Spitting Woodpeckers
ZOMGCRACKFIC.
By Adriatic
Usual disclaimers apply.
Xaldin looked to the top right-hand corner of the screen. His dignity bar was decreasing at an alarming rate.
After being stuck in a briefing with no Xemnas at the head of the table, the Whirlwind Lancer was forced to live through a gathering made awry by several rowdy Nobodies – Demyx, Axel and Roxas to be exact. Although the youngest of the three seemed the most docile at times, today he was the sole instigator, prodding Axel in the stomach in the middle of the meeting and urging Number 8 to "pass it on". Being a Xemnas-less meet, the members took the liberty of seating themselves wherever they liked, and the trio of Demyx, Axel and Roxas took up adjacent places in the Conference Room (with Roxas effectively bumping Luxord off his seat to achieve this arrangement). This caused a chain reaction when Axel "passed on" the prodding motion to Demyx, who in turn nudged Xigbar in the ribs, who then poked Saix in the eye. The Diviner had indignantly burst his cap and flailed his claymore, effectively biffing Xaldin at the back of his head with the hilt of his weapon.
By the time the Lancer awoke from his short coma, Numbers 8, 9, 10 and 13 had skedaddled out of the Conference Room, leaving him very much alone. Well, as alone as one can be, sitting in a room with a madman who's trying to use his spiky claymore as a broom. Saix growled lowly as he tried to sweep pieces of shattered glass into a corner of the room; the result of Luxord's attempt at assassinating Roxas for the blonde's earlier evildoings. Unfortunately, his deadly bottle of rum missed its target and crash-landed onto the hard floor – partly because Luxord has a bad aim, but mostly because the Gambler was as drunk as a drunk Jack Sparrow, and that is very, very drunk indeed. Xaldin could clearly note the fact that Saix was still in his berserker mode, so he said nothing, attempting to inch out of the room like a caterpillar. He should've worn his special white camouflage pants. It would've helped, if not a lot.
"Number three!"
Drat.
Fuming at the fact that he could not pick out a more colourful swearword from his extensive vocabulary, Xaldin raised his head fractionally from the surface of the floor, trying to remain as unimportant as possible. "Uh. Yes?"
Saix zoomed towards him at the speed of a jet plane on crack, swinging his weapon from side-to-side and making shockwaves as he went along, a feral grin splitting his maniacal expression into complete malice. Xaldin had no time to summon his lances and hold them in the super-cool way he usually does (I mean, it is hard to hold six lances at one time and keep them all afloat – he needed a lot of concentration to do that), so he had to grin and bear it as Saix's claymore punched his gut and sent him flying out of the room.
After roughly ten seconds of mindlessly riding on the sheer force of Saix's crazed attack, the Lancer hit something solid and blacked out, not for the first time that day.
"…din…"
"Oh… aldin…"
"…aaaaldin…"
"XALDIN!"
Xaldin threw himself onto his feet in surprise and shouted, "WHERE'S THE FIRE?!" before promptly finding himself thinking why the hell was the floor rising up to greet him.
Thud.
He heard laughter. "Comic, man. I never knew you could even do that." Someone slapped his cheeks. "Duuuude. Are you there?"
"You shouldn't have shouted, mate." Hiccup. "I bet you… ten munny that he'll die from axfee… afsee… asfex… from inhaling too much of the dust on these filthy floors."
Xaldin felt like protesting against this: he had vacuumed the whole fortress thoroughly yesterday, and no one had the right to complain about anything regarding the cleanliness of this wretched place. But since the pain in his middle abdomen was preventing any major movements he tried to make, he had to let it pass. He'll get Luxord back for it later. Strip poker or something.
"Get up, number three. I said I was sorry."
"No you didn't, Saix! You never said you were sorry before!"
"I don't have to."
"You just did."
"That was customary."
"It still counts!"
"…Number Nine, I think another meeting with Cerberus is in order for you."
Demyx hid behind Axel.
"Maybe he's concussed. We should tell Xemnas about this."
Saix passed a 'smile' at Roxas, who has voiced the earlier suggestion. The cerulean-haired Diviner's weapon spun eerily above his head. "I don't think that's in your best interests, number thirteen."
Roxas hid behind Axel as well.
By this time, the pyromaniac prided in the fact that he was the shield of two (unbelievably hot) people at once, but when he realized that he was up against Saix, he felt like hiding behind himself as well. Although he'd conceived that that wasn't entirely possible… or is it?
Xaldin groaned and propped himself up on his elbows. He was greeted by the sight of all the remaining Organization XIII members standing by his crumpled body, sans Xemnas, and Axel, who was running in circles like a dog trying to bite its own tail.
