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“Angel of Twilight: Clockwork Breakdown”	By : HappyDragon Category: Kingdom Hearts > Slash/Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 8242 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Key:
“Talking aloud.”
‘Thinking to one’s self.’
/Nobody Language/
::Denotes sound effects:: ::and actions.:: Only used during speech.
Major P.O.V./Scene Change: * * * *
A/N: My notes/comments/ramblings
Chapter Start/End: ------

A/N: [[Removed to comply with new AFF guidelines. Please see the MM.org version for full A/Ns: http://www.mediaminer.org/fanfic/view_st.php/156268]]

Rating: NC-17.

|Spoilers|: There are some light spoilers for all three games.

|Warning|: The usual. Beware OOC-ness. Also beware the language, angst, and psychological trauma to Riku.

Betaed by: ‘Crimson Enigma’

Criticism: Constructive only. Non-Axel flamers need not respond.

Reviews:
Kage ^.^;;;;; Well . . . I guess I epic failed on that one. XD Haz an extra super-sized chappie. ^_^

Higuchimon I thank you for those kinds words, and hope that this chapter lives up to those expectations. Well it makes a kind of sense to me that the Nobodies have personalities as they are the leftover minds and bodies of a converted being. They say it in the games that Nobodies can think and plan. Which means they have a firm sense of self, and that means they could have personalities.

Besides it just makes it easier to deal with the lesser ones as characters if I give them personalities. If a few specific ones show up, they might get nicknames . . . .

Obsessive Much You are far too kind in your praise. Ah, ^.^;; I’m glad that they give you so much to think about, what with how long it takes me to update. -_-;; Mm! Well that was part of it this time! I was busy, busy, busy with school, but then I got to the point of thinking, ‘You have fans that want more story. As a writer, you are obligated to deliver. NOW DELIVER BEFORE I--YOUR SENSE OF GUILT--GIVE YOU AN ULCER!!!!!’ And so I got to cracking. XD . . . Whoa O____O . . . . .

Alexiel: Ego-stroking. Yer doin’ it rite.

Special Dedications: At the end.

|Edit|: I have a name for Repliku. And again I say serendipity. XD
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“Angel of Twilight; Clockwork Breakdown” Part 7/?
‘Silent Wonder’

His mind felt foggy and heavy, like the rest of his body. The last thing he remembered doing still ghosted before his mind’s eye, and Riku hated himself for it.

He had eaten of a world’s heart.

It was necessary. It needed to be done. It was better for the world in the long run. An act of mercy to end it’s suffering sooner instead of later.

Didn’t mean he had to like what he did, or that he had to be okay with it. It was another action he had to atone for, another sin amidst an ever growing ocean. It made him feel dirty, knowing what he had just done.

Wait . . . why wasn’t he still doing it? And were his eyes . . . closed?

‘Oh no. . . .’

The silver haired teen blinked his eyes open, and was met with an expanse of tanned skin bordered by fabric.

Riku whimpered, and looked up.

Ansem’s grinning eyes and lips greeted him. “Hello, pet.”

The boy whimpered again. He couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t be back here! Not again, not again! He immediately started to struggle in his captor’s arms, the binding magicks not having taken hold yet. Ansem was reclining on the bed as per usual, yet this time the boy was belly down to his chest, meaning all that stood between Riku and freedom were those arms. The ex-Keyblader refused to stay down this time, and subconsciously his darkness answered his unspoken panic and rage.

Black tentacles lashed at the Heartless Lord, ‘physical’ duplicates of the ones which had hurt him when the boy’s ‘mental defenses’ had activated. The scholar took a nasty blow to his left shoulder before he was able to summon up his own darkness in response. But in the meantime the teen had wrenched himself free of his larger arms. Still Riku could not un-impale his body, though he still made the attempt to stand. Foolish brat, he would only be free if he so desired it.

Riku’s darkness frantically attacked and tangled with that of the dark man, leaving the boy mostly free to escape. He got his feet under himself, and made to stand, as Ansem was busy shielding his face with his hands. He unbent his legs, pushing himself up, only to find his progress halted once again by virtue of the tyrant’s enlarged anatomy.

‘Like Hell This Is Happening Again!’ The boy reached down with both hands, gripping Ansem’s shadow slicked girth, and began to yank it out of himself.

As last time, the head remained sheathed, and no matter how insistently he pulled it remained so. Desperation coursed through his veins. A small amount of Riku’s shadows responded, the teen unknowingly bending them into the form of a bladed tentacle and made to cut off the bastard’s genitalia.

Ansem would have none of this, for when he felt the resistance slightly diminish, he summoned all his remaining darkness. The once king struck, rocking forward, and landed atop the child, who continued to howl as he renewed his attack. But now the Heartless Lord had more active darkness then the boy, and started to wind his own power around that of Riku, even as he tried to take hold of his flailing hands. Hands that were busily clawing at his face and any other body part they could reach.

‘No No No No No!’ Being on his back was bad! Riku started to kick at the larger form, not fully comprehending the extent to which he controlled his own shadows.

When he had worked with the witch it had been a case of ‘monkey see, monkey do’ until Ansem had grown strong enough inside him to start whispering the proper commands. In the white castle he had spent too much time fighting and denying that part of himself to fully utilize it, until it was too late. Since then he had used it, but only sparingly, with the very real fear that he could tap into Ansem’s power and the man could likewise tap into him. But still what the teen had yet to learn was that, among other reasons, Ansem had picked him as a host for how easily his darkness, all darkness, adhered to him the way light did to others. This untrained potential was the very thing the dark king had to fight against now, as it was the only reason any of Riku’s inherent shadows were defending him.

His perfect host. Perfectly infuriating.

“Stay Down!!”

“NO!” And he continued to flail about. He wasn’t below biting the man at this point.

Ansem roared, and made his shades into pikes that he slammed into every moving tendril under Riku’s command.

“Ah!” His aquamarine eyes bugged, body arching and freezing in space, feeling every inch of his darkness being spiked with Ansem’s. Only his core was safe, the wellspring of his power left untainted, un-reached. But it was enough for the heartless man, enough for him to sigh, and wind tired arms around his prey again.

Riku’s mind was blank, but not blank. He was there, but being there meant less then it had. He saw, and he felt, but connecting . . . his thoughts refused to come full circle. The circuit was blocked by foreign matter, Heartless Darkness that didn’t conduct his thoughts. Instead he was left to feel as Ansem’s power tangled and pierced his own, trying to mix or conquer.

Slowly, slowly, slowly, the dark one wound power into place, and coaxed the binding magicks that had almost broken back to life. He relaxed his shadows’ grip ever so slightly, knowing that the boy wouldn’t be able to attack again, at least not tonight. He was safe and wanted to hear his pet scream. When the light came back to the child’s eyes he purred. Then thrust himself back in.

Pain, agony, shame, and the teen moaned out a ‘no’ as he felt the huge weight settle inside himself again. He tried to lift a hand, but found his energy lacking. The bastard was on all fours above him, kissing at his neck already, and he hadn’t even managed to bloody a lip or something. It made him feel pathetic, that this parasite could best him so easily.

‘Cheating parasite.’ He corrected himself, and found a little of his will returning.

Ansem chuckled in his throat, then drew a gloved hand down to the teen’s belly, stroking the side of it.

Riku blinked. “What the hell?” He looked down at himself, and if he hadn’t known any better would have sworn he was several months pregnant. “Oh fuck no, no no no I am not doing some crazy ‘giving demonic birth’ to you thing! I don’t know what that is--”

“Food. Or rather ‘lunch’ to be more precise.” He nuzzled his nose into soft strands adorning the sensitive scalp.

“Huh? But . . . how . . . I mean . . no I think . . . wouldn’t I have died if I ate that much?” Flashes of intense memory sparked before his eyes. He, make that they, had been making short work of the heart.

A long sigh escaped him before he could stop it. “Shall I explain things again? You are my host. My hunger is your hunger. As long as you hold me, especially in our current condition of partial fusion, you will take on attributes suitable to carry out hunting and feeding for me, or should I say both of us. True, at the moment I am gaining the majority of energy from our meal, but that is only because your body, while capable of processing and breaking down the matter, cannot absorb the nutrients offered by consuming hearts. However, like some other enduring animals, Heartless are capable of ingesting larger than average quantities of food in a single sitting, such as snakes do, or even a variety of bears. Similarly, my hunger, and thus yours too, will be greatly abated until you finish digesting it for us.” Hopefully the boy would be complacent for now.

Riku’s eyes shifted between amber orbs and the white glove still cupping, and petting, the side of his tummy. “So . . . that’s everything . . . I--we . . . that got eaten?”

“By us, yes.” He started to lean in again, pressing dry lips to resisting skin.

The human still didn’t want anything the man was offering, but his body was sluggish to move, when it did react at all. The silver boy turned his head to the side and saw . . . shadows. Was that his shadow? Shadows? His brows furrowed as he looked down. Yes, his shadow had expanded to cover a larger area then it should have, and even taken on the form of undulating tendrils. At the back of his mind Riku could feel his connection to them, but he could also feel the jackass’ darkness curling round and stroking it. He didn’t like the ghostly sensation in his mind, for it made him feel like his body was one big ‘shaft’ to be teased and stimulated. Such attention to his darkness was already sending light shivers down his spine just as surely as the bastard sucking on his neck did. He wanted to pull his darkness back in, away from the madman’s clutches. His tendrils gave a jerk at the thought, trying to surge inward, but were held fast in the grip of a winter’s night. Riku’s eyes widened, having a decent idea of what had just happened, and he tried again.

Ansem noticed what his host was attempting, and chuckled low in his throat. It was adorable really, the boy was finally striving to truly control his darkness. Before it was just a reservoir of energy he could tap into, like his light. Mostly it was just added onto his attacks like a magical element, and there was the rudimentary manipulation to summon the dark armor which affected his physical capabilities. But actually summoning and controlling darkness? No, the last time the child had done that was during the time of his influence, when he had made those shadow copies of the runt, to put it nicely. So this was a real treat, seeing him struggle to learn how to manipulate his own power to the fullest extent. Perhaps, if he was feeling generous, he would teach the boy himself. But for now there was some amusement to be had with the situation.

The dark man bent low and nipped at his child’s throat. Riku flinched, his eyes remaining trained on his shadows, but nothing more, the bindings fast in place. Ansem purred, giving him an unanswered lick, as the fledgling darkness wriggled in his midnight grasp.

Riku’s features contorted, his eyes screwing shut in concentration. Maybe, maybe if he treated the trailing wisps as arms being clutched at by hands, try to wiggle them free, or twist, or surge out then back in to him, something, anything to make the dark one let go of him! Them . . . they were--aaaaaarhg! It was like Ansem was touching every inch of his body at once! His instincts told him to squeeze his legs shut, but the Heartless Lord was already snug between his thighs. And dammit, he still had no energy to move!

Yes . . . yes he would put the child through his first round of endurance training. See how long the boy could keep it up before falling over the edge. A smile twisted his lips, for what was a little perverseness in the pursuit of knowledge? Besides he still had much to learn about his boy. Perhaps it was a little . . . crass, but Riku had stumbled upon it on his own, granted he hadn’t lingered on it long enough to glean any true understanding of what he saw. And there were still sooo many fetishes he had to teach his boy about, though it would most likely be a good deal of time before he could show him the erotic applications of food.

And he did so love sweet things, too.

The silver teen continued to rattle his power against the dark clutches of the tyrant embedded in his young body. Still the bastard held him/it fast. It was somewhat . . . . odd to his mind that . . . . his darkness was him, part of his body, and he was his darkness, a container made of light, one and the same in one. But it made sense to him, which was confusing in that it felt so normal, after he’d done everything short of ignoring this power for so long. It was an extension of himself, but with the tactile perception of skin, even though it was all metaphysical. But it was so sensitive! Hypersensitive even . . . was this normal, or because of what Ansem was doing to him? Would his connection to his own darkness have been stronger by now if he had trained and used it, or would he have connected to Ansem’s darkness instead? Should he even strengthen the bond he had with his now, given what the dark man wanted to do with him? But . . . his darkness felt safe, and wholesome . . . like a part of himself that he had almost lost--would be loath to lose. He was the darkness and the darkness was him, but there was light within his darkness that made it his own and no other’s.

Something damp was poking his right cheek.

