An invasion of light

The phone on the lemon yellow couch beeped with a message:

Meeting with the KBWA at 14:00

Passing, Athena swiftly dismissed the message from the lock-screen and settled behind her desk. A chill seeped inside the office and buttoning her duffle coat, she longingly stared outside the windows, to the overcast sky beyond and sipped piping hot coffee from a silver thermos.

The lump on the sofa moved with a groan. Apollo marched in, footsteps loud enough to wake the dead. With an expert flick of his wrist, he tore the blanket off Sora who huddled underneath like a homeless person.

"Wake up!" the senior attorney snapped and Athena frowned in sympathy. "When last were you at home?" he demanded and squeezed next to the junior associate, "and when last did you eat?" His voice ricocheted off the abstract, silver gilt paintings on the walls. "Trucy told me you didn't eat the soup yesterday. Cake isn't going give you the nutrients you need," he lectured.

Scratching the bristles erupting along his jawline, Sora relaxed, the familiar caught-in-the-headlights expression dissolving. "I wonder what Vanitas is eating," he mumbled and his phone pinged again. "Another meeting with the KBWA." Sora wondered if his senior would mind very much if he leaned on him. "I'm tired of meetings." Deciding the older man won't mind, he flopped on Apollo. "They talk in circles and the chief listens till the debates get out of hand. Then she slams her fist on the table and it cracks. So far," Sora recalled two weeks of grueling meetings, "she broke three and they are all marble. I never want her knuckles meeting my face."

The cold gnawed his bones. He pulled the crimson blanket tighter around his neck and blinked gratefully when Athena turned on the heater.

Sailing in with the tea cart, Trucy bumped it to a stop in front of the couch. Cups of tea steamed alongside pastel iced cakes and an assortment of scones. Bowls of noodle soup rattled adjacently to platters of rice and steamed fish. Silk cape fluttering, Trucy cleared a space on Athena's desk by strong sweeping all the documents aside and plopping a bowl of breakfast before the red-headed attorney.

Muttering a prayer in French and German, Athena dug in, awkwardly maneuvering with chopsticks.

While Trucy bickered good-naturedly with Apollo and shouted a greeting to her Daddy who happened to pass by the office, brick phone in hand, Sora reached for a slice of cake and scowled when Apollo slapped his hand away.

"Breakfast," the senior growled, fringe sharpened to stabbing point. "You hadn't eaten proper food in the last 48 hours."

He's counting?

Petulantly stirring the seaweed in his soup, Sora listened to Trucy regale the events of the previous day. Mystics Pearl and Maya spent increasing amounts of time at the Keyblade Wielder's Association. The newly sworn in vice-chief introduced reforms which exasperated the chief; and the Association dealt with the aftermath of the battle, partnering with the government to include protection barriers around key buildings.

The soup tasted salty and after a few spoonsful, he returned it to the cart. Timidly ignoring a side-glare from Apollo, Sora nibbled on a scone. "Yesterday, they buried the last of the casualties." His somber statement injected sadness in the otherwise laid-back conversation. "A boy by the name of Tidus... apparently he came from Destiny Islands. The chief buried him herself." He played with his fingers. "His friends cried their eyes out." Drawing a line across his neck, Sora added, "His head and body were separated... he's only thirteen years old."

Finishing his meal, Apollo solemnly placed the plate back on the tea cart. He exhaled at the unfinished soup.

Not brave enough to reach for a slice of vanilla cake under Apollo's hazel eyed scrutiny, Sora rested his head on Trucy's shoulder, half waiting for a shriek. When no admonishing mantras poured forth, he closed his eyes. "I didn't," he yawned tiredly, "I didn't get much sleep last night," he confessed, comfort heating his cheeks when Trucy laced her hand with his. "My neck hurts," Sora complained. "I think I'll sleep till the meeting."

"I told you to come to my apartment." Apollo attacked a cake with a fork. "You can stay there as long as you like." Fluffy cream melted on his tongue and he stuffed half a slice in his mouth and chewed appreciatively.

"I don't... I don't want to intrude," Sora slurred.

"It's not intruding when I invite you!" Apollo agitatedly exclaimed. "Mr. Wright is worried about you spending the night in the agency, we all are." He received a languid smile from his junior. "How is-"

"Shhh…" Trucy whispered. "He's asleep."

