Softly uttered curses

12:30 a.m.

Sunshine Coliseum

Vanity room

The door opened with a bang. Sora stood in the middle, brown hair sticking in odd angles and the police turned questioningly to him. Klavier raised an eyebrow while Demyx slurped a pale blue slushy, the heart shaped tattoos on his face flaking.

Thick silence.

"I...uh, I am here to ask," Sora stuttered. "I'm here to conduct an investigation," he grit out, eyes watering with the effort of maintaining eye contact. He focused on Klavier's reflection in a mirror. "People were killed... murdered, and I need to determine the perpetrator-" he babbled, "-to make sure my client is not wrongly accused of murder."

The scent of fragrant smoke and ocean water masked the reek of sweat. A string of dim light bulbs illuminated the room with a mysterious atmosphere.

"You already have a client?" the police constable asked, surprise in the arches of his raised eyebrows.

"Never mind," Klavier cut in, expression screwed into an exasperated frown. "Who gave you the authority to conduct an investigation?"

I'm never trusting a prosecutor again, no matter how friendly they appear. Stupid sharks.

Stepping inside the room, Sora adjusted a prop stand. "Mr. Wright," he lied. He lifted a hat and replaced it agitatedly. "The people outside think it's a terrorist attack from some fanatic fan, but I'm not so sure." Klavier waved the policemen outside and they complied, shutting the door after them. Sora breathed deeply. The walls pressed like a heavy wrap around him. "The victims were too random and no suspicious character was caught at the roadblocks. Besides, Vanitas," Demyx continued drinking his slushy nonchalantly, "would know if someone in the crowd did it," Sora asserted.

"Heartless spawn around people with dark intentions. They rip out a heart and create a nobody. Nobodies are beings without the capability to feel emotions, which allows them to carry out any sort of deed without remorse." Vanitas read to Sora from a thick, gold leafed tome.

"How-" the prosecutor began.

"He's a trained soldier," Sora interjected, "he knows when someone is shifty." He wiped sweaty hands on his tight jeans. "He is under orders from the KBWA."

Startling, Demyx spilled the last drops of his slushy and mopped the liquid with his sleeve. A tiny fleck of paint drifted from his face. "I have this nagging feeling you came here to accuse me of murder?" He brushed his caramel bangs backwards. "Don't bother, the police already decided it's me, Klavier opposed them." He shot a grateful glance to his friend but the thoughtful frown did ease from the prosecutor's forehead. "I didn't do anything," Demyx leaned against the vanity table and pulled out his earphones, "I'm innocent."

Innocent? Hah, and Xemnas is a saint.

The door opened to a blast of fresh air and Phoenix Wright stepped in, followed by Athena. His dark blue irises swept across the room, lingering at the overflowing trash can and the fan gifts heaped in a corner. A box tumbled from the pile and fell open, revealing a bouquet of felt roses and chocolate wrapped in crinkled paper. The accompanying note was signed to Demyx in elegant script.

"The Detective outside told me you are the accused?" Wright asked the idol who nodded tiredly. "Did you contact a lawyer?"

Distress seeped in Sora's chest at the questions.

Fiddling with a piece of wire and shoving the earphones in his pocket, Demyx shrugged. "I was hoping your agency could represent me," he suggested with an easy smile. "I didn't commit the crime. How am I supposed to? I was with Klavier the whole time." The prosecutor agreed gravely. "And when Organization XIII packed their bags and left, I terminated my contract with them."

More suffocating silence.

"Sora," Sora's stomach dropped, "see if you can find anything." Wright gestured to the room. "Any evidence."

"You... Mr. Wright, you aren't expecting me to defend him are you?" He's guilty. It's written all over his face. He has something to do with Vanitas' disappearance. "He's an Organization-" Demyx opened his mouth to correct him, "he's a former Organization XIII member and... and whenever they-"

Wright clasped the hyperventilating associate by the shoulder, worried by the blood snaking down Sora's nose. "I understand, but there is a chance he might be innocent." His employee snorted rebelliously. "And if you are convinced he is guilty, we won't represent him." He fished a tissue from his pocket, glowing with the jade light of his magatama. "In any case, he's not lying is he?" Phoenix dabbed the blood.

