Xigbar was the second in command; no one ever said "No" to him.
Not when he really wanted something, at least; not in the way that he would protest his case or try to wrangle something extra from someone. No, not in that friendly, jokey way. Anyone, even Roxas, could say "No" to Xigbar then.
…but when Xigbar wanted …Xigbar always, always received.
When Xigbar wanted, the other Organisation members were edgy; even the strongest. No one wanted to be the one that Xigbar picked on; because even without a heart, he was cruel, unnecessary and vindictive when refused. More often than not, it was safer to leave; lesser Nobodies found themselves with arrow-bullets lodged into them before dying slowly. Xigbar had excellent aim…always.
Xigbar had multiple toys to utilise, because his wants differed widely.
Axel was good for marking- he bruised like a peach, but wouldn't ever tell. The Flurry had the most wonderful way of putting on a show. He cracked and shattered and the mask was ripped to pieces; so much fun to tear it off of that painted-on whore's face.
Luxord was good for trying to win one over against him. Xigbar liked the pain in Luxord's voice when he lost and suffered the consequences; the Gambler of Fate's cocky attitude and eternal calmness was rattled when he lost, despite all of his protestations and wiles.
Demyx…Demyx was fun; you could do anything to Demyx and he'd sob and cry and come straight back to your side when you snapped your fingers, like a loyal little lapdog who didn't know any better. Demyx bled and wept, body shaking with the betrayal and pain…and the power you received from seeing him, wretched and cowering, was divine...
Saïx was good to fight; never to fuck. Xigbar, although merciless, was not stupid. He was not the Superior; he couldn't have his own way all the time. Saïx hissed and spat and you could snarl right back and send a bullet right into that stupid scar- bang on in the centre- and laugh at the raw fury and the knowledge that you could always dodge it, no matter what.
What Xigbar did not like when he was wanting, was Xaldin.
Xaldin. Xaldin was the third. Only one step below him and still thought he was oh-so-superior; Xemnas liked him better. Probably would have made Xaldin second in command if Xigbar hadn't been more powerful- enough strength, in the end, to topple that column of endurance and poise and send it slamming into the ground with a satisfying crash. It made Xigbar irrationally furious when Xaldin treated him like a child in one of those moods; how dare the Lancer try to say no!?
Xigbar showed Xaldin the error of his ways. If not there and then- as with all the others- then always at a later date; Xaldin required special attention for wronging the gunner.
However; Xigbar's 'moods' were thankfully far between; no one was forced to endure them very often. More often than not, Xigbar would leave or have already been somewhere else when they took him; other people would deal with them. Unexplained murders. Gory slaughters. Destruction. All of them, Xigbar's forte.
However…this was not one of those times. This time, Xigbar was in the Castle that Never Was. This time, there was simply no escaping him.
Most of his peers were seated in the dining room. The atmosphere was surprisingly calm and conversation flowed in small pockets of relaxed spontaneity. Xigbar portalled in- usually one of the first to arrive, which was a warning sign- and took his seat next to Vexen (who, for once, had strayed from his laboratory to find nourishment) and opposite Xaldin. The Lancer was the first to pick up on Xigbar's mood- he knew how to spot it in Two's body language, atmosphere, speech and facial expressions.
"I wanna play a game." Xigbar stated idly, reaching for a bread roll. The room fell silent, save for Axel's soft murmuring to Roxas. No one spoke, but activity continued as normal; the silence was simply due to everyone present being on edge as to what Xigbar was going to say. Whoever made the wrong move would bear the burden of attending to the Freeshooter's sick, twisted wants.
Xigbar liked the silence; he knew exactly what it meant. It didn't matter how they all tried to avoid it- one of them would slip up and present themselves to him, or he would pick one of them. Simple. Fair.
"In fact…I think we all oughta play." He commented, tearing a hunk out of the roll with a worrying savagery. The room dropped several degrees and the air became tense; this was unheard of- Xigbar never picked all of them…only ever one…
Now they were faced with the decision of speaking up and saving the others…or all of them suffering equally. Xigbar was delighted when no one moved.
"'S called, murder in the dark." He explained, with a feral grin. "Reckon you all know howta play."
Tense glances were exchanged; sets of eyes willing each other to stop him.
"I wanna play now. So you all better scat, or I'mma find ya real soon." Xigbar quipped, summoning his guns. "I'll give each a' ya a headstart; thirty seconds- I'm too good t' you all, huh? 'f I were you, I'd be runnin' now."
