Taking Orders from Nobody

(disclaimed)

When it doubt. Change your plan.

Again.

And again.

And AGAIN.

Chapter twenty five:

Sora's voice spilled into the cabin from a crack in the static, "Happy faces, Jak."

"I'm smiling!" Jak insisted angrily as he plowed into a heartless that should not have a ship. The ship snagged, skidded, nicked something Jak barely saw, but if the ear-breaking boom, the violent pitch of the ship, and the surge of heat were to be trusted, it was something with a trustworthy, consistent, flammable fuel supply. "I'm smiling."

"Not a slasher smile, Jak!"

"For a hero—" there was an uncomfortable, abrupt noise from out side. Something metal hit something solid. Jak cringed, looked around—he did not see a clear source. He went back to ridiculing, "You're really unhelpful!"

Sora's voice was flat, "Ow, dude."

All four of Stitch's arms were out, all four clawing his seat, trying to keep himself still under the six-point harness. The ship rocked. His feet clawed the seat, too, long nails ripping holes in the fake leather. Jak resolved for the fifth time that he was not going to die in the next fifteen minutes, that gave the Falcon a extra boost, enough to get it out of that tangle and into a new one.

It also gave the radio enough juice to crackle and fizz, just enough power for Jak to hear, "Just turn around. Head back towards Hollow Bastion—Disney Castle is just beyond that. That's were I am. I'll come get you in the Highwind..."

Jak looked around, trying to locate Hollow Bastion the the shooting storm of ships. His sense of pride protested, but he did like being alive, even if that meant Sora had to come get him. There was safety in numbers, he supposed. He could keep an eye on him. He was so foolish, he must be so easy to manipulate, at least, Jak could see how that was an easy conclusion to draw, and he would probably find out more things if he was closer to Sora—but he got the feeling people hid things from Sora.

He would find out more if he was not dead.

"Okay," he sighed; relief, resignation, "We'll meet up at Hollow Bastion."

He felt better for it. The ship spluttered and coughed and caught its umpteenth second wind. Jak forced the ship around, turning the ship, it was slow going, the wing dragged on empty space as the engines struggled to work with the deficit of positive energy. He gunned it when Hollow Bastion was front and center. He saw Sora's bright red ship shoot from a distant world cloaked in black mist, overshoot Hollow Bastion, and make a sharp turn and shoot towards the Falcon. When he was close enough, Jak heard a pop, felt the ship rock as a grappling hook sank into the gummi to his right. It was humiliating being towed to safety by a kid—but it was good to know that the keyblade's chosen one was capable of handling any crisis.

Disney Castle was white and blue, with a sprawling, quaint little village of red roofs surrounding it. As they made their approach, Jak saw the remains of a few race tracks, with a colorful little village tucked between them, too small to be of any real use. It was a theme park, but old, unusued. A river ran below the castle and through the town. The Highwind hauled the Falcon towards the castle, approaching the field, and following the river to the underside of the archway. The Falcon's engines were thoroughly dead and the ship obliged gravity, dropping into the water with a heavy splash and a series of violent bobs. Stitch gagged, but did not hurl. Jak unbuckled his harness and got to his feet. Chains were dropped from the opening metal doors over head as the Highwind vanished inside and docked. Sora slid down the rope and dropped onto the ship's side, peering through the glass. He looked worried. Jak opened the cockpit and climbed out.

"I'm sorry." Sora said quickly, reaching for his arms. Jak took the offer of assistance. It was a trick—Sora hugged him, instead, "I'm so sorry. I didn't think to tell you. That was irresponsible."

"I've been in tighter spots." he replied. He tried to peel him off—Sora was not going to be peeled off. He started pushing at his shoulders, "It's fine."

"It's not." Sora just stubbornly hugged him tighter. "You could have died."

"And then." Jak tried a little harder to push him off, "I would have thought of something else."

