Chapter three: Strange things are happening.
The afternoon sun beat down on the worn paving stones of the sandlot, the courtyard devoid of all noise but for the heaving gasps of the teenager slumped on a peeling bench. A slight breeze circled the arid space, alleviating the heat of the day somewhat, but did nothing for the burning flush in Roxas' cheeks. He had collapsed onto the seat after a frenzied dash through the twisting side streets, bypassing the entrance to their spot completely in his agitation, and only slowing when forced to decide between the multiple exits from the sandlot, a task that required some sort of rational input. He put his head in his hands, attempting to wrestle his panicked brain into a state of calm so that he could make some sense of what had just happened. Shuddering breaths wheezed through his unnaturally tight throat, the inside of his mouth coated in saliva from the run and the nausea that roiled in his gut. He forced his rapid gasps into a long, shuddering exhale, head dropping into his hands and whirling thoughts subsiding somewhat as his breathing gradually slowed. He should get off the bench, should calm down and walk back to their usual spot, see his friends…
"We were best friends… Axel? He's our best friend too, why…"
Fragments of the cloaked girl's conversation struck the relative peace of his mind, the familiar images of Hayner, Pence and Olette shattering into the afterimage of distressed indigo eyes. His head shot up as he inhaled sharply, but he exhaled determinedly once more; refusing to relinquish the scant control he held over his respiration. His encounter with the weird girl had shaken him more than he would care to admit, and the bizarre conversation continued to assault his thoughts.
"Aaaarrrgh…"
A few startled blackbirds took off in a rustle of feathers as Roxas yelled in frustration, rising determinedly to his feet, and savagely steering his thoughts back to his friends. Hayner. Pence. Olette. They would have gathered in the usual spot by now, and probably would be wondering where he was. He set off, mind focused on his trio of friends, nobody else, feet traversing the familiar path without any real cranial input. The unknown thief had been a real hot topic lately, and Hayner would probably be complaining about their reputation again, paranoid that everyone would start blaming them for everything. And if Seifer had anything to do with things, everyone probably would…
"Just somebody Seifer paid to mess with us… maybe you're the one that's been stealing stuff all over town…"
He slowed, allowing himself to run through the accusations he had shouted at the stranger. There had been no real thought behind them; simply accusations that he had blurted out in an attempt to rationalize her impossible (uncomfortably familiar) claims. The sick feeling in his stomach lessened, the ache in his throat beginning to disappear as things started to make some sort of convoluted sense to Roxas. The thief, the rivalry between Hayner and Seifer, who had a history of dirty tricks and shady friends… maybe the cloaked girl had something to do with it? The way she had grabbed him, yelling weird stuff that freaked him out… could those have been distractive techniques so that leave him shaken and distracted? Maybe… maybe she had even been trying to rob him! He had a vague sense that people in black cloaks were bad news; perhaps he had heard that from another townsperson? She could be the thief! His eyes widened, his slouching stride quickening as he thought it over– this all made perfect sense! If it was true, then he could identify the thief, placate Hayner, save their reputations and brag that he had survived an encounter with the robber – he quickly patted his pockets – unscathed!
By the time he arrived at the chain-link fence, Roxas was absentmindedly whistling, switching between thinking over his theory about the black-cloaked girl (who was most definitely the thief), and his strategies for the upcoming Struggle competition. Twitching aside the curtain, he ducked away from the bright afternoon light, and into the cosy shade of their usual spot. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth; the soothing presence of his best friends erasing the last traces of his agitation from that morning as he began to recall his encounter with the thief.
"Hey guys! I just met the weirdest girl and you are not gonna believe who I…think…"
His sentence trailed off as he stared at his friends, none of whom had stopped their conversation to look at him, completely ignoring his arrival. His contentment dipped as he settled onto a vacant box near Olette's sofa, his smile dropping into a bemused pout at the lack of acknowledgement. His frown deepened as they continued to ignore him, and it struck him that he couldn't quite make out what they were saying, despite his proximity to the three. He grimaced as he noticed a faint buzzing in his ears, and leaned towards a wildly gesticulating Hayner in an attempt to hear their muted conversation…only to jerk back as Hayner swung to face him with a strange look in his eyes.
"Man, doesn't that tick you off?"