She pressed her cheek against Sora's forehead and Apollo smiled wryly. For someone who bristled like a hedgehog when first touched, Sora sure grew comfortable around them. Maybe too comfortable. Did he have feelings for Trucy?

"No," she replied. Her top hat slipped from chestnut hair and she fluidly caught it before carefully placing it on the couch. "It' doesn't matter does it?" she grinned like the sun. "Everyone is different and there are different kinds of feelings," Trucy intoned sagely while Athena eavesdropped.

Rising from the couch, Apollo disagreed. "It does matter," he muttered. Trucy's happiness is the one thing he will fight to the death for.

01:00 p.m.

Wright and Co. Lawyer's agency

Athena's office

I'll be late for the meeting.

I didn't feed cookies to my assistant, I hope he isn't deleting those files I worked hard on.

Trucy smelled of cake. Sora rubbed his eye with one fist, careful not to move.

He's probably screaming for attention. Urk, my stomach's churning.

Somehow, she ended up sleeping in the crook of his neck, her arm threaded with his. For a split, terrified second, Sora froze, what's Mr. Wright gonna think? She snored like a cute lawnmower, a star-spangled rainbow blanket around her shoulders. Thoughts galloping too fast for his sleep addled brain, Sora thought about Vanitas. He'd be perfectly at ease, probably gently helping Trucy on his lap and stroking her hair.

Why can't I feel anything?

Nudging her awake, he stretched, stiff joints protesting at movement. "I need to report in to the KBWA," he informed, scraping his chin on his shoulder. "Do I look bad? I don't think I have time to shave... the KBWA saw me like this already," Sora reasoned. "Who cares if I go in like a hobo? I'm only there because they asked me to go," he ranted and headed out the door, dragging his feet behind.

"Make sure you get changed," Trucy called after him, forehead scrunched in worry. "Your clothes returned from the laund-"

"He'll be alright," Athena cut in and removed her headphones. "Will you help me with my work?" she asked and nodded to a chair. Trucy bounced over. "It's not a mess!" she defiantly stated. "Ach... most of the things are in the library."

Indexing her files, Trucy placed them in a corner of the spacious desk. "You've been drowning yourself in work lately," she commented and Athena turned the music volume lower. Everyone was on edge since the fight. Prosecutor Gavin gained the second sight and moaned about it to Apollo like he contracted an incurable disease. "Is everything okay?"

Drinking a swig of coffee from her now tepid flask, Athena pulled her chair closer to Trucy. "I'm worried about Simon," she confided. "He opened a little restaurant but he and Taka keep on scaring the customers away and now he's depressed," she sighed. "I know it's trivial... but... it's bothering him more than he lets on. He thinks his past is keeping people away."

Trucy pumped a fist to the air, her diamond earring swinging. "We must show support!" she declared and Athena broke into a wide smile, infected by the exuberance. "Every one of us should march in and promote him and he can pays us with free soba noodles!" Trucy giggled and Athena joined in.

"I can imagine Sora, shaking at the door and refusing to go in," Athena chuckled. "We should definitely go."

In Apollo's office, Sora dutifully watered the luscious white flowers in a crystal vase. He always wondered where his senior got these. Did Klavier give them to him?

"No," Justice answered and the younger man jumped, spooked. "I can feel you thinking about the glimmerous fop," he scathingly explained. "I get them from my... my foster brother." He uncomfortably fixed his tie.

Why do I learn new things about senior Apollo every day? First I find out he's got a girlfriend. Now, a foster brother. What next? Trucy turns out to be his half-sister? Sora touched the petals contemplatively, the silken softness calmed him. "I'd like to meet your foster brother one day," he earnestly stated, surprising himself. "If he err... uh... wants to see me." He checked on Apollo the cactus on the mantelpiece. Yep, thorny as ever, like it's owner. "You don't have a picture of him?"

"No."

You sir, are a horrible foster brother.

"Are you two not on speaking terms or..." Sora trailed off, sensing a dangerous spike in the senior's unease.

