Part One

Roxas, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Rox-iss: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of two steps down the palate to tap, at two, on the teeth. Rox. Iss.

He was Sora, plain Sora, in the village, standing four feet ten in one sock. He was Roxas in a robe. He was Sora at school. He was Sora on the dotted line. But in my arms he was always Schnoogle-wooglikins.

The clown dabbed the indelible pencil onto his tongue and considered the paper arrayed on the toilet tank. "'Wooglikins'. That's perfect," he whispered. "Now, what rhymes with 'non-consensual?"

He was perched on the toilet's bowl, with the hem of his long leather robe hiked up around his waist so that any outside observer looking under the stall would see nothing but urine-soaked tiles, popsicle wrappers, and empty bottles of hair-care products. He sighed longingly, elbows resting on pale and knobbly knees braced against the toilet tank, and mooned over the picture and poem in front of him. The picture was just a sketch, but it made his heart go pitter-pat whenever he looked at it. Or it would, if he had one, which he didn't. As it was it just made him sweat and quiver and feel funny in various locations, which was close enough to pitter-patting for now. It showed a young tousle-haired boy staring out across a field of popsicles and ice-cream sandwiches, his expression coquettish, his smile come-hither, his only clothes a bunny-suit. With ears. It was drawn with more passion than talent, in crayon, on wax-paper. It was stained. With ice-cream. Hopefully.

"'I think that I shall never-- see-nis,'" Axel muttered, putting pencil to paper. "A poem lovely as Sora's p--"

BAM. BAM. BAM.

The heavy wooden door of the bathroom door rocked with a flurry of sudden blows, rattling the window above him and sending cockroaches scurrying for shelter.

The pencil scurried off the paper as it skipped from his begloved and now boneless fingers and dropped to the tiled floor. Axel stopped breathing. He wrapped his arms around his knees and tried to think invisible thoughts.

BAM. BAM. The latch on the door began to rattle as the person outside began to force it. Axel pounced, snatching the papers from the toilet tank mid-leap and throwing his shoulder against the door.

"'Es? Oo i' i'?" he said, leaning against the door with all his weight (such as it wasn't) and jamming the unfinished poem into his mouth. He began chewing frantically.

"Pull your non-existent pants up and let me in," said the voice from behind the door, silky and imperious and patently female. "I need to pee."

Axel removed the paper from his mouth. He looked down at it and frowned. It didn't seem any smaller. "Why can't you use the girl's bathroom?" he asked, whining. "You are a girl. Technically."

BAM. "Demyx is doing his hair," she replied. BAM. "He can take hours." BAM. "He says the light is better in there. Besides, he pees sitting down and still manages to get it all over the floor." BAM. "At least you just leave curly red hairs on the seat." BAM. "And on the back of the tank." BAM. "And on the floor." BAM BAM BAM. "What are you doing in there, anyways?" she asked, her voice growing suddenly suspicious.

Axel swallowed hard. "I'm plucking my eyebrows. Shoo, Larxene. It takes a steady hand."

"There's no mirror in there, darling," she cooed. "That must make it troublesome."

"I've—I've got them memorized," he said.

Axel winced in anticipation of another deafening knock, but none manifested. He pressed his ear against the dark wood of the door, his hair crunching unpleasantly in the process.

"I think I know what you're doing," she cooed. "Matter of fact, I know I do. You're writing creepy little love notes again, aren't you?"

"NO!" he squeaked, but too vehemently. From behind the door, silence. Then a soft, bubbling giggle, warm but unpleasantly predatory. The knob began to first jiggle, then shudder, then finally to rock back and forth violently, accompanied by the sound of splintering wood.