“Mmm?” Riku opened his eyes and gazed up to find the jackass smiling at him, albeit with a hungry or even slightly lecherous air. He frowned back at him, and flicked sea-green eyes over to the offending object . . . to be met by a phallic toy. A dripping phallic toy, in much the same dimensions as Ansem himself. ‘This again?’, he quietly huffed, but the dark tyrant still heard, and smiled all the more, brushing over his cheek, leaving a thick marking of black, before the false prick lifted away. Riku’s eyes widened slightly as he saw that in truth it was but the end of one of the researcher's shady tendrils. [1] A blink and then, “Is . . . is this all you can do with your darkness? Make . . . things to torment me with?”

“This is barely the beginning of my power,” the wise one chuckled. “And as I am an educator first and foremost when it comes to such intimate issues as these, concerning you at least, you would do well to remember that such powerful knowledge could be yours . . . if you would but let me teach you.” He purred the last, eyes hooding in satisfaction of the idea.

The teen eyed the construct savagely. “I think I’ll pass.” He felt the urge to shift his weight, seeing as his full stomach was starting to weigh heavily on his back and spine.

“If only you could, little one. As I intimated, this is not the end all and be all of manipulation when it comes to this energy. Even now there are more complex shapes and forms I might command, but for your safety I avoid them--”

“You mean for the sake of your power.” Aqua-lime eyes narrowed, “You don’t have enough energy in you to hold me, and make something big or complicated or anything that needs too much darkness from you. Hell I never saw you even manipulate anything beyond your ‘guardian’, you probably didn’t even convert or make a quarter of the Heartless out there yourself, so why would I believe--”

“Oh of course,” he broke in as if the child was saying nothing at all, “I turned you out of your body and mind during that last grand battle with that dancing monkey and his befuddled lackeys. No wonder you hold no clear recollection. Silly thing,” he cuddled closer to the boy, holding him fast in his arms, and the one odd tentacle joined its brothers in vexing Riku’s twilight, touching off similar modifications to its siblings. Ansem tenderly nuzzled the left side of the teen’s neck, brushing stray tickling hairs with his nose, “But my memories are there before you, so that you might view me at my height. See for yourself, child, some of the wonders that I could once command, and am on the path to commanding again.” He softly touched the edges of his mind to Riku’s, sending a light shiver of power to the pale boy.

The silveret refused to look, and was more shocked at the reminder that their minds were starting to intertwine than appeased with the newfound knowledge. He felt the coils of his mind flex and grip involuntarily, as his darkness did . . . were they getting used to this kind of movement, this kind of manipulation?

The elder hummed happily, finding the teen’s mind was as inquisitive as ever. Ah, so like him, so very, very like him. His first instinct was to gather up all knowledge of an instant before he acted. It had made turning him from his ‘light’ so difficult, and almost made Ansem fail in that endeavor, but oh, to know that even now, as much as Riku wished not to, his mind still instinctively clutched and foraged for information, even among his ebony thoughts. But alas, he was just as stubborn as ever, and Ansem knew that the teen could become downright obstinate if he should happen to liken them together in the slightest, so it was that he would keep silent on the matter, and let his boy’s searches continue as they would.

“Ah! . . W-what are you doing?!” Riku’s eyes flashed with panic and heat as he turned his attention to the moving shadows surrounding them. The Heartless Lord’s darkness had suddenly come alive with a flurry of activity, stroking and petting and stimulating his own shady power. His porcelain face was flushing even as a part of him responded to the attention paid him by the moist touches. “They’re all . . .”

“Oh, that,” the amber-eyed male licked over the young one’s jugular, “as I was saying before, ‘tis but a simple manipulation of energy.” And he called over one such morphed tendril, “You will noticed that the detail is not all that extensive, it’s not meant to be much more than a base likeness to myself. No marks, nor hairs, nor veins, nor folds of any sort adorn it, as all that matters is the truth behind the breath and width and length. As for the . . . liquid spilling forth, again it is but the adjustment of consistency. I’ve purposely weakened the molecular bonds, allowing for greater fluidity and flexibility, that I might do . . . this.” And with the appendage he tapped the little pointed nose, leaving an inky splotch to mark the sight.

“You’re going to simulate . . . with all of them . . .” His eyes zipped between all the shadows, voice low and nearly choked off with disbelief.

“Mmmm? . . . And just what am I going to simulate?” He nibbled on a preoccupied earlobe. Riku simply whimpered, and Ansem felt the teen’s body tighten significantly around him, fear almost palpable. The dark king laughed, and cuddled his little treat more. “No no child. It’s all you can do to handle one of me there. To entertain anymore, well, that would require none too few nights of training. However . . . my intentions are more along the lines of . . . this.” Every appendage oriented itself so that its wetted tip was pressed to the boy’s darkness. Then they all began to stroke, up and down, not in sequence, but slowly, gently, each to their own rhythm, coating over Riku’s power with the thin layer of blacker night.

The teen screamed, body arching in pleasure. He undulated under the elder, thrashing to either side within his arms. It wasn’t painful, but the overload to his synapses was indescribable. Ansem purred, feeling the velvet grip try to plunge itself down on him. The intensity of his little silver trophy’s heat would be the undoing of his cognitive mind. But he had a higher goal to work towards, so he bit back his instincts and purred continuing to both torment and monitor his boy.

It was too much! Too much and everywhere, and it was like sin on sin as he plunged himself as far down on the bastard as he could go, grinding his hips backwards into the larger body, because his mind would have ruptured otherwise. A distraction, any distraction, no matter how sickening was mandatory to keep his mind as he felt--FELT!!! Felt with the accuracy of every cell and hair of his frame the sensations and pleasures visited upon his power. Every slow drag was a soft wet heaven to him, exciting and wonderful and strange and powerful, and it was all in his mind, it was all in his mind itwasallinhisminditwasallinhismind--But then there were kisses to his face and his neck, and soon the caramel skinned man had stolen down to his--Oh God that wasn’t a hand, those weren’t fingers on him, they were coiling and tight and wet and the madman just purred as he flipped round so that he was on his back again, like when this night started--

Riku screamed again. There was no joy in it. Ansem felt the brush of nausea, and his boy opened his eyes to look around frantically. A deranged light was in them, and they only calmed when they beheld his own twilit power puddle-ing on the bed. The teen lunged sideways, and his right arm sunk up to his elbow into his own blackness. His breathing gradually leveled out, and by turns he calmed down completely, leaving the Heartless Lord with a very good idea of what had just happened. Riku didn’t yet have the fine-tuned control needed to attach his animated power to his normal shadow, the two were separate for now. If the teen moved too violently, with no time to adjust mentally, he couldn’t keep his moving power linked to him, so it dissipated, returning in to him. But in this case Ansem held it hostage, so when the boy’s shadow reoriented itself from behind his back to before his belly, his darkness couldn’t make the move with it and should have faded if not for the elder’s interference. And that brought about a psychic backlash on Riku. But still, it was promising that he should have such a deep connection to his power so soon after harmonizing with it. Still . . . it meant that re-harmonizing him with his Heartless Darkness could be an absolute nightmare.

His dulled aquamarine eyes continued to stare at the ink he’d plunged his hand into, and he did not move to remove it. This was his darkness, not Ansem’s. It was safe and his and it wouldn’t hurt him ever. But . . . he felt sleepy, though he already knew that the night was young and far from over. Heck it hadn’t even begun.

Slow fingertips ran down the centerline of his small back. Riku closed his eyes and hummed, liking the action and hating the daemon who did such things to him. But those slow fingers were patient, and continued to run over delicious flesh. Now and then they would stop, softly nudging at places that might have been one knot of muscles or another. His fingers worked in deliberate circles, seeking out the points of greatest tension first to work outwards from. A tiny whimper fell from his lips, acknowledging without his knowledge that he was pleased.

The silver tyrant debated, the child really should sit up, or he’d develop a cramp. His darkness gave a slow rub to the teen. He shifted but not much. In the end he had to just slide the boy up along his body with his hands, listening to mewls of protest as he went. Riku’s hand was de-trenched as he was moved, and the lad was loath to lose such an intimate connection with his power, even though it had once more properly connected with his normal shadow (which was the only reason Ansem even attempted the move, or he should have found the boy sick all over again).

Sluggish and sleepy he half sat, half draped himself on the large lap and broad chest he found himself on. Even his eyes were only half open. But his mind, his mind was open for engagements. Ansem’s talented hands, warmed by the teen’s own body heat, cupped his backside and haunches, trailing under his pale thighs and drawing them up and settling them more satisfyingly around his waist, edging himself a tiny bit deeper, and ensuring the lithe thing wouldn’t fall. A soft whimper crawled from the back of his throat, even as his twilit power lapped against his skin. Again his darkness tried to draw inward and again it was held out of himself.

A soft chuckle, warm and sinful and velvety, and he was tracing slow fingers over the little one who was so worn out already. It was dreadful really, a wonder he seemed to have as much stamina as he did, unless . . . no, no, no he pushed himself yes, but the boy wouldn’t live beyond the breaking point. No. “Perhaps . . . yes, I guess it would all be for the best if I taught you myself how to master the darkness. Had I known just giving you the commands without the theory would have been so ultimately problematic . . . well what’s past is past, and we need only worry about learning what not to repeat from our mistakes.” Yes, he hadn’t expected the boy’s mind to still be here, but it was and that was that.

‘ . . . ’ The man couldn’t really . . . no. He could. He could feel it in him, that the fool would try to make ‘more’ of the night. That he would try to teach him something, or nothing, or just annoy him to an end. Riku sighed, and silently begged for sleep.

He chuckled, knowing what the boy most likely wanted, but he couldn’t give him that now, not with so much to do. But yes, a reward, a small taste of things after the harsh lesson. Ansem moved over a few of his tentacles, and set them to lightly trace over the curling paths of the tattoo. And the ones around the slim boyhood did not lay forgotten.

Riku groaned, hating the raising of his body, hating the way the other made him feel, hating the curious prod of black night around his sensitive and abused crevasse. He hated the beast and his darkness and just wanted him to die and leave him be in his own body that he didn’t even understand anymore. But there was just laughter and smiles and whispers promising knowledge beyond his years and more, which he turned away from--which he tried to turn away from, but the ebony flexed against his mind again and he was stunned by the smooth pulse of wonder that answered the action--but he didn’t want to know! Who would want to know? Aside for him, who already knew, so he must have asked someone else--Wait, he was him, not the other, the scholar knew, he didn’t and that was fine, because he was sure he’d have been happier muddling through puberty by himself, or maybe with Kairi, and probably Sora, because Tidus and Wakka were as reliable to lean on as much as they weren’t, and he didn’t have a close enough connection to anyone else besides Selphie, and she would probably be helping Kairi and yeah . . . .

Had he always been so alone?

“And you wonder why it was so easy for me to find a space to dwell within your heart.” His gloved fingers stroked over the ivory shaft, spreading pearls into the skin.

A flush of shame, and he was avoiding amber eyes, knowing just what had been so alluring about the dark in that faltering moment, and during the precarious steps that lead him there.

“So why fight me now?”

“Because I’ve seen the light, and it isn’t you.”

He laughed softly then, and resumed exploring the child with his fingertips. Just touches, here and there, some with the tentacles too, but silently searching, all to draw out his boy. He traced the paths of power pressed to innocent flesh, humming at the delight that pulsed in his hand. Slow, so slow, waiting on his little one to cast off his inhibitions, to loosen his resentment just slightly, and acknowledge with his tiniest bit of self that he liked the sensual attention being paid to him. He searched him out with lips and tongue and teeth, worshiping him like a golden calf as he purred encouragement into his ivory mind. In the end the boy was too worn out, and weariness made him relent, allowing his body to amble to it’s peak.

But before his could crest the hill, the dark one slackened in his ministrations. This was what he wanted after all, to trap the youth just shy of relief, to see how long his system could deal with the strain. He shifted his darkness to hold tightly to Riku’s shadows, and brought his hands to stroke and pat at the large bulge of his stomach, his lips still busy in teasing the other’s. His little soft thing, all murderous in his arms.

‘Hate you . . . hate you . . . so much . . . hate you . . .’

Ansem took his wrists in his hands, even as he pulled back from the boy. Then the staring match started, with the dark one gazing into turquoise depths, a smirk on his lips. Slowly, very slowly Riku began to wiggle and shift just ever so slightly, trying to find relief from his predicament. He was hard and wanting and ready to explode, and the jackass decided that now was the best time to stop? Seditious and evil, and he hoped with all his heart that the fiend would just die as horrible a death as possible.

