Genre: General Rating: T+/PG-13 (and one or two implications) Notes: Originally an Extra Chapter from TTR, but it can stand on its own without any problems. My version of how they all became Nobodies and WHY they have a certain element, as well as a hinting of what their past lives were. Names are censored out (yes even the seven known names) because not all official names have been released (and who knows when that will EVER be). Any feedback would be great. Enjoy. XIII Last Moments --------------------------------------------- The First Impure Mind X----- stood within the mass of metal that was the basement lab. Radiant Garden was crumbling from the sheer force of the darkness that was suffocating the once peaceful world. There were screams of fear and death coming from all directions. But it didn't matter to him. It was...a success....for a split second. He was left dazed by the overwhelming euphoria of something so magnificent succeeding that he no longer recognized how hopelessly the following backlash of failure was consuming the world. Black creatures with empty eyes of yellow were swarming over the land like a plague- devastating all that they touched with their claws. The sky had split into a void of black; the ground broke open like great earthen maws of darkness. More of the creatures were raining down from the sky and crawling up from the depths of what was most likely hell. X----- took no notice. He continued to look upon the pulsating darkness that surrounded his machine. The machine that spawned the darkness. Darkness that began to wrap itself around him. He remained motionless as it crawled up his standing body. He gave a final laugh as the tendrils encased him completely. 'I beat you.' It was his last thought as he disappeared into the ground. X----- awoke to find himself facedown on a cold and metal floor. He pushed himself up painfully and looked around only to find that he was alone. He suddenly began to search over his body. Having not found any of the marks he was looking for, he placed a steady hand over his chest. There was nothing. He knew what he had become from studying the theories of his teacher- what was that man's name again? 'No heart. Non-Existent Ones don't have one.' He was on the other side this time. 'You don't have a heart anymore Xemnas.' The name echoed in his thoughts. He felt it wasn't his name, but he couldn't recall the reason why it wasn't. He didn't seem to mind after thinking on it though. The name suited him perfectly. --------------------------------------------- The Second Broken Bullet The structure was going to give out soon and X----- knew it. He was running down the halls, occasionally clipping the corner of a wall that came up too fast. The right side of his face was bleeding profusely. The lack of depth perception as well as the right half of his vision was beginning to have its toll on him. -It was suiting payback for all that he and his colleagues did to meddle with the forces of darkness. A clawed hand sprouted out of the wall and cut deeply into his face. What was with those things and attacking his face? He kept on running. Solely adrenaline was keeping the pain at bay. More dark limbs were beginning to sprout out of the walls, all more desperate to grab at him then that last. He took a turn to what he remembered was an exit. There was the outside. X----- began to sprint as hard as could...15 feet away.....10..... The upper levels crashed down in front of the door. His feet screeched to a halt, he forced himself to turn around. All he saw were corridors steeped in writhing black limbs. He held up the gun he had been carrying with him and aimed it at the darkness. Click. No bullets in the chamber. 'Typical.' He laughed under his breath. 'No use regretting it right?' The darkness leapt at him and swallowed him. X----- cracked open his eye hesitantly. He was on his back on an unfamiliar and relatively frigid floor, staring up at a foreign starry sky. He heard footsteps approaching him, but he didn't feel like turning to them. The steps stopped next to him, and the person knelt down to his side. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a man with grey hair and tanned skin. He felt like he knew this person, but their identity seemed to escape his mental grasp. The voice was quiet, "What is your name," it asked. X-----'s eyebrows furrowed in thought. He opened his mouth, at first no words came out. "...Xigbar." He said each sound slowly, it was the first time he had said it. Despite the feeling, deep down he knew the name was his. --------------------------------------------- The Third Crooked Windmill The wind was whipping at his face wildly from all directions. He had managed to reach the roof of the highest building in all of Radiant Garden. He should have expected that he would be trapped there, but he ran up anyway. His cowardice had made him weak; it had made him irrational. X----- supposed it was the consequences for making such a mistake, to be surrounded by these alien creatures, forced into a corner and defenseless. He looked down at the pipe that was in his hand. Despite having a weapon, it did him little good; it had proved to be essentially ineffective against his assailants. Who were now twitching in excited anticipation around him. The circle was closing ever smaller around him, like a pack moving in for the kill. One made a lunge at his leg and he luckily dodged. It ran off the edge and off the building, hurtling towards the ground below. That one was surely dead from falling at such a height. X----- debated whether or not he should follow it. He was going to die either way. He peered over the edge again. Suicide, or death by the hands of these monsters. It was a difficult choice. He made his choice too late. One had already latched onto his torso, the others were grabbing onto him and dragging him down into a pit of rising shadows. He beat at them wildly, staving off some but not the majority. 