How should I know?

"Prosecutor Gavin, I'd like a word with you," Wright requested and the two stepped outside, in the rumble of complaints and wails from the fans. Ambulances added to the cacophony. More of them pulled into the stadium, loaded with a patient and sped away, sirens blaring, lights flashing. Tugging his blazer tighter around the biting chill of the wind, Phoenix followed Klavier backstage. "The murders are erratic," he stated and Detective Gumshoe joined them, thick eyebrows drawn in a scowl. "The relationship between the murdered are mostly non-existent, fans from both the front row stand and the very back were killed or wounded." Phoenix's footsteps echoed in the wings as he moved backstage. "Perhaps the most important mystery is the unexplained disappearance of Vanitas."

The prosecutor halted. "Herr Clavius is missing?" he repeated in disbelief.

"Yeah pal," Gumshoe responded, scratching the stubble on his chin. "We contacted the KBWA and they immediately traced his cellphone. He is in a place with no reception." Klavier tugged his short hair agitatedly. "Which means he is in a different country. Pal, you can't escape to a different country in such a small amount of time can you? With customs and all, and there are no unregistered aircraft or vehicles..." Gumshoe trailed off.

Back in the vanity room, Sora rooted in the pile of gifts, inhaling the earthy aroma of chocolate. He tossed a delicately crafted chocolate shell in his mouth and crunched it, glaring at Demyx. The singer laconically answered questions from Athena. Giving them a wide berth, Sora kicked the trashcan and it fell with a muffled thump. He toed the multitude of papers and squatted to pick a crumpled sheet of music, smoothing it in his lap.

Collab, it read, with bars and notations.

Placing it in a folder, he rifled through more scrunched paper balls, ironing them out. Most of them showed the concert details. Names of engineers, the light technicians and sound crew. Others specified plans, scribbles from both Gavin and Demyx. Sora admired the prosecutor's beautiful, looping handwriting before realizing it belonged to Demyx.

He rooted in the bin, extracting a dog eared piece of paper from the bottom. Another sheet of music. Flattening it, Sora opened his folder and compared the two.

The sheets held different music notations and bars. The second sheet only consisted of a few notes, looped endlessly.

No title.

Another search yielded no results. Obsessively checking his phone, Sora called Vanitas again and met with the same bland message. His heart did a backflip and bounced in his ribcage for good measure. Swallowing, Sora focused on the concert poster, ignoring the lights, the heavy weight presence of Demyx and the void created by the absence of his twin. The room ceased whirling and breathing evenly, he approached the singer, scribbling questions on a discarded piece of paper.

"I'm not going to defend you," he spat. Behind him, Athena logged pieces of evidence in Widget. "I'm going to ask you a few questions. Answer them truthfully."

The idol loosened his shirt collar. "I swear," he solemnly vowed, "I didn't murder anyone. I'm not like them, it's not my style."

Liar. Goddamn liar!

"Save your lies for someone who's interested," Sora snapped. "I'm only here because Mr. Wright asked me to question you." Like hell I want to share the same breathing space with you, freak. "I know Organization XIII members have attributes, can you tell me yours? Is it sound?"

Wearily exhaling, Demyx strung his Arpeggio. "Water," he reluctantly answered. "My no.1 track title, Dance, Water Dance, is actually a command," he whispered, wary of Cykes prowling the room. "But," Demyx hastily assured, "when Klavier and I sang it on stage, it didn't do anything did it? There was no evidence of water killing people, right?" A mournful tune escaped the guitar strings.

"Who knows what you're capable of," Sora harshly commented. "Thank you for your co-operation, I'll pass on your statements to Mr. Wright. Your prospects," he tucked the paper in his file, "your prospects don't look promising."

