GaudiumB:
Resurgence
Chapter One, Part One: To the Morrow
"If you're going to do something tonight that you'll be sorry for tomorrow morning,
sleep late." ~Henny Youngman
September 25
1:08 P.M.
Another hangover greeted Axel as he awoke. He couldn't remember last night's party, and that's how he wanted it. Something needled into his bare lower back and he pried it out; an empty syringe. After flinging it off the busted king-sized bed he flopped further into its stained, crimson comforter and squinted to keep the hangover from pricking his emerald eyes out. Groaning, he massaged the bridge of his nose and smoothed his draping scarlet hair from his face. A couple moments later left him dozing again, oblivious of the other person who had crept into the bedroom. The bulky, scarlet curtains ripped apart, the afternoon light flooding onto Axel's face.
"Ah!" He curled upright, shielding his eyes as the light further stung his migraine.
"Shit." His unsettled stomach heaved its remains into the bedside trash can. Wiping his lips he glared at his annoyer. "Zexion, I swear to God…" He sought out his ripped pants and shirt.
"Don't bother," Zexion stated, "I've had Demyx take them to be washed." He lobbed Axel some fresh clothing and began to remove the drained beer bottles.
Axel growled, "Oh, not Demyx," He stood to pull some jeans on, "I'll never get them back!"
"Maybe you should have thought about that before you got wasted." Zexion countered, filling a black garbage bag. He broke off, considering something while gazing at the tainted hardwood floor. "I know he was just released, but we both know you can't afford any trouble right now." He whispered, "You know what Xemnas said-"
"I don't give a fuck what he said!" Axel exploded, lamenting the pounding in his ears.
Zexion stood there, tying off the stuffed bag as Axel calmed himself. The redhead stroked his temples, easing the stretching crack in his skull. He sucked air through his clenched teeth.
"I know, Zexion. I know." He seized his ignition key, iPod, and leather jacket from the hooks on his door. Axel had a toe out of his room when Demyx bashed his blond head against his face. He winced, clutching a bleeding nose.
"Axel!" Demyx bleated at him. "I went to get your laundry, but when I got there it was ruined. My bad!" Demyx beamed sheepishly. Axel lost any remaining compassion.
"Zexion," he twisted, "I expected Demyx to be a screamer, but I never took you for one." It was a blind guess, but he wasn't unaware of their relationship. He watched long enough to sense the satisfaction of Zexion's face going slack before slamming the door and brushing past Demyx. Thundering down the stairs, he heard the blond unbolt the door to a fuming Zexion.
"Demyx, never touch his laundry again!"
Zexion's outburst smothered Axel's incensed mood and alleviated his headache. He stumbled down three flights before staggering through the dining hall of the building. Axel never went here because he tried to avoid being interrogated by another member, least of all their leader.
Xemnas, owner of the complex, inherited the apartments from his father and remodeled it to become the headquarters for the Organization. It held nine floors at two members per level, including a pent-house for the Superior at the top, an entrance level, and two basement floors. Constructed of tinted glass, it gave the members a stunning view of downtown Aon and also blocked curious eyes. Right on the outskirts of the city it was of heavy traffic, but near enough to walk to any major locale. Hiding in plain sight, it was the perfect fortress to traffic certain objects of interest.
Axel slipped in between the colossal oak doors and into the deserted chamber. Remnants of the other members' meals laid waiting for the maids to remove them and the odor of burnt coffee clung to the filtered air. He stalked past the mammoth hardwood table, glancing at the roman numerals carved into the top. Axel halted and gazed at that single stroke upon the tabletop with a blend of admiration and unadulterated revulsion. A quivering hand spread over the digit, swallowing it beneath his palm. The fingers retracted, scratching five rays atop the solitary – 'I.' The redhead recoiled, appalled at his actions.