'See what happens when you let emotion rule your actions? You pay the price.' The voice in his head chanted. He stopped struggling against them. The pipe clattered to the ground. In the next life, he wasn't going to make the same mistake. Death seemed rather calm as he regained consciousness. He took a chance to see what the afterlife looked like as he opened his eyes. His vision was greeted by a dark sky filled with stars. He struggled to sit up. He looked at his hands and flexed them to test how tangible the experience he felt was. A voice called out to him, "Hey!" Running footsteps. A man with black hair streaked with white stood above him. "Name's Xigbar." He held out his hand. X----- stared at it before taking it. Xigbar pulled him up to his feet. "What's yours," he asked. X----- dusted himself off before responding. "Xaldin," he answered without hesitation. Xigbar laughed and slapped him on the back. "Welcome to the club." --------------------------------------------- The Fourth Shattered Glacier Various vials and beakers clanked together in the box as --x-- dashed down the halls. It was oddly quiet, but it didn't concern him. He was going to be late to the lab activity if he didn't hurry. He finally arrived at the door. He held the box as if it were a baby even though he panted heavily to catch his breath. With a shaky hand he grabbed the doorknob and turned it. He was met with a dark room. He gave an irritated groan and groped around the interior of the doorframe for the light switch. Having found it, he clicked it on. The room was empty. --x-- was puzzled, there was usually at least someone here or at least in the conjoining storage room. Had the experiment been rescheduled without him being notified? He frowned bitterly at the thought of being ignored by his peers. With a forlorn sigh he stepped in, closing the door behind him and setting his box of containers down on the nearest lab table. He ran a hand through his now tousled and sweat-dampened hair to smooth it out. With a click of his tongue he noticed how dry his mouth felt. His eyes immediately fell on what appeared to be a cooler in the back of the room. Upon opening it he discovered that the box was full of assorted drinks. All of them appeared to be sodas of one flavor or another. After inspecting each of their dietary labels carefully and comparing artificial flavorings, he settled on drinking one that claimed to taste like 'mountain mist with a hint of lime'. He cringed at how sugary and frozen it tasted on his tongue. At least his thirst was satisfied. He finished the bottle and tossed it into the appropriate waste bin. Without a second thought he began to unpack his experiment. He was going to proceed whether his fellow researchers were present or not. After carefully transferring the last vial onto the table he heard a distinct clink from the trashcan. --x-- spared it an inquisitive look before resuming his equipment's setup. CLINK. --x-- was becoming irritated by the persistent sound. It was probably some escaped lab rat that was running around in the trashcan. He glared into the trashcan. A pair of yellow ones stared back at him. He gave a loud yell as the creature latched onto his face. He crashed backwards onto the floor from the sudden force and additional weight. He clawed at the infernal thing, he couldn't breathe... --x-- woke up with a jolt and startled yelp. He soon regretted the action as aches ran over his body. He hugged his shoulders to try and ease the soreness. The pain distracted him so much that he didn't even notice how a man was now standing over him. "I see more are arriving...what would your name be," the voice half-mused and muttered. --x-- turned his head to face the voice, the pain suddenly not affecting him as much. "It's Vexen." The response was automatic, it felt awkward to say, but his mind confirmed it was correct. "-And who might you be?" Vexen attempted to get off the floor but his joints refused to support his weight. The man sighed, "Xaldin." He placed his hands on Vexen's shoulders and hoisted him up to a standing position. The blond's knees were still too unsteady to support him so he leaned on Xaldin's arm to walk. The black-haired man patiently led him towards a massive building of white and grey. --------------------------------------------- The Fifth Cracked Boulder He had managed to gather them all up into a group, or at least what people were left that could be considered survivors. Chaos was everywhere; it was only a matter of time before more would be lost to it. They all watched from a rocky plateau as darkness engulfed what was once Radiant Garden. Behind him he heard some of them sobbing for loved ones. He wanted to mourn those he lost as well, but now was not the time nor did he have any right. He was part of the reason such an event transpired... Keeping himself as calm as possible --x---- turned to face them and tried to direct them to a possible means of escape. These people were never meant to be involved, the least he could do was give them hope, even if it was nothing more than a lie. "If we can make it to the launch pad we might be able to seek refuge on--" his sentence was interrupted as a gnarled claw of pitch black reached up and snatched a young woman from the group. She screamed as she was dragged under, her cries being cut off abruptly as she disappeared. The others panicked and were soon snatched up by the claws as well. They all died in similar ways, the only differences being that some sobbed while others shrieked for mercy from God. --x---- tried to save them, but they all slipped out of his grasp in the end. The last one's hand sunk into the ground, he stared sadly at where it disappeared. He was the only one left. Shadowy talons emerged from the ground, in his rage he tried to pull the dammed things out. He managed to break off one of the arms. The shriveling stump went slack before shaking violently and splitting into two. He continued to tear at the wretched claws. With each arm tore out, more took its place. Soon a swirling mass of grabbing arms was all that surrounded him. They latched onto his arms and legs. He struggled with all his strength against them but to no avail. He let out a anguished scream as he was dragged beneath the surface. He found himself in an immensely different place. He got up unsteadily on his feet, legs nearly buckling as he tried to take a step forward. His vision was blurry. He blinked as he tried to readjust his sight. He felt a tap on his shoulder. He glanced down to the blond man who was next to him. The blond man cleared his throat and gave a small bow before speaking, "Welcome. Please refer to me as Vexen." He took steps forward and waved his hand behind him for --x---- to accompany him. "Follow me, all will be explained- ah yes, what was your name?" He glanced back to the newcomer. "Lexaeus." "Right then, Lexaeus, follow me. We have much to discuss with the others." --------------------------------------------- The Sixth Corroded Darkness --x--- thought that a change of routine would have brought about interesting results. Instead of going to the Chemistry Labs, he decided to visit the Heart Labs. He had been cheerfully walking down the halls, clipboard