Title: The Deck
Chapter: Severe Punishment and Lasting Bliss
Begun: Christmas. Ended: February.
Summary: Organization XIII is reborn again, but with different goals, different circumstances, and different influences to keep in mind. (AU)
Rated: PG-13
Author's Note: Cannon twisted, world created, Tarot cards studied: story begun. Take your guesses.
Bent out of shape from society's pliers, cares not to come up any higher; but rather, get you down in the hole that he's in. - Bob Dylan
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The Magician stood in a room with no light. There was a bare bulb on a twisted wire, but it was not lit. The electricity had left long ago from this place.
The room was shabby, busted, broken in daylight. The walls, seemingly plaster, peeled away to reveal unforgiving stone. The shredded walls seemed as if scratched at by nails and knives, dented from desperate attacks at nobody. The sensation of the room was menacing as if the departed were present and watching with thinly veiled cravings to destroy the one dare defile their large, empty grave – too late, as well.
A million things could've happened here, its age revealing nothing of the centuries gone by or the occurrences taken place. It was a room of various uses, and to be sure, it was used in various ways.
You could not tell anything in the heavy darkness though, and besides, there were more important things to do then ponder. This was not an idle situation, and the Magician was not an idle man.
He was extremely displeased to be in this room, (wouldn't you be?) and weary of something he had yet to start. Meticulous caution would be needed for every step. A cold sweat broke on his skin and he panted, though softly. He shifted slightly closer to the table, and then drew himself away again sharply –though he had thought himself resolute.
In front of him on this table, four extraordinarily important items lay. They were a cup, a pentacle, a wand, and a sword. These few objects would fix the very dirt on which The Magician stood, fix the feebly surviving land.
He was their savior.
And of course, the items would fill the vacant hole within him, within them all. Perchance, with these objects, that would be fixed as well.
To you this may seem very unimportant indeed, but what do you know, honestly?
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The Magician did not consider that maybe his creations would want to destroy this world?
He did not consider that these beings would have urges, cravings, mortal selfishness and jealousies? He did not consider, even, that they would be contaminated by the underestimatedly vast sin of the world?
It's to his own fault, really. Selfish bastard.
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The Tower was the third to open her eyes.
She sat up from her position face-up on the ground, holding herself up on her palms, jumping slightly at the clatter of a coin falling from each of her eyes – she hadn't realized they were there, and now her eye lids felt cold without them.
Her shocked countenance quickly disappeared as she picked herself off the ground, brushing her black cloak off and looking around with flat indifference – 'About time.' The Tower quickly recognized where she was and shook her pale hair, combing a hand through it; dust fell from her in waves.
As soon as her hair was free of dirt, dust, and spider webs, strands lifted automatically from the rest, forming two antennae-like, aerodynamic appendages.
The Tower spat on the grime-covered floor of her family mausoleum, looked around in contempt, and walked to the exit.
In the outside world a staggering amount of things had changed. Dirty children shuffled along the street with their heads down, staring at the sidewalk; there was a paved asphalt street, but it was deserted of anything but piles of trash and boxes, soda cans and rotting food. There was not an adult around. The mausoleum where she had been lay to rest was ragged and filthy, the left side of the roof sagging greatly under time's weight; large, ugly weeds and dead shrubbery littered the plot of land.
A midday sun was clouded by a haze, a hideous mix of brown, purple, orange, and green. This haze obviously did nothing to shield the Earth from the sun, for she felt its rays burning her fair skin immediately.
Buildings that had sprung up around her mausoleum were characteristic less and indescribably bland – It seemed that nobody had lived or worked in them for years and years.
The stench of the place was overbearing, and The Tower pinched her nose in distaste. She turned to the nearest child and grasped him by the arm, wrenching him roughly off the sidewalk. Continuing to clench his bicep so he wouldn't run away, she asked, sweet, "Where are you going?"
The kid looked up and Larxene let go of him, actually pushing him away. His face was mutated, his eyes huge and like an amphibians, double eyelids blinking over diamond pupils. His cheeks were scaly and his neck seemed to be tinted green in a rash of some sort.
'He' stumbled, mouth opening to show rows of little, sharp teeth. He made a horrible screeching noise that left the Tower's ears ringing.
None of the children looked up. As the mutant gave one last shrill squeal, then ran to the opposite side of the street, it was quiet. The last echo silenced, and the soundlessness of the landscape flooded back, a stillness that the Tower hadn't noticed before. It was unnerving, and she soon fled from these freaks,quickly and quietly. Only a soft rustle of her cloak was heard.
