Shuff. Shuff. Shuff. Shuff. Shuff.

Thick boots dragged along the soot-like dirt as thin clouds of dust spawned from under the figure's heavy shoes. His cloak whipped out behind him like a cape from the force of the ever-so-slight gusts of wind blowing against him as he trailed onward, creating a superhero-esque kind of scene. That would've been humorous had this place not been turned savage and undead as of late. The heat in the air of this post-apocalyptic world caused drips of sweat to trickle down his face and sting his tired eyes awake again. The sun beat into his back with a wrath as harsh and unforgiving as hurricane Katrina.

Underneath the coat he was visibly baking like he had just trailed into a sauna, discreetly cursing the ball of gas in the sky just for the sake of something entertaining to do in the middle of this wasteland. His ears twitched at the far off screeches and other various enraged noises of the city that resonated in his ears. His mind continuously reminded him that they weren't people- not anymore, anyway. If anyone was left human and had actually been around to look at his eyes, they would have met a very bleak and dead, out-of-character Nobody suffocating in those poor, dried things.

A harsh expression was plastered on the man's face, only affected by the all-too-often gnat or speck of sand that flew into his face and mildly interrupted his focus. He rubbed a flushed cheek irritably as he staggered forward, praying to anyone that would listen to him to give him a small rain puddle, or even a bucket of water that he could clean and drink to regain some energy from, but so far as he'd come, no such luck. To test it out, he ruffled his own sweat-drenched hair; as he'd predicted, it had fallen out of its usual style and into his face, along with the usual seven or so strands, but he couldn't be bothered to worry about it right now.

A furious growl erupted from somewhere behind him- Hunter, no doubt. He'd learned how to identify that infected by either their screams or the occasional loud snarls they made. The Nobody winced in reflex as brief flashes of the numerous times he'd been pinned by a hunter ran through his mind like a movie; all those times he'd been left to defensively flail his limbs until he found a weapon to fight it off with. Horrible! It scratched everything in sight, and good lord was it hard to escape those razor-sharp talons. That wasn't the worst or most challenging to beat in his opinion, but their screams were frightening and got annoying after the second one he'd run into.

But still, those were the ones that always got him out of every infected. Only those.

He turned wearily and scoped out the surrounding area, slowly inching backwards as he readied his gun for another bout. All he could hear were the short huffs of breath and grumbles venting through his throat that just barely muffled the clinking of the bullets at his side.

Silence. Not a growl, a hiss, or anything even hinting at where that hunter was or had been. The dark form cursed under his breath as he loaded another few rounds into his shotgun and cocked it, brushing a few dishwater-blonde strands of hair out of his face as the wind blew again. He watched for any sign of a pouncing, ear splittingly loud black dot and moved forward taking gentle steps, his eyes shifting anxiously. He looked to his left- no, nothing there but more baked soil. To the right- nope, just more twice-dead bodies cooking in this frying pan of a desert. Behind him- nothing there. …Above him…?

The man heard a shriek and rustling footsteps from behind him, but wasn't quite quick enough to aim correctly and instead hit a wandering zombie too far away from him to even matter.

Damn strays, he thought to himself.

He fought to force his scrabbling hands into aiming correctly, reaching for his gun of choice quickly enough that he managed to have it in-hand when the hunter pounced on him, pinning him to the ground with the force of a train. A feeling of doom washed over him as the slightly dazed being arose from the brief withdrawal of energy it had used to pounce and made eye contact with him. For a second it was held off-guard, as was he- he'd thought he'd have his chance, but scratching wildly at whatever was in its reach, the hunter started him on an excruciating ride of pain. Demyx grit his teeth to act as a distraction from the pain as his fingers fumbled with the gun, cocking it again and finally pulling the trigger. This time the bullet managed to graze the decaying flesh of the creature straddling him, immediately taking away just enough of its skin and clothing to reveal a glowing eye. The Nocturne thought fast and used the momentary pause in time to knock the hunter back and pulled the trigger again. This time he didn't miss his target.

Its dead body lay still on the ground now as the world seemed to whirl around him for a moment. Everything grew silent as he breathed deeply for a moment, scrambling backwards and leaning on his gun for balance until the oddly foreboding feeling wore off his gut. If he got pinned again, he'd be out another life. That thought replayed itself several times through his fatigued but forcibly awakened mind, charging at the walls of fear and concern in his once dream-addled head. It stirred his stomach wildly as he pulled onward.

His boots scraped the ground as he shuffled backwards into a rock and leaned against it, sliding down to an eventual sitting position and glaring at the blazing sun overhead. It was finally growing darker now as he made his way into the city; maybe the air wasn't as clear or… maybe it was finally getting dark, which he didn't know all the pros and cons to, but at least it would be a little more tolerable temperature-wise.

