Sneak peak at death
Caution yellow crime scene tape roped the area. Within moments of disaster, a slew of media vans and cop cars rushed to the parking lot. Red and blue light played against the spindle shaped building's outer walls. Police vainly warned curious onlookers and pushed boisterous news reporters away.
"Mr. Xemnas, any comments?" A man thrust his mike at the CEO's face. "A murder occurred in the vicinity of Organization XIII, how do you think this will affect the image of your company from now? Mr. Xemnas-" the reporter jostled for space as the silver haired man turned, "a comment please!"
"Sir." Another woman, bright red lipstick smeared across her lips, assaulted Xemnas with a recording device. "Sir, do you know these people?" She gestured to the paramedics loading two bodies in separate ambulances and trotted after the retreating CEO. "Mr. Xemnas, if someone does decide to use this opportunity to sue you, what will be your course of action?"
The superior crossed his arms and briskly walked to the flashing ambulance. The paramedics' reflective clothing glowed eerily bright as they worked in a methodic frenzy. One stretcher clattered inside, a team frantically bent over the individual, faces grim beneath their surgical masks.
"What are their conditions?" Xemnas asked; a pair of bodyguards clothed in long black cloaks, flanked him protectively on both sides. "Are they both alive?"
A medic slapped on a pair of scrubs. "The man's heart stopped beating," he distractedly supplied. "We are working on it. Several of the girl's limbs were dislocated, this is all I can tell you with a preliminary examination, excuse me." He dove back into the flurry of activity and grabbed a prepared defibrillator, conversing with his co-workers in low, hurried tones.
The night's chilly air seeped through the light, silk shirt Xemnas wore but he did not feel cold. Rather a burning sensation pricked his dark skin as he stalked to the second group of paramedics. They cut the woman's dress, starched stiff by blood, off. Her arm bent at an awkward angle and bruises flowered across the skin peeking from beneath the hospital sheet.
"Where is Saix?" he asked one of the guards, "and get me Xigbar, immediately."
One bodyguard obeyed without a word and glided across the sticky asphalt. The other stayed with him, vigilant.
Avoiding the news crews and standing safely among a knot of policemen, Xemnas calmly checked the caller I.D when his phone blared; the nearest police jumped a foot in the air. Irritably tucking his hair behind his ears, he received it. "Yes?"
"Superior, we have a situation," Xigbar rasped. "In the Warehouse, Level 13."
"What is it?" Xemnas demanded, voice on edge. He did not like the static air and the moons drifting between the clouds. The grey night sky swallowed all the stars. The superior heard unintelligible conversation on the other end. His fingers tightened on his smartphone.
"Poppet is dead." Xigbar informed. "You should see the situation for yourself, I don't want to be the bearer of bad news." His heavy exhale crackled through the phone. "Axel from Level 8 and Saix from Level 7 are missing."
Xemnas' head spun. He cut the call and slowly buttoned his shirt all the way to the collar. "There is a circumstance in the building which needs attending to," he huskily voiced to a captain, "call me if you need me, otherwise I do not want to be disturbed." The police nodded her consent and he strode away, the guard hurrying at his heels.
As the CEO left, a number of the reporters redirected their attention to the crime scene proper and hounded the ambulances. The air reeked of iron. Stains spread across the asphalt, blood dried under the wheel of a nearby moped. The paramedics closed the ambulance doors as the media approached with their cameras and mikes. One, tires squealing, peeled away, its siren wailing through the quiet night. The second ambulance rung the siren once and followed at a slower pace.
Inside, they strapped the brunette securely and hooked him on advanced life support. Nurses stood over the man, carefully removing his shredded clothing and the damp scarf around his neck. They waited expectantly for vital signs.
Beep!
The breathed a sigh of relief. Some clenched their shaking hands.
Beep!
The heart rate on the cardiac monitor climbed and stabilized. The patient inhaled feebly, the lead medic pushed down his mask and retreated to a corner, hawk eyed gaze on the monitors for any signs of complications.
Beep!
