yayyayaya first chappie of the new and improved version\(^o^)/ Except it's exactly like the old version..XDD

Ughh I'll get to the good stuff sometime...

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Chapter 1: The Start

2000      

“Sir, there’s someone in the system!” a frazzled worker called to Nikita.

                “What do you mean?” he growled in return.

                “I—I don’t know. The computer isn’t encrypted at all. There’s no security, and he’s not doing anything to us. He’s just—there! Clicking on folders, reading documents. No attempts to save or destroy anything,” he sputtered.

                Nikita spewed a string of curses under his breath, standing up and following the worker through the intricate layout of the building Nikita had created; the empire that he had built. “Get into the webcam,” he barked at the frantic workers that were huddled around the elaborate tech room.

                “This computer is ancient—“

                “Is. There. A webcam?” Nikita hissed.

                The worker numbly nodded and with a few select taps onto the keyboard they were logged into the computer, able to see the room through the webcam.

                “What…the hell…?”

+++

2001

                “Sweetie, this is Mr. Korol. He’s here to adopt you,” Jamie told the small girl, her big brown eyes framed by wispy black hair.

                The man looked entirely frightening; a jagged scar ran through his right eye down to his jaw, a tattoo peeked out from his neck, and he was decked out in all black. But despite all of that, he had passed all tests and forms for adoption and was taking this girl home. Tonight.

                “Hi,” she whispered.

                He smiled, and the girl wasn’t afraid. Even when he had on a hard expression she hadn’t found him very intimidating. With a thick Russian accent he greeted her back in English. “Hello, I think very much that you will like the home in Russia.” With that he grabbed her extended hand and left the orphanage, taking the girl’s small suitcase from her as they exited the lonely New York orphanage.

They walked in silence for a few blocks, until he turned to her; “Kira; do you like that name?”

                “Ki…ra?” she asked tentatively.

                “Yes, Dear, it means “Dark.” A good name like that will keep people from taking advantage of you. That will be your name. You will be Kira Korol, my daughter.”

                And I guess that was the start. That was where Kira Korol was born. Even though I had been alive for 8 years before that, my life restarted that day. As it did today.

                “Papa,” I rasped into the phone. “Papa, Papa…”

                “Kira, Kira, Kira, my Sweet Dear, where are you? How are you? Who has you?”

                “I don’t know. I’m still in Moscow. Some boy found me. He doesn’t know, though. I know he doesn’t.” I had woken up a few hours ago, my whole body aching. My broken jaw was poorly set, my cuts were definitely going to scar, my ribs weren’t done healing, and my whole body was covered in bruises and wounds. I had noticed a boy in the kitchen; the one I vaguely remembered saving me and nursing me back to health and whom I had talked with briefly, or, maybe that part was a dream, anyways, I had slipped out before he came to check on me again. Outside I bought a disposable cell phone and called my father.

                “Get home, Kira. Get home now. Do you need help?”

                “No,” I responded, sure I didn’t. “I’ll be home shortly.” Home. I couldn’t wait. I hung up, dropped the phone into the trashcan I was passing and started the walk. I glanced back at the apartment where I had spent who-knows-how-long being nursed back to health by that boy.

                A girl hurried past me, talking on her phone. “Yes, I’m almost there. I can see the building. Bye, Hyunnie see you soon.”

                I cleared my head as I saw a man get off his motorcycle and tuck his keys hurriedly into his vest. Perfect, I thought, seeing him come my way.

                “Oh! I’m sorry!” I gasped as we collided. “I’m so sorry. So sorry!”

                “Watch it,” he growled, the Regal tattoo just visible on his neck.

                As he passed I smirked, twirling the keys on my finger. Regal bastard deserved it, I thought contentedly as I reached his motorcycle. I slid the key into the ignition and in a second I was off, speeding down the road back home.