Little hands and little movement, and he just held him and held him and faint touches to his heart and mind and barely more to his body as he was just . . . . still.

A soft murmur of a whimper and he was a rush of starlight. A satisfied sigh, and the night chased after him.

“Hmm, better then I expected.” But next time he would give the boy some aid. He leaned in to nuzzle the child, slowly turning them so that he’d end up poised above his twilit wonder.

‘Should have known . . . hate him hate him hatehimhatehimhatehimhatehimhatehim HATE HIM!’ Everything was an experiment and for fun and knowledge and to torment him and he just wished one of them would die, mostly Ansem, but he’d already died and come back because he was still alive, so maybe they both had to die . . . . and he knew that he’d do it for the sake of the ones he loved.

Ansem purred, “Would you really pet?”

‘Die? To kill you? If I have to go down with you, I’ll still take you down.’

“Do you even know what you’re saying?” Unadulterated joy flashed through his eyes.

‘Yes.’ He was tired, but he wasn’t a fool. He had screwed up, and screwed up royally. Worlds had been destroyed, lives ruined if not lost, and that was the obvious stuff.

“I don’t believe you do, or you would have said as much.” Dare he believe? After two months of fighting it all came down to three nights of tender care?

He locked eyes with his tormentor. ‘Then I’ll say it slow. I hate you. So much that I’m willing to die to make you die. You’re bound to me. You can’t leave me. But if I’m wrong, and you can, I’d willingly find a way to permanently bind you to me, so that when I die, you can’t escape, and so you die with me.’ He was the one who had done wrong, there was no need to make the next innocent subverted by madness pay too. It would be fitting, to die for his sins.

Ansem had a look of utter victory plastered across his face. “You’d willing bind yourself to me?”

Anger sparked in his eyes, ‘To kill you, yes, I’ll bind myself to you!’

All was silent but for the child’s gasp. Something, some energy running through him, some--darkness! Ansem’s darkness! No no it was curling through his veins, filling him, like that time, that horrible moment! ‘Not Again! Please!’ He thrashed, tried to get away, but the Heartless Lord locked his arms around him and held him close, pressing kisses to his eyelids as he felt his power spreading outward of the small confines of the child’s heart.

He loved the warmth, but he couldn’t move and stretch the way he used to with the body. He purred, and began to sweep his essence out into his vessel.

Riku screamed. His eyes were wide, nearly popping out of his head as the pupils and irises contracted down into pinpricks, fingernails digging--tearing through fabric, scraping skin, all as his back arched unnaturally. All as his voice rang out so forcefully that his throat should have been raw.

A wall of pain slammed into Ansem’s eyes and frontal lobes, and he stopped the spreading of his power. The teen likewise calmed for a moment, with little more then a whimper, body going limp after the sudden exertion. A frown marred mocha lips, and he tried again, albeit much more tentatively. Riku still let out a whimper of pain, and the wall returned. The dark scholar paused again, thinking deeply on the matter. He was just doing what he had done the first time, moving the concentration of his power out of the teen’s heart and inundating his full being. Since his defeat, and the following fiasco at the castle, his essence had been solely confined to the boy’s heart, unable to really move past those physical barriers of kardía muscle, but bringing the lad’s psyche under his thumb should have fixed that inconvenience as it had the first time. Unless the pain was because of--Of course! Yes, how unobservant of him. The once king released all of the twilight darkness that his midnight power had held at bay, and it succinctly vanished back into it’s preferred location of inside Riku’s soul.

Chuckling to himself Ansem pulled in his darkness, though thinking better of it he set it to help him monitor his host’s reactions when he tried again.

Riku was more coherent this time, and though he still sobbed, and wailed at what was happening he was able to beg that the other, “Stop! Oh God-” ‘-he’s breaking my Heart!-’ “-Please, please, I’m sorry, just please!” ‘It hurts, it hurts, he won’t stop, he won’t-’ “-I swear I’ll be good, but STOP, I promise, I promise, please!!” ‘Oh Gods he’ll rip it apart, rip me apart, break it down and kill me-’ “-It hurts, please! I’ll be good! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I swear! Just stop, just stop, please please?!”

Frowning, he closed his eyes and trained his power to the area in question. What he saw disgusted him. The boy wasn’t exaggerating, when he pushed outward, the heart tissue stretched as if something was physically trying to break free. Ansem angrily pulled his power back in, the teen again falling limp and breathless in his arms. He was furious that after all of his hard work he was still unable to take over his host’s body without expending massive amounts of energy. What was the point of having a host if he still couldn’t interact with the outside world?!

Riku was clutching onto him rather . . . forcefully. And he was still sobbing about the pain. A long sigh left him, he supposed that he would have to find a way to help his little one heal. He nuzzled into the teen, shushing him softly as he petted his hair, encouraging him to drift off to sleep. He had put his pale jewel through more then he wanted to for now, and sleep was the safest option to him. But the last thing aqua-green eyes saw before they closed was a knowing smile as the madman thought of all the wonderful things he would put his boy through later.

* * * * * *

“Honestly, I don’t know why I put up with your insanity. I should just beat you to death.” He let go of the other’s elbow, shaking his head with a sigh. Being that Axel’s mouth was full, he just crinkled the edges of his eyes, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Roxas’ sighed. “How did I know? . . .” Axel again looked like he wanted to respond but talking still wasn’t an option. “Let’s . . . just go put that stuff in your bedroom.” Better to get it all put away before he got even more ideas. The lesser Nobodies knew what they were doing, and could handle putting everything mundane away on their own. Same as every time before this.

Opening a dark portal, they jointly entered number VIII’s resting area. It was as chaotic as the being inhabiting it. The flaxen youth raised a questioning eyebrow, wondering just how his traveling companion managed to live in it. There were . . . posters . . . plastered to every inch of wall and ceiling surface that lay in arms reach of the redhead, not to mention piles of robes on the floor, tucked in corners, and papers and books scattered over the one desk by the side wall.

And no windows. That was possibly the most disturbing thing, that there was no view out of this room. Roxas’ was, well, neatly ordered, but still lived in. Yes he hadn’t added anything to the walls, but he had a view that overlooked the moon and the Dark City, so he really didn’t feel a need for such things.

“What a haul! This should keep me stocked for a few days.” Bawdy laughter spilled from faded red lips.

The blond shook his head. “Whatever. I’ll let you get to packing Ax, because I seriously need some down time--to myself--before Xemnas calls us in for a report.” He’d seen and learned so much on this last trip, and he wanted to sort it all out for himself.

And the Dusk was still hanging off of his arm.

For his part, Axel would have loved to have spent every second before the debriefing . . . . de-briefing his little lover. But . . . . he had come to the understanding that Roxas needed some time. And that’s what he’d give him, all the time he needed to figure out where he was with himself. So he bent down to kiss him, and murmured, “Sure thing Roxy,” against petal soft lips. “Promise we’ll talk later at least?” A nod. “Then, rest well.” And a seductive grin crossed the elder’s face, and Roxas shivered at the implications as he teleported to his room.

His room . . . he cast his gaze on the familiar walls, the whitewashed barrenness that was host to all the colors that spilled through the wide window, and into his lair. It was bigger then Axel’s place, maybe half again the size, but he didn’t use that space . . . . himself.

Under his bed, in the corners of the room, huddled in his closet, the older ones just popped out in the open, but this was the second gathering place of the Dusks. If he’d had a balcony, they probably would have been on it too. It confused him sometimes, all the lesser Nobodies usually haunted their masters’ resting places, but every subtype hovered by the Superior, the Creepers only sought him out, but would ‘talk’ to any of the others they ran into on the way. But four times out of five, the Dusks always came to him. [2] Only his Samurai paid him more visits.

He had asked them sometimes, why they came to him. Most didn’t understand it themselves. The ones who could articulate an answer never stuck around long, because they were already evolving into another subtype tied to a different member of the Organization. And his own Samurai mostly said it was because they felt a strong connection to him, of camaraderie, of calm, of something familiar.

Roxas began working off his boots by the door, the Dusk not letting go of him. When he was freed, he strolled over to his bed, giving his rider the chance to untangle herself before alighting on the bed himself. She took the hint, and he sat down.

“You have questions, but I’m not sure I have all the answers.”

They covered the basics first, what Nobodies were, and what the goal of The Organization was. They talked of thoughts and memories--she was the girl Axel had danced with, and her boyfriend wasn’t here, and she was angry without being angry without holding a grudge--and questioned the details of plans. If she had known him better, she would have agreed with Demyx in that their Superior was a blithering idiot, so why should she have had to give up her heart when she was going to go looking for it again anyway? There were some ‘I don’t knows’ thrown around then, but one of the older Dusks had popped up, and Roxas had thought to ask if it knew if the Sorcerers knew what Xemnas knew.

It didn’t know, but went off to get a Sorcerer anyway.

Then they talked about the hearts in the moon, and how the Heartless and Keys came into play. She knew of those dark things, but they had only been the stuff of scary stories before her world turned upside-down and inside-out. The Keys were tricky, but she wanted to know, and he was able to show her his. More gaps came to light, but she didn’t push because she knew that no-one knew about the Keys, so it was a miracle to see one, let alone two, in an un-lifetime.

The Dusk came back, with a few more, and a Sorcerer. Apparently, according to zer, it was possible for the heart of a Nobody to be reincarnated before they stopped ‘not existing’, if it’s Heartless was destroyed. So a new human and an old Nobody could--in theory--be walking around at the same time. So there was always, always, always the smallest of small chances that Someone might be holding one of their hearts rather then just Something. And a Nobody could feel when their Heartless died--provided they had come into ‘not being’ before it’s destruction. But mostly they just wanted any heart they could take, and if her heart bonded to one of The Organization, then so be it, for that was the way of conservation. Hearts could be broken, transferred or lost, but never destroyed. Even if they were shattered, the bits and pieces could be fused and mixed and melted down into a new heart, even if it took the bits of two lives to make it.

That’s when she broke in and outright said Xemnas was an idiot. The Sorcerer chuckled dryly and asked the Dusk what other options she had. She had said none, but then began explaining the stupidity, and what they should have done instead.

She was told to come to the debriefing because she was a survivor of the world. Then the Sorcerer bowed out and left.

A baker’s dozen of Dusks had quietly filled the room.

/I don’t think I like . . . I would have liked your leader./

“Language is strange. Say ‘like’, it’ll be true enough until the echoes fade. Enjoy it.” Some of the lesser ones slithered onto his bed. “But yeah, not everyone ‘liked’ him. Hey,” Roxas turned to one of them, “how goes the packing?

/All the familiars are away. The odd things Eighth-sire picked up are sitting on the unloading table for all to claim./

He shook his head. Goody, sex things out in the open for everyone to see . . . and . . . use. Eww.

/Liked . . . Who didn’t like your leader? What changed their minds?/

“Marluxia, and Larxene. And their minds didn’t change, they’re just dead.”

/Oh,/ curiosity, /what happened?/

So followed a short story of fate and alliances twisted and warped past the breaking point and how only the clan’s mad jester knew the whole truth, but even that was flawed and imperfectly remembered. She smiled that she wasn’t the only thing he could kill.

/Only The Organization looks human. Otherwise we are ‘lesser’ Nobodies. But where do the other ones come from? None of the ones from my world became like . . /

“The mid-caste subtypes? That’s because they aren’t born or created. They evolve from Dusks. In theory all of us could turn into Dusks. Xemnas knows how, but he doesn’t share that kind of knowledge.”

Thought. Silence. More Dusks wandered in as others wandered out. Little elements, proof that a being lived in this room, were gathered up and taken away to be cleaned or disposed of. Even after he would leave for the meeting, his bed would be reset as if he’d never used it in his un-life.

/What happened to the ones whose masters died?/

And then he was truly stuck because that was a question he had never thought of himself. He knew the five subtypes slowly disappeared from this Castle. He knew some of them may have even reverted into being Dusks. But for creation’s worth, he did not know what happened to the majority of them.

/Will you tell me about them? All of them? Even the ones who died?/

He agreed, and then they talked until it was time for them to stop talking, and the last thing he promised her was that he knew what Axel knew, which was where they all died, so he could force the other to take them there.

