Once a Somebody
By Lynx of Organization VI
Summary: The first six members of the Organization were once the apprentices of Ansem the Wise...but what about the other six? A look into the Somebodies of #7 through #12, and the Disney worlds they may have come from.
Author's Notes: The ideas came from chatting with Gext, who gets credit for a bunch of them, plus from another Roll-of-the-Dice challenge. (One of the chapters is the same as the themeset drabble.)
Silas jumped in his skin at the sound of his name. But it was just the wind in the trees.
God, it wasn't even his name. Frank had been so damn drunk last night he'd slurred his name into I'as, and then the whole camp started calling him that. Goddamn, Frank, you sound like an idiot yelling AI-ASS all over the place, he remembered. And watch that tinder! You're gonna start a damned forest fire, clumsy ass.
Not that he hadn't gotten a little tipsy himself...it was cold as hell up here. Snow still clumped on the trees and grass, and gray clouds smothered the sky from sun to tree line.
Couldn't be helped. Deer season started in February.
Luck was with him today. A doe and her spotted fawn stepped out onto the meadow, sniffing for the first grass of a new spring. He concealed himself behind a grove of cedars, and waited until they settled into eating.
Silas's hands fumbled with the rifle. These things always felt too delicate...he'd rather sneak up on the animal and bludgeon it to death with a hammer, or – what were those things called in that weapons magazine? Claymores? Either way, he loaded his rifle and leveled it with the doe's heart.
The doe heard him. He hissed a curse under his breath as it looked up, ears twitching and white tail erect. The doe almost seemed to be speaking to its offspring, telling it to run...
And they did run. Silas cocked the hammer as the doe and fawn sped across the meadow, kicking up snow—
Missed. The two deer ran faster—
They were almost to the safety of the thicket now—
The doe fell. The little fawn continued to run, and disappeared into the trees. Silas could care less...he had his prize. He strode victoriously up to the doe as she breathed her last, a wolfish grin across his face.
He'd almost forgotten how much he enjoyed the thrill of the hunt.