Oh boy, here we go; my first, proper multi-chaptered story! Aah, I'm only posting the prologue yet I'm something akin to a nervous wreck right now *sweatdrops*.

Anyway, as I've mentioned in the summary, this story is based on the One-Shot version of Pandora Hearts and it's about how Gil and Oz met and eventually teamed up. I highly suggest you read the One-Shot version first before reading this, because there are a few differences between it and the original PH (for example, a 'Chain' is called an 'Abyss' in the One-Shot and 'Pandora' is the heart of the 'Abyss'). So, it could be slightly confusing if you don't!

And so I present to you, the prologue!

Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Hearts or its One-Shot version. Of course, that includes the unnamed Nightray Uncle; I don't own him either, I simply named him for the sake of convenience XD

"So, who is it this time?" asked a dark voice.

A photograph was slid across the table. The slim, gloved fingers retracted to reveal a picture of a boy with long, blonde hair tied back in a loose braid and bright, emerald green eyes. The boy was smiling as he played with something not included in the picture, probably a pet. Judging by the expanse of green grass around him, he appeared to be in a garden. It was obvious that this photo was taken in secret, since the boy was staring down at whatever he was playing with rather than at the camera and the edges of the photo were obscured by what seemed to be leaves from a bush.

The owner of the voice, who was a tall man dressed in all-black, raised an eyebrow as his golden eyes scanned the photograph, momentarily wondering if this was some kind of mistake. When he saw no one else in the picture, he finally voiced his doubts.

"A boy?" he asked while raising an eyebrow; the incredulousness was evident in his voice. It was a rare emotion for someone like him. In fact, any emotion was rare for him.

People who killed on a regular basis were not very familiar with emotions.

He was currently in a small office adjoined to a warehouse in some obscure location of the city. Despite its size, it was furnished with antique, expensive furniture and fixtures such as polished rosewood tables, leather tall-back chairs and porcelain tea sets jammed into glass-door cabinets.

How typical of rich nobles; they brought their comfort and luxury with them no matter where they went.

"Oz Vessalius," said the man who had passed him the photograph. He had a deep, throaty kind of voice that slightly resembled rumbling thunder. "Heir to the Vessalius Dukedom," continued the man, "and he will be turning fifteen in two weeks."

The man in black clenched his fists in annoyance. If they went through the trouble of getting him a photograph, then a name was not necessary. The man disliked names. He preferred the term 'target'. Names made things more personal. It meant that the target had a conscience.

It meant that he was killing a living person.

Normally it was not a problem since his targets were usually old, filthy-rich men that did nothing but sin all their lives. The man was more than happy killing such people, since the world really could use less of them.

But this new target was young. Innocent. Free from sin. The man did not kill those that didn't do anything to deserve death. It was his policy, and these men knew it very well after the many jobs they had hired him for.

That was why the man was suddenly sceptical. Perhaps there was more to this boy than the picture was letting on. It was a universal truth that looks could be deceiving, and he certainly wasn't going to turn a blind eye to that fact. People who did so never lasted very long in this world.

So, with that thought in mind, the man in black wondered what exactly this boy did that earned him the undesirable status of 'doomed soul'.

"And you want him dead because...?" started the man, as he looked up from the picture and at the men before him. The one across him, Richard Nightray, was the only other person in the room sitting down. The other two were his nephews who stood sentinel on either side, silently observing the proceeding of things.

Richard propped his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together below his chin, before leaning forward slightly.

"Tell me. What do you know of the Vessalius Dukedom?"

The man took a moment to consider the question.

"Just the basics. They had been a fairly prestigious family in the past but after the Tragedy a hundred years ago, they quickly rose in status as one of the Four Great Dukedoms..."

Then it clicked.

"...And although the Nightrays are one of the Four as well, their reputation was severely damaged when they were accused by the Vessalius Household for helping their enemy."

Richard's fingers twitched.

"Exactly. And since then it has been the Nightray family's sworn duty to avenge our humiliated ancestors for being accused of a crime we did not commit." Then under his breath he muttered, "Now if only my blasted older brother would spare me the politics and do what must be done. Sometimes I wonder just how he gets by as our Duke.

"In other words, you have a score to settle but some people are reluctant to make any moves," clarified the man, who was sounding unhappier by the minute. Not that he ever sounded happy to begin with.

The elder Nightray nodded. "This boy is the only heir to the Vessalius Dukedom. In two weeks he will officially be recognised by society and thus he will formally start preparing to take over as the future Head."

