I'm just taking a day off to get some things done around my place. I'll play catch-up tomorrow.
My next post will have Roxas going after Benedict. I'll get it up this evening as soon as I get home from work.
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My next post will have Roxas going after Benedict. I'll get it up this evening as soon as I get home from work.
The Unchained
Level 1 Ganondorf (3/10)
Location: The Ruins | Temple of the Black Egg
Word Count: 970
Exp: 3 + 2 = 5/10
After Toriel's departure, Ganondorf once again found himself alone. As usual, there was little to do but think. At least now he knew a little bit more about his captors. Not as much about the Consul, other than simply confirming his presumptions that they were likely just a child. But he now more about Toriel than he had learned in the two months worth of visits from her. And he was fairly certain he had managed to intimidate her, despite his chains. Not bad, for a supposedly powerless prisoner chained to a wall. But what of any of it? What good would this do him unless he were to get freed? He looked down at the Triforce embedded in his right hand, it's faint golden glow pulsated a bit. It's power was growing, but not as quickly as he would like. Whoever had placed him here had actually managed to dampen the powers of the Triforce, a feat not easily accomplished. He would need to investigate this matter, find a way to restore the Triforce's lost strength before he would have any hope of getting his revenge.
And that was when he heard it. It sounded a bit faint, coming from some distance away, but was unmistakable. Combat. Someone was fighting a battle, and some of it sounded like it was gradually making it's way toward his location. Intruders... perhaps someone Ganondorf could convince to free him? Or at least get close enough for him to try and take their power for his own in some way. But in the distance he spotted the vague shape of smaller monsters scurrying off in the direction that Toriel went. Damn it, that would complicate things. If she turned around and came back, she could be a threat with the White Sword she carried. Then again, perhaps the intruders would take care of her for him? For now he decided it was better to let things play out on their own.
Sure enough, he spotted Toriel heading back his way. This time her hand rested on the hilt of the White Sword. Her intentions were clear. She'd rather kill him herself than let any of the intruders free him. In that case, Ganondorf's hand would be forced. But could he muster enough power to break free and strike her down? Even if he did, he was without a happen and she could strike him with the White Sword before he could close enough to her. Damn, what other way did Ganondorf have to get out of this?
And then, as if by a miracle. His chance presented itself. Someone, a girl, came sprinting onto the scene. Who she was mattered not. The only thing that did matter was that her arrival caused Toriel to spin around, turning her back on the King of Evil.
This was never his intention. Ganondorf's plan had always been to break himself free when she wasn't around and simply leave her to her loneliness. No reason to senselessly kill the woman who had taken it upon herself to heal his mortal injury and keep him fed all this time. But no, she just had to come back. If she'd just kept on walking, not turned this into a choice between him and her. But it was far too late for "could haves" or "should haves". She'd made this choice, and she'd made her mistake. There was no turning back.
The man clenched his right hand into a fist. All at once the golden glow of the Triforce on his right hand erupted with a bright glow of power and strength. With that strength, the Great King of Evil sprang to his feet and lunged forward. The chains holding him back had no sway over the Triforce of Power, and they shattered as Ganondorf's muscular form reached out for the woman whose back had turned. Whether she heard him and tried to turn around didn't matter. With his immense strength he grabbed the wrist of her sword-hand and twisted. Not enough to break bones, but easily enough to loosen her grip and wrestle the White Sword from her grasp. When she looked at the now armed and escaped prisoner she did not see an angry snarl or a wicked grin. Instead she saw only a pained grimace on his face. "I told you this prison would not hold me. You shouldn't have turned back."
After this came a single mighty swing. The White Sword came down on its previous owner with a single, powerful diagonal slash across her body. Surprisingly, there was no blood, despite the ghastly cut across her torso. Instead she slowly dissolved into white ash. With her life gone, Toriel became reduced to little more than motes of prismatic light bearing an image of her in the center. But Ganondorf would not extend his cruelty to her spirit. Rather than destroy it, he merely held onto it. Perhaps he could find a way to give the lonely woman some manner of peace once he had left this dreadful place. After this, he slowly walked to the chest several meters way from the spot he had been chained. He raised the White Sword and used it to destroy the lock. Once the chest opened, Ganondorf reached in and reclaimed his sword and added it to his now growing collection of spoils.
