Title: The Front Lines
Rating: ...R. I don't think it's that gory, but then that's me.
Warnings: Very tame slash (Xigbar/Demyx), gore and blood, exploding people, and some fairly minor spoilers for Demyx' scenes in KH2.
Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts is the intellectual property of Disney and Square-Enix.
Summary: Power is a dangerous thing to have, but as Demyx finds out, not using it at all can be just as devestating as using it unwisely.
Power.
Now there was a concept Demyx had never taken much interest in. At least, certainly not in the way The Organization was all about power. The Nocturne cared little for the never-ending cycle of salt-in-wounds followed by backstabbing and wash, rinse, repeat amidst the ranks. He could have even called it pitiable, had a Nobody had the capacity for such.
As it stood, what Demyx wanted was freedom. Obtaining freedom, then holding onto it was its own certain kind of power. Of course it came with a price, but that price was small. Perhaps, arguably not even really a price at all if one considered that they were in fact completely expendable.
One is always so much less at risk of being expendable if everyone underestimates that which makes you expendable or not in the first place. Push that too far however, and you were expendable for being the weak link.
So it was, that when the Superior sent him on a mission under supervision, did Demyx feel the time was right to even the balance in his favour once more. The mission was clear and simple; inundate yet another world with Heartless in preparation for subsequent collection by Number XIII.
"Darn! I thought I'd really had it that time!" Holding up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, the Nocturne glared out at the ship floating just out in the fishing waters off the docks.
His companion the Freeshooter, took the otherwise credible impression of disappointment in stride. He was wise to Demyx's games, but subscribed to a similar but less pacifistic attitude (His number might have said II but Saix actually wanted to spend the extra time with Superior). In this case at least, the plan to start the Heartless infestation on a ship that was otherwise removed from the population would bring the element of surprise to the mainland which in turn should make the spreading much faster. As a sniper, he appreciated the idea, but of course the water-dwelling Heartless Demyx had used had been caught in the fishing nets and dispatched by the incredulous crew before it could have extracted so much as an artery.
"We'll have to try again." It figured that when he'd tried to put some thought into the mission, it would fail due to a minor unforeseen setback.
"Later." Xigbar suggested, seizing on Demyx's usual plans to drag out simple missions as long as possible to avoid the rest of the ever-incoming work load. "They'll be suspicious now. We can't take them by surprise again for a bit at least."
The Salty Dog was a bar that stood off the side of the pier, with a rather nice view of the ocean. At some point, it had probably been meant to be a cozy family pub, but with a thriving fisherman's wharf nearby, it had ended up attracting a different sort of clientele. All in all it wasn't really a rough place, but it was packed with men who did demanding, grueling sorts of jobs for a living. Such individuals were given over to one hell of a lot of cursing, drinking and the swapping of incredible whopping lies. It stood to reason that if there was one thing a Bard was going to be innately good at, it was definitely the later, and Demyx rose rather spectacularly to the task.
In spite of his reasonably more slender build and the very obvious fact none of these well-traveled men had ever seen him before, Demyx had been accepted among their number from the moment he'd opened his mouth. He was even now drinking something that they'd ordered for him, and listening with every pretense of total interest to a man with a weather-beaten face and a very red nose.
"I'm tellin' yeh, I ain't never seen a thing like it…and I've been fishin' these waters for twenny years. We gutted that sucker, and when we spli' it open, it had nothin' like no fish I'd ever seen."
Demyx thought he saw Xigbar incline his head slightly their way from the other end of the bar.
"Go on, Ed!" one of the men yelled from the back of the group.
Ed grinned in a wobbly fashion with his yellow teeth. "Buy me another drink!"
There was some scraping of chairs and shouting for the barman, but eventually Ed's mug had been refilled. He took a fortifying gulp and continued. "It had nothin'. No organs, no heart, no brain, lungs or liver. Nothin'. Damn spooky."
"Couldn't it be one of those jelly-fish critters, Ed?" One man at the back of the group was quick to pass off the story as bunk, evidently interested in finishing this story, probably so he could tell his own.
"I'm tellin' ya. It wasn't any sea creature I've ever seen! An' here's the real spooky bit. Some of my men, not just one, but at least four…they said they saw a pink heart flyin' out of the carcass into the sky."
The men hooted with laughter.
"A pink heart?" one of them yelled. "What kinda pansy-wuss crew are ya commandin' Ed?"
"I've heard of something like this before."
The group fell silent. The newcomer had barely been heard above the din, but Demyx' voice had held just the right amount of fear and intrigue, the promise of a good story to come.
"That so, kid?"
Demyx's eyes glittered with something that could have passed for amusement. "How about: you refill my drink first." He echoed Ed's words from earlier.
