A/N: This is the multichaptered collab that I was talking about! We'll have an uploading schedule. About every two weeks or so, maybe even sooner if we have time to finish half of the story. We ARE up to chapter seven right now. Just to let you know, I wrote this chapter! I hope you guys like it, and welcome to the wonderful world of a dystopian society! Read and review!

~K

Chapter One: A Sight For Sore Eyes

Calloused hands felt around for wrinkled bedsheets as Alfred F. Jones struggled to escape the confines of his bed to welcome the morning. 'I should be used to this already,' he thought sullenly as he took cautious, shaky steps towards the connected bathroom. Being blind was no walk in the park.

Due to his name, he became one of the many to remain sightless for the end of his days. He silently envied those blessed with I's in their names-they were able to see the crinkles of a face, the dawn of a sunrise, the flora and fauna, all the wonders of the world they live in. He still had his other senses, but they seemed dull in comparison to what he's been told by his family and friends over the years. He longed for the gift of sight like a beggar for spare change.

Sighing, he snapped out of the depressing train of thought and located his dresser in order to get ready for another grueling day at work as a taste tester. 'It's not like I'm qualified for any other job,' he pondered, 'I don't even know what I look like, what I dress myself in, or even what I put in my mouth. It's all a blur to me. But I should be glad that they felt sorry for me and hired me in the first place.' It's not like he wasn't satisfied with the pay, oh no, anything but that. He just wished he could do a job that he wanted to do, not a empty space open to anybody who has to suffer like him.

Making sure he was presentable, as much as he could anyway, the blond grabbed the doorknob firmly and stepped outside, taking a big gulp of fresh air and following the familiar smells and noises on the path where he normally walked to the sweet shoppe.

Wandering aimlessly down the street, Alfred kept his head down and his face covered while he listened to the random chatter of the busy people passing by.

Suddenly, he felt his center of balance throw itself off and the world spin for a brief moment as he fell towards the hard concrete. A subsequent "Oof!" resounded from both parties, then the large man on the receiving end snarked, "Why do you not watch where you are going?"

That alone sparked anger in the the pit of his gut, for he knew the type of malice and disgust laced in the stranger's voice. That alone clued him in on how privileged he was.

"Well, sorry, buddy, I can't exactly do that because I CAN'T SEE!" he barked back, lifting his head and taking off his tattered hood to show him. A pregnant silence descended after his unexpected outburst as everyone turned to look at the cause of the commotion. Alfred sat there, breathing heavily, shaking with unshed tears in his pearl-grey eyes. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself with a flush of embarrassment situated on his face.

The man stood there with a look of guilt on his face and decided not to anger him any further. "I am very sorry, little one. I did not know. My name is Ivan Braginski. I was in such a rush and I did not see you there. I would like to make it up to you."

Alfred hesitated, inwardly counting the number of I's in his name. 'Three.' he concluded. 'He must have three eyes, then.' He lifted himself up with a grunt and dusted himself off. "You really don't have to do that, I'll be fine," he answered, still slightly disoriented. But he wouldn't tell him that. He was afraid that he'd look down on him, other than literally, of course.

"I insist." Alfred didn't trust the new sugary-sweetness that had replaced the edgy, menacing tone from earlier. "Like I said before, no thanks." A feeling of uneasiness swept over him as he slowly tried to back away.

In a bundle of quick reflexes, Ivan hoisted him up onto his shoulders and ran in the opposite direction. "HEY! Put me down!" Alfred yelled as he swiped at the man's head, missing each and every time. "HELP!" He turned his head towards the sound of people frantically and desperately, trying to get their attention. Unfortunately, Ivan quickly clamped a gloved hand around his mouth, shutting him up as he continued sprinting.

"I will not take no for an answer, comrade~" He sang as he made another corner. "Now, if you do not mind, please tell me where you work so that I may bring you there."

The persistent boy kept his mouth shut, refusing to give in to his demands. Instead, he snarkily remarked, "You know this is basically kidnapping, right?"

"You are not crying out for help anymore, are you? Besides, you are not a child. You look around twenty, if I am not mistaken." Ivan retorted, grinning like a madman.

"Smart alec," Alfred muttered. Out loud, he countered, "I don't even know what I look like. How would I know? Plus, I guess nobody would really care if I disappeared anyway. Except for probably Mattie. And Francis. And Arthur." He involuntarily cringed at the last one. If the Brit ever heard of this fiasco, he'd wig out and never leave him out of his-well, Francis'-sight again!

Ivan came to a stop near a butcher's shop and gently put him down. "Surely that is not true." he assured him. "Oh, silly me! I did not get your name."

"Alfred. Alfred F. Jones."

"Ah! Fredka it is!" he chirped. The ashen blond took a look at his watch and grimaced. "I am late, and must be going. You can take care of yourself, da?"

"Yeah, I think I'll be alright, big guy." Ivan smiled at the term of endearment and gave him a squeeze on the shoulder as a means of goodbye, since waving would serve no purpose.

Hearing the heavy footsteps grow quieter, Alfred began to think again. 'Ivan Braginski, huh? Sounds Russian to me. Interesting…' "Hold on, wait a minute…"

"I DON'T KNOW WHERE I AM!"