Sora let him go and grabbed hold of his arm, throwing his weight back to pull him out onto the Falcon's mangled body. It was charred in some places, torn up in others. The Gummi that made up the outside did not shatter like fiber glass or even crumple like metal. It had give to it, it could be cut, torn, and it was torn to ribbons. One of the engines was gone. A wing was missing.

"Well, this thing's totaled."

"Guess you'll just have to come with us."

Sora did not actually sound that put out about it. Jak was going to think of something else. He grabbed one of the chains. There was a heavy hook on the end. Sora took the other one and jabbed it into the gummi on the opposite side. Jak followed his lead. It plunged ten inches deep before stopping. The gummi sucked to it, creating a tight vacuum. It would not be freed with brute strength alone. The ship rocked and there was an echoing clunk from the inside of the castle as gears started to turn and the Falcon was pulled out of the water and into the hanger. Jak looked at Stitch. He had calmed down. When the Falcon was up, suspended over the river, he sprung out of his seat and scurried down the chain. He grabbed hold of it and started pulling it to an open space, moving the ship as easily as a pillow. When it was moved to the open hanger floor, and Jak and Sora had slid down from the wreckage, Stitch opened the side panel. A suffocating plume of black smoke billowed out, but Jak did not smell anything burning. The insulation on the wires was blackened, there were little clicks of static and flashes of light as the wires discharged into the cool air of the hanger. Jak reached over Stitch, rubbed his thumb against the wire. The black, scalded Gummi chipped away, in a layer to reveal perfectly fine insulation underneath, like scale on forged metal.

A squeaking voice that sounded like it came from his boots promised, "We'll make it good as new."

Behind him, Sora muttered a quick, "Darn it..."

Jak jumped and looked town. There was a chipmunk with a red nose between his steel toes, "Uhh..."

"But we can't make it run on angry faces."

Jak looked to the hatch of the access panel. There was... another chipmunk. "Oookay."

"Stitch can."

To prove his point, Stitch grabbed a handful of wires and tugged, ripping out a tangle of metal and sparks. The chipmunks gasped and quickly shouted squeaking protests. Stitch did not listen. Jak wanted to watch him work, and help if he could, considering the damage was his fault, but he felt a gentle tug on his sleeve. He looked down.

She was a mouse. In the same way Donald was a duck and Goofy was a dog, but she was a mouse, big-eyed and black. She was dressed in a stupidly opulent pink gown. Her voice was squeaking, "And... And you are...?"

"It's Jak."

"Jak?" She echoed, she raised a finger to her tiny chin. "The king... never mentions you in his letters."

Well, he was new to the game—but that played second fiddle to his reply; "The king..?" Who was the king? There was a caste—it was safe to assume there was a king. Was he a mouse? Under what circumstances did he write his letters? What did they contain? Reports from the town? Reports from other worlds? "Writes letters?"

"Yes. He always writes me letters about his adventures in the other worlds. He's always done it. He's done it for years."

"Years? Could I—"

Between Queen Minnie's huge ears, Sora held a finger to his lips and winked. Take care, was his silent warning, tread lightly and use what little charm you have.

Jak did not tread lightly. Jak did not take care. But Jak did have charms. It could be said before he had never tried to charm a mouse, and it seemed graceless to boast about his way with animals at a time like this. He smiled, tried to ignore the big eyes that absorbed every detail and the nose that twitched just a little when she breathed. "Juuust say that's so... Romantic? Miss... Ummm..."

She giggled airily, "Queen Minnie."

"So—" Jak unconsciously leaned against the gummy ship, roasting his elbow over the smoldering wires. Stitch's third arm knocked him away. He was nearly thrown by the force. "It must be just to check in, and say he's doing well? Or does he tell you what's going on?"

He wanted to hear that she had an entire catalog of letters, meticulously stored away and cross-referenced by keywords and dates—in that moment, he had forgotten the information would be inaccessible. He still clung to the idea. Queen Minnie tilted her head, her eyes glanced to Sora, but never made it there. She looked back at Jak, "He tells me everything he learns."