Leaning in his swivel chair and vowing for the thousandth time to remove the smirking, larger than life poster tacked above his mantelpiece, Apollo rotated his bangle. "He's a prosecutor," Justice mused. "We had our differences in the past and he's invited me to visit him in the Kingdom of - wait," he jerked upright, "don't you have a meeting to get ready for?"

Forty-five minutes later, a taxi cab deposited Sora at the plain, electric wire and camera wreathed gates of the KBWA.

The brilliant, orange peak of Mount Olympus surfaced and drowned in pregnant clouds. Trudging across the short path snaking through a religiously maintained lawn, Sora shivered in a thin cotton cardigan. The glass doors automatically slid apart and a faint aroma of burgers wafted through the lobby, decked in mellow pools of warm, amber light. Sliding his devices on a tray at the inner gate, Sora acknowledged Belle before lumbering towards the elevator. He entered the mirrored box and shrunk in a corner.

Emerging in the chaotic control chamber, he groaned. The boardroom's transparent walls turned opaque, suggesting the meeting underway. A Low-tier sentinel perked energetically and wrestled the door open when Sora approached.

"Thanks," he muttered and the operative nearly swooned.

No sooner did he enter, and Donald whaled on him. "You're late!" the court magician quaked furiously. "We are discussing invasion tactics and your tardy arrival inconvenienced every-"

"Ahyuck." Goofy drew out a seat. "Sit down." He patted the chair. "Donald, the meeting is remusing... err... resuming."

Apologetically bowing to the fuming duck, Sora collapsed in a chair. The resident Keyblade wielders lined one side of the table, with the chief and vice-chief at the head. He smiled at Pearl who straightened her magatama and paid attention as Tifa began speaking.

The mural of an old fashioned town with cobblestone streets and iron lamps changed to show schematics.

Same of the portrait hung behind Lockhart, which depicted the Elementals in full armor. Pointing to the blueprints of what appeared to be a labyrinth, the chief related, "Castle Oblivion is an enigma, there are no known maps of it and what we see here is a corruption of the blueprints of the Land of Departure, kindly supplied by Master Aqua." A low murmur of voices swept across the table. "Further adjustments were made with knowledge gathered from other sources," attention swiveled to Lea and Isa, "and we now have this." Tifa gestured to the map. "There is an area which serves as a lounge and most of the rooms are pristine white. These rooms can be modified with the usage of a world card, but the main point here is," she knocked her fist lightly on the table, effectively waking a dozing Sora, "we could all get lost once we set foot in there.

"Our top priority is extracting Vanitas." This statement caused Sora to sit ramrod straight, followed by Donald and Goofy. "This is essentially a rescue operation." The chief paused.

Palms flat on the table, Sora gritted his teeth. "Rescue?" he squeaked, intimidated by the battle hardened gazes on him. "Why couldn't you rescue him earlier? He's gone! He left of his own volition because he thinks the KBWA doesn't care for him!" Sora slammed his hand on the marble top. "You are using him! The nobodies are using him. Every... everyone is using him!" he spat, tone hoarse and bitter.

Maya opened her mouth but the chief shook her head. "We have to make difficult decisions but it doesn't mean we justify our actions as right." Stars swam in Maya's ponderous gaze. Fey forever appeared to be lost in her own world. She stood up, geta sandals bolstering her height. "Storming Castle Oblivion will be done in teams. The main team will be Sora, flanked by the other keyblade wielders serving as his knights. We'll do a surprise attack," the vice-chief grew animated, her magatama necklace glittering, "like BAM! They'll never see it-"

"Right," Lockhart interjected. "Let's be practical. First, like the vice chief mentioned, stealth is of paramount importance. However, the King is unable to use dark corridors..."

Shrinking in his seat, Sora's mind tossed and turned, a tempestuous storm. Elation swelled in his chest, the KBWA finally mobilized, but at the same time, anxious butterflies rammed his stomach. What if things went wrong? What if the creepy old man irrecoverably corrupted Vanitas?

Will Vanitas accept the KBWA wanting to help him?

"...Therefore he will go alone in an auto-piloted gummi ship," Tifa continued. Sora zoned back to her strategy and paled. "The rest of his guards will meet with him after he lands on Castle Oblivion." The image of the blueprints pixelated and sharpened to a picture of a sandstone castle capped with turquoise turrets. "From afar, the micro-planet has only one distinguishing feature, and this is this Castle." Lockhart tapped the screen. "Once you enter through the doors, you may lose track of time and space and your memories," the chief warned. "The layout of the castle is forever changing. We should also count on the nobodies anticipating our arrival."

