Chapter 5, The New Normal

Vexen winced as he tried to open his eyes, every part of his body aching. He tried to sit up, but he found it difficult, considering he was bottom-first in an unstable, sinking mass of garbage. The academic tried to shift to his right, only to fall deeper. He panicked, struggling to sit upright. This newfound anxiety felt more familiar with every desperate movement to rise above this refuse. It was so familiar, Vexen felt like he was participating in a reenactment more so than his own drowning via garbage.

Eventually, he grabbed onto the rim of the container he was in and sat up, panting. Vexen surveyed his surroundings. He appeared to be in a grimy alley, specifically in a rusty dumpster. He heard all manner of sounds from the streets—vendors hawking food, cars blaring their horns, dogs barking. This was a queer place. But where was…?

"Ugh…"

Vexen screamed at the figure rising from the garbage next to him, pushing himself against the rim. Fortunately, this was no junk monster. "Larxene! You're not dead."

"Great, let's have a party…" Larxene slurred, noticeably queasy from their flight over here. "Bagels and coffee in the Grey Room?"

"We're not home yet," Vexen surmised. "We still appear to be short of the mark. In fact, I think…" He paused. "Where's Demyx?"

From behind Vexen and Larxene, Demyx rose from the garbage life a vampire from his sarcophagus. "I'm up!" He yelped.

"Saints preserve me!" Vexen cried, turning to face the young Organization member. "You live!"

"I do," Demyx replied, just as astounded by the observation. He looked at the garbage around them. "Can't say the same for all of us?" He dug into the trash, pulling out a pterodactyl skull. "Looks like she took the brunt of the bovine."

"The bolide. Yes," Vexen clarified, stroking his chin. "But what about…?"

"I'm the Love Monkey!" The Love Monkey jumped from the depths of the refuse and climbed Demyx like a tall tree.

"Love Monkey!" Demyx cheered. "You made it!"

"Against all odds…" Vexen muttered in disbelief.

"Wait a minute," Larxene interrupted the reunion. "If we bring something from the past into the future, won't that disrupt the…"

"I don't know, Larxene," Vexen replied out of exasperation. "I don't know. It seems I don't know anything, really. I don't even know where we are! Because unless the City That Never Was cut its sanitation budget, we're not home!"

"But I think I do…" Demyx spoke up, wading out of the dumpster. Brushing himself off, he neared the edge of the alley with his ear out. "Listen!" Vexen followed, though he nearly brained himself on the way down. When he leaned forward with Demyx, he heard some kind of music playing from across the street.

"…ran/I ran so far away…"

"Huh," Larxene said, climbing out of the dumpster. "I think I've heard you blasting that from your room…"

"Yeah!" Demyx affirmed. "It's from my interstellar record collection! It's by Flock of Seagulls!"

"Nonsense, boy!" Vexen shamed the musician. "We're nowhere near a beach, as far as I can see."

"No, the band! That's their 1982 hit, 'I Ran."

"I wish you would," Larxene bitterly interjected, picking a chicken bone from her hair.

Demyx ignored her jibe, and looked at the litter surrounding them, finally settling on a crumpled up newspaper. "Holy crap!"

"What?" Vexen asked, concerned. "What is it?"

"Ronald Reagan is in power…the Berlin Wall is up…all the hair is feathered…" Demyx pointed at the paper's banner, which read, "The Daily News." "We're in New York City. The year…" His finger moved to the date. "1988."

Axel and Zexion entered the Grey Room with Replexen, Replemyx, and Larxica close behind.

"If they can go through lunch unnoticed, we'll be good," Zexion told Axel, more so to assure himself than his new cohort.

"Yeah," Axel agreed. "Long enough for us to get new names and get the hell out of Dodge."

Zexion tried to think of some optimistic alternative to that but he quickly recalled they were covering up manslaughter, so he instead turned his attention to the replicas. "Alright. Act natural."

"I DIDN'T ASK FOR YOUR GARBAGE OPINION!" Larxica snapped back with one her trademark phrases.

"DANCE, WATER, DANCE!" Replemyx said one of his catch phrases.

"FREEZE!" cried Replexen.

The three replicas sauntered into the Grey Room awkwardly, each heading in its own direction.

Nervous, Zexion asked Axel, "Do you want to see how this transpires orrrrrr…?"

