The Joker and the Thief
A fighter pilot and an alien find love in the middle of a war between their two peoples. Zemyx, AkuDemy, XemZex. Spiritual successor to "Tainted But Beautiful."
Rating: M
Warnings: AU (sci fi space opera setting), violence, yaoi, language, explicit scenes, noncon, light S&M, discipline, semi-mpreg (it makes sense in story), seme!Demyx and uke!Zexion, badly written space battles, possibly inaccurate military procedures, character death, melodrama
Yay, thanks for all the reviews! Please keep them coming; seriously, the knowledge that people are following, and enjoying, a story always encourages me to update faster (even though I have a bazillion papers to write...).
Man, I'm surprised by how many of you dislike sci fi. It's easily my favorite genre. Yeah, the hard stuff scares me, but so does high fantasy (I could never make it through LOTR, whereas Isaac Asimov is my favorite author), and anyway I prefer character-centered, dramatic sci fi. Like Star Trek, or better yet, Battlestar Galactica. You all should watch BSG. It was (ignoring the dreck masquerading as a series finale) the absolute best show on television, I'm not even exaggerating. Even more mindscrewy than Kingdom Hearts, and that's an accomplishment. Plus it has awesome music, too.
Oh, Final Fantasy characters show up here, so insert my usual disclaimer about not being able to write them properly. And not caring.
Log II: Said the Joker to the Thief
"It's been four days," security chief Major Squall Leonhart said pointedly.
"Yer point?" Captain Xigbar grumbled.
"The prisoner hasn't spoken." Leonhart pretended to ignore Xigbar, instead addressing Colonel Ansem sitting at the head of the meeting room table. "Not a single word. We come in and bring him food and ask him questions. He won't speak, and he also won't touch his food."
"For four days?" Ansem said, blinking in alarm. "That cannot possibly be right. How is he still alive?"
"I don't know," said the starbase doctor, Major Aerith Gainsborough. "It must have something to do with vamp physiology. I've been collecting samples from him - when he's stunned - but so far the lab's results are all inconclusive."
"Marvelous." Ansem steepled his fingers. "It seems that our prisoner is quite unwilling to talk."
"This can't continue," Leonhart said. "The whole point of capturing one of them alive was to obtain more information."
"Yes, I am fully aware of that," Ansem said. "My supervisors have been getting more than a little impatient. Understandably, they want results. Some have begun making noises about sending one of their own to interrogate the prisoner."
"Shit on that!" yelled Xigbar, banging his fists on the table; the other, much less crude, officers winced. "Our business is nobody else's business, ya got that?"
"You're preaching to the choir," Leonhart said dryly.
"I have been able to hold them off for now," Ansem continued, "but I can only guarantee perhaps two weeks at most. And believe me, I can understand the superiors' feelings. We are sitting atop a golden opportunity, ladies and gentlemen. To not seize it would be wrong."
"Not as easy as that, old man," grumbled Xigbar.
"The prisoner is determined not to talk," Leonhart said. "Like all vamps. Over the past four days, he's made seven attempts on his life. Each time we stopped him by stunning him, but..."
"But," Gainsborough said, "I don't think we can continue doing it. Who knows how our stunners are affecting him? If anything, it seems to be making him more obstinate."
Ansem had to fight the urge to bury his face in his hands. He was the commanding officer of the starbase...he had to set an example for his people. He believed that inspiring his people was one of the chief duties of a commander. "How often are you interrogating him?" he asked.
Leonhart said, "We have a different man come in twice a day. The sessions are all recorded, of course."
"And who is allowed access to him?" Ansem said. "Hopefully not the entire starbase..."
"Of course not. Only security teams - hand-picked by me - are allowed around-the-clock access to the prisoner. Other soldiers are only allowed in at designated hours, and never more than four a day."
"Do you think even that might be unduly stressing the prisoner?" Ansem said.
"Who gives a shit!" said Xigbar. "If ya ask me, the prisoner needs more stressin'!"
"Oh, don't cry about it," Dr. Gainsborough said. "No point in getting revenge, you're already completely healed."
"As if! A man's still got to pay back blood with blood, whether it's healed doesn't mean a thing!" Xigbar declared, pumping a fist. Dr. Gainsborough sighed and pressed her palm into her forehead.
"And of course, I don't doubt that you're keeping records of who visits him," Ansem said, addressing Leonhart.
Leonhart nodded. "Most just visit once - I guess that's enough to satisfy their curiosity. Except..."
