Redundancy Is Key

By request, the sarcasm has not been cut back one bit. ;)

Wretched to Unbearable

Over dramatization serves no purpose when dealing with a reserved individual such as Xemnas. I begged, whined, feigned cardiac arrest, and even fake fainted due to—just as fake—internal bleeding, but all of my theatrics went, apparently, unnoticed, and I still landed myself on my gummi ship, in a not so pleasant disposition, with a headache, and a grievous stab to my pride.

As much as I would have liked to blame this particularly unpleasant predicament on one irritating female by the name of Elizabeth Swann, my brain decided to direct the annoyance towards Xemnas instead.

Homicide was certainly one of the more prevalent thoughts in my twisted excuse of a mind—needless to say—but, rather unfortunately, I had no idea how to go about killing a well-preserved corpse. Impaling wouldn't work. I've tried that on Demyx before, and all I got was large amounts of accusatory squealing from the blonde in question and a long lecture from the scientific wonder that is more commonly referred to as Vexen.

You see, our establishment of rambunctious dead people actually follows a rather strictly outlined set of rules. One such rule is the prohibition of causing serious bodily harm to a fellow Organization member. That law of sorts, however, was rather promptly eliminated when Xemnas decided to utilize his highly acclaimed brilliance (which has been nigh and dead for some time now) and figured out that we, the happily deceased, are more than slightly repulsed by each other. I, however, had the tremendous pleasure of stabbing Demyx before the untimely demise of that regulation and still enjoyed the punishment.

In my opinion the Superior overreacted. I wasn't aiming for anything fatal; I just embedded my chakram in the blonde's shoulder because he was being a nuisance and I didn't particularly feel like self-combusting...alright, so I deserved the damn punishment! I admit it! Happy?

The second rule—even though it's not the only other regulation by any means—of our lively community (this is actually where my previous begging and feinting comes in) is the disallowance of using darkness tunnels as a means of transportation unless you are teleporting by yourself. In other words, any third party present, use the damn ship. And speaking of third parties, Elizabeth was, rather obviously, considered one.

And that brings me back to the aforementioned predicament: a ship, a joystick, and no knowledge on how to utilize either.

That's right ladies and gentlemen; the one and only, strikingly handsome, skilled in many an art, and unforgettable (modesty was never my forte) Axel didn't know how to manipulate technology. To my defense, however, I would like to say that nobody's perfect. As cliché as that phrase is, I must admit it's true. I must also admit, however, that I'm pretty close to breaking that convention…but that's another conversation for another day…

For another far off day. Seeing as I'm sure such provocative proclamations in front of Ms. Swann will not earn my male genitalia any mercy.

As perfect as I may be, however, (just because Ms. Swann would appreciate staying in denial concerning the matter doesn't mean I can't proclaim the truth!) I still had the problem of setting this unnecessarily gigantic piece of metal in motion. Common sense, if I had any, would probably dictate pressing the large, green button labeled 'START' to accomplish the task at hand, but I never did brag about my tremendously tight grasp on that elusive concept of so-called 'logic' and therefore was rather attracted to the larger, red-colored, glowing button right next to the aforementioned green one instead. In fact, not just attracted…I activated it. Pity I wasn't informed about the consequences of such a rash decision beforehand.

The engines came to life and the ship lurched forward suddenly before halting once again. Needless to say, not having fastened the seatbelt hanging off the nearby wall, I flew out, face forward, into the control panel. As enraged as I was, however, I must admit that my run in with the said control panel was a rather educational experience as I learned two very valuable lessons. First off: seatbelts aren't installed for decorative purposes; they're actually meant to be used. And second: the red button of doom that my brash finger decided—of its own accord, of course—to press, was not as nameless as I originally thought. It had a nice, pretty given name written out in white right under the damn thing… 'ACCELERATION.'

I think my mouth got as far as forming a soon-to-be 'oh-oh' before I was rather rudely interrupted by the sound of my own head connecting with the back wall, which I was unceremoniously thrown against after the ship decided to suddenly lurch forward once again. This time, though, it didn't stop after the initial push but kept with the momentum, increasing its speed at an alarming rate as I barely registered the quickly moving scenery outside the circular, half-assed excuse for a window.

Don't ask; because, I wouldn't be able to explain exactly how I managed to crawl back to the controls even if I tried. The only thing that I can say, however, is that I got there just in time to swerve this unnecessarily oversized, metal monster away from one of the towers of Castle Oblivion, which it was, ever so determinedly, flying towards. The machine was contemplating suicide, I swear!

Ahem, anyway…dramatics aside, I was rather pleased with myself at having narrowly evaded my second death. Can you blame me?

