Fic: Headlines, Chapter 1
Title: Headlines (1 of ?)
Author: lostscore
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3700+
Pairings/Warnings/Spoilers: Axel/Demyx, AU, Character Death. You might see a little Demyx/Zexion if you don't blink and miss it.
Summary: When Demyx, a poor reporter and worse writer barely clinging to his job is forced to cover the story of the death of one of his only friends, he decides to start fresh in a new world. His new boss is practically a criminal, his new colleagues are strange and he's stuck covering the very thing he wanted to escape in the first place.
Author's Notes: I haven't written in awhile, so what do I do? Start a new fic. I like fiction about Journalism and Mysteries and stories where people are uprooted and dumped into a situation they're totally not used to. Also, like usual, I think I read somewhere that people wanted some more Axel/Demyx. Or something.
Demyx Strife had grown up in Twilight Town. He was a small man of the sort that went unnoticed in a large crowd. Insides writhing like snakes poised to strike, nerves as taught as rubber bands. People could see it in his face, but never asked, would rather change the subject than make it their problem. Carried with him what he supposed was an uneasy childhood, full of being picked last for sports teams, bare pass grades and teachers that merely smiled nodded and repeated the words of encouragement the school had said all children should hear: You can do anything if you just try. Went to the college his parents told him to go to, dropped out after a half a year to go looking for a job. He’d tried.
While brother Cloud went off to join the army, Demyx circled the help-wanted-ads in his parents’ basement. Smears of red and blue ink covering his fingers and white socks. Both mother and father passed away in a few short years of each other and the basement became a rented room. Landlord barely there, money from the will covering the necessities.
One day he banged into the tall red-head. Clumsy Demyx with newspaper and cooling coffee in hand, deep in his daily perusing of the want-ads and failing to see the mountain of a man that was blocking the sidewalk. The drink scalded his fingers and a dark, spreading stain was leaking across the man’s pristine white shirt front.
“Sorry it’s ruined…” wanted to add ‘…but I’ll buy you a new one’ and naturally couldn’t.
The other man seemed unabashed by the accident. “Not really.” He said, giving Demyx a rare smile. Hesitantly returned, must be a fake. “I’ll get it dry cleaned tomorrow.” Pulling his suit jacket from a computer bag, covering the mess with sleek black. Another rare smile for Demyx.
Lexaeus Waters became his friend. Bought him expensive coffee with whipped crème and caramel, spoke slowly and humbly although in time Demyx came to recognize him for one of the foremost and top-paid newspapermen in the world. Finally handed over a business card, told him to stop by the Sunset office when he felt like it. They were looking for an on-call writer and photographer to cover the stories the regular staff didn’t get to. Didn’t want to constantly hire unreliable freelancers. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll enjoy it!”
With his inheritance dwindling, Demyx was willing to let a stranger’s kindness change his life. He went, apprehensive and expecting very little. Good Samaritan Helps Out Longtime Loser. Failure Imminent.
***
“This would be Xemnas’ office. I’ve told him as much as I can about you Demyx. I wouldn’t harp on your situation much. It will reflect in your favour if you don’t cry or speak of the tragedy you’ve been through.” He paused and swallowed. “Loosing your parents, I mean. He’s not sympathetic: entirely business minded..”
Demyx nodded but it seemed as though Lexaeus was speaking a foreign tongue. He didn’t feel the kind of crushing grief people always seemed to describe when his parents died, just another failure to add to the list. They were good people but had never really tried to make a difference in his life. He’d lived with them first then tried to do what they wanted, failed and they just accepted that as though it was an inevitability that couldn’t be changed. The two walked side-by-side down the hall, Lexaeus calm and silent as ever but Demyx a live-wire, about to explode.
Lexaeus nodded once at him before they parted company, escaping to the rat’s maze of cubicles that represented a steady job. Demyx pressing forward.
Xemnas wasn’t a loud or big man, but he was attractive, professional and secure in the knowledge he was both intimidating and in charge. Had long fallen in love with himself, liked to hear himself talk. Liked that Demyx let him.
“I’ll hire you to this paper on the condition that you cover what I tell you to. I don’t need any third-rate ideas about Journalism from a hack.” He said in his smooth, deep voice. “No experimenting, and I don’t need your opinion. Just complete the assignments and we will get along fine.”
“Yes sir. I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for hiring me.”