"Except?" Ansem leaned forward.
"Well, sir..." Leon furrowed his brow slightly. "This one Second Lieutenant Demyx, a Valkyrie pilot in Hollow Squadron. He's been visiting the prisoner every day."
The prisoner, as always, ignored Demyx. He curled up on the edge of the bench, resting his disinterested gaze upon the walls while he wrapped his arms around his knees. He looked rather stoned, Demyx had to admit, though that was probably because he hadn't eaten for four days. His latest tray sat on the far side of the cell, as close to the force shield as possible, its contents untouched.
"Hey, hey, what'd I tell you last time?" Demyx said, putting his hands on his hips. "I told you to eat, okay? You gotta eat a lot, stay healthy and strong. That kind of thing."
He felt like an idiot trying to converse with a wall. During his previous four visits, he'd done nothing but talk to the prisoner since the prisoner wasn't talking back. He'd probably babbled more than he should have, but dammit, hearing his own voice was better than drowning in awkward silence.
"What's wrong with the food? Look, we even included some blood. Yeah. From our precious supply, so you should be grateful for that."
For the first time, the vamp reacted to Demyx's words. He turned away and snorted a little. Demyx frowned and blinked.
"Hey, what's so funny? Hey hey, don't turn into a stiff again!"
Much to his surprise, the vamp spoke. His voice was hoarse, weak, completely unlike the low snarl it had been four days ago. "Why...do you keep coming?"
"Hmm?" Demyx blinked some more. He hadn't expected the vamp to actually start speaking to him, and he found himself at a disconcerting loss for words. "Well, why not? Haven't really...got much else to do, you know."
"You are a soldier. You should always have something to do."
"Well, that's just not true!" Demyx said, encouraged that he was finally having a conversation with the vamp. "You see, I work alpha shift. Now it's beta shift, so I got nothing to do! Axel and his buddies are playing games in the arcade, but I already lost - I always lose in the first round, pity - so I guess I'll just, y'know, hang out with you."
Put that way, it really did sound stupid. He couldn't place his reasons for visiting the vamp into words, though. He just...after he inevitably lost in the fighter pilots' daily arcade tournament, his feet carried him down corridors and past turns until he found himself in the brig, standing in front of the prisoner's cell. Why? Was it because he liked the vamp's eyes - those eyes that never looked at him anyway? Or did he just find the vamp's presence intriguing?
Maybe he found it easier to talk to this vamp because he hadn't lost any family in the war. So his intrigue could be purely academic, nothing personal. But a purely academic interest wouldn't keep bringing him to the same place day after day, especially when he'd gotten no results...
Maybe it was because he wanted something to distract him from his shittiness as a fighter pilot, arcade player, drinker, and card sharp - all things that Axel valued.
Demyx sat down cross-legged. The grooved metal floor wasn't comfortable - it dug lines into his buttocks that he could see when he looked in the mirror before showering - but he saw no point in standing if he was going to stay here a while. The guards prowling the perimeter of the brig threw him bored glances when he moved, but then resumed their steady pacing.
"I'm glad you're talking," he said. "So why not eat that food? Or drink that blood?"
The vamp looked away; his curtain of slate hair covered one of his eyes, hiding it from Demyx's scrutiny. "You..believe that we...what is it...consume your blood? For...nourishment?"
"Huh? Why wouldn't you?" Demyx demanded. He knew what vamp kills looked like - he'd seen them himself. Dessicated, dry husks that dissolved into dust when one touched them. Autopsies confirmed that the deceased had been drained of all their blood. Hence the name 'vamps.'
"Stupid." The vamp shook his head. "It is not...we would not eat the enemy, that would be...desecration. Yes?"
"Sucking away all their blood, you don't call that desecration?" Demyx said, annoyed.
"It is not." The vamp glanced down at his cuffed hands. "How else would we have...what do you call it...evidence? No, proof. Proof of our kills. To take another's life force is to...master them? No, that is not what I mean."
He mumbled a long string of something in his own language; the hairs on the back of Demyx's neck rose. He didn't know what he was afraid of, but he had the unpleasant feeling that the vamp was plotting subterfuge and he had no way of knowing it. Or, more rationally, he felt that the alien was insulting him.
"Your language is...limited. I cannot express what I truly mean. There are no...layers...as there are for us. It is a sign of your stupidity."
"Hey, watch it, buddy!" Now that was an insult. "You're only having trouble 'cause you don't know the language, that's all."