Roxas' mouth dropped open, shocked by his spontaneous introduction to their discussion, and Hayner's complete disregard for his greeting. He shook his head slightly and made to speak, only for Pence to cut across him and reply to Hayner's question;
"Yeah, that's just wrong."
If possible, Roxas' jaw dropped even further, his thoughts a tumultuous mess as he attempted to understand why his friends were completely ignoring him. He closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly. The strange girl this morning, his friends giving him the silent treatment… was this a dream? He suddenly became aware of the lack of noise, and looked up to find his three companions staring at him expectantly. He flushed, a slight stutter present in his speech;
"Uhhhh…. Yeah, I-I don't really know what…what're we talking abo-"
Hayner suddenly jumped to his feet, startling Roxas into silence once more as he began to pace the small boundaries of their usual spot.
"I mean, its true that stuff's been stolen around town, and we've got a score…"
Roxas could only stare helplessly as his best friend began to complain about Seifer and their reputation, refusing to even look at the other blonde as he strode back and forth. Shifting sideways on his crate, Roxas attempted to catch his friends' eyes… only to notice their total lack of expression. Olette and Pence were both staring into space, their gaze only sharpening when Hayner passed in front of them. Hayner himself sounded to be on the verge of spitting in fury at their tarnished reputations, his arms waving wildly, but his eyes were curiously vacant. An expectant silence pervaded their space once again as Hayner came to a halt in front of Roxas, staring at him as if expecting an answer. Screwing his eyes shut for a moment, Roxas struggled to recall the point of Hayner's speech… something about tracking down a culprit and clearing their names? He had been prepared to point fingers at the girl from the plaza, but with Hayner's current mood, he was liable to simply dash through the door, and track down and interrogate every dark-clothed girl in Twilight Town. Perhaps he could gradually work towards revealing the girl as the culprit, and in the meantime, allow Hayner to calm down…
"Uh, well… we could… find the real thief?"
He was relieved when the trio actually allowed him time to consider and deliver his sentence before speaking, Hayner interrupting Olette's praise to shout about Seifer as Pence disappeared off into the corner of their hideaway. Smiling, Roxas surveyed his friends. The clamour of voices, this chaotic sharing of ideas… this was more like their usual meetings. He relaxed slightly, slumping back against the wall. Perhaps he had been imagining the strange, blank expressions… maybe the ignoring act was another of Hayner's less well-thought-out pranks, although this one reminded him uncomfortably of Seifer's callous sense of humour…
"Oh no! They're gone! Our _ are gone!"
…Or perhaps there really was something bizarre going on today.
His friends had moved to stand in a loose circle, facing each other and shouting at the top of their lungs, their words punctuated with random silent gaps. Roxas straightened, rising slowly to his feet as he stared at the trio. His friends continued to ignore him, but as he approached them hesitantly, they swung around as one to face him with an expectant air. He froze, struck dumb by the strange turn of events. Silence pervaded the air.
"Uhhhh…"
Hayner folded his arms and stared at him, his face contorting into a bemused scowl.
"What kinda thief is that? Seifer could never have pulled that off."
Roxas stumbled backwards, knocking the back of his knees against something hard. He collapsed back onto his crate, burying his head in his hands. The nauseating sense of unease twisted his stomach, the sickening feeling he had managed to quell earlier returning with a vengeance. He vaguely heard Hayner mention something about recon, and looked up to where they had been standing, face red with embarrassment and annoyance.
"Look, guys, this really isn't funny… anymore…"
His words hung in the empty space before him, Olette passing by his side as the trio ran through the exit. He stared straight ahead, stunned, as the echoes of his friends' laughter faded to nothing in the underlit depths of their hideout. The low lighting pressed in on him, the cloth-covered walls and miscellaneous furniture now claustrophobic without his friends' presences to push back the shadows. This had to be some kind of sick joke, right? It had to be…
He remained slumped on the crate for an undeterminable amount of time, his stomach continuing to roil as time passed, and his attempts to rationalize his friends' behaviour became less and less enthusiastic. Seconds became minutes, which became something like an hour, and still the trio didn't return. Shaking his head, Roxas compressed his lips into a thin line and stood, plodding to the exit and twitching aside the curtain. The warm sun twinkled mockingly, high above the abandoned street before him. He scowled. If this was the game they wanted to play (he hoped beyond hope that this was some kind of twisted game), then he could make a move or two himself.
