They say I'm a woman and therefore weak by default. I say those pretentious idiots don't know what the hell they're talking about. I'm not some prissy little dollface for them to coo and fuss over. I think I preferred it when they switched to calling me a bitch because at least it was a bit closer to the truth. Not that it was the whole truth either because they wouldn't have enough brain cells between the lot of them to even come close to that. Retards.
I wasn't too bothered though because all those small-town, narrow minded pricks got their comeuppance once the heartless arrived. They stole their hearts and ate them, ripped open the chests and polished the bones with the blood. To say it was horrific would probably be an understatement. I'm kind of glad I wasn't around to see it.
What's with that look? Obviously I was dead by then. Eyes glazed over and bleeding out onto the sidewalk; hair splayed out on the concrete and skin deathly pale. What did you expect? Me to miraculously gain supernatural powers and fight back to save the town and myself? This ain't some fairy tale kid-I'm not about to go making stuff up just so you can hear about a happy ending and shit like that. Nope, I was one of the first to go.
Except I wasn't really gone, gone, you see? No, you don't see because I haven't really explained enough yet. The thing is, I know I said it before but I wasn't actually dead. Or I was and wasn't at the same time. Am I confusing you? Hurting your little mind? Poor baby. Good. Anyway, like I was saying, I wasn't dead in the passed out, ready-for-the-casket, eternal way. My heart was just missing, along with a few other sensations we call emotions and like to think of as important. Or so old man Superior told me when I ended up joining his pathetic excuse for an Organization. They were all losers there.
Fuck, the only one I actually might have liked a little would have to have been Marluxia. He was a real ass. Sneaky and manipulative too. But someone I could respect all the same. He came up with a brilliant little plan. I went along because I felt like it, and Pinky was a better boss even though I knew he'd screw up in the long run. But nothing that couldn't be fixed. So yeah, I wasn't too worried.
In fact, I was feeling (and I use the term loosely) pretty accomplished actually. I mean here I am, alive and kicking, doing damn fine while all those "manly" buggers who boasted about outliving me by a long shot were already six feet under. Irony, yeah? It can be tough but so can I. After all, I had managed to outlast every single one of them. The heartless stopped them in their tracks but I was strong enough to adapt into some unfeeling, animated mockery of a body. When stated like that, it doesn't sound so hot but who gives a shit? At least I was alive. I was also the only woman in some supposedly super elite Organization. How's that for weak? Last but not least, I was going to overthrow those lazy excuses for men. Granted, I was using someone else's plan, but I didn't care as long as my knives and I got a little exercise.
Have I mentioned my knives yet? I love those things. They're like, my favorite toys ever. When I fight they're not weapons but just another extension of me. Slicing through heartless is no problem at all and they conduct electricity quite well. I was pretty much invincible with them. When I fought, the opponent was always at my mercy. Mine. Because I was strong. Not weak, fucking strong. Got that?
And you know what? Here's what I figure: if I ever end up dying, or fading away, or whatever it is we Nobodies do, I won't care as long as I'm able to preserve my current image, which is my most liked of all.
Not dollface, not weak, but Larxene-only female member in the elite Organization XIII. If I don't, I think I just may come back to haunt somebody.