The vamp smirked. "That one, he always told me I spoke it well..."
"Who?" Demyx leaned forward, interested.
"Nothing. Leave me."
Demyx sighed. "Hey, is that why you're not talking more?"
"Is what."
"You're not confident enough about your command of the language. Maybe you're afraid you'll let something slip? Or we won't understand just how much you hate us all, whatever. So that's why you don't speak."
"Zakto. Nonsense."
"You know..." Demyx frowned, turning the idea over and over again in his head. No, it was stupid; Axel would definitely not like it. But what the hell, he didn't need Axel's approval! Anyway, he wanted to, wasn't that enough? Even though he still didn't understand why. Did he have to? Sometimes people could do things without knowing why, so long as they felt right.
The vamp had fallen silent again, and was staring at the wall with an expression of half-interest. He clearly didn't think that Demyx had anything more to say.
"You know," Demyx said again, louder. The vamp didn't move, but Demyx had the feeling that he was listening. Encouraged, he continued. "I could teach you, if you want. I mean, you already can speak it okay, but I could teach you more. Difficult words and the like, so you can express yourself better. How's that sound?"
The vamp closed his eyes. "Idiotic."
"Aww, hey, come on," Demyx said, spreading his hands.
"That word." The vamp cracked open one eye - once again, for an exhilarating second, Demyx was lost in its endless depths. "You use it often. Its meaning."
Demyx grinned and folded his arms, even puffed his chest out a little bit. Not too far, he didn't want to act like Axel. "Guess you'll have to wait until the first lesson to find out, huh?"
If the vamp was irritated, he didn't let it on. His gaze was as stoic as ever. "I did not give my agreement."
"Too bad," Demyx said with a laugh, skipping backwards. He didn't know why he felt so giddy - maybe because this was something that he actually could do? Although other people could probably do it better. Not Axel, though, with that atrocious Border accent of his. "I've already decided!"
"Lieutenant," one of the guards said, suddenly standing stiffly at attention, "Major Leonhart is arriving. Wrap it up and get out of here."
"Oh..." Demyx said. He glanced from the guard to the vamp, who hadn't moved. Of course, he shouldn't have forgotten that he wasn't the only one allowed access to the vamp. Hell, he was probably one of the least important. Major Leonhart and his men had a task to accomplish, while Demyx just wanted to try out some silly game.
"Okay, I guess I'll be going," he said to the vamp, who once again was studiously ignoring him. "See you tomorrow."
The door hissed open and Demyx stepped out - only to almost bump into Major Leonhart. With a shout he reeled backwards.
"S-sorry, sir! Sorry!" He shot to attention and saluted. Leonhart returned the salute, looking - damn him! - a little amused.
"Guess I'll be going, sir," Demyx babbled, ducking past Leonhart. He didn't know why, but the security chief always made him nervous. Maybe it was that scar.
"Wait," Leonhart said. Demyx froze in his tracks.
Oh, shit! Did I do something wrong? If he's talking about the stunt the squadron pulled last week, well, that was frickin' last week! And I barely had anything to do with it...
"Lieutenant Demyx, right?" Leonhart said. He hadn't yet faced Demyx, not that that was much of a consolation. "You've been making pretty good progress with the prisoner."
"What?" Demyx squeaked. Was he imagining things, or had Major Leonhart...praised him? That couldn't be right. "N-no, I mean - "
"Don't sell yourself short. You got him to talk, more than what anyone else has done. And you've come up with a brilliant idea to continue getting him to talk."
"Huh?" Demyx had no idea what Leonhart was talking about, until he remembered his idiotic language lessons idea. "Well, that..."
"He seems to like you. Continue to get on his good side, and who knows? You might get somewhere."
"Ahh...I think...you're giving me too much credit, sir," Demyx said, blushing furiously and staring at his shoes. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had paid him a compliment...let alone told him he was going to go somewhere. Maybe his mother when he had been twelve. Much to his shame, he had no idea how to react.
"No, lull him into a false sense of security, and only then will the prisoner trust you enough to talk. Unfortunately, he'll sense shenanigans from us if we do that - we've firmly established ourselves as the bad cops - but you, you don't have a negative history with him. Play the good cop, Lieutenant."
"I don't think I can..."
"Of course you can," Leonhart said lazily; he was already beginning to step inside the brig. "I already get the feeling you're smarter than the typical flyboy. And besides - this isn't a request. It's an order. From the Colonel himself."