Only now did he look to the girl Nadia, "You have my thanks. I never would have gotten the jump on her if you had not distracted her for me." he said with a wicked smile, "As a token of my gratitude, I shall grant you one favor that you may ask of me at any time you see fit. I suggest you not waste it, for I shall not give you a second one."
@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN Geralt | @TruthHurts22 Raz | @Crimson Flame Bede | @Archmage MC Blazermate & Susie
Word Count: 592 (+1 Exp)
Level 3 Roxas: 9 + 1 = 10/30
Nyakuza -> Gutsford
It seemed a little strange that someone would be waiting for them. The twins that let them in as well as the woman that introduced herself didn't appear to be familiar to any of the Seekers. But they did mention a name that some of them recognized. So evidently the Seekers' actions must have had more of an effect than they had previously realized. Whatever the case, these people were not under Galeem's influence, as they lacked the off-colors and red eyes. It sounded like a previous person the Seekers had freed was able to free them in order to form whatever this Resistance force was supposed to be.
For now though, it was better to let Peach do the talking. Instead Roxas listened in so he could learn more about what all this was about. And while there appeared to be some hesitance at first, the arrival of someone else seemed to make the decision for them. Roxas had no idea what a "Turk" was, but the Special Unit seemed to be treating them like they were bad news. Probably in league with that Government they mentioned? Well there was no time for questions and inquiries. They all needed to get out. Giovana offered a plan involving a distraction on two fronts that would give the rest of the group a chance to make a getaway.
Well, Roxas was no negotiator so dealing with the Turk was a no for him. But he was pretty confident in his running skills. He'd done enough foot races around Twilight Town with the other militia members that he was certain he could lead those G-Men on a wild goose chase while also managing to outrun them all the while. And thankfully, Raz also seemed keen on the idea of being a runner. Good, between Raz's knowledge and Roxas' agility, they'd probably be fine, "I'm going with you." he said to Raz and was quick to follow him out the door.
Listening to Raz, Roxas realized he needed to make himself a target as well, "Man, I sure hope this dark secret we discovered doesn't get out!" he said, playing along, "It'd be the end for those government agents, that's for sure!" he watched for Raz to make a move and then bolted after him. He took a quick glance back to confirm that they were being chased. After which he matched his pace with Raz and looked over at him as they ran.
"Okay... now what?" he asked, hoping for some insight from Raz. The meantime, they ducked around a corner into a neighboring alleyway. Just up ahead, Roxas could make out the shapes of some G-Men coming from the other end, "Uh oh! Raz, go up!" he whispered at Raz, even pointing a finger upward to make sure the message got across. And then, Roxas jumped to his side and pushed himself up off the wall. From there he began the climb, which for him was relatively easy. In fact he was moving with such flowmotion that he was practically running straight up the wall. He just hoped Raz would be able to make the climb as well.
Soon enough they'd find themselves on the roof, "They're gonna corner us if we stay on the ground." he told his fellow Seeker when they had a moment, "I'm thinking we'll have better chances if we can stick to the high ground and stay up here among the roofs. What do ya think?" he asked, wanting to get Raz's opinion before settling on a plan.
I still had to make some interpretations when writing my Ganondorf. That while thing with Nabooru was something I added in on my own. Canonically they don't even interact, much less have any connection. In the game she secretly rebelled against him alone, whereas in my interpretation she led a full on mutiny against him at the start of his invasion of Hyrule. Bit more of a grudge between them this time around.
Gotta say @Double Ganondorf is an awesome character. Prolly my favorite villain next to Vaati.
Yeah, he's one of my favorites too.
