it's all about the disclaimer: well, obviously i do not own kingdom hearts...no matter how much i may really really want to...! -sulks- if i DID own it things would be very different. in many different ways. XDD
a word of caution, if you please: contains swearing, violence (DX), possible alcohol usage, and pirate booty action because we all like that ;D i'm sure there's more to warn you about but history notes have pretty much knocked my head up something bad! -glares at text book-
Author's Note: i'm just popping out story ideas like crazy these days. what's worse is that i have to decide which ones i really WANT to post. -face to keyboard- i just need some metal health days before finals and summer vacation so here i go with this POTC 3 inspired kingdom hearts 2 story...! -nod nod- enjoy chapter 1!
Winning Love in a Game of Dice
Chapter 1: Guns and Prostitutes
It was a long time ago when countries were not as far apart as they seemed. At the time, one could gaze over the horizon and catch even the slightest returned gaze off the shore. Needless to say that no one was alone. Most would've called it paradise. Paradise in a sense that guns and canons were always locked, hidden from use. After all, all those things could do was create isolation...and no one asks to be alone...
No one asks to be nobody.
Pirates never had a clear sense of where to go. Some say that the wind carried them wherever, whenever. Some say that those were the reasons why they blew ashore, obtaining land as their own, transforming them into something no longer worth living for. And as the lands changed, so had the people. With each place claimed, paradise began to file out through the waves.
Greed controlled lives.
As unbelievable as it seemed to say, all pirates had a fear: becoming no one. Avoiding that fear developed as separations grew further and further apart. Once serene people, who became desperate for their interactive lives, soon became pirates themselves. With their numbers great, pirates had nothing to fear of loneliness.
Greed controlled lives.
With the passing years, pirates continued to grow and claim their titles as leaders of the seas, cutting off ocean pathways that once bound people to people. Towns were belittled and destroyed during the most hellish of wars. The guns were stolen, the canons were unchained. Lives were cut short and lives were no longer wished to be lived.
The pirates owned everything and everyone they desired...sometimes winning them through something as simple as child's play.
A young boy sighed restlessly as he shoved his hands in his pockets, uselessly poking a finger through a hole in one of them. He'd been mugged again earlier that morning from some rowdy kids that decided that they wanted to be land pirates. He knew that was a joke. Land pirates didn't exist. Neither did sea pirates.
He ran his slender fingers through his clean, spiked, blonde hair and moved off to the side of the street where he climbed up onto a shaky fence and sat with one leg up beside him. There weren't many teens like him around The Isles; they'd all been bartered off to sea or stowed away in their homes for the rest of their lives, since their mothers feared for their lives.
He couldn't say that he was entirely happy about the fact that he was one of the few 16 year olds on the island. He could think of a few: his brother, his brother's best friend and some girls that rarely even showed their faces. And when those girls did come around, they were completely obsessive with him that he only wanted to put them in hiding again.
"Pf, pirates," he scoffed and leaned back to stare up at the slowly darkening sky. He couldn't believe that people actually believed in those people. All they were doing was throwing their lives away by hiding.
He took a good glance around the area he was sitting in. Ok, so maybe the buildings and the streets were a little muddy and maybe there was a bad case of prostitutes wandering around every hour of the day. But, regardless, The Isles was considered "safe". No "pirate raid" for millions of years and he knew that it would stay that way. After all, The Isles weren't marked on the map. No one could find it anyway.
Snapping back for a moment, he stared down at the ground where he saw a woman, noticeably much older than he was, staring back at him. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her hands were at her hips. Her face was overly "done up" with heavy black eye makeup and deep burgundy lipstick. Her cheeks had to be paler than a corpse. He judged her into the prostitute category. Not this again...
"Look, I'm not going over this again..."
"Save it then, boy," she raised a bony hand in his face and sneered, "I'm not lookin' for gold outta you. Yer friend back down the road paid me to be his little messenger to tell you to get your ass over to him." Picking up her raggedy old dress, she tiptoed away to some cheap paying costumer that had been eying her for the past hour.
Ruffling up his hair again, he jumped down from the fence and turned to the left where the woman had told him to go: a fairly crowded street with a few roaming chickens pecking at people's feet.
Look's like he was heading back home.
"Hey, hey, that you? Hey!"
Slowly, he cracked open the wooden door enough to slip through before closing it shut behind him. He leaned against the doorframe while waiting for the voice to come again. "Sora?" he called out into the dusty, dark workshop.
"Roxas! Back here, I'm back here!"
Roxas, he was called, roughly heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. Scratching the back of his neck, he attempted to maneuver through the dark without getting nudged by tools and work tables. The place smelled of sawdust and melted metal, like it always did, but today the room had an unusual lighter scent now. Raising an eyebrow, Roxas extended his hand far enough in front of him before feeling something brush against his fingers. He nearly jumped back.
"What the hell?" He reached up to the ceiling and pulled down on a metal cord which popped open a sky window, letting the last of the bright skyline flood into the shop. When he looked back down, his jaw lightly dropped and his eyes widened. "Sora?"
There Sora was, on the floor, covered in broken boxes and spare parts with his arms and legs sticking out through the openings. His head was just barely peaking out from between a bucket of nails and a broom. In his left hand he was holding on fairly tightly to a sword, one that Roxas hadn't seen before, that had a dark black hilt with two silver blades extending side by side from it.
Roxas bent down over his brother and began pushing crates away, his eyes glued onto that sword. "Don't tell me this is what you called me over for."
Sora chuckled once the last crate was off of him and sat up, turning the sword over and over to examine each blade. "Nah. I actually called you to show you this." He held it out and Roxas had to resist stealing it.
