Disclaimer: All names or persons that resemble certain characters of a certain Disney cartoon are purely coincidence. Regardless, I don't own Lilo & Stitch or its characters, or I'd violently and physically force the animators to draw new episodes. Enjoy!

Lilo & Johnny

Chapter One- A Moonlit Walk Through Blood and Jungle

It was a quiet night, the wind slowly rustling the trees in a faraway Bolivian rain forest. Overhead, the stars shone brilliantly in the clear sky, so innocent and perfect, but underneath lay a dark and ugly fortress of steel, concrete and barbed wire. It was an ominous building that was clearly constructed to keep the unwary out and terrible secrets in. Along the perimeter of the complex, several ragged and mean- looking soldiers stood guard holding cliché AK- 47s, watch for any disturbances in the green shadows beyond them. One soldier guarding the left corner leaned against the wall behind him, bringing a cigarette to his lips. He inhaled deeply and blew out a long stream of white smoke into the air. Suddenly the walkie- talkie on his shoulder buzzed to life.

"Sentry seven, sentry seven," it crackled in Spanish, "Any activity to report? I hope to God you're not asleep for your own sake, you bastard. Over,"

The guard reached for his walkie- talkie. "Sentry seven here, asking you to go to hell. Oh, and no activity to report, over," the guard smiled.

"General Juarez will surely be pissed if you're not doing your job like a good little boy," the voice warned.

"Fuck you. Over," the guard brought up the cigarette again, but before it reached his lips a silent bullet cut through the cloud of smoke surrounding him and lodged itself in his head. He jerked slightly, then hit the grass beneath him softly and motionless. A dark shadow slipped quickly passed his body and moved down the perimeter.

"Sentry seven? Sentry seven?" the radio asked.

Inside a small room with a window overlooking the entire premises and a wall chock full of electronic surveillance equipment, the chief of security waited impatiently for Sentry seven to report back. He had suddenly been cut off in mid- transmission. Camera surveillance showed nothing but the jungle. Worried, the security chief tapped the communication system again.

"Sentry fourteen, sentry fourteen, come in, over." he wiped his brow.

"This is Sentry fourteen, what is it? Over,"

"Sentry fourteen, I want you to check out Sentry seven's position next to you."

"Why? What's the mat-"

Sentry fourteen's radio was cut short.

"Sentry fourteen?" the chief called out.

He gulped, nervously. "Sentry nine, sentry nine, come in, tell me where are all the other sentries, over?"

"What are you talking about?" Sentry nine asked. "Aren't they where they—"sentry nine fell short.

"Sentry Nine?" the chief called. "Sentry five? Sentry eight? Sentry twenty?"

No one answered. The radio static blared on, and the chief could see nothing in the video screens. No disturbances, but no guards, either.

"Anyone?" he called out once more. "Attention all personnel, attention all personnel, this is a code-"

A bullet crashed through the window and into the chief's eye. He flew back against the wall, then hit the ground, dead.

A hundred yards from the guard's tower, lying in a small patch of brush, a shadow watched as the body of the security chief fell to the ground through his Steyr Scout rifle scope. A small earpiece receiver confirmed radio silence. The shadow pulled the bolt of the rifle and ejected the last shell, then silently moved along to the portion of the wall under the surveillance tower. Scanning the twenty- foot wall topped with barbed wire, the shadow threw a grappling hook over it and scaled it quickly with catlike reflexes, deftly flipping over the razor sharp wire and landing on the ground softly below. He continued on to a large military building ahead.

"Sir," a lowly soldier informed his leader in a small hut regretfully, "I think we have a problem."

The old general sitting in the wood desk in front of him with a burning cigar in his fist gave him a stony look. "You think?"

"Well, the sentries aren't reporting in, and the chief of security was saying something on the radio, but was cut off,"

"Damn cheap equipment," the general scoffed.

"No sir, the radio's working fine."

The general puffed on his cigar, never taking his eyes off the grunt.

"Did you check in on the security chief or the sentries yourself?"

The soldier almost shrunk away. "Uh..."

The general banged his other fist on the desk. "Stupid fool! What do I pay you for?! I should-"

Suddenly the lights went out in the hut.

"What the hell is happening?!" the general asked furiously.