The Imprisoned
Level 1 Ganondorf (0/10)
Location: The Ruins
Word Count: 2,248
Exp: 0 + 3 = 3/10
Deep below the earth, a lone custodian padded slowly through the solemn, silent corridors of purple stone. Though she went to great lengths to attend these forgotten Ruins, to sweep away their filth and dust so that the ivy might flourish and the vermillion leafbeds might rest like mosaic carpets upon the ground, no amount of effort would ever fill these hallowed halls with joy or laughter. Though monsters roamed here, she found little company among them. Her prolonged attempts to make friends with them eventually led her to realize that few could even speak. Sadly, fewer still chose to speak with her. So while she continued to leave them food when she could, she left them to the solitude they seemed to desire. While not one to judge, she found herself disturbed by them, by their fearful lack of decency and self-awareness. To her, they seemed less like the monsters she knew, and more like the monsters that humans believed them to be. In light of that deeper, more terrifying level of monstrosity, their indifference toward her seemed like a miracle, and for even that kindness she felt deeply grateful. It seemed to lend credence to her belief: that nobody, no matter how evil, was ever too far gone. Out of everything in this place, only the relic that hung at her waist would ever gather dust from her neglect.
Eventually, the gentle caretaker’s route through the Ruins came to an end. Here, the darkness held sway, weighing heavily on the few who dared to tread here. The atmosphere felt thick and heavy, though not silent thanks to the frequent clink of chains. A number of them dangled from the cavern’s ceiling, suspending glass orbs of lambent lumaflies above the churning mists that rose and fell like the surface of the sea. Wordless, she padded up the foggy trail to the great, ovoid temple that loomed at the top of the incline. Though at first glance it appeared to be hidden in darkness, she knew that she could get within an inch of it and still not make out another solitary detail, for its surface was a glossy, perfectly smooth black, like a colossal, obsidian egg.
At the front of the temple, however, lay a large hole in that shell, and within a huge spiral of strange, almost chitinous material. Over the center of the spiral lay an oval seal, emblazoned with the likeness of three masks, and in front of that was a man..
The prisoner was chained by lengths of pure white embedded in the spiral itself, and shackles around his wrists and ankles. There was enough give to allow him to sit or stand if he chose, and use his hands a little, but nothing more than that. His jailor couldn’t help but be a little afraid of the incarnation of evil itself, but in a way she pitied him, too. She sighed, and continued up the final stretch. In her hands she carried a tray, laden with food and drink. “Good afternoon…Ganondorf.”
The days in this hell were usually quite slow. Not surprising, as there was little to do but sleep, and think. Sleep, and think. Sleep, and think. And when he would think, the only thing he would actually think about was finding the wretch responsible for putting him here. That and imagining all the ways he could get his revenge. Make them suffer, make them beg for mercy. Of course, he didn’t even have a face to put to those thoughts, having not even the faintest idea who actually placed him here. Instead only one face came up, a face from his past. Roahim, that pathetic excuse for a king, and Zelda, his insufferable daughter.
He was sitting when his so-called “caretaker” arrived. At least that was what she had been trying to cast herself as. But the Gerudo man was no fool. He saw the despicable white sword she wore at her hip every day during her visits. Caretaker… How laughable! She was his Jailer, pure and simple. But she also was not a cruel jailer of any sort. She’d been kind enough to bring the man food and water every day. She had also talked to him plenty during these sorts of visits, even though he only occasionally spoke back.
“...Toriel.” said Ganondorf, lifting his exhausted gaze up at his visitor, “Come to feed the evil prisoner again?” to this day he still couldn’t understand why she did this. Coming to check on him, and making sure he didn’t escape was one thing. But going out of her way to feed him and bring water? It was oddly kind for someone whose apparent duty was to keep him under watch.
The white-furred goat gave a thin smile, her eyes melancholic. “Evil prisoner or not, everyone needs to eat and drink. Here, I even have something special for you today.” Despite the very real danger of Ganondorf pulling taut his chains in a burst of speed to come at her, she approached to lay down the tray at his feet. Sourdough, jerky, and mushroom salad were nothing new. For a while now, she’d also been a rotating portion of extra protein, since a man like him needed it to maintain his muscles. Miteloaf, Gnatchos, Omelant, Spaghetflea…none of it nearly as bad as it looked or sounded, and sourced from a distant area Toriel referred to as the Lawn, to boot. Today, however, instead of water the prisoner’s porcelain mug contained a reddish liquid, lukewarm from the long walk over, but earthy and tangy. “Woodrose Tea, made with petals from Hollow Bough,” Toriel announced proudly, rubbing at a couple bandages on her hands. “Took me a while to get the mixture right, hmhm…”
“My my, what ever is the occasion?” he inquired, though his smile made him seem facetious, “A holiday I’m unaware of? Perhaps someone’s birthday?” he took to the tea first, having to admit that the chance to drink something other than the same old water was one he wasn’t about to pass up. He pressed the mug to his lips, keeping the sip deliberately short so as to savor, “Delicious.” he said, tipping the mug as if to offer a toast.