"You remember what we said about the little boys, Axel," said Larxene cheerily. "When Xemnas finds out about this, you'll wish that—"

A piece of the door suddenly cracked, momentarily deafening him. "-- and it'll take more than drugged popsicles to get--" Larxene said, still cheerily. Another crack appeared. "--and! I'll rip them out one by one by one until you--"

With sudden horror Axel realized the bunny-boy sketch was still in his hands. Tonguing the half-chewed poem into his cheek, he opened his mouth to consume the deviant drawing but stalled out as soon as the stained wax-paper got close to his tongue. The stains seemed awfully vivid at this distance, he noted. He was mostly sure it was just ice-cream. Mostly sure.

The upper hinge popped free with a sound like an emerging champagne cork. Squeaking in terror, Axel twitched and lost his grip on the sketch. He watched helplessly as it wafted away just out of reach.

He reached down for it just as his attacker doled out one final blow, popping open the door and sending a spindly bottle-blonde with mean little eyes, a black leather robe, and antennae-like hair tumbled through the door and into him.

"Urf!" said Axel, as a pointy knee drove itself into his groin. "Durf!" he grunted, as a second knee collided with his forehead, driving it into the toilet bowl. "Gluck," he said, clawing at his throat, belatedly understanding that the paper he'd been laboring over was less the tender, delicious parchment he'd been anticipating and more thick and leathery vellum, now lodged firmly in his throat.

Bow chicka wow wow, he thought, turning the palest shade of robin's egg blue.

Larxene sat on the clown's chest, studiously ignoring the frantic hand gestures and high-pitched whistling noises. "Is this supposed to be me?" she asked, holding out the bunny-boy sketch and eyeballing it uncertainly. "Are you making fun of my body, clown?"

Axel shook his head frantically.

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you calling me--flat-chested?"

Axel nodded frantically, then grew wide-eyed, and shook his head.

Demyx swaggered into the bathroom, his hair glossy with a opulent coating of gel. "Have you seen one of my minions sloshing around? I sent it off to fetch me a club soda and I haven't seen the little trait---cutey-pie anywhere."

"I flushed it," said Larxene absent-mindedly. "Do you think this looks like me?" she asked, holding out the sketch.

Axel turned the colour of freshly picked eggplant.

Demyx stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Hm. Sort of. It's not bad. I like the ears. Looks a lot like you. Though it exaggerates your—" He made meaningful hand motions around his chest.

"Go on," said Larxene, her voice carefully modulated. "Exaggerates my what now?"

He tittered nervously. "You know. Your upper bits. Your non-manly bits." He suddenly noticed the purplish figure beneath Larxene. "Say, what's Axel doing down there?" he asked.

"Choking to death," Larxene said, smiling sweetly. Her eyes were ice-cold. "What 'bits' would you describe on me as being 'non-manly bits', specifically?"

Just as Demyx was considering how closely he was approaching un-undeath, Namine scampered in, chasing a small watery figure clad only in a top-hat. She screeched to a halt inches from Demyx. The elemental looked up at Demyx, whimpered quietly, and melted into a puddle, leaving only a moist top-hat quivering on the tiled floor.

"Oh my gosh, what's wrong with Mr. Axel?" gasped Namine adorably.

"He's choking," said Demyx, clutching the girl's shoulder and discretely moving her between himself and the seething blonde. "Me and Larxy were just going to deal with that, weren't we?"

Larxene hissed.

Namine knelt on Axel's chest and looked at him intently. His eyes began to roll back in their sockets. "Did anybody try to clear his airways?" she asked.

Larxene laughed. "I wouldn't want any part of ME to touch ANY part of ANYTHING that's been in Axel's mouth. Which includes Axel's mouth and the areas around or within it."

"I was just looking for a bent coathanger," said Demyx helpfully, making fishing motions with his hands.

Namine sighed deeply, plunged her tiny hand into the clown's gaping blue maw, and swiftly plucked the slick wet gobbet from his throat. It looked like a pale white grub.

"Wait a minute, I think I've read this fanfic" said Demyx, looking down at the diminutive lass.

"He's still not breathing," Namine whispered, nudging Axel with one sandaled foot.