in hand, pencil all too eager to write down data. He was so lucky compared to the others. He had been the youngest researcher to ever become apprenticed to Radiant Garden's majesty. He was infinitely proud of the fact and rarely hid it. But today was the day he sincerely regretting being called a prodigy. Even more that he was partly responsible for it. Something went terribly astray in the labs. He had abandoned his fellow scientist, whom he had tried to snap out of whatever trance the older man was trapped in. Ultimately, the man refused to move. --x--- had done what he could to save his friend's life; his own survival came at a slightly higher priority. If the man wanted to die he wasn't going to stop him. He was sprinting down the halls as fast as he could, barely keeping ahead of the creatures that hungered after his heart. Turning the corner, he finally arrived at the room where he could possibly find sanctuary. He hastily punched in the numbers on the pad. The door opened and he threw himself inside. In his hysteria he crashed into the control panel before being able to input a command. The doors shut tightly and the lights brightened to an almost blinding intensity. The darkness gave a dying cry as the light incinerated it. With a relieved sigh --x--- slid down to the floor and tried to catch his breath. Even his own eyes were closed against how intense the lights were. 'Lets see the bastards try and get through that.' He gave a breathless laugh at the thought. He placed a hand on his head in relief and to wipe away the sweat, but his arm didn't feel like moving. He continued to sit there, thinking a thousand incoherent thoughts. He wasn't supposed to be afraid of the darkness he encouraged. He wasn't even supposed to be in that room. He of all people never would have thought that the codes he had broken for the door would one day save him. Even more ironic was how 'accidentally hacking' into the computer in the earlier weeks was what was saving his sorry hide today. His head slumped to the side; now that the danger was at bay, he was suddenly feeling very tired. He knew he shouldn't have been falling asleep at a moment like that, but his mind had already shut off. The sound of chittering woke him from his sleep. He clamped his eyes shut; the lights were still on as far as he could tell from the faint glow through his eyelids. The rhythm of the sound was picking up in pace, he heard a crackle and the lights clicking off. He opened an eye to see what was going on only to be blinded as the lights overloaded. Sounds of shattering glass and the door being ripped open overcame his hearing. --x---- snapped his eyes open as he scrambled to his feet and up to the control panel. The room was completely devoid of light. He blindly typed codes in vain, none of them worked. In his attempt to escape he tried to run, but something made him trip and he fell onto the shards of the broken bulbs. He could feel the floor becoming slick with his blood. He wanted to get up, but he felt so heavy. He began crawling to where he thought the door was. He felt the familiar rivets that the door slid into, and looked up. Golden eyes looked back at him in the darkness. He tried to let out a scream, but no sound came out. He tried to run but he could not move. All he saw was an abyss filled with yellow orbs that stared emptily at him. He didn't even feel himself sinking into the floor. The next thing he felt was a slight undulating motion. He opened his eyes painfully, he could only see out of the left one for some reason. Waves of nausea washed over him as he tried to get his bearings. From what he could see, a well-built man with orange-red hair was carrying him on his back. He attempted to speak, but his words seemed to fail him. The man carrying him seemed to notice that he was awake. "Do you have a name? Mine is Lexaeus." --x---- searched his tired mind. The only name he seemed to able to come up with was, "Zexion." He was barely able to say it. A pause. "Go back to sleep. You need it." The feeling of drowsiness was beginning to overwhelm him again. He closed his eyes. Lexaeus continued carrying him up the building of twisted steel. --------------------------------------------- The Seventh Imperfect Moon They had thought of him as insane; a man with adequate intelligence but no sanity to back it up. ---x was grinning to himself as he drove down the road. It was a full moon tonight, and he had been driving for hours; he was on a mission to restore his dignity. In the passenger's seat next to him was a folder, one that represented his metaphorical life or death. Inside the folder was the data he needed to prove his astronomical theory; that within the shadow of the moon was a second smaller one orbiting it. It was only visible during full moons and at ungodly hours. But he finally had his proof, and that was all that mattered. Now they had no reason to shun him and his theories. Evidence spoke louder than words, and with the amount he had gathered, it was more than enough to shut his 'colleagues' up for good. He was going to slap the folder into their smug faces, dance on the graves of their freshly killed pride and then go out for a well deserved steak dinner. He chuckled to himself at the imagery. An alarming BUMP snapped him out of his mental revelry. ---x dug his foot into the brakes and the car came to a screeching halt. He jumped out of the car, flashlight in hand. 'That had better been a speed bump' he thought to himself. He pointed the flashlight towards where he thought he ran over...whatever it was he hit. There was nothing. He scratched his head in bewilderment. 'Maybe I should take a power-nap...NO. I have a MISSION.' Having concluded his own debate, he made his way back to the car and resumed his driving. The trip remained uneventful; the moon had hidden behind a cloud as the night wore on. He was rapidly approaching his destination, '20 miles - Observatory' a recent sign had told him. 