“Every day’s a good day to make someone’s day,” Toriel smiled. “I’m glad you like it!”
He let himself take a bite of the Sourdough, but also eyed the admittedly tasty looking Omelant. In the past he probably would have turned his nose up at this sort of food. How far the mighty can certainly fall, “How long do you suppose my would-be warden can successfully keep me here?” he asked all of a sudden. While this wasn’t the first time he had asked a question like this, this was the first time he followed it up with another one, “Surely they must know that no prison can hold me forever? Not so long as I have this.” he held up his right hand, revealing the pulsing glow of a golden triangle on the back of it just below the knuckles and above the wrist. He even clenched it into a fist, which appeared to almost make the glow brighten up further for a fleeting moment before it faded away, but he made no sudden moves, no attempts to attack or break his chains. Instead he just returned to his meal while awaiting her answer.
Toriel’s worried gaze rested on the sigil. It did look powerful, but after a little reflection that didn’t distress her nearly as much as Ganondorf’s question. “I’m…not sure.” She recalled the ‘warden’ who occasionally showed up to pay the King of Evil a visit. Though youthful in stature and temperament, he’d proven to be the exception when it came to Toriel’s love of children. His visits, infrequent and unpredictable to suggest that he came by on a whim, consisted more of taunting, gloating, and bothering Ganondorf with minions from a distance than any official business. Whether or not the Consul was responsible for imprisoning him in the first place, Toriel couldn’t even say. She sighed. “To be honest, well…I don’t really think he cares about you, one way or the other. I hesitate to speak ill of anyone, but he does seem to regard us all as no more than toys in his sandbox.”
“How interesting,” he said after enjoying another sip of the tea, “he does sound like quite the child, doesn’t he?” after this he had a bite of the mushroom salad, “Exquisite, by the way.” he said of the meal, “But even more interesting, is the thought of what this apparent child could possibly have that he could issue commands to a Queen.” that last line might have come as a surprise. Toriel hadn’t exactly told this prisoner much about herself personally. And yet here he was apparently aware that she was a Queen, or at least had been at one time, “Ah, my apologies, but I’ve been around enough royals to know one when I see one. And you, my dear, positively radiate with nobility and royalty.”
He fell back to silence again. Returning to his meal and allowing his present company a chance to react or respond however she saw fit to.
Toriel caught her breath, stepping back. After a moment, though, she swallowed, and lowered his brow with a look of resolution. “...Not anymore,” she told him. “My husband…he wanted what was best for everyone. But he was stubborn. Terribly, terribly stubborn. He kept on walking down the path he’d chosen, though we all knew it to be the wrong one. Even himself. So I couldn’t stand to be around him any longer.” She bent down to pick up Ganondorf’s tray, then met his eyes. “That’s just how it is. With kings, I suppose.”
“With weak kings, perhaps.” he said in surprising agreement, “For myself, I knew exactly what my goal was, and was every bit resolved to see it through to the bitter end.” this was the first time he’d said this much about his own personal history to her, “A pity that the one I thought I could trust did not agree with me.” he said, not exactly elaborating on who that was or the circumstances behind their apparent falling out, “But for what it was worth,” he held up his hand and the glow of the triangle revealed itself once again, “I at least got part of what I was after. And I did it without the aid of those traitors. So in the end I suppose I never needed them in the first place.”
This time, he didn’t see a whole lot of fear in Toriel’s eyes. Only sadness. “Everyone needs someone,” she murmured. “I thought I would be in a better place when I cut away all the others, and perhaps I am, but…loneliness, too, is a terrible thing. In the end, this is where we are.” Her gaze drifted around the Temple of the Black Egg.
“They betrayed me.” he said in a surprisingly defensive tone, “My quest for this power was for them, for us all. Before this we were little more than bandits living in a barren desert. I wanted more than that, and believed it was only right to share that desire with the others. This power would have given us the means to leave that wretched desert and stake a claim of our own in the world. But they were the ones who decided I had gone mad.” he stopped himself, realizing he was beginning to rant more than he’d originally intended. Despite all that happening years ago, it apparently still stung deep down on some level.
