Taking Orders From Nobody:

(Disclaimed)

Okay, next week, I'll be moving this to the cross over section.

So tell your friends and stuff.

Still, really glad it's gotten some support.

Chapter three:

Daxter kept high. With his tiny claws, he climbed up the black sky scrapers, keeping off of the ground and the swarms of Heartless below. He had to avoid them, so he climbed as high as he dared. It was dark; the only sign of light came from never-flickering, always-lit neon signs. There was no starlight. There was no sign of dawn. There was something about this place that made his fur stand on end and his whiskers quiver. Maybe it was the Heartless below him; maybe it was that there were no people anywhere. Maybe it was that there was no sun.

Daxter kept high. He bounded off of one wall and onto another, and he climbed even higher. The shadows would appear on the narrow ledges, but they were easy to avoid, and to shove off the edges if he had too. He was fast enough to out run them, but he could not take the safer road down below, because they would overwhelm him and bog him down. He could slip out of a pile up, but he would risk getting caught in another one. The shadows were as tall as him, when both were standing tall, but they were much bigger.

His hands found the final ledge of a building, and he pushed himself upwards onto it, the claws on his back legs scraping against the brick. He got a good look at the sprawling, black cityscape around him. It rivaled Haven City in terms of size and construction integrity. Everything was well put together—and it reached out as far as he could see.

The cartoonish, heart-shaped moon floating above completely ruined it, though. Daxter saw it, just floating here, and despite himself, he snorted and covered his mouth, "What?" It was either waxing or waning, Daxter could not tell. It was a gibbous heart-shaped moon, not a full moon. And, no; real, genuine, moonlike characteristics like craters and phases did not make it any less ridiculous.

He stopped snickering and reminded himself that he was on a flat, open surface. The Heartless could find him here, and they would converge. He had to keep moving.

This world... It seemed to be teetering on the edge of something horrible. Daxter had ridden on Jak's shoulder, he knew what teetering on the edge of "something horrible" felt like.

He reached a point where he could no longer continue. There was a great, glowing crater in front of him, about twenty stories below ground level. He was probably about forty stories up, perhaps more, so at its lowest point—dead center—it was roughly sixty floors down, though Daxter could not truly see that—it was glowing too brightly. He did not even try to estimate what its diameter was. He was not good at estimating distances. He was still not used to being two feet tall. It really threw him off. Floating above this crater was a pale grey castle. The heart-shaped moon loomed above it, and managed to look sinister despite itself.

He looked around. The Heartless did not seem to be converging on him, but he did not want to remain here. Still, he was tired of running and climbing. He swallowed, though his mouth had gone dry and he was only shifting thin, dry sludge, which made him thirsty. He panted as he slowly walked over to the edge of the building, close to the crater.

He looked down and saw a bright patch of red-orange on the blue street below. Daxter moved closer. It was a person. He thought with a skip in his chest, at first, that it was Ashlin, but the person was too skinny, and the hair was wrong. He had simply been wishing. Perhaps it was Jak. Perhaps the light simply made his blonde hair look—

It was not Jak. If Jak was here Daxter would have seen him first thing.

Whoever this person was, the Heartless were not attacking him—and that was something to take an interest in. If he had some trick, Daxter needed it. He made his way down the wall and got closer, dropping down silently from ledge to ledge, making his way back along the street, keeping behind him and shadowing him. He was tall—very tall. Taller than Jak ever hoped to be. He nearly rivaled Sig on height.

So, here he was, tall as a redwood, thin as a willow. His hair behaved like Jak's did, flaring up, but keeping itself back. Daxter slinked up beside him, and finally spoke, "Hey."

With a jump, he turned around, did not see anyone of a reasonable height, and then looked down.

"Who are you?" Daxter asked.

"Who are you?" the stranger replied. Daxter moved back. This was not his home turf, so he obliged.

"Daxter."

"Axel." The stranger replied. He motioned for Daxter to follow him. Together, they walked away from the grey castle. Axel made the conversation, "You must be new here."

It was not that hard of a conclusion to draw, "Yeah."

"So, how are you liking it so far? I know Xemnas can be a little... intimidating, but—"

What? What the actual hell? What had Daxter said to make this guy believe he was already well ensconced in whatever black-clad freak show he was? He replayed every word in his head, all five of them, while Axel rambled on about the hierarchy and who was who and who did what, before Daxter finally could not take it anymore, "What?"

"What?" Axel replied, "We do need to get you a uniform—though I suppose it's being worked on—We don't have one your size laying around—well, actually, we did. But the mouse stole it.

"You lost me at Xemnas!"

"But you must have seen him!" Axel replied, "You were named."

"What?"

"Daxter." He said, "So, who were you before?"