Sora's kneaded his temples, a discussion unfolded around the table. The High-tiers nitpicked details and offered suggestions while a retinue of the Mid-tiers divided tasks among themselves. Overwhelmed by the tidal wave of words constantly crashing over him, Sora grabbed the edge of the table. He fisted his scarf, desperately warding off a panic attack through stubborn determination.

I'm drowning.

It's dark. I can't breathe.

A black and oily sea, its wavelets crested with a sickly golden light bleeding from a heart shaped moon. On the slimy, pebbly beach, Sora tried to stem the blackish blood bleeding from a large cross marring the teenager's chest. His scars, which long stopped prickling, seared with a burning pain and he scrambled back from Roxas.

Normally the dream ended there.

Today, it played on and Sora clapped a hand over his mouth. The taste of copper soured the back of his throat. White feathers drifted in the periphery of his vision. The calming scent of jasmine. A paper bag thrust before his face.

The clone stared at him with dull eyes before his features shifted and he smiled the angelic smile of Ventus. The boy got up and wiped his wounds. Behind them, the sea churned and reached for the sky and a chasm opened at Sora's feet. He lifted a leg when a thousand baubles of light filtered from the fissure and popped, each ball a memory.

Sora breathed in the bag, cold droplets of sweat rolled down his forehead. Someone held his shaking shoulders and he twisted, uncomfortable by the crush of people around him. The group collectively withdrew when a flash of bright light lit Sora's clammy palm and Kingdom Key emerged. A glittering crown perched on the side of his unruly hair and gasping, he politely declined a potion from Goofy.

"So- sorry. I got… I became overwhelmed," he apologized after returning to a trip from the bathroom, face splashed with cold water. "I mastered all of my wide area spells," Sora declared, worrying when he garnered obliged glances from the important group around the table. "Isn't..." he cleared his throat, "isn't the Elementals joining in on the attack? Or, his Majesty, King Mickey?"

His question met with heavy silence.

Reviewing the draft groups Maya drew up, Tifa delicately responded, "His Majesty's interest lies in the preservation of the inter-stellar community." She lifted her chin, surprised when Sora did not retort back. "Same with the Elementals." She tensed for a barbed comment, despite his unassuming stature, the brown haired Clavius spat acid when the situation warranted it. "They will not be joining the battle. The Los Angeles KBWA has enough resources to mount an invasion on their own, not to mention we are getting phenomenal support from other branches."

The King simply nodded.

Strange, Tifa slumped into her chair, if Vanitas were here, he'd scream Leon's ear off. We don't know the King nearly as much as his brother.

He doesn't trust us.

A new image slid onscreen. "These are the proposed teams," Lockhart briskly stated and wheeled aside when the operatives craned their neck to read. "The King will be accompanied by Donald and Goofy. Your previous charge," she addressed the court mage and leader of the knights respectively, "instructed you to take care of his brother. You will do so," Tifa ordered and they bopped their head submissively. "Riku will act as the King's personal companion. You have a lot of expertise in such areas." The Grey Knight formally agreed, the High-tier medal on his jacket gleaming. "Lea, you will-"

"Stick close to Isa," he cheekily replied. "Got it."

His attempt to cheer his perpetually grumpy friend failed. Isa's cyan eyebrows knitted together, further emphasizing his frown.

"You were supposed to safeguard Sora," Maya insisted. "Stop disrupting the world order!"

"How am I supposed guard the King when I can barely guard myself?" Lea sprang from his chair, a dark, ankle length coat flattering his figure. He stood out like a candle flame in the dimply illuminated chamber. "His majesty is taking point, he can't do that when he has to constantly worry. Besides," he added, "I might accidentally set him on fire." Lea winked at Maya. "I'm still under training, got it memorized?" He drew a finger to his temple.

I wish I was half as awesome as him.

The vice-chief pouted, she fired back arguments of her own and impressed, Lea defended himself.

And now they're bickering.