Turning, he began to march up the street, removing himself from the door to their hideout before they returned (if they returned). Roxas stamped towards the tunnels, intending to avoid his friends for the rest of the day. He turned off his phone as he walked - let them experience the feeling of being ignored. His ire gradually faded as he continued along the streets, however, his sense of disquiet steadily increasing. Twilight Town was completely deserted, the streets empty and the surrounding buildings devoid of noise. Despite the lack of people, however, the feeling of being watched sent ceaseless shivers along his spine, and he stopped to glance around him more than once.
He stopped dead when he realised that he had entered the sunset plaza, and looked around frantically for the cloaked girl from earlier. He was relieved to note her absence, but also slightly perturbed: her presence had kickstarted the chain of strange happenings of the morning, but at least she had spoken to him like a proper human, no matter how senseless her conversation.
Looking around hopelessly, he headed for the entrance to the tunnels, but paused before passing into the shadows. Scanning the plaza once more, he shivered at the total lack of noise in the afternoon air. It was the last week of summer vacation: where was everybody? He was struck by the sudden urge to get out of the town, to leave behind the strangeness of the morning and the bizarre silence of the now, if only for a few minutes. The train station entrance sat enticingly in the corner of his field of vision, but he found himself instead stepping through the looming entrance to the tunnels. His journey was swift, despite his lack of a destination, and he emerged from the tunnels in a matter of minutes. With his eyes shaded against the sudden stab of light, he saw that he had emerged into Tram Common.
People milled in the distance, the first signs of life present since Hayner, Pence and Olette. He moved as if to wave, taking one halting step forwards, but the image of his friends and their vacant, unseeing eyes flickered to the forefront of his mind. He hesitated, then turned, passing the various shops and heading towards the far boundary wall. The sensation of being watched increased yet again, the back of his neck tingling. Turning his head slightly, he was greeted with the sight of a small crowd gathered around the synthesis shop. A steadily growing crowd. A crowd composed of people now looking straight at him. He turned back, his walk becoming a jog. A low murmur filled the air, and his jog became a full-out sprint. A steady litany of "Get out get out get out" replaced his thoughts, the lurking nausea attacking his stomach in full force. He dashed for the town boundary, his eyes raking the bricks for the distinctive gap… There! He didn't dare look back, the murmur now a dull roar, as he jumped forward and forced his body through the gap in the wall that led to the forest.
Stopping at a fallen tree, Roxas collapsed to a seat and attempted to control his breathing for the second time that day. The sense of mindless terror had loosed its grip on him as he had sprinted through the silent woods, but anxiety still clenched his stomach and tightened his throat. He peered over his shoulder, searching the shadowy tree trunks for any sign of life, but the woods remained empty. The sensation of being watched had faded, but he still felt the occasional prickle across the back of his neck. He swung his feet distractedly, looking down as he considered what to do next. The toe of one sneaker brushed over the crushed remains of a small patch of bluebells, and he coloured slightly at the unwarranted destruction of the flowers. Wait.
He looked up sharply, his eyes moving from the flattened flowers to the trampled grass beside them, then to a displaced patch of woodland debris and beyond. A trail of destruction, greenery agitated in his frenzied run, leading away from him… directly to the town entrance. It would be child's play for anyone seeking him to simply follow it. Shuddering, he heaved himself off the log, taking care to step only where he had stepped before. The log was only ever meant to be a temporary respite, and now he had more reason than ever to move on – taking a great deal more care this time.
The silence continued as he began to walk away from the log, absent-mindedly dodging foliage, but he didn't allow his guard to drop. There were no empty-eyed friends or murmuring crowds present, true, but the shifting and rustling of the plants, and the deep shadows in the denser areas of the woods, carried a different danger to the strange feeling in Twilight Town. He often found himself looking over his shoulder, ears tuned to strange noises amidst the whisper of the trees as he continued his trek through the woods. It was this constant state of alert, however, that very nearly caused his downfall. In hearing a noise behind him, Roxas had whirled to scan his surroundings, hands curled into fists. He narrowed his eyes, staring into the gloom around him, but saw – and heard – nothing. Relaxing his stance, he turned back in the direction he had been walking, and was greeted with a large fist hurtling towards his face.