The attorney shuffled to his co-worker and exchanged words in quiet, serious tones. Slumped at the vanity table, Demyx observed them. The prospects did indeed appear bleak. Since Xigbar's murder of a prominent member of the KBWA, the police cracked on Organization XIII's underhanded projects and anyone associated with them received a bad reputation. Demyx participated in a few important missions for the company, this collaboration concert was the last of them.

However... he needed someone to save him from a life of jail. "Clavius," he called and the brown haired lawyer peeled away from his companion, "let's cut a deal." He grinned when the man stiffened in mistrust. "You defend me from the accusations and I'll tell you where the Black Saint is."

He knows where Vanitas is?

Toes curling in his boots, Sora glowered at the nobody. A flash of bright light heralded the appearance of the Kingdom Key and Athena stopped to stare. Its silver shaft reflected in Demyx's wide, pale blue eyes. "Tell me where you took my brother." Sora brandished the Keyblade. "And how did you murder all those people in the concert?" The tip of Kingdom Key glowed eerily. "What did you do with Vanitas? Where is he?"

The idol pushed the quivering weapon away from his cheek. "Err... are you threatening me?" he demanded, he'd seen floods more menacing than the trembling King. "It's not working." A smile danced in his irises. "Besides, I already told you, I didn't murder anyone."

Stepping back, Sora lowered the Kingdom Key. His palm sweated on the hilt and he glanced at Athena who shrugged apologetically.

Threat not working?

He bunched his scarf, the nobody's irritating smile grated on his nerves. Vanitas... his twin... alone somewhere.

Cracking his knuckles, Sora grabbed Demyx's throat. He leaned dangerously close, bright blue eyes hardening in cold fury. "Who else helped you with the murder?" he hissed, fingers tightening around soft flesh. The singer wheezed for air. "And where is Vanitas?"

Eyes bulging, Demyx's chest heaved, panicked gaze twisting to Athena, blissfully unaware of the events. A cyanotic tinge spread across his lips and Sora's fingers eased slightly, only to jam painfully against the adam's-apple. A savage smile cut his face.

"You know who kidnapped him," Sora growled and unable to take it anymore, Demyx wrenched free. He tenderly touched the bruise on his throat. "Vanitas... those guys probably holed him up in a dingy old place." For a split second, the incensed rage in Sora's irises tempered in concern. "Where is my brother?" the words seeped through clenched teeth and dripped like poison.

Grabbing the hands reaching for his neck, Demyx shuddered. "I didn't do anything," he wailed when Sora drove him into the table. "I thought you'd be reasonable-"

Sora shoved Demyx, the vanity cracked under their combined weight and the mirror shattered to the floor. Jagged silvers cut into skin and the Sora pinned the idol to the floor strewn with cracked light bulbs. "People seem to forget Vanitas and I are kin," he sneered, leaning his entire weight on the windpipe. "Where is my brother?" he growled. "He is alone," he fretted, voice dipping to a pathetic whine, "and cold... he doesn't have his favorite dragon and he probably can't sleep." Sora's grip slackened. "The Organization is going to kill him!"

"Let me out!" Vanitas clattered loudly and kicked the beaten, metal walls. "Fight me you goddamn pansy. I'll break these bars and use your body for target practice the moment I get out of here!" he cursed. "Freaking perverted old fart, I'll sic the police on you," Vanitas raged and banged his cuffs till they broke against the cage bars. Bloody circlets lined his wrists.

The gilded cage swung high above the room, bolted to the castle ceiling like an ornate chandelier. Ignoring the tinny squeaks erupting from the single cell, Xigbar lounged on a grey couch and flipped the newspaper. Ever since Organization XIII moved into the drab, monotone world of Castle Oblivion, news of the outside became scarce. He could poke their resident prisoner with a stick and taunt him, but after the KBWA released Xigbar, he learnt to let sleeping dogs lie.

