Warning : AU, some doses of OOCness (well, it's AU), mild language, doses of violence and some mentions of killings and assassinations (uhh, I have another fetish for assassin!Sasuke…), shounen-ai, implied yaoi, there are also some het pairings here, cliché-ness (well, this is yet another assassin/spy-thingy…), mystery, and over-all… AU-ness.

Disclaimer : I don't own anything (including the mentions of certain brands and all that…) So, I really don't own anything.

Notes : This fanfiction starts off like a "normal" human world thing, but this will not remain as an strictly guns-and-daggers type –sweatdrop- Does that make any sense? Anyhow, I hope you all like this one :) Oh, and the storyline here is much, much different from my other assassin!Sasuke fanfic, Lone Flower.

This story is inspired by: Groove Adventure Rave, Avenger (it's a pretty cool anime), Full Metal Alchemist, Naruto, Yu-Gi-Oh!, Tantei Gakuen Q, Rurouni Kenshin, Gundam Wing/Seed/Seed Destiny, Beyblade G-Revolution, Fushigi Yuugi. Prepare to see some elements of the above-mentioned animes to appear on this fanfiction :)

Please Read and Enjoy:)

Prologue Chapter

The Assassin of Darkness

The room is dark.

It's not just because of the blinds shut down tightly, securely over the windows, not allowing even a small ray of light to venture inside the room. It's not just because of the absence of any light, including the study lamps on the table.

It's… the aura of the room itself is dark. It represents the type of places where very few normal people would even muster the courage to step into, and much less would actually want to stay.

The occupant of the room isn't normal however. He isn't bothered by the eerie darkness of his office; if ever, he thrives on the darkness created by his only place of false security. The silence (not peace, definitely not peace) of his office is disrupted by the vibrating sound of his cellular phone against the wood of his desk. The sound is rich, and it reminds him of the sound of a dull knife scraping against his target's door yesterday night.

He picks it up, the sleek design fitting against his gloved hands perfectly. As he opens the message he received a few seconds ago, he idly wonders when was the last time the skin of his hands and fingers felt something, aside from the rubbery-like fabric of his gloves.

After his obsidian eyes scanned the straight-to-the-point message, he flicks open the switch on his laptop, and a few moments pass before the screen gives him the dull, artificial glow of light. His right hand poses over the mouse, and quickly clicks certain icons on the screen. As expected, there's new mail. He clicks the "Read" button, and patiently waits until a new window appears.

While waiting, his left hand deftly opens certain drawers, drawing out the necessary paraphernalia for this mission: the fake IDs, the specialized white gloves, the hand-held guns, the car keys, the azure-tinted glasses.

The electronic mail tells him the vital information for this mission, along with the statements from his "manager", telling him that the payment is already deposited on his bank account. It only shows the confidence of his clients on his skills, an assassin known to have never failed any mission.

He prefers to go by the name Yami, which directly translates to darkness. Only a select few people know his true name, which rings of the past he'd rather bury to the depths of the earth. He sighs, a movement that doesn't really mean anything to him.

He closes his laptop silently, carefully putting his form of security over his belongings. It happened many times already; others would try and sneak in to his office and steal his "important" items. His laptop doesn't really mean much to him, but his appointments are listed there.

He pushes back his wheeled chair, and he reaches to his right side, easily finding his briefcase already filled with "necessary" weapons. Beside the silver briefcase lies a small pouch which he picks up and he places the things the items on his table systematically, his hands effortlessly memorizing the order of the stuff he put in.

He snaps open the briefcase's lock, and quickly skims over the contents, finding the types of weapons inside to be sufficient for killing a scum-bag politician who's on his way to perform a shady deal about the construction of the third biggest mall in the whole world. Guns, mortars, daggers, knives, sharpened lead sticks, bullet supply… everything is on his slightly-heavy briefcase now.

His cellular phone vibrates against his desk once more, and the vibration doesn't stop. He irritably picks up his phone, and from the name that's flashing on the screen, he learns the caller's identity.

"Yes?" His tone is curt, yet it still has the natural velvety quality that makes unguarded females swoon with delight.

"…I just called to say good luck on your mission, Yami-kun." The voice that slipped to enter his ears sounds deceptively sweet and caring. He doesn't deem the caller's message important enough to receive a reply, so he hangs up instead.

He pushes himself away from the desk completely, and he stands up, his black trench coat billowing from his abrupt action. He has a mission to complete.