The solider grabbed his walkie- talkie. "Calling all guards, calling all guards, is anyone out there?" radio static was all that was heard. "Anyone at all, come in!" when no one reported, the soldier looked at the general helplessly.

"You there!" the general barked at the group of soldiers in the corner of the hut. "Get out there and check it out!"

The soldiers hurried outside, fearing the general's wrath more than whatever was causing the trouble. They stood positioned around the general's hut, guns ready, but find nothing but the quiet grounds of the outpost with the jungle beyond and the stars overhead. A light wind blew threw the trees.

They looked at each other, puzzled. Silently and unseen, a few fragmentation grenades with pins drawn rolled across the dirt and to their feet. One hit the boot of a soldier, and he looked down.

"Qué-"

The grenades went off at the same time, blowing many soldiers away. The remaining men fired everywhere in shock, hitting trees and rocks alike.

Suddenly a figure clad in black popped up in a tree in front of them.

They turn their guns, about to fire, but he pulled two Colt .45 pistols out from his sides and fired rapidly. As they fired on him, he jumped off the tree, spun, and ran in a zigzag pattern across the ground, firing as bullets exploded around him. Every shot from his guns hit a soldier, and when they ran empty he threw them to the side and pulled out two more from his hips, killing more soldiers.

As the firefight went on outside, the general sat unbelieving behind his desk with the one soldier next to him cowering in fright. Soon, the air fell silent. They waited.

"What's going on out there?!" the general called out, but no one answered.

He grabbed the last soldier and shoved him in front if his body.

"You have to protect me!" he ordered.

The soldier broke away and ran out. "Screw you! I'm getting out of here, I'm getting out of here, I'm-"

His voice was cut short outside.

The general pulled a pistol out from behind his desk and cowered beneath the desk, watching. Suddenly, a shadow flew across the door. He raised the gun and fired at it, but missed. Another shadow across the window! Bang! More shadows across the windows! They surrounded him! He fired blindly around the hut until the gun clicked empty.

As soon as it did, a figure of relatively small stature dressed in black appeared in the doorway. He slowly walked in and towards the general, who shook as the figure, however short, loomed over him.

"How did you defeat... how did you..." the general paused in disbelief as the figure pulled out one of his pistols.

"W-w-who sent you?" the general stuttered. "The Bolivian government? One of the druglords? The Americans?"

The silent figure raised his pistol, cocked the hammer back, and aimed it at the general.

He looked up, confused. "Who are you?"

The figure, face hidden by a black ski mask and dark goggles, replied softly.

"Meega nala kwista."

A lone shot rang throughout the outpost grounds and into the surrounding jungle.

The black clad figure walked out of the hut into the night. He sighed, then pulled off his goggles and his ski mask. As his disguise came off his face was revealed to be that of a young sixteen- year- old boy with pitch- black pupils and equally black and wild hair, hair so dark that in the moonlight it almost looked streaked with blue.

"How was that?" he asked the tree next to him in Russian.

A heavyset man dressed in camouflage with a black bulletproof vest, a SIG 552 rifle slung over his shoulder, balding grey hair, and thick glasses stepped out from the tree's shadow and gave a little clap.

"Very nice. A lot better than your last mission in Somalia. Your tactics are top notch, but your stealth needs more work." The man suggested in Russian, too. "I liked the cursing at the end. Stylish,"

"Just wanted General Juarez to know the consequences of screwing Mother Russia on weapons payment." The boy looked at the man. "And if there's anything wrong with me then you're to blame, Dr. Jookiba."

"What are you saying? Did you or did you not compromise your identity by taking off your mask right now?"

"Look around, Jumba. Everyone is dead," the boy replied.

Jumba Jookiba laughed. "Ah yes, you are correct. Very good, 626."

The boy bowed in a mock gesture. "Thank you, master."

"Now come," Jumba Jookiba walked off towards the jungle outside, "We have things to do."

The boy code- named 626 looked around, and grinned viciously.

"Yes, sir," he answered, then followed Jumba into the shadow of the stars.

Well, hoped you liked that. A different twist on the Lilo & Stitch story, inspired by Hawk the Azapper's "STITCH!" It's just beginning, so stick around. It gets more romantic and teen drama-y when we get to the other characters. Oh, and I know that "Meega nala kwista" is not Russian, but I like it, so screw me. Please review before you do, though.