'Smooth sailing from here- OH SHI-!' He veered off the road to avoid a biker who was driving on the wrong side of the street. The action resulted in his car ramming itself into a tree. ---x cursed about how next time he would 'just mow down the idiot' into the deployed airbag. He picked up his folder, flashlight and valuables before proceeding to walk down the road. Hopefully he would run into a phone booth or a kind driver who would let him hitchhike. Some time later he was beginning to brood about how 'if I ever find that damn biker, I'll flay him alive for this'. He heard a branch snap; he dismissed it as the local wildlife just minding its own business. He began to panic when he felt something breathing down his neck. He turned around and came face to face with what seemed like small glowing bulbs attached to a blob of pulsating ink. He swatted at it out of reflex. His hand seemed to go straight through it. ---x gave a yell before making a break for the road. The thing tackled him to the ground. The flashlight and folder were knocked out of his hands. He reached out desperately for anything that could possibly help him; the thing that was attacking him seemed to be reaching into his organs and clenching them. ---x his breaths came out as labored gasps, he felt the life being squeezed out of him. He was pulling himself towards where the folder and flashlight had landed, his attacker seemed to notice the action and grabbed onto his face with its icy nails and dug them in deeply. He wretched his face out of its' grasp with a sickening tear. He ignored the blood streaming down his face and frantically snatched at whatever was in front of him. His fingers brushed against the folder's edge. The creature found whatever it was searching for and with a sharp twist wretched it out of his body. ---x froze and his body went limp, hand still outstretched to the collection of papers. His body disappeared in a wisp of darkness as did the creature. The moon reappeared from behind the clouds and shone palely down on the folder and flashlight left on the road. Xemnas had been exploring the castle at the time when he first saw a blue haired man form out of nothing. He had seen it happen before, so it didn't surprise him anymore. The newly formed man's hand was extended in front of him, as though trying to reach desperately at something. The blue haired man remained motionless as Xemnas stepped towards him. He knelt done to his side and attempted to determine if he was alive. But before he could even touch him, a moan came from the body. "So you're alive after all." Xemnas mused aloud. The blue haired man continued groping in front of him at something invisible. "Where is it..?" a dry whisper of a question. "Where is what?" He stopped grabbing at the air and slowly craned his head up at Xemnas, "-Who are you?" "I know that I'm Xemnas, do you know who you are?" "I think I'm Saix." --------------------------------------------- The Eighth Expired Candle Some dare that turned out to be. One second she was telling the other girl she would be too scared and the next she was being dared herself to go into the 'spooky forest'. Now he was the one with his hand holding hers as he toted her back to the cabins. She was shivering in silent fear against him, her hand wrapped around his for dear life. He laughed. -x-- never quite understood why some of the kids acted like this. Pretending to be tough only to shrink down into a ball of childish fear as soon as it was dark. Then again, they were children. He was using a crude torch made out of a dead branch and oily cloth as a light through the forest due to the urgency of her crying. The girl currently clinging to him like a barnacle was the one he had especially told not to wander into the forest after dark. So much for that advice. Kids never wanted to listen to their elders it seemed. Or at least not to the camp counselors; himself being one of those counselors despite his young age. -x-- never liked being thought of as one of the 'authority' figures and he often forgot it; he was rarely as strict or 'authoritative' as he should have been. Because of that, some of the other counselors didn't like him. Some would even go so far as to hate him. He could have personally cared less. He was -x--, and whatever people thought of him, he wouldn't bother to change it. The dislike was mutual as far as he knew... Lights began to appear through the darkened leaves of the forest, the familiar camp torches could be made out from the distance they were at. The girl had calmed down considerably at the sight of the camp. When they finally arrived at her cabin -x-- shooed her inside. She asked him if she could tell him a secret. He kneeled down curiously, kids and their secrets. She pecked a kiss onto his forehead before sheepishly retreating behind the cabin door. He blinked at the door and then smiled to himself. Heh, kids. With an exaggerated yawn, he decided it was time for him to sleep too. Little munchkins would probably be up early in the morning. Summer camps were like that. -x-- woke up suddenly, his heart racing. The nightmare had been that the camp was under attack. He calmed himself and closed his eyes to get back to sleep. A shrill scream reverberated throughout the camp. He bolted out of bed and out the door. Only grabbing his nearly burnt out torch from earlier on the way out. Racing to the closest cabin he checked through all the windows, he couldn't see anything. Screams were still ringing in his ears as he tried to break down the door. The screams suddenly stopped. The thick maple door finally crashed open. His eyes darted around frantically. There appeared to be no one in the cabin. 'What the hell?' He looked under the covers of the closest bed. Nope. He checked the upper bunk. Still no one. He noticed a shivering lump under the cornermost bunk's sheets. He carefully lifted the covers up. The girl from earlier was under them. With a quivering hand she pointed behind him. He immediately swung the torch around and connected with something that let out a snarl. He had grabbed the girl and was now running through the forest. His shirt was becoming soaked from the girl's tears and his sweat as he ran. He could hear the snarls of whatever was following them getting louder and louder. Soon it sounded like it was right next to his ear. He looked down to where the girl had been. A mass of shadows looked up at him with golden eyes. It seemed to reach into him and pull out something with little effort. The torch he was holding dropped to the ground. -x--'s crashed to his knees then onto his face. His body disintegrated into the air as the last embers of the torch were snuffed out. His eyes snapped open and he bolted to his feet from where he lay. A blue haired boy who was sitting down nearby looked up at him from his metal puzzle. His only visible eye widened curiously, "And you are..?" Confusion was all over his face, and then it was replaced with a warm smile, "The name's Axel. Nice to meet you." He held out a hand to him. He held it there even though it was painful to stand. The blue haired boy made no move to take it as he got up from his seat on the ground. He had returned his attention back to his metal