* * * * * *

“--and when we arrived on Galdrial, we found it locked. Actually we felt ourselves passing through the buffer, meaning it’d been locked ‘fore we got there, not as we traveled, or after we landed. We stuck around long enough for assessment, before moving on to Tethlem instead--”

“You converted Tethlem?” Sunset eyes narrowed in a parody of exasperation. “Tethlem, the hub-world? Tethlem the trading point between several of the Mercantile Side-Worlds existing just beyond the realm of Disney? Tethlem, which we were considering as a trading point ourselves prior to sending you off?”

Axel’s lips drew into a tight line of red, looking like a smeared trail of old blood. Figures Xemnas would think of these things, and not tell any of them. “No Tethlem the backwater redneck hick country that no-one bothered to make any kind of reports about because it was in the middle of ground-zero for all the invasions we were ordered to do. A hub-world is useless without any outlaying worlds to trade with.”

Saïx looked up from the transcript of this report that he was writing up for filing. It would be used as reference for something later. He didn’t react beyond a low growl in the back of his throat, not wanting to say something the Superior doubtlessly already had poised on the tip of his tongue.

The five of them (himself, Saïx, Axel, Roxas, and the Dusk) were in his study. They still held weekly meetings at ‘Where Nothings Gather’, but informal updates were encouraged. More so in this case seeing as Axel brought home so much extra cargo. So there would be no witnesses if he allowed his pet to just tear the infuriating flame into a multitude of macabre confetti, that he could then use to flavor his casseroles over then next month or so. However, being as The Organization needed all the manpower it could get, the impending demise of the troublemaker would have to be postponed until his brash actions truly and utterly eclipsed his usefulness, or his sanity took that final plunge down the rabbit-hole.

Xemnas sighed, a great and profound sigh, that was meant to convey the depth of emotional fatigue that he could no longer remember. “That information was classified until we had weighed all the options, and calculated the potential revenue, and necessary goods we would have been able to procure. Furthermore, you were to investigate Galdrial before taking any action, because we had known of the possibility that said world could potentially have opened trading agreements with Tethlem. So conversion of the worlds was not a priority, though I suppose that every world you visited on this mission you undoubtedly left a parting Heartless or Nobody behind? Lovely, that’s potentially twelve other worlds we were studying gone into the darkness.” He would have to think of something above and beyond the usual for them.

“Actually Sir,” Roxas broke in, “Tethlem is the only world we left either Heartless or Nobodies on. We simply visited the other worlds, and took stock of population, economy, and whether they were closed or opened, along with measuring the strength of any Heartless invasions. In the cases where we found the Invasions to be in the initial startup stages, we fought off and destroyed as many as we found, recovering around seventy to seventy-five percent of the hearts.”

Axel shot him a smirk from under his hood.

“And your findings?”

“Here sir.” And he opened a pocket portal, from which he pulled a small stack of detailed papers. He handed these to Number VII who nodded mutely, before scanning through them.

“They are in order Superior. ‘The Key of Destiny’ has kept immaculate records.”

“As he should, and is expected of him. This is promising Number XIII, promising that this mission has not been a utter waste of resources.”

Axel’s eye, arm and finger muscles all started to twitch the way a cat’s would if it were tensing up before pouncing on a hapless birdie, or if it had to remember not to kill the human that gave it food everyday just because said human was trying to give it a bath. Hello, he had gone shopping to make UP for not being able to convert Galdrial.

“Now onto two more pressing matters.” The dark one settled his piercing gaze on the lesser Nobody. “Am I correct in inferring from the communications with my subordinates that this Dusk is undergoing the evolutionary process as we speak?”

“Yes sir, she is.” Roxas kept his hooded head bowed.

“She is a survivor of Tethlem? And the one requiring the presence of one of my Sorcerers to answer to questions beyond the troubling of most minds?”

/Your decisions confuse me./

Feral eyes regarded the speaker just before twin suns set upon her. She knew this moment should have frightened her, but it did not. Fear was already a vague memory of the life left behind.

“Do they?” Xemnas drawled.

/You seek your own hearts above all others, yet you will take any you can catch. Understandable. I’ve been told that hearts can be reincarnated before a Nobody dies, that explains why I was converted. However, you destroy Heartless. I have seen and heard how there are two types of Heartless. One are tools, the other are deadly. They would take hearts from you, with no hope of salvaging them. So why make more heartless?/

Number I sat in a moment of contemplation, index fingers touching each other and the tip of his nose, as his thumbs braced against his well defined chin, the rest of his fingers threaded together.

“I do not believe she will become either a Samurai or an Assassin.” Quick flashes of the tail-end of calculations danced behind his eyes. Just when it looked like he wouldn’t answer, he spoke again.

“You are correct. Naturally occurring, or Pure-Blooded, Heartless are a detriment to our overall goals of, A) Completing Kingdom Hearts, and B) destroying all Heartless, whether made by our hands or not, the ones being made by our hands are the Synthetic Heartless referred to as ‘Emblem’ for the icon they carry somewhere on their bodies. You will also find that they are more colorful than their natural brethren. Emblems serve us unquestioningly, and as such are a boon to our slight numbers in that they are easier to obtain than the chance fate might deliver us more Nobodies on our doorstep in Twilight Town. That place is a vital nursery that we must protect, by and by. We are thus fighting with our enemies’ own weapons by turning them against each other.”

/But you only need enough Hearts for The Organization--/

“Ah, not so. We need hearts for all Nobodies--even such lower-caste ones as yourself. That is why we must glut the moon, or we should have solved all of our worries by now.”

/You make a vicious cycle. As long as you keep making Heartless, you risk making more Nobodies--/

“Which we then gather together to form an army of greater numbers than the Natural Heartless. I don’t think she’ll be a Gambler or a Dancer either. Also only a fraction of those converted into Heartless produce a Nobody as a side-effect. All available data points to the creation of a Pure-Blooded Heartless being approximately three times as likely to generate a Nobody than the creation of a Synthetic Heartless, which is why we attempt to create Emblems over Pure-Bloods. Also in the case of reincarnation it’s more apt to say conservation of Matter and Energy, in this case Captured Hearts and Heartless-Bodies. The creatures have both a definite life-span, and a ‘Mother Nest’ to which they all return to upon death if not sooner. The stolen Hearts return to that place of darkness, and are reforged as new Heartless, which is why we have no accurate tally of their numbers, for when any in The Organization destroy a Synthetic Heartless, the heart can be redirected to our moon for storage, whereas with a natural Heartless the likelihood is dropped by a minimum of half--though in the case of Number XIII he has a greater success rate owning to his weapons of choice. However we are lucky as the findings show that our created Heartless have been generally accepted by the Heartless populace as a whole, even to the point of introduction into the mother nest.”

He sat back, in a show of pride. If he had his heart, he would believe himself content in the knowledge that his answer was enough for the more simple---

/How does that help you if the Synthetic ones are subordinate to the Naturally occurring Heartless? These two had mentioned a strong will could control Heartless, but they wouldn’t fight against Pure-Bloods under their own reasoning. Or what passes as reasoning. Do you mean to tell me this is false, and that the Synthetic Heartless either fight for you inside the nest, or that they have shown you the location of it for you to destroy when you have enough troops? Though you haven’t really convinced me on that point./

“Not a Berserker, no.” He stood, pacing behind his desk. Three options left but she would still do better to spend time with each living member to thus acclimate herself with the others. “It’s more like introducing new lines of code into a computer program. As it stands, there are many more varieties of Synthetic subtypes than Natural subtypes, and the introduction of a new breed of Heartless allows for the self generation of said kind at the wellspring. At the start only Shadows existed--” without looking up he started waving an arm dismissively, “this is all hypothetical, but given their behavior and evolution, highly likely, and until we have evidence to the contrary it is taken as the most likely possibility. Still, in the beginning, there were but Shadows, then through evolution and the reconstruction of matter and reforging of power NeoShadows. We have no idea which subtypes came next, but in levels of complexity, the Invisibles seem to be the logical end product, unless a new breed has come into being outside of our knowledge. Still! By introducing a new subtype into the nest, we introduce a new set of blueprints that the apparatus in charge of birthing new Heartless can use. So in a sense it is like a virus, injecting it’s genetic code into a healthy cell, thus causing it to generate more of itself rather than the normal cellular components it would have wont to produce. So in short, an older Heartless fades from being and a new Heartless is formed from the collected energies, and as it stands it is more likely that some form of Synthetic Heartless should rise from those ashes. So our numbers grow, until the day comes when we can move as one throughout the worlds to destroy all Natural Heartless we find, saving the Synthetic ones for last, so that we might wipe out the species in a matter of two or three well coordinated days. Then, given the amount of hearts released from the destruction of so many vessels, our moon would reach critical mass, and we would at last obtain the power of Kingdom Hearts, which would in turn restore our hearts and the capacity for emotion.”

/And human form?/

“Quite possibly, yes.”

/So you would give up your power for your heart?/

He regarded her with cool eyes, stars birthing and dying as all the calculations fluctuated in a dance of statistics. “I actually am of the belief you won’t become a Dragoon or Sniper either. You’ll most likely make a suitable Sorcerer, and it should be interesting to work with you.” He folded his arms for a moment, for as he started speaking, the gesticulations he made wouldn’t allow them to rest for more then an instant. “No I don’t intend to lose my power, nor do I suspect that any of The Organization will, in that we will be whole, but not reconverted into humans. Our physical structure has been too far altered, and those people we once were are very dead beyond resuscitation.”

/You are the master of these Sorcerers?/

“Indeed.”

/I’ll decline. Our ideologies are too far apart./

The room stopped. The inhabitants didn’t just still, the place didn’t just grow silent, everything screeched to a halt in the most unbelievably quiet way, that, if possible, could render every individual deaf throughout the structure of places that never were. All eyes were on the Dusk.

“You would deny the process of evolution? That’s an impossibility. You will become a mid-caste Nobody, that much is a given. And you will find your choices limited to we eight, for you will undoubtedly align yourself with one of us, based on the outlook on non-life you prefer. But given your inquisitive nature, the most likely candidates are Numbers III, II and myself, and your insistence reduces it again to me, but if you insist on being difficult you harm none but yourself, given the potential power you forgo. Though it would be interesting to observe a Neophyte resisting the---”

/I will not resist evolution. But I will not liken myself to you./

“What choice do you have? We eight are all there are. Three of knowledge, four of sword, one of song, all of gray twilight.”

Her head cocked to the side. /I will become one with the one most like me? Then tell me, who here was a pacifist--or a realist I should say? One who would fight as a last resort? Who here exalted in knowledge for knowledge’s sake? Swam in story books, and reveled in protecting their loved ones without so much as a word? Where are your womenfolk? Where are your masters of poise and practitioners of stealth? Who could breathe green life into this white prison? Or do you all still do these things? For if you have your memories as I do, then you should mimic the lives you lost./

Eyes like half dead embers narrowed. “They are dead.”

/My world is dead. The gods I worshipped were said to be long dead. Why should my master not be dead?/

“Quaint. Your outmoded thinking would have made you a prefect match for Number IV. Though if you should manage to evolve into an Alchemist [3] . . .” More thoughts came and went and came again as he mapped out all the possibilities of this conversation. She would be useful, something of an experiment. “As for memories, it is an unfortunate price we High-ranking Nobodies have to pay for the power we gain, but I myself no longer know what it means to be human, nor do I suspect that I ever knew what that meant after my rebirth--”

“I know.” Roxas turned ever so slightly to face Axel. “I know that Naminé and I were the only ones who didn’t remember our past lives.”

Stillness. Deathly stillness.

“Leave.” Short, clipped, and conveying more falsehood then all the melodramatic body language he had ever employed.

Roxas bowed, Dusk still clinging to him, as he turned and walked out the door.

Hunter eyes flicked over him, before dipping back to white paper.

The door clicked shut.

“He was going into gray-shock.”

Xemnas whirled with killing intent. Those words stopped him short as his mind went off down another rail-line. Time tumbled in that frozen jumbling slide that holds no meaning for immortal nothingness, sloshing and confusing past and futures present in the moment.

“Interesting. Still you have caused more damage then furthering our cause. Your disregard of orders, the fact that this was meant as atonement for causing extensive damage to ‘The Nexus Of Consumption’ [the kitchen] . . . You do not respond to physical discipline, verbal correction, and now even select missions seem moot. Though I suspect I might be judging too hastily on that point. Yet I’m not sure what more damage you could have done on this mission. . .”

“Number XIII is no longer a virgin.” A malicious glint was held within tawny eyes, thumb stuck between sheets of paper.

