paixaorpg | Making an escape. [Completed]

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Making an escape. [Completed]

Character(s): Marluxia and Ansem
Content: Marluxia awakens out of his stupor of healing in one of Ansem's machines, and gets a visit.
Setting: Fortress of Darkniss~
Time: Tuesday night, while Greed, Vicious, and Hojo are out at the gates waiting for victims.
Warnings: None for the moment. Mention of nude-ness? Some KH2 spoilers.

Darkness was the first thing, just like before. His eyes were open this time, however. And he could move, which was a cause for celebration, should he had cared more. He closed his eyes again - not that it was any darker that way - and leaned his head back against the chamber. He couldn't remember much from earlier, just the Superior attacking him, before moving on to Zexion.... then he had passed out.

He wasn't really that weak, was he?

He brought a hand to run along the wall of the chamber in front of him, frowning. His leg didn't hurt anymore. Everything felt fine except for a dull ache between his eyes. And being disgustingly dirty, also, but he could deal with that. At least he was alive.

The question was: why? Who had healed him?

Marluxia pushed on the door of the chamber, hard, clamping his eyes shut from the light that stabbed at him. How long had he been in this thing? Apparently, it was some sort of healing contraption. The fact that he was naked hadn't occured to him yet, or rather, maybe he didn't care. With a stumble, he found himself outside the stasis chamber, on the floor. He chanced a glance at his previously injured leg to see nothing. Nothing but a rough, jagged scar, and rivers of dried, cracking blood. The Superior had gone insane. Absolutely fucking insane. That could have easily killed him, or handicapped him permanently. What in the world was their leader thinking?

He hadn't been like this earlier. Was he slipping? Losing confidence? Patience? All questions running through the Nobody's head as he scrambled to stand up on wobbly legs, supporting himself on a bright silver table. The one he had been on earlier, perhaps?

His neck was weighed down by the collar from earlier. He remembered that. He didn't even try to waste energy on removing it, as he doubted it could easily be gotten rid of. And it took away his power, and his sense of control of the situation. He was starting to hate this. A lot.

Cautiously opening his eyes, he found himself in a lab of some sort, full of instruments he was not familiar of. Vexen was the scientist of the group, after all. His black coat - the one he was never seen without - was draped over the table he was leaning on. Without a thought, he slowly picked it up, putting it on. Amazing how no joint hurt, no trace of his injuries remained. Except for the dull thumping in his head. Had he been more clear-headed, he would have been angry at the fact that all of his clothing was gone.

No, maybe he was wrong. There were his boots, standing alone to the side. Testing his now-steady legs, he made his way to them, putting them on with a grace he was afraid he had lost.

The one who helped him he had been ordered to get rid of. But maybe a thank you was in order, first.

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Shortly after his servants had all left to wait by their respective gates, Ansem felt a stirring in the adjoining laboratory. The Nobody's readings were strong; he was nearly at full health once more.

And it seemed he had awakened. Ansem prepared a special cage while he waited to see what his guest would do.

Nothing, apparently.

Having deemed a few minutes' privacy enough, Ansem opened the door to the laboratory where he had left the Non-existent one.

"Good morning," he greeted him with a smile. "I trust your rest was a pleasant one?"

He had wasted the time dressing himself. How very amusing.

"I don't think this constitutes as a 'good morning'." Pointing at the collar with one hand, he glared at the man who reminded him too much of who had inflicted this pain on him. Rubbing a wrist absently, he stood up straight, trying to maintain threads of his dignity.

"I suppose I owe you thanks for my good health. But I'm left with the question of why you wasted the effort upon me."

Unappreciative? Him? Never.

"No, I suppose not. It is after midnight, after all." Ansem smirked, saying nothing of the restraining collar.

"If you wish to thank me, you may do so by answering a few questions I have." Producing a pen and notebook, seemingly from nowhere, Ansem smiled. "It will not be a wasted effort if I gain knowledge from our interaction.

For example: What is your number?"

He sat down at the research desk chair, pen at the ready, the picture of professionalism.

Marluxia kept his eyes boring at Ansem, fists clenched. He was not liking the situation in the least bit. Lest of all that he had been aided by the enemy. And the want for revenge against the Superior for such a grave injustice helped fuel his anger, too. If only he had a heart, he could feel true rage. But this? This would have to do, for the moment.

He snorted at the question disapprovingly. "Eleven."

"Eleven," Ansem repeated. "That's very interesting." His pen scratched furiously across the paper for a few moments before he looked up at the subject. "Tell me: do you know of Nine and Ten?"