The monitor chimed again. The patient was out of danger, for now.
Dinner sat alone on the dining table, arranged with two plates and cutlery; the apartment smelled of crab salad.
A late night sitcom droned on the television and dim light illuminated Vanitas sprawled on the bed, phone in a loose grasp as he snored softly. The clock ticked, his boots dirtied the sheet, sent to the Laundromat only a day ago; he turned and the phone slid out of his palm, tethering at the edge of his sofa bed.
Curtains fluttered in a sudden breeze, he bolted upright when his device vibrated and groped in the dark, cursing.
"Who the heck is th- Sora?" He squinted at the time. "It's past midnight." Grumbling, he put his ear to the phone, preparing to yell at his brother for staying out so late. Who cared if Sora was the older twin? He was only older by around six minutes. Who gave him the right to keep Vanitas waitin-
"Excuse me, this is emergency services," an unknown voice offered.
Emergency services? Vanitas peered at his screen. From Sora's phone?
What happened? His stomach collapsed on its self.
"I regret to inform you of Clavius' accident," the calm voice continued, "he has been assaulted near Organization XIII and is in critical-"
"What happened to my brother?" Vanitas screamed, crushing the phone. "Where is he?" he loudly demanded, heart beating in his throat. "I want to speak to him!" he growled. "Let me speak to Sora!"
"I'm sorry Mr. Clavius," the informant continued after a measured pause. "Sora is under no condition to speak, he is currently in a coma-"
"What the hell?" Vanitas scrambled out of bed, only to have the bed sheet tangle with his legs. He fell; chin colliding painfully against the carpeted floor. "What the hell?" He angrily grabbed the remote and muted the television, hands trembling uncontrollably.
"Mr. Clavius, please calm down," the nurse soothed and waited while he swore. "Sora is undergoing treatment at the General Hospital, visiting hours are at-" Click. "Mr. Clavius?" the nurse's voice rose timorously, "Mr. Clavius you cannot... he cut the line," she said to the doctor.
What the hell? Vanitas stared at his phone, at the clock and back at his phone. He pulled off his boots, staggered to the light switch and the apartment flooded with light. Dusty footprints created a line from the door and grabbing a dust pan and brush from under the sink; he scrubbed the dust from the luxurious carpet, emptied the pan and returned in the cupboard.
A dirty pot and strainer soaked in the sink and he washed them, drying his hands on a red checkered dishcloth. Unable to bear the silence, he unmuted the flatscreen and burst in the frosted glass walled room situated in one corner of their apartment.
No rhythmic breathing.
Absentmindedly, Vanitas meandered back into the lounge, he picked a fork and dug into the crab salad.
He chewed, hardly tasting anything.
Sora... in an accident. What was his brother doing alone at Organization XIII?
Snatching his jacket, draped over the chaise lounge, Vanitas headed out. The quiet night slammed like a wall in his face. Hardly any cabs drove at this hour and pools of light, shining from streetlamps, showed the empty streets, snaking through town. He waited impatiently for five minutes and broke into a run, summoning Void Gear in a gloved palm.
Dark corridors could not be used anywhere other than the portal room, Vanitas recalled the rule, he couldn't create dark corridors anyway but the KBWA never said anything about teleporting.
Jumping through space-time nauseated him. His stomach roiled as he flitted in and out of the material world, diving temporarily into the realm of orange, transparent settings. When he teleported, the other realm became tangible, he slipped on sand, the ocean winds wafted salt up his nostrils and the experience ended abruptly, giving way to high rise buildings, the slick of oil on the roads and the tang of exhaust fumes clogging the city.
By the time he arrived at the General Hospital, the organic bodysuit covered nearly every inch of his body. Pulling off the helmet, he stomped to the reception and the personnel on duty gawked, frightened at the liquid blackness raining from his body.
"I'm… here for Sora... Clavius..." he gasped for breath, he wanted to curl in a fetal position and sleep. "Which... room," Vanitas gripped the wooden counter for support "is he... in?"
