Larxikoma Days
Mini-epilogue to Guns of Ishikawa.(3.12.07).
They'd never spoken to each other about what had occurred. There was no need to, what with her returning to Marluxia's confidences, and his own resumed duties as a senior of the Organization. They had gone on a simple mission together, and that mission had concluded itself.
A burned and gutted apartment was enough proof of that.
But on their way to Castle Oblivion -- something about his calibrations had been wrong, shunted aside by a particularly strong patch of Darkness that had its own ideas of what it wanted the regional power to do -- Lexaeus found the path twisting in his control. Heartless buffeted at their guardian Dusks; Lexaeus scowled, watching portal after portal slip out of his hands, until he brought them down safely on the nearest available world.
They landed on a road that was bathed in the familiar apocalypse brought on by the Darkness: the sky overhead was a sea of ink, and few living humans were in sight. The street was a wasteland of overturned cars, dropped newspapers, a few discarded guns. A sign dangled crazily from the nearest store, featuring some sort of digital fried chicken experience.
It was Larxene who spoke up first.
"This looks familiar."
Lexaeus grunted.
As they walked along the road, hunting out a more stable presence of Darkness to transfix their exit from, they found their path blocked by a curving blue shell that had crashed in a pile of automobiles. At first, Lexaeus simply thought to move around it or climb over it, or destroy the thing, but Larxene made a startled noise in her throat, knocking his hand away when he began to signal for the Dusks.
"It's one of the racing machines!" Giving his arm a hard shove, she pressed, "Don't you remember?"
"I try not to," was his cool response, turning his head away; memory violated their unspoken agreement, but Larxene ignored such things at will, just as she had darted away from his side, away towards the machine.
By the time Lexaeus resigned himself to looking back, she'd already crawled on top of the robot, straddling it like a kid with a particularly fat horse.
"This deviates from our schedule, Larxene."
"Shut up."
Lightning crackled around her in a halo, coiling like a snake before diving into the metal. The electricity lit up the street in a ghastly display; a few clumps of Heartless reared up from the ground, attracted by the power, but they moved on once they realized there was no prey to fill their bellies.
At first there was nothing. Then, slowly, one of the internal rotors wheezed. The machine shifted its weight underneath Larxene, coming alive piece by piece.
It swiveled the white sphere on its head, giving an investigative beep.
Larxene's fingers fed it another dose of lightning.
Now it seemed that vocal processors were coming back online: "Request... identification?"
Whoever had programmed the machine had a sick sense of humor; even distorted and crackling, the robot sounded like a particularly hopeful little girl. Lexaeus crossed his arms. "Larxene --"
"Ignore him." Grinning like a maniac, Larxene crouched her weight down, bracing her gloves on the smooth machinery. "I'm your operator now," she informed it silkily. "We've got to go look for the rest of your friends. You want to do that, don't you?"
When it hesitated, she channeled another dose of electricity into its guts until it squeaked a confused affirmation.
Six legs gathered themselves together, tipping the weight of the machine back upright. Larxene held on gamely; she grinned down towards Lexaeus as the tachikoma made experimental clicks of its guns and oriented itself properly. "You can go on ahead," she informed him. "I'll catch up with you later."
- fin