"Whaaat?" Demyx yelled. He whirled around, but Leonhart had already vanished inside the brig. Demyx stared futilely at the shut door, his face burning, wondering how he'd gotten into this situation. He couldn't lie and say he liked it, but at the same time...well, he couldn't say he hated it either, could he? He could only hope he didn't botch things that badly.
"So," Demyx said, clapping his hands together. "I figure we should start with names, hmm? Whadda ya think? I mean, it'll get tiresome to call you 'vamp' all the time, yeah?"
The vamp had adopted his usual position tucked in the corner of the bench. He was really quite small, Demyx thought. Well, small for a boy, but tall for a girl. It was still a little hard to tell what sex he was supposed to be; his features were delicate and perfectly androgynous, and his body wasn't visible through the baggy surplus jumpsuit he'd been dressed in. Looking at him, he could really go either way. If it wasn't for his voice, in fact, Demyx might be more inclined to think him a girl.
"Vamp. That is your name for us."
"Yeah," Demyx said, sinking to the floor. He noticed that the tray - pushed against the force shield, like always - no longer carried a cup of heated blood. Seeing that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Of course he knew the brig was equipped with hidden mics and cameras, to say nothing of the constantly prowling guards, but it still unnerved him to think that his every babbled 'conversation' with the vamp had been recorded for Colonel Ansem's viewing.
"Its meaning."
"Well, I dunno, it's short for something, but..." Demyx rubbed the back of his head. "Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself! I say we start with our own names first, okay?"
"That word, its meaning." The vamp blinked. Demyx felt encouraged - the vamp was finally showing some interest!
"Um, hmm...I dunno...'okay' just means 'okay.' 'All right,' I guess. Or like, when you add 'yes' to the end of a sentence to make a question."
No response. Demyx plunged forward. "So anyway, I'm Second Lieutenant Demyx, from Aersu. Callsign Nocturne. But you can just call me Demyx. And you?"
The vamp looked away, instead staring at the wall like he wanted to burn it down with the force of his gaze. Demyx frowned.
"Hellooo? I asked you a question."
"I am not like you. That part of me, I will not give away freely."
"Okay, okay, but I really want to call you something besides just 'you' or 'vamp," Demyx protested.
The vamp did not speak. Demyx realized that he wouldn't get any more from him on the subject...he could only hope that after the lesson, the vamp would trust him enough to divulge it. This was not a very auspicious start, if Demyx was having so much trouble getting a simple name out of the guy.
"You do not have to call me anything," the vamp said at length.
"Okay." Demyx slumped his shoulders. "Say, why don't you eat your food, Mr. Vamp?" Yeah, that was how he'd do it. Pelt the vamp with stupid nicknames until he became annoyed enough to reveal his own name. Demyx doubted it would work as planned, though. Not when the vamp was just so damned stoic. "There's no blood in it this time."
The vamp cast a bored stare at the tray. As he moved, Demyx noted how the tendons of his neck stood out beneath his skin, and how he could see every smooth line of the vamp's cheekbones. He didn't show any overtly adverse effects from not eating for four days - he was as lucid as ever - but it was clearly affecting him.
"I do not know what these...items...are. You could be trying to...varei khai...intoxicate? No...foul...me..."
"Poison, you mean?" Demyx said. "And no, I swear, we're not trying to poison you. That's the same stuff that I eat every day!"
"What is it." The vamp sounded weary. He looked away from the tray.
"Oh, well, I can explain that," Demyx chirped. "That's an apple. They're pretty shitty here, but y'know, that's what you get when everything you eat is freeze-dried! That's a sandwich. Egg-salad today? Only it's not really egg salad, it's some flavored yeast, tastes bad. That's, I think that's supposed to be steamed broccoli? I dunno, something green, reconstituted from a package, I bet. And that's milk, only decent thing they serve here." By the end of that speech, Demyx felt more than a little queasy. Of course spacesiders like Axel and Xigbar never questioned what was in their lunches, but Demyx longed for real food grown in soil and under rain.
He looked up and saw, with a jolt, that the vamp was staring back at him. They locked eyes, vamp and human, the blue of the ocean into the void of space. Demyx's throat constricted; once again, the vamp's gaze captivated him so much he couldn't breathe.
This time, the vamp didn't look away. He said, his voice soft and deadly, "It is of no importance whether I partake of that or not. I will not consume it."
