Research Entry 326
The Program is largely on target. No. i, my finest Replica, has proven an even greater success than anticipated. I intend to take the other vessel - judged unfit for number status - to Castle Oblivion, where I will subject it to further testing. One thing is clear: could these Replicas not be classified as a special sort of Nobody?
Zexion set the paper down, filing the most recent article back into its appropriate place in the folder. He looked over the previous entries very briefly before he picked the folder up and walked over to the desk in the corner of the room. He pulled open the previously locked drawer and slid the folder carefully into its previous position, closing the drawer shut. He pulled a small key from his pocket, and he silently locked the drawer before he walked away from the desk, out of the room.
Vexen did not know that Zexion had access to his files, and he planned on keeping it that way. Normally, Vexen was prone to explaining the specifics of his experiments to anyone he regarded as at least somewhat intelligent, which was more often than not him, but he knew that the older man still kept a few select details to himself.
This sudden change had captured his interest. The Replica Program had not been going well since its creation, but now it seemed to have reached a turning point.
This new Replica was much more promising. The last one, a true failure now that he looked back on it, was nowhere near the level that this one had achieved. Whenever he saw it in the halls he took careful note of its appearance, scanning as much of it as he could. He couldn't gather all that much information without making contact with it, the others would certainly notice if he were to go out of his way to make contact with it, but he observed it as much as he could.
This one was different.
No. i was still in its developing stages, but it appeared to already be taking on an identity. He had seen it moving around, almost lifeless in the way that it staggered about during the first few days after it was presented, resembling a dying animal more than a Nobody. Now, however, it was starting to show signs of intellect.
Contact with the Keybearer was kept to a minimum, but every time that the Replica came into contact with its original source, its progressing rate grew. After No. XIII made several attempts at conversing with the Replica, it began to act in a more humanly manner. It no longer staggered when it walked, and it only occasionally wondered around aimlessly. The bouts of moments where it simply stood in place unless it was directed to do otherwise were beginning to die down, and it was starting to lose its need of prompting in order to speak. The vessel was beginning to develop purpose.
He suspected that most of the face had formed at that point, but the Replica had never lifted its hood high enough for him to see. A few others had seen its face, but according to Lexaeus, its facial features appeared differently to everyone that observed it, along with its voice.
Fascinating.
Zexion strode through the blank hall, far past the library from which he had emerged. He pondered what influenced the appearance of the Replica's face. He had to wonder what factors exactly came into play in order to determine the image that an individual would be presented with. If it appeared differently to everyone that looked at it, then the reason quite possibly resided within the individual. If it appeared differently only to a select few, which was possible, then the reason more likely resided within the Replica. It could be a combination of both, or something else entirely, but at this point in time it was simply speculation.
Unfortunately, he could no longer continue on with his study. He would be sent out on a long term mission to Castle Oblivion shortly, and he would no longer be able to continue his secret observations. This presented him with a problem. He still did not have enough information on the status of the Replica to use it to his advantage, but at Castle Oblivion he would have no way of tracking its development.
The best he could do was have one of the lesser Nobodies secretly shadow it, but Xemnas would pick up on that. He knew that Xemnas was already suspicious of his loyalties, and his true intentions would be revealed to him if any of the other members caught wind of his actions. The Organization leader would no doubt notice any external movements he made within the Castle That Never Was. He could not risk letting his true colors show, so his observations of the Replica would have to be cut short.
There was no point left in pursuing any information that he could not gain without causing suspicion.
He made his way through the rest of the hall and stopped in front of his bedroom. He stood in front of the door, debating on whether he should raise his hand to the knob or not. He would be leaving soon, probably later that night, but that did not mean that there was a logical reason to retire quite yet. A large amount of rest would be beneficial, he knew, but there was still more that could be done before he rested.
Forgoing his original decision, Zexion moved away from the door and continued down the hall. He did not know what he would do now, which was unusual.
All of his actions were planned out. Every move he made was all a part of some plan, a plan that contributed to an even bigger plan, which contributed to his overall goal. He was a Nobody. He did not have emotions, and he did not have whims. Xigbar certainly acted on random, but that did not mean that he was capable of feeling urges. The fact that he was going to wander before he left was strange, but he paid it no heed. He did not feel, so he did not attribute this to anything other than a chance decision. It was possible that he could discover something useful anyway.
With this in mind, he swiftly decided upon where he would go. He stopped, altered his direction accordingly, and walked on.
His footsteps echoed faintly throughout the halls, the only sound in the silent castle besides his own breathing. He maneuvered through the various corridors easily, occasionally taking shortcuts that he came across. The walls around him steadily began to grey as he moved about, and windows started to appear as he exited the central passageways of the Castle. The silence continued on, only broken by the sounds that he made, until he reached his destination. Voices sounded from inside the room in front of him, and he listened to them carefully.
One of them was Demyx, softly singing some tune from some world that Zexion hadn't gone to. Another voice he could hear was the ever audible voice of Larxene as she went about yelling at someone. Judging from the sound of the pathetic whine that arose after she finished, it was Demyx. Saïx was probably in there as well, ignoring the behavior of the other members. That wasn't unusual.