"Can I see them?"

"They're private." she stepped back, guarding herself with a thin, gloved arm. She shook her head, "And very personal."

"Well." Sora stretched big, "If you two are just gunna chat, Donald, Goofy and I'll go on ahead."

Before anyone, namely Donald, could protest, Sora picked him up by the waist and tucked him against his side. Donald's angry squawking was unintelligible and fearsome. Goofy followed, and tried to convince Sora to set Donald down for many compelling reasons; he was a right powerful mage, he was a decorated and battle-hardened sailor, and he was in his forties—and that is really not how you handle someone in their forties. It continued up the tall spiraling staircase until it was just a mummer, and then it was gone. The Queen watched as light from outside trickled in, giving the gears and ships and gizmos around them a little cusp of white, and the only noise was a mechanical hum, masked occasionally by Stitch's angry labor over the gummi ship. The Queen's black eyes dropped back to him, scanned him quickly, trying to decide what kind of man he was. Her eyes stopped on Merlin's macrame shackle around his wrist and the elements he had left him with, clumped together, dangling over the back of his hand. She smiled, "Would you escort me to the study?"

He had never been fond of escort missions, "Will you tell me what you know?"

"In time." she promised, and she fiddled with a rope of pearls and diamond drops at her neck, "In time."

"Yeah. I'll do it."

She nodded, gathered up her skirts, and headed to the stairs. Jak followed, hammer at the ready. The hanger door was hidden by an bush of very clingy, bright green ivy, a few flowers dotted the garden, but mostly it was grass and well-pruned bushes carved into brass musicians. It was nice. The white marble gleamed, the air was tinged with the smell of cut grass, butterflies fluttered around; for the first time and a long time, Jak thought about his own insect collection. When he was younger, when he could have hardly fathomed the idea of other worlds, he would have loved samples from Hollow Bastion, from this garden, from anywhere else he set foot.

As far as escort missions went, this one was tame. The Queen was a mouse, it was a jarring thought, and frankly a little racist, but scurrying away to hide until the danger had passed was in her very nature. The heartless were different here—there were the shadows he knew, the soldiers he did not want to know—and heartless that would explode in a minute if he did not kill them before they did. Sora had thinned out their ranks on his way through.

The Queen stayed hidden until she was called, and when push came to shove she was fully capable of sending the heartless flying with an impressive burst of light that left him physically drained and unable to use magic for a while. But he never used magic, and the light soothed every hurt and even managed to beat the dark eco in his veins back down to his bones. Jak envied her that ability. Even when it swept him off his feet and knocked him flat on his back.

He made sure to tell her.

It was a brisk walk through the garden to a red-carpeted walkway overlooking it. It wrapped almost all of the around, and Jak did not bother to check, but there must be some kind of spell between the pillars and arches. There was no glass—when it rained the carpet would be a nightmare to dry out unless there was a spell keeping rain and birds out, but letting a breeze through. On their way they passed a pair of big, pearly, fake doors. The real door was only as big as it needed to be. Beyond that, a pair of plain brown doors that opened to the study.

Jak scanned the new room as Minnie made her way to the desk. The bookshelves behind her were curved. There were two portraits of big-eared ancestors framing the door—Jak had never been in a place so devoid of computers. He had heard tell of some aesthetic movement that worked to cut out electronic screens from personal spaces, citing the past. Jak had been in the past—folks had liked electronics then, too. He heard Minnie moving the chair so she could sit comfortably. The wooden legs were loud against the polished tile. He turned around. She did not look used to doing it herself. Jak started to cross the room to push it in for her, but by the time he reached the chair, she was already tucked in, a tiny woman at a big desk. Her feet did not touch the floor.

