Again, I'm sorry about the wait. This chapter was hard to write. It wasn't a matter of words, it was a matter of state of mind. I had to be inside the Smiling Demon's head. It's not a very nice place.

Sora watched out through the window in growing wonder as a police car sped towards his apartment. He'd heard the sirens a while ago, but had just come to realise that they were coming for him. When he'd dialled emergency the lady who'd answered had sounded bored but efficient. All that suddenly changed when he mentioned it was a missing persons case. Her voice had suddenly tensed up, if that was possible. She'd asked the victim's age, and for a description. And if anything else unusual had happened. He had described the knife that was still stuck in his door with the attached message Then she'd asked his address. And then she'd told him that he should prepare to receive a visit. He had no idea they responded like this to routine missing persons cases. He was about to find out it was anything but.

He'd been standing on the landing outside when the police arrived. They were both older men, one large and black, one small and white. He knew they couldn't be standard dispatch. At the very least they didn't look like it. They looked dangerous. They quickly saw him, the short one walked over to him and in a funny nasal wheeze introduced himself as Lieutenant Duck, and introduced the other man as Lieutenant Gregory. Lieutenant Gregory was now examining the knife in the door with great interest and speaking rapidly into his radio. Meanwhile Duck asked Sora in excruciating detail about Kairi. When he'd last seen her, what she'd been wearing, where she worked, where she might have disappeared. A barrage of questions which Sora answered without pausing to think. There something in the way the questions were being asked that suggested urgency. He was glad Kairi would get all the help the police could offer but wondered why it was all so important. Finally the questions stopped just as Sora heard sirens again, he knew they were getting closer. He knew this wasn't normal. Duck paused for a second and listened to his radio. Sora just made out "... bring him in...". Ice raced though his veins. They couldn't think he had anything to do with it, could they? Yes, it dawned on him they could, in fact he was probably prime suspect right now.

Lieutenant Duck turned to talk to Sora.

"Mr Skye, I'd like you to come down to the station with me,"

Sora was outraged, "I didn't do anything. My girlfriend is missing. I want her back, could you focus on that?"

"It's a simple chat sir, you aren't a suspect. Our boss would really like to talk to you though,"

"Well if you know it's not me, why arrest me?" As Sora watched, something in Lieutenant Duck snapped. His voice suddenly turned icy,

"Listen son, I didn't say I was arresting you, I said I'd like you to. My boss needs to speak to you right away and does not need to drive out here to do it. Yes, if you want to play it that way we could leave, come back with a warrant and arrest you, but that would take time your girlfriend hasn't got. You're too young to know, but she's in deep trouble. Every goddamn second counts, why do you think we got here so fast?" Other people had come out onto the landing now, brought like moths to a flame by the prospect of drama. "So by all means, play hard to get, and we can come back and make you miserable, or you can come with us, and talk to our boss, nice and friendly because he really needs to ask you a few questions. It's your call."

Cowed completely, Sora agreed.

The second batch of officers had barely arrived before Lieutenants Duck and Gregory were whisking Sora down stairs and into their squad car.

In silence the public watched on.

"Leon..." Selphie started. The man in question looked back. it had been just minutes since Don and Goofy had left to interview the kid who'd phoned in.

"Mmm?" He seemed absorbed in the cards on the page he was examining, she'd have to ask him what he saw, or thought he saw eventually.

"Why are Don and Goofy so..."

"Gruff?"

"Kind of," She spoke hesitantly, like she was stepping around broken glass.

"You heard what Don said. They were there that day,"

"That doesn't feel like the whole story." He turned and looked her

"You're right, but does it really matter?"

"We're going to be working with them I need to know if they're going to lose it. Goofy looks..."

"Scary?"

"Yeah, why do you call him Goofy anyway?"

"I suppose so, alright, well the rest of the story is as sad as the start, those two used to be regular cops, Goofy used to smile if you can believe it. What happened, was Prophecy. Goofy's wife was one of his first abductions,"

"Jesus,"

"Yeah, And two of Don's nieces. They died in that fire. The casualties of that day were high as I said back there, among them were Goofy's sense of humour and his hair."

"Seriously?"