What was unusual was that he could smell that it wasn't just them.
The other members generally only went into the Grey Area to be briefed on their missions and to report to Saïx on what had happened. A few came in to lounge around in between missions, a notable behavior of Demyx, but otherwise the Grey Room remained unoccupied by anyone other than Saïx, who even then usually left to spend time staring out of the windows in the Addled Impasse.
This was unusual.
He entered the room, and from the corner of his eye he noticed the recoiling form of Demyx sticking out from behind one of the couch cushions. It was pathetic. The cowardly act the Nobody put on was asinine. They all knew he could not feel fear.
Larxene was hovering over him, a dangerous expression on her face as she tore the pillow away from Demyx's grasp. He knew that the anger she was portraying was fake, they all did, but she insisted on acting this way anyhow. Anger was probably the emotion she would feel towards her fate as a Nobody if she were human. It was natural for Nobodies to act the way that they would have as humans, and a few of them focused on their act. It was a way for them to exist as if they were human; as if they were something.
They did not exist. They were nothing.
Zexion was one of the few that openly accepted that.
Upon his entrance, both of the Nobodies looked over at him. Demyx perked up from his obvious hiding spot, and quickly took advantage of Larxene's brief distraction to escape the couch, darting past him out of the door. Larxene silently watched this before she roared in fake rage, and ran out after the darker blonde. Even though Larxene was notorious for her speed, Demyx was the fastest member of the organization, excluding the leader. She would not catch him.
He did not look back at them as they passed. They were not important.
Instead, his gaze fell onto the figure on the chair.
The Replica sat on the closest chair, next to the couch that Demyx had previously been seated on. It sat there, unmoving. Forgoing any earlier ideas, he strode over to the Replica. It did not look up at him as he stood before it, its head directed at his feet. He made no other move as he continued to stand in front of it, looking down upon it.
A few moments ticked by.
Slowly, the Replica moved its head, and its shadowed face was directed towards him. In the dim lighting that the windows let in from the eternally dark sky of the world they resided in, he could make out the faint outline of the Replica's chin. He still did absolutely nothing as he stood in front of it, looking down on it, waiting.
Interestingly enough, the Replica fidgeted. He instantly noted this, recognizing this as an unprompted behavior. This was proof that it was developing its own behaviorisms. The fidgeting was only decently subtle, childlike, and it continued on merely sporadically.
He suspected that the Replica did not want its actions to be easily noticed, which was good, as showing discomfort could be a disadvantageous action and it showed that it could act as if it had emotions on its own accord. He doubted that the Replica could actually feel discomfort, however, but he acknowledged it as a possibility. The details of a fully developed Replica were still unknown and ideas were still experimental.
He continued standing in front of the Replica, completely unbothered by its apparent discomfort. He did not have emotions. He could not feel anything in this situation. He simply continued to stand, observing.
Its hands were trembling.
If the Replica had emotions, then he assumed it was likely that he was intimidating it. This showed that it could possibly have a sense of self-preservation. This was important if it were to be sent on missions to fight. If it did not possess the need to protect itself, then it would be destroyed. There was too much that currently needed to be studied about it for that to be allowed to happen.
The Replica subtly clenched its gloved hands, settling them onto its lap. It hummed uncertainly, lowering its head.
He instantly recognized the voice it produced as feminine, and he looked at it in sharper contemplation. According to previous reports he had read, its gender alternated depending on who viewed it. Gender had not gone into consideration when Vexen was creating it, and what gender it had really formed as was unknown. He apparently saw it as a female. He had not been able to tell before, because while the Replica appeared to be somewhat pubescent to him, gender-specific traits had not been very evident.
"I am No. VI, Zexion." He said.
It looked back up at him quickly, as if surprised. It had probably not known who he was, but that did not really matter. Its reaction was what mattered.
"Tell me your name." He said simply.
He knew its name, but that did not matter.
It continued to look back up at him, twiddling its fingers, as if uncertain. It lowered its head slightly, possibly trying to hide its reactions from him. He caught the way it restrained the movements of its hands and wondered if it was preventing itself from presenting an even more nervous reaction to him. Just as he wondered that, its hands stopped shaking, and it looked back up at him, apparent uncertainty mostly gone as it suddenly removed the hood from its head.
"Xion."
He looked down at it, at its face, setting his thoughts aside. After a moment, he dipped his head.
"Xion." He said stoically, letting the sound of its name roll over his lips. "It is nice to meet you."
With that, Zexion moved away from it and started towards the door. He opened the door, stepped out into the hallway, and shut the door behind him lightly, not even bothering to look back at the Replica.
He made his way down the hallway, moving in the direction of his room. The decision he had made to wander was now complete, and he had nothing left to do besides rest. He had no doubt that he would be leaving for Castle Oblivion relatively soon, and it would require him to be in good condition. The plan to lure the Keyblade Wielder was going to be enacted soon upon arrival, and it would require his full attention.
Still, even as he focused on his plans, he couldn't get the image of the Replica's face out of his mind. No matter what he did, even as he died, Zexion couldn't get the image of the tearstained face of a little redheaded girl that Ienzo had once known out of his mind.