The thoughts in his head seemed to dwindle and darken as his eyes began to feel really heavy and his head started to lean back… no, he couldn't fall asleep- but a nap was just so enticing… he could sleep when he got to the safe house…! Axel was waiting there… wait, he had to make it there! They had to know if he was alright… if he fell asleep, he would die… but a little rest couldn't hurt…

A gloved hand made its way into his diminishing field of vision for about five seconds before it smacked him in the face and his own gruff voice told him to get back up. He looked down at the hand that had smacked him and then at the gun it grasped tightly. He snorted. Finally he rested his newly-awakened gaze ahead of him toward the gloomy city.

"Great, I'm abusing myself to keep awake."

Demyx stumbled forward like a drunken man on a track of rash abandon, leaning on his trusted gun for support as he got back up and moving again. He choked on the powdery dust in his throat and spat at the ground. His eyes jadedly swept the area for anything within sight that moved or even vaguely resembled an infected of any kind. Luckily everything seemed to be calm at the moment.

For a long while he kept his thoughts and movements silent and smooth with more than just a little struggle. After twenty agonizing but slowly progressive minutes of stifling cries and tripping over his own feet he decided that now was the best and most likely only time he was going to get to heal.

Not even the health pack he'd been carrying completely helped his situation, though. Some of his wounds were still exposed and he was more than just a little wiped. At least now he could run… or what he was so far referring to as 'running'. It was more like a mixture of sprinting, jogging, and falling over his feet like a clumsy giraffe calf every so often. He slid under rock and behind the ever-so-scarce building he came across when the infected decided that he looked tasty enough to eat, and whenever he could, just mowed right through them without looking back.

The taste in his mouth was foul, like stale cigarettes mixed with one of those beers Xigbar insisted he try a couple days ago before his mission. Had it really been days? Turns out, he just wasn't made to be a beer or cigarette guy, no matter how many of the other guys insisted he should at least try to deal with it. As he started to make his way to the outer limits of the city, slate outlines of groups of massive buildings and huge piles of rubble started peering through the musty clouds of pollution that swathed the area. They poured over everything that came close to it, like the freezer in the kitchen did when he'd open it to get some ice cream for the guys and himself. He scowled at the cold impact it made on his bare skin, raising goose bumps like pulling up a weed. His shredded coat thrashed in the sudden gusts of air, causing more shivers to erupt from his body as he continued walking forward, wrapping his arms around himself to keep warm.

…

The city was disturbingly quiet most of the time. Rarely would he actually see whatever was attacking him before his opponent got a good couple swings in, and hordes were numerous and barbaric without all the fog. Most of the time he seemed to make it out okay, but that was only possible so long as no more tanks showed up. Kingdom Hearts, screw Xemnas! Tanks were much scarier than a week of scrubbing toilets with a toothbrush for blasting his music too loud or having to be nagged too many times.

After a while of wandering he'd found and used at least two pipe bombs, twenty Molotovs, more than enough bullets, a second pistol, an axe in lieu of using a guitar, and a police baton that met its end guarding a door for him while he escaped a horde. The more he thought about it, the worse it all seemed; he'd only been here a day or two, and everywhere he went things quickly got shitty no matter how hard he fought. Just one more safe room, he told himself for what seemed like the hundredth time, then I can portal home and we're all good. No more going at this alone, and hell, if Xigbar sees this, he might even say screw it and black-mark this world.

Yeah, like that'll happen. BAM! Chk-chk. BAM! Chk. Xigbar would love this place.

…

Author's Note: I'm trying a new writing style. I'm just now getting into a game I randomly selected off of a shelf at my friend's house, called, 'Kingdom Hearts 2.' I don't know much about the series, nor have I played any of the other games- I just wanted to write about my favorite villain thus far. I get the Nobody concept and think it's really cool, and the missions they have to go on? Awesome. Does Xemnas control them? Or, like, Xigbar? It would make more sense to me, (seeing as he's NUMBER TWO…right? Xemnas seems like the type to have 'work to do', but never really shows progress, which means someone else would have to assign missions and stuff. Xigbar's next in line, so why not? I bet you people already either know this, or I'm wrong and Xemnas does do it.), but by the time you've read this, I'll probably have already written the next few chapters, if I decide to continue this at all. (From there, it's set.) Otherwise, it'll just be a really random drabble. c:

I've never read a fan fiction before (Didn't know what it was.), so sorry if I'm doing this wrong. Please note I'm not keen on everything in the series, nor am I certain of everybody's personality, so (by a friend's suggestion) I'm playing Re: CoM, but only to learn characters of the Organization's ways of doing things. No, I don't own anything but a PS2 and Xbox 360 (Which my sister technically owns the Xbox, and I'm not going to play every game. I like to come up with my own stories, thanks.) Get over it.

Disclaimer: I don't own KH or anything like that.

This implies any other characters or places, etc. stated throughout the whole entire story, so please don't maul me for not posting the disclaimer again. The Left 4 Dead series is Valve's, I think. Thank you.