VIII. Echo
Because of Jack's lifestyle, it went without saying that he would be the one to approach me. There were few chances I could have done it, and of those times the infamous Joker was usually right there with him and I decided against it. Instead, I made the most use of my idle moments and continued to rack up my small fortune. I even talked to Cid, the mechanic who would be building my ship, about my intentions and to discuss payment. I had originally thought of 'borrowing' the prototype that helped our escape from Radiant Garden, and Cid made it perfectly clear by prodding me forcefully with a wrench it was out of the question.
However the named price of several thousand munny was sufficient enough for me to know where my goal was. He had undoubtedly heard what I did for a living from Aerith, earning minimum wage underneath the wing of my employer, but he didn't know about my other contact in the casino.
Jack looked up from his glass of wine. "Your mind's wandering, Liam."
I blinked twice before I let out a small laugh. "Sorry – it's not a habit of mine." We were both sat at the bar of the Silver Lynx, and although the tables were set fairly close to each other, no one sat particularly close to us. Whether it was because they knew who Jack was or because they were deterred by my bold choice in dress sense, I didn't really care.
"I'm sure it isn't, but it must have been some daydream. Is something bothering you?" he asked as he crossed one leg over the other.
Overall, I had made some real progress. It didn't take me long to make preparations to get away from the dullness of Traverse Town. Charles' life was bland, and mine was in danger of becoming the same way. If I left before that could happen, take control of my life before my environment did it for me, I was better off. Jack was the only one who kept me going.
The barstools here were more uncomfortable than the booths that lined the edge of the bar, and I felt my foot slip from the metal frame. "I was just thinking about how we first met. Why did you talk to me?"
Jack's eyebrows furrowed, trying to decide if the question was pointless or sensible. "I have absolutely no idea. Maybe it is that we ought to treasure more than the reasoning itself." He swirled his drink very slightly. "Coincidences happen to the most fortunate, but sometimes those coincidences may not be a good sign."
I snorted. That was the sort of mentality I despised.
"Do you disagree?" he asked curiously, and I knew he wanted to know more about my reaction. Our conversations were more of a broad discussion of our body language and opinions more than our personal lifestyle – the Silver Lynx was a place to let go of everything that happened outside. I let my eyes gloss over my surroundings, and it was then I saw him at the far end of the bar. The man in framed glasses, with greased hair and a look, as described by the staff here, as sour as pickled onions.
I knew it was Joker, but I jerked my head towards him anyway. "Who's he?"
Jack didn't even turn round. He laughed softly, rubbing his temple in mild exasperation. "I told him to be discreet. He is my bodyguard, and I know how hard it is, but try to pay him no mind. You were saying?"
It bothered me to no end, but it was the sort of thing I should have assumed. Of course Jack wasn't going to outwit a trained spy before every meeting. "It's like my father would say. One tiny random event would happen in accordance to some grand plan. Multiple random events, orchestrated by higher beings, led to shape us all. Who's to say that anything is decided for us?"
And as quickly as that, the hate for my father flared up again. I disliked how he used celestial beings to force the world to make sense. I also disliked how he would push his values to individuals and crowds alike. But most of all, I despised he kept pushing them onto me, expecting me to follow the same beliefs as he did without question. He would expect me to lead service, sing, do everything a good son would do. Perhaps that was why, as the years passed, I never felt the love he extended towards his own people.
How could anyone love a father who branded his own son with the name of an angel? How could a human, much less a young boy, be expected to be anything but glorious, perfect and righteous?
Jack laughed softly. "Your father was a clergyman? That must have been hard."
I picked at my floral shirt. "It's my main reason I wear things like this." I had no intention to herd the flock my father left behind. I had no interest in hearing the confessions of people I knew, claiming that all was forgiven under the name of some saint and washing their guilt away.
My father loved his followers and the power that came from it, and he could have made them do whatever he wanted. That was what he was like. That was why I baptised him again, to drown out the evil he so preached against.
-x-
Ever since Luxord introduced me to the poker league, I found that mingling with the others in the free hours was nothing like during missions. Whilst people like Xaldin were noticeably more heated in combat, that ferocity was hardly called for in a simple game of cards.
It was almost sophisticated the way each member tossed their cards down or shook their heads. There were a few people who never played or learnt the rules, but Luxord always made it clear that he was happy enough to ease them in if they asked by sitting out himself and playing the role of dealer.