And then, to himself, he murmured, "How far did the experiments go, I wonder?"

"I know of all of them, of course. I'm sure you know all about our little...group." The last word was said with some sort of contempt.

He vaguely wished he was elsewhere. Or at least that his scythe was close at hand. Patience was required. He'd find a way out soon enough.

Curious.

He had not expected the subject to take kindly to being studied, but it seemed to have more malice than it knew how to deal with.

"I do not, in fact," Ansem answered. "Please, enlighten me."

Funny that he thought Marluxia would just spill all of their secrets easily. "There's nothing to know that you can't discover from mere observation." He paused, giving a look around the room. "A scientist such as yourself should easily be able to learn everything you are curious about."

Ansem frowned slightly. Free will had been such an important element in the experiment, but it could be so bothersome. He picked up his notebook and stood.

"I do intend to observe, of course. But social interaction will have to wait until I have acquired more of you.

If you choose to be difficult, I can of course merely take you apart to find out what I wish to know. However, I think you will find it more pleasant if you cooperate.

I have been a generous host thus far, Number Eleven. Do not test my patience."

He lifted his eyebrows in surrender. "I test nothing. I'm just telling you fact. Besides~" he made the word end in a sing-song voice, "I'm not the most vastly informed of us."

He walked closer to Ansem, studying him. "Though I suppose I owe you a favor. I can't just pretend you haven't helped me, now can I?"

This Nobody had an unusual amount of...personality. Was that what the focus of his experiment had been.

So dramatic. And so unlike the young man from which he had been made. Briefly, Ansem wondered just what had become of Even's assistant.

Ansem began making notes again, apparently unaffected by the Nobody's prancing around. "If you are not the most informed, then which of you is? Have you a leader in this group of yours?"

He was eager to know just how their social group was organised.

"Oh, we have a leader. We call him the Superior, as he is above all of us." He laughed lightly. The whole situation was quite ironic. "How funny that he knows of you, yet you remain unaware of him."

Ansem's eyes narrowed and he looked up from his notes.

No. It couldn't be.
He had done away with...

"Does this Superior of yours have a number?" Ansem's eyes glowed softly, the look in them intense as any bird of prey.

Marluxia gave him a blank stare. "Of course he does. He is number one, our Superior."

He caught sight of the other's glowing eyes, and gave a curt chuckle. "Do you understand who he is, now?"

"Number One?!" Ansem growled in fury, leaping out of his chair with enough enthusiasm to send it careening across the room where it collided with the wall and tipped over. His notebook and pen flew to the floor in simultaneous rage.

"How can that BE?! I destroyed him! That...that ABOMINATION! That...NOTHING! Why does he yet LIVE?!"

There was not room enough in the cosmos for the both of them. Ansem was blind with rage to discover Number One still dared continue his non-existence.

"Number Eleven!" he snarled, pointing a commanding finger at the Nobody in question. "You will tell me everything I need to know about this group Number One has assembled. What its purpose is. Where its base of operations is. And any other information you have which will assist me in obliterating that...creature once and for all."

The look on his face said Ansem meant business.

Marluxia didn't move from his spot as he watched the example of rage. How peculiar. At least he understood now.

"Obliterating?" He lifted his eyebrows with his question. Maybe this would be useful after all. He ran a hand through his hair absently. "We are only Nobodies. The Organization has no base of operations. We go where we are told." Not that they had much choice in the matter. "Our purpose..." he paused. It seemed all of them had a different goal set in mind. They were an organization only in name, truly. "We only want what Nobodies do not possess. The Superior is after something much more.... fulfilling, however. What man at his core truly wants."

Finally, Number Eleven was beginning to cooperate. He listened intently as the Nobody spoke. However, when he told of what their goal was, Ansem could not suppress gales of deep-chested laughter.

"Surely you jest!" He erupted into more laughter. "You seek...Hearts?!" Oh, that was intensely amusing. "Your own, or do you feel that any might do?"

Once he overcame his amusement, however, Ansem focused once more on the task at hand. "You speak in riddles, Number Eleven." He looked at the Nobody for a moment, becoming thoughtful.

Ansem began to walk around the robed figure, slowly, his expression deviously contemplative.

"I sense in you no abiding loyalty to Number One, Number Eleven. Tell me, what is it you desire - apart from your Heart, of course?"

Having been created after Number Eight meant Number Eleven was prone to the egotism and treachery free will allowed. Ansem hoped to exploit it for his own purposes.

His face was blank again as he watched Ansem's amusement. It wasn't particularly humorous to himself.