"And?" replied Larxene calmly. "If he's dead it only means more ice-cream and less subpoenas." She nudged him with her foot, grinding the tip of her boot into his ribs.

"He's the only one who knows how to bake a quiche," said Demyx.

"So? Wait, is that code?" Larxene asked suspiciously.

Demyx shook his head. "I just really like his quiche. It always leaves me completely at utterly at peace. Blissed out. Like, really REALLY relaxed. Relaxed all over."

"Are you SURE that's not code?"

"Pretty sure," Demyx said, relenting. He frowned at Axel. "Maybe we should perform CPR?"

Larxene looked at him levelly.

"Ah, right," he said. "No cardio to pulmonarily resuscitate."

"No," she replied.

"And mouth to mouth is out of the question, I suppose? No volunteers? Show of hands?" He looked at the two hopefully. "I can't, I'm afraid. I'm allergic to greasepaint. My doctor says I'm not allowed to touch any clowns."

"Ditto," said Namine quickly. "I break out in rashes. Creepy, shivery rashes."

They stood there silently for a moment. Axel began to gently convulse.

"Why don't we hit him with something heavy and see if that helps?" asked Demyx. "Beat him in the lung regions and try and restart something."

Larxene smiled. "You know, Demyx, sometimes I like the way you think. I'll be right back."

She returned moments later holding an enormous leather-bound book. She grinned. "It's my first-edition folio of De Sade's 'One Thousand And One Days Of Sodom: Sodom Harder'." She hugged the book with unbridled affection. "The Marquis himself signed it! In blood-- and other stuff." She hugged it even tighter.

Demyx and Namine looked at one another in awkward silence as the blonde woman sang gentle lullabies to the book and covered it with heartfelt kisses. "Um, what about Axel?" Demyx finally asked.

"What about him?" Larxene replied, wrinkling her face with confusion. "Oh, right, the part where we don't let the clown die. I'd forgotten." She casually dangled the book above his solar plexus and let it drop.

Namine poked Axel in the nose. "He's still not breathing."

"Try the book again," said Demyx helpfully.

Larxene shrugged, and whipped the book at the downed clown once more, this time with a touch of backspine.

This time it worked. With a moist wheezing sound Axel's lungs filled with a mixture of live-giving air and Demyx's brain-damaging cologne. In an instant his sinewy arms snaked out and wrapped around Larxene's shoulders, trapping her in his spidery embrace before she had a chance to flinch.

"Ooooooh THANK you, Roxas, Sora, my saviour, my sun, my moon, my succulent little cantaloupe!" he breathed, eyes still rolled disturbingly backwards in his head. "You're my little blonde knight in shiny black leather!" And with that, he stuck his tongue gratefully into places where gratitude was not welcome. Larxene thrashed helplessly.

"You taste so sweet!" Axel gasped, momentarily detaching from his flailing saviour's non-consensual embrace. "It's like biting into a fresh peach!"

"OH MY GOOOO—" cried Larxene, before once more being silenced by the clown's persistent pucker.

Axel detached once more, eyes still closed. "It's like sucking sweet, innocent, youthful nectar from a –" he began to say, but was cut short by the simultaneous application of boot to shin and forehead to nose. He reeled backwards, dropping the tiny blonde, and clutched his shnozz.

"Uh-oh!" he said, smoke gathering around his boots in anticipation of his patented chickenshit withdrawal technique.

"Ahem," said a manly voice, as rose petals began drifting in through the bathroom door.

Xigbar stepped out of the heretofore unmentioned shower stall. "Hey, do you mind closing the door?" he asked. "You're letting the rose petals in."

Axel frantically willed his vortices of chickenitude to vorticize faster, but in vain, as Marluxia grabbed him firmly by the collar just as his boots were de-corporealizing. "I can't help but notice a guilty look on your lipstick-smeared face, Axel. Be a good... boy... and give Larxene back her lipstick."