"It all just fell out, afterwards. Doctor said it was due to the grief. I can believe it. Afterwards, they were changed men. They volunteered together to take up the beat in Southern Prole. Back then that area was known for sex crime. Women couldn't go there at night. It was all filth. The papers called it the human sewage center,"

"Are you talking about that lively downtown area? Feels safer than just about anywhere else I've been,"

"Exactly my point, they did that,"

"Wow,"

"It gets more interesting than that. While crime inexplicably fell, the arrest rate didn't move so much as an iota. On the other hand, the amount of fatal shootings by officers in self-defence showed a huge spike."

"Are you saying...?"

"Yep,"

"Shouldn't they have been pulled off the street?"

"Probably, but who wants to stick up for gang-bangers, paedophiles and rapists? You? They cleaned those streets up. It's now a tourist precinct. And even if you tried, you can't prove anything. Don's much too smart to get caught,"

"It still doesn't feel right to me,"

"Suit yourself, you asked for the whole story, you got it."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend," Selphie could see Leon was troubled by the whole exchange.

Leon sighed deeply. "I know, I don't like their methods either but this is one situation where I can't think of two other people I'd like to have on our side more,"

Selphie didn't know what to say to that. She busied herself in the book Leon had given her to look at. The section on Tarot fascinated her, and not just because of the case.

Leon went back to the paper. Selphie wondered what he was looking for. Apparently he was the expert at interpreting these messages but he just kept looking. Like the paper might suddenly morph into a signed confession, with directions to an evil hideout.

Minutes passed in silence. Selphie reflected that this case was probably above her pay grade. She was a criminal psychologist, not a fortune teller. Sighing, she propped the book open to a reference page for the cards and plucked up the courage to question Leon's methods.

"What are you trying to see?" She said hesitantly.

"You haven't seen this yet, I'd almost forgotten, you see the thing about Prophecy is he never plays by the rules. Especially not of his chosen medium. He could never resist a chance to prove he was smarter than us by subtly changing the game. Have a look at this," Leon moved over and placed the sheet on the table in front of Selphie. The six images stared back. Six cards that were supposed to help them somehow.

"What do you see, detective?"

"Well, uh, that first one's Justice. He's sent it upside down, so I guess he means it's reversed, that next one is The Hanged Man, that's been reversed too. Then there's Death, again reversed. That next one is The Devil, and then there's the Chariot. Those two seem linked, he's drawn a line in between them," Leon nodded, "And finally, The Tower."

"That's all very good, but what do you think it means?"

"Well, Justice reversed is obvious. He's saying there is no justice. And The Hanged Man means the sacrifice of an innocent, so reversed it would mean... a false sacrifice? Death's easy; he's telling us he's not dead. The devil, well that represents evil so I'd say he's talking about himself and he's linked it with the Chariot which means victory. So... he wins. And finally the Tower represents a tragic event. So, the first abduction?"

"That was about what I expected, but you're a way off yet. That book's got a reference at the back with the pictures of these cards, would you turn to it?" Selphie obliged, wondering what she had wrong.

"Right, the first card, Justice, you said reversed it means that there's no justice. Well that's a bit off, reversed does not mean the opposite of, reversed means the card is in someway obstructed or blocked. He's not saying there's no justice, he's telling us the course of justice has been perverted. Likewise, The Hanged Man reversed, is a foolish sacrifice. But that's not the Hanged Man reversed."

"It's not?"

"No, have a look at the picture in the book, what's changed?"

It took Selphie a few seconds to figure it out.

"The text, the actual name, it's at the bottom, it should be at the top. "

"Right, he's not showing us the hanged man, he's showing us a crucified man. More importantly look at the picture,"

Selphie did as instructed and was horrified by what she'd missed.

"Is that...?"

"Yeah, that's Vince. On the cross. This was his message to Vince, to let him know that his sacrifices were in vain. Moving on, contrary to popular opinion, Death does not actually mean death,"

"It doesn't?"

"No, it's more about change and cycles, so reversed it's more of a nothing's changed, or rather change has been disrupted. You were right about the devil and the chariot, however take a closer look at the picture."

"I don't see it." She said after a minute,

"Go back to the originals." He suggested.

She did so, and soon figured out what she had missed.

"The Devil, he's got two women instead of the more traditional male and female. Also the man in the Chariot's face seems to have been painted over with a smiley face."

"Good, He's the devil and he takes only women is what he's saying. The devil is also associated with bondage by ignorance or lack of knowledge. I think he might be taunting us about our problems with the archives. Worse, I think he's responsible."

"How?"