Roxas let out a yell of shock, his legs collapsing beneath him and the fist passing harmlessly over his head. His body somehow continued the dropping movement, his chin tucking into his chest as he rolled forward, bypassing his assailant. He emerged from the roll and spun on one leg to face his attacker his other leg shooting out behind him to steady his stance as his right hand inexplicably shot out to the side, his fingers moving as if to grip something. He looked up, straightening and shaking out his fingers, then dropped his arm and backed away, struck dumb at the sight of his colossal attacker.
"Gah! Youse keybearin' brats and your fancy moves! Would it kill you to STAY STILL!
Roxas barely had time to consider the 'keybearing' word before the behemoth swung another fist at him, forcing him to throw himself backwards into a dense copse of fir trees. Pushing himself further into the foliage, he listened to the loud curses and insults, watching his attacker and waiting until he moved as if to smash his way through the copse… and promptly pushed himself further through the tightly packed trunks. The sharp creaking of breaking wood filled the air as Roxas' attacker began to force his way into the copse, tree trunks snapping like matchsticks before his swinging fists. Roxas and his assailant continued then backwards movement until the wall of trees at Roxas' back began to thin, before disappearing altogether. Stumbling backwards, confused at his sudden freedon to move, he dithered slightly on the other side of the copse before a large fist emerged from between two trees, stripping bark and branches from their trunks. Roxas turned and ran.
Countless shades of green, brown and black burred together as he sprinted through the trees. A loud yell rent the air, and he glanced over his shoulder to see his attacker charged towards him. Looking forward once more, he glimpsed a flash of white in the corner of his eye – the abandoned mansion. He veered towards the distant mansion, darting between the trees as his ears filled with panting and gasped curse words. The sounds of giant behind him grew in volume, the ground beneath his feet seeming to shake with his chaser's every step. The open space before the manor's gates came into sight ahead, and Roxas forced himself to run even faster. He bolted across the grassy approach, throwing himself towards the high gates… and was yanked backwards as a sudden force grabbed him by the back of his jacket and pulled.
Roxas yelled in shock and fear, his oversized opponent looming over him as he shook him by the back of his jacket and growled at him.
"Knew I seen you before… you was in sandsville with the ginger porcupine when 'e was workin' for those organisation schmucks! What's their pet keyblader doin' out all by 'is lonesome in the woods?"
The brawler's head tilted, mouth twisting into a puzzled frown.
"Speakin' of, no uniform? You quit?"
His eyes widening at the insinuations, Roxas ignored the questions and snarled out a few choice phrases of his own, twisting and attempting to kick the cat in his knee.
"What the HELL are you talking about? What's a key got to do with this? And I'm nobody's pet!
Their struggle had moved them to the walls of the manor, the cat simply moving with Roxas as he twisted and shoved. Getting bored of his captive's struggles, the brawler simply huffed and threw him into the nearest brick surface. Stars exploded in front of Roxas' eyes, and he clutched his head as the world tilted around him. His vision eventually cleared, and he looked up to see his attacker looming over him.
"HAH! Think Ol' Petey wouldn't remember? I've seen you loads, kid, and every time you was with a black cloaker, wavin' a keyblade about!"
He leaned down so that his face was level with Roxas, putrid breath curling across the young man's face as he spoke.
"Me an' Maleficent's been busy, and we got time to look at Norty's old records. We know you had something to do with Mr. hero-pants Sora kid, and that means you can get me outta this datascape nonsense and back into the real world!"
He drew his fist back, and it began… crackling?
"So I'll ask nicely once, pipsqueak – get me outta this mess, or I clobber you!"
His eyes wide as dishes, Roxas flattened himself closer to the wall;
"I don't know what you're talking abo-!"
was all he managed to choke out, before the cat grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him upright.
"Wrong answer."
The fist drew back even more, white light flaring around it as it crackled even louder, before hurtling towards his face. His instincts took over, his arms rising to cover his head, and a fierce wave of fizzling heat assaulted him.