"I think I'll start packing my bags."

"Right with you."

The two retreated back into the corridors.

Larxica went for the coffee at the buffet table. Robotically, she began pour herself a cup, though her accuracy could use a little work. As she was pouring, Marluxia joined her.

"Hello, Larxene."

"HEY, FUCKFACE." Larxica gave her default greeting.

"Well," Marluxia replied, taken aback. "That was uncalled for but expected."

"HA HA. HA HA. HA. HA."

"Typical for you, I suppose." Marluxia regained his composure. "I wanted to talk about that idea I mentioned after yesterday's meeting. I was wondering if you made up your mind on the…" He did a double-take before leaning in to whisper. "…coup."

"I DIDN'T ASK FOR YOUR GARBAGE OPINION!"

"Excuse me?!" Marluxia scoffed, revolted.

"HA HA. HA HA. HA. HA."

"But…you said you'd think about it!"

"HEY, FUCKFACE."

"What?"

"I DIDN'T ASK FOR YOUR GARBAGE OPINION!"

"Oh, that is it!" Marluxia tossed his hair with a fury he rarely evoked. "Just wait when the coup does come. You'll be the first to go!" He then hissed right into her ear, "And that might be sooner than you think."

He stormed off with a flourish, leaving Larxene with an overflowing cup of coffee.

"HA HA. HA HA. HA. HA."

"Ah, Demyx," Luxord greeted Replemyx from the couch.

"WAZZUP?!" Replemyx responded with his default greeting.

"Are you up for a game?" The gambler gestured to his Connect Four set. "It'll be a while yet until I have to venture off to Wonderland."

"ROCK ON, MY DUDE!"

"Very good then," Luxord crossed his arms with a smile. "Take a seat."

Replemyx froze as he processed the command.

"Uh…" Luxord eyed Replemyx, confused. "Demyx? Are you alright?"

"DANCE, WATER, DANCE!" Replemyx slapped Luxord with a splash of water.

"Argh!" Luxord was stunned by the splash. "What's the meaning of this?!"

"ROCK ON, MY DUDE!" Replemyx replied before walking away.

"Mark my words, HR will hear about this!" Luxord got to his feet and walked towards the elevator. "Saix will have a field day with you!"

But Replemyx could only compute so much, for he went off into the hallway, unsure of where he was going or what he was doing.

Replexen was staring out the Grey Room's window when none other than the Superior approached him from behind.

"Vexen," Xemnas greeted the facsimile of a scientist. "You seem to be taking your suspension well."

"HELLO."

"Yes, yes. Hello. Anyway," Xemnas returned to his point. "I was hoping you'd take a stroll with me around the castle perimeter. I need to inform you of an impending crisis I've just discovered, and you're the only member I can trust with this knowledge."

"FREEZE!"

"You heard right. This is an intellectual matter, and as much as you've fallen short recently, your mind is still of use to me," the Superior replied, gesturing to the door leading to the castle's terrace. "Come. Walk with me."

Xemnas turned and started to walk. Replexen, having processed the Superior's words as a transport command, followed close behind, unknowingly about to receive dire news the Organization depended on.

"So you're familiar with this time period?" Vexen further interrogated the boy.

"You bet," Demyx assured the academic. "You know what they say: the best education is a musical one."

"I'm the Love Monk-ayyyy!" The Love Monkey sang, doing some sort of cha-cha motion on Demyx's shoulder.

"No one says that!" Larxene argued. "You made that up!"

"Did not!" Demyx protested.

"There's no way you can know everything about when we are because you listen to a few albums!"

"Vexen knew everything about the dinosaur place because he read some books! I don't see what's so different."

"Enough!" Vexen silenced his colleagues. "The point is you know about this time period, Demyx. So you need to tell us where we can heat this…" He dug in his pocket and took out the gummi. "…that way, we can get out of this vile-smelling hell."

"Right. Right." Demyx pondered for a moment. "Let's see. 'We Didn't Start the Fire' won't come out for another year, so that's out of the question."

"I'm the Love Monkey!" The Love Monkey chittered excitedly. "I'm the Love Monkey!"

Demyx looked up to where the Love Monkey was pointing. "That's it! Down the block, over there!" He pointed to the building on the corner. "Club Ignition! That can be a clue, right?"