Axel grimaced. Apparently Roxas had been writing when he was ‘unwinding’ in his room.

Xemnas turned, a mockery of confusion etched on his features. “He showed sexual interest in another?”

“More like Number VIII showed interest in him. They smell of each other, but the reports show that Axel was an informative, if unorthodox, teacher.” Saïx’s fingers flicked along paper edges.

Another pause. “I will need a day to invent something caustic enough for the extent of your misdeeds.” And then he was pacing again.

“Do you even want to hear my defense?”

“If it is short.”

“We ran into Riku. He recognized Roxas’ Keyblades. Talked of Sora, and minor things at Castle Oblivion which I had to correct--”

“Another pound of flesh. Continue.”

“When he talked of Sora, Roxas reacted. That drove him into a fainting spell, probably his brain trying to protect itself from memories it didn’t have. I’m not sure. I tried to talk him through the shock, but things didn’t pan out the way I planned.”

“Of course they did, as they have always done, or I should not have seen fit to send you to control Numbers XI and XII. Though I do agree that fornication was not your original intention, you did nothing to redirect the course of those actions, though I now understand the impetus for bothering to investigate the adult novelty store. Is that the entirety of your defense?”

“No. Ansem lives.”

He stopped pacing. “My Heartless heart.” His eyes flashed like noontime before taking on an evening hue. “The boy has not purified my heart yet?” This would cause problems for him if it did not return to the Natural Kingdom Hearts. Though this did allow him the chance to claim it with his own hands, or even force it to journey to their synthetic moon. However, extracting it from one who at least had the potential to use a Keyblade was unappetizing as the process would lead to a new High-ranking Nobody, one who potentially had greater control over the Heartless then any of the currently existing members. Irritating, but fascinating none the less. A true challenge for him to work on.

“And he’s putzing around with Mickey Mouse.” [4]

Rapid blinking. “I should think any vessel, that some portion of me would choose as a host, would either have higher standards or would be subject to my own whims.”

“I don’t think he knows what he’s saying. Language has always been one of his bigger issues.” As Saïx remembered things, Zexion had to act as translator for both he and Demyx for the first few months.

“If the oversized shoe fits.”

“Regardless Number VIII, this does provoke interesting questions. Did you encounter them when you converted the world?”

“No.”

“Odd, given the distance and sensitivity . . . . all likelihood . . . no, they must . . . of course if that’s true . . . . What was the first action taken to start the invasion?”

Saïx regarded the notes. “Unless Axel has any records forthcoming, he converted one or a pair of humans into basic Shadows, leaving them in the care of some of his subordinates.” Papers shifted and ruffled and the moon-blessed Berserker had another stack of papers to look through, sitting just before his nose in a fiery hand.

“I sent them to the outer settlements, where it’s harder to find people and hearts.”

“Yes, using the Pure-Bloods as bloodhounds to find living hearts. And then of course the Assassins never let the creatures wander from their sight, and held them at bay as they converted their first few mortals. Indeed, they would have had no need of them after generating three or so Synthetic Heartless to do the majority of the country hunting for them, and they should have had sufficient capability to dispose of the Pure-Bloods. Then they could have returned to the higher density of the population in the city and the conversion would have been able to move on two or so fronts.”

Saïx flipped and re-flipped through the notes, comparing what the two non-beings had to say. “You waited several hours after creating the initial Shadows before adding your forces to the fray?”

“We, uh, needed to sleep--”

“Post-Coitus. The act is understandably draining.” Xemnas turned on his heel to face the redhead. “All other anomalies have been consigned to parchment?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Including the world you saw the boy on?”

“Galdrial, but yes.”

The dying fire of his eyes rekindled with a fervor matched only by the hollowness of his body.

The ‘Luna Diviner’ cast a sidelong glance at their leader, and sighed. He knew that look, even in perfect profile he knew that look. He shuffled the two stacks of reports together, he’d go over them later after he finished typing the transcript. Enhanced memory had it’s uses. “Come back after dinner tomorrow night for the verdict. I would encourage you to either make out your will tonight, or at least to finish up any projects your were pursuing for your own entertainment.”

Number VIII gave a shallow bow and backed out of the room.

Saïx began to type quietly, recapturing lost words, and unintended meanings. He had a feeling by the time he was done, his master would be ready to talk, and think of other things besides tilting with windmills. Just as he remembered everything, details plagued Xemnas unmercifully. He was a million thoughts away, traveling faster then any Gummi Ship, chasing the tails of snakes that bent back unto themselves, dancing round and round the Möbius strip.

Bah, she was waxing poetic again. Her moon would have been soon, if not now. Probably now, the last few nights considered, and the reaction to . . .

Saïx finished typing and broke Xemnas from his daze with a firm kiss on his lips. He nuzzled the bridge of his nose into the dark man’s cheek. “What was my alpha thinking?”

“That something interesting is afoot if the boy did not interfere. Meaning he must have investigated and only found Heartless, meaning that Axel let things get out of hand.”

“That’s the norm for him. Why do you give him such free reign?”

Honeyed eyes slipped sculpted arms about a pale waist. “He is an agent of chaos. That chaos is by turns destructive and useful to me. He lives many times when he should be the first or last to die, orders things to his liking--which I happen to know better than he does--and generally does what I expect of him, no matter how much I wish otherwise. Fate is toying with him, or blessing him, or damning him, and that fate is still useful to me, so long as he is predictable. So he is not a loose cannon if only because I know where it is that he will fire at any given point in time. That said, I must still punish him, for appearances if nothing more. It would not do well for him to forget who has the real power in this shadow world.” Now it was his turn to press a lukewarm kiss to tepid lips.

They were locked together for a moment before the Superior pulled back, raising a hand to the other’s chest and cupping it over nonexistent flesh. “Do you miss them?”

Saïx’s eyes glinted sadly. “Yes.”

“Was that why when the garment was deposited onto our bed that you--”

“Yes.” And he tucked his head under his master’s chin, because phantom claws were ripping at something he had never truly accepted as having lost, and he didn’t want to show his belly, even though he knew the other would never attack him.

“What should we do pet? What would have made Isa happy?” Nobodies did not have emotions. But his pet, he could indulge his pet with memories.

A clawed grip tightened. “I want him to hurt. I want the echo of his heart to hurt.”

A slow smile, sinful and serpentine, wound over his coffee lips and flickered in his eyes. He knew the answer, but he wanted his beast to say it. “And what could ever hurt the heart of so base a creature?”

And then Saïx was thoughtful, and thinking of bloody nights so long ago that she didn’t really remember that Isa was dead to the worlds. The bluenet nuzzled his mate again, breathing in the rich musk of hydrangeas and cold steel, and took strength from the knowledge that he would be cared for. Surrounded by the scent of his alpha, the beta within was content, but whined to be pampered, because she was feeling ill-at-ease with the worlds, and such trivialities made her happy.

Number VII smiled. “To see others happy. Or, to see others not reacting as he expects them to.” His smile was cruel, and old blood does not die so easily, as topaz lifted to meet frozen amber. “He doesn’t expect me--expect us to make use of the toys.”

“Then, why don’t we show him how appreciative we are? Surely if physical trauma goes unheeded, mental trauma should have a more lasting effect.” They kissed again, his lovely’s lips tasting of vanilla plants fermented in mortal blood. It was an acquired taste, for sure, but he’d had over half of a decade to cultivate it. He held out for as long as he could, but then his pet started to nip at him, and he needed to see if they would need anything to fill out the costume, and the other reports could wait just for a little bit, because his Sorcerers knew how to organize things so that he could find them, or so that Saïx could read them in bed while breakfast cooled on a tray beside him.

So they slipped through dark space, to make joy in soft sheets. The other four would be home in a day or so, and would likely need a few hours to compose their notes, giving Numbers I and VII all the time they could want with the night.

* * * * * *

Ansem was . . . a cuddler, apparently. This observation came from the fact that the dark bastard had wrapped his arms tightly around his small frame, as well as pressed himself flush to him (and he had ordered his pale form to cling to him with both arms and legs). Or he was doing his impression of an Octopus. Either way, too close for comfort . . . m-metaphysically speaking. And he was much warmer now, like he was a living man. He had also buried his nose into the hair by his temple, so his breath was tickling his ear, which made him feel all squirmy inside. Plus he was under the scholar, who had managed to make a nest of the pillows and blankets tight and warm and soft around them. So really, if he wasn’t violently hateful of his nemesis, this wouldn’t have been so bad really.

Twin harvest moons were upon him, adorning an all too white crescent moon that stretched itself in mirth.

“You awaken.” A soft kiss to his ear.

“Don’t know why.” And he squirmed.

“Sshhh, shh, shhh, peace child, peace. Will you not enjoy this soft heaven with me?” Fingers traced at side-scrolling thorns.

“You aren’t what I want.” More struggling. “And You Almost Killed Me!”

“Yes that,” he stopped to shift his grip, awakening the binding magicks before they had a repeat of yesterday. “Not my intention, I assure you. Very unforeseen; an accident.”

“Ha!” But the magick was pulling him under, and he relaxed before he hurt himself. Save his energy to keep his mind sharp.

“No, really.” And he patted the side of the boy’s stomach.

Huh? It was smaller? Riku shifted his eyes down, and yes, the lump was smaller. It only looked like he was a month past ‘showing’. But why? “What did you do to me?”

“I had to heal you. It’s vexing. Originally I anchored myself to your heart, but bound myself to your soul. Now I’m bound to just your heart, with only limited potential of bodily control.” Now mental control was something else, and he was still working on that. “But I essentially put physical strain on our heart by attempting to regain control of your body. Think of a vine that has attached to a tree trunk. Years go by and both prosper. Suddenly a young ruffian comes along and pulls the vine off of the trunk. Chunks of bark, and maybe some wood go with it, but the hooligan thinks all is well, not knowing that as he has killed the vine, he has just as surely sentenced the tree to death.”

Riku shook his head. He wasn’t sure he trusted the visual. But then he thought back to what it felt like when the madman had being doing whatever and . . .

The dark silveret sighed. The boy had meant to bind their souls together when he spoke last. However, Ansem’s soul had found it’s final peace long ago [5], and all that remained here was his heart, the part indicated in the verbal contract. And that was what was bound, one heart to another. His darkness had shown him the truth, his essence had fused with the kardía tissue, woven itself between the spaces of atoms. From the outside it looked like some of the veins had become swollen and black, a necrotic growth that wound it’s way around like trailing ivy.

None but the gods could separate them now. Well . . . separate and keep them both living.

Still, things had ripped and popped and he’d had to speed up their metabolism to release enough energy so that he could use the released power to speed the natural healing abilities of his host, with the added boost of Heartless regeneration. Though he could only do that when he had a meal to work with. Heartless did not heal, only regenerated, and only after feeding.

He would need to eat none too few more hearts in order to bring his power back up to snuff.

“That’s not going to stop you from trying again.”

Ansem blinked. He frowned, crinkling his brows as he looked down at the lad like he was some new life-form that he’d never seen before. Or that he’d suddenly gone daft, which is what happened to be running through his head at the moment.

“Unlike some, I take note of my mistakes, and endeavor not to repeat them. Until I can guarantee our body’s safety, the reacquisition of total control is all but a moot point.”

Sea-green eyes narrowed. “Hell of a way to say, ‘yes’.”

He huffed. “It was not a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question, therefore how could I have given such an answer?”

“And that breaks down into, ‘did not’. And yeah, you did too.”

The Heartless male flashed his teeth. “You’re being childish and misconstruing my words.”

“Did too.” He was laughing under his own breath. He didn’t dare let it reach his eyes.

“Insufferable minx! Or were these the height of intellectual debates you had back when your verbal sparring partners consisted of the wee few tots outside of the princess and that naive runt?”

“Ha, change the subject all you want, but you can’t change what you said!” Not that he should have been smirking or even happy about that, but it was the principle of things.

A sharp smile blazed in his eyes. “You don’t deny the intellectual deficiency of him, do you? Personally I never believed him to be a natural brunet.”

“Whatever that means. And Sora was a better judge of character than I ever was.” ‘Yeah I was a little better student, but that’s because I would’ve been reamed by dad if I fell asleep, and nagged by mom if I didn’t pay attention, and I love them but I can only take so much grief and guilt in a day, which is why Kairi was the honest to goodness brains out of us, Sora is heart, and I’m dedication or awareness or something--well nothing now, ugh I hate him!’