"Damn!" He panicked, searching for something to undo this lethal error. Snatching a dirty dish he placed it on top, hiding the noticeable marks and breathing a sigh of relief. A death threat to the ringleader of the largest underground contraband circus was not on his list of things to do today. Axel shoved himself away from the crime scene and trudged over to the unmanned bar, the possibility of being discovered bearing down on his delicate shoulders.
A quiet squeak of the kitchen's swinging doors announced the entrance of one of the hired help. Ignorance was the usual action Axel took, but due to the combination of recent event he could not resist glancing behind him, somewhat expecting Xemnas himself to be removing his only barrier between life and death. It was only the busboy, clearing the silverware and plates as he was ordered. The teenage boy caught Axel staring at him and called out a greeting. Axel sighed and raised a hand in return, turning back to the counter to finish and leave, but the tremor coursing through his hands knocked the mug of espresso off the ledge.
The proper foul language for this situation eluded him, but a string of miscellaneous words satisfied his need. As he was kneeling down to pick it up, a more slender hand grasped it. Looking up in mild surprise, he watched as the busboy began to make him another cup. His eyes stayed focus on his hands, while Axel listened for any others approaching the dining room.
The young man passed the mug over to him. "Feel better, Axel."
Axel grunted, removing his gloves from his jacket's pocket and sliding them on his hands. "Who said you could call me that?"
He grinned. "You did, Axel, don't you remember?"
"Nope."
"I figured." He laughed, at ease, but after glancing at his watch, added, "You better haul ass if you want to leave before Xigbar returns."
"Ah, crap," Axel moaned. He turned and strode to the door, throwing a hand up in a lazy goodbye. "Thanks, kid."
"I'd tell you my name, again," shouted the busboy, "But you never remember!"
Guzzling the cup of cold, black coffee Axel waved a gloved hand to the armed doorman, signaling his departure. He rolled his way through the revolving glass door and stepped out into a crisp, autumn afternoon. The light made him squint and raised a hand to cover his eyes. Slipping on his favorite pair of sunglasses, he staggered over to the triple deck parking garage by way of the sidewalk, almost crashing into a decorative holly bush.
The garage was only a single level above ground, with three floors hidden beneath it, out of sight. He passed the guard's post, eyeing the rather chunky security personnel fingering a holstered pistol. Without pausing, he lifted the empty hand and flicked his middle finger. The man snorted his contempt, but Axel smirked at the other's aggravation and tossed his drained Styrofoam cup at his face. The guard swatted it down, scowled once more, and returned to his wheeled chair next to his post.
Tramping over to the elevator, Axel stepped into the waiting lift and jabbed the down arrow. The doors slid together and the machine descended the two levels to his designated area. It arrived with the customary chime and reopened to the extensive corridor of vehicles. Ruby fluorescent lights substituted natural daylight and concrete pillar after pillar bore the strain of the foundation like a stone Atlas. Axel pinched the bridge of his shades and pushed them to the top of his head, breathing in the smell of polish and leather. He ambled down the rows of sports and luxury cars, passing Audis, Austin Martins, and Saabs alike.
Wired from the coffee, he spotted his numerals, 'VIII,' written in profound scarlet spray-paint on the wall, marking his territory and overlooking his most prize possession; a Suzuki Hayabusa. The narrow, sinewy body was jet black, melting into a single piece of pure desire. Its nose pitched forward in perpetual motion, craving attention. At the top speed, it left formula racing cars in the dust; and wind screaming past, yearning to be sucked into the gaping air intakes. Bloody flames hand brushed onto the every place possible graced the sleek shape. Riding this piece of engineering ingenuity was fourth on his list of pleasurable activities, sex topping the chart by a mile.
Gripping the handlebars he tipped it off its kickstand, balancing it on its fat racing wheels. Axel's leg missed the seat as he swung it over, and the gas tank met his groin. Paralyzed, he slumped over, squashed his blistering cheek to the unfeeling metal, and clutched his crotch in agony.
