Hmmm… let's see. It's sort of AU, you'll see. Aha

Disclaimer: not my characters. Nope none of 'em.
Warning: violence, language, criminal activity, and yeah… stuff around those lines.

The huge metal beast settled in its spot as the rumbling and vibrating halted, "you're here. Now get out." The baby faced blonde looked over at the trucker who just spoke. He couldn't be serious. There was no way the next world was a mere twenty miles away. Sure, the blonde had never been outside of anywhere, but he heard rumors that it took weeks to drive from place to place. He swallowed in disbelief. "What're you waiting for? Get out. This is your stop, kid." His voice was harsh like sandpaper as he pointed to a sign that read, 'Twilight Town.'

"This isn't right? You said you could take me to the next world. This is just the World's limits!" he was astonished but followed the truck driver out of the long haul anyway. His raggedy boots crunched in the forming snow and he instantly lost a good six inches, making it hard to tail after the man currently fixing his hat and spitting off to the distance.

"You're broke. You 'ain't have a dime to feed yourself and neither do I. I'm not getting arrested for not feeding your pipsqueak ass." The man snorted as he looked over at the too short blonde in disgust. "And don't get me wrong, kid. But your kind isn't welcome in a lot of places. It'd just cause me trouble. So hurry up and get lost."

The blonde folded his arm and glared at the greasy black haired man disappearing into the twenty-four-hour-convenience store, "My name's not kid! It's Roxas!" he called to no avail. He scoffed. His kind. His kind. His kind were people too, he knew they had to be, even if he'd never met anyone who could do the things he could. Where was he going to go? What was he going to do with himself now? It was the dead of winter and pitch black outside. He felt is stomach knot up in fear as the light posts flickered in the chilling cold wind, but he still didn't know what to do with himself. Did he follow the trucker until he either drove off or let him back in, did he sit out in the cold and just wait until his appendages slowly froze in a black painful mess, or did he hike back to his orphanage? He let out a breath watching it tangle in itself in the air before a blinding white head lights clouded his vision, he squinted at the sheer brightness of it all before they blacked out and the driver glared hard at Roxas. Roxas remembered his place and even the words the truck driver said and the lights came back, and so did a loud honk that reverberated off every single snow flake and forced the blonde to flinch.

"Freak!" the driver yelled as he turned into a road across from the convenience store. Roxas blinked, and then swallowed thickly as the impulse to follow the car took over him. His boots crunched almost deafeningly as he trailed after the car that was too far ahead now to even really see. His eyes dilated in the frozen darkness until his ears twitched. Was that music? He tucked his hand further into himself in a desperate attempt to keep warm; should have taken gloves with me. His teeth chattered and his shoulders shook with every step. He felt like lead, but he couldn't stop, he smelt the warmth emanating from ahead before he could even see the bright blaring lights that danced around the sky from a rundown looking bar. His eyes focused on the nameless place and as he did he was vaguely aware that whatever the sound was… it was vibrating in his core.

Before long he pushed through heavy steel doors and the smell of cheap booze sweat, cigarette smoke, something that he couldn't even begin to put a name to, and blood invaded all of his senses. He felt nauseated with every motion he made, every step of his legs, and every breath. He felt his lungs burning and aching with the desperate need for clean air. He placed his hand over his mouth and nose as he examined the strange building, not wanting to brave the cold just yet. There were grungy little tables placed haphazardly every which way and stools that should have long expired. Perhaps a floor might have existed but it felt like it was melting under each step he took; whatever it was sticking to the soles of his thick boots. Men scattered everywhere but most of them were crowded around a rusted cage that touched from floor to ceiling. The shaking and rattling in the cage along with a few low growls, had his mind reeling, maybe he had walked into a dog fight; in that case he should just walk out. The thought of two hopeless mindless creatures attacking each other until one of them couldn't move, or even died was enough to get his stomach turning again. Men were shouting so loud and the music that was used to cover up that from the outside was splitting his eardrums. All their faces were focused on the cage, and even if he didn't want to see, he had to. He had to know and he had to now. The small male was struggling through the sea of men sending him dirty looks as they stepped aside, some not all that willing to move.