Red light burst before his closed eyelids, a high-pitched whine filling his ears, but no force hit him. His body, seized up as the fist had sped towards him, curled further in on itself, but the blow that had yet to connect. He cracked one eye open, then both shot open in wonder and shock. The brawler's fist, still crackling with repressed energy, hung motionless in the air before his raised arms… which were radiating a bright white aura. The light wasn't hurting his arms, nor was the glow affecting his sight, but Pete's piggish eyes were narrowed against the glare, and his fist was shaking where it came into contact with the luminance.
Barely thinking, Roxas thrust his glowing hands out towards his opponent's face, eyes screwed shut once more as he wished for the best… and was rewarded with a bellow of pain. He was dropped immediately, meeting the ground with a gasp as his outstretched fingers curled around something cylindrical. Opening his eyes, he was greeted with what was possibly the most ridiculous weapon he could have ever imagined… an oversized key? The teeth and shaft were bright silver, the guard a warm gold, and some kind of stylized mouse head hung from the end from a short chain. The concept was ridiculous, its existence and appearance completely impossible – so why did its presence fill him with a comforting sense of safety and nostalgia? He hopped lightly to his feet, the weapon filling him with a warmth that eliminated the hurts from his earlier fight.
Roxas rotated his wrist, the weapon comfortably balanced in his grasp, before dropping into a curiously familiar, low-balanced stance.
The cat had got stumbled back after Roxas' surprise attack, still clutching his nose from the hit to his face. Snarling, he dropped his hand and pointed at Roxas.
"See! I knew you was lyin', so use that goshdarned thing and GET ME OUTTA HERE!"
With those words, the brawler fumbled at his belt and raised some small object aloft. The air, deadly silent in those few instants, was rent by a delicate 'crack', and an indigo aura flared around Pete's raised fist. Roxas flung himself out of the way of a dark-coloured fireball, the weapon raised in front of his face. The flames hit the wall, blazing up into a shadow-tainted inferno. Pete threw his head back and roared with laughter, more of the oily black flames gathering around both of his fists. It became a deadly game of cat and mouse, Roxas cursing as he hastily dodged the flames, occasionally deflecting a projectile with his new weapon. A particularly fast fireball smacked into the shaft of the weapon, driving him back. Manic laughter split the air, his opponent sending yet more waves of flame at the nimble keybearer with every swing of his arms.
Pete's bellows and Roxas' occasional cries of pain had swiftly become the music to their lethal, endless dance. The keyblade may have provided Roxas with new reserves of strength, but these quickly depleted as he ducked and dodged around the clearing. His breath caught as he twisted once more, desperately avoiding another of the never-ending projectiles. He'd barely deflected the last few well-aimed missiles, and his arms now trembled from the strain of the simple movement of lifting his weapon from dragging on the ground. Yelping, he dropped to the ground to avoid another fireball, the move putting him face-to-flame with the still-burning fires from 'Petey's' attacks… and the scene blurred for a split second, the flames changing from midnight black to a more normal red. He straightened again to face his opponent, keyblades bared in an X formation… huh?
He blinked and shook his head, mindlessly dodging another two fireballs, which roared into the wall behind him and stuck there, morphing into another patch of dark fire. Roxas' body folded into another of the instinctive rolling movements, allowing to him move out of range of the fire, but landing him directly beside Pete. The brawler turned towards him, sadistic grin lit up by the dark flames twisting around his arms. Face twisting into snarl, Roxas felt his ire rise, and steeled himself before dashing forward. The keyblade whipped into Pete's portly stomach, wiping the smirk from his face and sending him teetering backwards.
The cat threw his arms out to regain his balance as Roxas skipped backwards, the remaining dark flames flying away from the brawler. One dark blot disappeared into the woods, while the other sailed over the high gates into the front of the mansion, disappearing through a window in an explosion of glittering glass fragments. Roxas looked away from the house, sinking into a low stance and positioning his keyblade before him in a two-handed grip. Pete's mouth slammed shut, and he regarded Roxas for a few uncomfortable seconds, the flames on his fists finally gone. He looked at his arms, seemingly only realizing this as his expression morphed from shocked to upset to thunderstruck.
