both ran to the gorge. I watched, terror stricken, as Mufasa bravely leapt into the flood of wildebeests (I, of course, neglected to mention Zazu). From where I was standing I could only see the backs of thousands of wildebeests rampaging through the gorge and heard only thundering hooves. I searched and searched for the bodies of my relatives as soon as the stampede had subsided but the dust was so thick I couldn’t find any trace of them.

The instant I had finished Sarabi called two other lionesses to come search with her and the three sped off for the gorge. From the rocks were we sat, I could already see the vultures descending into the chasm. Mufasa’s body would be picked clean before Sarabi could reach it.