Unimpressed, Isa snatched the sheet and read it with Cloud hovering at his shoulder. "The King and his entourage, along with the Grey Knight will be enough as a free standing unit," he recommended. "Also, I'm in the firm belief Clavius will turn as soon as he sees the King." Several association members agreed. Tifa and Pearl nodded. "If he doesn't, I'll swallow my Claymore."

"Don't!" Lea and Lockhart protested. The former smoothly returned to countering Maya's inane arguments.

I wonder... true, Vanitas will fight alongside me, but I'd do the same for him. Oh my God! Sora anxiously pulled his crown necklace, what am I thinking? Betraying the KBWA for Vanitas? Isn't Organization XIII the greater of the two evils?

An image of Ventus, irises stained an abhorrent gold, flashed in his mind.

The door opened violently and in a moment of rage, Xemnas blasted it apart with his ethereal blades. Chips of stone rained inside the chamber and pieces bounced off Vanitas' helmet. Kicking the debris, the Black Saint stalked in, clutching his bleeding side.

"It hurts," he resentfully whined. "I'm bleeding from yesterday's wounds." He slammed a bloody fist on the desk, leaving a botched print on the surface. "This morning I woke up to some weird pinkish, purple castle world, I'll tear Zexion's head off!" Vanitas growled. "And tell Larxene to stop using me for target practice or I'll shave her bald."

Regretting the demolition of his door, the superior discreetly turned up the white noise in his Level 9 earphones while Vanitas ranted his domed helm off. Once exhausted, he slunk to a throne-like chair, permanently installed in the office for his use.

"It would do you good if you did not agitate your comrades," Xemnas droned and removed the earphones. He did not wish to deal with the Black Saint's childishness on a daily basis, but alas. "Some of them will be pleased to get rid of you."

"Hah, sucks to be them, I'm staying." Vanitas leaned against the intricately engraved headboard. "My helmet. I think I'm bleeding from my face... or more of my face is turning into that smoky outer space thing." His fingers scrabbled under the metal chin guard. "Can you help me?" he pleaded.

Reading a final report on the different natures of darkness, Xemnas pulled to his feet, knee joints aching. "Cease being a pest," he loftily ordered. "You are capable of taking care of yourself, why do you insist on coming here?"

"Huuuh?" exaggeratedly leaning out of the chair, Vanitas sneered, effect lost behind reflective glass. "This is coming from the same perverted fart who kept touching me after I took off my clothes." A disgusted iota of emotion crossed Xemnas' mien. "Are there two of you in one body?" he probed. "Want to see me naked?" Vanitas joked and instantly regretted his statement when the Xemnas' eyes blazed.

"Silence." The command corkscrewed in Vanitas' ears and he froze, recoiling when Xemnas roughly yanked the helmet off. The boy missed half a face. Where skin and bone once gave him a semblance of symmetry, now a nebulous, space purple cosmos pulsed. Fright glistened in his single eye and Xemnas forcibly grabbed the remains of Vanitas' chin. "There is nothing wrong with you," he exhaled, expression involuntarily softening. Xemnas wrestled with emotions. Lately they flared, from painful longing to seething anger and despair.

Two days ago, he hunted through his personal belongings for a photograph of Roxas, smoldering when he remembered leaving it behind in Los Angeles.

Saix's betrayal pierced him like a thorn.

Surely she would never betray me?

He kept a subtle watch over the rest of the nobodies and often found himself worrying about their wellbeing. Worry? Xehanort did not have time to waste on worrying, only the boy in front of him...

Only the boy in front of him mattered.

The velvet darkness. Such pure power, raw and unbridled, waiting to be released. A being spun entirely of darkness and a body suited to withstand...

The body...

"I know I look good," Vanitas piped, a boyish half-grin on his half-face. "I'm not flattered when you stare at me though. Now if it was some chick," he leaned in closer, smile spreading till it blinded Xemnas, "I think I'd be happy. Not Larxene," he quickly added, "she's a damn harpy. You know," Vanitas blathered as he was prone to do when he had no other job either than irritating Xemnas, "once my brother got to high school, he became really popular with the girls. On Valentine's Day... you do know what Valentine's Day is, right?"

Absentmindedly petting the Black Saint's surprisingly soft hair, Xemnas droned, "Humor me."