The nurse, alarmed by the fatigue addling the young man's golden irises, directed him to the seating area. "Please take a seat sir," she requested, unfazed when he glared. "We will take you to Mr. Clavius as soon as you recover your breath." She did not want to agitate the menacing stranger by telling him that patients were not allowed to take visitors yet.
Glowering at the nurse some more, Vanitas relented and sunk into a seat, willing his strength to recover. He cupped his hands, cast cure on himself and hopped back to the receptionist as she smiled tightly at him, bewildered by the instantaneous return of his energy.
"Sir..." She braced herself for an argument, possibly cursing and death threats as well. A weird flesh suit covered half his body, peeling away from a long, leather jacket, his face promised pain to anyone daring to contradict him. "Visiting hours have not started yet. I urge you to please be patient."
"And I urge you to look the other way as I dash upstairs. Don't worry; I'm good at evading security." With this, he zipped through a line of elderly patients sedately coming down. Vanitas weaseled into the elevator while the doors slid together and once inside, grinned sarcastically at the nurse.
The lift doors shut as she regained her composure and reached for the telephone to warn security about a lunatic on the loose.
I should've at least asked what floor he's on; Vanitas seethed as he manually verified the names near each room. The search through the hospital exhausted him and when he asked a friendly nurse on the whereabouts Sora, she inquired at the reception. Blanching, he quietly stole away when she turned and resumed hunting for his elusive brother.
Emergency patients were on every floor, but where on earth was his twin? Plodding alone under the bone white glare of fluorescent lights, Vanitas chuckled bitterly at himself, all the trawling cost him hours. The sun rose on a cloudy, balmy day and determined to find Sora's room before visiting hours, Vanitas rubbed his tired eyes and resumed searching with renewed vigor. He inattentively patted his pockets for a potion.
Damn, could use a potion right about now.
He finally found the room on the fourteenth floor and halted after rounding the corner. Security guarded the chamber and Vanitas fumed. He held a couple of cold coffees and dropped into a plastic chair opposite the two guards. Popping the seal of one can and drinking it, Vanitas concocted a plan to successfully distract the guard and slip in.
Raised voices echoed from the hallway reeking of disinfectant and plastered with charts purporting medical advice.
A spiky haired man stumbled into view, his face so pale, Vanitas thought he might faint. Getting up from his seat, he waited for an opportunity as the nurse at the receptionist hurried after the man, a knot of people followed her, Sora's attorney buddies.
"My daughter?" Phoenix choked. "Trucy?"
Trucy? Vanitas remembered the gaudy, silk cape clad girl. Was she with Sora?
The nurse relieved the guards of their post and politely dipping their heads, they quietly moved away.
"My Trucy is in there? Can I see her?" Wright clutched his hair, steadied by Maya. A closed door sign blinked above the chamber. "I feel like I'm going to throw up," he swallowed audibly. "Can I get something cold?" Phoenix moaned and buried his face into his hands.
"Here," Vanitas presented a can of coffee and the lawyer group collectively gawped at him. "What?" he barked, suddenly furious, "my brother was involved in an accident too, or haven't you heard?"
A man leaning against the wall came forward. "I'm sorry," he said and rubbed his wrist, enclosed by a thick, golden bangle. "Trucy went with Sora to get you some stuff and they..." Apollo stared at his shoes, his throat swelled shut. When a hysterical Mr. Wright phoned him to relay the news about Trucy, Apollo jumped out of the shower and hailed a taxi to the General Hospital, his hair dripping water all over the cab's seats. "I'm sorry," he forced the words out of his throat, "I should've gone with them... this wouldn't..." he clamped up.
"Apollo..." Athena squeezed his arm comfortingly. "It's not your fault." The nurse beckoned them in the room. "It's no one's fault." She gave a gentle tug when he glued to the floor. "Come on, I'm sure Trucy would like to see you." Athena pulled him inside. "Come on," she insisted.
Vanitas waited for Wright to enter before blazing through the double doors and shoving past the nurse in waiting. A curtain separated two beds and his golden irises glazed over hospital equipment. Cardiac monitors beeped steadily, electric green lines running across a digital screen. Small tables beside the beds. Bags of light yellow IV fluid hung on strands, wires, wires running into... oh my God... Sora?