It was a testament to just how much power the Nocturne's artistry had, as it was almost a unanimous decision to let him continue, only a few joking cries came, but they were strangely subdued for the once rowdy group. It was as though the temperature had dropped, like a storm was brewing.
"I've heard stories…" Demyx began, his voice low so that they would have to lean forward to catch every word. "…about men with no hearts."
Something loud smacked the window, making them all jump and turn their heads.
"Good Lord, lookit the sea!"
Indeed, the once-calm waters were now a frothing wavy soup and the smacking sound resounded throughout the bar again, as a wave jumped impossibly high against the side of the rock to reach the pane of glass.
Though his tale was apparently forgotten, Demyx continued to speak, as though they'd not gone anywhere. "…a man who could control the water…"
Only one had heard him, processing somewhere in his drink and shock-addled brain the change in Demyx's discourse. He stared at him almost in stupor for a split second before he clutched violently at his own abdomen. He was followed closely by the rest, as they pawed frantically at their own bodies, touching here, grabbing there, apparently unable to decide where they hurt the worst.
The water slammed the windows in a steady rhythm. Demyx was on his feet now, standing on the bar table. It stopped, one beat of silence as a weapon was summoned to a hand.
"Dance, water, dance." A final farewell, or maybe a warning to Xigbar, who was suddenly gone from his seat in a flash of dark tendrils.
Everything exploded with the first chord.
It was impossible to tell if any of the unfortunate patrons of The Salty Dog actually caught a glimpse of the tidal wave that trashed the bar, as most were now a part of the rushing wall itself, pulled apart at the seams into blood and unrecognizable lumps of organs, as every last percent of the water content of every body in the place was forced to do the Nocturne's bidding.
Demyx allowed the ghastly wall to soak him, covering him from head to toe with blood, which stained his blonde hair crimson, and pooled in the hood of his organization jacket. He delicately picked a chunk of miscellaneous meat up off his shoulder by a dangling blue vein and tossed it to the ground as the shadows stirred around him.
"Not quite as subtle as I'd like, but that was some show." Perfectly dry, guts-free and watching the scene from above, Xigbar teleported himself back down to earth.
"Liked that, did you?" The water-manipulator grinned.
"You realize you have a chunk of small intestine dangling from your hair." Xigbar pointed out mildly.
Demyx ran a hand through his now decimated faux-mullet, and dislodged yet another few bits and pieces of bodies. Meantime, the Freeshooter had begun to look immensely pleased with himself.
"What're you grinning about? You didn't do anything." Demyx was sure to place emphasis on the last of it.
"Nah, I just realized that Luxord owes me about five thousand munny. I bet him we'd be back in under five hours."
"How many now?"
"Three."
"Neat. It means we've got time."
With that, Demyx reached forward and tugged Xigbar forward and into him, pressing their lips together.
In spite of how unusual it was for the Nocturne to be quite that decisive, Xigbar allowed it to happen. He knew, or could at least guess at the motives behind the earlier display: Number IX had no desire to be seen as too weak in the eyes of his Superior. So what if he was now a little high on power. The Freeshooter was getting something out of it too.
As cold water and blood soaked their way through Xigbar's robes (Demyx was still dripping) and an insistent tongue was just nudging his lips apart, a shout followed by a blood-curdling scream snapped them both apart. Those who had come to survey the damage had evidently just met the Heartless.
"That's our cue to exit." Xigbar couldn't help but be frustrated at getting worked up, then being forced to abandon. They couldn't very well stay where they were however but at least they hadn't gotten too far with their activity.
"Right." Demyx too seemed off-put, but he said nothing more and whirled away into a portal. Xigbar took a last look at the beginnings of a world about to be totally decimated before following.
Back in the bright hallways of the Castle that Never Was, it was much more uncomfortable and far more difficult to stand being soaked as he was, so Demyx almost immediately left Xigbar with the task of reporting to the Superior.
Number II had no desire to leave anything more than a quick 'it's done', and that's exactly what he did, refraining from any pleasantries with Xemnas before embarking on his own journey to change and collect his winnings from Luxord. He hadn't forgotten about the bet.
For his own part, Xemnas had seen the state of Xigbar's robes and the obvious absence of Number IX. He'd rather thought that this time the Nocturne would have at least felt threatened enough to do his job correctly, but it seemed that he didn't care after all.
Xemnas wasn't concerned. There was a stone in the underworld he'd been researching. When he was done, he'd give the Nocturne one last chance to prove his worth.
If not, well, the Superior had the power to send him to the front lines.
Author's Notes:
Over on one of the KH fanfiction LJ comms, it's been brought up a few times that Demyx has the potental to be quite a bit more dangerous then people make him out to be. When this concept was suggested, I pounced on the idea, as Demyx is one of my favorite characters to write.
The slash? Well, I like the pairing.