Then his eyes narrowed. "However, we cannot allow that. There may never be such a golden opportunity ever again. In the past there were always multiple heir candidates so it would have been reckless to kill them all. But now there is only one son. The Duke's wife is dead and he won't re-marry no matter what due to grief. His brother went missing years ago, so there's no need to worry about him. That just leaves the boy as the only heir, and with his death there shall be no one to carry forward the Vessalius lineage.

Richard unlaced his fingers and, wearing a shamelessly malicious smirk, leaned back once more against the comfort of his luxury cushioned recline chair. "And so marks the eventual extinction of the great Vessalius Dukedom."

The man glared at Richard and simply said, "I don't kill the innocent. You know that."

For the first time that night, one of Richard's nephews spoke. Ernest Nightray was a young man with reasonably good looks, with his light-coloured hair pulled back into a ponytail and a beauty mark on his right cheek. Ernest seemed warm and inviting, which was why no one would ever suspect him of consorting with experienced killers such as the man in black.

He displayed his deceiving nature now as he smiled at the aforementioned man. But upon closer inspection, the smile had a sinister edge to it. "We knew you'd say that, but we weren't finished speaking yet." His voice was light and carefree which, again, added to his facade.

Now Richard's other nephew cleared his throat a bit, getting ready to speak. Claude Nightray had black hair that was slicked back as well as prominent sideburns, brown, glaring eyes and a strong jaw structure that made his face look all the more stern. Unlike Ernest, his appearance and true nature were not contradictory, but because he was Ernest's brother, no one would suspect him of anything shady either.

The man in black almost smiled at the irony of it because the Nightrays were generally infamous, no-thanks to the Vessaliuses. But maybe the latter were never wrong in their accusation; the fact that someone like him was working for the Nightrays, albeit in secret to the rest of the House's members, was enough to prove that the Nightrays were untrustworthy at every degree, going so far as to keeping dangerous secrets from their own family members.

"Lately there have been several reports of brutal murders taking place in this area. The victims all had one common trait, and that was a gaping wound usually found on their chests or backs, or in rare cases, going all the way through. In addition, a large area around the wound including its edges would be severely burnt. The killings were completely random however, so naturally as a safety measure we had our men scattered around the city to gather some intelligence."

At this point, Ernest took over again. "Most of them got killed, but one has managed to come back alive. It took days before he could recover enough from the shock to speak, but it was worth the wait because guess who the killer happened to be?" he asked, in a light, breezy tone that certainly did not suit such a question.

"The boy," answered the man automatically.

Richard nodded. "And that's all the reason you need. The boy is clearly a threat to society. I highly doubt that it'll happen in the first place but just in case the impossible happens and you do get sniffed out, our man will intervene as a bystander and swear an oath that it was the boy to justify your actions."

It only took the man in black a few seconds to notice the anomaly in this explanation. "But how is a mere boy able to pull off such brutal murders? Surely the public will raise that question."

"Oh yes," breathed Richard, as though he had just remembered something important. "Allow me to enlighten you, and this is going to support our case even more." He paused, taking a slow breath solely for the purpose of building tension, before exhaling and saying, "The boy is a Contractor."

The man in black stiffened.

"Our man saw it," he continued. "The boy was clearly possessed, spewing some nonsense about needing fresh blood, and behind him there was a large, distorted figure, most likely that of the Abyss he was possessed by. But that's all our man was able to tell us since he couldn't catch a proper glimpse of the Abyss."

Richard regarded the man with a knowing look. "Now do you understand why we approached you for this job?"

There was a long period of silence, after which the man in black abruptly stood up while pocketing the picture. Without another word, he tilted his black hat down so that it shadowed out his eyes and turned to leave.

Richard smirked.

"I take it that you can guarantee us success as usual, Mister Gilbert?"

The man in black paused to turn slightly and look over his shoulder at the mention of his name, tilting his head up a bit in the process to reveal his golden eyes that stared back, cold and unforgiving.

That was all the answer the three men needed.

Since the prologue was quite short, chapter 1 will be posted in about two or three days. On a random note, I've pretty much finished writing out the entire story. I just have to make a few adjustments and write an epilogue. Overall there should be about 9 chapters, including the prologue and epilogue.

Oh, as for Oz and his long hair; I know he doesn't have long hair in the One-Shot. It's just temporary (sort of) and there is a reason behind it by the way~ (No, he's not actually Jack or anything like that. Oz is Oz!)

Reviews are always appreciated!