Demyx's Big Break
I silly little notion I had one day, and I thought I would share with the KH community. Enjoy
Standing in front of the tall skyscraper, a young man in his early 20's, wearing ripped jeans, a light blue Tee, sporting a dirty blonde mullet and green eyes, squared his shoulders and sauntered into the edifice.
He approached the receptionist's desk. "Name?" The woman asked, typing away on a computer.
"Er… um, I'm Demyx." The new name was a little strange for him, but he couldn't go by his old name, considering he was dead. Undead to be more exact considering the dead had a tendency to decay.
"You're the 2 o'clock, correct?" The receptionist de-railed his train of thought.
"Uh, yeah." He scratched his head.
"Your dry cleaning will be delivered to your apartment." She said, her eyes never leaving the computer.
"Huh?" As far as Demyx knew he didn't have dry cleaning… Or an apartment. Actually he didn't have much anymore, since becoming a nobody. Some weirdo did offer him the chance to become whole, but…
"Come with me, Demyx, and I can give you you're heart's desire." The man standing before him, Xemnas as he introduced himself moments before, smiled, opening his arms as if to emphasize his point.
"You can get me a record deal?" The young man grabbed his sitar, eyes brimming with excitement.
The leader's face dropped. "No. Our Organization is for obtaining hearts, because as nobodies, we lack them."
Demyx scratched his head, "Er, no thanks. Y'see, technically I don't need a heart to play my music and I when I sign a deal I'll be living the high life. Running around in cloaks, and… 'working' isn't my scene." The distaste around the word working was quite noticeable.
"But hey, if I don't have anything better to do, I'll look you up!" The blonde picked up his sitar, and left the cloaked man standing in an alleyway of Twilight Town.
After talking with that man, Xemnas, Demyx headed straight for the record company, ready to show his mettle. It was a dream of his other self; to become a famous musician, and now he was able to do it. He actually thought of his second lease on life as a blessing, heart or no heart.
Demyx looked around the lobby floor confused. "Um, hiya. I'm Demyx." He said again to the receptionist. Maybe this time she would hear him.
"Yes, the 2 o'clock. Mr. Sharp is ready for you. You can head up now."
He stood there waiting for the receptionist to tell him what to do.
She stopped typing to meet gazes with him. "You can head up now. Take the elevator to the 53rd floor. If you get lost, ask for help." She said again.
He pointed a finger at himself, "Are you talking to me."
Her eyes met his for a brief moment. "Yes, they're waiting."
He entered through a very elaborate wooden door gilded with gold. Upon walking through the entry he was greeted by a very short, very bubbly man. "Ah, Demyx! I cannot wait to see what you've got for me." The man shook the nobody's hand, guiding him to a chair.
Demyx handed over the demo CD.
"I myself am a big fan of sitars. HUGE!" The balding man enthused. Demyx couldn't wipe the smile off his face, blown away by how well his luck was faring. As a somebody, he never had this much luck with the music industry.
"Y'know, you remind me of someone." The man mused, placing the disk in the player.
A small figment of fear and panic settled itself in the pit of his stomach. Afraid that he could have been recognized as his somebody could he have jeopardized his rise to fame in his undead life?
The man hit his fist in the palm of his hand. "I know! David Bowie. Your hair is styled just like his."
The Melodious Nocturne gave a sigh of relief.
The plump little man pushed the play button, adjusted the volume and sat back in his chair, letting the music Demyx wrought from his instrument fill the room.
At first the music producer smiled, bobbing his little balding head to the music but as the song continued on his smile slowly faded.
"So, where do I sign?" The dirty blonde nobody said as soon as the song ended, grinning wide, ready to put his John Hancock to good use.
The producer took out the disk, handing it back to Demyx. "It's great kid, really it is, but I feel it lacks emotion."
"Emotion?" He parroted confused.
"Yeah, y'know, heart. Like you didn't put your heart into it."
"But, if my music is good enough, I could make it, right?" He was grasping at straws here, desperate. "What if I use someone else heart?" In the literal sense or metaphorical, which ever could get him his fame.
"Kid, people want music that touches their heart. Until you can put your heart into the music, you'll never make it.
"Xemnas, you have a visitor." The Berserker reported in front of the Superior's chair.
The Superior raised a brow, indicating his curiosity and for the blue haired man before him to continue with his report.
"The visitor goes by the name Demyx, and his hair is fashioned in a style similar to that of David Bowie."
"Send him in." Xemnas drawled, a smirk playing upon his lips.
The subject of interest entered the room, shoulders back, and eyes lifeless like that of what he claimed to be. "I want to join the Organization." He monotoned.
"What would compel you to join our Organization?" The Superior inquired tonelessly. "Didn't you say that working isn't in your scene?"
The blonde winced, then smoothed his face, "I need a heart, and I will do whatever it takes to get one."
Xemnas smiled, "Welcome to the Organization Number IX, the Melodious Nocturne."
And that is how Demyx became a member of the nefarious Organization XIII (currently Organization IX).