Not that I was betting on my survival or anything. I did have seventy-two hours of babysitting ahead of my ever-so lucky persona. Managing to control the ship was child's play and rather faded in comparison to my upcoming deathtrap.

Sighing heavily, I turned on the familiar-looking radar display, which erupted into a flurry of bleeps and vibrant colors. Searching through the command screen I was able, with no particular headache (thankfully), find the accursed Planet with its unwanted treasure which my path was set towards. At the Northern edge of the monitor, in large green letters, was written that one title which I had the feeling I would never like to see again…if I survived long enough, that is.

Port Royal.

Directing the ship by the lead of instructions that were running down the glowing screen, I managed to find my destination with minimal amount of effort. Not that I would have missed the bloody World even if I so wanted to…which I did, admittedly.

The place screamed with the need for modern ramifications due to the flurry of old dresses, cobble stone streets, and—oh, god forbid! Was that really?—wooden ships which swam into my line of vision the closer I got. The whole dismal scenery was shrouded with gray clouds and angry streaks of barely perceptible lightning, which were uncharacteristically faded in comparison to what I've had the pleasure of witnessing in The World that Never Was. Oh, and here's what really took the cake: it was raining.

It was raining!

Trust my luck to move from wretched to unbearable.

But seeing as floating above the Planet wasn't going to accomplish much of anything besides perhaps running out of fuel and crashing—not that I was quite convinced an accident was avoidable even with a proper amount of fuel still in the tank—I decided to direct the ship to a landing at the docks—which was, as I later found, a mistake.

Missing my aim by a good thirteen meters and conveniently forgetting that the brakes were still available to me, I allowed—with not much of a choice on my part, mind you—the ship to descend, full speed, straight into the dark waters of the sea.

Now, let's analyze that situation, shall we?

A pyromaniac…in cold water…am I the only one who finds something very wrong with that picture?

Impacting the water was, admittedly, not the most pleasant of experiences I can recall living through. My seat rocked forward, practically making it impossible for me to twist away from the control panel which dug into my stomach as the result of the collision, effectively pinning me in-between itself and my seat. I was spared, however, the tremendous pleasure of staying in such a position much longer due to the water which quickly found its way through the ship's mechanisms and inside the main chamber. My metallic acquaintance slowed to a crawl due to the added weight, allowing me to finally wretch myself free of the control panel and the chair.

Now, however, I was faced with a much larger issue. The salty liquid was filling up the compartment rather quickly, and I, obviously, was still inside it.

Do pardon my lack of enthusiasm at the prospect of drowning, won't you?

Indeed, I was up and about the ship, searching for an exit the moment my mind caught up to the events, consequences, and disturbing implications. Thankfully, my eyes soon landed on the sad excuse of a window, which alerted me to the fact that judging by the up-flowing current, I was continuing to sink. Trudging over to it through the, now, water-covered floor of the cabin, I managed to wretch it open.

The seawater made its way into the ship immediately through the new opening, and it took all of my strength to squeeze past the current and into the sea. Gulping down as much oxygen as my lung capacity allowed, I plunged out of the destroyed vessel and began my arduous journey towards the surface. Chanting a quick Eulogy for the poor piece of metal that I was leaving behind, I was successful in breaking the aforementioned surface, much to my relief, before doing something as embarrassing as feinting from the lack of air.

Not that the face that greeted me at the docks was any more welcome than sweet oblivion.

She was wet, she was scowling, and her arms were crossed over her chest in the most typical of huffy mannerisms. Her hair was in disarray, and her dress looked more crumpled than etiquette would have perhaps expected, but it was most certainly her.

Elizabeth Swann.

Now I really wasn't so sure who I was supposed to be chanting a Eulogy for: the ship…or myself.

Author's Note:

Please do pardon the lack of updates! I was very much busy with final exams in school and my conservatory. I promise, this kind of prolonged wait will not be forced upon you again ;) I hope that this chapter was no less enjoyable, though there has yet to be interaction between Axel and Elizabeth! This was sort of a fill in, meant simply to entertain, not containing much plot; once again, do pardon. The next chapter will, hopefully, come sooner and be longer. Ah, yes, and include lots of Axel and Elizabeth :) I would still adore to hear your thoughts, however, if you aren't all that angry with me as of yet!

-Thanks.

bubblegum x princess: Sarcasm is the way I live and breath…no, it's definitely not going to be cut back:) Admittedly, Elizabeth annoys me just as much as she seems to irritate you; however, she has a temper. I can always embellish on that and cut back on the sentimentality…in fact, that's kind of my plan!