She laced her fingers on the desk and tilted her head, waiting patiently for his first question. Her eyes followed him knowingly as he circled the desk and pulled up another chair so he could sit down opposite her. He shrugged off his pack and let it fall to the floor. It was beat up and out of place. It was in desperate need of retiring. Jak glanced back to the door. He had left distinctly dirty boot prints on the tile, probably prints on the carpet outside, too. Minnie patiently cleared her throat.

Jak's eyes snapped back to her, "Tell me about Terra."

"Terra was one of three apprentices—Aqua and Ventus were the other two. They studied under a man named Eraqus." That was the answer to his question. He opened his mouth to ask about Eraqus, she cut him off with a better, more interesting prompt. She smiled like she knew it was what he really wanted to know, "but when Ventus was younger, he studied under another master. His name was Xehanort."

It slipped out; "Fuck."

"Don't say that word." She corrected gently, "It's an ugly word."

"I'm sorry; please tell me about Xehanort. Did you ever see him? Did you know anything about him?"

"Not really—Little details, perhaps. What do you need?"

"How old was he? Did he seem particularly... Evil? To you? Why did he stop training Ven?"

"He was... Older. Fifties? Sixties, maybe? Could have been seventy, but he was older, certainly. I think... And when he was younger, no, he never seemed to be evil, he seemed to be curious and studious. It is amazing how a pretty, youthful face will distract from bad intentions, and those eyes! They were brilliant gold." her lashes fluttered and she rested her chin on her hand, "He was considered a model student. He was very interested in science and history. In his early years, he was a respected Keyblade master. When he was training Ven... It certainly seemed like he let his curiosity get the better of him."

She fell silent.

"What did he do?" Jak prompted, excited and impatient. He scooted forward in his seat.

"Let me think of a way to say it delicately."

Jak let her think. She took a breath, shook her head, and reconsidered, thinking of the best way, the most complete way, setting every fact in order so that he could be given a complete picture. Her eyes looked to the books on the curving shelves, the painting on Jak's left. When she was ready, she took a bracing breath and leaned forward, her voice somber despite its irritating squeak.

"From his early days as an apprentice to his last days as a master, Xehanort was fascinated with an event called the Keyblade War, where Keyblade wielders fought for control over Kingdom Hearts. You've heard of Kingdom Hearts?" when he nodded, she continued, "It was said, during the war, that a companion to Kingdom Hearts was forged, briefly, but this is all legend. Other legends say it was there all along, and the war was to claim it, though it was broken in the clash. Other legends say it was never forged, but that a powerful Keyblade Bearer sealed it away, deep in the realm of darkness, and that it could only be retrieved again by the true Keyblade Master—Except its not spelled key its spelled Ki and it's represented by a little X with a curly-que in the end of it. It's called the recursant sigil."

"Thank you." Jak interjected. He suspected she was talking about a completely different X and he wanted to put her back on track. "That's very helpful."

"Regardless of the legend, they all say the same thing. The X-blade was forged through the ultimate clash between light and darkness. Xehanort's fascination with the Keyblade War was simply a cover for his obsession with this true X-blade. This is where Ventus makes his... unfortunate entrance. Master Xehanort took him in under the guise of training him, but he had selected Ventus for one reason only. His heart was the perfect balance of Light and Darkness. Xehanort thought Ven would be the child to create the X-blade."

Jak did not like where this was going. He gritted his teeth, rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, straightened his back against the solid wood, and did not interrupt.

"He trained Ven, treated him just so, and fine-tuned the balance of light and darkness in his heart until it was perfect. Knowing him as we do now, it is hard to image Ven's brief time with him was particularly warm, though he was kept in good physical health. He was never beaten or harmed—but Xehanort is not a good man. I don't think he ever was. He took Ven to a world, the battle field of that ancient clash, and used his own keyblade to tear Ven's heart in two, with the aim of making him fight his own darkness and forge the X-blade."