Ansem was chuckling softly which was never good.

“What I mean, boy, is that he has a very free spirit. Free of care, worry, and most of all thought. The only characteristic he lacks is an ample amount of promiscuity, but perhaps if he should ever return home we will be able to see his antics on that front speak for themselves.”

A shake of silver tresses, with a puff of a sigh. “There you go being so smart you’re stupid again. Why can’t you ever just say what you mean? Plain and simple?”

The dark king shrugged. “I lose you even when I do.”

Pale lids drifted to half-mast. “Suuuuuuuuuuurre. Likely story.”

A tanned nose brushed over the smaller bridge. “Then I shall humor you, and say, I do believe your friend is quite the bubbly little blond.”

“Wha . . .” Was he implying something about Roxas? Or Naminé? God’ammit how the hell did his screwed up mind work anyway?!

“Oh, I think I see. Your world, or at least you happen to be unfamiliar with,” again his mouth twisted around an unpleasant word to utter, “‘Dumb Blond’ jokes.” [6]

“Dumb . . .” His pupils contracted ever so slightly.

“Yes, yes. The pretext for none too few a humorous stereotype, which in turn spawned a plethora of innate though enjoyable comedic tales. Besides being vapid, blonds--both male and female mind you--are said to be shallow, vain, simple-minded, dull-witted, innocent after a fashion, and exceedingly ravenous when it comes to car--”

Riku had tuned out after vapid, and only let show with minor facial twitches a hint of his feelings on the matter. For a few seconds.

“You Asshole!”

“Oh pet, there’s no help for the truth. Your friend is little better then a monkey.”

“Then you’re a fucking baboon! I’m blond! My parents are blond! I’m fucking super-super platinum-blond!” Or rather that’s what the doctors back home considered him.

Ansem soundlessly worked his jaw open and close a few times before uttering the intelligible question of, “What?”

“Both of my parents are blond. I should have been born a normal blond, but instead I got a medical condition that made my scalp hypersensitive, and my hair at least look silver because of some mixup with pigmentation or God knows what.” Too many times had it been only half explained to him. “That’s also why even though we live on a tropical island, I can’t tan!”

Rapid blinking. “Your memories indicted that you considered yourself a ‘silveret’.” Had he misread the situation?

A scoff, more alike then he would ever admit to being to the dark man above him. “Silver hair isn’t natural for humans. At least not humans before sixty.”

“But I’m a natural silver.” And he was much younger than sixty, thank you. His physical aging had been stopped at the agreeable total of twenty-four solar years. . . . According to his dental examination . . . and the bone density tests . . . Oh he was still physically capable, so there! Doubt was not for this form! Doubt was for the human life he’d left behind! He had no place in his heart for such harmful thoughts or diversions!

Riku shrugged, “Didn’t you say that was a ‘perfected’ shape or something? Either way, you’re a Heartless, not a human anymore.”

Grinning coolly the dark scholar replied, “I was human once. This body is based on that form, including hair color. But I never said that I considered this a perfected form. Aloud, if you need the clarification.”

The teen raised a questioning eyebrow. Until Ansem flexed the coils of his mind again, causing him to cry out in surprise. It felt like they had curled in on one another, or knotted together--at the ends, just at the ends thankfully.

“N-no! . . .”

“Yes little one.” And he nuzzled and kissed him. “Isn’t it wonderful? We’re bonding so.”

“I don’t--” he tried to pull his mind back, and screamed. Then Ansem was on him and trying to quiet him again, but it’d hurt, and he hated that trying to separate had hurt so badly. He had to find a way that didn’t hurt so much that he felt like passing out. But his mind had quarantined--wait, no, no the quarantine was holding, but it was like a . . . an elastic barrier? . . . Cellular membrane? How was--- . . . . Oh . . . he had to stop asking questions Ansem knew the answers to all the time. So the . . . membrane . . . porous? . . . .--

A purr above him. “Knowledge slips between us. Emotions will as well someday. But your personality is untouched, as is mine. That is what the barrier has done.” More kisses rained down on the pale thing trapped in the arms of the darkest of nights. And Riku shivered from it, feeling Ansem’s power trying to wind around him, trailing night looking to draw out his darkness to play with. Even in his mind, the Heartless Lord was reaching out, weaving a fine mesh netting over his mind, trapping his thoughts since he couldn’t find a way in.

“N-no. . .” Something, about the way his tormentor’s power prodded his body, touched him, making his twilight shift . . .

Ansem was on the young one, hands pressed firm and flat to his back, and praising his lovely pet, as lips and tongue chased over jutting bones and tender flesh brushed by spilling sliver. His darkness worked at the little one still, hoping to coax out his full company.

The ex-Keyblader whimpered and moaned. If felt like he was opening, inside, something was opening--Nonono, he didn’t want Ansem to get hold of his twilight again! He twisted violently, but regretted it when he felt something grip his mind. The nighttime, reaching in, trying to brush against his core . . .

The dark scholar king kissed at him again, delving deep past unguarded lips. He could almost feel the child’s power pulsing beneath his black velvet hold. He te----

Riku’s eyes slammed wide open as he began to scream bloody murder.

Ansem would have tentatively tugged on his power, but something else was here and tugging at the child’s mind. The nebulous darkness that he had set up around the boy’s psyche and heart alerted him to something--what, however, was unknown--moving about where it had no permission to be. His amber eyes flashed out, his power looking for the culprit. It had tugged at the boy’s mind, but found all things mortared together by Heartless darkness. Thus confounded, the culprit had moved onto--was moving onto the boy’s heart.

Pain. Something had been pulling on his . . . and then he felt an excruciating pain as whatever wouldn’t come free because it was tangled up in . . . something . . . dark. But the pulling stopped, and so did the pain, and so did his screams. He didn’t hurt, but he was frightened, because . . . it hadn’t felt like Ansem. And he didn’t know what the thing was doing now.

The darker male held the little one close to his avatar. He sunk them down slightly, pulling the covers up more, closer to them. This thing . . . as it brushed against his power, he got a better feel of it . . . Alien . . . not his or the boy’s power, no, not even darkness . . . It was . . systematic--moving into the heart after flitting around the mind. He crouched over Riku, watching the shadows like a predator jealously guarding a kill. This thing was sly, but not subtle . . . or rather, not subtle to him. “Can you feel it?”

“ . . . No.”

Harvest eyes narrowed. “It’s still here. It doesn’t care about my power . . . or presence . . . stumbling into all my tripwires . . . . searching? Obviously, but for what? And without knowledge that I’d be here . . .”

Closer it drew, not on a path to meet with them, but near to where they lay. Not that he would let it come too far. The Heartless male lamented the lack of a canopy and bed-curtains, and the protection they would have provided in this realm.

“Nngh!” It was tugging again. His hands flew to over his heart.

Ansem lashed out with his darkness.

He hissed when his shades made contact, feeling the psychic burn. But that didn’t make him let up, no, if anything it spurred him onward, each flash of contact painting a clearer picture of what was happening. On the edge of his perception he could feel Riku curl into him, squeezing tight with thighs and arms as he pressed his forehead to his bared breast, attempting to either hide himself or block out the unsettling feeling of the mental battle. He cared not, only that said force never again came in contact with the lad’s psyche.

The ivory boy continued to hold tight, making noises of discontent at the way the energy reverberated inside his heart. It almost hurt, almost made him feel sick, but this was utterly new, whatever it was, not something he’d run into before. He figured he’d remember something like this.

After time immeasurable, the dark one emerged victorious, the foreign power being either beaten to death, or close enough to flee. He grimaced as he drew his night back, taking in the damage. His lashes were already healing.

“Short-term. Lovely. Well, all things considered, I’ll remember soon enough.”

Aquamarine blinked. “Huh?”

“That . . . was magick. If you had managed a glimpse, you would have noticed that it manifested as a white fog of sorts. All spells--or most, I should say, have some kind of visual effect. Blizzard spells have a blue aura and cast off ice particles if not icicles outright. You’ve seen the other attack magicks, and the Cure family has floral visuals. That spell, whichever one that was, was designed to remove memories. . . Although given the sharp blades concealed in the outer layers, I can’t say whether the goal is temporary dislodgment, or permanent removal . . .” Besides, he wasn’t the target, so it wouldn’t react right to his mind and thoughts.

“Someone . . . wants us to forget something?”

“You. Something or someone wants you to forget something. The spell didn’t give my memories any care, and took no notice of my power.” But who would do it, or what was capable of it? Confusing, intriguing, and annoying given that he hadn’t had his satisfaction for the night. Oh what to do? He couldn’t get a good feel for what the target memories were, and he refused to find out! The only way to know for sure would be to let initial contact happen, and then monitor the site long enough for the memory to begin fading out. And the scholar refused to live through--to let his host live through that agony!

Riku started to loosen his hold. He . . . had been thinking that he preferred the devil he knew to the one he didn’t but . . . too close, much too close for comfort. “It’ll be back, won’t it? Or another ‘forgetness’ spell.”

“Yes. As long as you know what you do, such spells will continue to interrupt our previous activities. And speaking of,” he turned to face the lithe youth, smiling down at him.

“No . . no, not after all that, no.” He was begging, he knew, but really, this was too much.

“Ah, but that is exactly why we should pet, to forget all of this unpleasantness.” And he dipped down to meet the little thing as he tired to squirm away.

* * * * * *

Ambling down the hollow white path, Axel headed back to Xemnas’ study for his ‘discipline’ meeting. Whistling tunelessly, he was positive that even this new and improved punishment couldn’t hope to amount to anything more then comical failure. Honestly, didn’t Mansex and the others understand what they were dealing with here?

There were days he wondered if Zexion lost something in the translation.

But his father had done nothing if not instilled in him a proper trickster’s creed, and so he’d say nothing to correct that oversight. Actually he had done more for him, or he never would have met Emyd to begin with, and ‘Lea’ never would have seen the light of day. But telling him that to his face was never an option, even when he still had his big furry heart, because it just wouldn’t have done well for either of them, being the macho-macho males they were. . . . Ok, he just didn’t fucking wanna, and dad would have gone all ‘dad’ on him, so bleh to that, and if the others didn’t know what he was, fine. Meant he had another ace in the hole come Ragnarök, Armageddon---Were they up to a number three now? Earth sundered, Solaris eaten, yeah him and Dem--wait, Dem wasn’t around to know Earth, so he was up to a third destruction, whenever it was that Zexion had said that The Organization would eventually cave in on itself.

Oh, he’d run out of hallway to walk down and was staring into the lion’s den of a door. Three quick knocks and he was told to enter. All was as he last saw it, save for an extra no-frills wooden chair (also white) placed before the Superior’s desk. Xemnas stood behind the desk, hood down as last time (like Axel this time), with another--Saïx undoubtedly--standing off to the side with his hood up.

“Be seated.” The silver shade indicated the unadorned chair with nary a glance.

Being the curious type that he was, Number VIII did so. In the next instant twin Sorcerers sprung up out of The In-Between and were manipulating their force blocks to ‘cuff’ his wrists and ankles to the furniture. The amber-eyed male turned on his heel to face the redhead with a dispassionate look of pleasure.

“Excellent. We’ll be able to begin shortly as this rate. Now, just for logistic issues, you do remember why you are here today? To serve out the reprimand decided for you by myself in penance for your misconduct on your last field mission about the worlds.” As he spoke, his eyes sparked and glinted, hands constantly cutting through the air to overemphasize his meanings.

“I got that.” Axel tugged at his bonds, not bothering to look up from his trapped wrist. “But why all the bondage?”

“To prevent your escape, of course.” Saïx murmured.

“Phff, whatever.” And he sat back with a smirk, “Nothing you two can come up with can be that bad.”

“Oh?”Xemnas tilted his head ever so slightly to the side. “Then I take it you like to watch?”

“Watch? TV maybe. Lots of good stuff on TV.” Well most of it. . . . Oh . . . crap. “You, you wouldn’t dare . .”

“Dare we what, Number VIII?”

“You’re going to make me watch that purple dinosaur!?! It’s unnatural! A Crime Against Sanity! T-Rexs Eat MEAT! Not ‘P.B. & J. Samichis’!! And They Don’t Fucking Wash Shit Down With Milk!” Evil, evil, evil evil!

“Uh, n-no, no we don’t intend to subject you to carnivorous bipeds from prehistoric eras. We--”

“Oh fuck, not the talking horses, pleeeeeeeease!! At lest give me some LSD before you put that crap on!”