"I haven't got the faintest idea. I need three kinds of clearance to get down there. How he got in is a complete mystery. On to The Chariot, you're right about the face but that means nothing to me. Yet. He's also painted the eyes of the sphinx's blue."
"What?" Selphie looked again. At first it was indistinct, but slowly the eyes of the two sphinx's looked more and more blue, arriving somewhere between blue and purple.

"I don't know what that means just yet, it's probably something about his victims and it's definitely not good. Finally, you got the Tower's general meaning spot on, but missed the picture change."

Selphie was getting fairly sick of not getting it by now she was however in awe of Leon's ability to notice these minor details. She looked at the tower, only it wasn't a tower. It looked too squat. Too much like a warehouse, and the people...

"Who are they?" Selphie asked.

"Zack and Aerith," Leon said heavily.

"Who?"

"It's a short story but what's important is, this is a parting shot. I think this one's the one that convinced Vince to pull the trigger."

"That's... tragic."

"Tell me about it."

Selphie was left with more questions than answers. She was about to ask Leon to talk more about the cards, when Mickey strode in.

"Leon you're up. Don and Goofy are back with that kid,"

Selphie sighed, she'd just have to wait.

In the chair, the prisoner writhed. Whoever she was dealing with, angel, demon, God, Satan or something worse, they knew what they were doing. She had cried bitter tears for hours after he left. She always did. She could still feel them on her cheeks, lingering ghosts of a forgotten tragedy. And that's exactly what it was, forgotten. The game, like her rape, like most of what happened after, like almost everything else since she had arrived was filed somewhere in her brain under do not remember. Only her hard won facts stuck. Only the facts mattered. She knew that now.

Since that first vicious attack he had come twice more. Each time he brought more facets of her that were incorrect into the spotlight. These fallacies, the lies others had told her, were slowly being beaten out of her in ways she couldn't remember and for reasons unknown.

Sora, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, if I ever see you again, you need to know. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault.

She was tired, hungry, thirsty and hurting. Every inch of her ached, partly from unknown blows she still felt all over her body. And partly due to the periodic internal spasms. Ugly bruises littered her arms, her legs, her chest. She didn't know how her face looked, there wasn't a reflective surface in easy view. There was the water bowl, but she couldn't get to it because she was tied to the chair. But the past was not important, nor was the knowledge that he would soon return to play three more times. All that mattered in this dark nightmare were the facts. The facts were not true, and the part of Kairi that was still Kairi knew this. But the prisoner, the one who Kairi had become was not interested. The prisoner needed only the facts. The facts were commandments. The facts were life. The facts were the answers. The answers were a way to stop some of the pain. She knew there were twenty answers. Right now, she only had nine. Nine she kept repeating in her head. Nine to memorise. Nine to replace the truth. As far as the prisoner was concerned they were the truth. The truth would do her no good in this place.

The prisoner moaned as she came again. Pleasure washed through her in waves.

I'm such a dirty slut. I'm not worth anybody's love.

She could hear her juices landing in the bucket below her. To her shame, it was no longer the thud of an impact on plastic, but a sound suggesting that there was enough already there that the drips no longer touched the bottom. The machine purred mercilessly on.

Unlike so many other things, the prisoner could remember the arrival of the machine.

It had been right after she had won her first three facts. She was ashamed of the way she had cried in front of him now. She was ashamed that she had ever cried in front of anyone. She should have been happy, she had some answers. But she hadn't been. And she felt guilty about that.

After her first game, the demon had pushed the chair over, forwards. She still remembered the terror of not being able to stop the fall. But he had saved her. Not because she was worth saving, but because he wanted her face intact. The chair had halted it's brief and terrifying descent with her nose an inch above the ground. Her shoulders had hurt for hours after that. She had started crying again. She should have been grateful, of this the prisoner was ashamed.

He had lowered her gently the remaining distance and left her resting there, still tied to the chair on her forehead and knees, while he rummaged in his bag. She couldn't see what he was doing, her imagination ran rampant with possibilities as panic set in. She was frigid with sweat and fear before the rustling stopped. When it finally did it felt as if her heart might have too. Her every nerve jangled in nervous, fearful anticipation. And it was due to this that she squeaked when she felt something cold and plastic press against her exposed rear entrance. It wasn't particularly large, nor particularly painful, and it didn't go more than a couple of centimeters in. This lead to endless questions, most of which were answered seconds later when it most unpleasantly began to spray an almost sharp jet of fluid into her. She gasped with shock, but soon enough the spray was dwindling, leaving a most uncomfortable sensation in her lower digestive system. Then he'd yanked the chair upright again, further wrenching her already aching shoulders. He was still holding the intruding object, a small disposable syringe. It wasn't much of a stretch from there to figure out just what he'd done to her. But the why of it had eluded her, why on earth would he want to give her an enema?