No-one noticed. They continued to shuffle to wherever they were going.
She was forced to become stealthier as sounds began to reach her ears (though inside she was relieved). People were shouting and crying out in anger, and as she looked there was a run down bar, seemingly the only life in the area. The Tower scoffed in disgust at the red-faced men, and relaxed. These weren't enemies, just idiots with no idea what was going on around them.
Openly she crossed the empty street to walk on the sidewalk where the bar was, giving it one last scope before she moved on. To her surprise there was a working television inside, though it was barely showing a picture and it was impossible to hear over the noise from this far away. The Tower sighed in annoyance, but entered, heading straight for the television. She watched, keeping a weary eye on the rowdy bunch around her.
"South Street was in absolute chaos today as two unknown strangers set it aflame. The death number is currently unknown, but the whole block of tenement houses are burning to the ground. We can not find anyone to put out the fire at this time, nor do we know how a fire could've spread this quickly without gasoline. The people living in these houses are in dire need of a place to stay, so any kind souls – the arsonists have left a calling card, it seems!"
The newscaster was walking to the left, the cameraman following her. She knelt, and a card was seemingly stuck by one corner an inch into the cement. "How did they –"
The television broke in a sprinkle of sparks and a few people near The Tower cried out in surprise.
"Already getting into trouble, I see." The Tower sneered, a bloodthirsty smile growing on her lips. She quickly headed out the door, goal in mind.
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The tarot card The Tower depicts a tall tower being struck by lightning, a blazing fire beginning to form. Two people fall from the tower, expressions of great shock and misfortune upon their faces, falling to their doom below.
The Tower represents an unexpected change that affects one in a vital way. There is no altering this change, nothing to do but regroup and move on.
Guess who?
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The Emperor and The Star were approached by a man not long after they were reborn. They were standing on the edge of a cliff about 100 feet above the ruins of a modern city. No living being could be seen, and it was unnerving.
"So much has changed…" The Emperor had stated in wonder.
"The whole world can't be like this, can it?" The Star, the shorter of the two, had asked, also in awe.
"It doesn't have to be." A man behind them voiced. They both turned. This man was finely dressed in a sharp suit and tie. His face was plain; the only noticeable feature a small scar on his cheek, running horizontal with his jawbone. His grim smile was unnatural.
"Oh?" The Emperor questioned. "How so?"
"Are you interested?" The man answered, not necessarily answering said question. The Emperor was not used to being ignored. He stared at the man, offended, while The Star answered, "Yeah, why not?"
The Emperor seemed to want to speak, but the man nodded his head to The Star. "Then come with me, both of you. You're lucky I found you first – bloodthirsty sons-of-bitches wandering around here will get you rather quickly."
"Reassuring," The Emperor said as he and The Star shared a skeptical glance before following the man's retreating back. The two of them weren't the type to spare unnecessary words, and apparently neither was this strange man, for it was silent for the entire length of their trip. The Star found it somewhat hard to keep up with the two older men as they walked across the rough terrain, but he did not complain.
Finally they seemed to reach a city – different then the one they had looked over in dread a few hours before. This one had a sterile feel to it; the air seemed thin and The Emperor and The Star were very uncomfortable upon entering. There was no one at all on the streets, though there were a few trees (The Star was amazed – he hadn't known if he'd ever see one again!). A slight wind blew through the green, though somewhat dull, leaves.
There was overall something off about it all, The Emperor thought. Inhuman. And then he realized what it was, or maybe remembered what it had always been; he couldn't quite be sure.
A city of Nobodies.
These cities were a spectacle though they were few around the world, The Emperor remembered. The longer and longer it had taken them to find and rebuild Kingdom Hearts, the more strange things happened, things that they hadn't planned for; such as more souls without hearts being reborn.
You see, The Emperor was catching on a bit to this, though he showed nothing. No need to upset his young companion, after all. His memories were fuddled, but he had a sharp mind, and he was quickly recalling all that had occurred before his death. But one thing didn't add up – how the hell was he still here, alive and walking?
Had they regained their hearts? He doubted it; he felt the same as before... Before what, though? He longed to know what happened.
The man with the scar led them to the side of the vivid black asphalt road, bringing them to a grayscale building and opening the door. Inside it was a stylishly furnished penthouse, with feng sui furniture placement and a large one-way bay window on the north side, overlooking the empty street and then, in the distance, more of that empty, dry land. The room was in gray and blue tones, and it gave off a very cold, impersonal feel.
He sat on one of the low couches, very smooth and relaxed. The Emperor and the Star sat across from him, quite the opposite. The Star was trying very hard not to be intimidated, and so he spoke first. "So…?"