"Axel, what the hell are you trying to do?" This was Roxas.
"I'm trying to hide behind myself."
"…Right." The others replied in unison, turning back to Xaldin.
"Hey, Xaldin? Can you get up, please? Before that huge emblem you crashed into falls on your back…?" Demyx tried to put on his best attempt at puppy dog eyes, but it didn't work because… well. Xaldin wasn't exactly making eye contact. The Lancer was in the process of being intimate with the sexy white floor.
"Hmm." Hiccup. "Breaking spines."
"I really think we should tell Xemnas…"
"I doubt that he can do anything, kid. He'll probably impale us all and laugh as we die of blood loss. Meetings were supposed to be his time to shine, not Saix's."
"…You have a point there."
"Where is Xemnas?" Saix questioned, strangely talented at seeming uncaring of the Superior's whereabouts, but in truth being a teeny bit worried about him at the same time. That was a lie, of course, revealed expressly after this story was written, in which Saix tried to feed Xemnas one of Vexen's leftover love potions and turn the Superior into his personal sex slave so that he could rule a world that never actually existed. He'd also given a bit of the potion to Xigbar and Axel (the latter receiving more because he has "two fishes to hook") but none to Luxord (because he cheated in poker and forced the Diviner to wear one of Larxene's Marquis de Sade cosplay dresses, complete with leather whips and pink throwing daggers. Those apparently came in handy). Anyway.
The rest of the group looked at each other and shrugged, except for Xaldin, who simply moaned in pain.
Something buzzed around them. Numbers 2, 3, 7, 8, 9, 10 and 13 searched for the source of the sound, puzzled. After making sure that it was not caused by Roxas' shaky pacemaker, everyone started to panic calmly.
The buzzing sound halted and gave way to a lot of strange 'phbrrt phbrrt' noises, and to this unusual phenomenon Axel offered a very helpful description: "It sounds like a spitting woodpecker."
There was a general consensus amongst the organization members, including the approval of Xaldin, who was reveling in the fact that he managed to sit up in his pain. However, his glory was pitifully short-lived as he was promptly forced back on his face when the emblem he was sitting under fell on top of his butt… head.
"Woodpeckers spit? Really?" Demyx wondered aloud, blinking naively.
"Do we even have woodpeckers in The World That Never Was?" Roxas asked with a contemplative frown, looking at Xigbar for answers.
"We do, but they never actually existed, y'see?"
"Aaah." The rest of the group replied in unison.
"Hmmm." Hiccup. "Spit."
The sounds changed once again to mold themselves into a catchy beat, and everyone soon found themselves shifting their heads side to side, back to front, and saying random things like "what up y'all" and "30 cent in da houuuuuussse". Roxas breakdanced. Demyx did the limbo. Xigbar smacked him in the rump.
"How did y'll like my rappin' skillzz?" A dark portal formed in the middle of the group, directly above the emblem that had fallen on top of Number Three. Xaldin's pained scream was muffled by the indeed dusty floor.
Roxas had a heart attack in the middle of breakdancing.
Demyx broke his back.
Xigbar gawped.
Saix was cool.
Luxord stayed drunk.
Axel combusted.
Xaldin saw his life (existence?) flash before him.
Xemnas stared at his inferiors through dark sunglasses and a white visor. He was wearing a huge puffy parka jacket and baggy cargo trousers, a shiny gold pendant saying 'Sex Man' dangling from his neck. He has cruelly braided his silver hair into cornrows, and as he grinned, a gold tooth winked at Numbers 2, 3, 7, 8, 9, 10 and 13, making several of them faint.
"Yo, yo
Check out my bling, y'all
Come on, come on homies
Come sizzle me, mamas!"
That was enough to knock out the rest of the organization members. We present you images of twitching limbs, and you may take that expression and imagine it in any way you wish. The monkey writing this story says "hint, hint".
Xemnas looked at the mess he had caused and shrugged. Deciding that he will capture hearts in this new façade of his, the Superior moonwalked out of the Castle That Never Actually Existed and headed for the nearest Heartless-filled world:
…
…The monkey's mind is drawing a blank.
But the Superior went somewhere anyway, to collect lots and lots of hearts, then he returned to the World That Never Was to become Saix's personal sex slave.
And they lived happily ever after.
Oh myh gawhd.
What the fek was that.
First crackfic. Total PWP. ('Plot? What Plot?' Not the other meaning, you silly pervies.)
I can't even believe my hands wrote that.
Somebody shoot the bunnies romping in my brain. They're giving me pimples. D;
Flames are actually welcome. D