“You,” the hiding bluenet started, “will not be watching anything via a monitor.” The detained male sighed in relief. “But, you will be forced to watch . . . something.”

Jungle green eyes raised a skeptical brow. “O. . . . k . . . sure.” And he sat back quietly.

Their leader nodded. “Yes, well, that is to say, you procured many more articles of cargo then we anticipated, some of which you had delivered directly to us--”

A soft sigh left the nothing in the corner, accompanying the remembered occasion, and sunset eyes flicked to the side in appreciation and worry.

“With mixed reception.” His gaze glided forward to lock with the chaotic one. He shifted in his seat, but otherwise remained undaunted. Another flicker of his gaze back to his pet, and his second in command nodded his consent. A false smile, and he rocked back on his feet. “All things considered your choices were not entirely ludicrous, nor, might I add, will they go unused . . .”

Axel chuckled. Well go him, guess Mansex was a kinky little--- ‘. . . . . . . . . . . Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit , shit shit shit shit shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit.’ He took the liberty to start thrashing about in the chair. The blocks wouldn’t give, so he tried to call up his flames. His hands were incased in a block each. ‘SHIT!’ “Once In My Drunken Life Was Trauma Enough! I Don’t Wanna See You Two Nekkid!”

“Then, Number VIII, I suggest you ‘commit this to memory’ should you ever feel the need to exercise your more lewd thought processes again. Come pet, I think it’s time we begin.”

Phantom butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Master had talked to him about voyeurism before, more for Saïx’s sake than his, wanting to know what the moonlit Nobody liked. But to actually act it out . . .

It was exhilarating to her memories.

“As you wish . . . Professor.”

Axel’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. Damn. Did dog-boy just go falsetto? He wasn’t trying to do the high squeaky girl-voice, but something deep and husky, and closer to his natural sound.

With twitching fingers, Saïx reached up to brush away his hood. The face unveiled was one lightly--and tastefully--augmented by makeup. Light maroon lipstick to stand out against moon-tone skin, cream foundation to let the peachy rouge rest smoothly, which mixed evenly with the royal-blue-purple hybrid of color of an eye-shadow, and long, feathery lashes, probably enhanced by mascara. But that wasn’t all, even his hair had been tamed down into wavy tresses, the ends of which were corralled into half a dozen braids held together by silvery-purple ribbons. Then Saïx began to unzip his robe.

“You wished to see me, child?” And the act was on. Axel was forgotten in his openmouthed stupor.

“Yes, Professor, . . . it was about your lecture . . . from yesterday?” As he spoke, Saïx continued to shed his work suit, which simply pooled on the floor about his ankles. And, Gods damn him, he was wearing the sailor-suit schoolgirl outfit he’d nabbed the other day. From what the pyromancer could see the Berserker’s outfit had only the pink skirt, white button up blouse, pink necktie, generic school crest over the left breast, and frilly baby-blue half length blazer. So no shorts underneath the miniskirt, and he was sporting plain black slip-on dress shoes, with pink cuffed white socks pulled as far up his shapely calves as they would go. . .

!! Fucking hell--He shaved his legs? And no razor burn from the looks of things--if his time among ‘active’ females was any indication. Which would mean . . . that this was a regular fantasy for them. And his chest was padded to fill out the outfit with healthy C-cups, that actually looked real enough to squeeze, rather then the usual tissues in the bra. . . Wow . . . wow . . . mind-fuck. Yeah, fates be damned he was not going to watch anymore.

“That lecture?” Xemnas was blindly flipping through different papers on his desk, purposely keeping his eyes off the other. He opted to keep his normal attire for the scenario. “What of it?”

Saïx stripped his gloves off to uncover finely manicured press-on nails that were painted black but with silver tips, with (if Axel had been close enough to see) little gray plastic decals in the shape of two-dimensional diamonds set in the middle of each silver strip.

“I . . was a little confused by . . . some of the principles you discussed.” The hand-wear dropped to the floor.

“Really? I would think you found my talks quite boring Isa . . .” He brought one hand up, and silently beckoned his lover over.

The third wheel had his eyes screwed shut, and was desperately trying to block out the cheesy dialogue. The bad porno music, however, was all in his head, and there was nothing short of Mjöllnir to said cranium that could cure that.

“Professor?” Confusion, hesitation, all faked with breathy vocals.

“Please, you talk too softly little one. Come . . . closer please.”

A breathy murmur of hesitation, all rehearsed. But ‘she’ stepped closer to the darker male. “Well, it’s just that--”

“Forgive me. Please, sit.” Xemnas stepped back from his desk.

“Ah!” Saïx’s gaze wavered back and forth between ‘the teacher’, his chair, and the desk.

Axel busily began to beat the back of his head against the headrest part of his seat.

“I, well, where would I possibly--”

“Where are my manners? Here child,” he wheeled the black leather office-chair out of the way with his foot, brushing fingertips over the cleared area of his workspace.

“P-Professor!” A flush painted moon-touched skin, and Saïx brought the back of his hand to his lips as he turned his face away slightly.

“Please, Isa . . . it’s after hours.” Cold amber eyes at last lifted to drink in the sight of his lovely.

“Yes Por . . . Doctor.” A small sigh, and she took another hesitant step forward. Batting her lashes, Isa lightly rested herself on master’s desk.

Xemnas smiled and drew close to the pale bluenet, setting one hand on either side of his thighs, fingers splayed wide so that only the tips were touching his desk-cover. “Xehanort.” A startled gasp. “My name is, Xehanort.”

“Yes, Dr. Xehanort.”

Now that was something interesting. It was easy enough to figure out where seven got his faux name from, but you couldn’t anagram that into Mansex with a steel pipe and a twelve ounce bottle of ‘fun jelly’. But there was something else drawing Axel out of his self abuse . . . something in the air . . . something . . .

“Still so formal child?”

“Well,” a bat of lashes, with a coy smile, filled with sharp insight, “you are a Doctor. . .”

“That I am.” He drew one hand up to brush across her midriff, over lower ribs, just dancing over the underside of her ‘tits’. He could feel the breathy shudder reverberate up his arm and though his hollow shell. False heat began to collect in places that should have died out long ago.

And he knew such intensity was mirrored in his pet.

“Doctor!” She drew back in feigned worry.

“Yes lovely?”

“We mustn’t--”

“But child . . . you’re not one of my students.” And his other hand went up to trace the shell of a pointed ear. Even from where he was, the air was heavy with the scent of vanilla, a true signal to the willingness of his pet. “And sitting in on classes not your own,” he moved in for the kill, whispering in Saïx’s ear, “is frowned upon.”

She turned her head to defend herself, and master chose that moment to pounce. Their lips clashed furiously, as the Superior took the luxury to map out the wet cave presented to him. Isa moaned, keening in the back of her throat as her alpha dominated the situation.

‘The Flurry of Dancing Flames’ found himself in a rather awkward situation. On one hand, he wanted to knock himself out so that he could be spared the insanity. On the other, he wanted to know what the fuck was nagging at his mind. So he compromised, leaning back into the chair, he closed his eyes again, taking in a deep breath to clear his mind. It was there, he knew it, that if he could just block out what was going on before him. . .

“P-PROFESSOR!” Xemnas was busily attacking a particularly sensitive part of his neck. The roving tongue dipped down and swirled over the hollow of the collar bone. She knew what came next, her darling was already searching for the personal comfort gel with his free hand, the other already inching up her scrap of a skirt. But there was a different twist to this play today, not that the brash spitfire would be able to see it from his seat. Though they didn’t have the whip with them--and Saïx still had doubts about using it on master, since master adamantly refused to use it on her--and the room wasn’t really built for the kind of leather restraints Axel had found, the studded pink ‘dog collar’ was hiding in one of the drawers, along with the ‘fuzzy cuffs’, and the simple black leather collar the Sorcerer had found was hidden inside her blazer. But oh that wasn’t the best part, for the Sorcerer had also brought back two rings--one of zer choosing, and one of the redhead’s.

Saïx was wearing the three snap one, and master had already strapped himself into the more elaborate harnessed one. So even though the cheeky thing wouldn’t see that they were using them during the act, he’d be able to see the effects, and they would relate that key knowledge afterward. If all went as planned . . . well deep in his echo of echoes [7] Saïx had the vicious little hope that Axel would end up aroused by their display. If so, his bound state would prevent him from relieving himself, and if the Diviner was very lucky, the other wouldn’t be able to peak without some kind of help. And only he and master were here . . .

Oh he could picture it now, Axel restrained and wanton, and at their mercy. He’d ask for permission to leave, and then Xemnas would laugh as Saïx pulled the lanky one from his pants. Oh yes he’d squeal then, begging them to stay away, how he didn’t want their help. And Xemnas would think for a moment, and tell him plainly that forcing him to watch really was just supposed to be a deterrent for next time . . . . And then Saïx would smile cruelly as he flicked his tongue over the straining head, and master would say that what his pet did next would be his just punishment for what he did this time, right before the bluenet would swallow him whole. Then the redhead’s cries of disgust and dismay would sound pleasantly through her ears as she worked him to frenzy.

Just the though of making the other remember a fraction of the indignity and pain he felt to be reminded of what she wasn’t anymore!! It electrified her, knowing that she would be allowed to go so far under the orders of her master . . . Saïx gripped the edge of the desk behind his back with both hands, legs flexing wide on instinct, opening herself as he let out a low growling moan of a howl that reverberated up her alpha’s spine.

And Axel’s.

His eyes opened at the sound, the all too familiar sound of nights long past before the memory of him was even born. And in that horrible instant it was all too painfully clear what it was that was nagging him, and it became clearer with every sound made, with every breath he took, with every twitch of muscle and slide of skin. For a time he sat transfixed, letting the scents wash over him, smelling the life story of the magical girl before him. . .

He owed Luxord about 500 munny. In theory. They couldn’t prove that Marluxia’s Somebody wasn’t a girl, anymore, hence the ‘theory’ part.

Another whiff of pheromones, and the memory of the bet faded back into a shadowed corner of his mind. Fuck the what, she was--no, not really, the scent was similar, but off. Being a Nobody aside, they wouldn’t be related anymore, and she drew power from the moon, which he . . . . well his kids and people did . . . Lycan . . . Saïx’s other was a Lycan . . . a . . . strong one . . . something between an alpha and a beta. Maybe an alpha female who would have made for a strong beta . . . . And suddenly why Saïx was second in command became a little more logical than the sex. . .

Saïx growled again, and he answered her without thinking. Shocked by his own actions he realized that something was wrong with this situation. His sense of smell was limited in this form compared to his true state, but still better then most humans. But right now, it was . . sharper then usually. Another whimper from the she-wolf and he growled again, wanting to snap the bonds holding him.

And for the life of him, Axel was convinced he could do it. His fingers twitched, and curled into the arm of the chair . . . and dug in. Emerald eyes flashed down and--Hel take him--the fingertips of his gloves were pointed. Shit, shit this couldn’t happen! His ears twitched and . . he normally couldn’t make his ears twitch, even involuntarily. He could feel his pupils contracting in on themselves. But then Saïx howled again and there was the sharp pain as they contorted from round dots to feral slits. ‘FUCK!’ Axel slammed his eyes closed with a building growl because suddenly having his spectrum of vision change with the lights on was a bitch and WHY IN FUCK’S NAME WAS HE SUDDENLY ABLE TO SHAPE-SHIFT AGAIN?!? Five and change years he was stuck in this one body and NOW he could shift again?!

They were decidedly past the heavy petting part. Master was still lightly grinding on her, tenderly holding Saïx close and supporting her back. But an evil hand had found that hiding gel and soon she would lose the confining restraints of colored cloth to bathe sky-clad in the lamplight. (If only it could have been moonlight, but master didn’t heal as fast as her, as their times under the pregnant moon showed.) Master took the liberty to pull away and gaze meaningfully into her eyes.

“Now, sweet child, sing for me.” And he flipped up Saïx’s skirt.

The pale one ‘fell back’, artfully dropping open her blazer, revealing the black collar hidden on the side.

“Oh?” Feigned poise, “What have we here little one?” And Xemnas plucked up the leather loop. “Did you intend this gift for me?”

And then Saïx smiled, because this was were things became more to their liking and she cast off her more demure play. “I wanted to give you a ring. But this was the closest I could get.”