trinket. "Right. Well, shall we leave then?" He turned from Axel, fiddling with his puzzle as he began to take slow steps away. Axel quickly retracted the offered hand and timidly scratched behind his head. "So who are you anyway?" He laughed nervously. The boy stopped and spoke without facing him. "I am Zexion. The others want to meet you as well, Axel." He continued walking. "Others?" Axel hop-stepped after the retreating figure of Zexion. --------------------------------------------- The Ninth Contaminated Lake Blue skies, clear water and the freshest air in the world. Nothing was more relaxing to him then a nap in the boat. He scrunched his bucket hat down over his eyes and let the rocking motion of the boat carry him off to sleep. The days in this world were lazy; ----x loved every second of them. He had come to the lake under the pretense of fishing, but he never cared much for it; yet he always left out a baited rod. Even if he never caught a fish, he was perfectly content with just lolling around on the boat. Peace and quiet, he kept them and they kept him, they were like old friends in that sense. ----x didn't know how many hours he had been napping on the lake, but by the time he woke up it was already the orange-red sky of late afternoon. With a sigh he began to prep the boat to return home. 'Home' was boring in the summer. There was literally nothing for him or his older brother to do, and when his older brother was bored he would usually yell at ----x for no reason. The lake never did that to him, it was the reason why he loved it so much. Year-round the lake always had something to offer him. The lake was alive; the house he lived in was not. He shoved his hat into his pocket so he could pull up the anchor, his hand brushing past the harmonica already resting inside. That was another thing he loved about the lake. He could play any instrument he wanted as much as he liked. His older brother always said he was terrible at it, and ----x argued that the only way he could get better was with practice. The remark led to rakes and other gardening tools being thrown at him. So he only practiced whenever he was out on the lake; far away from the sharp projectiles and his evil sibling. With his forearm he wiped the sweat off his face after pulling up the anchor. He stepped towards the leaning fishing pole that hung slackly over the side of the boat. 'Hahaha, record still stands at zero fish then.' He started to draw in the line with a smile. Interestingly the line didn't seem to want to be retracted. He pouted at the stubborn line and gave it a harder tug. It refused to obey. ----x pulled as hard as he could and nearly fell off the boat as it came loose. A shimmering and black fish he'd never seen before flopped helplessly onto the boat. It struggled violently before suddenly laying perfectly still on the deck. He looked at it curiously, and neared a poking finger to jab into its side. It hopped up and bit him sharply on the hand. He let out a pained cry and tossed it overboard. He squeezed his hand tightly to get the bleeding to stop; he cast an angry glare to where he had thrown it. Violent bubbles were beginning to form where it had landed. He took that as a sign to get the hell out of there. With desperate tugs the motor sputtered to life. The boat sped away from the rapidly spawning multitudes of leaping and biting creatures. The wooden boat zoomed past other empty vessels, ----x didn't get why they were without people... He turned his head to face the raging mass of foam and black teeth trailing his boat. Shore was steadily approaching; he wasn't planning on slowing down when he landed. Something rammed into the side of the boat with enough force to nearly knock him into the water, he shakily regained his balance. He risked a look over the edge, from what he could see, a large black creature was swimming alongside the vessel. He took a fearful gulp. The next time it hit the boat ----x was sent flying through the air and he crashed into the water. His soaked head bobbed above the surface and he began to paddle as fast as he could towards the shore. A thorny tentacle wrapped itself around his leg and he was dragged under the water. He could see the bubbles of his panicked breath escaping to the surface, the light above filtering down to almost nothing as he stared helplessly up. A stab through the chest and he blacked out. He lurched forward and gave a dry heave. Through burning coughs he looked around. He wondered how he ended up in the seemingly empty world. He saw someone with blond hair through his watery eyes. He distinctly heard them scoff as they approached him. "I swear more of you sprouting up each day. What is your name?" He cough-laughed at how stern the voice sounded. He managed to choke out a reply, "D-Demyx." Demyx hit his own chest a few times and the coughs finally stopped. "So who are you old man?" He beamed despite the older blond's sour expression to the comment. "Old man? I am Vexen. Now let me offer you a piece of valuable advice. Respect your superiors and know your place BOY." Vexen stabbed a gloved finger sharply into Demyx's chest to stress the last word before stalking off. Demyx followed the older man with springy steps. "So where are you going Vexen?" he asked cheerfully. "To my precious labs," came the harsh reply. The smile grew bigger. "Sounds like fun. Can I come with you?" Vexen didn't respond and muttered curses to himself. Demyx continued to smile at Vexen. --------------------------------------------- The Tenth Corrupted Eternity Dinner parties were either entertaining or boring, there was no such thing as a middle ground when it came to classifying it. --x--- stared down at the glass of lukewarm wine in his hand. This was a dinner party that disinterested him severely. There was absolutely nothing redeeming about the occasion. He downed the contents of the glass without hesitation and started heading back to the bartender. The bartender and him were going to become the best of friends during this lackluster 'celebration'. He wasn't particularly paying attention as he was walking; now he was wishing he had. He took a small step back from the soft impact; his tuxedo was beginning to feel rather soaked. The smell of alcohol wafted up to his nostrils. "OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY!" A young lady was beginning to wildly scrub at the wine stain. --x--- would have rolled his eyes at the foolish woman if she wasn't so pleasantly endowed....and pathetic. He caught her scrubbing hand and clasped it tenderly in his own. "No need to dirty your delicate