“Head up to the ninth floor offices. Third door on your right - that’s Namine’s office. She’s our copy editor- will set you up with a cell phone and camera. I’ll call you with your assignments as they come in. Leave as soon as you receive the call. Don’t use the phone for any personal calls, business and emergency only. Leave a blank check if you can at the front when you leave, ask whoever is on desk for a direct deposit slip.”
Demyx nodding, trying to take the information in. Went stumbling in a surreal haze into the elevator. Namine a petite blonde who still looked like a little girl despite the fact that closer examination revealed crow’s feet and laugh lines marring her soft features.
“Here you are, Sir. Welcome.” Uneasy smiles passed around. A cold lump of black plastic that was both alien and too heavy in his fingers.
“Thank you.” What else to be said? Painstakingly filled out a direct deposit form and left it with the pudgy receptionist whom he would later know as ‘Pence.’.
The next few months passed in a whirlwind. Demyx met his colleagues and expanded his horizons. First, there was Pence and Namine’s engagement party. He had a drink. Met the other employees. There was Leon and Aerith: a married couple covering city politics together. Tifa, an attractive woman who claimed to have broken into the reporting business as a food critic since her breasts which were indeed quite large had always gotten her free dinners. Zexion, the paper’s managing editor. A strange young man who seemed to look right through you, rewrote pieces impassively so that you didn’t know whether he liked you or not. Had a habit of licking his lips, almost seductively. Demyx licking his in return one day, caught himself and took the afternoon off. Had never considered the possibility he might be attracted to another man. Wouldn’t let that become yet another failure of his existence, particularly not now when things were starting to work in his favour finally.
Then, there was the living in constant fear that the next rent wouldn’t be paid. Somehow, a big story always came through and saved him by a bare margin in time. Then Lexaeus, constantly including Demyx in his plans. He’d stop by with foreign cheese and wines, a wizard in vegetarian dishes. Tried to light a fire under Demyx over these meals, strived to improve his writing. Every word of advice just confused him more. Demyx always nodded just to seem smart - a habit he’d never lost from his years of fumbling in school.. Write what you know…do what you know. Same thing, at least it was constant. Schedules were understood.
“I have an announcement.” Lexaeus said one evening at dinner. Demyx smiled. Just the two of them there, must be something funny. “I’m going on vacation for three weeks. To the Twilight Town beach.”
Demyx clapped enthusiastically as a joke, they smiled at one another. The blonde offered to water his plants and take in the mail, just like a good friend should.
A week later, the call came. Xemnas himself on the line. “Demyx. Hop on the train and get down to the beach. Lexaeus is there for his holiday, but I can’t get ahold of him to cover the story. Boat went under, lots of death, great stuff. Get on it. Take pictures. Pence should be back with your train tickets by the time you arrive.”
Feeling important, although it had been quite clear from Xemnas’ tone that he would have preferred a more experienced reporter to cover the story and this was a last resort, Demyx arrived at the office to accept the train tickets from Pence. The receptionist wished him luck in his usual friendly way, which had gotten more pronounced after his marriage to Namine. Demyx supposed that the soft-spoken editor had told her new husband of the constant, pathetic errors in his writing.
The train jostled him back and forth for a few hours and it was a quick walk to the beach, no need to rent a car or hail a tram. Paramedics were still there, and he snapped a few pictures of the crane towing the small outboard into shore before creeping towards the white ambulance and figures moving about the still form on the stretcher.
“No Press.” One red-faced and young policeman said firmly, barring Demyx’s path and giving him a stern look. “You people are vultures, honestly.”
A flash of orange-red hair against white. “I’m…he’s my friend!” he blurted. Pushing past the young cop, barely registering the indignant shouts.
Demyx pulled up just short of the stretcher, looking at the blue-tinted and clearly dead face of his only friend. His lips and skin were swollen with water, his shorts and plain t-shirt were soaked and stuck to his body. He didn’t even look asleep, like his parents had at their funeral.
Fighting the urge to vomit, Demyx let himself be removed from the area by the cop, walked away halfway through his warning not to continue to disturb the peace.
Found a post office in the seaside town and telegraphed a message about Lexaeus to Xemnas along with his letter of resignation. Dropped the black cell phone into a courier package. Stumbled over to the pay phone. Couldn’t stay here any more. He had to run away. Please, please, please don’t let him fail at that too.
“Hello, I’d like to place a collect call to Destiny Islands…Cloud Strife…His brother, Demyx.”
“…Demyx?”
Thank God.