Shrieks rained in the grey area whenever a member entered or left. Often, the superior stalked inside and rested his ponderous, burnished gold gaze on the cage. When the prisoner's words grew particularly vulgar, he sighed and left. Luxord created a game where the members bet on what new insults the Black Saint would introduce the following day; and the raven haired Clavius kept them amused while he battered himself in the cell.

Boot steps echoed in the grand hall and Xigbar lowered his newspaper, he read it for the fifth time in a row. He missed seeing his boss in crisp, formal attire. Charcoal black blazers paired with silk shirts and a complimentary tie. Nowadays, Xemnas wore his coat permanently.

Cue Vanitas spitting expletives. Something about mothers, goats and hell and Xigbar tuned out.

"Let him out," the superior ordered hoarsely when the cage swung perilously. "I want to talk to him."

Above, the Black Saint jangled violently.

Instinctively Xigbar touched the numerous stitches running on his scalp. "Are you sure?" he asked. The wide windows in the lounge offered a desolate glimpse of nothing but dusty roads branching from the castle. A corona of hazy darkness crowned the sky above the jagged turrets. "I don't think he'll receive your hospitality kindly. We should get extra security, just in case," Xigbar advised. Lately, when he closed his eyes to rest, the smirking profile of his interrogator haunted his dreams. "Put a barrier around him."

Lesser nobodies formed a loose semi-circle around the grey lounge. The Sorcerer nobodies kept faithfully close to the superior. Cards glowed on the floor, placed in a pentagram fashion and the drawn lines gleamed silver. Luxord cranked a lever and the domed cage swung down. Vanitas snarled at his captors to let his cell down gently.

"Don't you give your prisoners any courtesy?" he spat when the cage touched the floor with a muted clang. "How the heck do you stand this blankness?" Castle Oblivion, despite its eerie title, consisted of stark white, featureless rooms repeated endlessly. Rumors of synthesizing a complete world inside these vacant chambers ran rampant; however, Vanitas had yet to witness the dreary lounge transforming into the opulent offices which characterized Organization XIII in Los Angeles. "It's just white, doesn't it bother you?"

They forced him to climb endless flights of stairs, hovering in a chasm of indigo. The stairs were alabaster, carved with intricate runes. When he reached the top and begged for a glass of water, Vanitas wondered what he did here, amidst strangers with vacuous faces and no emotions. How long did they keep him locked in the cage? A month blurred by while he swung and scraped his vocal cords bitter with profanity.

Keeping clear of the barrier, Xemnas crossed his arms and Luxord undid the magical locks on the cage. Warily approaching the temperamental keyblade wielder, Xigbar undid the physical latch and teleported to safety, arrow guns drawn in one smooth motion. The gate swung violently apart and Vanitas emerged like a cornered animal, head swiveling left and right, assessing threats. Blood oozed from the raw wounds on his wrist.

A blur of black and crimson and the Black Saint slammed into Luxord, sending the blonde careering backwards. Void Gear in hand, he stormed past the superior and slashed the barrier. Lightning crackled, drowning the lounge in a deafening din. Weaving through several arrow gun projectiles, Vanitas hurled himself at Xigbar, the teeth of his blade ripping the coat apart.

The Organization member teleported.

Che.

Spinning on his heel, he charged for Xemnas, standing serenely while Luxord attempted to herd the explosive prisoner back into the confines of the barrier. The superior smiled at the darkness dripping like rain and the Black Saint abruptly changed direction in midstride, catching Xigbar's arm when he reappeared. Gravity distorted and Vanitas flung his opponent who crashed into a stone couch, blasting it apart.

Void Gear struck a barrier. A row of flashing cards assaulted Vanitas and ripped through his suit. Waves of inky darkness repaired the damage instantaneously and he threw his weapon. It cut across the room, hammering Luxord on his head before dematerializing in a flash of purple flames. Without wasting a heartbeat, Vanitas summoned another Keyblade and vaulting over the sluggishly stirring form of Luxord, buried the spiky end of Two become One in Xigbar's thigh.