"I don't want to get my equipment dirty," She was shocked for a second, it was almost if he'd read her mind. Then she'd started hurling abuse at him. Of this too the prisoner now felt guilty.

She'd called him every abusive term she knew, but he'd just laughed it off. Then, before he left, he'd turned and brandished his riding crop at her. And like a trained dog, she'd fallen immediately silent. He'd picked up the bucket and placed it under the chair. Well now at least she knew why it was a toilet seat. He'd left with an almost obscene giggle and a promise to return within the hour.

At first she thought it wasn't working, but then the pains in her stomach started, followed by bloating. The feeling built, and built until she couldn't hold it any longer. She had to let go.

He returned maybe twenty minutes later, but she couldn't be sure. Time ran differently in this place.

"All done?" That stupid, juvenile, terrifying smile mocked her. She imagined it calling her dirty and disgusting. Although she couldn't be sure if it was her imagination. She was too tired to figure it out. Her fighting spirit had left her again, along with the contents of her bowel.

He rustled in his bag again. That black bag of tricks. She didn't hate it though, nor fear it. It was all him. He'd got out a container full of baby wipes and without ceremony cleaned off the areas sullied by her recent actions. She'd squirmed but had felt better for it. This smiling enigma was many things but at least he respected hygiene. He tossed the results into the bucket, and pulled it out from under her.

"You're a messy one," He said offhandedly. She had no idea why that stung her so much. He rustled in the bag again, and she wondered exactly how much he kept in there. Time passed, he looked like he was untangling something. She tried not to let her fear build. But she couldn't help it. It was like she knew he was about to introduce a new torment to her. And she wasn't wrong.

When he eventually got whatever it was free, it only looked like a lot of wiring. But then her eyes began to pick out odd features, a solid appendage here, a bulb there. And it all still meant nothing to her. But then he turned to face her, and she knew it wasn't anything good.

As he began to affix it to her, she came to figure out "His equipment,". It had four appendages, or endings. Two of them were small round pads. One was a larger... thing. It was black and visibly smooth and rounded, a weird shape vaguely reminiscent of a baby's pacifier. At one end it was almost phallic, though considerably more bulbous and at the other was a large flat disc. Connecting the two was a short, cylindrical shaft, considerably narrower than the other two parts. The final appendage was a lot less of a mystery. It was shaped very obviously and at a base level, like a cock. A scary, chimera cock. It was quite unlike any other Kairi had ever seen. It had flared and rounded protrusions, at odd points along the shaft, all facing one way. It was weirdly shaped, and had an extra "limb", that protruded from the cylindrical base. It looked more like a torture device than a thing of pleasure. Then she remembered who would be operating said device and realised it probably was.

"You'll see," He said ominously. He'd only followed her gaze, but to a scared, tired Kairi it began to feel like he could read her mind. She experimented by mentally projecting vast amounts of hate his way. If he had felt, he did not show it. He was too busy wiring her. He was attaching the wires to her with tape. She followed them with her eyes now that they were distinct. A wire that split into two was being taped at intervals to snake up her chest, where it split into two wires that dead ended in the pads. When he was done he affixed the pads to her nipples. The lower wiring was hard to make out, but she no longer needed to. If the chimera-thing was going in the obvious way, then the other would be going in her freshly vacated bowels. She gulped, she doubted the thing would even fit. Desperate for a distraction, she followed the wires the other way, and noticed they finished in a black box that was about the size of a car battery. The box's sole defining feature was a large dial, with markings she couldn't make out. She didn't need to read them, she could guess. Her throat suddenly felt dry.

