Hopefully, someday this passage will make sense. For now, enjoy Luxord and beer.
- Gira
18. UNDER — Luxord and the Vexen Replica were at a standstill.
They were both facing one another, a frown on their faces and arms crossed. Indeed, like so many times previously, the two heads of Darkseid Manor were having a little feud, mostly over the collective fate of the abominations living in nice, comfortable cells below them. The basement of the dark and imposing house had contained the six rejects for a considerable part of their lives — most of it, Luxord would venture to say — and the Replica assigned to run the place with him (Luxord still saw it as incredibly rude that Xemnas would send an even more artificial being than himself to 'look after' him) never ceased to enrage.
"I'm telling you," he said. "They are planning something. We must separate them into different cells."
The Vexen Replica sighed irritably and shook his head. "No, no, no! Even you should know that those specimens couldn't find their way out of a paper bag, much less this building."
The Gambler of Fate rubbed his temples briefly, attempting to stop himself from simply bringing out a card — one little card, really — and setting it to the Vexen Replica's neck — it wouldn't go in, of course, just near… urk. Luxord had to stop himself there. He really wouldn't mind taking his chances with Xemnas if it meant putting a projectile through the neck of this artificial Nobody, but something told him that the outcome wouldn't be a positive one. He had been sitting in this empty house with a replica of one of the haughtiest members of the Organization for heaven-knows-how-long, keeping tabs on a prison cell full of still more Replicas ('abominations', actually, considering the original Vexen refused to call his more dysfunctional forays into the world of Replica creation anything different). Luxord did not see this as a sign that Xemnas favored him.
With a deep breath, Luxord walked across the room and opened the refrigerator. He really, really needed a beer right now, and once he had fulfilled that desperate requirement, he turned back on the Vexen Replica. Luxord was tempted to just say something childish like 'And how do YOU know?', just to make the Vexen Replica blow his top. There was only one thing Luxord liked about Vexen, and that was his amusingly short temper — and now that entertainment could provided anytime, in the safety and comfort of his own home. Of course, the Vexen Replica liked to think he knew exactly why the Nobodies underneath were all a bunch of brain-dead scientific losers, and that was because they didn't immediately display a bloodthirsty but easily controllable personality that the Organization could ride as easily as a gummicraft.
Personally, Luxord thought the whole thing was a little too close to the Beast's Castle incident (oh, he had seen that in the future, yes he had), but one of the problems with being able to see into the future was that most everyone dismissed you as delusional in your own time. Luxord took another sip of beer, holding up his end of the scowling match now going on between the masters of the house.
"Oh yes, drown your sorrows," the Replica sneered. "I'm sure that will make everything all better."
"You shut your trap," Luxord grumbled, draining the remainder of his can of beer. "I'm going down under to talk to them." He left the room to the sound of first the Vexen Replica sighing irritably, and second the Vexen Replica yelping as he was pegged in the head with a beer can.