Toriel stepped back as the prisoner began his tirade, inadvertently yanking at his chains as he did. She stood in silence, half turned away, until he got a load off his chest. She couldn’t blame him for, well, blaming others. Or having a lot of bottled-up rage deep within. A situation like this seemed hellish from any standpoint, and yet, here he was, the same as her. Two ex-royals, ferreted away in the earth. “I want to believe that people get what they deserve,” she murmured. “Which means I have to believe you’re as evil as they say, to warrant such a fate.” Her face fell. “But…to be honest, while I’ve enjoyed taking care of you, I’ve been hoping that someday I’ll come and find you gone. Bound for a better life. Better people. Because then, having failed another lost soul, I could do the same.”
“You needn’t worry about that, my dear Jailer.” Ganondorf said with a smile. One last time he held up his right hand, this time the triangle’s glow appeared to be a bit brighter than before, as if it were gaining strength even as they spoke, “As I told you, this prison cannot hold me forever. This mark is the very symbol of power itself, and it always grows. My strength will return to me soon enough, and when it does…” he clenched his hand into a fist, letting the triangular mark give as bright of a glow as he could currently muster before slamming it into the black wall behind him. The most damage he caused was a few cracks forming where his fist had made contact. But the intended message was clear as day.
Toriel gave a humorless laugh, clearly done with the dangerous man’s bravado. “Then hurry, King of Evil. While I’m not around to stop you.”
Word Count: 699 (+1 Exp)
Level 3 Roxas (8=1=9/30)
Nyakuza -> Gutsford
The sight of the schools wasn't particularly impressive to Roxas. Of course, he was from Twilight Town, which was generally of a similar bustling nature. No, it was the sight of Midgar in the distance that really impressed him. He had never seen a city or structure that big before. The closest frame of reference he had was the Castle That Never Was or The Skein of Severance, but he didn't remember either one being quite like that. He stuck close to Princess Peach for the moment, as well as Blazermate seeing as how the robot girl insisted on holding his hand the whole time. But he was too busy taking in sights and sounds to let that bother him. As they walked, he heard Raz nearby asking about the Consuls and the Organization. Roxas decided to pitch in his two-cents.
"Well I dunno anything about those Consul guys," he said to Raz, "But the Organization has never been good to my memory. They had no problem with ruining and toying with people's lives to reach their goal. That's why I was surprised when some of you guys said they had been helpful." though now that he knew about Galeem and the bringing together of many worlds, it did make him wonder that this Organization might be vastly different if it had members from vastly different worlds. But even if it did... he was still certain it was likely being controlled by someone from his own world. Where else would they have learned the name and other conventions of the Organization except for from someone who had previously been a member themselves? And while Roxas could probably speculate as to who that might be, he chose not to for now.
"Honestly, Raz? I wouldn't put anything past the Organization. At least not the one I knew anyway." it didn't take much for him to realize that his answer was probably not the one Raz was hoping for, "But no matter what they're scheming, I promise I won't stop fighting." he said, hoping to sound reassuring.
Internally, however, Roxas was less sure. He kept thinking back to the Nyakuza Metro and just how easily he was taken down by an enemy. Now that his full memory had been restored, it became obvious to him that at some point he had lost a lot of the strength he previously had. He wasn't sure why, but he knew for sure that he was much stronger than this when he fought against Xemnas and Saix at the Keyblade Graveyard. So what had happened? Well, Galeem happened, obviously. And now here he was, feeling like a complete rookie again. He recalled Sora having gone through a similar situation, and wondered to himself if this was how he was feeling at that time.
As the group made their way around, it became incredibly obvious that the locals were suspicious of them. They would turn heads, or people give them uncomfortable looks everywhere they went. This eventually lead them into an alleyway, and slowly becoming surrounded by people following them. With no easy way to get out, it was beginning to look like they might be forced to fight their way out. Or they would, if not for the intervention of someone else. A nearby door into a pet shop opened up and a pair of suited men ushered the Seekers to come inside. Roxas had to admit this seemed suspect, but it was better than getting into another fight.