An unmarked-charcoal Hummer roared into the parking deck, swerving toward the crippled Axel, and swiped the back taillight of his beloved bike. The Hayabusa spun and slammed onto the ground, grinding him beneath it. The glass and chipped body frame clattered on the asphalt as he laid in shock. Pinned beneath the quarter-ton superbike, he bled from the obvious injuries; an eyepiece of the favored shades shattered by the blow. Axel pried an arm free and brushed a shaky finger over the chipped lens. A daggered edge nicked his fingertip, adding to the bloodshed. The threat to his life he could take, the damage to his motorcycle he would deal with, but the destruction of his sunglasses was unforgivable. A proverbial spark lit the fuse to his vehemence and fireworks were going to fly. Extracting himself from underneath the motorcycle, he limped over to Xigbar who was slamming the car door as he exited.
"Xigbar!" Axel roared in his scarred face, "You son of a motherfuckin' whore! I'm going to rip you goddamn open! You hear me‽"
"First, I suggest you back the hell off me." Xigbar emphasized by shoving Axel in the chest. "And second, you can't do shit to me!"
Axel drew his switchblade from his ebony-leather jacket. "I can cut you another scar, drunk or sober." He flicked it open. The dim lighting glinted off the unusual curved blade, flashing into each others' expectant eyes. Xigbar felt his hip for the handgun he always kept there, but he hadn't had time to retrieve it from the passenger's seat before Axel's assault.
He chuckled, but took a hesitant step back, raising his hands. "You do this, Axel and your ass will be handed to the Superior on a plate!"
"Fine," Axel passed his knife between his blood-slicked hands. "Then after you, I'll take out Xemnas." He tightened his grip around the handle at the idea of killing him.
Xigbar relaxed and let his arms drop back to his side. "Be careful, Axel. You might not want to say that so loudly."
Axel blinked and wiped his eyes clear of the blood seeping from his face. He grinned. "Nervous, Xiggy? It's just the two of us down here!"
"I'm hurt, Axel." Saix cocked a chromed revolver as it imbedded itself into the back of Axel's neck. "How could you forget about me?"
"Fuck." Axel dropped the dagger and raised his hands in surrender. "Long time, no see, Saix." His neurons were backfiring in his mind, and the migraine returned tenfold. He squinted against the sudden brightness of the lights. The parked cars in his vision disintegrated and swirled in his vision, colors running together like a kaleidoscope. Axel dropped to his knees and braced himself on the coarse tar.
Saix peered at the kneeling man before him with bitterness. "And whose fault is that?" He waited for a reply, but moments passed with nothing but silence between them. Returning the chromed revolver to its rightful owner, he walked in front of Axel and crouched closer to him. "If I even think that you threatened the Superior again," He murmured in his ear, "I will end you. Commit that to your memory." Saix glanced to a smug Xigbar, "You're the chauffeur tonight, correct?"
Xigbar nodded, crossing his arms, "Yeah."
"Not anymore." Saix raised himself and watched as Axel swayed beneath him. "Axel, you have the rounds tonight. If you don't, you will not come back."
Axel grimaced in defeat, crawling over to firm himself on the Hummer's bumper.
Xigbar walked over and kicked his hand off the chrome. "Don't bloody my car!"
They strode away while Axel rolled onto his soaked back, exhausted beyond belief. Pain soaked throughout every centimeter of his conscious body, throbbing at each flutter of his abnormal heartbeat. He dragged his hands along his sliced face, closing his watering eyes from the light.
"Axel, one more thing," Saix added, slowing to a halt. "We know about you and your 'problem.' Don't delude yourself and think we're not on your ass every moment." He started again, but called back, "Remember, we're getting the extras tonight." Laughing, they dissolved as Axel blacked out in those glaring lights.
Sorry about the shortness, but there is a method to my madness. This is a three part-er, so wow. Thank you to everyone who read the odd preface, but stuck with it!
Next is Roxas' turn. Huzzah.
HAI AMY! Your critique is INVALUABLE! And you know I mean it, because it's in caps!
AN:
Word Count: 2,188