He finally made it to the elevated cage and blue eyes settled on the two forms captive inside. Mouths pulled back, showing off angry teeth, snarling, and hair bristling with every attack, and the most horrifying part; they were both human. The blonde's eyes darted around crazily from each person to the next trying to discern between the two. In a haze they were lunging at each other, grabbing at exposed necks, and kneeing every chance they got, fists flying, and crashing to already sweating and bruised flesh as they grit their teeth harder, refusing to let out anymore than a grunt when they should have been regurgitating the whole of their stomachs with each blow. Roxas had never seen anything like it, and he had been in a few scraps himself; he gasped softly as his blue orbs settled onto the seemingly shorter male and he dodged a fist sent his way to be only met with a knee to his nose. It didn't bleed and it was the most astonishing thing, seeing as it sent him reeling back, and it was then that Roxas realized how stunning this creature was, because surely something that didn't bleed from that couldn't be human. His vermillion hair spiked up in every which way and his piercing green eyes accompanied by high cheekbones and a narrow jaw. Those eyes didn't have any emotion in them, but the acid in them was sloshing around with every move he made. His upside down teardrop purple tattoos seemed almost black against the harsh lighting, but Roxas knew better than that. His every muscled flexed and contracted with every cat like movement and didn't even seem impacted by the blows he was receiving, and in the ones he was dealing. Roxas swallowed again, holding back the bile he felt rising at the sight of blood oozing out of a cut on his cheek. So he is human. He whipped at it before he grabbed the other male's bearded face. He screamed in disgust, curling and twisting with pain; the only real noise either of them seemly let out. The crowd grew quiet at this. His larger hands grasped and clawed hopelessly at the slender fingers that were being crushed into his face. The blonde's eyes widened in complete horror. He was begging… for it to stop. How much pain could that grip inflict? The red-head grinned wolfishly, another thing Roxas would have been taken aback at if given a different situation, before smashing their skulls together. The burly man slumped to the ground twitching and silently crying as his hands hovered over his face. The redhead didn't let out a sound as the cage doors were opened and he stepped out cracking his neck.

The flesh or what was left of it was shriveling up and bubbling over with blood and just oozing as he writhed in pain and no one was helping him. Roxas could imagine every nerve ending on fire and no way to alleviate the pain. Bone was showing and in a few places huge chunks of cheek muscles were burnt and the sight was enough to actually have the blonde heaving up acid onto the ground. It would have been food if he had eaten in the last forty eight hours. Everything was painfully slow from that point on as he stood clutching onto the cement ledge and trying desperately to get that image out of his head. He stood on shaky legs and forced himself out of the place that didn't even have a name. The cold air was refreshing as the world spun around him in a dizzy mess. Maybe it wasn't the sight of a man's burning flesh and skin seemingly falling to bits as he twisted and cried in pain with no one to help him, maybe it was the sickening smell he couldn't put a name to. It was vomit inducing from the very beginning, but being out in the frozen night air allowed his head to start working again and lungs to fully expand. Roxas had never been surer of anything in his whole life than when he decided to never go back in there again.

"You should have stopped, gods, Ax, you never know when to just fucking stop." A pained voice murmured around the blonde and he glanced up from his boots and stiff laces. The red-head. He was holding a hand to his head and the other griping onto an envelope in the other. "He's going to be faceless for the rest of his damn life, and over what a couple hundred?" he held the envelope to his face and then dropped it to his side again. It was like he was talking to someone, but no one else was there to listen. The redhead kicked up some powdery white snow and then cursed wildly. Then suddenly a laugh that was lost in itself and far off in some other world was let run freely into the empty street that was leading back to the convenience store where Roxas originated. It's a gorgeous laugh.

Roxas swallowed and kept his hands pressed down in his pocket scratching against the single thing he had with him, and kept his eyes trailed to the ground, letting his peripheral vision seek out the redhead. After another exhausting heave in the snow they were back on the main Road and the redhead stopped his murmurings and instead took up letting long vines of smoke tangle in the air. Roxas took this as his opportunity to let his eyes wander over the red-head's form once again. It must have been twenty degrees outside and yet his chest and back was bear. His black jeans hanging low on his hips before tucking into military styled tan combat boots. Every muscle on his back, covered in vines of scars, flexed with each movement as he jogged across the street to the convenience store. Roxas blinked as he quickly followed him, still a little dizzy. The blaring lights around him hurt his sensitive eyes as he squinted, the lights dimming slightly again. Roxas gulped scrunching his eyes again and the lights returned to their full power as he stumbled into the little store, not even aware of the dinging of a bell. His eyes briefly scanned the place. White tiled floors covered in sticky cleaner, shelves of bags of sugar and salt and fat, and maybe if he searched hard enough something healthy. In the back held liquids by the gallon, and it was then that he realized just how dry his mouth was or how much the back of his throat burned or the horrible filmy taste and feel that left lingering on his tongue. The cashier watched him lazily as he scuttled to the back and opened the fogged glass door. His eyes darted around the drinks, as if deciding on the overwhelming amount of liquids. His numb fingers reached out to a small bottle of water, closed the doors quickly, and then glanced around again, before nervously stuffing the bottle in his inner coat pocket. He glanced up to see the red-head's venomous eyes staring at him with amusement as his still shirtless form lent against the frozen doors, arms crossed. He wanted to let out a scream, but it got caught in his dry throat. He wasn't there before.