Raz had pointed out the people following them were from his own world. G-Men, he called them, and he also said they weren't supposed to physically exist, "Huh?" Roxas asked in surprise, "So wait, it sounds like you're saying Galeem can make imaginary people become real. But I can't even begin to imagine how that could even be possible... even for a God."
But the conversation had to be put on hold. For now, Raz pretended to be interested in shopping at the pet store. And Roxas, for his part, attempted to play along with him, "Oh, good idea, I'll go with you and help you pick something out!" and slipped in through the opened door.
Nyakuza Metro -> Dystopianscape
@Lugubrious | @Archmage MC Blazermate
Word Count: 1,742 (+3 Exp)
Level 3 Roxas (5+3=8/30)
Dive Into The Heart
When Roxas awoke, he found himself at the center of a large circular platform with nothing but endless darkness in all directions. And yet, despite the unfamiliarity, he still found himself at peace. Like he was somewhere familiar, yet... not. He looked down at the floor he stood on and took in the mural that appeared to be carved out of stained glass. It depicted a white room, with Thirteen figures sitting atop a circle of thirteen Thrones. All of them were hooded, save for the one sitting upon the lowest throne... Roxas. And in the center of the thrones stood a Fourteenth Figure, seemingly being welcomed by the Thirteen... or perhaps being judged. The vagueness of the mural made it hard to say one way or the other. And then, countless framed images began to appear in the air around Roxas. Each of them showing numerous moments in time, and all of them featuring him in some way. Almost like looking at an art exhibit themed around his own life. And then, on the opposite end of the platform, a door appeared. As if being drawn to it, Roxas instinctively walked forward and reached out a hand to open it. But it was locked, and so he instinctively drew his Keyblade to unlock it. But it wasn't either of his, instead the Keyblade looked much simpler, and was one he remembered belonging to another. Still, the weapon unlocked the door just the same, and it swung open wide, releasing a blinding light from behind it.
When his vision cleared back up, Roxas found himself elsewhere. It looked like Twilight Town, specifically the clock tower. He slowly walked toward the edge to look down, when a gloved hand rested on his shoulder and turned him around. Roxas saw a Tall Man in a black coat just like his own, eyes green and hair red like fire, "Say... what's most important to you?" he asked with a calm voice and friendly smile.
Roxas didn't even hesitate before he answered, "You are. All of you. My friends."
"That so?" replied the red-haired man with a grin, before he seemed to fade away from view. Roxas looked around, wondering where his friend had gone, when he saw Someone Else standing nearby. She was a girl, around his own age. She had the same black coat, and short raven-black hair. When she saw Roxas she gave him a warm smile.
"What do you dream of?" she asked in her usual sweet voice. That one actually made Roxas stop and think. What was his dream? The idea of a lifelong ambition had never once occurred to him before now. But he gave it a moment of thought and eventually answered her.
"I think... I wanna see more of what's out there. The town's nice and all, but a little exploration might be fun." he told her, eliciting a wider smile from her in response.
"The clock tower can seem a little cramped at times, huh?" and then, just like the first, she faded away from sight. This time Roxas looked around a bit more frantically, almost as if desperate to figure out where she'd gone. That was until one more familiar voice made itself known to him.
"What is it you fear?" Roxas turned around and saw a Blue-Haired Man with an x-shaped scar on his face, also wearing a black coat.
"Fear?" Roxas asked, but the man said nothing and simply waited for an answer to his question. There were some things Roxas could say, but only one of them kept cropping back up in his mind on a regular basis. With a bit of hesitance he finally said it aloud, "...Not being real."
The man looked away a bit, "...I see." he said, then vanished just like the first two. Upon this, the setting sun in the distance began to shine brighter, offering a blinding flash that stunned Roxas a moment. His vision soon cleared, and once again he was elsewhere.
It was another circular platform. The mural on this one appeared to split into two images. On one side was Roxas and the Red-Haired Man, weapons drawn and appearing to be ready to attack one another while surrounded by a wall of flame. And on the other side was a white, sterile room featuring a spherical white pod of some kind. Nearby it was a control console, as well as a Man Wrapped in Red Robes and a Girl In A White Dress appearing to observe the pod. And then, a stairway of rectangular platforms appeared and seemed to lead the way to another platform higher up. Roxas followed the path and then saw the second mural.