Daxter tilted his head, and tried to make sense of the question. This red-head must be very perceptive if he could tell that Daxter had not always been a rodent, "Well, I was a person."

"That's weird. Somebodies don't normally turn into animals—Actually, they never have before."

That was an odd piece of dialect. Daxter understood it, though, so he ignored it, "Yeah, I fell into da—"

"But what was your name?"

He might actually be a little thick, which was a strange combination with perceptive, though Jak did have the same problem. "Daxter." he repeated.

Axel stopped. They were on the edge of the crater, and a glowing blue bridge magically appeared out of nowhere. "No, your name before. When you were somebody."

"Daxter!" he insisted, getting frustrated.

"No, that's now, what was it then? Don't tell me you've forgotten already?"

Daxter was flustered now. He straightened up, glared at him, his paws clenching into little fists and his hair bristling. His tail rose up, "My name has always been Daxter!"

Axel stopped and focused his sharp teal eyes on Daxter. His eyes narrowed, he looked confused, then he took a step away, confusion gave way to disbelief, "...You're not a Nobody?"

"Listen, hothead," Daxter crossed his arms, "You can diss self-confidence all you like. I know I ain't the hero, but I ain't a Nobody."

"You're just..." There was a long pause, and Axel looked very confused again. The wheels in his head were turning—he was not expecting this. "A talking rodent who's name just happens to have an X in it?"

Daxter considered it. He did not quite understand what Axel was getting at, "Yeah."

"Huh." The red-head huffed. He looked around, and then decided it would be best just to hoist Daxter up. Daxter crawled up his arm to his shoulder, and wove a paw through his hair, and lamented, silently, that his shoulder was even bonier and more uncomfortable than Jak's.

He looked at the castle, and turned and headed back towards it, "Do you even know what a Nobody is?"

"Nope."

"What about the Heartless?"

"I know about the Heartless, alright." Daxter replied, "I ain't ever been more scared of butter-cup yellow."

"A Nobody is what's left after a Heartless gets created. A Heartless is the heart that is lost to darkness, a Nobody is the husk that carries on."

"Then—then aren't the names wrong?" Daxter asked.

"What?"

"The names. If the Nobody's the body without the heart it should be called the Heartless. If the Heartless has the heart, shouldn't it be the Nobody?"

"You've got a point." Axel shrugged, "But that's just what we call em."

There was a lull in the conversation, and Daxter asked a burning question, "So, what's with the cartoonish heart-shaped moon?"

Axel snorted, covered his mouth and said, "That's Kingdom Hearts—or, part of it, anyway. We're making it out of hearts the Heartless take."

"What now?"

"We'll get new hearts if we make it."

"But—but aren't people losing theirs?"

"Yes."

Daxter wanted off. He jumped down and landed right in front of Axel, "Hold on just a hot minute!" he crossed his arms, "The Heartless take hearts, right? They take hearts and put them in there?!" he pointed at Kingdom Hearts, "So that you can get your heart back? Which the Heartless also took?"

"Yeah."

"How many hearts do you need? Everyone in Haven City? Wouldn't it just be easier to go look for your heart?"

Axel looked back, "There's a lot of hearts in there."

"And whose fault is that?!"

There was a long pause again. Axel frowned, looked back at Daxter, and said, "Well, my heart could be anywhere. It might not even be in there—it could be out somewhere totally random."

Daxter was not buying into his crap. It did not sit well with him, because to the best of his knowledge Jak's heart was heading to that thing and Daxter was powerless to stop it, "What happens to the hearts when you're done with them?"

Axel stopped to think for a third time. They were standing just before a really, really tall building—with a wreaked truck blocking up the alleyway to their left. Right was the only path they could take. Axel seemed to realize then, that it was raining. He put his hood up and confessed, "Dunno."

Daxter huffed, and considered slinking away, but two things happened. One, he realized that there was probably no one else around for miles—more than miles, maybe—and two, the drizzle became a sudden, cold deluge, the kind that would soak him to the bone in a matter of minutes, and he's smell like, well, like a wet ostelle for days after wards. Axel picked him up again and let him crawl in under his hood before he got too wet.

"I'm just a little upset." Daxter said, head just under his chin, "That my entire world had to go under just so you could get a new heart."

"And I'm not—" Axel's voice rumbled against Daxter's paw. "I guess that's why I need a heart."

Daxter was royally pissed by that comment, and he considered pointing out that he was about two casually dismissive sentences away from being a bigger sack of shit than Krew, who really did have Haven City's largest sack of shit award currently. Axel had just passed the second runner up, though, and that was Errol.

Axel sighed and tried to convince Daxter he was not all bad, "I know I should be."

