Chapter Nine: Vespertide

The decaying Whitechapel district of London; early evening of February the second…

The raven's sable feathers descended with the gently-falling snow upon the mud- and sleet-laden roads and alleyways of frayed cobblestone and his wicked eyes dissected the seedy underworld of London's impoverished slums, already engulfed in the darkness of night. And through Diablo's eyes, his Mistress beheld all.

Beggars were left to rot in their despair and hunger by their apathetic neighbors; children smoked and drank without fear of repercussion; an old man and his dog had a pissing match against the side of a building, never minding the occasional odd stare from passersby; a pack of thugs beat a senseless victim into submission and the two officers from Scotland Yard didn't dare intervene, both far too afraid for their own well-beings or otherwise bribed to leave them be; a rowdy fight had broken out within the pub, some of the combatants spilling into the streets or trampling others under their feet; and there were muggings and shaggings and acts of vandalism and pyromania and a possible murder all gloriously performed by souls either too unfortunate or too wicked to aspire for anything greater and their Darkness was beautiful to her.

But for all this, Maleficent couldn't smile.

The tall, horned fairy garbed all in black stood ominously silent before the broken paned window of the rundown, two-story building as Diablo returned through a jagged gap in the glass and fluttered atop his perch on his Mistress' staff. The Dark Fairy pet her faithful raven before speaking to those others in the room with her as her eyes remained locked on the sinful harvest below, "James Hook is dead. Now, only eight of us remain."

A brief silence fell over the cold, musty room as a fire crackled behind. There were three others besides Maleficent and Diablo present—four if one were to count the other winged sidekick—and each considered their unofficial leader's words, all with varying levels of urgency.

Hades, seated in his armchair beside Ursula near the fireplace and holding a fuming cigar in his grasp, jeered, "Hey, so we lost the kooky one! Yeah, you wanna run that by me again how this is a problem?" Then he returned his attention to the cigar and inhaled once more.

The tentacled sea-witch wearing a winter coat and reclining in the identical chair beside him concurred, "I'm with flame-boy on this one." Then, waving her cigar-holding arm for emphasis, she added, "James Hook defected from our cause all for some little revenge scheme so stupid it was doomed to fail from the start! We've been down to eight members long before now!—(animal sidekicks excepted.)" She then inhaled another huff of sweetened tobacco to calm down and exhaled the gathered smoke, reveling in the euphoria it brought. "Oh, you don't get this stuff in Atlantica."

Hades nudged her. "Ha!—I know, right?"

The pair shared a short chuckle before Jafar, only some feet behind Maleficent and with Iago perched on his shoulder, countered, "If you two simpletons would keep your heads out of those clouds for one minute, then perhaps you'd understand the gravity of the situation. Driven to insanity though the departed captain was, his death only proves Xehanort is growing more tenacious in his efforts to stop us. Hook was but a warning. Xehanort's next target will be one of us, and now that he's enlisted a fourth Keybearer to his roster, I haven't the faintest doubt he could destroy us one by one if he set his mind to it."

The pale blue god of the Underworld appeared beside Jafar in a billow of black vapor with one arm around the robed vizier's shoulder (and thusly robbing Iago of his perch) and the other arm stuffing a handful of Hades-brand cigars into Jafar's mouth, much to the other villain's (and his parrot's) extreme displeasure. "Hey, lamp-hunter, lighten up!" With a finger-gun motion, Hades lit every tobacco roll in a quick blaze of fire as he continued speaking, "So, the old man's got a pirate kid on his ship now—so what? Did ya see how badly that resentful little twerp wants to run off and play pirate fulltime? Give me five minutes alone with the kid and I'll make 'im forget all about working for nasty old Xehanort."

Jafar coughed and spat the myriad unwelcome cigars from his mouth, lurching over from Hades' grasp as he tried to recompose himself. Iago, meanwhile, flapped his wings angrily before the death-god's face. "Hey, pal! You ever think you're takin' things just a little too lightly around here?! Right now, Xehanort's buildin' himself a small army and they all got Keyblades with your name on 'em! How long you think you're gonna last when they come gunnin' for you, huh?!"

But Hades ignored the parrot's warnings and grabbed his beak and cooed to him as if he were an infant to be coddled. "D'aaaw! Is widdle Polly upset because he didn't get a cigar too?"

Iago struggled and failed to break free of his grasp. "Hands off! But now that you mention it, yes! Gimme all your Havana!"

Releasing the bird's beak and then snapping his fingers, the death-god produced another cigar in Iago's mouth and lit it with a spout of flame from his fingertip. Inhaling and then blowing happily, the parrot sank dreamily to the floor, "Aw, yeah—now this is the stuff."