hands my lady," he added a gentle kiss on her hand for effect. Now his poor tuxedo wouldn't have to suffer further from her appalling attempt at 'cleaning'. The young woman blushed a deep red as she tried to hide her face behind her other hand. He gave her a practiced 'genuine smile' before giving a small bow and walking off to the gardens. A group of women surrounded the blushing one and began to giggle and gossip ecstatically behind him as he exited the hall. Aristocratic women were so ignorant. He had wandered into what seemed to have been the center of the garden. Amidst the exotic blossoms and greenery he had found a marble bench located next to an elegant fountain. He had removed his wine stained jacket to reveal a well-sized splotch of red on his white shirt. He was picking out the specks of the napkin that had encrusted onto the outer shirt. It was common sense that cleaning out a stain did not, at any point involve a paper napkin dabbed in water; however, people like her didn't have much supply of sense for any matter. After the last stiff shred of the paper was picked out, he laid the jacket out on the bench to "dry". As he waited he dug into his pocket for cigarettes. The box emerged, he extracted a cigarette and the package returned back to his pocket. He knew smoking was terrible for his health, but so was boredom. He chose the lesser of two evils and began to search for his lighter. A rustle of the plants' leaves told him someone was either eloping 'secretly' with someone else or that someone was coming to bother him. He shoved the unlit cigarette under his jacket and pretended to be admiring the botany of the garden. "I'm extremely sorry about dirtying your shirt-." He wasn't surprised that the woman from earlier would be the one bothering him now. And he had been looking forward to a smoke and lung-cancer filled evening... Unfortunately, he had appearances to keep up. He slipped on a chivalrous mask before facing her. "Do not let it trouble you. It's trivial really," he waved his hand in a dismissed manner. Even though deep down it irked him to no end. He could see her that bottom lip was beginning to curl pathetically; he really didn't have the patience to deal with the theatrics of the so-called 'civilized upper class'. The conversation continued for the sake of avoiding the unnecessary waterworks. "Truth be told, I was smitten-," 'If by smitten it meant zoning out due to lack of interest, then I was indeed, deeply smitten.' "-by your unmitigated beauty." He caressed her face with his hand as he spoke the false compliment. 'Beauty? All that is really unmitigated about you is how inappropriately sized your bosom is.' "Really? Oh my..." The 'refined' were easy to manipulate with elaborate words. "Really. I believe the only way I can express it fully is with a gift- but you must close your eyes while I fetch it. Will you wait for my return my lovely buttercup?" She shut her eyes and nodded her head energetically. --x--- quietly picked up his belongings and left. He never returned to the garden. On top of the residence's clock tower, --x--- was perched on the building's overhang and was taking deep drags from his lit cigarette. Steady clouds of acrid smoke blew out of his mouth. The gears of the massive time-keeper moved accordingly behind him. He looked down at the clock face. It was nearly ten at night. His eyes followed the thin third hand that measured seconds run around the clock's face. It was almost funny how he was attending these events to get away from numbers, and yet here he was, next to the boldest numbers in the city. He and the clock were similar in that sense. He didn't run on time; that much was true, instead he ran on the social imperfections of others. But he, like the clock seemed to be going around in eternal circles. He was an affluent man who profited off the greed of people who had been seduced by the allure of instant riches. With numbers, probability, and 'luck' he absorbed other's life-savings into his own bank account. It was admittedly entertaining for a few years, but he quickly grew bored of it. The house always won, and he controlled many houses. Because of his influence and power, he had been invited to several receptions and he finally had the interest to participate in them. Some of them genuinely amused him, but the majority left him despising the events entirely. Wit ordained how memorable each excursion was, and he was almost always the sole master of wit at each of them. His life seemed to be running out of things to fill it, unlike the clock that would continue to run whether or not someone was there to ask what time it was. He began to wonder what lay after life. He thought about what death would be like; was it controlled by fate or was it too dictated by numbers? His life and his career were based around numbers, so why not his death as well- The clock let out ten reverberating chimes as the hour stuck. With a quick twisting motion he extinguished the cigarette on the tower's railing. 'So what now?' He stretched his arms to regain the feeling in his fingertips. He'd found a place to relax in, but something seemed off now. It was too quiet. The gears had stopped moving. Portals of swirling jet-black opened up around him. A set of serrated teeth with beady eyes attached snapped through his chest. He slumped into a lifeless pile and his body melted away. Two people were carrying him from both sides when he opened his eyes again. Both were well-built, one with black braids, the other with jagged orange hair, they were conversing over what sounded like the definition of existence through actions. He tried to shrug this shoulders out of their grasp to walk on his own feet. The two ceased their conversation and set him down without question. He straightened his sleeves out absent-mindedly, "I am gracious for your assistance gentleman. Would you mind telling me exactly where I am?" He quickly corrected himself and took a courteous bow, "My apologies. I haven't introduced myself have I? I am Luxord. A pleasure to meet you both." Both of the well-built men stared speechlessly at him. The one with black braids spoke first, "Well Luxord, Lexaeus and I were taking you home." "Oh? And where would that be? I assure you, nothing is even remotely familiar-" The one named Lexaeus raised up a hand and Luxord immediately ceased speaking. "I should elaborate on what Xaldin was trying to say. Luxord, everything you may think you know and remember, is no longer yours." The blond man looked disoriented. Lexaeus continued, "It's entirely up to you to believe us or