A light blue sheet covered the scrawny body laid on the bed. Fingers denting the cold cans, Vanitas lurched closer. A clear oxygen mask covered the lower part of his brother's face. Sora's eyes sealed shut, thick eyelashes clogged with dirt. Putting the coffee cans on the bedside table, Vanitas touched the mask.
"Sir, please don't-" a nurse warned and he glared at her. She stopped in her tracks; palms open in a calming gesture. "He is under intensive care, please be careful." The nurse stepped back when he raised his hand from the oxygen mask.
Smoothing Sora's hair from his forehead, Vanitas studied his brother. His tan features blanched, the result of blood loss and the mask fogged ever so slightly with faint breaths. An IV drip supplied saline, several wires hooked into Sora's veins.
His expression was morbidly peaceful.
Vanitas tugged the hospital gown, horrified at the jagged scars starting at the collarbones. Hysterical, he pushed the sheet aside while the nurse tried in vain to calm him and stared at the giant cross marking Sora's chest. The wounds crusted with a paper thin layer of skin and leaked a sticky fluid.
A deep cut hatched under his left ribs, ending in a skew fashion as if something distracted the assailant when he tried to finish the deed.
"Who... who did this?" Vanitas whispered as the nurse brushed past him to change the wet gown clinging to Sora for a dry one. "Let me help," he demanded. "I take care of him all the time-"
The nurse bowed her head in acknowledgement. "We appreciate your concern, but it would be best if you let us look after the patient," she stated and put on a pair of latex gloves.
"Let me help!" Vanitas stopped shy of roaring. The beeping monitors, the surgically clean equipment frightened him. "He's my brother." The IV drip plopped unnaturally loudly in his ears. Why did the room smell of death and antiseptic? Why was Sora surrounded by these strange things, so helpless; so deathly pale? Not talking. Not stammering or sending Vanitas disapproving half-glares for being too loud and unruly? "Please," he begged. "I just want... I want to hold his hand," he feebly squeaked.
The nurse complied with his request and carefully squeezing Sora's limp hand with both his own, Vanitas dutifully stood aside. Cold. He rubbed little circles on his brother's knuckles.
Please wake up soon. He prayed.
And tell me who did this to you.
I'll paint the road with their guts. Vanitas was careful not to crush his brother's hand.
On the other side of the curtain, Wright slumped on a stool and gazed glassily at his daughter. Blue black bruises blossomed on her shoulders and arms. He laced his fingers with hers, thumb brushing against the fine cut running across four of her fingers. The nurse related her injuries, whoever attacked Sora made sure to disarm her by twisting her limbs out of their joints, extremely painful, but often not fatal. Phoenix breathed a sigh of relief, guilt bubbling in his chest for feeling this way when Sora see-sawed between the delicate balance of life and death.
"Visiting hours will end shortly," a strict, matronly nurse announced from the doorway, a clipboard in her hand and eyes narrowed surreptitiously on Vanitas, who seemed disinclined to move from his seat on the table beside Sora's bed.
Getting up, Wright pressed a soft kiss on Trucy's forehead. He missed the happiness his daughter radiated and for a split, panicked moment, envisioned life without her. The earth spun beneath his feet and he inhaled deeply, smiling shakily at the nurse who enquired if anything was wrong.
On the other side, Apollo placed his bracelet near her head, his brown eyes swimming with a myriad of emotions and finally hardening to anger. Athena brushed a stray lock of hair behind Trucy's ear while Maya respectfully waited next to Wright, her hands clasped over the magatama jewel around her neck.
The uneasy silence in the ward shattered with a piercing ringtone. Vanitas' shadow on the curtain moved and he cursed belligerently. "Vice-chief," he strained to keep his voice from an aggressive scream. "I won't be coming to work today." He dared the heard nurse to contradict. "What?" Phoenix pulled the curtain apart to better understand what went on. "What do you mean Boss is getting arrested for murder?"