When he stepped back to admire his work she was still trying to adjust to the sensation of fullness that now pervaded her being. It was both uncomfortable and extremely comfortable. Contrary to her initial analysis, the insertion had hardly hurt at all. Against all her expectations he'd been careful, slow and gentle. He'd even lubricated it. And the chimera device, well, it was a revelation. It had been a bit uncomfortable at first, but he's made some adjustments, a few twists. And then it was like the stars came into alignment. It pressed against her in odd, sensitive places she hadn't even known she had. That weird extra limb had come to press against her clit. She had to remind herself that this machine's inventor tortured her for fun. She remembered clearly that in that moment, her thoughts had flashed to Sora. And she had been flooded with shame and guilt. She had been kidnapped, and was being raped multiply by proxy. This shouldn't feel good. But it did. That's when he switched it on.

Her vision actually dimmed for a second as the device was switched on, and she was suddenly pleasured. Immensely. It was like a bomb had gone off inside her. She gasped repeatedly for air as her heart rate sky-rocketed. It was a perfect, pleasure machine. The vibrations hit her anywhere and everywhere it felt good, she couldn't begin to analyse the ways or places in which she was being stimulated. She felt herself rapidly approaching orgasm before she had fully realised what had happened. The first time the machine had it's way with her, she had screamed. And that's when the Smiling Demon pounced.

"Enjoying it you little whore?" He leant over and whispered in her ear, "I thought I knew what I was taking, but it turns out you're easier than I expected," His words were poison in her ears, and a virus in her mind. Each had stung her, each made her think painful thoughts. "You were so quick to come, did you even think of those you say love you, what would your boyfriend think?" The involuntary image of Sora cut deep into her soul. She felt guilty, inescapably so. She had to fight back tears. It hurt, her. A large part of Kairi died in those few moments. And the prisoner rose to take it's place. "What would your mother think?" Ignoring the fact that she knew she'd never met her real mother, Kairi's thoughts flashed to Rikku. And then Terra. Even Axel. Every flash was intense, bringing stabbing pangs of guilt and shame. "You've betrayed them all, not one of them will want you back." The part of Kairi that still existed had tried to fight, to make her see. He was exploiting her at her weakest, at her most distracted. And the prisoner ate it all up. Again he'd amazed her, and hurt her. Those venomous words, in that honeyed voice. It just made it all the more believable. She began to cry. He left her like that, with the machine running. It wasn't long before she came again. And again. Every time, it was followed by waves of pain, shame and guilt that slowly chipped away at what was left of Kairi. She'd thought she was out of tears. She'd been wrong again.

The memory stung the prisoner. The machine still hummed inside her. She'd tried to fight it, but t seemed it like it worked better when she fought. Eventually it became a fact. Since then he'd returned many times. She didn't know how long she'd been hooked up to this thing. Sometimes he fed her, sometimes he gave her water which she realised she quickly depleted. Sometimes he let her relieve herself. Sometimes he just came down and abused her, calling her names and telling her why she should feel bad. Sometimes he beat her, the pain and pleasure mingling in her quivering body. Sometimes he played the game. The game was harder hooked up to a device that overrode most thought. But she'd adapted. She kept the facts in her head. She had to.

1. I have no name. Names are for people, I am not a person.

2. I am a toy. An object to be used for his pleasure.

3. He always tells the truth. He is good to me if I behave.

4. Nobody ever wanted me.

5. Nobody misses me.

6. Nobody ever loved me.

7. Nobody remembers me.

8. Nobody is looking for me.

9. I will never be free, but there is freedom in a cell.

The prisoner repeated this list over and over in her head. The price of failure in the game was high. Last time he had burned her with candle wax. And there were still eleven answers that had to be found through taking his punishments. And she was drowning in guilt and shame for her sins. And still, what was left of Kairi raged inside the prisoners head, but not so loudly that she couldn't drown it out. She had to drown Kairi out. It was for her own good.

Alright, I'm tired. Again, so I'll keep this brief. Yes I'm confident I need my head examined. Yes my villain is a bastard. I find it really hard to write some of this stuff.

Yes, Sora is the main character but he's sidelined by plot development beyond his control. No, we aren't anywhere near the end. Yes I don't update fast enough. Yes, I'll try to get faster.

Also. In lieu of my usual review rant, Please, tell me how you think I'm doing. I beg you.

Also, Longest chapter in one published to date. Also 5 chapters is a new milestone for me. *Happy Dance*

Also, Paradise Avenger gets a shout out for giving me a plug in her story. And for the fact she makes up more than half of my reviews. Some people can't be praised enough.

So Read, Review and Most Importantly: Enjoy!

Yours Sincerely

Everhopeful83