"Whu… THAT WAS THE LAST OF IT!"
he bellowed, before letting out an outraged roar. He swung his fists high above his head, before sending them crashing into the ground. A series of purple-edged shockwaves shot towards Roxas, swiftly followed by a wrathful Pete. He jumped over the first swell, tucking his head down and somehow rolling out of the way of the rest. He let out a hoarse shout as Pete wheeled around to follow him, eyes wide with fury. He would never know how he managed to deflect the blows, his keyblade swinging wildly before him and somehow intercepting the villain's attacks as he scuttled backwards.
Yelping, he threw himself into another of the instinctive backwards rolls, narrowly evading a swinging fist, only to smack into a hard surface. His mouth opened in a soundless scream at the pain in his back, but he pushed through the pain to regain his footing, only to duck away from another blow. He jabbed the keyblade upwards, hitting the arm out of the way, but in doing so lost his tenuous stance and dropped forward onto his knees. Clutching his chest as he heaved in ragged gulps of air, Roxas sagged against the brick wall, helpless and exhausted before his opponent.
Pete raised one massive fist, a merciless glint in his shadowed gaze. Lightning snapped around his arm once more, his mouth curling up into a cruel sneer. Roxas cringed back, keyblade raised in a weak defence before him… only to stare as a semi-solid white mass struck Pete's head, a high, indecipherable yell splitting the air. The brawler ceased his attack in shock, raising a hand to his head as he turned to look in the direction of the attack. Grimacing, Roxas gathered his remaining strength and kicked away from the wall, managing to get his feet under him and flee his distracted opponent. Using the respite to catch his breath, Roxas finally had a chance to survey the battlefield. The previously green clearing was now a mess of charred grass and small fires, of both the normal and 'dark-Pete' variety. Pete himself was standing a few metres away, yelling something at Roxas' savior that didn't quite penetrate the buzz in his ears. He craned his head to the side, looking past Pete… only to sag back in disbelief as he took in the sight of the cloaked girl from that morning.
His ears were still buzzing. Roxas shook his head, partly to relieve the whine but mostly from disbelief. He stopped when a sharp pain shot through his head, the shaking not helping the ache caused by a combination of confusion and being thrown about by Pete. Pete. He looked towards the brawler's back – he was still shouting things at the girl, and seemed to have forgotten about Roxas entirely. Squaring his shoulders, he hefted his weapon and dashed towards Pete.
Swooping low, he drove the weapon into the brawler's knees, then twisted mid-step to jam his shoulder into the side of his foe's impressive stomach, sending him crashing into the nearby wall. His momentum carried him towards the girl, and he came to a stop to her left as Pete crashed to the ground with a frustrated yell. Roxas narrowed his eyes at the girl, memories of their conversation and the sick feeling of anxiety it had caused still fresh in his mind. Pete groaned behind them and he stiffened, grimacing before moving to stand beside her. She was strange, and unsettling, and may or may not have been responsible for the day's events, but she was his only ally in this fight against Pete. And she had saved his life. Sighing, he looked back towards the portly cat, who was now laboring to his feet. Predicting combat, Roxas shifted back into the crouched stance, his keyblade held back before him with two hands. The girl shifted beside him, and he felt his frustration growing. Pete finally stood before them, face arranged in his typical snarl. He clenched his huge hands into fists, clearly readying himself for a fight, and Roxas' temper broke.
"Look. I don't know anything about a machine or a 'datascape'."
He lowered his gaze to his keyblade, scowling at it for an instant before raising it above his head and glaring at Pete once more.
"I don't know anyone else with something like this, and I'm really sick of people treating me like I'm someone else!"
Pete raised one eyebrow, mouth still set stubbornly in a snarl.
"Uh huh? Well, I'm really sick of youse key brats and Xehanort wannabes getting in my way. MOVE IT!"
Roxas had no time to decipher the statement before a volley of large black objects were sent screaming towards them. He instinctively raised his keyblade, slashing the air before him to deflect one of the outermost projectiles. He had a split second to notice two of the central missiles exploding harmlessly in a bright stream of electricity before a solid weight slammed into his stomach. He swore he heard a sharp *crack! *, although it was almost drowned out by the constant thrum of explosions in the surrounding air. Staggering to his feet from where the blast had thrown him, Roxas looked up, his eyes widening at the dark shape looming above him. Pain enveloped his body. An agonized yell rent the air, joined by an inhuman cackle.
