Chapter One

The Blues

Moonlight streamed through the top floor apartment window pane and shimmered as it hit the glass of vodka; dancing across the pure crystalline liquid as it was swilled from side to side, and then brought into shadows as it was raised to tense lips.

City moonlight never looked real, he thought moodily. It was tainted by the artificial lights of a million homes and even on a clear night you couldn't see the stars for all the smoke. Not like the country he grew up in; the tiny village where if you climbed to the highest tree branch and parted the canopy of leaves you'd be treated to a feast of visual splendour; a symphony of the heavens lit up in all its natural celestial glory and watching over the still, quietness of the woods.

God how he missed those days, but he wasn't the sentimental type, so he pushed the thought away with revulsion. He knocked back the drink quickly enjoying the fire down his throat; the numbness that slowly seeped through his muscles, taught from the evening's activities, and reached for his cell phone.

He snapped it open in the shaft of moonbeams; the only source of light in the room, and the green glow illuminated his face. He started a text message and wrote only four words;

Job done. Wire money.

He pressed send and grimaced. A job like any other. When did it become so damn easy? He snapped the cell shut again and tucked it away into the pocket of his black jeans. Still holding the glass he moved over to the TV, and passed the mirror on the way. The motion of his own image startled him for a second and his hand impulsively flew to his holster, before he realised what he was doing and snorted at his own paranoia. Like anyone could ever get into his apartment unnoticed.

He regarded his own face, and mused that even years after moving to the city, after starting this occupation, it was like staring at a stranger. Not being the vain sort he never spent long on his image short of shaving each morning; he didn't need to. He supposed from women's reactions when he did occasionally venture down town out of necessity that he was good looking, but his own bitter sense of self loathing took care of any confidence these attentions might have sparked.

Steely black eyes, flat yet as sharp as flint, gazed back at him blankly, and his pale skin was ghostly in the twilight. His hair, raven black and darker than the night itself, stuck up wildly at the back and fell to his high cheekbones at the front. He knew he should cut it; he didn't want it getting in his eyes on the job, but he never seemed to muster the enthusiasm. His expression was as remote and cold as ever, and it made him sick to look at.

He perched on the edge of his leather chaise longue, refilled his glass from the bottle constantly present on the glass coffee table, and flicked on the TV. Nothing interesting was on, though he almost stopped on a comedy game show before catching himself.

The nostalgia had made him ache; it had been his ex-lover's favourite show, but his conscience woke up with a start and began to beat the holy crap out of him.

'What the hell are you thinking,' it screamed, 'are you that fucked up that you can take a man's life one hour and be laughing at a game show like a normal guy the next? You're not normal and you never will be. Quit pretending.'

It was true, even after all this time of killing for necessity, for money, he was unable to fully remove himself from the gravity of his actions. Even after a successful job he refused to act cheerful or join the others in his organisation in a celebratory night out; he simply couldn't do it. He mourned the loss of each soul, and the fragmenting of his own, by returning to his apartment in silence and spending the evening numbing the pain.

He'd tried taking women back to his spacious, modern apartment; seducing them was easy, but casual sex as a hobby just wasn't fulfilling and only reminded him of what he missed most greatly. God how he missed him…but nostalgic thoughts weren't allowed, he reminded himself, whacking his own head lightly with the TV remote.

He nearly dropped it, startled, as his cell vibrated. He retrieved it and read the new message, again the eerie green glow of the screen shining in his face.

New job. Good price. Local. U in?

He smirked. Of course he was in, it paid, didn't it? And yet, even as he set the cell on the table beside the nearly empty vodka bottle and leaned back into the soft leather, he found himself able to switch off the TV but unable to switch off his own thoughts. One in particular was flickering in his drowsy mind like a hazy memory; a vision of blue eyes and blonde hair.

'It's not like I was going to get any sleep anyway,' he grumped.

Hey there everyone, this is technically my first fanfic so please be gentle with me!! This intro chapter follows the uber luvly Sasuke, in case that wasn't obvious. I'm trying this out as a oneshot, but if people like it I shall continue. Hell, I might continue anyway, since this premise is really fun. Please, PLEASE review and tell me what you think! :hugs: thankyou!