***
The next day there was a check sitting on the foldaway table that had served as Demyx’s eating surface, covering the last of his rent. He was on the latest Gummi Ship offworld, headed to where his brother was currently stationed in the Destiny Islands. Leaving Xemnas and Namine and Lexaeus’ dead body behind, but not the Newspaper business.
Cloud had asked him what he’d been doing, then said he knew a guy who might be able to get him a job.
When he landed, his brother was there to greet him, waving calmly with a heavily-muscled arm. “I got you your job.” He said by way of greeting. “Axel - he’s the owner of the local paper, says he just needed a new guy to cover the accidents. Dunno how you got yourself into writing, but it’s apparently a good job. Very important. Naturally, I didn’t tell him how you usually get on with the important stuff, but hopefully you won’t screw up like usual. C’mon, kid, let’s mosey.”
Demyx didn’t bother to respond to the jibe, he was too busy trying to come to terms with his brother’s explanation of the job he’d found for him. Covering accidents? When he’d failed at covering the last one? When his best friend had been killed by one? Man Fails at Running Away After All.
***
The next day he was up before Cloud, following directions to the newspaper office off a piece of paper left next to his coffee cup. Four children raced past him, three boys, two who were short with spiky hair, a silver-haired boy who could have been related to Xemnas and a red-headed girl. Demyx caught a snippet of their conversation as their voices faded up the lane.
“Hey, did you see him? He’s new here! Probably from another world!”
“Come on Riku, you’re always thinking about weird stuff like that.” The girl.
“Yeah, it’s not important. He didn’t look exciting.”
The story of his life. Demyx continued on, finally coming to the town. He spotted the kids again, untying rowboats down the pier. They watched him more carefully this time as he approached, the paper office was right next to the water, as Cloud had stated.
Tried the door. Open, but the lights were off, not a flicker of movement. Backed into something in the dark and upset a pile of papers that spilled onto the floor. Picked them up as best he could, tripped on the way out.
If Cloud had been a different sort of person, this might have been a joke. Cloud was as serious as ever though, so something else must be wrong. He’d get a coffee, think about it. Maybe they were all out covering stories.
He turned into the café and felt the frigid air-conditioning blast full in his face. He ordered a coffee he couldn’t really afford and had to wait while the bartender made the hot drink that wasn’t often ordered in the tropical climate of Destiny Islands. Ended up upsetting that too, watching almost dumbfounded as the dark spill dribbled over the side of the table and into the grain of the rug.
Muttering apologies to the waitress who had already headed back to the kitchen, he chose a booth and sat to read a copy of the paper he may or may not actually be employed at. Staring at the headline of the front page, Demyx decided that the heretofore empty newspaper office might not be such a bad thing. He couldn’t write this kind of stuff.
The Sunset was a myriad of small startup business news and political opinions on local government affair. Every bit of it an impersonal and factual breeding ground for reporters designed to extol the news and nothing else. The headline story of the Island Post was the polar opposite: a homegrown account of the local school kids’ fall return to their studies, expounded upon by accounts of local parents lamenting the rising price of school supplies. These were stories that garnered the sympathies of a close-knit community. Next was the ‘international news’ which consisted of a brief account of doings in far-off Port Royal and something about the King of Disney that Xemnas would have said wasn’t fit for a tabloid. Both of them written by someone named Luxord. The stock-report was equally brief, penned by ‘Dilan’. ‘Braig’ had posted a couple of want-ads, along with a human interest story about someone who had taken home videos of falling stars. Editor Axel printed and answered a few letters, again in that alien personable tone. Then, at the very end, but probably what Demyx decided everyone must read first: a truly brilliant and incredible gossip column, a scandal sheet bordering on the libelous. Titled ‘Heartless’ and the byline stamped as ‘Xaldin’.
“You there!”
Demyx looked up from perusing ‘Heartless’ with the uncomfortable feeling of being caught red-handed at eavesdropping. The man in the corner with the eye patch was waving to get his attention, and he shrank back.
“You must be Demyx.”
Demyx got up, made his way over to the other side of the man’s booth. “How did you know?”
“Hell, some of the kids saw ya bungling around the Island office. Knew it was you when you upset the coffee too. I’m Braig. Editor in Chief. Sit down kid. Have a beer.” All said in one, lazy drawl of breath.
Demyx sat down. Declined the drink. Foreign Man Recognized For Clumsiness: Locals Amused.