It depicted a group of Seven Lights and Thirteen Darknesses, about to fight a war in a barren world littered with hundreds of lifeless Keybladess. Roxas remembered this memory very clearly, and then followed a new stairway that led up up to a third and final platform. This time the mural featured a multitude of figures, impossible to identify, standing together on a cliff face as an Incomprehensible Enemy loomed above them. At this point, a group of Familiar Enemies appeared around him at once and poised to strike. Roxas drew the Keyblade once more to defend himself.
He easily deflected incoming attacks, sliding around each to get in a quick attack against their backs. These enemies were nothing new to him. Defeating them would be easy for him. It didn't take Roxas long to dispatch them all. But behind him, the Enemy from the mural had made itself appear. It lashed out with unstoppable tendrils of light that Roxas had no hope of defending against. And as he was attacked, Roxas began to feel a sense of deja vu. With one final volley of tendrils, the Enemy thought to finish Roxas off. As Roxas braced himself for the worst, he realized that the attack wasn't coming. A large, floating pink heart was blocking the attack before flying forward and colliding into the Enemy and seemingly shattering it into harmless sparks that quickly burnt out and faded away. And with a final flash of blinding light, Roxas began feeling his consciousness return to him... along with a single name that became burned into his memory.
Galeem
Black Line Train
Roxas's eyes fluttered opened as he was shaken, "Huh... wha-?" the first sight he saw was Blazermate standing over him, asking what had happened and if he was okay, "Invisible sniper... got the jump on me." he said, answering the first question, "And yeah, I'm fine now. Thanks Geralt, I owe you." he said to the Witcher sitting next to him. He didn't actually know that Geralt was responsible for healing him, but he had to at least have carried Roxas to the train. But he reached up a gloved hand and rubbed his temples. Sure, physically he was fine, but now he had even more questions that needed to be answered.
"It wasn't the Organization that took my friends," he said to no one in particular, "it was him wasn't it? Galeem." having been Freed, Roxas now remembered everything. He and his closest friends were attacked by monsters of Light before everything became a blur. And he also now knew that the Twilight Town he had just left was not the one he knew, "And that Town... it's not the Twilight Town I call home. Just a very convincing copy that that thing created... right?" strangely enough, even that was somehow not the first time Roxas had been living in a world that wasn't technically real, "First the Virtual Twilight Town and now this... I just can't seem to catch a break."
One thing was certain, he felt like he needed to talk to the Master of Masters more than ever. At first he was simply curious about the man, but now he legitimately felt like he was the only one who could give him some clarity on this whole mess of a situation.
For the rest of the train ride, Roxas asked a few questions of the others. Namely what the deal was with Galeem and how his influence apparently worked. He'd also learned that Geralt used something called a Friend Heart while Roxas was injured in order to break Galeem's hold on him. Naturally Roxas also asked how he could do that himself in case he needed to free others that he met. And he was also wondering how many back in Twilight Town were under Galeem's influence.
"If nothing else, I think..." he said, aloud to no one in particular, "...if I'm still alive after Galeem's attack, then my friends must be too, right? So all I have to do is find them and use one of those Friend Hearts to bring them back." at least his goal was clearer now. But he couldn't help but wonder how exactly the Organization fit into all this. He'd just have to see them for himself. And if they were indeed still up to no good... then he'd deal with them, just like he said he would. Besides, Roxas thought, it's what He would do if he were here right now.
Gutsford
After the train had finally reached its destination, Roxas joined the Seekers in disembarking. Blazermate had never left his side and in fact was practically dragging him around by the hand. This didn't really bother him at all, but his free hand did occasionally hover over the spot that was hit by Panther's shot. There was a noticeable tear there now, and that would bug him until he could fix it somehow.
"Uh, give me just a sec." he told Blazermate, freeing his hand from hers, "I've got to use the bathroom real quick, be right back." and he took off in search of a private room of some kind. It wasn't specifically a bathroom he needed, just a place to change his clothes. He didn't want to walk around in a damaged black coat, after all. And eventually he returned to others, but now dressed in his Casual Attire. He held his black coat slung over one shoulder.