"It looks like a seedy bar," Larxene said, disgusted. "You sure your monkey friend doesn't want a drink?"

"I'm the Love Monkey!"

"That doesn't answer my question…"

"But it answers mine," Vexen nodded. "It's our best shot. Come on!" He moved to leave the alley before Demyx held him back by his hood.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Demyx pulled Vexen back into the grimy alcove.

"What's the matter, now?" Vexen demanded to know.

"We can't just stroll around, looking like…this." Demyx gestured to their black coats. "We have to be dressed like that if we want to blend in." He pointed to the kids in baggy pants and the girls in shoulder-pads.

"What are you on about?" Vexen snatched Demyx's hand off his hood. "We always traverse the worlds dressed like this."

"Yeah, but that's because those worlds don't care about fashion," Demyx explained to Vexen slowly, as if he were a child. "The first thing you learn about the 1980's is that it's a fashion-first decade. What you wear is who you are. If people see us walking around all hooded and stuff, they'll think we're drug dealers, o-or communists…"

"But we need these coats to protect us from the darkness," Larxene said, confused.

"Darkness? In the 1980's?" Demyx shook his head. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. How naïve."

A man in a hoodie walked by and handed Demyx a flier. "Schafly's Porn Theater's got a double feature tonight. Check it out."

Demyx took the flier and waved farewell to the man, who was already after his next customer. "Thanks, good sir." He turned back to his comrades. "See? That guy looked at me funny because we looked super-shady. We need new threads, fast!"

"OK, genius," Larxene wise-cracked. "Where are we gonna get them?"

Demyx was struck with a pensive silence before getting a brilliant idea.

"We can check the trash."

So out of the alleyway came our heroes, dressed in the garb of the era. Vexen was clothed in a red track suit, wearing some chains around his neck that no one appreciated. Atop his head was a Yankees cap with a hole in the brim. To his left was Larxene, dressed in a denim jacket, teal running pants, and combat boots. She wore sunglasses, though one of the lenses was popped out. And in between the two was Demyx, who by far walked with the most swagger among them. Dressed in the baggiest jeans and the puffiest crimson down vest (so puffy, it sufficiently hid the Love Monkey from sight), Demyx led the group with confidence. Surely, they looked good, since everyone was staring at them as they made their way towards Club Ignition.

"I feel so degraded," Vexen said through gritted teeth.

"I'm starting to miss the dinosaurs," Larxene lamented.

"Don't worry, guys!" Demyx consoled his friends. "We are looking tubular."

"I'm the Love Monkey." The Love Monkey chirped, ever so quietly.

"That's the spirit."

The trio entered the club to find a very filthy establishment stinking of…something very, very unpleasant.

"Now I get the Love Monkey's point," Larxene nodded. "We should just set the place on fire."

"It'll destroy all the bacteria, no doubt," Vexen hypothesized.

"Let's ask around before we commit any arson," Demyx reasoned, taking a seat at the bar. "Hey! Tender!"

An unpleasant-looking gentleman reared his ugly face. "Whaddaya want?"

"Feeling kind of hot here, don't you think?"

"My AC's busted. Whaddaya want from me? Jesus Christ…"

"Ah. The AC." Demyx turned to his comrades and whispered loudly, "That's a clue." Turning back to the bartender, he continued, "May we have a look at this 'AC'?"

The bartender eyed the three of them suspiciously. "What are you, the repair people?"

"Ummmm…"

"Yes!" Vexen spoke up for Demyx. "We are the repair people you speak of. You see, we're here to study your 'A-C'."

"Uh-huh," the bartender nodded. "You guys came faster than I thought. It's in the corner. Knock yourselves out."

"We will," Demyx assured the stranger. Just as they started for the AC, though, the bartender had some words for Larxene.

"Stay a bit longer, sweety, you can help turn up the heat for our gentleman callers!"

Larxene turned with a fury in her eyes. She stepped forward ready to stab his eyes out when the Love Monkey spoke up.

"I'm the Love Monkey!"

"Whatever you want to call yourself, toots." The bartender returned to cleaning glasses.

Vexen grabbed Larxene by the arm and pulled her to the AC. "Are you insane?!" He scolded her, trying his best to keep quiet. "Are you trying to break our cover?"

"No, I was trying to break his neck, thank you very much," Larxene quipped back, steaming mad.