"And give me back my bubble-gum, too!" snarled Larxene, lunging at Axel's tonsils in a distinctly non-romantic fashion. Marluxia's free hand shot out and collared the wrathful revenant in mid-lunge.

Marluxia held the snarling blond harpy and the hyperventilating clown at arm's length from each other. "Children, children," he intoned. "This is the third time today. This eyebrow-plucking cover story is starting to wear thin." Larxene snarled and thrust an eager thumb towards Axel's eye socket. Axel bobbed and weaved as best he could while dangling a foot above the floor. Marluxia shook them both vigorously.

Demyx pouted. "Larxene short-circuited my blow-dryer styling her stupid antennae," he said. "And she's always peeing on the floor." With that, her gaze was ripped away from her red-headed prey to bear down on the hapless bemulleted musician. It was like staring down the barrel of a keyblade. A tiny blonde keyblade. Demyx recoiled backwards as she snapped her teeth noisily at him. Axel giggled, since it was always funny when it wasn't him.

"Children, children, and, might I add, children," said Marluxia, staring pointedly at Demyx, then even more pointedly at Axel, scowling. "I think we've been cooped up in this skeezy supernatural youth hostel for just a tad too long." He paused to shake Larxene vigorously. "What we are in need of is a change of scenery!" He paused to shake Axel vigorously. Axel giggled, then sneezed as a shower of rose petals lodged themselves in his nostrils. "We've been stuck in a bit of a rut. We go out, corrupt the innocent, mayhem, mayhem, the occasional encounter with a giant mystical mouse, mayhem, then back for a fistfight or two in the lavatory. We need to broaden our horizons!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms back expansively in yet another shower of rose petals. Larxene and Axel flailed ineffectually in his grasp.

Demyx giggled, because it was always funnier when it wasn't him.

"I think we should go to Disneyland!" said Vexen, holding out a brochure.

"I think we should go to Graceland!" said Demyx, holding out a equally gaudy pamphlet.

"I think we should go to Vegas!" said Luxord, leaning in through the doorway, wearing only a black-leather towel. He had no pamphlet.

"I think we should go to Thailand!" said Axel, grinning feverishly and proferring, disturbingly enough, a pamphlet. Marluxia shook him vigorously.

"Dudes, I think we should go to China," said Xigbar, dangling from the light-fixture.

"You were just there!" snapped Marluxia. "And some kid mistook you for a fifteen year old pretty-boy!"

"I'm changing my vote to China!" said Axel, waving a hand-drawn pamphlet over his head. It was drawn in crayon.

"I think we should go somewhere where I get to kill Axel," hissed Larxene.

"I can get behind that!" said Luxord.

"Sounds good by me," said Vexen.

"That'd be cool," said Xigbar, giving a thumbs-up.

"Alright, camping it is!" said Marluxia.

"We don't have to leave this hostel for YOU to go camping," muttered Larxene. He shook her extra vigorously. Her hair antennae thwapped against Xigbar's dangling face, making him flinch.

"Yes, camping it is!" he said merrily. He dropped Axel, who landed in a clatter of bones, corsetry and broken crayons. Then, moving across the bathroom, he dropped Larxene in the bathtub. When she, naturally enough, pounced through the air towards Axel, he clotheslined her mid-air with ease, dropping her to the ground in a clatter of gelled hair and knives/cutlery.

"And, by the way, if you two don't get along right now, I'm revoking YOUR blow-dryer privileges—" He pointed at Larxene. "—And YOUR eyeliner allowance—" He pointed at Axel, who looked as if he might cry, if he weren't afraid of making the eyeliner run. "—without hesitation. Are we clear?" He glared at Axel. "Got it memorized, clown?"

"Humph," hmphed Axel.

"Loud and clear," said Larxene, teeth grinding so hard that sparks shot out. "Yay. Camping. That. Sounds. Like. Fun."

"Oooh, I think so too!" chirped Demyx. "What's your favourite part of camping Larxene?"