Like in the Silver Lynx, I only really got to see past my colleagues' masks over a game and figure out their deepest motives. Xaldin was a frequent player, but he didn't win as much as he would have liked. He was competitive (further supported by his seat in the Grey Area being the only one save Xemnas higher than mine), but he also accepted loss without much fuss. He had potential; however he was hardly traitor-material.
Xigbar, being the right-hand man to Xemnas, was immediately out of the question. Any risk, regardless of his almost likeable personality, was not worth it. Zexion wasn't much better – he was young and perhaps too knowledgeable for his own good. Any association with the boy who had the Organisation's scientist under his pasty thumb would be asking for trouble.
Then there was Axel, the amicable redhead with more charm than most. I had to admit that he had a lot going for him: undeniable passion, natural talent and the habit of jumping right into what he thought was right (and often coming out on top). Unfortunately, although he didn't say it, he was also the only member from Radiant Garden who recognised me. He knew what I was like, and he quite understandably made extra effort to avoid me. Our last conversation ended with me thinking how easily I could snap his neck.
If anyone, a plausible ally was Demyx. Although he didn't play poker a lot of the time, instead watching us play and making the occasional unwarranted remarks, I knew he only acted that way to bury a darker secret. He, like me and Luxord, hadn't been born the time Radiant Garden fell. Whilst the founders had the fall of the world to fuel their descent into darkness, Demyx had somehow done something of the magnitude all by himself.
At the end of the day though, I knew I had to depend on someone, rather something, a little less volatile. Everybody in the Organisation was under Xemnas' influence – it would be just as easy for them to turn me in before I had even begun.
Zexion mumbled a few words about doing some light reading before bed, and then he got up from the sofa to go to his room. Luxord quirked his eyebrow at me, perhaps half-expecting me to make a hasty escape like I normally did. "What is it?" he asked when he realised I wasn't moving.
I crossed one leg over the other. "I was wondering about the Dusks. Does the Superior control them all?"
Luxord blinked slowly. "I guess. He gets us to whittle their numbers from time to time, but I believe they exist mainly for research purposes. They act in groups and don't have the capacity to think beyond their instincts." He grinned somewhat. "Why bring up such a notion?"
I was riding very close to the conversations of the past. I was fully aware of that; however Luxord was the only reliable contact I had in this group of otherwise dangerous men.
"Each Dusk has its own unique level of dark energy. Hardly a match to beings like us, but a fraction nonetheless. Is it possible for these lesser creatures to kill or combine to create something stronger?"
And is it possible for Xemnas to one day consume us all?
He brought one arm over the sofa in thought – a tendency he did when anticipating a long conversation. It would be best if I didn't draw out the conversation longer than necessary.
"It's certainly possible," he said calmly. "Dusk upon Dusk would create a slightly more powerful one. By consuming another, like any other predator, they absorb more power to survive until eventually, the small fry won't be enough to sustain it. To my knowledge, the Superior hasn't tried this himself so it's hard to know exactly what it entails or even if it's possible."
Luxord waved a hand absentmindedly and willed the cards on the table to disappear. "If anything, it would take an excruciatingly long time for a Dusk to become a maelstrom of avarice."
I exhaled through my nose, running his words in my head again. "You mean a free-for-all with Dusks won't necessarily create a remotely decent Nobody?"
"I mean to say that it would be undesirable. Much like anything, it's prudent for the starting point to be something you're likely to place a good bet on. By throwing Dusks into the arena with no set victor, there is also no set outcome to be expected. How can the weak amount into something they have no understanding of?" He laughed softly as he started to play with his earring. I didn't recall seeing it the first time, but I noticed (for better or worse, I honestly didn't know) that he had taken pride in the one in his left ear of the Nobody's mark. "I don't think I'm making sense."
Much like how Jack was, Luxord tended to ramble. In this particular case, I didn't let it faze me. "Are there any Nobodies that are worth…betting on?"
The last part came out reluctantly, and Luxord made no effort to hide his amusement. "Except us? I recall Vexen explaining something similar to Xaldin some time ago. The way we came to be, we managed to pull out of the darkness and keep hold of our soul, which is why we were able to maintain most of our physical form. Those who are a little less fortunate become Nobodies also; however, they aren't as powerful to retain their old selves. In essence, the human host would have had to go through the same ordeal we did."
Before I knew it, I was on my feet. I knew of one who fit the criteria perfectly.
