Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Chapter 6:

Roxas took the hint as he lifted his head and saw Axel walking from the room as he lay back onto the bed and pulled the bed sheets up over his head and started to cry softly into the pillow. Axel couldn't explain why he was feeling like such a softhearted fool as of late, it had to be the kid, but, it couldn't be.

It had been far too long since he had last cried; even when he saw a young woman he had fallen for many years ago, long before joining the Mob, fall to the ground as a man in a carriage charge on forth. She had been his sister, Namine; she had been only at least 4 years old and looked up to her big brother. She wanted to go wherever he went, but, he never wanted her to tag along, but she would always follow him. The day it happened, was a day, he wished he could replay over again and fix the situation from happening again. When you have been working as a hired thug or muscle for the Mob by the time you are at least 15; you don't have time to remember the past or feel sympathy.

"So, Luxord, where's the Nocturne brat?" Axel looked to the platinum blonde haired man standing in the alley outside the Mob Headquarters.

"He's probably off at some late night club, soaking up the tunes of the evening even though he had just played that evening," Luxord puffed at his cigarette before handing it to Axel who took a drag on it.

"He surely doesn't have a brain, I'll give him that," Axel remarked as he talked with the cigarette between his teeth before taking it out to puff out a plume of smoke that encurled his head.

"But he's got a heart for the music," Luxord took another drag on the shared cigarette.

"Hmph, a heart," Axel mockingly laughed as leaned against the alleyway wall, "What heart does he possess if we are a Mob without hearts?"

The Member in question was humming a happily, jazzy tune as he headed home, but as he placed his hand on the door handle, he felt someone pressing something into his back, "May I ask the reason why you have a gun pointed into my back, Officer Strife?" Demyx sarcastically and jokingly remarked, as he turned to face the Officer.

"I have a few questions to ask you, Mr. Nocturne," Officer Strife motioned for Demyx to open the door as he then motioned him to the couch that sat along a wall.

"Now, are you going to keep waving that around or do I have to call someone to make you stop?" Demyx jokingly pointed out, his hands still raised.

Officer Strife put the weapon away as his body language gave Demyx the okay to relax as he proceeded to question him.

"So tell me, do you have any connection with the local Mob family: Organization XIII?" Officer Strife pulled out a small notepad to take down some notes from anything Demyx might spill out in the midst of the conversation.

"I've heard of them, if that's what you're thinking, but no, I'm not apart of their little 'family'," Demyx started to remove a small cigarette stick from a pack that was in his shirt pocket.

Officer Strife continued to question him until he was sure he had all he needed, "I'm sorry for taking all your time like this Mr. Nocturne, but, I'll be checking in now and again," Officer Strife got up and moved to the door.

"Thanks for stopping by Officer Strife, see you around," Demyx shut and locked the door.

He decided that it was best to make sure that those close to him knew about the Officers visit, "Get me the Godfather...Xemnas, you idiot! Tell him Number IX has some news for him...its regarding the fuzz," Demyx coldly eyed the door and removed a hidden pistol from his side and placed it on the table.

"I'll tell him...okay...until then, good bye," a soft toned voice responded as he brushed the hair that hung over his right hair from his face, "It seems we are hitting problems."

Demyx was still upbeat from the nights ventures as he walked over and poured a glass of brandy into a short glass cup as he quickly gulped it down before he tossed the glass at the wall, "That brat...he's the key to all our plans and he screwed them up royally from the start," Demyx swore under his breath as he poured another glass of brandy and proceeded to sip at it as he worked on a new tune.