not. This is where you belong regardless." Luxord vaguely recalled wanting for something to change and here it was. He regained his previous composure and donned a casual smirk. "Tell me, what exactly does this 'home' look like gentlemen?" --------------------------------------------- The Eleventh Twisted Thorn Scraps of every color of the rainbow were scattered across the floor. -----x-- took a step back to examine the project he had just completed. He had never made something so...pretty looking, he'd never made anything for anyone in fact. But here he had taken the time to do something he never imagined doing. He did it all for her, she meant that much to him. He proudly picked up the bouquet of flowers, he never liked flowers before, but now he adored them. Whenever he gave her flowers, she would smile so beautifully at him... He'd been the typical delinquent with an explosively violent disposition; she was his 'correctional officer'. Like some sappy teen flick, he fell for her. He didn't fall for her immediately, it was over several months; but in the end, she had somehow wormed her way into his temperamental heart. Snapped out of his day-dreams by the beeping of his watch, he realized he was going to be late. He shoved the scissors he'd used to cut the paper into his jacket pocket and cleaned up the cluttered scraps of paper as quickly as he could. He slowed to a jog as her house came up into view. He had managed to carry the bundle of flowers carefully; each petal remained in perfect condition despite how haphazardly he had run. He knocked on the blue door. There was no response. He knocked on the door slightly harder. Still no response. He checked his watch again. He was only half an hour early for his normal appointment, and he was the only person ever scheduled on that day of the week. He tried the door knob, it clicked and the door creaked open. It was typical of her to leave the door unlocked when she was home on a Sunday. Maybe she was listening to music. She did that often. Content with the logic of his conclusion, he walked past the other rooms and found the lone hall where her room lay at the end. Quickly closing the distance between himself and her room door, he slowly opened it, fully intent on giving her the gift. Bare bodies entwined with each other, limbs wrapped sinfully together as the two humans meshed into one. -----x-- reeled back in silent horror. He had turned his face away from the image, but it was burned into his mind. His back was touching the wall next to the door of her room, and he leaned against it, his legs suddenly unable to support his weight. He painfully bit his hand, trying to hold back his hurt and anger. The flowers hung to his side. He was squeezing the bouquet so tightly he was sure its pink petals were wilting off. Flowers...that were meant to be given to her... She betrayed him. He didn't want to admit it, but she betrayed him and he foolishly fell into her trap of compassion. A repulsive musky smell filled the air. He buried his face into the flowers. He could still hear their moans; he wanted the sounds of their sickening pleasure to stop. 'Love? What kind of BS was that? She ditched you. It was all just an act. But hey, look on the bright side. You can still get the last laugh if you want. You know what to do...' He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the scissors. The flowers fell to the floor, his shoes crushing their petals as he walked over them. 'Love huh? Hypocritical whore...' He slammed open the door, she looked up at him in terror, her lover just as shocked and reacting angrily. -----x-- silenced him with a stab through the neck with the scissors. The man seized violently as he bled to death. Red...That was a better color. She screamed for help. He swung a fist at her face. A loud crack and she landed on the floor. She scooted away from him even though the only way out was through the door behind him. He stepped over the body of her dead lover. His hands closed securely around her neck. She gave out hollow gasps as she tried to breathe. She beat at him uselessly. She was weak, how could he have been attracted to this woman? He tightened his grip. A final wheeze and her body became limp. He released his grasp. 'The last laugh.' His lips curled into a smirk. He hadn't noticed the terrible pain in his chest up until now; the darkness ripped though him before he disappeared. He felt something poking into his side, repeatedly. He growled and opened his eyes to see a young man with brown and blond hair happily jabbing a finger into his ribs. He smacked the young man in the face. The young man let out a cry and held his hands where he was hit; eyes watery from the pain. "No need to be a jerk! I seriously thought you were dead!" -----x-- glared at him and snarled, "Keep it up mullet boy and I can make it so YOU'RE the dead one." The young man meeped, then retorted, "Hey, I'm not 'mullet boy', I'm Demyx you know." The previous fear evaporated from him completely, his cheerfulness quickly recovering back onto his face. Demyx was irritating the hell out of him now, "WELL WHOOP DE FREAKING DOO, I'M MARLUXIA," he forcefully got up to his feet only to collapse from the action. Demyx laughed and helped Marluxia off the ground. "Don't worry Marly, Demyx is here!" He wanted very badly to beat the idiotic optimism out of Demyx's bony body, but his limbs refused to respond. Marluxia resigned to seething in silent indignation as Demyx helped him limp-walk towards a metal structure looming in the distance. --------------------------------------------- The Twelfth Crackling Bolt She was the queen. She was a serpent that had more than enough venom; it only made them admire her more. No one got in her way, absolutely no one. And if they did, there was hell to pay. She could easily outdo anyone at anything. She had a tongue as sharp as a knife and a temper like a storm. She had everything she could ever want. She'd earned all of it, so she was easily entitled to every ounce of respect she got. Of course, not everyone understood that. Oh no, if the world worked like that, well, it never worked like that, so that possibility never had to be imagined. But, it never always worked out how ---x--- planned it. Today was the day she was going to beat some sense into the boyfriend of that stupid girl. The girl in question was an idiot who commented on how ---x--- dressed. If she wanted her opinion she would have asked for it. Not that she ever would, that stupid girl was most likely blind based on the way she dressed at school. It was supposed to go down at midnight