A cackle of static bled over the speakers. "We require your presence Clavius," Tifa ordered. "Make sure I find you at the Association building in thirty minutes." She abruptly cut the call.
The warehouse reeked.
The stench of blood and copper.
Scars pitted the floor; scorch marks ran near the shrink wrapped inventory boxes piled neatly against the walls.
The E-mart floor crunched with the remains of cracked glass. Xigbar, long, grey streaked hair tossed loosely over his shoulder, stood with his arms crossed under a flickering tube light. Next to him, Marluxia scrunched his nose, two identical black coats fisted in each palm. The two men parted at the superior's approach and Xemnas came to a screeching halt in his tracks.
Roxas?
Two hunched teenagers, crouched back to back; faced a monitor covering half the wall and a shattered window respectively. Their hoods were drawn back and they stared lifelessly at their laps. Pale moonlight reflected off the crushed glass, glittering like diamond snow.
Xemnas found himself in front of Roxas, the boy's sky blue irises dull. "Ven..." he whispered to himself and frowned.
Ven? Who?
Palming Roxas' eyelids closed, he attempted to pick the teenager. The stiff body resisted efforts at manipulation and Xemnas glared at Xion, wearing the identical, pitiful mien of Roxas. "Discard the puppet," he ordered and saluting, Xigbar hefted the corpse off the floor. "Have you found Saix and Axel?" the superior asked, voice gruff.
"We are under the impression they deserted Organization XIII." Marluxia gulped inaudibly when Xemnas rounded on him, golden irises sparking in wrath. "Sir," the cosmetician offered the jackets, "Zexion did an initial investigation, he reported a fight took place. Roxas was killed by one of us." This enraged Xemnas even more and fearing for his life, Xigbar absconded, Xion draped over his shoulder. "I wonder if you remember what Saix said?"
There is a traitor amongst us.
Xemnas examined Roxas' ashen face. He would never see him smiling, or laughing. His eyes would never leak tears as he woke from dreams too painful to recall. Ven would never wake him up in the middle of the night and tell him of lurking nightmares, or drag him for an emergency trip to the bathroom.
Peeling Roxas off the bloody, concrete floor, Xemnas carried him. "I want to be at the KBWA in fifteen minutes," he marched out, "Level 5 will accompany me."
Dawn broke across Los Angeles in a rosy blush. A solitary cloud straggled the horizon, shockingly pink and the street lights flickered off simultaneously as early morning workers dragged themselves to work. A sleek SUV purred across mostly empty roads with Lexaeus at the wheel and a large pair of transparent goggle-screens covered his eyes, a map blinking on the glasses. Behind him, the superior gazed out of the window, golden irises inscrutable.
"We are almost there, sir," Lexaeus stated.
Zexion found him in the late hours of the night, in the Level 5 open plan office, surrounded by silicon chips and blue prints on grid paper. Halogen lights illuminated a work bench where he used a mini screwdriver to attach the last magnetic screw on a new model he worked on. The smart phone beeped to life, the Org XIII logo spinning in a hypnotic circle.
"The visible part of the building is only two stories," Lexaeus further added, "as the schematics flashed on his goggle-screens, "the rest of it is underground and highly protected. Sir, I think it is a mistake to go in unarmed."
Xemnas ignored the burly man and pulled off his silk shirt. The cold air inside the car rose goosebumps on his arms and he pulled on a midnight black coat over his dark skin. His hair caught in the silver zipper and working it free, he laced his boots and tightened his gloves as the SUV halted at the gate.
A guard stepped out with a portable metal detector. "Identification?" he requested and tipped his cap.
"Xemnas," the CEO huskily supplied from the back.
"Reason for your visit?" the security fired a text to the reception and held Lexaeus' angular gaze despite weakening knees. "I need to confirm your reason for visiting," he stressed, voice relatively even.
The tinted window at the back of the SUV whirred downwards. "You don't need to know," Xemnas hissed softly, "I want a word with Leon," he glanced impassively at the camera and the window rolled up, reflecting the guard's face, "immediately."