“So, you’re the new guy.” Braig gulped down a third of the beer, looked Demyx over. “From the city huh? You’ll find that nothing on an Island opens early.”
“Yeah.” Demyx nodded agreement. Decided to voice his fear. “He wants me to cover accidents and stuff. Don’t know why, I couldn’t do it in the city. I ran away when my friend got killed and didn’t cover the story.”
To his surprise, Braig laughed as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Hah, that’s Axel for you. Doesn’t want to face his own fear, so he makes every one else do it for him. At least you’re taking the job. I’ll tell you somethin’ about Axel. You see those kids that play down by the island just off the shore? Leave every day on a little boat. Just about the time that you woulda come in.”
Demyx thought a moment, then nodded. “Four of them, right? Three boys and a girl?”
“Yeah, that’d be them. Anyway, ol’ Axel didn’t used to be the editor on the paper. Used to work on the Island Fire Department. So last summer we had a real dry spell. Good forest fire weather. Palm trees igniting for no reason every day. Fire Department’s busy as sin. It so happens that a breeze kicks up and one of these little brush fires goes shootin’ off down the row. Set fire to the house of the school’s science teacher, Even.”
“Axel didn’t get there in time, huh?” Demyx guessed.
“Too right he didn’t. There’s more than that though. He and Even weren’t exactly friends. Couple of people figured he did it on purpose, got a good rumor going. Because he got there late, I mean. Even himself killed gettin’ his kids outta the blaze and the fire department showing up a split second after he’d burned to death in that house. In the end, they hadda let Axel off. No proof, y’see? But they couldn’t let him back on the force either. Those little kids were left without a father. You shoulda seen what it did to Axel. Begged to save the kids a fate at the orphanage. Whole mess tied up for days in court and that was a real newsworthy wreck if there ever was one.”
“Didn’t the children have a mother?”
“Ah, now that was a bit of a sad thing. Knew Even a bit myself. Married Larxene, who everyone knew was screwin’ around with Marluxia. Guy’s a botanist, lives clear across the other side of the island. They - Even and Larxene that is, divorced eventually and Ms. Larxene made it quite clear she didn’t want the little parasites. You ask me, those kids are better off with Axel - if ever there was a lady not fit to raise…well anyway - these two twin boys were eventually left to Axel’s care.”
“Identical?” Demyx asked, trying to recall.
“Fraternal. Roxas and Sora. That’s the blonde and the brunette, both with that spiked up hair.”
“Axel’s not…?” Demyx trying to see the problem, made a motion towards a lewd gesture.
“Oh nonono. Nothin’ like that. Couldn’t ask for a more loving foster parent. Raises ‘em as though they were his flesh and blood, Axel does. It’s just…well, Sora, Sora I guess’ll tolerate the poor guy. Roxas however hates him.”
“So, Axel wanted someone to cover the disasters, cause he can’t stand it.”
“Right in one. You pick things up like that and you might last yet.”
Demyx mulled that one over. He wasn’t used to being told he did stuff right. Felt a bit more knowledgeable about life on Destiny Islands. “Xaldin?” he guessed.
“Hah, no.” Braig seemed to glare at Demyx. That eyepatch was intimidating. Foreign Man Found Dead after Bar Fight: Guilty of Insulting Local’s Integrity. He laughed instead though. “Nah, I mind my own business, though since you’re on the paper now I guess you can be let in on trade secrets. Dilan is Xaldin. But don’t you tell nobody or I’ll have to kill you.”
Braig glared daggers and Demyx who didn’t know whether he should laugh. He eventually did.
“Guess that covers it.” Braig shoved his beer aside, looked at his watch. Stood up and stretched, shaking a hand at the door. “Time to get down to the office. People should be gettin’ in right about now.”
Demyx fidgeted the whole way to the office but Braig was totally calm. “Don’t worry.”
He was worried though. Was used to Xemnas and his firm orders. People drank beer at eleven in the morning here. They didn’t come to work on time. He was supposed to cover their accidents. Time ran in a slow fashion here that Demyx just didn’t understand.
“So.” Braig pushed open the door. “Here’s the hive of scum and villainy now.” He gestured at the office which was now lit up. “Everyone! This is Demyx. Over there, is Luxord. He covers the International News. People think he’s well traveled because he’s got a Port Royal accent but really, he gets all his news from the internet and changes the wording. Even if someone did recognize that he can’t really write, barely anyone here uses the internet anyway.”