Jak's hand clenched into a fist and his heart started to pound. Experimenting on a kid! Jak could at least distance himself from his own immediate and troubled past—there was a reason. It was a bad reason. When he repeated it to himself, it was for the greater good, the city was in danger, you fit the bill, it made him want to vomit, but considering the blind rage he always felt before, it was an improvement. But what luxury did Ven have? What could he say to justify that kind of torture, to remove it from the hard reality? Xehanort's face must be tailor-made for his boot.

It just sort of... happened; "Fuck me."

Her big eyes focused on his mouth scornfully and she waited for him to mutter a hasty apology, "The X-blade was not forged that day, but Ventus, as you can imagine, was never the same. He was just... Not there anymore."

"But it worked? A heart can be removed?" he sprung up, "Not just removed—but in pieces? This means—I could be right, Stitch!" Stitch was not there, "Queen Minnie, there is a painting in Hollow Bastion, in Ansem's study."

The queen visibly grimaced. She knew where this was going. Jak hardly noticed. "Stitch says it looked like Terra, but with pale hair and golden eyes. He said Terra's hair was dark and his eyes were blue. Another woman there said Ansem had an apprentice named Xehanort—she said Xehanort, the apprentice, was in his twenties ten years ago. I had a theory that Terra's body was stolen by the original Xehanort. Could that be true? A heart can be removed. Master Xehanort knew how to do it. It could be true!"

"Yes. Yes, it's true." Her hand raised to her heart, "Oh! Terra was such a nice young man. To think that's what became of him!"

Jak would have punched himself in the face to stop it, but it came out anyway; "Fuck me sideways."

"If you say that word one more time I'm going to have you thrown out."

Jak sat back down, "I'm sorry! What about Ven's darkness? What happened to it? Did Xehanort put it back? Did it vanish? Did he absorb it into his own body?"

"It..." she stopped, and told him urgently, "You must not share this information with Sora. We will tell him about all of this... in time—but now is not the time."

"Okay. I won't tell Sora—What happened to Ven's darkness?"

"It..." she stopped again. Jak jumped to say the forbidden word, but he cut himself off with a strange little noise and dropped back into his chair. Minnie continued, "You know about the heartless?"

"Yes."

"You know about the Nobodies?"

"Yes, yes."

"Ven's darkness... became its own person."

Jak made an over dramatic noise of frustration and delight all rolled into one. Minnie leaned back in shock and did not say another thing until he had settled back into his seat like a good boy.

"Xehanort named him Vanitas and trained him in secret as Eraqus trained Ventus. He planned to pit the two against each other once again in a second attempt to forge the X-blade. Vanitas was tied to raw emotions, and his physical body was only an illusion. His true form was a wraith that could be split and reformed, and he created monsters called Unversed."

Jak sprung up again and he started to pace. "There aren't Unversed now—and there is no ultimate Keyblade. Did Xehanort's plan fail? Did they never meet again? If the unversed were part of Vanitas... Vanitas is gone?"

"Yes. The two met, and they fought. The X-blade was almost created—but it was not meant to be. Xehanort's experiment was a failure. Ven's light and Vanitas' darkness were equally matched, but it was not the way the blade would be forged. Ventus lost his heart, and Vanitas lost his body. Xehanort survived to try again."

"Where is Ven now?"

"Aqua hid him—She took Eraqus' Keyblade, and used it to twist Land of Departure, sealing and consolidating the remaining pieces into Castle Oblivion, we thought she hid him there, Organization Thirteen searched Castle Oblivion high and low for years, they never found Ven. Maybe he was never there. Maybe his body has turned to dust long ago."

"I'm sorry—What's Organization Thirteen?"

"An Organization of Nobodies."

"Any known members?"