The red-head outstretched his arm, beckoning for Roxas to give him the drink with a single leather glove covered finger. Roxas sighed defeated and handed the stranger the bottle, expecting him to put it back in the cooler and make him leave, but instead he held it in his hand and walked away with it. He didn't even say a word, barely made eye contact with him, and yet Roxas was already infatuated with him. The same man who didn't have any human tendencies while confined to his cage, the same man who chard off another man's face with his bare hands. He blinked slowly at that thought; Trailing After the lanky man who was standing in front of a row of chips, bottle in hand and a pack of gum. I have to know him. The blonde tried his hardest to keep quiet and stay hidden, but his hopes were shot down when the red-head's silk voice settled in his ears, "Stalking is considered a perversion in many worlds." He didn't look up.

"I— sorry— just… how did you do it?" his voice was raspy and shaky, no matter how hard he tried to even his voice. There was no response to his question, not a blink of his eyes, not even the micro movement of tissue under his cut cheek, which had clotted over already. He merely walked away down another isle searching for what he needed, "I saw you… in the bar." To that the man let out a growl that was taken as a laugh. "You and that man; how did you do it? Why did you do it?" his voice was carrying in the stilled silence of the small convenience store. Nothing but a heavy sigh as the red-head scratched at his wounded cheek before he bent down to the box of doughnuts. "You burned off his face, you know? I just want to know how you did it." This sudden bluntness from the blonde caused the red-head to fumble with the items in his hand before he turned; poisonous green eyes burrowing into Roxas petrified blue one's, daring him to say something else.

"Fuck off." He growled baring his teeth again, before he turned and headed for the cash register. Roxas felt his whole body become paralyzed with those two simple words. He stood frozen in place letting that phrase fully settle in, wondering how and why the red-head seemed so threatening. Maybe it was the fact that with those words he had basically admitted that he had done it, and it was his entire fault, and no one was supposed to talk about it, and Roxas shouldn't have had the audacity to bring it back up. But he did; and now he was cautiously moving to the front, watching the red-head walk away, leaving the bottle of water paid for on the counter. The little bell dinged as he left and Roxas just had to follow him again, bottle in hand, not making eye contact with the tired cashier. He would thank him… possibly. Just a few feet away in the parking lot, just next to the same slot Roxas' previous trucker had abandoned him, was a little blue pickup truck, which had no doubt seen better days. It was littered in dents and paint eroded away with rust, and the red-head was opening the nearly crushed in door and heaving his belonging in the thing, before he placed a fresh cigarette to his lips, the tip glowing in the night air as soon as it came in contact with his swollen lower lip. This action relaxed him as he strolled away from his vehicle to the side of the building labeled 'restrooms.' Not paying any mind to the blonde gulping down the water until his stomach couldn't hold a single drop more, but the bottle was still half full. When will I ever eat again? The blonde frowned at his ever shrinking stomach.

Roxas waited there in front of the building for a moment longer before tip toeing to the best of his ability in six inches of snow to the baby blue truck. His fingertips brushed past the metal as he peered inside the bed of the truck. A grey tarp covered everything, and the blonde wasn't happy with it in the slightest. He pivoted to glance back at the 'restrooms' sign before he pulled it back; A wool blanket that looked to be very itchy a metal box below the back window and a few articles of clothing left to bear the weather. He let out a yawn, not realizing it until then, how incredibly tired he was. His whole being felt heavy and dense and his lids wouldn't stay up any longer. His gaze took a moment to focus on the watch around his wrist; 2:35 am. He pulled down his navy blue coat back to cover as much of his hands as he could, cover the stolen watch as well. If the trucker was going to kick him out, he was at least going to take something with him. He deserved it. And before he knew what he was doing, he was heaving himself over the edge and flopping down in the bed of the truck. It was warmer than he had expected, as he snuggled up to the itchy plaid wool blanket left there, and pulled the Tarp over all of him, sealing out the wind and the cold and even the snow that started falling again. Once cocooned inside he inhaled deeply; ashes and burnt out birthday candles, mint, grease and oil, and somewhere hidden under all that what was left of gun powder. For a moment he forgot about the what, where, and why he was and just let that smell comfort him, after all, he knew he was Warm and full to the brim with water, and safer than he would be if he had just stayed out in the unforgiving winter nights. He drifted in and out of consciousness as he was lulled to sleep with the rumbling of the truck as it pulled out of the parking lot.

I… just… I'm not proud of myself for starting yet another one, but it could be worse. I have three more outlined out the ass, and ready to go. And as much as I try to resist. I can't. I think it's because I have writer's block, or something. So bear with me.

Well, hope you enjoyed my starting of this.

Be sure you leave a review, or alert, or fav… or something. ;D