The subtle threat hung in the air long after the polished car passed through the gates. A shimmering, transparent barrier vaporized the attendant Sorcerer nobody and both higher nobodies clenched their teeth in pain as they travelled through a dozen unseen boarders. The SUV eased into a parking spot and an arc of lightning leaped through the mirror panels on both sides and violently tore the car's roof. Lexaeus' glasses cracked, the interface beeping a warning before it fell off his face. The radio emitted a squeal of static before belching acrid black smoke.
Vice-chief Lockhart waited for them in the reception, a spiked knuckleduster slipped over her left hand. Behind her, the activity in the KBWA continued, operatives visited the individual booths, the most pressing inquiries shuttled to the smiling receptionist wearing a canary yellow dress, her hair cascading in soft twists around bare shoulders.
"You ruined our car," Lexaeus growled, a thin, scarlet line over his nose. The Organization XIII visitors smelled of burnt electronics.
Gesturing them upstairs, Tifa led the way, her long hair swaying. "We agreed to inform each other before making contact," she reminded and weaved through the chaotic control room to the glass cube room nestled between. "You ignored our standard measures and brought in a vehicle fitted with unauthorized technology," the door opened, "we had to take counter measures." Tifa stood stiffly by the side of the door while the control room technicians spoke loudly into mikes, deaf and blind to the external environment.
"Outside," Xemnas instructed Lexaeus and stepped into the boardroom. The sounds fell away, as if forcibly pushed out. He closed the door behind him and Leon, sprawled over a metal chair, pressed a button on the underside of the table and the glass walls darkened like wet ink. "Are we completely alone?" Xemnas asked, swiveling to the camera peeping at him from the corner.
Stirring upright with a groan and messily brushing his hair, Leon gestured at the camera. "For the time being, Tifa is to extract me should events turn for the unexpected; otherwise, all High-tier members are currently banned." Resting his chin on clasped hands, Squall waited for Xemnas. "...How long are you going to stand there?"
Jaws tightening in anger, Xemnas checked his watch; he sensibly left his phone at his office.
Leon rose from the chair, hand reaching for his holster, permanently hidden by a handkerchief spilling out of his pocket. "What are you-" He pointed the Gunblade, light blue eyes narrowing in suspicion when a muffled knock sounded on door.
An ethereal blade whistled dangerous close to Leon's neck and he dodged it at a hair's breadth. A half smile lifted the corner of his lips at the unadulterated fury in Xemnas' eyes and the energy blade shredded Leon's fur lined jacket. He shrugged it off, threw it and the nobody diced it into patches of leather.
"Who is the traitor?" Xemnas demanded, deceptively calm. "He was part of my Organization as well; I do not take betrayals lightly."
Gunblade raised protectively, Leon stood behind a chair, slightly bewildered. "I take it he has been successful? I didn't know he was back." He edged closer to the table while the nobody tightened his hold on the ethereal blades. "The traitor is part of my Association as well; and I do not take loyalty lightly." Leon pressed the switch and the wet ink clouding the glasses cleared.
He froze.
An entire police force and a regiment of military personnel in tactical gear swarmed the perimeter of the unassuming KBWA building. They charged through the doors, cradling assault weapons and the detection gate situated in the vestibule blared a cacophony. A team marched up the stairs and forced activity in the control room to halt; five men fanned around Tifa and she raised her arms over her head when several laser sights pointed at her forehead and chest. More men poured in and sealed the exits, combat boots thundered on the floor in unison.
"I'll leave the traitor, give me Saix." Xemnas retracted his blades and Leon slowly put the Gunblade on the polished marble table. "And I will call off the arrest. If you persist in this foolishness," the nobody raised his chin; irises narrowed dangerously, "I will make your life a miserable one. Choose wisely, Leonhart."