“Then you intend for me to wear this?” A nod. “Then I will,” and he lifted the leather to almost to his throat, “On one condition.”

“And what would that be, Doctor?”

Xemnas smirked, and reached into a drawer with the hand that had been holding the gel. “That you agree to be my ever faithful . . . pet.”

A fanged smile answered him. “And what kind of master would you be to your pet? A gentle master?”

“Why, that depends on what my pet wants me to be.” Dead amber eyes hooded with satisfaction as the play unfolded smoothly.

Saïx almost purred her retort. “A good master is always mindful of his pet. A good master loves his pet as much as he loves himself. And a good pet never strays from her master, because a pet needs her master just as much as a master needs his pet to be there for him.” She had said those three little words a thousand times when she was alive, but had never meant them as much as she did after death.

Xemnas sighed, and pulled out the pink collar and cuffs. “Then if my pet will do all that I say, I shall see to it that she never wants for comfort again.”

A keening whimper answered the dark man, as did a lower echo from the male stuck in his chair. Number VIII had almost curled in on himself trying to keep calm. But damn them! They had no idea what they were doing to him! For over five years the wolf’s hunger had laid dead inside him, and at most only the shadows of starvation visited him from one end of a year or another. But what was stirring in his gut now was the real thing, the bloodlust that only one in this wretched non-world could slake, and by the Vanir, Demyx wasn’t here! Of all nights for the dirty-blond not to be here! Of all nights to become himself again! But how?! HOW?!? Fuck it, he’d figure it out later when his bones weren’t grinding against each other, preparing for the shift. The old energy, the old power, would it really come back to him after all this time? Axel looked down at the transparent blocks with contempt, teeth clenching, and newly sharpened . . . He leaned down and started to gnaw on the blocks on his right wrist.

Made not of light nor rainbows, they could never hope to hold him down.

Saïx was now wearing the pink collar, and Xemnas the black one. Saïx also had the cuffs on, hands behind his back. The Superior carefully leaned his lover backwards so that he lay on the desktop, blouse and blazer opened, skirt flipped up, and panties utterly off. His legs were parted wide, and body stood at full attention and then some, owing to the blood restriction of the simple toy. He growled happily, watching as masters’ hands fled to the zipper of his robe. Soon master would be free too, and if Saïx were to let his head drop back he knew that the redhead would be able to have a full view of his form standing proudly over his body. The bluenet panted lustfully, body hard and tight and hot, nipples standing at the ready, thankful that master had made her wear the fake nails to keep from slicing her own palms open.

Master sprang free above her, and she whined from the depths of her lower belly, craving his heat and attention. At the edge of her perception, Saïx could hear the fire type give a growling moan. Ah, wonderful! He was enjoying the show. Oh the devious things she’d do to him for reminding him of his lost womanhood!

The poets had warned against scorning women, after all.

Xemnas ran a gloved hand over the freshly shaved chest, up from the navel to trip along the frilly lavender bra that his beauty was wearing. The cups of them were filled with silicon padding--not implants, but more like the equivalent of shoulder pads. Synthetic tits, meant to sit over real breasts, and supplement smaller busts. They weren’t actually all that extravagant to come by, given how pervasive the occurrence of gender dysphasia was over all the side-worlds, and the darker parts of Disney should one know where to look. Saïx had actually started with the cups of a glue-on ‘strapless bra’ (no fabric or wires involved, just some kind of adhesive, pleasantly squishy, firm gel filled cups that stuck to the breasts in question and somehow managed to ‘provide support’), and a different comfort support, extra padded, bra. But that poor thing eventually wore out, so he cannibalized it, saving only the cups, and discarding the rest. Then he stacked the cloth padding atop the gel cups, and used that to fill out his later lingerie. Which also allowed him to experiment with the use of water balloons, or rather with medical gloves filled with water, being that the double layering provided the protection needed to keep them from being inadvertently punctured. After testing, Saïx liked to double layer the gloves, placing them next to her skin but under the gel cups, which would sit under the padded cups, making for a larger, albeit awkward, bust size for ‘special occasions’. Which was why today she only had the gel and cloth pads, and the one lacy thing. [8]

Besides, Xemnas refused to give the chaotic flame anymore fuel than absolutely necessary.

He gave a soft squeeze to one of the mounds. She gave back a keening moan and a buck. Frozen amber looked down upon his feral beauty and was indecisive for a moment. But then he remembered that this was all to punish Axel, and he shrugged off his robe, and pulled off his gloves, and stood in all his naked glory, his other clothing having been dematerialized before this play began. All he wore now were the collar and the ring with it’s additional cage for his secondary extremities. And so very soon, he’d be wearing his lovely too.

Axel had yet to bite through a block, and the hunger was still stirring inside him. He didn’t want to look, he didn’t want to hear, he certainly didn’t want to smell what was now happening and was going to happen in here. He gave up using his now knifelike teeth, and tried to writhe and twist his way loose, or failing that cause the chair to tip, and maybe even crack or break. Strangely enough, the chair wasn’t moving. At all. Even a little. Axel looked down, and saw that it was anchored to the floor. OK. Time to try ripping the chair apart! At least the joints groaned when he twisted around.

Xemnas placed a hand on either hip and the head of his well oiled length at the quivering entrance. “Shall I make of you a work of art, my lovely?”

“Yes! Xehanort, please! I’ve loved you since I first saw you Doctor!”

A hint of a possessive growl. “And I, you, Isa.” And then with a gentle roll he was in.

Saïx at last let his head drop back, over the edge of the desk, as he gave a long, low, throaty call to the moon, claiming her pride in her alpha and beseeching Luna to continue blessing him with strength and guidance.

Axel promptly lost it, the familiar stimuli being far too much for his failing mind.

Number VII’s eyes had been closed and Number I had been gazing down at his lover. But at the strong scent, Saïx had snapped his attention to the bound one. The redhead was doubled over at his waist and breathing heavy, hands clutching the armrests so hard that they must have been white-knuckled and were visibly trembling. But Saïx swore he heard the splintering of wood. Each time he exhaled it sounded like a short moaned howl that gradually changed into something like:

“RRRrrrrrrooooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrr.”

The pale beta was blinking rapidly. How could she have missed this scent? These sounds?! Yes she had thought the other was still trying to make jokes of poor taste, wolf calls while they mated, but hearing this call, this call was too close to what she remembered from her pack family.

The pyromancer’s head was to his knees, and he was able to take in one long, steady, deep, breath.

The Superior noticed that his pet had stopped playing along, and looked to see what Saïx saw.

Axel swung his trunk upward, face turned to the ceiling, and let out a howl that no human, nor mortal wolf, could ever hope to imitate. It was a sound to shake mountains loose from their earthy moors. A sound that could freeze the deepest salt oceans into glacial labyrinths. A sound that stopped blood, shattered bone, cleaved through souls, and could make Heroes beg the devil for forgiveness.

It was the sound of death. A call for the dead to raise arms.

Saïx drew in a slow gasp of disbelief. His eyes widened to extremes, even as his pupils swallowed his irises, leaving only the thinnest ring of molten-gold, and not even a hint of white.

The Organization’s leader watched in fascination at the sudden change in demeanor of the other. When Axel ran out of breath he started again, yet he not only howled, but roared! More then that he was raging in his chair, eyes wild, glowing green, and--

He drew his limbs in before quickly stretching his body to the fullest, snapping the arms from the seat, and causing the legs to shatter, which made the seat fall and split from the impact with the floor. And the blocks dissipated. The redhead growled inhumanly at the Sorcerers who were foolish enough to try containing him again. His hair was longer, spikier, redder, and he bared a carnivore’s smile at the fools who drew too close to him.

He snapped his jaws and barked at the mid-caste Nobodies, even as he balanced himself on all fours, back hunched like a hunting alpha. Warning growls went unheeded, and he lashed out with tooth and nail, swiping and biting at the subordinate who could not understand to leave the deranged male alone.

The flickering flame finally spied the door, and he crouched low before springing forward. He crashed into the barrier, but it didn’t break. He gave a war howl and lunged again, bodily throwing himself at the blockade.

Xemnas was silently calculating the safest way to proceed, and all logic pointed to letting Axel leave the room before bombarding him with the combined force of every off duty Nobody currently on the world (thank sanity that Numbers III and X had come back from the field earlier today).

The wood wouldn’t give. He wasn’t happy. So Axel took another swipe, with fire trailing from his fingers.

Saïx clearly recognized the eerie claw pattern the burn marks formed.

Frustrated and angry, Axel howled out again:

“RRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOKKKKKKKKKKKKCCCCHHHHHHH!” Then he lowered his head and rammed it into the burnt portion.

“RRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOKKKKKKKKKKKCCCHHHHHHSSSSSS!”

He reared up, encasing both hands in flame, and struck again.

The door exploded, more or less.

“RRRROOOOOOOOOOKKKKKKKKKCCCCHHHHHHHHSSSSS!!!!” And he was lopping down the hall at breakneck speeds.

Before the twenty-odd Sorcerers showed up with transparent blocks blazing, and more than enough Snipers to shoot him where he stood.

He howled and snapped, and lashed out at everything, becoming a spinning force of fiery death. It took a transformed Berserker to the back of his distracted head to take him out. But even that was only for a moment.

But a moment was all Xemnas needed to telepathically order that they take him to one of the subbasements, that was currently in disuse, and to keep him there under constant guard with hourly reports made to him until the silveret decided otherwise.

Now that the redhead was safely out of the way, Xemnas looked down to find his pet’s eyes tearing up and spilling over, as he seemed to be chanting something quietly to himself.

“Pet? Saïx? What is it? What are you saying?” He bent lower with each answer he didn’t receive. Then feral eyes turned to him, and he stilled at the sight of them unnaturally distorted, and almost wholly black.

“Garou [9] . . . Garou . . . Garou . . . Garou . . . Garou--”

“Is that what he is pet? What he was? Does that have anything to do with why he went mad?”

Number VII stopped speaking, and shook his head.

“Then what pet?!”

“He . . . was never Garou. . . . He is . . . an ancient.”

------------------

[1] I’m still trying to figure out how tentacle rape got into all this too . . . . I think I thought that not enough was slated to happen that night, so yeah . . . . ::is shot by her Riku A.I.:: X.x;;

[2] Well Sora got turned into a baby Shadow, so in fanart they always connect him with them. And they even connect Roxas with them too. I would have done that, but in this Alter-Verse the Pure-Blood Heartless--like Shadows--are fighting them. So . . . what’s the Nobody equivalent of a Shadow? A Dusk. So if Sora is related to Shadows, I’m relating my Roxas to Dusks. ^_^

[3] I made up subordinates for the 5 dead members. I have names but no descriptions for the other 4 subtypes. Ah, I was Vexen in a role-play, so I had to make them up.

[4] ::Takes this opportunity to beat Axel to death for the implied Riku + Mickey slash, as she is a supporter of Mickey & Minnie, and SoRiKai, SoRi, and RiKai.::

[5] I’ll look over the reports again, but I’m playing it as he has never met Xemnas, and he has no idea who 2 through 6 were, because they don’t look much like their past selves. So Ansem has no idea about the truth, if he even knows about the Nobodies, beyond what happened in CoM.

[6] ::Shouts @ Ansem AI:: You Sonuvabitch! I’m fucking blonde!!!! ::Kicks::
Ansem AI: Not Anymore!
Lynn: Just because my hair went dark doesn’t make me any less blonde! ::kicks again::
(::An argument revolving around a logic circle begins ::)

[7] Heart of Hearts

[8] Dedicated to my beloved: I’d give you my uterus in a heartbeat.

[9] ‘Gah-Roo’, or so I’ve heard it pronounced. If you’re a fan of White Wolf and the World of Darkness Game-verse, then you probably know the term from their games ‘Vampire the Masquerade’ or ‘Werewolf the Apocalypse’. Garou is the ‘proper’ name for Lycanthropes in that universe, or at least what the ‘pure’ werewolves call themselves to differentiate them from the tainted ones who have been corrupted by . . . . Um, it’s a long complicated story that I don’t actually know all the way, but let’s just say the rabid blood-lusting ones are the filthy ‘Lycans’ or just ‘mutts’, and the sane ones trying to save nature/the world are the ‘Garou’.

AN: [[Removed to comply with new AFF guidelines. Please see the MM.org version for full A/Ns: http://www.mediaminer.org/fanfic/view_st.php/156268]]
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