"Ahahaha!" he laughed, golden irises blazing in mirthful fury. "My brother is probably getting an ulcer worrying about me and it's all your fault." A venom purple arrow grazed his cheek and he irritably wiped the blood on his shoulder before stabbing Xigbar in the abdomen. "The KBWA fixed you good," Vanitas taunted, firing a triple blizzaga over his shoulder. Xemnas and Luxord escaped the homing chunks of ice and a ring of flickering fira surrounded Xigbar, trapped between Vanitas' legs. "I wonder if Sora had breakfast," he mused and sliced open an arm, blood sprayed the air. "He hardly takes his pills unless I force him to." A tendril of flame sizzled the end of Xigbar's hair. "The scars on his chest will never heal," Vanitas growled. "Do you know what you did to him?" he twisted the blade in Xigbar's calf and grinned, "it's a giant cross.

"It's ugly. I hate it. It's like a sacrificial sigil for some demonic cult. You!" he screeched when Luxord kicked him. Vanitas whacked against the wall, the air driven out of his lungs. "You will pay," he spat, licking blood off his lips. A metal guard formed under his chin, the fluid darkness molded into a helmet. "I'm going to make sure you live as a cripple your entire life, cursing me with every breath because dying is a merciful option for you!" He dodged several arrows aiming for his head and chest.

Supported by Luxord, Xigbar blinked blood and sweat out of his eyes. "I can't feel my legs." He indicated the dozen stab wounds peppering his coat. "This is why I said letting him out is a bad... where did he go?" Xigbar tensed and abruptly teleported when Vanitas blinked into existence dangerously close, his Keyblade wreathed in darkness.

Petals of velvet darkness flitted to the floor. He assaulted Luxord with a series of blows and not proficient in close combat, the member backtracked, wrinkling his nose at the stench of sick flowers. Their superior simply watched, eyes narrowed in pleasure. Strange. Xigbar limped past him to safety, leaving Luxord to deal with the Black Saint alone.

A sharp pain welled from his chest till his abdomen. Pearls of blood sprang from the cut. Luxord wheezed when Vanitas knotted his legs around his throat. Reports stated the Black Saint was under training, from the way he fought, Luxord gripped a blade thin card and sliced Vanitas' leg, anyone would believe he served the Association as a veteran member.

The KBWA operative tightened his hold. Using the Keyblade as leverage, he slammed Luxord to the ground, spiky with frost and rapidly forming icicles. The spears pierced Luxord in a dozen places and Vanitas sprang apart with predator's grace.

He targeted the inscrutable superior.

"To think I actually believed you to be decent," the young man barked, weapon lowered. "My boss had a measure of respect for you." The leering smile slid off Xemnas' face and Vanitas stalked closer. "What do you want with me? What do you want with Sora?"

Clashing emotion flitted across Xemnas' mien. "The King is in the way of our goals," he informed. "Deal with him," the superior commanded and sedately strolled out of the Grey area.

Swearing, Vanitas rushed after him, a dark orb of fire on the tip of his Keyblade. A pillar of light drenched him and he tumbled to the ground, helmet protecting him from splitting his skull open. He shakily got to his feet and narrowly dodged another fulgent column of light. The magic skewered through his right arm and he swallowed a howl of pain.

Cradling a jewel encrusted Lexicon, Zexion looked down on Vanitas. "Cease your futile struggling." He adjusted his gunmetal grey glasses. "Even if our members allow you to leave, you will never make it out of Castle Oblivion. This place will rob you of your memories before you make it out of the door." He scribbled on a corner of his lexicon page and frowned thoughtfully.

Springing up, Vanitas scored a cut on Zexion's cheek. The nobody faltered backwards. "You can use light magic; interesting," the Black Saint jeered. "Get out of my way, brat," he fumed. "I have a score to-" He gasped in pain when a card buried in his back. Vanitas buckled under a dozen sharp edged cards biting into his skin.

He whirled around and the pages of a book fluttered in his face. Petals of darkness smothered him and he parried furiously, the series of strikes a mirror image of his own.