"The axes. The alone time. The hurting... chipmunks...in the alone time. With axes."

"I like S'mores best of all!" said Demyx.

"I like marshmallows," said Axel. "Wanna know why?"

"NO," replied everyone.

Axel pouted.

Marluxia clapped his hands declaritively. "We're going to delegate! Larxene, you pick up the camping gear. We'll need axes—"

"Yes. We. Will."

"—Weenie roasters—"

"Yes. Yes. We. Will. Need. Lots. Of those."

"—Rope—"

"Don't worry—" Axel began to say, but Marluxia pointed warningly at his own tragically unadorned eyelids. Axel pouted.

"—Tents – one for the girls—" He paused. "The girl."

"Yes. A. Tent. For. The. Alone. Time." Said Larxene.

"Annnnnd one for the boys!' he exclaimed, spurting rose petals. "Saix, we'll need some firewood. Go to the park across the road and get us some firewood."

"Immediately," droned Saix.

"Demyx, make us some Kool-aid," said Marluxia.

"A-Axel's recipe or the one where we stay awake and can breathe?" whispered Demyx worriedly.

"The latter. Luxord, teleport down to the KoA and get us a nice, roomy spot near the toilets with as few witnesses as possible."

"Done and done," Luxord said, schlorping away into a vortex of horror.

"Dude, maybe—maybe you should have told him to put some pants on," said Xigbar, still hanging from the ceiling.

"I could say the same to you," said Marluxia. "It's like being in butcher shop."

Xigbar just shrugged.

"So, Xigbar, why don't YOU put some pants on—"

"Aw," said Xigbar.

"—And go supervise Saix. Make sure he understands what we mean by firewood. Try to minimize bloodshed." He looked at Axel darkly. "And you, clown -- why don't you go to Town and pick up some supplies."

Axel's eyes lit up. "Can do!" he replied.

Marluxia turned, hesitated, then turned back to clarify, but the clown was gone, with only a few streamers of dark smoke marking his exit.

"Well, shit," said Marluxia.

***

Meanwhile, in Hostel Oblivion's communal kitchen, Demyx tried desperately to cram one of his water clones into a large glass pitcher.

"Master, I'm so sorry. I'm sooooo sorry. I've been practicing the Charleston as hard as I possibly can," cried the elemental being, clinging to the lip of the pitcher with tiny watery arms.

"Silence, traitor!" growled Demyx, smacking the elemental on its watery knuckles with a tablespoon.

Axel, sitting cross-legged on the counter, looked at him sharply.

"What—what was that?" Axel asked cautiously.

"We're going camping!" Demyx chirped, dumping colourful powders on top of the still-twitching elemental.

"Yep, we are," said Axel resignedly, turning back to crayoning his shopping list.

Demyx looked over the clown's shoulder, the final screams of the Kool-aid having faded away. "Marshmallows, graham crackers, quick lime, chloroform, Hershey bars— what—what kind of supply list is that anyways?" he asked, his forehead crinkling with puzzlement.

"Heh. Well, I don't know how you make S'mores where you come from," said Axel, smiling grimly. Snapping his fingers, he disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.

* * *

Luxord stood pantless at the registration booth of the KoA That Never Was. "What'd you mean you're booked solid!" he asked angrily. "It's mid-September."

"I'm sorry sir," replied the campground manager, discretely moving a UNICEF box between Luxord's naked thighs and her vulnerable eyes.

"And it's monsoon season!" he cried, striding towards the bulletin board. The UNICEF box followed in unison.

"Might I recommend," she said, looking frantically at the part of the room where Luxord was not, "the Twilight Town Municipal Campground?"

"What sort of amenities do they have?" he bellowed, slamming his hands down on the counter.

She plucked the UNICEF box from the counter and held it in front of her eyes. "It's located conveniently close to the scenic and historical rail-road tracks," she said hopefully.

