Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Okay guys, a little heads up on the idea for this crazy KH Fanfic, I was sitting around the house and my brothers were watching The Godfather Part...I don't know which one, but anyway, I got to thinking, that the Organization, Org. XIII, is much like the Mob. No matter what you do to leave, there is no chance leaving, and then I got to thinking, why not make up a Fanfic off that idea? So, here it is folks! Its still a work in progress being that I'm limited on time to get around to posting it up on my computer being that this is FINISHED, on PAPER. But, Community College life, social/family life, and Convention Life coming up next summer here in Southern CA for me, it kinda makes it hard to do it.

Before I continue to ramble, as a heads up NOW, I will be trying to get the rest of this story typed on the Computer and posted during my Winter Break which won't be until after Dec. 20th due to I have Finals: Dec. 17th, 18th, and 20th. So, if you guys can bear with me, I would greatly appreciate it.

Chapter 1:

"You can't turn your back on the Organization!" screamed a fiery red head as he grabbed the arm of a young boy of only 15 with almost dirty blonde hair and turned him back to meet his emerald green eyes.

"No one would miss me...besides...I'm already a dead man walking," the teen as he yanked away from the red head; he started to round the corner and as in that short time. The sounds of shots could be heard ringing out through the street as the sound of someone falling to the ground, writhing in pain was heard among the muffled scream of another shot heard.

"ROXAS!" the red head's voice screamed out through the night air as he rounded the corner to find that it wasn't the blonde on the ground, but a Dusk starting to disappear into nothing. When did all this begin? Why did it happen and what brought on the tight knit family union of all the Members. Why were they dressed as Roaring 20s mobsters bent on making sure that no one left; regardless of what the Boss had said about there was no way, you could ever leave with your life.

"Roxas...you may have managed to escape, but...you can never escape the past," the red head muttered as he kicked at the final remaining dust particles that lingered on the wind of the Dusk that had attempted to end the young teen's life.

What had brought about this strange turn of events to cause the young teen to have to sneak off from the Organization in the deep, dark, darkness of the night? Nothing or no one could explain the reasoning behind it. Only the young teen who was slipping away into the night and towards the unknown knew the reason. It would be best to start at the beginning to tell the full story of how all that had just unfolded came to be.

The year was 1923; the jazz band was the biggest thing at the time and the action of Prohibition was in full swing, the Swingers and Flapper girls were seen upon the streets. They were as decorative as the street lights of the city itself; the Flapper Girls could always be seen walking the streets heading towards a local Jazz Club to try and score it easy with any man willing to buy them a drink or even two. Sometimes it became something more; the Jazz band was in full swing as the sound of the MC walking up to the Standing Microphone could be heard among the loud noises of the busy and bustling Jazz Hall.

"Now listen hear all you guys and dolls, groovy and smooth cats...Jazz Master Demyx is here to lie down some new tunes he wrote himself today, hit it boy," the sly tone of a man remarked as his platinum blonde hair, that had been hidden by a fedora was removed and he bowed to the young Jazz Man.

The Jazz Man was a dirty blonde haired young man; he had a small quirky smile painted upon his lips as he walked forward and began to strum away on the instrument in his hands. The instrument started out slow and easy, the tune was simple, but as the drummer and other members of the band took the hint; the speed increased, ten fold.

"Let's kick this town into gear!" the dirty blonde announced to the band as he went to town on his instrument.

The band struck up as the patrons got up from their seats and began to dance to the lively tune. The young bartender watched as he tapped a finger against the counter in beat to the song as he hummed along with it.

"The boys got talent, I'll give him that much," the dark browned haired bartender remarked; his hair was semi spiked back as he walked up to the counter and saw that he had patrons, "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

The men seemed like shady characters; not the typical kind of people you would usually see in the Jazz Club.

"We wish to speak to your manager on behalf our 'friend'," the gruff voiced man with elongated side burns gruffly remarked; his eyes were deep and dark.

The bartender took no time in taking the hint as he made sure that no one saw the transaction as he leaned forward and whispered to the man, "Go around the back and wait for me...give three knocks, one loud and the other two soft...Don't let anyone know you are here," the man looked up and down the counter bar again.

"Sure thing," the man motioned with his head and body language to the other two sitting next to him as they got up and followed.

"Who were those men, Mr. Leonhart?" a timid, but yet medium pitched voice asked; it came from the young blonde teen holding a tub of dirty dishes from busing the tables in his arms. "Just some 'special' customers of Mr. Wise...besides, don't you have dish duty to be doing instead of snooping around behind my back and wondering what I'm doing?" the man sharply as he glared at the blonde; the blonde took the hint as he nodded his head frightened.

"Ye...Yes...Yes sir...Sorry sir," the blonde balanced the tub while running to back to the kitchen to proceed.