The police captain, attended by a retinue of constables acknowledged Xemnas. They collectively glared at the leader of the KBWA as Leon used an infuriatingly long time to arrive at a decision. The man put out his wrists, fists clenched, light blue eyes never leaving Xemnas. The CEO inhaled, swallowed angrily and brushing nonexistent dirt off his coat lapel, nodded at the police and in a whirl of silver hair and black material, stalked out of the office, blood beating in his temples.
Lockhart coolly sidestepped, the knuckle duster glimmering eerily in the wash of blue light from the screens. Her composed facade cracked when the constables escorted Leon out of the boardroom, metal cuffs shackling his hands.
She followed them, ducking past a guard. "Squall?" Tifa demanded and pushed a gun barring her way. "What is going on?" He laconically tilted his head. "The police have no authority here." She underlined her point by punching a dent in the wall and a technician shrieked about costs. "Where are they taking you?" Lockhart followed the police down the stairs and they marched faster, hauling Leon with them, intimidated by the vice-chief's long strides.
Jostled by the police and defying their attempts to stuff him in a black and white cop car, Leon turned. "The Black Saint." He irritably shook off the many hands grabbing him. "Tell him I'm getting arrested." The chief chuckled humorlessly and sat in the car as the constable rushed to secure him.
The rest of Leon's words muffled as the door banged shut. Tires squealed; and the car pulled away, a signal for the rest of the assault team to follow. The vehicles followed one by one, a long line snaking over the bend and disappeared to the police precinct.
Lexaeus stood at the ruined SUV, wondering how he would make it back to the Organization XIII building with his smoldering boss in a tow. A moogle teleported next to them, wings quivering at Xemnas' withering glare.
"The vice-chief kupo," the creature squeaked, "has granted you access to the portal room on the last floor, please use it to get back. I'll be your guide." The furry monster squeezed its eyes shut and teleported, leaving behind a slight shimmer in the air.
Inarticulate from rage, Vanitas stomped into the building, the veins in neck bulging visibly. He irritably emptied his smart devices on a tray and stalked to the elevator, situated on the other side of the luxurious foyer. The reception operated smoothly and frowning in confusion, he rolled his eyes upwards, willing the dregs of his patience to surface and keep him going for the day. The elevator reflected ripped jeans and bed hair and rubbing his eyes, he stepped off when it dinged and straightened instinctively at the vice-chief sitting in Leon's office chair, a worried expression crinkling her forehead.
"Clavius," he saluted lazily, his wrath temporarily tempered, "reporting for duty." A porcelain mug steamed on the desk and Tifa sipped from it. "Whatever happened, make it quick, Sora..." Vanitas faltered, "is in a coma."
There, he said it.
Accepted it.
"The King?" Tifa warmed her hands on a mug of lavender moon milk Ariel whipped up for her the moment Squall left the Association in handcuffs. She swapped her heels for a pair of flat pumps and her legs ached for reasons unknown. "What happened to him?"
"It doesn't matter," Vanitas snarled. "Apparently boss has been arrested?"
"Who attacked Sora?" Lockhart ignored his question and spun a sleek laptop towards her.
Gnashing his teeth, Vanitas shoved his hands in his pockets. "It. Doesn't. Matter," he seethed," willing the laptop to burst into flames. "What happened to Leon?"
The tapping of keys preceded an answer. "Mr. Xemnas accused Leon of murdering his..." she confirmed her guesses with the information on the laptop screen, "E-mart employees." A picture of the blonde delivery boy and a cute girl in a bob haircut flashed on the monitor. "Xion and Roxas, both found dead in the warehouse." A proud, almost motherly smile flitted on Tifa's beautiful face and Vanitas focused on the silk screen, willing himself not to blush. "Another Special Assignment has finished, I suppose I need to pay him a visit," she mused softly. "Anyway," she flicked her hair, "Squall ordered me to inform you about his arrest."
"Do I look like an attorney to you?" Vanitas drawled, his anger surging back like a tidal wave. He drowned in the gut twisting feeling of anxiety and uselessness. If he wasn't in Atlantica... if he wasn't being such a whining twat about Zack's death... "I told you." He sighed with long suffering patience. "Sora could have helped but he's currently... indisposed…" The Black Saint paused to sort the mess in his head. "I can ask Mr. Wright," he quickly stated, a plan unfolding in his mind. "My brother was found in Organization's parking lot, but in turn, I get full access to whatever is going on."