"We'll take it!" said Luxord, crowing triumphantly, hopping up and down and pumping his fist in the air. The manager shut her eyes.

* * *

The sporting goods store reeked of outgassing rubber and elk urine and sharpened steel. "Beautiful," Larxene whispered, as she ran her fingers delicately across the glittering array of gardening implements. They were as shiny and perfect as the tears of children. Oblivious to the nervous stares of other shoppers, she swooped and danced from aisle to aisle, like a depraved child in a unsettling candy ! Tarps! Razors! Gasoline!

A clerk sidled up to her as she performed unspeakable acts on a plaster-of-paris garden gnome, his acne flushed bright red with equal parts fear and arousal.

"Can I help you, s—er, ma'am?" asked the clerk.

She grinned up him, revealing a bank of sharp white teeth and too much gum. "Where. Are. Your. Axes," she asked, spitting out a mouthful of plaster. Chucking the gnome over her shoulder she prowled towards him. "Big. Ones."

The clerk started to open his mouth but was quickly shushed by Larxene's bony digit against his chapped lips. "Just. Point. I won't like it if you 'axe' me any questions. Hahah. Just kidding but seriously, if you don't point to the axes you'll envy the gnome. You will almost definitely definitely envy him."

The clerk pointed down the aisle towards a distant corner of the store.

"Thanks," she said, picking a chip of plaster out from between her incisors. "Yer a peach."

* * *

Meanwhile, back in town, a little tousle-haired boy sat despondently on the curb of a bright and busy street. A pretty young girl perched beside him, her face equal parts worry and weary.

"I finally made enough munny to go to the beach, but none of my friends are allowed to go today!" whimpered the boy. "The beach isn't any fun without friends. Friendship is the most important part of any beach experience!"

Kairi threw up a bit in her mouth, but concealed it well and swallowed the vile bile without batting an eye. "There, there, Sora," she said, patting his bony shoulders. "Aren't your animalian hallucinations able to go along?"

"They said they had to help the white rabbit today," he said, pouting. Kairi raised an eyebrow, but maintained a steadfastly sympathetic grimace. She braced for further emotional ipecac.

From around the corner came the jangle of off-key circus music, distorted and bassy. A foul windowless van covered with crudely drawn and disquietingly phallic popsicles hurtled down the road towards them, veering wildly from shoulder to shoulder. In one fluid motion Kairi pushed Sora backwards into the ditch, saving him from near-decapitation by the van's hideously unsafe and patently illegal side-view mirror. The van had a bumper sticker – "If this van's a screamin', you know there's ice-cream in! ... it." The bumper-sticker also appeared to be hand-drawn. In crayon.

"Hi kiddo!" said Axel, stepping out the windowless back doors of the grim vehicle. "Why so glum, my sweet-bummed chum?"

"What?" said Kairi, cocking her other eyebrow.

"Mr. Axel!" cried Sora, his eyes dancing with childish delight. He leaped from the ditch and ran to wrap his arms around the clown's disturbingly wasplike waist. Kairi couldn't help but notice that the clown was wearing a corset. Of course he is, she thought sadly. It perfectly complemented his tight leather trenchcoat and heavy eye-makeup.

"And Sora!" trilled Axel. "My little...lollipop. My sweet little...pickle. My corn-dog! My double-ended purple—"

"Is this a friend of yours, Sora?" asked Kairi warily. The clown turned his cold, fishy eyes towards her.

"And who might your little---companion be, my little...beignette?" Axel asked, dripping disdain.

"This is Kairi!" chirped Sora brightly. "She's my girlfriend."

Axel recoiled from Sora's embrace as if burned. "Your what now?" he asked flatly.

Kairi stepped forward, putting herself between Sora and the clown. "I'm Sora's friend, who is a girl." She met the clown's icy gaze with steady eyes. "And you are?"

"And I'm very glad to hear that," Axel replied, gently shoving her aside. "Sora, m'boy, what was that I heard about all your quote-unquote friends abandoning you here?"