He was barely aware of the lack of ground beneath his feet, or the choking pressure at his throat. Darkness clouded his vision, silver flashes crowding its edges and plucking at his mind. Oblivion whispered at the edge of his consciousness, a sweet relief. His eyes were screwed shut, breaths shallow and rasping at the white-hot bands of agony that constricted his chest.
"Wakey wakey, Blondie!"
The force that held him aloft suddenly tensed, then shook his exhausted body from side to side. Silver filled his vision, his mouth opening in a shrill scream as jagged spears of pain were driven ever further into his torso. His eyes flew open, Pete regarding him with a sadistic smile as he thrust one fist out to the side.
"Last chance, kid – I got a star doo-hickey that don't work, a boss that expects me back yesterday, and Vennie-boy, I'm absolutely …"
A crackling noise filled the air, Pete's outstretched hand beginning to glow.
"All"
Roxas' fingers twitched uselessly, his weapon lost sometime after Pete had slugged him.
"Outta"
The lightning roped around Pete's fist was blinding him, brighter now than the spiraling silver void that beckoned just beyond the bounds of consciousness.
"Patience."
Roxas shut his eyes, and welcomed the shining Oblivion.
A noise, and his eyes flew open once more. The pressure on his shirtfront disappeared, and he was dropped to the ground as a small, shadowy figure flickered through his field of vision. He cried out in pain as his screaming ribs narrowly avoided the scorched earth, his shoulder taking the brunt of the fall. He barely noticed the sudden absence of his tormentor, instead locking his gaze on the cloaked figure before him… and his new weapon, his 'keyblade', held out before her. A momentary ripple of confusion washed through his dizzied mind,
" –why does she have it it's mine only I can touch it – wait. What?"
Her chest heaving, the young woman stared at Pete, now lying unconscious some distance away, before sighing and allowing the weapon to drop to her side. Dismissing his bemused tangle of thoughts, he shifted his gaze from her hand to her face, just as she turned her head to look at him. Reserved blue eyes met his shocked gawk, her mouth opening as if to speak, but the only noise that disturbed the tentative calm was a hoarse croak. Her face took on an almost comical look of confusion, before her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed.
Roxas surged to his knees, weaving slightly in pain as he leaned over the young woman's prone form. He hovered beside her, half-forgotten CPR training videos running through his mind – clear the area, call an ambulance, give her a hi-potion – what the hell was a hi-potion? Pain clouded the space behind his eyes as he shook his head, leaning back on his heels, hands pressed into his eye sockets as he chased the blurry recollections hovering at the edge of his memory. He was so close, the images sharpening, faces clearing… and a sharp scream split the air. His gaze shot back to the unconscious form of the young woman, who had curled herself into a ball, her unoccupied hand pressing against her heart. He leaned over her once more, before falling back in shock as she screeched once again; a never-ending sound of pain that drilled at his mind.
"What's wrong? What can I do?" he shouted.
His exclamations went unheard over the girl's shrieks, but still he kept up a steady stream of loud question as he flitted his eyes over her shaking form. The only change he noticed was a faint glow around his keyblade, still clutched tightly in her hand and, panicked by his uselessness and the invasive noise, he grabbed hold of it and wrenched it from her grip with a yell of frustration. She screamed once more, the noise warbling inside his ears as he stumbled back to a standing position, his reclaimed weapon held tightly in his fist. Her body seized in on itself, limbs rigid and left hand pressed tightly to her heart, before a bright light exploded around her torso. The light pulsed slightly, as if in time with a heartbeat, and Roxas was forced to shield his eyes as it blazed briefly outwards before dying away, leaving no trace but its after-effects on the inside of his eyelids, like the red shadows of the setting sun. Her cry halted with the fading of the light, his ears ringing in the sudden silence. Lowering his hand, Roxas looked to where the glow had originated, only to find that the young woman's hand had slipped from her heaving torso, and now lay outstretched at her side, fingers loosely curled around… the hilt of… another keyblade?
Astounded, Roxas stared at the weapon in his hand. It seemed completely identical to the one that the girl held, his eyes darting between the two as his confusion mounted. He dropped to his knees to compare the two, and had just leaned towards the unconscious figure when her eyes flickered open and she jerked upwards, startling him back onto his heels. She squinted in his general direction, blinking copiously until her gaze focused on his face. Her gaze suddenly dropped to his keyblade, eyebrows furrowing and mouth dropping open slightly as she twisted to the left, her arm lifting to allow her to examine the object in her grasp. She held an oversized silver key: gold handguard, silver shaft and mouse charm: it was truly identical to the weapon he held, like a reflection in a mirror.