The tension could be cut with a knife. Demyx swallowed loudly and in his nervousness, he dropped a knife. It clattered onto the floor with a noise like tombstones being slammed in crypts, although it might also have been the mood of the occupants that amplified it.
"Heyyyy, Demmy. Volunteerin' yerself fer first?" Xigbar grinned, cocking the guns and grinning at the blonde. "Arright."
"I-!" Demyx stuttered frantically, shaking his head. "I j-just…I d-didn't mean t-to dr-"
The Nocturne glanced around wildly, searching desperately for any of the others to help him. No help came. He whimpered and cringed.
"Already countin'." Xigbar purred. "Go. Now."
"No."
The single, eloquently-spoken word shattered the tension and replaced it with a new one. Every single set of eyes locked onto Xaldin, who simply dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin and looked for all the world as if he simply couldn't be doing with this whole scenario. He stood, pushing his chair out and taking his plate with him.
"Where dya think yer goin'?" Xigbar asked, quietly. Everyone waited on Xaldin's response; how the Lancer remained calm was a mystery.
"I am not playing games with you, Xigbar. I simply do not have the time." Xaldin replied listlessly, turning his head to give Xigbar a disdainful look. Violet met amber in a struggle, with tiny explosions of charisma crackling and sparking between them.
"I don't think yer gettin' this." Xigbar murmured. "Yer playin'."
"No." Xaldin repeated. "I am not. Nor are the others."
"Mmm…Now, what put the idea that you even got a say in this into yer head, Three?" Xigbar asked.
Xaldin turned his head to face Xigbar fully.
"I spent a long time preparing this meal, Xigbar. It is not going to waste; they are going to finish and enjoy it. It is a pity that you feel that you need to be entertained, but I have worked long and hard for this and I will see it be savoured."
That was one of the unspoken laws that governed the Nobodies; no one ever interrupted meal times. Only the Superior had that right.
"Fine." Xigbar purred, standing, guns at the ready. "Then yer gonna play with me alone."
"No." Xaldin replied simply. "I have a mission to attend to."
Xigbar snarled and slammed his guns down onto the table.
"Since when did you ever get a mission and I didn't know 'bout it!?" He demanded.
Coolly, Xaldin drew out a small, yellow card from his pocket. Anyone who was looking (which was everyone) could identify Xemnas' curving signature from a mile away. Xigbar's upper lip curled in contempt.
"He gave you a mission." He hissed, eye narrowed. Xaldin offered him a small smirk and a shrug.
"Unfortunate timing, no? I'm afraid that none of us can play with you. Such a pity, really."
A portal opened, which Xaldin left through, taking the tension and situation with him as Xigbar spat on the floor where the Lancer had been stood previously, then portalled out himself. Demyx gave a hysterical giggle from the overwhelming sense of doom that was suddenly lifted from him and leant heavily on the table to stop himself from fainting.
Every person sat, or slumped, at that table knew that it wouldn't have been the end of it; not by a long shot…but it was no longer open for debate as to who Xigbar's next target was going to be. They could rest easily and the calmness was restored to the table, as if nothing had ever happened.
---
Demyx was panting from exertion; running half-naked, bloody, broken and hunted, the Nocturne sobbed as he tripped and fell onto the floor heavily. He lay there for just a moment, staining the pristine, marble floor red with blood before he hauled himself to his feet and limped forwards, whimpering. He couldn't stop- not for a moment; if Xigbar caught him now…
…Demyx swallowed a sob and searched frantically for the one person who could save him from the Freeshooter; the only safe haven he was able to reach in time. With a bullet lodged into his left thigh, it made moving very difficult, but he managed it well enough to push open a door and croak out the name of the Nobody who was stood inside the room over the soft tones of classical music that were playing.
"X-xal…-d-din…!"
The Lancer looked up from his painting and frowned, but not pausing in each stroke of the paintbrush against the canvas.
"Xigbar?" He asked quietly. Demyx whimpered again and nodded, panting. Xaldin scowled and jerked his head at a nearby cupboard. Demyx mouthed "Thank you!" at him and dragged himself to it, tumbling in and grabbing two of the Hi-potions that were available. Xaldin always kept medical supplies in any wardrobe, cupboard or closet of his; just out of force of habit from his days as a scientist. Gulping them down and grimacing at the unpleasant taste, Demyx backed as far into his hiding place as he could as Xaldin sent a blast of wind to shut the door. A snap of the fingers summoned Dragoons, which cleaned the floor and the trail of blood splatters leading into the room swiftly.