"Told you," Ursula raised her own cigar in salute to the intoxicated bird, then returned to her own smoking.

Back on his feet, Jafar glared furiously at his traitorous sidekick, then returned his wrath to his parrot's dealer. "I should have expected this sort of indolent half-measure attitude from you, Hades. Tell us again how you almost depowered Hercules."

The god of the underworld burst into a form of intense, orange flame then. "HEY!" he screamed in Jafar's face, pointing a spiteful finger at his nose. But he gradually lessened his wrath until he returned to his default blue state as he spoke, "I said give me five minutes with little Ventus here! That's all I need to screw with his stupid, spiky little head. I ain't saying Xehanort's not a threat—just that he can easily be weakened." He turned his attention to the Dark Fairy at the window. "Isn't that right, Your Fairiness?—we break apart the old man's kiddies, and then he's completely helpless. …Well, about as helpless as an old guy with a magic key-sword can be. Am I right, here?"

Maleficent was silent a moment, evidently focused on something beyond the window, but at length, she answered. "For all your eccentricities, you aren't wrong, Hades."

At this, Hades smirked haughtily at Jafar, wiggling the folds of skin where his eyebrows should've been for added insult. "Ya hear that, O wise vizier? I'm not wrong."

Jafar scoffed at his accomplice's arrogance as Ursula chuckled in amusement at the death-god's small victory. How she tolerated that rabblerousing mass of flame and dissent was beyond the vizier's understanding.

The Dark Fairy turned sidelong to face her cohorts and clarified, "Young Ventus was quite the surprise for all of us; his existence has been hidden well until now—and to think he'd been planted on that ship for seven weeks! But for all of Xehanort's efforts to conceal the boy from our intelligence until yesterday, this may ultimately prove to work in our favor." The others looked profoundly to her, hanging on her next words. "It is obvious that Ventus is anything but grateful to the Master who showed him the freedoms of piracy and feels only hatred for him and the demi-Heartless servant who destroyed his future by seizing that map to treasures beyond his wildest dreams. And prolonged exposure to Darkness has nauseated our boy at the thought of remaining with his friends who've grown so unfalteringly in the Light."

She paused then, clearly fixated on a particular crime on the other side of the cracked window. Curious, the others gradually joined her at their own paces—first Jafar, then Hades, then Ursula, then Iago (who perched atop Jafar's shoulder with the cigar still in his mouth, earning a spiteful glare from the vizier who promptly confiscated the tobacco roll and crushed it to ashes in his hand)—and they all beheld the same spectacle as their leader: in a scantly-lit alleyway across the street, a young woman in ragged and revealing attire struggled and screamed for her life against a man obscured in a long, dark coat and matching top-hat, who restrained her from behind in a one-armed grip with one hand over her mouth as the other reached inside his black duster. Relatively far away though the other street-level denizens were, none paid the incident any mind and returned to their own misconduct when they decided it would be best not to intervene.

As the villains considered the crime-in-progress with varying degrees of approval or distaste, Maleficent resumed her monologue, half of Ventus and half of the victim below. The imperiled woman reminded her of Princess Aurora. "The seeds of destruction are already sewn. They need only the proper nourishment to thrive."

The Dark Fairy slowly waved a hand in circles around the crystal ball atop her staff and softly muttered fell words under her breath—and from the mind's eye of not-Aurora in the alley, a vague stream of green mist appeared in the distance. Glazed with tears and shaken with adrenaline though her eyes were, the blonde young woman in the assailant's grasp understood the mist drew steadily nearer, almost snakelike in its movements. None could see it but her and the sorceress who sent it.

Maleficent's voice spoke in her mind, "There is a way out, you know."

Time almost slowed in the confusion and dread. The woman who wasn't Aurora was seized instantly by the witch's voice and knew the vapor-snake's words were for her. The mist then halted its advance at the head of the alley and settled into a collective nebula of ominous jade that swept across the snowy, cobblestone path. Through it, Maleficent spoke again to the false princess.

"Look around you. Look at yourself. Darkness is everywhere in your life, even your heart."

The killer brandished a knife from within his duster and steadily raised it to his victim's throat. Yet for all this, the woman was desperately enraptured by the mist's words. From within that emerald vapor, a black, shadowy figure formed and strode slowly forward—tall and slight, yet clearly horned and carrying an elongated staff.

"Corruption, perversity, perversion, deception, wickedness, greed…there is power in this Darkness in your life—power to vanquish the forces which oppress you—but you've yet to embrace it. Why? There is nothing but fear to restrain you. Give yourself to the Darkness…"

Maleficent's ethereal visage sharpened and the sight of her brought a new calmness to knifepoint-Aurora.

