I stepped from the portal, into the vast halls of Castle Oblivion. There were thirteen floors above ground, and twelve below. Each floor was a massive hall, and there in front of me was my inferior by one level. Not that you'd guess. Luxord, number ten, was a vivid refined blond, with a designer moustache and many silver ear-piercings. He was the lord of Castle Oblivion, and despite his stance in the Organization, currently my boss.
"Well?" he asked, bluntly, in his deep British accent.
"Well?" I still hadn't forgotten the conversation he, Vexen, The Superior and I had had. And I wasn't in a forgiving mood; even if there was the remotest chance he was apologetic.
"Did you kill the Guard Armour?" he enquired, though he already knew the answer.
"No…" My mind hadn't been on the large Heartless this evening. And it wasn't now. Images of handsome brown-haired men with expensive dress shoes and pinstripe waistcoats flitted through the jumble of my mind, taunting the feeble thoughts as they tried to come up with an excuse better than-
"I couldn't find it."
"I told you I should have gone, too…" There were so many things I should have said. And shouted in his face. But I didn't. Instead, I hung my head, and apologized feebly. He simply shrugged, irate, and went about his way. I wanted to return to the boutique in Traverse Town now. I knew Mr Slater wouldn't be there, but I wanted to go just in case.
I returned to The World That Never Was. I was tired. I was sleepy. I had memories in my head that I wanted to forget, and memories in my head I wished were still real. Wrought by misery and an inexplicable desire, I headed up the slope to Proof of Existence, and touched my door. This was the only way into our private rooms, and none could get to mine without my permission. The door itself vanished, and what was left was a gaping hole into physical nothingness, that only I could pass.
I liked my room, which I appeared into. The walls were a royal blue and light blue drapes. I had a pond, on which floated stilly a waterbed. I leapt over the wet onto the bed, and threw my Organization Robe over my shoulder, not caring. Underneath, as was uniform, we wore black dress shirts, trousers, and heavy, shiny boots. I pulled my belt off, and tried to pull off my trousers, my mind still full of what would be waiting in the boutique in just a few hours time. I still had my boots on, and not able to kick them off, I simply left them, my trousers halfway down my legs with checked boxers protecting my manhood. My shirt was still buttoned, and I simply was too tired to fumble with the little black bits of plastic.
There I lay, unable to feel myself for my thick clothes, my mouth hanging open lightly, my eyes flickering open and closed, open and closed, until my world was gripped by a lightless shadow named sleep…
My dreams were against me, too. They replayed the unpleasant conversation he'd had with a few of his colleagues a few hours before…
The four of them were sitting on their designated huge chairs, many, many metres from the floor of the hall of the World That Never Was. Three still had their hoods up, but the most familiar face with the Mohawk was clear to see.
"Number nine," came the booming voice of the leader. The blond musician shuddered, and looked up at his boss. There was no spunky grin on the ashen face. "You have been neglecting your duties."
"I haven't!" Insisted the accused.
One of the hooded men, with the deep British voice, laughed, and added; cruelly "You have produced next to no work in my charge at Castle Oblivion, regarding the study of memories."
"Why are we studying memories?" cried the frustrated youth.
The only other figure yet to speak broke his silence. "So we can remember what it was like to have hearts, nine."
"I have a heart!"
"YOU DO NOT!" this was the leader. Everybody's head snapped toward the robed shouter, whom's voice filled the hall, and the ears of everybody in the hall. The man closest to the youngest sounded irate, and was the leader's auxiliary in misery. Within his dream, I remembered how friendly the Mohawked man and the current speaker once were.
"I am sick and tired of this, boy, when you protest that you have a heart. You are a Nobody. You exist, but never were meant to. You cannot love, nor feel joy, and are little but a shell, containing naught but void and hate. This is how things shall remain until you help use produce some hearts! You go with myself, tonight, to find a large Heartless in Traverse Town."
Tears were streaking down the non-hooded face rapidly, and whilst the quietest member chuckled to himself, the boy said in a feeble voice. "I don't want to go with you."
"Then go alone. Now." The leader had spoken, and the tearful blond vanished into a portal.