"Alright, that's better." he said as he waited for Blazermate to inevitably grab a hold of his hand again, "Hope there's a tailor or something here who can fix the coat for me. Not a fan of wearing it, but it's too useful to throw away."
Moments before Rush Hour...
Nyakuza Metro was home to many establishments besides the trains and stations. There were some shops, cafe's, other places like that that lined the neon-lit corridors of the Metro. One such establishment was the Cat's Nip, a milk bar dimly lit and sporting a noir-esque atmosphere, complete with smooth jazzy music playing in the nearby jukebox. It only had a handful of patrons, generally being busier at night than in the afternoon. But among those patrons, a feline with dark purple fur sat at the edge of the bar by himself. He was adorned in a dark, bluish-purple suit accented by silvery-white armored parts. He looked like he had just stepped out of a spaceship, which wasn't actually too far off from the truth. He sipped on his shot glass of sweetened milk, a white line visible on his fur coat. Technically it was a just a white patch among an otherwise pure purple coat, but from a distance it almost looked like a scar.
He sat, looking almost bored. Whether he was there for business or just waiting for someone would soon be irrelevant, for the Panther then heard something that made his black ears perk right up. A voiced announcement offering a million per head on some group that apparently had entered the Metro. Well, the Panther was normally a fighter pilot by trade, but such a profitable bounty hunting job wasn't something he was about to pass up. And nether was anyone else for that matter, as he began to notice felines all over the metro run rough-shod everywhere in search of these targets. The Panther downed the last of his milk and calmly stood up from his stool. As he walked toward the door he used his claws to flick some pons over onto the counter to pay his tab.
"Time to make some money." he said softly to himself in a low voice that almost sounded like a pur. He slowly walked out into the crowded Metro and appeared to just vanish into thin air.
Rush Hour
While all the other cats flooded the Metro like some kind of swarm, an invisible figure stalked the rooftops and other hard-to-reach areas closer to the ceiling of the underground metro. Made invisible by a personal cloaking device he wore on his hip, the invisible feline made swift and silent leaps between footholds. His speed and acrobatic skill were quite superior to the common cats currently flooding the grounds. His pale yellow eyes pierced the shadows of the metro with nocturnal vision. This meant that even if one of his quarry were trying to hide, he'd still find them easily enough.
Before long, his feline eyes caught glimpse of someone. Multiple someones actually. They were making a mad dash, appearing to follow the signs leading toward the Black Line. Rather than charge in head first, the cunning Panther instead decided to head them off. He used his own familiarity with the area to quickly and smoothly position himself in what he believed would be the path they'd take. He watched one of them perform a powered punch that resulted in him and a some others falling through the lower zones. Meanwhile the short kid in goggles kept along the path that the stalker had predicted. And quickly catching up to him was a taller kid in a black coat. But it looked like they had gotten a little bit ahead of their compatriots. Good, that would make them much easier pickings.
The stalker silently moved in closer, still invisible thanks to his device. He reached an invisible hand for a blaster pistol on his hip and drew the weapon from it's holster. He had to make sure this first shot counted, because the sound would give his ambush away immediately afterward. He trained it on his target, focusing on them down the barrel and wisely choosing to lead them for a moment before...
As Roxas ran behind Raz, he started to get a bad feeling. The kind you get when you're being watched. And yet every time he looked around he never saw anyone other than the swarm of cats chasing them. But he couldn't let his nerves get the best of him, one wrong move could spell the end. And death by a thousand cat claws didn't exactly sound pleasant. And then Roxas jumped over an overturned trash bin. While in midair he heard a loud buzz and then suddenly felt a sharp, burning pain in his side. An energy bolt had struck him in his right side, fired from the gun of an invisible shooter. The shot knocked Roxas off his balance and he tumbled to ground and groaned in pain.
"What... what hit me?" he said between painful breaths, desperately trying to push himself back onto his feet. Before he could, he saw a figure appear to flicker into existence. Another cat, but different from the others. He had a blaster pistol trained on him, ready to fire one more shot directly at Roxas' forehead.
"My humblest apologies, boy." said the Panther in his low, pur-like voice, in what almost sounded like a Spanish accent, "But I'm afraid I must kill you."
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