Kairi uncocked both eyebrows, then recocked the left, stepping back between Axel and Sora. "How did you hear that?" she asked the clown. "You were more than a block away!"

Axel considered his options, and finally decided to talk through her. "Me and my pals were going on a camping trip this weekend—today! Now, actually!"

"Are there any beaches there?" Sora asked, eyes sparkling with hope.

"Well, there's Larxene," Axel said sotto-voce. "Yes, sure, totally, tons of beaches. There's gonna be more beaches than you could shake a popsicle-stick at! You are gonna end up so chafed like you wouldn't believe! By-- sand, of course!"

Kairi grabbed Sora by the sleeve and pulled him towards her, away from the leering clown. "You aren't seriously considering going camping with a leather-clad clown in a rape-wagon, are you?" she whispered.

"But—the beach!" said Sora, eyes watery with joy.

"Don't you remember what your parents told you about—do you even have parents?" Kairi whispered.

"King Mickey always said, when I saw him in the mall, when I was three, that I should always follow my heart!" Sora said earnestly.

"Into a rape-wagon?" she asked. "Really? Did he specify that?"

Sora just beamed at her. Kairi sighed.

The clown cleared his throat dramatically, then tapped a non-existent wristwatch.

"We'd love to go camping with you!" Sora enthused. "Can my girlfriend come along?"

"I don't think she'd be allowed to go. By her, you know, parents," Axel said through gritted teeth.

Sora frowned. "Well, I'm not leaving Kairi behind! Because she's my friend, and—"

Kairi interrupted. "Yeah, and friendship is... awesome and great and all that," she said, grasping at straws and Sora's collar with a vice-like grip.

Axel looked down at her, quickly appraising the situation. He shrugged. "Sure," he said. "There's always room for one more in my rape-wagon." He grinned.

"See?" Kairi squeaked, pulling Sora frantically away from the clown. "He just said rape-wagon!"

"No I didn't," said Axel, not missing a beat. "I said my ice-cream truck!"

"I heard the word rape," she said accusingly.

"Perhaps you heard crepe," he said cheerfully.

"But Mr. Axel, you don't have a crepe maker," said Sora querously.

"Why don't you shut your pretty little mouth, Sora?" Axel said.

"His pretty little what now?" Kairi interjected.

Axel frowned. "We're wasting time with semantics. Sora, unattractive girl, just—just get in my ra—my roomy van. I have ice-cream!"

"Oooh!" said Sora. "Is it salty?"

"With me, it always is," said Axel. With a practiced fluorish he opened the windowless back-doors and gestured towards the ebon interior. Sora bounced gleefully into the van with a grace born of familiarity, whereas Kairi approached that darkened maw with a more sensible dread.

"Why do you have a sign that says 'free kittens' taped to the inside window, Mr., um, Axel?" Kairi asked, peered anxiously at a bag of quick-lime and bungee cords just inside the van.

"Because I feel that's a cause anybody can get behind," he replied cheerfully.

"Oh dear," said Kairi, as the door closed behind her. She couldn't help but notice there was no handle on the inside.

"Relax, Kairi!" said Sora. "He's going to slip us some salty popsicles any time now, as soon as we reach the warehouse district!"

"Oh. Oh dear," said Kairi. "I take it you've done this before."

"I think so," Sora replied. He looked somewhat lost. "Though, now that you mention it, everything gets a bit cloudy after the popsicles."

"Oh. Oh FUCK," said Kairi, as the van rumbled to life in a cloud of thick black diesel exhaust. It slipped away down the street ominously, as if never to return. A single popsicle wrapper bobbed along in its wake. Wait, do they make Trojan-brand ribbed popsicles?

* * *

Meanwhile, in the asphalt parking lot outside of Hostel Oblivion, the members of Organization XIII were hard at work trying to pitch a tent.

"Really? Nothing?" asked Larxene, zipping her robe back up. There was silence.