He parks his black Ferrari on an abandoned corner, one road away from his destination. His eyes scan the surrounding thoroughly, and he already takes out a few things from his briefcase. There's another container on the passenger seat, and he opens it deftly, eyes still highly aware of his surroundings. His car's color might be good camouflage, but he doesn't rely on it entirely.

After all, if he has learned one thing from his life, it's to never trust anyone, anything.

His name symbolizes not only his preferences to darkness, not only to his strange fascination with dark-colored objects, not only because of his evil smirks associated with demons that roam the nighttime skies, but because of his darkened heart, made icier with all his burdens from the past.

A slight movement from the right catches his attention, and he stealthily slips downwards on his seat, and he tugs his silver briefcase full of different types of artillery closer. The movement turns out to be the congressman's car (along with his security entourage), going towards the arranged meeting place. He passively wonders why is their agency bothering with a lowly creature like this politician, but he reminds himself that one pointer in their job is to never ask questions about their missions.

He is all right with not being there earlier than his target; it's just the way he works. Plus, the paranoid congressman is thirty minutes early, and he would probably ask his lackeys to survey the area first. It's just fine that he's not going to be there yet. At first, though, this course of action bewildered his superiors, but it's the same method that earned him the distinction as The Best, the assassin that has never failed to finish his missions with flying colors (and that includes deleting all evidence left behind).

He places a pistol inside his leather pants' pocket, deciding to go to the site of the deal in five minutes. He doesn't really like snipers, so he uses plain hand guns. His simplicity in his choice of weapon puzzles his clients and superiors, but from his track record, his performance is something that they won't question.

He also places his white-colored gloves on his other pocket, though he doubts that he'll be using them. He presses a button near the steering wheel, and his invention chirps an electronic (if not dull) voice, stating that his car is now under his self-developed security system.

Satisfied with the early preparations despite the suddenness of this mission, he opens the car's door, and makes his way towards the abandoned demolition site.

His silent footsteps stop when he sees an unbelievable sight. If he saw the politician and all his security dead, he won't be as surprised. He blinks behind the shelter of his tinted glasses, hiding all his movements, and the sight doesn't vanish.

A young teenager is seated, cross-legged, on the dusty soil, looking bewildered and very much tired. No matter how cute (thinking of that word makes him want to shoot himself) the person is, he's very much male. He's wearing a laboratory gown that he recognizes from "scientific laboratories" ran by the military and the State. He possesses spiky blond hair, littered with dust and other debris. His robe is torn and crumpled at certain places, and his upper left shoulder still has a white tag, which contains the code 571PL6, upon closer inspection.

The teenager doesn't move from his spot, despite the assassin's closeness. The blond seems to be in shock, though determination (to do something Yami doesn't know what) is presently supporting the male's narrower-than-normal shoulders. His rational thinking says that this teen probably escaped from a laboratory, and is now dirtied because of a chase.

The assassin's ears pick up the hushed voices from a couple of feet away from them, and his rational mind is snapping at him, telling him that he still has a mission to fulfill. His eyes can't seem to stray away from the young one's dirtied form, and he hates himself for it.

Yami's ears pick up another tune, a sound that signals a conversation gone astray. Anger and impatience rings in the silent air, and he notices that the sun is setting slowly, coloring the sky with a pinkish-red hue.

I still have time, he whispers mentally, trying to soothe his mind's nagging at his lack of action.

"What are you doing here?" He crouches down to the blond's level, and his voice is quiet, but urgent. The teen looks up at him, but there's no fear on his blue eyes.

Pink, dry lips murmur softly, distantly, and a few words come out. The voice reminds the assassin of something awfully familiar, but he can't remember at the moment. "I… I don't know."

The answer feels like heavy steel dropping from the topmost point of this site, which is approximately twenty stories above.

He clenches and unclenches his hand, hearing rapid footsteps go about. Without him knowing it, his hand already pulls out a small pistol from his black pouch, and he hands it to the puzzled blond teen.

"Do you know how to use a gun?" He asks tersely, his eyes tracking down and finding his target hiding behind one pillar near the worn-out elevator, with three of his security huddled around his fat-bellied figure.

The gun is pulled away from his gloved fingers' grasp, and he doesn't wait for an answer.


The sound of bullets whizzing through the air doesn't surprise him. After all, most shady deals end in a shady way as well. He fleetingly wishes for somebody else to kill the politician, but he knows that he can't let others do his job. He notices that despite the messy chaos the negotiation has created a few minutes ago, nobody's dead yet. The injuries are rather superficial, with a few people getting shot on their shoulders, on their arms… He neglects to focus on that, and he aims for the congressman around ten feet away.