Soon, there were no signs that Demyx had even been there at all.
Xaldin was prepared when a bullet was sent through the door and lodged into the wall above the fireplace; it did not deter him from the rhythm of his painting. A gasp from the cupboard received a low growl of warning from Xaldin- if Demyx was to make it out of this incident comparatively unscathed, he would have to stay quiet, no matter what.
Demyx, even without his heart, felt something. A ghost of a sense of admiration, pride and thankfulness that he always recognised when Xaldin did something like this. For all his surliness and irritability, the Lancer looked out for the lesser members as best he could.
"Where is he?"
Xaldin did not stop his painting to answer the question. He already knew who was asking- if not from the voice, from the sharpness of the question.
"Who?" Xaldin asked in return. Another shot ricocheted off of the floor near his feet. A voice hissed into his ear; Xaldin was startled by the speed and silence with which Xigbar could approach him, but did not stop painting.
"Ya know who I mean." The gunner hissed. "Where're ya hidin' him?"
"Why on earth would I shelter him? I'm painting."
"I know you, Xaldin. Think yer the Superior…think yer my Superior. You ain't. Yer jack shit to me. Now you tell me where yer hidin' him, or I'll break it outta you." Xigbar whispered. Xaldin shook his head.
"I am not hiding Demyx." He said levelly. "I am painting."
"I really, really hoped you were gonna say that." Xigbar spat angrily, yanking down hard on Xaldin's dreadlocks. The Lancer stifled a cry of pain as his head was pulled back, but still his hand continued the smooth brush strokes.
"Been wantin' t' do this fer a while." The older Nobody growled, twisting the tight, thick braids around his hand. Xaldin grit his teeth, but did not allow it to affect him unduly.
"Gotta hand it to ya, Xaldy…Didn't think you were stupid enough t' try an' pull somethin' like this…not when I'm feelin' needy." Xigbar commented, twisting the dreadlocks tighter. Xaldin growled and tilted his head back to accommodate the aching of his scalp, but still kept his painting in a steady rhythm; Xigbar would not deter him from it.
Xigbar said nothing, but was obviously infuriated with the painting and calm indifference from Xaldin. A quick step forward and Xaldin was stifling a hiss of pain as Xigbar sank his teeth into the side of Xaldin's exposed neck. It hurt; Xigbar's teeth were sharp and forceful on the sensitive skin…but still, he painted.
Demyx watched as Xigbar subjected Xaldin to further punishment; biting, scratching, insults, blows, twisting and yanking hair, gnawing on the Lancer's sensitive ears and all other manner of horrible things. It made Demyx feel sick to his stomach that Xaldin would simply stand still and take it and that Xigbar, who looked out for him more than any other Organisation member, could be so cruel to a man whom he considered as his friend, if not his best friend.
When, eventually, Xaldin was bloody and sore and aching, Xigbar resorted to the final way of upsetting the Lancer that he could think of. His hand slid up Xaldin's arm, fingers reaching for the paintbrush. Immediately, an elbow connected with his ribs. The gunner fell back onto the floor, coughing, whilst the wind-wielder resumed his painting; as if nothing had even happened. A grin slid over Xigbar's face as he teleported to the other side of the canvas, removed it from its easel and shot six neat holes through it, tearing into the artwork. He then proceeded to snap the easel over his leg and toss the pieces to the ground.
Xaldin's hand was poised with the paintbrush, still.
Demyx did not watch the fight that ensued- he simply slipped through a portal and left them to it. He didn't want to see them fighting. There would be blood. The Nocturne couldn't help but to know that he would feel pride for Xaldin's loyalty and sense of duty and decided to be there to fully heal him when the two were finished; for Xaldin was barely weaker than Xigbar- he was only lacking in the Freeshooter's speed.
---
Xaldin was not present at the next day's daily meeting of the Organisation. Nor was Xigbar. It was to be expected; if no one else got the fool's errand of placating Two, it was Xaldin who would be expected to deal with it. Lancer and Freeshooter were curled up in each other's arms and underneath heavy sheets in Xigbar's bedroom, sated in their lust, anger and need for battle…at least, until the next time that Xigbar decided he was wanting.