Sora was older than Roxas by a year and was pathetically immature. He had equally spiky hair as his own but it was dark brown instead of blonde. Sora and he had to depend on each other since they were seven years old. Their mother had been sold over seas and their father had been brutally killed in some street activity. From there, the two had to take over their father's repair shop to make a living. It wasn't like it mattered, though. Not many people here battled.
"Sora," Roxas started, grabbing the top of the two blades and lowering it into Sora's lap, "you're not supposed to be sword fighting." That was why the smell was different in there: Sora was sword fighting, not working.
"I'm not fighting. I'm just testing. Riku found this one out at the coves a couple weeks ago and had me fix it up. Neat, huh? Think it might've been from a pirate shi..."
Roxas shook his head before Sora could finish. "Never. They're just a myth, pirates." He shrugged his shoulders and released the sword from his grip. It was awkward touching that thing. He almost felt like he could test it out himself.
"Whatever. You just don't like stories." Sora's eyes lowered back down to the sword as he twirled the tip of both blades in the air. In the corner of Roxas' eyes, he followed their movement. It was amazing how sharp they were. "Anyway, I was testing it out before you came here and I ended up falling over."
"State the obvious." Roxas pushed up from the floor and helped Sora up with him. That was somewhat true: stories weren't that great to him. He had to see it to believe it. To try and move away from the topic, he turned around to a table behind him and opened up one drawer, pulling out two black cloths that he wrapped around his wrist and in between his middle and forth finger.
He tied both off on each hand and flattened out his long, dark brown vest over his short sleeved, nearly transparent, white shirt. He kicked one foot out to straighten out his brown leather boot before turning to do the same for the other. He hated wearing boots. They made him look like the stereotypical pirate.
"Maybe you should put the sword away and get some sleep. You'll need it for working tomorrow."
Sora puffed his cheeks and blew upward to the bangs that fell just over the top of his cobalt eyes. He roughly combed through his hair in the back and raised his eyebrows in disappointment. Sora was a child at heart, really. "What ever you say," he breathed and stuck the sword up on the wall beside his collection of old "pirate" swords. Useless things.
Lazily, he waved over his shoulder at Roxas before stepping further back into the room where the darkness hid another door to a bedroom, the only one they had. Roxas rolled his eyes and shook his head, walking toward the front door where he sat, peering out through a termite hole beside the doorknob.
Even as the night got later and later, people continued to spoil themselves on the streets; treating themselves to booze, card games, gambling and women that looked like they truly were corpses. Sickened by it, Roxas pushed away from the door frame and attempted to let the accordion music and the swaggering curses of the neighbors lull him to sleep. It was his turn to guard the shop tonight, seeing as the lock had been broken for months.
Yo ho, yo ho...a pirate's life for me.
We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, and loot,
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.
We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot,
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.
Yo ho, yo ho...a pirate's life
Roxas twitched his head both sides, his eyes just barely keeping up with his head. He had felt something thumping against the wall behind him but as he looked around the shop, nothing. Suddenly, while he rubbed his eyes to fully wake up, another shot echoed outside, down the street, past the houses, cutting songs and drunken play off. Ignoring his growing headache, he shot up on his feet and knelt down to peer through the hole in the door again.
No people. No games. No music.
"What's going on?" he whispered airily, petrified and unable to move away from the door.
Another shot, this time further away from the last one. There were a couple of screams, belonging to women that uselessly sobbed and pleaded. Another and another. The screams lessened in an instant. No one dared to speak.
"Sora...Sora! Sora!" Roxas scrambled away from the door, tripping over his feet while hissing his brother's name through the dark. As he passed the sky window, he smelled heavy gunpowder entering the room. "SORA!" he tried again, this time managing to get a faint response. He sounded choked.
"Did you hear that?" was the reply back. He stopped running and overheard chains being rattled at his feet.
He vaguely nodded and turned frantically from in front of him to the front door. Nothing like this ever happened before. This shop and one weapon shed down the road were the only places in The Isles that kept guns. He thought they were all locked away. He admitted to being the slightest bit afraid.
"Come on. We're gonna check it out."
"What?!" he asked, throwing his arms out in front of him. "Are you crazy? We'll get killed."
To his surprise, Sora chuckled. He heard something metal scrape across the wall and he knew that Sora had taken down a sword. Fight? Idiot! "There're pirates, Roxas. Think about it!"
Before Roxas could open his mouth, he had something flung at him, a heavy wooden gun with a metal handle and trigger. He ran his fingers across it and tapped the trigger once, loading a unloading the bullets inside. "Sora," he half laughed, "we're not fighting. Besides, there aren't any pirates out there."
"How do you know? Hm?" Sora teased and Roxas felt his brother's shoulder brush right past him. He turned around forcefully and watched his shadow move toward the front door in an eager manner.
"Sora! Don't do this!"
"We'll just watch. It'll be fun."
With a worthless sigh, Roxas slipped the gun into a pocket in the side of his pants and followed after him.
'It could just be street activity,' he thought. He froze for a second before holding the door open while Sora motioned for him to follow outside. 'Although...it could just as easily not.'
gyuh, i'm so hungry! i want to change our clock in the classroom so i can run off and eat my bagel...first i need to buy a bagel. D8 anyway, that's besides the point!
i hope to update the next chapter after 10 reviews? that chapter reveals -bum bum bum- ...someone. run, roxas, run!! i really hope i can hear what you have to say to inspire me to keep writing! otanoshimi kudasai!
nobody move...! i dropped me brain,