This is easy, his mind snidely comments, and he pulls the trigger, sending a bullet flying through the air, clashing against his target's heart. The fat, old man staggers forward dramatically, greedy hands clasping his front, but he could see –even from this distance- the devilish grin on the congressman's lips.


I should have known this would happen, He mentally snarls, and bends his knees, allowing him to go downwards, avoiding the dozens of bullets that come his way. He hates himself again for not expecting this; a lot of people want or need him dead. Without the famed Yami, their lives will become safer by a whole 80 percent.

The blond is silently sitting –still cross-legged- beside him, looking more alive by each passing minute. The assassin hears a couple of rhythmic footsteps (on a march, he supposes) going towards his direction, possibly on a circle, wanting to corner him. His lips twitch into a displeased frown, but his… companion doesn't comment.


Some of the bullets hit the soil a few centimeters away from his fingers, and he successfully holds back an animalistic snarl. He opens his briefcase quickly, silently, and he assesses the situation intelligently. He gives the pistol on his hand to his companion, and it's accepted with an understanding nod. He's not expecting the teen to know how to shoot properly (or even use a gun), but he knows that under life-threatening situations, everybody could perform miracle-like feats.

He takes out a pair of white gloves from his pants pocket, and wears them with angry determination. He doesn't like the idea of using them, but if the situation calls for it… He takes out two revolvers from his case, intending to use one for each hand. The smoke bomb has a small key-chain-like ribbon, and he ties it around one ring finger.

"Stay alive," he mutters at the complete stranger sitting beside him, and he prepares to retaliate on the idiots who even had the idea that they could defeat the assassin of darkness.

A young man walks slowly across the ruins of Laboratory Five, the most… secret of all the labs in the whole state. Now, it's state is even less than completely destroyed, and his scarlet-colored eyes spot one of the lead scientists assigned on this place.

Dr. Kawamura visibly cringes at the sight of the young man's slender figure, and the red-eyed male suppresses the urge to smirk at the pathetic human. He instead looks coolly at the older man, commanding him silently to explain the things that happened.

Smoke, destroyed rooms, wires, fire… everything is a mess. A chilly wind blows by, playing idly with the young man's grayish-black hair, and caressing his purple-painted fingernails.

"…T-The 571PL6 escaped-d a f-few hours-s ago-o, M-Master-r…" Stammering is complete sign of weakness, the young man thinks distastefully, and his eyes assess the amount of damage done by the specimen's escape. It's rather easy to say specimen, even though the one who escaped is very important to the state, more so to his Organization.

"Aa," The red-eyed male says plainly, giving no indication of his irritation or anger at the scientists' low-guard for things like this. The whole Lab 5 is ruined and even though it wouldn't be much trouble to build another sophisticated laboratory like this, it's still bad news.

"Employ everybody to search for 571PL6." He orders steely, his crimson eyes emotionless.

"B-But, Sir-r—"

"That is the top priority," Uchiha Itachi re-affirms his statement earlier, and Dr. Kawamura hastily scrambles away to inform the troops. After all, nobody would dare annoy Itachi, especially when his eyes are glowing red like that.

Itachi sighs mentally at all this trouble, and he thinks hard of the places where he would have gone. Coming up with absolutely nothing, he spots a relatively soft-soiled area and he sits on one chunk of smooth cement. His long, purple-painted fingertips dip into the ground, and he sketches a couple of characters.

5 7 1 P L 6

He smirks despite himself, and the wind shivers from the coldness of his expression. Nobody else might realize this, but 571PL6 is more important than anything else on this world. And he wouldn't let him get away from his hands.

To Be Continued

To those confused with the characters' identities: Sasuke is Yami (the assassin); Naruto is theteenager (with amnesia) who shows up at Sasuke's mission; Itachi is the "slender young man"; Dr. Kawamura is an OC :D And 571PL6 means something :P You just have to be…resourcefulin thinking up the meaning.

Sorry for the short and vague prologue, but I'm still testing the waters with this one; I hope this would receive favorable responses, despite it's… "mysteriousness", at the moment. :) I also hope that you guys don't mind the description; I have a feeling this one is rather… detailed. Much thanks and love to all those who read and support my fanfictions! –smile-

Please look forward to my next chapter, which would include (1) Sasuke and Naruto's escape (2) Naruto's state of amnesia (3) Hints of start of shounen-ai, SasuNaru style (4) the appearances of Itachi, Orochimaru and Kisame (along with others as well)Some explanations for Naruto's lack of memories will be included too :D Chapter 1: The Whispers of Rain is going to come your way soon!

Reviews and other type of feedback are very, very welcome :D