"Just how far have we fallen when, in a world of fractured realities, insanity is the only option?" - Supernatural. Dark Themes. Sick humour. Citrusy goodness. Zombie!fic.

Wow, my first fanfic. It's taken me long enough. To mark the occasion, I have decided to incorporate two of my favourite works of fiction! That being Kingdom Hearts and Zombieland. However, there will be very little in this fic that will link it with Zombieland, I'm just stealing some of the humour I appreciated from the film. As for Kingdom Hearts, not every character will be included - some of who might be a little OOC, but so would you be if the world was taken over by zombies.

Well, depending on whether or not you share my sense of humour, you may find this fic funny or completely sick and not worthy of your time. Either way, thanks for reading and I hope you review at the end.

Disclaimer: I do not and will never own Kingdom Hearts or Zombieland. I am not that fortunate.

Vehicles crashed into a series of multi-car pileups, windows and doors smashed in - not all from the outside - unattended fires destroying the surrounding buildings, dead bodies littered around with their stomachs turned inside out…

Yep, just another day in Zombieland.

That's what I call it anyway. It's hard to tell one town from another anymore, especially when you're always passing through, heading for God-knows-where in who-knows-what state. Some road signs still exist, only far outside of any kind of town, though, but I can't say I pay much attention to them.

To be honest, I've greatly come round to the philosophy of 'Who gives a fuck?'.

Elaboration: There's nobody left to care about, there's nowhere left to go to, so why continue caring about anything but your own survival? I haven't a clue what state I'm passing through right now. The last time I knew, the last time I cared, was five months ago; I was heading east to find my sister. She lived with her fiancé on the other side of the country - had done for a fair few years before the rise of Zombieland - but she was dead by the time I got there, had been for a while by the look of her. She was shut in the bedroom when I walked in; nearly tore my throat open with her teeth before I smashed her head in with a bookend. Incidentally, she was the one who ate her fiancé. By the time I was three weeks away from my sister's place, I could think back and find it funny - I always thought he'd be the one to kill her for all the incessant nagging.

Go figure, right?

…You don't find it funny?

Oh, well.

Right now, the most I can say about where I am would include only vague details; everything looks pretty much the same, but the gas stations out on the highways are about the most normal places in Zombieland - I can almost believe 99% of the world's population aren't crazed animals with a seriously bad case of the munchies. The bigger towns were hit the worst, almost as though the infection was a hurricane rather than an insanity inducing virus. My hometown was gone by the time I travelled two hundred miles to reach it, my family and friends - what little I had of either - gone with it.

It's been eight months now since the infection spread - or at least since my first experience of it. (My neighbour broke in through the backdoor; bastard caught me in the shower - with soap in my eyes, if you can believe it). You could say I'm getting over it, but there's a secret to my swift mental recovery:

In a world without sanity, insanity is the only option.

"Ha-ha! BURN, BABY!"

That's Axel. I'm heading towards the car, thinking of the last can of coke in the back seat, when he suddenly shouts out. When I turn around, he's throwing a bottle of alcohol, equipped with a dirty sheet soaked in lighter fluid, at the lonely remains of an overturned truck. The black backdrop of the night sky immediately explodes into a crazy display of red and orange flames, and the sight is exhausting rather than fearful. The force punches through the air towards us, viciously tousling Axel's hair and clothes as he addresses his handiwork with outstretched arms and a cry of pure exhilaration.

I, however, am not so thrilled by the sight.

That's the third time this week that he's set fire to a car or building.

"Axel!" I scream. "What the fuck!"

He turns at the sound of my voice, though there's nothing but sheer excitement and adrenaline fuelling his expression. I wonder, not for the first time, whether this spout of pyromania really is just a short-term thing. It only started a few months back, but he's showing no signs that he's stopping any time soon.

Clearly.

"What a fantastic idea," I shout, gesticulating angrily. "Advertising our whereabouts to every zombie within a two mile radius!"

I'm fuming. Axel, however, is grinning.

"I feel inclined to point out," he says loudly, over the deep roar of the fire, "that you're shouting won't help the situation, either."

I want to respond - I want to scream in his grinning face and ring his neck so hard it snaps - but it's at that precise moment that an inhuman scream cries out over the noise of the fire. Both mine and Axel's heads turn in unison to the delightful greeting of five blood-splattered faces snarling in our direction, some of which were already sprinting forward with all the grace of charging elephants. I hadn't noticed them before, but it's nothing unusual - they have a tendency to materialise at the most inconvenient of moments.

It's a shining example of an 'I-told-you-so' moment, but all I have time for is a rushed exclamation of how much of a psychotic ass Axel is as we run back to the car - Axel, for once, opts to climb into the passenger seat.

I've collapsed into the drivers seat and started the engine by the time the first zombie slams into the back of the car, snarling and smashing it's fists against the window with swift, frenzied movements. Axel laughs and swivels round in his seat, a scene which holds great resemblance to a child turning to watch the passing scenery.

"Back seat's clear," he announces - the fourth of our many rules: Check Back Seat - those bastards can get anywhere.