"Let go of the fear which enslaves you. Give your heart—everything that you are—to the Darkness and it shall be your salvation. Embrace it. Give in to the Night…"

She didn't need words; the woman who wasn't Aurora said everything she needed through her tear-soaked, determined eyes. Her heart willingly accepted the dark savior, and when the killer's knife broke skin and trailed along her throat, only an inky-black vapor escaped the young woman's flesh. Her widened eyes blazed with the sulfuric glow of malice and a throaty, predatory growl escaped her suffocated lips, and as her assailant in the top-hat and duster realized these changes and that his knife was suddenly ineffective, he dropped the weapon and staggered back in fear. After the Aurora of the Night turned her vengeful, hungry gaze around to meet his, her body suddenly twisted and contorted into gruesome shapes, her flesh gradated to the color of blackest shadows, and her height and build grew so immensely that the newly-Heartless woman towered over her would-be murderer.

He whimpered and cowardice drove him to flee, but the sable ogress was upon him at once and she violently tore him apart with her claws, teeth, and monstrous might with such a wild zeal that every fatal blow flung him or his limbs across the backstreet as though he were a blood- and meat-filled ragdoll, savagely decorating the alley walls and road with him. His agonized shrieks flooded the slums of Whitechapel and all in the area turned instantly, confused and disoriented at first, but they screamed accordingly when they finally understood the horror before them. The Heartless snapped her sulfurous gaze to her terror-stricken audience and eyed them indiscriminately with hunger and malice. She opened her fanged jaws and unleashed a bellow of purest ferocity that resonated off the walls of Whitechapel, and all scattered at her pursuit.

The villains observing the scene from behind their window now leered with collective interest at the monster their leader created and the rampage that followed.

Ursula was the first to congratulate her, tobacco smoke fuming from her mouth as she spoke, "I gotta say, Maleficent, I like your style. Make them want the Darkness. Turn it into something they would sell themselves for and then watch those poor, unfortunate souls fall prey to their own deliverance. I may just have to use that."

Hades interjected, "Oh, trust me, sister, striking a legitimate deal with your suckers is so rewarding. Because in the end, it's their fault they got screwed over. You just give them the tools to make a mess of things and enjoy the show."

Jafar asked plainly, "Is this how you plan to unravel Xehanort and his disciples?"

Cigar in his mouth, the god of the Underworld grinned sinisterly at his cohort. His expression said it all.

The Heartless roared. Whitechapel screamed.

It may not have struck anyone's notice, but take another look at the scene where the villains watch the criminal almost murder that woman in the alley. Now, I don't meant to suggest this was the act of a certain infamous serial killer who was never captured or identified as far as the general public knows…BUT, it's the turn of the century (give or take the Anglo-German Naval Arms Race preceding World War I), the incident took place during the night hours of London's Whitechapel district, the man wore a long, dark coat and top-hat, he attempted to slash his would-be victim's throat before doing Lord-knows-what-else to her, and the woman wore clothing possibly denoting a career in prostitution. If you can guess who this would-be murderer was, then you are awesome (bonus points for identifying any historical/criminal profile inaccuracies).

I know this story is taking a frustratingly long time to update, so, while you wait for me to do so, consider reading MegaFlameHedge's Antipode series. As Mega says in the author's note, Antipode is a character-study of how differently the Kingdom Hearts series might've progressed if Riku kept the Keyblade while Sora went through a very different adventure. Yes, this kind of setup has been tried by others before, but like Reign said on TV Tropes (yes, this story is so good it was recommended on TV Tropes), "While a lot of fanfictions do this, MegaFlameHedge does it right." The first story in the series maintains a close parallel to the first Kingdom Hearts game until the shocking twist ending, but still offers some other unique deviations that make it worth reading, not the least of which being Sora's new role and the rewarding character development Riku goes through as the flawed and arrogant teen learns the hard way what it means to be a hero (just wait until you get to chapters 19 and 20...), but the rest of the series goes off on its own, radically different direction, even involving new worlds like those of Sword in the Stone, The Great Mouse Detective, and Gargoyles and introducing characters from some other Final Fantasies and Bravely Default, so there's a lot of cool changes to look forward to. It's got its problems, sure, but what fan-fiction doesn't? If you don't feel like waiting for me to update February or just want to read an epic that's more tonally-balanced, check out MegaFlameHedge's Kingdom Hearts: The Antipode.

(I did a goofy infomercial parody of this endorsement on DeviantArt, so you can look at that if you want xD)