What the heck?

"It's a mistake to turn your back on an opponent," Zexion said.

An avalanche of pages soared out of his Lexicon and buffered Vanitas' infuriated swings. The prisoner teleported to attack from a different angle and grunted in pain when light lashed him. He slashed through the pages. Scraps of paper stuck to his cheeks and suit and forced its way into his mouth, burning like fire, like acid. Text and symbols flashed before his eyes. A rune lifted from a page and bound Vanitas, he struggled in the amber binds, thrashing like a fish on dry land.

His suit spiked and cut through the bonds. Free at last, he summoned Two Become One and thundered after Zexion.

A portal yawned open in the lounge and Vanitas careered furiously, he'll mow down any reinforcements.

"Be careful who you point your sword at," Zexion teased and stepped aside.

Sky blue eyes widened in panic. "Vanitas," Sora whimpered, the color draining from his tan face. "Wait… Wait… please don't hurt me."

He tried desperately to stop. He really did.

But the weapon descended, propelled by momentum, and cut through. Vanitas let his Keyblade go, reaching for his brother. He screamed. Hands shaking, nausea clawing his throat. Blood speckled his helmet and Sora fell forward.

The body landed in his arms, feather light and Vanitas dropped to the floor, kneecaps crashing painfully against the tiles.

03:15 a.m.

Los Angeles

Sunshine Coliseum

The arrival of police prompted Sora to scramble off Demyx. He stared daggers at an officer leading the idol away in handcuffs. Neon yellow crime scene tape wrapped around the park, visible through the trunks of trees and zigzagging through fences. The skin of Demyx's throat morphed into a dark blue bruise and he slid in the cop car without a fuss.

"I didn't do it," he appealed. "You have to trust me, my fans are my everything. I would never think of murdering them."

Shut up! Sora dug his nails into his palms, controlling the overwhelming urge to wring the idol's neck on the spot. You helped Organization XIII kidnap my brother. I'm going to put you behind bars, rot there for all eternity!

The car pulled away, engine humming gently. Athena hugged Sora's shoulders and he hung his head, zoning out on the splinters of mirrored glass the floor.

His somber reflection glared back at him from a thousand fragments.

"Come on, let's visit Trucy," she suggested and he twitched. "We'll investigate afterwards. Your hands," she pried his fingers apart, crescent shapes impressed on his skin and she brushed a thumb across them, "are bleeding." He angrily toed a piece of glass. "I think Demyx is telling the truth."

The junior associate gnarled darkly under his breath, "No he's not." Cold sunshine bathed the mourners congregating in the park. The trees wept crinkled leaves. "I know Demyx has something to do with those murders." He pulled out an earpiece from his pocket and uncoiled the wires. "This is his," Sora explained while he and Athena crossed the grassy field. "It's weird how he's not using Level 9 technology. This is a standard earphone he used while doing the concert, do you mind if I borrow your music player?"

Music, interrupted by bursts of interference bled in Sora's ears. Scowling at the mediocre sound quality, he wiggled the wires. His co-worker grimaced. "Ach, I can't believe he used such faulty equipment," she exclaimed. "If Gavin's earpiece was like this, he'd raise the roof with his complaints."

Why is his equipment malfunctioning?

In brighter spirits, Trucy bounced over from under the shade of a bare branched maple tree. The cold brought a rosy flush to her cheeks and Sora eyed her glove longingly. "You look terrible," she bluntly said. Athena moved away to confer with Apollo. "I'm sorry about Vanitas," she murmured and slipped her warm glove on Sora's hand. "You need to be strong for him, he's depending on you to realize the truth about the case isn't he?"

The truth... "Organization XIII is responsible for those murders... or... or involved with them," Sora stubbornly declared. Blades of grass swished in the wind. The cold corkscrewed into his bones, the blood in his veins crusted to ice. He wanted Vanitas close. His brother was a constant, reassuring presence in his life. "I'm scared," he tucked his chin into his scarf, "I'm afraid they will change him into someone I don't know."