"Doesn't help."

"I remember what being upset feels like."

"Not. Helping."

"If it were up to me, I'd return the hearts." Axel confessed, "And—and once I had one, I'd probably feel like it. I think. From what I remember of myself, that's something I'd do."

"What do you remember of yourself?"

There was another pause. Axel kept walking, and Daxter wondered for a moment if he had forgotten they were talking, until he said, "I really liked Frisbee."

"That's it?" Daxter asked, bluntly and still short tempered, "You remember you like frisbee?"

It was very anti-climactic. "Yes." Axel changed the subject, "You need a name."

"I have a name."

"I mean a fake name for your fake somebody."

"Why do I need a fake somebody?"

"Because how else are you going to blend in here?"

Axel had a point. Daxter adjusted himself in his hood around his neck. Axel did not show a sign of being tickled. Heartless, indeed. When he was settled in, he asked, "What was yours?"

"Lea, I think. You forget after a while. It's been a few years. Actually, it's been ten." He held a hand to his chin, "Daxter gives us a lot to work with. D-A-T-E-R."

"You forgot the X."

Axel removed his hand from his chin, and suddenly seemed to remember that there was a pettable head just around his neck. He gave Daxter a little scratch. Daxter swatted his hand away. He shook his gloved fingers as he jerked his hand back and returned it to his side. His arms swung very slightly when he walked, and Daxter had a hard time adjusting too it, because he was used to a much more dramatic swing from Jak. He explained, "Yes, I know. That's the point. Xemnas will scramble it back up, and he'll put the X back in so with any luck you'll just be Daxter again."

"What?"

"See, 'Lea' plus 'X' is 'Axel.' 'Isa' and 'X' is 'Saix.'" He started listing all of the possible combinations that Daxter's name sans the X would get them. He probably could have gone on for at two minutes—there were over a hundred combinations, but that was two minutes Daxter did not want to waste.

"Ardet." Daxter said, "My somebody was named Ardet."

"Okay." Axel shut up about it, "Ardet it is—was then."

They had reached the end of an alleyway, and the end of the road. Axel turned around, and walked back. While he was walking, he asked, "What do you fight with?"

"Fight?"

"Yeah—you made it through, you must have fought the Heartless off somehow, right?"

Daxter doubted sheer balls counted as a legitimate answer, and even then, he doubted it was true. "I didn't. It was just luck—but I worked as an exterminator for a couple of months. I'm pretty handy with a fly swatter."

Axel laughed. It was not real. Daxter could tell now, and it irritated him. He dug his claws into Axel's collarbone. The red-head cringed and stopped laughing immediately, "I still feel pain you know."

"Good."

"Are you still mad?" There was no hint of disbelief—it was an honest question.

"What do you think!?"

There was a pause, then, "That's okay, you can be mad—but I don't think fly swatters really... Well, we have fly swatters... But they aren't nice fly swatters."

"What does it matter?"

"Organization XII has an image to maintain."

"And you care about it despite the inability to care?"

There was that pause again.

"Really." Axel said, "You don't want it. It's a plane-jane fly swatter one of us bought from this store in this world called Ohana Islands—it's beat up and tacky and has a little hula dancer on the handle."

"Sweet!"

Axel started to fake laugh. He immediately stopped. They had just passed the tallest skyscraper again. Daxter poked his head out of the hood to take a look at the top. It was really, really high up. The rain poured down even harder now, and when he drew his head back in, his nose was drenched.

Axel had one more suggestion, "If you gave up talking, you could just be my pet."

"Never." Daxter replied, "Just ask Jak if you get a chance—I'm a terrible backseat driver. I can't keep my mouth shut. Not on your life."

"It was a thought." Axel shrugged, "Who's Jak?"

"Buddy of mine." Daxter told him, "He and I go way back—course it's his fault I'm like this. It's no wonder I'm giving orders all the time. Can't fight a monster without my help."

"So you're a talking rodent strategist?"

"Yeah." Daxter nodded, "Pretty much."

They were silent until they reached the gray castle again. Axel asked, "You ready for this?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." Daxter replied.

Axel crossed the bridge to the castle. It was entirely gray and white inside. A weird, unwelcome change. The place looked too big and very freaky, and gave the feeling of being made out of old circuit boards and exposed pipes. But, it was dry—and that change was welcome. Axel took off his hood and Daxter wasted no time jumping down and shaking off all the water he could. He followed Axel through the maze of white towards a central meeting room with thirteen chairs in a circle. They were all of various heights, but all of them were empty, except for a blond punk with a mullet, playing a flamboyant blue guitar and wearing the same clothes as Axel.