"Roger that," I say, smirking as I push the car into gear and tear away from the gas station, leaving the zombie's behind in a cloud of fumes from the exhaust pipe. They make an attempt at pursuing us, but they're already falling behind at a rapid speed. In a matter of seconds they're nothing but tiny spots, dotting the silky black ribbon of the open road.

After another few hundred yards, I raise my hand and smack Axel around the head.

He snaps forward, cradling the back of his head in his hands. "Why!" He demands instantly.

"Why?" I echo. "Oh my god, you're about as dense as a cloud."

"That was uncalled for."

"Shut up!"

"Hey, that's just plain rude-"

"Axel!" I'm glaring so hard at the road that I swear I could open a gaping hole straight to hell. "I swear to God, if you set fire to anything else - man, vehicle, building or billboard - I'll…I won't take you to find any ice cream."

Axel props a foot up on the dashboard and laughs. "Oh, Roxas, spare me the agony."

I jab a finger in his direction, tightening my grip on the steering wheel with my other hand. "I'm serious," I say. "You're gonna get us either blown up or eaten, and I'm sick of running away like a little bitch every time you decide to go lighter-happy on a FedEx truck."

Axel rolls his eyes. "You don't have to run away."

"What would you suggest then?" I force out through gritted teeth.

Axel jerks his thumb in the direction of the backseat, where several potentially harmful objects - rifles, baseball bats, machetes - are laid out beneath a dirty sheet. "Guns are very useful in those situations - Rule number nine, right?"

Yeah, Rule number nine: Never go outside without a weapon.

I relax my hands on the steering wheel and shake my head, giving up. "Whatever. I prefer rule number one."

Ah, rule number one: Cardio

You'll never believe the speed of a half-rotted former accountant with one foot and two thirds of a stomach - Work on the stomach crunch, or you're gonna be someone's lunch.

When the infection broke out, the first ones to go were, obviously, the fatty's - they were like a happy meal on legs to the zombies. When all of this started, I can't express how often I found myself sprinting through the street while two hundred and fifty pounds of rabid zombie stumbled along behind me. Trust me, though: when they no longer have the trouble of a weak heart slowing them down, they sure can run.

Axel coughs derisively, the sort of noise you'd make if you were trying not to laugh. I cast a brief glance in his direction, already irritated and dreading what's running through his mind. "What?" I ask, tiredly.

Axel smirks and waves a hand, either dismissing my question or wordlessly saying that what ever he was thinking doesn't matter. Either way, he doesn't elaborate; not for a little while longer anyway.

We've been driving in silence for nearly half an hour when Axel turns to me, grinning like he's thought of the best car game imaginable - and yes, that would be an accomplishment in Axel's world. "Roxas?"

My eyes don't stray from the road as I ask, "what?"

Axel shifts in his seat and directs his grin towards the road. "I have to pee."

I'm silent for a moment, sparing him a few brief glances as I try to decide whether he's serious, or just making another joke that only he could find funny. "You have to pee?" I repeat.

Axel nods.

"Right now?"

"No, I just have a sixth sense about the functions of my bladder."

"We're in the middle of nowhere!" I exclaim, unknowingly pushing my foot down harder on the accelerator. Axel's grin widens. "And I'm not gonna stand and wait while you piss into the wind. No way - you can wait until we reach the next town."

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

"Can't believe this…"

I can vaguely see the outline of Axel's silhouette as he stands at the edge of the road, taking the longest whizz the world will ever bear witness to. He's whistling softly, swaying from side to side slightly like a plant bending in the breeze. He's sickeningly at ease, as per usual, and some distant part of me envies him for it. Nothing seems to faze him. The day the world turned into some warped acid trip of a Tim Burton universe, he took a matter of minutes to kick into survival mode. He fought our way out of our college dorm with a broken chair leg and baseball bat, and I have to be grateful for that - he's saved my life as many times as he's endangered it. But I can't help but hate him. He laughed when he bashed in a teenage boy's skull, and he swerves off the road sometimes just to knock down a zombie at the roadside. I can't get on board with his attitude towards the end of the world. If not for him, I'd be safely holed up inside a rundown farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.

But I don't want to be alone - that scares me more than the zombies.

I've moved into the passenger seat, feet propped up on the dashboard so I have my knees to lean on. I stare down at the rough, dirt-caked tips of my trainers and think about the birthday when my brother bought them for me.

"Where's your head at, Roxas?" Axel asks.

I look up as Axel slides into the drivers seat. He links his fingers together and stretches his arms up as he yawns - a comforting sight when he's planning to drive us to the next town.

"Maybe I should drive," I suggest, but he's already turning the key in the ignition.

"You didn't even pass drivers ed," he says.

I smirk at my shoes as Axel pushes his foot down on the accelerator, making the most of the empty country road. "Maybe I'll try again in a few years."

Axel laughs. "I'm sure we can arrange something."

I don't laugh back. I can't manage it.

Watching the passing scenery, I sigh.

Welcome to the end of the world.

OK, I'm aware very little happened. But I didn't want to open with an extreme degree of BOOM, FIRE, ZOMBIES...ah...That would shattered the illusion that this fic is going to be much more than that =)

Anyway, please leave me some feedback. Criticism is welcome, just don't pointlessly insult me. It's mean.