"Can't you just take it in stride like a sport and move on?"

"Oh, like you do, Vexen? The world's biggest doormat?"

"I am not a doormat!" Vexen scoffed. "Besides, can't you see that man was flirting with you? It's a compliment."

"Of course you'd think that," Larxene rolled your eyes. "No one's ever hit on you."

"Well, I never…"

"Guys!" Demyx placed himself between them. "Let's focus on lighting this thing up."

"Lighting what up?"

The trio gasped at the sudden appearance of a fourth individual dressed in a dirty trench coat and worn-out ski-cap. Well, a fourth individual and his dogs. His many, many dogs.

"Um…nothing," Vexen retorted. "Absolutely nothing."

"Don't worry," the stranger assured them. "I don't bite. Neither do my friends here." He pointed to the dogs.

Demyx wasn't sure what to make of the animals but he felt the Love Monkey urinate down his shirt out of fright.

"Really," Larxene attempted to convince the man. "It's nothing, um…"

"Fagin," he replied with a half-toothed smile. "Don't worry. I know what you're doin'."

The trio looked at each other, confused. "You do?" Demyx asked.

"Yeah." Fagin reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a transparent bag carrying some leaves. "You want grass, eh? I got a free sample right here."

"Leave those repair people alone, will ya, Fagin?" The bartender shouted from the counter. "I need the air up and running now."

"Hey, get off my back!" Fagin shouted back. "You know I need the money!" He faced his potential customers. "What do you say?"

"Ummm…" Demyx was at a loss for words.

"Let us confer!" Vexen answered for Demyx, pulling him aside along with Larxene. "We can't take substances from a shady stranger!" He whispered anxiously.

"Why not?" Demyx countered. "He said light it up. That could be the heat we need to get us out of here."

"Demyx is right, for once," Larxene pitched in. "It's worth a shot, just to see where it gets us."

"Trust me, Vex. Dinosaurs were your specialty. The 80's are mine."

Vexen bit his lip. "Alright then." He turned back to Fagin. "We will have your grass!"

TEN MINUTES LATER

"I-I just don't understand!" Vexen stammered, struggling for his words. "I work and work and nothing ever comes of it. NOTHING."

"What are you talking about?" Demyx drawled. "You're a scientist." He laughed at that for some reason. "Science comes out of it."

"I wish it were simple as that," Vexen shook his head. "For what is science without…without…with…out…"

Silence.

"People?" Larxene suggested.

"People!" Vexen exclaimed. "Damn people, always…ruining things." He rested his head against the wall. "That's our purpose in this life. To ruin people's lives."

Demyx adjust his seat. "Nah, Vexen. You got it all wrong. The reason we are is…to help?"

"You sound like you need help, alright." Larxene joked, before laughing at her own joke for an unnecessarily long time.

"I'm serious, Larxene." Demyx began to cough profusely.

"I'm…the Love…Monkey…" The Love Monkey purred, blazed as the furnaces of hell.

"Yeah, yeah. He gets it!" Demyx paused. "Wait, what did you say?"

"Never mind the lemur, Demyx," Vexen waved the boy off. "The problem is with me. I'm a failure."

"Only if you say you are. You see perception…" Demyx waved his hand in fantastical fashion. "…is reality."

"And I'm very perceptive, boy," Vexen replied. "It's my one talent. And from what I've observed, I've failed at every turn." He shook his head, looking off into the distance. "You study for years and years, only for you to be laughed at by all your peers. No matter how smart I am, my talents will never be appreciated."

"Ohhhhh. This is about the Replica thing from yesterday." Demyx paused. "They weren't laughing."

"That's beside the point. They dismissed me. They always, always dismiss me."

"Huh," Larxene nodded, looking off towards nowhere in particular. "Guess we have that in common."

Vexen and Demyx turned to her, curious.

"What? Surprised that the cranky lady isn't respected in the cult dominated by emotionless men?" Larxene snarked wearily.

"But…" Demyx spoke up. "You're emotionless, too." He turned to Vexen, confused. "That's the rule, right?"

Vexen shrugged. "I'm not sure. Devil curse me, but in the past 24 hours I've felt a terrible mix of frustration, sorrow, and indigestion, so maybe there's a loophole."