"It's a day when girls give obligatory chocolate to friends or loved ones. And Sora's locker used to be stuffed. I bet he had an entire shop's worth full of chocolate and letters raining on him when he opened it." Vanitas wiggled, seemingly forgetting the oozing wound under his ribs. "We used to eat them together till we got sick," he laughed, the notes floating in the stale air of the office. "Old man," he continued blithely, "is Ventus special to you?"

The golden haired boy whom he tried to kill on the plains of the Keyblade Graveyard over a century ago.

"No," Xemnas replied unfeelingly. "He stands in the way of my... my..." A sharp, stabbing pain erupted under his left ribs and he gasped. The iron taint of blood clawed the back of his throat.

Void Gear gleamed in Vanitas' hand. The teeth end went through the nobody's ribs.

Xehanort staggered backwards, a flush of heat searing through his body. Sweat collected on his forehead and palms, the front of his coat stiffened with blood. Groggily eyeing the dripping Keyblade and the devilishly smirking Vanitas advancing on him, Xemnas summoned his weapon.

Traitor! For some reason, he could not bring himself to say it out loud.

"You will regret doing what you did to me boy," the old man rasped, blood specked spittle flying from his mouth. He reveled in the acute, telltale signs of fear the brat tried to smother. "Do you think you can win against me? Alone? In my stronghold?" he taunted. Vanitas' knuckles tightened on the hilt of the Keyblade. "I will possess you and make you watch while I kill the King."

The Black Saint ground to a halt. Muddy fluid churned at his boots and spilled across the embossed tiles, spreading like a viscid, ebony plague.

He petrified before the old man whose presence sucked him in like an all-encompassing black hole. Vanitas trembled. Xemnas... Xehanort? wheezed, one gnarled hand around the Gazing Eye in a lose grip. Time wrinkled the skin around the corners of his eyes and mouth. Move god dammit! Vanitas cursed himself but a paralyzing fear robbed him of courage and the ability to breath. He hyperventilated, the pit of his stomach writhing.

If he recovers, he's going to kill me.

Keyblade disappearing in a flash of light, Vanitas brazenly laced his arms behind his back. "I'm not going to kill you," he squeezed all the bravado he had into his voice. "Not while you're weak and pathetic, it'll give me a bad rep." Vanitas tilted his head condescendingly. "Hah, I bet you're regretting ever kidnapping me," he crowed before teleporting. "If I live long enough, the KBWA will promote me to a High-tier rank!" His obnoxious cackle lingered in the air.

Hands wringing around an imaginary, pale neck, Xehanort collapsed, his breath coming in labored pants. To think the sniveling brat would turn on him. To think, he remained fiercely loyal to the abominable Keyblade Wielder's Association. Did he find out Leonhart came for him?

What made Vanitas so loyal to the Association?

How come the crude darkness running in his veins failed to corrupt him?

Surprisingly, Zexion stormed through a dark corridor and perched on the edge of the bed. Jerking to a seated position, Vanitas opted to give the nobody a scare by not putting his helmet on, but Zexion merely quirked an impassive eyebrow and placed his heavy Lexicon on the coverlet.

"This will not end well for you," he simply said, hunting for a pair of steel-framed spectacles in his pockets. "Once the superior recovers, he'll enjoy pulling you apart limb from limb. You underestimated his generosity."

He missed the clouds scudding across the sea-blue sky and the bleached warmth of wintry sunlight playing across his skin. "And?" Vanitas flippantly challenged. "He can do whatever the hell he wants. At least I got bragging rights, who else can say the poked a hole in Xehanort and lived to tell the tale?" The scenery outside his window remained the same dreary grey landscape he woke up to on his first day. "I'm tired of living in this dump."

Pinning his grey fringe back, Zexion frowned diplomatically. "Is the KBWA mounting a rescue operation?" he bluntly asked. "You have been on good behavior till... today... oh..." a small, understanding smile, "you planned this carefully," he concluded.

Irises hardening, Vanitas threw a pillow at the wall. "The KBWA washed their hands clean," he conceded. "When I escaped to Los Angeles, the only person who made contact was my brother. But then again, he'll walk through anything to reach me. Guess I inflated my own importance." Vanitas toyed with the grooves in his bodysuit. "It doesn't matter." It does, a little. "The KBWA has bigger interests than rescuing some Mid-tier, half-baked association member stuck in a den of enemies."