The vice-chief nodded in grave assent.
"Just one thing." Vanitas recalled the strictness with which the Wright and Co. Lawyers agency operated, "Leon didn't actually kill anyone, did he?"
The whirlwind devil exploding into his office exacerbated the already escalating headache forcing Wright to lie on the couch. He breathed through his nose, prayed to whatever God was up there to have pity on him and rubbing his temples, sat upright. Sora's scowling, pale twin yanked the curtains apart and Phoenix yelped in surprise as the sun poked red hot needles in his eyes. The floor kept tilting under him and placing the blanket across his lap, he waited for Clavius to speak.
"You have a client," the young man spoke and not for the first time, Wright wondered how the two came to be twins. The raven haired Clavius' voice grated like razor wire. "My boss, Leon, he's been accused falsely of murder and is probably in a detention center now." Vanitas sat on the leather chair behind the huge, oak wood desk spread with papers and files. He noticed Sora's neat scrawl on some of the documents. "He didn't really kill anyone," Vanitas toyed with a paperweight on the desk, "not this time anyway."
Wright laughed nervously and questioned why the universe hated him so much.
"And... I'm sorry about Trucy." Vanitas respectfully lowered his eyes. At home, Sora gushed about his attorney buddies and he smiled at the animated sparkle in his twin's eyes. "I'll make them pay, whoever did this to them." Vanitas smacked a knuckle in his palm, a habit he picked up from the vice-chief. "They'll regret coming across my brother... and your daughter," he added quickly.
While Phoenix listened to Vanitas' thinly disguised threats with mounting concern, Apollo rushed in and Wright contemplated on taking the door off. No one knew how to knock anymore. "Polly," Wright pounced on the opportunity with predator's grace, "I have a case for you." Clavius opened his mouth to protest and Phoenix powered on, "Apollo is a senior attorney in my firm, he'll be more than enough to handle the case."
Justice shot a quick look at Vanitas, he did not need a bracelet to sense the danger roiling off the scowling individual in waves. "I'll handle the case," he stiffly stated. "I mentor Sora," Apollo clarified and blinked in fascination as the mistrust in Clavius' eyes melted, reforming to something akin to respect. "I'll do my best."
Vanitas burrowed in the comfortable chair, attention snared by a framed graduation photo of Trucy on the table. His gaze lingered on her radiant smile and bright, blue eyes and looked up at the two older men staring expectantly at him.
"What?" he demanded, brows furrowing, "I'm staying here till my next visit to the hospital."
Contemplation
Late night
Organization XIII headquarters, CEO's office.
What is he thinking of?
Saix pondered as he placed the weekly report on Xemnas' desk. A troop of Sorcerers loped silently around the office, drawing the curtain across the floor to ceiling length windows and switching news channels. The superior's contemplative gaze rested on a myriad of mute news anchors and he dutifully scribbled on a tablet with his silver stylus.
"Level 5 launched their flagship smartphone today, all available units were sold out therefore I suggested a limited edition with a price markup to tide the sales while news ones are manufactured," Saix droned emotionlessly. "Vexen demands more space for his laboratory, Zexion is complaining of not enough privacy," he reported. "Roxas," the name tasted sour in his mouth, "has begun to display errant behavior. His mood does not match the Wind mage's matrix. I have asked for adjustment."
The superior finally raised his head, burnished gold irises glassy from a thousand thoughts. "The traitor?"
Inclining his head differentially, Saix murmured, "I apologize sir, it seems I have been mistaken." His face hardened into an indifferent mask. "Organization XIII does not breed traitors."
A/N: Whew… turns out instead of Sora, Roxas kicked the bucket. I like portraying the relationship between Trucy and Phoenix. I have a feeling Wright would do anything for his darling daughter.
Sora is in a coma, help him survive by reading and reviewing :P