"As I was saying," Larxene continued. "No one wants to hear what I have to say. I dare to speak up, and everyone looks at me funny before moving on to the next guy." She crossed her arms, looking defeated. "I'm just here to fill up a slot. Nothing more."

Demyx took another hit off his joint. "Nah. That's me. I don't even know how I got hired for this gig." He shook his head somberly. "All they do is yell at me to do work and I try. I-I really, really…OK, I don't. But there's a reason."

"Maybe," Vexen cleared his throat. "Maybe you don't try because you know there's nothing in return for you. No one will look at you differently because they have an image of you etched in stone."

"Yeah," Larxene seconded Vexen's hypothesis. "Like how people just expect me to be an irrational, crazy bitch."

"Oh, no one really believes that." Vexen attempted to console her.

"Xigbar calls me a PMS-crazed whore twice a week."

"Oh." Vexen nodded, now fully realizing how terribly Larxene was treated. It must have been strange, being the only woman in a boys' locker-room. Vexen could somewhat sympathize, being the only genius in the Organization. Then again, he had a protégé in Zexion, and sometimes he wondered if the boy was smarter than him.

Meanwhile, Larxene was always alone.

"You know, woman…I mean…Larxene," Vexen spoke up after some time. "I don't think you're crazy. Not really."

"Oh, really?"

"No. You're cunning and quick-witted. A bit hot-blooded, sure, but a lot of us in the Organization can do with a fraction of the passion you have." Vexen nodded, stunned by his own words. "I guess what I'm trying to say is…I…" He bit his lip and closed his eyes, searching hard for the word. "…respect you."

Larxene gazed at Vexen out of disbelief. "Well…I respect you, too. Sure, you can be weird and uptight, but your brains got us out of that prehistoric mess, even if they got us into it. You're a smart guy."

Vexen, much to his surprise, smiled at this sudden validation. It was strange. In the pit of his stomach, he felt this warm sensation. Something he knew all too well in a past life, he knew it.

"You know," Demyx chuckled. "This was a neat team-building exercise. Dangerous, yeah. But now, I feel like you guys are…" He thought about what he was gonna say next, which was a rare occasion. "…I feel like you guys are my friends."

Vexen turned to Demyx, puzzled. "We're Nobodies. We can't have 'friends.'"

"I'm not sure," Demyx wondered out loud. "Like when we were in that pterodactyl nest…I meant what I said when I called you my friend." He placed his hand on Vexen's shoulder, catching the academic's attention.

Not sure how to react to this, Vexen took his time to answer. "We're drugged out of our minds, aren't we?"

Speak of the devil, Fagin returned to the club's corner with his diverse pack of canines. "How's that sample? Good, right?"

"Radical," Demyx replied with a dazed smile.

"Good, good," Fagin smacked his lips. "So funny thing…you happened to get just one ounce more than the typical sample sooooo…" He extended his palm. "Ya gotta pay full price."

"But…" Larxene started. "…we don't have any munny."

Fagin's smile faded in an instant. "You're kidding, right?"

"Sorry," Vexen got to his feet, though he wasn't fully lucid. "But we're broke."

"Baloney!" Fagin snapped. "How could broke folks afford nice clothes like that?"

"Come to think of it," the bartender joined the conversation. "Those are high-falutin' clothes for repair people."

Demyx whispered to Larxene, "I told you these clothes were good."

Then, at that fateful moment, three men dressed in grey entered the bar. "We're here to fix the AC."

"IMPOSTERS!" The bartender exploded, and promptly pulled a shotgun out from behind the counter.

"SWEET GOD!" Vexen cried in fear.

"I'm the Love Monkey!" The lemur jumped from Demyx's vest into the rafters, fearing for its life.

"They got a rabid monkey!" Fagin cried, hiding behind his bulldog, now sobbing hysterically.

"Um, did we come at a bad time?" One of the actual repair people asked but he was ignored.

"You ain't gonna kill me!" the grass-providing bum proclaimed. "I'm gonna get that money, even if its off your dead, chewed-up bodies!" With that, Fagin released his hounds onto the Organization members in disguise.

"You know, I've really sat on it," Demyx spoke up as he backed up against the wall. "I don't think I like the 80's."

A/N: Oliver and Company is a Disney movie starring rock star Billy Joel and veteran actress Bette Midler released in 1988 based on Charles Dickens's Oliver Twist. I figured that needed explaining.