Her gaze lifted from her wide-eyed perusal of the object to meet Roxas', almost as if in supplication, before her stare shot to his right, and a low groan sounded behind him. Her expression morphed from shock to fear as she continued to look over his shoulder. He crumpled inwardly, but twisted around into a half-crouch that allowed him to face the downed brawler. He raised his eyes to glare at the no-doubt arisen Pete, resignedly hefting his weapon, and was greeted with a formless swirl of colour and sound.
A whine filled his ears as the earth dipped and plunged around him, sky and ground surging and inverting in a nauseating eddy. He struggled to stay on his feet in the unsteady clash, then nearly lost his balance as Pete, who had somehow clambered to his feet and had his hands clamped to his ears, simply blinked out of existence. He spun back around to face his remaining companion, the movement almost sedate amidst the whirling world. She simply looked at him, stoic in the face of the forest dissolving around them. Her cloak whipped around her as he met her eyes: eyes that danced between sadness, inexplicably frightening apathy, and… joy? That gaze: the eye of the storm: his focal point in the surrounding chaos… until the chaos simply ceased to be.
Shining silver, encircled by chains… and so, so tempting. Warmth, protection, love… all his for one little surrender…
Roxas shot up into a sitting position, yanking himself away from the warmth cocooning him. Or, at least he tried to. It clung to him, rendering him immobile. He thrashed his limbs, throwing himself sideways and letting out a muffled yell. He felt his world give way, teetering on the edge of the precipice for an instant before he fell. Finally succeeding in kicking off the sheets, he sat up on the floor beside his bed and let the panic from his dream fade away. The cloaked girl with her unsettling words, dead-eyed friends hidden on the corner of an empty street, huge brawling cat-men… it was all a dream. It had to be. Clambering onto the bed as he shook off the remaining hold of sleep and his duvet, he threw open the window and looked out over the peaceful silence of Twilight Town.
He strolled down the back alley; determinedly not thinking about the lack of people… maybe there was some event on today that he had forgotten about?
"It can't be the scramble cup, that's not for another few days…"
he muttered absent-mindedly to himself, ducking under the curtain, and wandering over to the absent box in the corner of their usual spot. He grinned slightly at his friend's lack of acknowledgement; they seemed pretty engrossed in their quiet conversation. He continued to dream up reasons for the empty streets, before Hayner's loud statement interrupted his musings. The words that followed, however, froze the blood in his veins, and he looked up sharply.
""Man, doesn't that tick you off?"
"Yeah, that's just wrong."
A familiar curl of nauseating anxiety took hold of his stomach, despite his best efforts to quash it.
"Guys, what're we talking about again?"
Hayner and Pence ignored him, Olette piping up from the corner;
"Seifer's gone too far this time."
Anxiety and fear slammed into him like a freight train, and he stared at the trio, mouth open. Hayner suddenly looked up and fixed him with a robotic stare for a few seconds, before nodding animatedly as if Roxas had spoken and jumping from his perch to pace the floor. His expression remained unchanged. Backing away from the… things that looked like his friends, Roxas stumbled out of their spot, Hayner's next mechanical sentence following him out;
"I mean, its true that stuff's been stolen around town…"
His legs shaking, Roxas managed to stagger halfway up the back alley before he collapsed against a wall festooned with posters. Dropping his head into his hands, he attempted to make some sense of the events that now seemed less and less like a dream, and more like some sickening facsimile of reality. Raising his head, he stared helplessly towards the distant sunset.
"What the hell is happening here?"
(Maybe If I act natural they'll forget about the 7-month absence)
Yet more confusion to follow when we rejoin Xion (that's gonna be the format of this story – alternating viewpoints and the occasional chapter with other people!). There will rarely be an overlap in events/time periods as extensive as the last two chapters, unless it's for important events – reading the same scenarios twice isn't for everyone. The next chapter should be up within a month. Thanks again to any & all reviews, faves and follows – I treasure them all!
-Arrow out-