"Mr. Wright asked you to meet the Detective at the stands," Apollo informed. "He wants you to collect the Autopsy report."

Miserable, Sora shuffled across the park with Trucy trudging along in her fur lined boots. "Won't Vanitas get mad because you're underestimating him?" she prompted, a finger to her chin. "He's really strong isn't he?" Sora agreed, a hint of pride in his smile. "He'll be insulted because you think he can't handle himself." The terrain changed from tough, withered grass to concrete. Blood stained sections of the audience stand. "I'm not going to tell you not to worry," Trucy climbed the steps, "but have a little more faith in him, won't you?"

The Detective stood at the front row, scribbling in his notepad with a blunt pencil. "Here, the report pal." He handed over a manila envelope without fuss. "We don't know what killed them," he confessed. "The reports don't make sense."

A stack of papers slid out.

"And by the way, in case no one bothered to inform you," Gumshoe scratched the back of his head as if in apology, "Mr. Edgeworth will be taking the bench."

Excellent. Sora smiled grimly. I'll get the guilty verdict in the first five minutes.

The first victim's organs were reduced into a fleshy, organ pulp. Trucy gasped in horror, tugging the hem of her glove. The next few suffered from perforated eardrums and partial, organ malfunction. Sora sifted through the reports, all of the deceased victims had one thing in common, extreme hemorrhage and some extent of organ failure. He dimly recalled the blood leaking from his nose.

The scarlet staining his fingers.

"I threw up blood a little later on," Trucy whispered. Forensic teams in white suits scoured the area. She rubbed a reddish stain on her bodice. "What do you think about the cause of death?" she queried. "It's weird how it affected everyone. Check here," in her usual brusque manner, she dragged Sora to the front row railing, "here," she scuffed the ground with her shoe. "Remember how a girl collapsed and Vanitas gave her a creamy green liquid, a-"

"Potion," Sora supplied.

"Potion." Trucy reiterated. "She's at the hospital in critical condition at the moment." She ducked under the second row rails, searching for telltale stains. "If she wakes up, you can ask her about Vanitas. She's probably one of the last people who saw him."

Distracted by the remains of an electronic device on the ground, Sora hummed in agreement and picked the silvers of plastic. "Level 9," he mumbled, tips of his fingers finding the engraved insignia on every piece of Org XIII merch. "Who wore this?"

Wheezing for air the moment Sora let go, Demyx related, "Organization XIII told me to go ahead with the collaboration concert." His throat ached. "I've been planning it for a long time and it's a dream of mine to do a stage with Klavier." Sweat plastered his hair and he wriggled uncomfortably under Sora who refused to get off his chest. "Originally, the concert functioned as an elaborate cover for the kidnapping of - don't shoot!" Demyx pleaded when hands reached for his neck. "But after they left for Castle Oblivion and I terminated my contract, they didn't ask me for the concert details. I don't even know how they got the time and date right because I didn't give it to them."

So, Sora placed the broken earplugs in a plastic bag, Demyx has no idea what Organization XIII planned. Vanitas is most likely at this place called Castle Oblivion... I have to inform the KBWA. Instantly, he fired a text message to the Association and held his breath for a reply.

One minute passed.

And another.

Five... ten... fifteen minutes.

Furiously tucking his phone away, he rose with a groan, calf muscles aching. Trucy completed a circuit of the stands and returned, her hair windblown. She enquired with the forensic scientists and Sora eavesdropped.

"We are honestly baffled as to what caused such random and sudden deaths," the lead investigator shrugged helplessly. "There are no traces of radiation, or bio-weaponry. A virus or bacteria would contaminate the air but it's clean." She indicated the stage. "The chemicals used in the fireworks are all safe, the confetti is not poisoned," the woman added with a wry smile. "We checked the DNA samples of the victims to find if there they have any particular susceptibility, but came up with nothing."