After a pause like a sharp cold wind, the man sighed. "I suppose I shall start with a name. I am Benjamin of Trumps, where we currently reside. And I might assume who you are, but it would be better if I got your names as well."
The duo on the opposite couch was simultaneously stumped. "Um… Well, I don't remember." The Star looked to the Emperor, who also shook his head.
"I see. Well, all to be found in good time." Benjamin answered. "I'll try to tell you as much as possible. He paused, and then began once more. "You're living again."
"Goddamn… Do we ever die?" The Emperor asked, incredulous. Benjamin laughed. "You'll keep coming back for as long as you're needed, as far as we know."
"I didn't know we were quite so important." The Star spoke with questions in his eyes.
"I use living in the loosest sense; you are still Nobodies, sort of." The man said conversationally. "I don't exactly know more on that. But there is this; The Magician put me here to wait for you. All of you, hopefully. All thirteen." He paused as if waiting for an answer to this.
The other two didn't quite know what to make of the waiting man. The Magician…? It seemed familiar, but not really, at the same time. "I see." The Emperor encouraged hesitantly.
Benjamin seemed thoughtful. "Nothing? Ah. So, I was put here in place of The Magician. I have no idea where he is right now… I believe he has more information than I do, I had honestly expected him to appear before you began to. But the basic is this: you must restore the Nobodies' hearts."
"Oh, Christ." Benjamin was met with contempt from The Emperor. "Now that sounds awfully familiar."
"We died (again) trying to get our hearts as Nobodies." The Star agreed in a stubborn tone. "What says it won't happen again?"
"Hang it, would you?" Benjamin requested pleasantly. "The world needs a government, a group of people to set it right again. The humans have ruined it. The Nobody counterparts will fix it. It's practically the laws of nature!" He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Our minds are clear and our souls are awakened. We want to be complete; we want our hearts! Then we will fix what the blinded ones have broken, and all will be well as it was when we were all one."
The Star nodded slowly. "Hypothetically, what do we have to do to find these hearts? Is Kingdom Hearts…?"
"It was lost after you all used it incorrectly. Just jump in and find your hearts; great plan! The Nobodies have combed the world, but Kingdom Hearts is nowhere to be found. We have been counting on the thought that you may be able to find it. The original thirteen."
The Emperor did not take kindly to this man's tone. Not one bit. He gazed at him with narrowed eyes. "Our plan was incorrect, and yet your entire race is counting on a hunch. I don't think there are words to describe your hypocrisy."
"Oh, come now, what would you be counting on after a hundred, two hundred, now three hundred years?" Benjamin seemed just as aggressive.
The Star looked to the side. He didn't think he could've lasted that long without a heart. The Emperor did not back down. "It is still a foolish notion."
"Are you saying you will not do it?" Benjamin calmed himself. "You will not save an empty race and free the world of its destitute shackles? Answer me now."
"No, he isn't saying that." The Star looked Benjamin in the eye. "We must talk first." The man nodded, standing up and moving to the other side of the room.
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The Devil and The Moon sat inside one of the many abandoned warehouses of unnamed city in which they presided. Both of them were leaned back, relaxed, comforted after a good anarchistic commotion. The destruction went without motive, but it felt damn good.
This was ultimate; the perfect mix of immortality and humanity. The Moon had had a love for destruction, chaos, turmoil – for life after life. He craved it, now more then ever before, in this new state of being. He craved to be addicted, to kill without guilt, to sin. It was different.
He sat in a chair leaned back on two legs, balancing against a wall, watching the Devil. Said being was silent, sitting on a wooden crate bend over with his chin cradled in his fist. He was deep in thought, seemingly.
"Are we taking the right course?" He asked, unmoving. "I wonder for our purpose."
"Tired of this already?" The Moon questioned. "A devil sick of sins, friend, is a strange sight to see." A curled grin grew on The Moon's face in the dim light.
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The Magician is the male power of creation, creation by willpower and desire. In that ancient sense, it is the ability to make things so just by speaking them aloud.
Reflecting this is the fact that the Magician is represented by Mercury. He represents the gift of tongues, a smooth talker. Also clever with the slight of hand and a medicine man - either a real doctor or someone trying to sell you snake oil.
The 4 suits lay out before him, which in the Tarot symbolize the raw, undeveloped, undirected power of each suit. When the Magician appears, he reveals these to you. The Magician gives a vision, an idea; a mental image of whatever it is that is most wanted: the solution to a problem, an ambitious career, anything…
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