In Haven City, mullets were something of a bad joke, and the fact that even Torn and Ashelin had both had one at some point in their careers, and there were photographs to prove it was the cause of much hysterical laughter. It was the only reason Daxter knew what they were. He would have laughed, but he reminded himself that he was supposed to be a heartless Nobody.

And he supposed he had to act like somewhere out there, he had a Heartless with no body.

That was going to be impossible to keep straight.

But, he did not laugh. The teenager saw him, and asked immediately, "Getting a pet Axel?"

"Hey!" Daxter barked, "I'm a Nobody same as you!"

"Still in the habit of getting offended?" Mullet grinned.

"Yeah." Daxter faked settling down, "Hard one to break."

He laughed, "You don't really break it." Without a thought to his ankles, he dropped down from his high seat and strode towards Daxter without missing a beat, "I'm Demyx. It's good that we're getting a new member—Organization XII just doesn't feel right without thirteen."

"So, you've got twelve?"

"No." Demyx shrugged and grinned, "We have seven. I consider calling us the magnificent seven, but now we're to be eight, so I guess it's too late."

He laughed. Daxter tried to keep the frown off his face. The smiles were fake. The laughter was fake. It angered him, enough to let it show, but he knew he could not. When he heard Axel faking laughter too, he faked it himself. Faking it must be the norm. Daxter guessed it was to keep remembering what it felt like to have a heart.

And with that thought, a little sympathy struck him. Daxter had come through in one piece, heart, limbs, fur and all. He felt a little empty without Jak—he felt very empty without Jak, and he worried about everyone else. Being without a heart gave them a goal, but they had no moral compass to keep them from doing whatever it took—and Daxter supposed that was what they were doing. Whatever it took. Faking it must just be a little way to cope with it. He looked from one to the other. They both looked like they could be standing so close—but they seemed so far apart. And it was sad.

"So, what was your name?" Demyx asked, tilting his head.

"Ardet." Daxter replied flawlessly.

"Ardet." Demyx echoed, "Lot of combinations with that one—well, it's all up to Xemnas. Whatever pops into his head is what you'll get."

"Who were you?"

"Oh, um..." Demyx paused. "I've forgotten."

Daxter looked at Axel who just shrugged and said, "It happens."

Forgotten his own name. Was all Axel had to cling to a name and a love of Frisbee? Did he looked like he looked now, or was it different somehow? Daxter frowned. If this really was his life now, if he had become a Nobody, he would forget so many things. Haven City, Tess, Jak. What would he even remember? It seemed like only the memorable details. He would remember Jak in form only. No name. Maybe not even a face. Just images. Jak would be reduced to a broad shoulder and a sweaty neck. Maybe Tess would be a pair of boobs under a tightly-stretched shirt. And so would Ashelin. And Keira might be a wide backside bending to examine a zoomer, a silhouette behind a green curtain.

He really needed to re-evaluate his way of looking at women.

"Xemnas." Demyx waved big, "We gotta new one."

Xemnas looked down at him, and Daxter could feel the layers being peeled away by those fiery, frightening orange eyes. He had pale, silver hair in many layers, and it was a strange contrast to his dark skin. Daxter was pretty sure that coloring had no genetic explanation—but a riveting backstory. He could just tell. And, probably like he could just tell, it seemed that Xemnas could just tell that Daxter was not a nobody. Just how much of his life's history this Xemnas could read on him, Daxter had no clue. And, the instinct and the riveting backstory was all Daxter could pick up. Everything else was drawing a blank. Daxter didn't know if Xemnas was just sizing him up—really, that should not take this long—or weighing the pros and cons of having a team mascot.

"Tell me your name."

It came out with some difficulty this time, "A-ardet."

It was back to thinking again. What was he doing? What was he reading? Daxter hoped the worry was completely gone from his face. He mimicked a confident, upright posture, instead of standing on all fours. Looking like less of an animal could not hurt. Xemnas seemed to think long about those five letters, no flicker of emotion passed his face. No nothing. He must have been looking at the problem like a logical mathematically equation, which means Daxter—the obvious choice, really—would come early on and—"Tarxed." He said pointedly.

He was going by a logical, mathematical equation backwards. "What about Daxter?"

"I like Tarxed better." He nodded, as if he had deemed is just. His work done, he just walked out. He must know everything that went on in the castle. He probably did know Daxter was not really a Nobody.

He probably knew his real name was Daxter and he had just chosen to call him Tarxed because he wanted the entertainment.

The entertainment he could not enjoy because clearly he did not have a heart.

And that offended him.

But, at the same time, he did not put it past the leader of a cult that took hearts from people.

When he left, Axel snickered, mostly to himself, "Tarxed."

"Shut. Up."

Pronounced Tarks-ed, not tar-zed