Safely away from the busy knot of people, Sora noted the information down, chewing thoughtfully on his pen.

The feather light body vanished and Vanitas blinked, numbed by shock. He raised his head to Zexion for an explanation, too scared to be angry at the nobody's sadistic smile. "Sora?" Vanitas prompted, a tear streaking through the blood drying on his cheek. "Is there any way to... to," the words stuck in his throat, "to heal him?"

"Don't be foolish." Zexion recalled Lexicon and the pages fluttered back into the book. The Black Saint gazed lifelessly at his blood stained hands and desperately wiped them on his suit. A sob. "Your brother is safe at Los Angeles."

An illusion.

Although, the sheer fright the illusion exuded wrapped like a thorny vice around Vanitas. How could he? How could he shred through his brother like that? What if it was the real Sora?

I'll hang myself afterwards.

"Oh..." He exhaled, the fight whirl-pooling out of him. "Oh, thanks..." He wiped his mouth. "You scared me." Vanitas pulled to his feet and rubbed his eyes, swimming with unshed tears. "You guys have an infirmary?" He peeled the suit off, revealing a black shirt with orange stripes. "Luxord stabbed my back several times, I feel like a hedgehog," he complained listlessly. "A potion's good too."

Privately amused by the way the Black Saint became putty in his hands, Zexion marched out. "The dusks are our servants," he motioned to a white alien-esque creature with a zipper mouth, "if you need anything, ask them." A dusk swept the hallway and hummed in odd shrieks. "Our infirmary doesn't have beds. We have plenty of elixirs and potions though," Zexion explained while Vanitas blindly followed him through twisting corridors. "The superior demands an audience with you after you are patched up." The nobody held a door open, asymmetrical bangs covered one side of his face and he tucked them behind his ear. "Will you see him?"

Twisting the cap off an elixir, Vanitas gulped the golden liquid. "I'll do whatever you want," he muttered. The infirmary differed from the grey lounge only by the exclusion of stone couches. "Just please," he gripped the glass bottle tightly, "don't involve Sora in this."

His wounds knitted, gaps in the muscles and skin stitching together. Itching. Weary numbness dragged Vanitas' limbs and smoothing his shirt; he accompanied Zexion through identical corridors and halted before the chief's office.

The bitterness in his mouth refused to fade.

Mine

Late morning

Castle Oblivion

The Black Saint stared straight into his eyes as Xemnas ran a thumb across Vanitas' bottom lip. Bruises, purple and dusky red, flowered across his pale skin, sickly under the floodlights of the chamber.

"Don't touch me," Clavius croaked but made no effort to push away the fingers trailing goosebumps down his sternum and ribs. "Perverted old fart," he swore, golden irises taking on a vengeful gleam. "Give my clothes back!"

Xehanort laughed, hoarse voice mocking; wrinkles creasing the edges of his eyes. "You have faults I need to correct." A tendril of darkness cocooned his hand and promptly retracted, hissing and gluing itself loving over Vanitas. "You have a healthy body," Xemnas rasped. "You should take care of it."

Curling protectively, Vanitas gritted his teeth when Xemnas kneaded a palm on his back. "I said don't touch me!" he snarled. "My body hurts from all the fighting." He turned his face away, shuddering at the contact.

The superior gently pressed the glistening wounds. "Did you take an elixir?" he demanded and Vanitas obstinately refused to reply. A scintilla of emotion flitted across his silver brow and he retrieved a potion from the folds of his coat. "Drink," he offered the bottle to Vanitas who knocked it aside. "Pertinacious are you?" Xehanort growled. "Not to worry." Vanitas shivered when Xemnas leaned closer, hands firmly wrapping around his shoulder. "I will keep you close. You are mine."

A/N: I enjoyed making Xehanort creepy. The grandpa needs to have the potential to make people feel sick to the bone the moment they see him. Writing an out-of-control Sora was also strangely therapeutic.

Once again, please read and review. Help Vanitas survive the imprisonment at Castle Oblivion.