"Yes. Plenty. the members that would know about Castle Oblivion would be Axel, Larxene, Marluxia, Vexen, Zexion... Uh, Lexaeus... I think that is all that was there. Only Axel is alive now, I've heard he was sent back there a few times to search for various things, destroy research, clean the place, so if you're interested in Castle Oblivion, you're going to need to get in touch with him, but that's not terribly hard to do, he'll stick his nose in your business at one point or another. The other members are... Let's see, Roxas, that's Sora's Nobody, but he's... gone. Xemnas is the leader, in addition to Axel and him, the other remaining members are Saix, Luxord, Xaldin, Demyx, Xigbar... and... And I think I'm missing one..."

"No, that was thirteen. Why do they all have an X in their name?"

"It's a theme name... thing... Honestly neither the king nor I am sure. They're aliases... The ones that have been their longest were from Radient Garden—that is, Hollow Bastion—I feel like I'm missing one."

Jak hardly heard her. It hit him like a runaway hellcat. The pieces fell into place in one fell swoop. Axel and Saix. "Lea and Isa."

Queen Minnie began to look through the book shelves, muttering to herself that she must have forgotten one. Jak was lost in his own world, his boots were loud on the tile as he paced back and forth in front of the desk and Minnie looked through her books of letters, "Lea and Isa are members of Organization Thirteen... I've been so blind! I though—I though Lea was good but... Why save her if... Bait? Was the old woman bait? Bait for who...? Sora...?"

He stopped. His breath came quickly, and for a moment, it came no more. Everything fell into place. Kairi. The old woman was bait for Kairi. Xehanort was after her still—under another name. His assumed name, hidden in plain sight; Ansem. Ansem to Xemnas—they were both Xehanort under an alias. Twice was a coincidence. THIRTEEN TIMES was a compulsion. What else was he mocking them with every time they breathed his name? He pulled out the missing persons flyers from his pack and nearly destroyed the desk searching for a pen to write down on the blank space on the backs of the pages.

X-E-H-A-N-O— "Oh my!"

Jak looked up from the last page. He was two letter shorts of the full set. There were two a blank sheet of paper in Queen Minnie's hands, an open book of full, long, hand-written letters in a book on the desk. He did not know why they were blank. He did not care that they were blank. Jak lunged forward and rudely snatched them. R. T.

XEHANORT.

He stepped back, mouth dry, hands shaking. It was his pattern. Take the information he wanted hidden, scramble it up with an X. He was playing a game. Was he was so certain he was untouchable? Was he taunting everyone? Did he want to be found out?

Minnie watched him, baffled, as he slowly reached forward and pulled back the first page, rolled it in his hand. He started at the precursor characters spread out in front of him. If anyone else found this, it would stick out like a sore thumb, eight pages of strange letters. He took a moment to look at the two he had taken from Minnie's hands. Framing the R and the T were deliberate, neat letterheads and footers, a post script jotted as an after thought. There letters themselves, however, were blank as could be. That was a question for another time.

The door opened. They both jumped. It was only Stitch. He climbed onto the chair Jak had been sitting in, looked at the seven pages on the desk, then he climbed onto the desk, "What say?"

"Ehanort."

"Eh?"

Jak held up the page in his hand, "Xehanort. The X is meaningless. He takes names, and scrambles them up—it unscrambles to something."

Stitch looked back at the pages fast as lightning. His ears flicked up. The pages stared back, black ink drying slowly. EHANORT.

Stitch raised his hands, slowly, carefully, he picked up one page and moved it. Then another. And another. He stepped back. No Heart. It was that simple. The puzzle was done. Stitch knew six characters of precursor and he had solved it faster than him.

His shiny black eyes turned to him, worried, intrigued, excited all bundled into one, "Another Alias?"

Jak was red in the face. He clamped a hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet. Minnie looked at her ruined letters, then to him, and then she hissed, defeated, "Fine. Say it."

Only you, readers, have the power to keep me from writing Heartless Robot Zombie Erol.

Because if you don't?

I am totally going to write Heartless Robot Zombie Erol.