The young nobody nodded stiffly. "Of course."

"Is there something you're not telling me?" Vanitas questioned, half-face unnerving. "I find it fishy Luxord vanished a few weeks after I arrived here." He smirked knowingly. "Don't think I was born yesterday, Zoe." The nobody twitched. "Whoever came, acted on their own. Weird as it sounds, I think Nox might've broken through, he's skilled enough. Possibly Sora nagged him till he did it," Vanitas mused. "Riku's also got independent authority..." he quietly grumbled to himself.

The day of Castle Oblivion's breach, the superior mired everyone in his personal misery by summoning the remaining nobodies and subjecting them to a long, winded and dramatic soliloquy about Kingdom Hearts. Zexion recalled his back aching from slouching in the stone hard chair. His brain constantly turned over the amount of damage in the castle.

To his mounting horror and grudging admiration, the invader retreated alive.

Since he assumed guarding the volatile Black Saint, the Keyblade wielder surprised him in more ways than one. "Beg for your life," Zexion advised. "Superior is summoning you. Most likely, he's going to kill you now," he drily stated. Vanitas jumped, landing forcefully on the floor. "Don't do anything stupid," the nobody cautioned, exasperated by his concern for the wayward human-thing.

"What are you, my mom?" Vanitas teased. "If... if I ever manage to get out of here, I'll drag you with me," he said. Touched by the sentiment, Zexion clutched the tome to his chest, enraged at himself. "You'll make a great pet!" the Black Saint jested, "all tiny and furry and silver haired."

A dark corridor ripped open in the spartan chamber and Zexion gestured to it. "After you," he muttered emotionlessly and Vanitas stepped in with a heavy inhale. "Please don't die."

By all appearances, Xehanort did not look like a person plotting murder most foul in his wizened skull. The wrinkles and age spots on his face disappeared. Apprehensive, Vanitas emerged from the corridor and it snapped shut behind him.

He stood tall, willing to accept anything the temperamental boss dished out. He'd rather slit his own throat than beg these heartless freaks for mercy.

"I won't punish you."

Xemnas smirked when Vanitas bristled.

"I understand your sentiments." The superior wore a graphite grey muffler and Vanitas wanted to pull the ends together and throttle him. "I don't feel like killing you-" Xemnas raised his hand and cast bind, "you amuse me." He dropped his cheek in a cupped palm, watching Vanitas crumple under the effects of the spell.

There is something in you which reminds me painfully of Roxas.

Clavius thrashed on the floor.

Did nobodies have feelings? The question often passed through Xemnas' mind and his occupation with it infuriated him. A headache pounded the back of his skull. He struggled to maintain himself.

Deep in his psyche, two forces raged, one unyielding to the other.

Nobodies

Early morning

Chief Prosecutor's office

Preposterous.

Taking off his glasses, Edgeworth rubbed the bridge of his nose and exhaled. His walnut table groaned under sheaves of papers and newspaper clippings dating back to more than half a century. Recently printed copies of online articles littered one side of the table and he found a spot to wedge a china cup steaming with his favorite Earl Grey tea.

Slouched on the couch, Wright flipped through a folder and tossed it on the coffee table, expression grim. He checked another cardboard file and distressed, set it down on the edge where it fell to the tiled floor in an unnaturally loud clutter.

"Nobodies," Edgeworth read from a report, "are humanoid beings without a heart..." How? How can an organism survive without a heart? "They are emotionless," he continued, "and emulate emotion by watching others; all nobodies are taught this basic emulation skill. These beings are created," he set his teacup down on a painted saucer, "when a heart is ripped out of a somebody... this somebody being a normal human such as you and me," the chief prosecutor ended the report.

His lawyer friend on the couch folded his arms, unsurprised.

"How is this possible Wright?" Edgeworth demanded. "This... these nobodies?"

"Welcome to my world," Phoenix laconically drawled. "Where nothing ever makes sense."

A/N: I can picture Edgeworth getting a stroke; but then again, the AA world is pretty weird by itself. Channeling the dead? Psycho-locks?

Once again, please read and review. Questions, comments and constructive criticism are all welcome