Demyx breathed. He didn't know how. Somehow, against his stiff muscles, he had forced a gulp of much-needed air into his lungs. He blinked hard, a strange, almost nauseous, feeling spiraling inside him. Just what had happened? Dammit, he needed to avoid eye contact with the vamp from now on...
"You can't be thinking of that," Demyx croaked. "Killing yourself? What's the point?"
"Plenty." The vamp's eyes flashed. "I will not betray my people. It is...honorable. To die in combat. Prisoners are dishonorable. I will not be dishonorable."
"That's...that's shit, man," Demyx said. "Honor? That shit will get you killed."
The vamp smiled. For the first time. It was a hideous smile, more a smirk, that tugged and pinched at the smooth skin of his face, distorting it. He looked more inhuman than ever. "So be it."
"Don't! I swear, there's a lot to live for!" Demyx yelled, surging to his feet. Why was he desperate? Why did he want this vamp to live so badly? Maybe because he didn't want his project to fail before it had even started, or...he didn't know. "Yeah, even shitty food and a shitty ventilation system and shitty friends and a shitty family!"
Was he talking to the vamp, or to himself?
"You are stupid." The vamp turned away from Demyx. "I am done. My zaikata, my honor, I will not have you stain it."
"No, come on, you can't," Demyx said weakly.
"Come back...tomorrow...if you wish. I do not entirely...loathe...talking with you. It is better than the others. If my last conversation is with you, that would not be so...bad."
"No," Demyx said.
The vamp didn't reply. Demyx straightened, looked directly at the vamp, and said again, his heart pounding, "No. You're not going to die."
No response. Demyx strode forward, recklessly approaching the force shield. He heard the guards shift and heft their blasters, and the vamp actually reacted, whipping around to face Demyx. His eyes even widened a fraction, or maybe Demyx had imagined that.
"I'll make sure you won't die," Demyx said, leaning forward until his nose almost touched the force shield; reflexively, the vamp shrunk back. "I'll stay here and stare at you until you start eating."
"Wh...what..." The vamp was at an utter loss for words. He looked livid yet confused at the same time. "Why do you care?"
Demyx looked at him long and hard, struggling to dredge up the answer himself. Excellent question. Why did he care? This was just a stranger - a vamp. It didn't matter if the guy lived or died, Demyx wouldn't be culpable.
No...it did matter.
He surprised even himself when he spoke. "Because...I don't want anybody else to die on my watch."
In a vague way, he wondered what the Colonel and his cronies on the other side of the mics made of that statement, but then decided he didn't care. He folded his arms, stuck out his chin, and stared the vamp down.
"You cannot stay forever," the vamp said.
"Oh yes I can," Demyx said. "Wanna try me? You may be stubborn, but I can be too."
The vamp said nothing, just gazed at Demyx, and folded his arms. Issuing a challenge. Well, Demyx would gladly accept it. The human sprawled on the uncomfortable floor and flashed the vamp a grin to which the vamp reacted by narrowing his eyes. Hey, at least he was trying to interact with Demyx now.
And Demyx knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would uphold his words. It wasn't as if he did much anyway; his squadron wouldn't miss him. And surely Leonhart and his bunch would construe this as him trying to obtain the vamp's trust. But why was he going this far? He knew that it wasn't because he wanted to impress Leonhart and Colonel Ansem. He honestly, sincerely did not want this vamp to die.
For exactly the reason he stated. He would never again be helpless, never again sit there and watch when he could prevent a death. Even if it was an enemy's death.
Demyx wrenched his thoughts away from that direction and decided to pass the time by watching the vamp, who was easily the most interesting thing in the room. It struck Demyx how much the vamp stood out against the starbase's dingy black metal. So pale, his hair and skin...but his eyes were darker than anything Demyx had ever seen. He was afraid to look into them, so he didn't. Instead he looked at the markings around them. They were a delicate lavender shade, the same color as bruised eyelids, and formed complicated swirls that reminded Demyx at once of flowers and waves - but it was futile looking for human elements in those alien designs. He wondered about their purpose, and whether they were a natural part of vamp physiology or inked on like tattoos or makeup.
The vamp spoke after about fifteen minutes. "Go."
"Not until you eat," Demyx shot back.
"You are making a game of me."
"I'm making sure you stay alive."
"Why does it matter."
"It's just as I said. I won't let anybody die on my watch. Vamp or no."
"It will take time, this death. It will not be on your 'watch.'" The vamp sounded almost bored.