in front of the closed shop on the old street. No adults. No one else involved. No problems. Despite how dangerous it may have sound, she had always managed to get through each of these meetings unscathed. The other party...would never be as fortunate. She arrived early to the front of the shop. It was always amusing to see which ones actually had enough gall to face her. She stood by the rusting lamp post in front of the shop. The damn thing was always flickering. She shoved a hand into her pocket and played with her knife with her free hand. She always used a knife, more specifically, that one knife. It was her lucky one in a sense. It never failed her, and it always aided her. In many ways it was more reliable and helpful then any person she'd known. Best of all, it never questioned her. Why couldn't the people around her be more cooperative like her tools? Ah, but this was how the world worked; it would always be full of idiots... Her watch gave a shrill beep as the hour struck midnight. She cast searching looks in every direction. Still no sign of that *****'s boyfriend, she was going to wait for another ten minutes, but no more. They needed the sympathy like all of the others did in her opinion. She leaned on the lamp post, eyes scanning for the other person. They would probably try to cheat, they sometimes did that. Then again, that stupid girl probably didn't even HAVE a boyfriend. It wouldn't be a surprise to her... Ten after midnight. With a soft groan she peeled herself off the lamp post. No show huh? What a waste of time- The lamp post flicked off. So it finally decided to die. She began to walk down the pitch black street and nearly fell onto the side-walk's concrete. Something had rammed into her leg. Brandishing the knife, she squinted futilely against the lack of light, her ears straining to pick up any sound of what could have possibly attacked her. All she could hear was her own harsh breathing and- The lamp post's light flickered back on. A bundle of black swirled under the light, yellow eyes rolled onto its face. Rows of serrated teeth swiveled forward. They seemed to smile at her. All she could do was stare at it. Her feet felt like they were fused to the ground. The lamp's bulb shattered. A growl and a terrified scream that rang in the darkness. She couldn't recognize who was the girl that was screaming, but it stopped when something sharp painfully twisted itself into her chest. "Isn't she captivating Marluxia? I never thought such an exquisite young lady could be found in a place like this!" A refined voice, interest underlay it despite the tone. "What's so interesting about a chick? A DEAD one at that! She doesn't even have a pulse!" A coarse voice, anger brimming at the very edges of it. 'Dead?' "Neither do we! She might be one of us...any bets she is?" The refined voice again, the fascination more apparent. "...You're on Luxord." The coarse voice calmed itself, the previous hostility dissipating instantly. ---x--- opened her eyes to see two men staring down at her. One had simplistically short hair that was platinum blond, the other a mane of light brown and somewhat pink hair. She instinctively slapped the one closest to her, that being the man with the light brown-pink hair. His face turned to the side from the sheer power behind the blow. He slowly turned his head back to face her, blue eyes glared into hers. She could literally feel the rage radiating off of him despite his lack of facial expression. "I told you she was alive Marluxia." Marluxia turned to face Luxord; once again, his animosity evaporating at the words of the other man. "Too bad we didn't make any bets on if she would be a b*tch or not." She pulled back her hand to slap him again. Luxord caught her arm before she could complete the action and pulled her up onto her feet. "Now now young Madame, you mustn't act that way. Why don't we dispel that brusqueness of yours by getting better acquainted?" Marluxia rolled his eyes. Luxord made a motion as though to kiss her hand, but she quickly pulled it out of his and slapped it away. "You can call me Larxene and that's as 'acquainted' as you'll get with me, you bearded scumbag." He spoke in the same tone despite how wounded his pride was at her remark. "You certainly are a savage rose aren't you? But all the more alluring." Larxene opened her mouth to speak, but she was cut off by Marluxia. "I'd think she was all thorns Luxord." The brunette gave her a thin smile before walking away. Luxord followed him as well as Larxene. She never knew how much something so simple could disturb her. --------------------------------------------- The Thirteenth Astray Ego His hands were on something cold. Something that had done unforgivable things. What he now held was something that went against everything he was fighting for. So why was he now holding it? And more importantly, at himself? He knew what had to be done...for the sake of everyone else. He knew he would become one of them. The things he had been fighting against, those horrible things that destroyed worlds. He cast a look at the girl's body laying on the stone floor. All for her. All for the sake of the worlds. His hand was shaking as the tip of the edge hovered over his chest. He felt so afraid. He was sure his friend would have laughed at him. His friend...this weapon had come from his friend. He took a deep breath before plunging the tip of it into his chest. A feeling of falling. The sound of tears and laughter. Darkness. No sound. Nothin- "Hey, you okay?" Upon opening his eyes, he saw blindingly red hair and an almost skeletal young man bent over him. He gave an intelligent "Hng?" in response. "Heh. Thought you were dead." He laughed as he ran a hand through his spiked hair. "I'm Axel, good to see ya." The man gave him a smirk of a smile. It seemed bizarre to see a smile for some reason. "So new kid, what's your name?" Axel ruffled --x--'s hair playfully. Any harder and he thought it would hurt his head. "Roxas." It felt painful to say. --------------------------------------------- Post-Notes: (canon first six names, I-VI) Xehanort, Braig, Dilan, Even, Elaeus and Ienzo. (own 'original names' for the second set of six, VII-XII) Isa, Lae, Meyd, Rould, Ramiual and Arlene. (the last and seventh canon name, XIII) Sora.
Wow. This was very good, you're a talented writer. My favorite one had to be Saix's, and the way you wrote some of the members makes me see them in a new light.
That is Awsome. I love how it explained all of it. It does let me see why they would go to the darkness to get what they had back. Great job
