Whoever he was, he was in terrible shape. It was the trail of blood that had given away his location, but he was far too drained to do much beyond look up as the swish of fabric against tile grew closer. He couldn't feel one of his arms, and his legs felt like deadweight, lined with gashes and cuts. Blood trickled down his forehead, matted his hair, obscured his vision. His fingers twitched for the hilt of his sword, the blade far less bloody than he was. His enemies didn't bleed.

"Well what do we have here?" The swishing stopped, and he raised his eyes wearily to catch a glimpse of blue skin, hair of blue flame, and a toothy smirk. He winced, trying to move. There were more of them. He had to protect the others, give them a chance to escape. Had to hope they were already far away, that they'd boarded an airship and fled. Even if he knew they'd circle back for him once they realized he hadn't followed like he said he would.

The robed figure regarded him with interest, waited a moment, and gestured around at the ruined landscape around them. "Soooo, there a reason you're hanging around this dump? You've got that whole undead look going for you. Nice look, see it everyday."

He took deep breaths, fingers curling around the hilt of his sword as he pressed his back against the chunk of rubble behind him. He had to get up. Had to stop whoever this was from following after his friends.

"Woah woah woah woah woah, hold on a minute there. Death warmed over? Not working all that well. You come with me, we'll schmooze a little, have some drinks, maim a few guys, be home in time for dinner, and everybody's happy. What d'you say?"

"I won't let you near them," he hissed through teeth clenched against the pain, still struggling to climb to his feet.

"Gotta love the good guy catchphrases. Or, y'know, not." The flames atop the figure's head shifted between blue and red for a moment, and he took a few deep breaths. "Calm, calm, I'm calm. Very calm. Look, musclehead, I'm offering you an out. Unless you want the minions to do the maim-kill-destroy thing. Me, I'm all for it, but you look like a smart enough guy. I bet we can work something out."

He paused. "...like what?"

"Oh, I don't know. The usual deal. You come work for me, sign on the dotted line, never wear jeans on Fridays, and we'll see about getting you fixed up and back with your ve-" He coughed. "Excuse me, friends."

"I don't believe you." He blinked as his vision blurred.

"Yadda yadda blah blah." The figure waved his hand dismissively. "You want proof? Let's see what I can do for you." The figure tapped a finger against his chin, a wicked gleam shining in his eyes. "How about this little number. You join up with me, I bring back your little snooky-wookums."

He stared blankly. "What?"

"Oy vey." The figure shook his head, bringing a hand to his forehead. "Brown hair, pink dress, sounding familiar?"

"Aeris...?"

The figure waved a hand dismissively again. "Snooky-wookums is only a signature away. You work for me, I'll go digging around, drag her soul up outta the old Pit O' Despair-" Give it to the Heartless- "Badda Bing, Badda Boom, you've got yourself your little girlfriend back and we all go home happy."

He fell back against the chunk of rubble, his strength fading. His grip on his sword loosened. "How could-"

"Hades. God of the Underworld. Nice to meet you. Now you going to give me an answer, or do I have to wait around for the next ice age?"

He closed his eyes, partially in exhaustion and partially in thought. "...alright."

The figure's glee was unmistakable as a piece of parchment and a pen popped into existence. "Just sign here, and we've got ourselves a deal."

He reached for the pen.