And then he was circled, slowly, like prey. "I have my loyalties to him, of course." He said nothing more on the subject as he moved along. "I told you. I desire nothing more than to become what I once was. Isn't it natural to strive to gain what one has lost?" He paused for a minute, thinking. "Though I can't say I enjoy this collar on me. But I suppose you can't take chances, now can you?"

"It is natural for one such as yourself, who is incomplete. But not for those such as I, who have become so much more than what we once were.

And how deep are these loyalties to him, Number Eleven? Tell me: how is it you came to be so grievously injured as you were when I found you?

You owe me your life. Twice over, by my reckoning, and yet I do not demand it. Tell me: does your Superior demand it of you when you fail him?"

Ansem stopped his pacing, standing right behind the Nobody. He leaned forward, placed a hand on his shoulder, and spoke in his ear.

"You will find me a much more kind and equitable Superior than Number One. Join me. Help bring about his undoing, and I shall fulfill your desire. Prove your trustworthiness to me, and I shall restore your powers.

I know who you once were, Number Eleven. Who else in your acquaintance can boast as much?"

"You give me such a tempting offer." Did he really believe Ansem was capable of killing the Superior? Not really. But beggars can't be choosers.

"I used to be quite loyal to him. His recent actions, however, have caused me to doubt how truly fit a leader he is. He is quite careless when dealing with other lives."

He listened further to what Ansem promised him. Most tempting. But of course, there is always a price. "And how do I know you shall not do the same? I have lived my life as a puppet with no remorse, but no puppet can enjoy being thrown away by its master."

"The answer is very simple, Number Eleven: I value life as Number One does not. And I do not offer you another stage on which to dance as puppet, but a position of co-conspirator and partner."

He began to pace once more, hands held casually behind his back.

"Not an equal partnership, to be sure, but it is still an offer far better than the one from which your recent near-death almost parted you. Is it not?

I can also offer you work which may begin that process you are so desirious of. For the Heart is the seat of memory, is it not?"

He was behind the Nobody, whispering temptations to him once more.

"You know nothing of who you once were. Join me in my experiments, Number Eleven. Take up your lab coat and reclaim your identity!"

"A partnership?" Traitorous thoughts ran through his mind quickly, and he quite liked their presence. He did not need some shade of Darkness telling him that he had no loyalty left to the Superior, however. Though he would keep it seeming as such.

Of course it was a foolish choice. Any idiot could see Ansem was not the most truthful man alive. But, this surely would have consquences in his favor. Plus? No collar. He was pretty much stuck on that point. He gave a small smile as Ansem finished his talk of temptations. How interesting this would turn out to be. "I think I shall have to take you up on this offer."

He would wait behind the sidelines to see how this would play out.

Ansem's lips curled in a smile. "You will not regret that decision, Number Eleven.

Now. If you would care to follow me out into the main laboratory, I shall apprise you of our plans for the evening..."

Ansem led the way out the door, not yet removing the Nobody's collar, but allowing him his freedom little by little.

"I can only only hope that I do not. Please, lead the way." Giving a last look to the forgotten stasis cell of his healing, he followed Ansem out the door, glad to be rid of the room.

Ansem spent the next hour showing the Nobody around the laboratory and explaining the key equipment. He was a born teacher, and patient - moreso than his student - but Ansem made a great allowance for the fact he had no memory of the competent laboratory assistant he had once been. For the sake of that man, Ansem took his time and showed tolerance for the prima donna personality the Nobody kept evidencing.

It amused him, to a certain degree.

Ansem could never have conceived of this scenario two days before, which made his plan all the more brilliant. If he could convince the Nobody he had gained his trust, he could in turn gain its trust and find out all he needed to know about this organization of Number One's.

Finally, nothing was as important as destroying that imposter.

He did not feel this eleventh experiment of Enzo's posed any threat to himself, and so whatever liberties he allowed it, whatever trust he pretended to bestow upon it was ultimately inconsequential.

Once the tour of the laboratory was complete, he explained his plans for the evening to his new assistant, temporarily assigning him the duty of watching over the prisoners while Ansem himself went to the Muspelheim Gate to await new test subjects.

When he returned, they could sort the newly-acquired subjects together. Ansem trusted Number Eleven's abilities in this more than he did Mr. Hojo's. Then again, a mentally deficient court jester was more competent in his opinion, so perhaps that was not so great a compliment after all.

Having informed Number Eleven of all these things and given him his assignment, Ansem opened a Dark Gate to Muspelheim and stepped through to wait. Life was made so much easier by something so simple as a handful of assistants. He would have to find more in the near future.

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Making an escape. [Completed]

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