Chapter 4: This Rhyme Skirmish

Back when Master Xehanort was alive and plotting atrocities against mankind, he was, of course, a busy man. However, during his downtime, he rather enjoyed frequenting fast food eateries. One morning, he chose a certain McDonalds housed within a certain world of wonder, whimsy, and certainly no importance.

Walking in, he was greeted by the smell of French fries, ketchup, and bubbling grease. The elder Keyblade Master was quite fond of the fearful looks the workers behind the counter would give him. So unversed. So full of twitchiness.

But on his way to the counter, he noticed her sitting there, way in the back by the window. He growled under his breath, "Ugh…Maleficent."

"Sir, um…I can take your order now." The man behind the counter must have noticed the sharp increase in tension. Or maybe Xehanort's pointy ears freaked him out.

Clearing his throat, Master Xehanort stated, "One mocha latte with a side of hash browns. Make that two sides of hash browns."

"Coming right up."

After a quick exchange of gil, Xehanort took his order number and strategically sat one booth seat away from Maleficent, opting to face her directly. He sneered at her while she sipped her diet nonsense. The ensuing threat-level eye contact may have been toxic enough to leave fallout.

Quickly, Maleficent turned her attention to a magical projection she'd summoned aloft the table; a rerun of Golden Girls.

Xehanort hated that show.

Clearing his throat again, he finally broke the ice, "Whether moving around, or holding still, Maleficent, my dear, you look like swill."

Nearly spitting out her soft drink, Maleficent responded curtly, "Oh, it's on."

Through some sort of magical trickery, the mad witch filled the entire restaurant with smoky vapors, even dimming the lights in favor of strobing flashiness.

From her McDonalds booth seat, Maleficent bellowed in a terrifying voice, "You walk in my shadow, projecting your lies! I'll snatch those pointy ears straight through your eyes!" Calmer, she said, "Don't you mess with me."

Xehanort's eyebrows intensified within the darkened, smoke-filled restaurant. "Oh, Mistress of Mockeries, both funny and sad—go back to your hen house and gad, gad, gad!"

"Weak." Maleficent dialed it up a notch, summoning flames around her booth seat. "Your technique is of folly, and your hygiene—good golly. I swear you're a freak-show all crammed in one trolley."

Time to go for broke. "You dress like a nun, but you live in pure squalor. You fight in loathe because your boy is a baller." Xehanort smirked after that one.

Maleficent rose up from her booth seat, levitating as she screeched, "I have the riches as well as good looks. You have the appeal of rusty old hooks!"

Fake-laughing, Xehanort retaliated, "I knew it as soon as I walked in the door—you shouldn't be here, like puke on the floor!"

"Insolent fool…" Then, Maleficent said, "Comb your beard, you delusional hack! And quit hunching over lest I break your back!"

Xehanort stood to his feet, ready to unleash a haymaker—

"Order twenty-nine," said one of the workers, delivering Xehanort's order of coffee and hash browns.

"Much appreciated." After giving his mocha latte a quick sip, Xehanort fired off, "Mistress of Swill, begone from arena! I may not be Brad, but you're certainly no Angelina!"

Maleficent gasped. "Your mother."

"Cow."

"Elf."

"Tree."

"Sphincter."

Suddenly, Vanitas walked in, sounding quite angry behind his mask. "Yo, old man! I thought you were getting your crap to-go! What's the deal?"

The smoke disappeared. The lights returned to normal. Xehanort grabbed his drink and tray of hash browns, heading for the exit. Casually, he told his young ward, "Let us leave this wretched place."

Following the old man, Vanitas commented, "So you're stealing the tray."

Settling down from their previous skirmish of rhymes, Maleficent vowed lowly, "This isn't over."

Then, she vanished in green flames, heading back to the lab in preparation for their next chance encounter.