"I don't care," Demyx said. "Fact of the matter is you're gonna die anyway. Hell, before that happens, my superiors are probably going to tie you down and force-feed you. You wouldn't want that, would you? They can be really nasty, you know."
"Your superiors." A slight frown quirked the vamp's face, but as soon as it had appeared it was gone. "That man, earlier. The scarred one."
"What about him?" Demyx said.
"He is more a soldier than you. Not soft and strange. Bears battle scars. That is honorable."
Demyx thought it took one twisted psyche for a prisoner to think of one of his captors as 'honorable,' but he supposed that was just how deep the vamps' honor fetish ran. Not that he'd know. "What about you? You've got no scars."
The vamp did not answer. He averted his gaze.
How long they remained like that, Demyx didn't know. All he knew was that it was long enough for the guards to change shifts and the steady footsteps outside to wind down. Demyx's legs cramped and he eventually stopped feeling the floor grooves poking into his rear. On occasion, he tried to engage the vamp in conversation, but his attempts usually died down after one or two exchanges. Every so often Demyx would get up and stretch and pace around the brig; he noticed that the vamp's eyes followed him whenever he did that. But he always sat back down again, a smile on his face, and waited patiently.
This was, Demyx reflected, actually a little amusing. In a weird 'am-I-dreaming-or-awake' kind of way. He began to forget that a world existed outside of the dark brig - and in a terrified flash he wondered if the prisoner was feeling the same way.
The thought crossed his mind while while he was pacing. He stopped mid-step, a chill trickling down his spine, and whirled around to face the vamp - though he didn't know what he was going to say, how to react. Did vamps even feel the same way as humans? He was worrying about nothing...
Then Demyx's eyes landed on the vamp. Or rather, on the vamp crouched above the tray, picking off snowflake-sized pieces of the sandwich with his claws. He ate slowly, almost soundlessly, his throat convulsing with every swallow. Demyx couldn't look away; he found it strangely mesmerizing.
He couldn't ever remember feeling this happy in his life. At long last, he had succeeded at something.
"Hey, hey, good for you!" Demyx said when the vamp had finished a good third of the sandwich. The vamp stiffened, alarmed, and leapt gracefully back onto the bench again.
"Stupid human," he said. "Now will you leave?"
"Aww, come on, you can finish the rest, can't you?" Demyx said.
The vamp glared at him.
'Okay, okay, I get the picture." Demyx began to back out of the room, but he couldn't take his eyes off the vamp. It struck him that the alien, all cold light and sharp angles and muted colors and deep solemnity, was beautiful. Not beautiful like an attractive human, but the same kind of beautiful as the ocean. Something too grand for a little idiot like him to understand. With that revelation came another: he liked this vamp. He liked him, and wanted to spend more time with him. Not out of obligation to Leonhart, not out of crude curiosity.
The thought made Demyx grin. "See you tomorrow."
The vamp turned away, saying without words that the conversation was over. Demyx obeyed his wishes and turned around as well, palming open the brig door. Just before he entered the corridor, he heard something, a voice which brushed over the back of his neck like a silk curtain.
"Zexion."
"What?" Demyx froze mid-step.
"My name. Zexion."
What could he say to that? Demyx stepped out, his heart pounding. The name turned over and over again in his mind. The name and the vamp's voice, softer than he'd ever heard it before.
"Zexion," he said, musingly, under his breath.
A name was a start, he supposed. The start of what, he didn't quite know, but he at once welcomed it - and feared it.
Aww, no one was able to successfully guess the chapter titling theme? Well, I guess I'll hold off the candy corn until the next chapter, because the theme becomes pretty obvious then, I think. (hint: listen to the BSG soundtrack! You won't regret it, because it's some damned beautiful music). Anyway, chapter three is called "There's Too Much Confusion":
"What's that mean?" Demyx sputtered on his Coke-and-rum. "It's a goddamned vamp!"
"Hey, hey, get your mind outta the gutter!" Axel said, waving his hands. "That's not what I meant! Just sayin', you're always spending all your time with him. What're you hoping to accomplish? Tryin' to interrogate him? Why don'cha leave that to Leon and his bunch, got it memorized?"
Demyx stared at his knees, wondering if he should tell Axel about the task Leonhart had given him. He was distracted, though, when a thud - a body hitting the floor - issued to Axel's right, and a female voice snapped, "Outta the way, ugly."
Reviews are pretty, reviews are nice, take your chances, roll the dice. And also they may encourage me to update faster, but we'll see considering how busy I am.