Luxord bowed at Demyx and threw a ball of paper at Braig’s head. “Don’t believe a word of it, Demyx, the Cyclops can’t write half as well as I can, and he knows it.”
Nervous laughter from Demyx as Braig dodged the paper projectile and returned a more accurate fire with one of the sheets from the pile Demyx had knocked over earlier.
“Over there’s Dilan. Dilan’s my buddy. He writes the Stock Report and sometimes a home-piece…he’s the genius behind this week’s weepy front-page kiddy story. Like I told ya before, our big secret is that he also bungs together the gossip.”
Demyx had never seen a more unlikely gossip columnist. Dilan was possibly even more built than Cloud and the SOLDIER army and he had thick dreadlocks which he kept tied off his face. “Good to meet you.” He said solemnly, offering his hand for a shake. Surely, this was a joke too.
“Where’s Axel today anyhow?”
Demyx followed Braig’s gaze to the empty and very cluttered desk in the front of the room.
“He was here for five minutes, then had to go out to the school.” Dilan spoke without looking up. “Roxas latest trick is to set things on fire.”
Demyx revised his opinion on Dilan’s credibility as a gossip. Felt a pang of sympathy for Axel who he wanted to see as someone who knew about failure like he did.
“To see if he’ll get there on time.” Braig nodded wisely. Then, in a different tone. “Well, make yourself at home there, Demyx. Read some back-issues, get a feel for how we do things here. Axel probably won’t show up today, he usually takes the day off when Roxas has one of his little escapades at school.”
“Great, we can all go home early.” Luxord suggested.
“Yep.” Braig crashed into a chair and nobody spoke anymore as the hum of three computers started up simultaneously. Demyx’s head buzzing as he wondered how long this job would last. Man Gets Through First Day Thanks to Boss’s Delinquent Child.
Author: lostscore
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3700+
Pairings/Warnings/Spoilers: Axel/Demyx, AU, Character Death. You might see a little Demyx/Zexion if you don't blink and miss it.
Summary: When Demyx, a poor reporter and worse writer barely clinging to his job is forced to cover the story of the death of one of his only friends, he decides to start fresh in a new world. His new boss is practically a criminal, his new colleagues are strange and he's stuck covering the very thing he wanted to escape in the first place.
Author's Notes: I haven't written in awhile, so what do I do? Start a new fic. I like fiction about Journalism and Mysteries and stories where people are uprooted and dumped into a situation they're totally not used to. Also, like usual, I think I read somewhere that people wanted some more Axel/Demyx. Or something.
Demyx Strife had grown up in Twilight Town. He was a small man of the sort that went unnoticed in a large crowd. Insides writhing like snakes poised to strike, nerves as taught as rubber bands. People could see it in his face, but never asked, would rather change the subject than make it their problem. Carried with him what he supposed was an uneasy childhood, full of being picked last for sports teams, bare pass grades and teachers that merely smiled nodded and repeated the words of encouragement the school had said all children should hear: You can do anything if you just try. Went to the college his parents told him to go to, dropped out after a half a year to go looking for a job. He’d tried.
While brother Cloud went off to join the army, Demyx circled the help-wanted-ads in his parents’ basement. Smears of red and blue ink covering his fingers and white socks. Both mother and father passed away in a few short years of each other and the basement became a rented room. Landlord barely there, money from the will covering the necessities.
One day he banged into the tall red-head. Clumsy Demyx with newspaper and cooling coffee in hand, deep in his daily perusing of the want-ads and failing to see the mountain of a man that was blocking the sidewalk. The drink scalded his fingers and a dark, spreading stain was leaking across the man’s pristine white shirt front.
“Sorry it’s ruined…” wanted to add ‘…but I’ll buy you a new one’ and naturally couldn’t.
The other man seemed unabashed by the accident. “Not really.” He said, giving Demyx a rare smile. Hesitantly returned, must be a fake. “I’ll get it dry cleaned tomorrow.” Pulling his suit jacket from a computer bag, covering the mess with sleek black. Another rare smile for Demyx.
Lexaeus Waters became his friend. Bought him expensive coffee with whipped crème and caramel, spoke slowly and humbly although in time Demyx came to recognize him for one of the foremost and top-paid newspapermen in the world. Finally handed over a business card, told him to stop by the Sunset office when he felt like it. They were looking for an on-call writer and photographer to cover the stories the regular staff didn’t get to. Didn’t want to constantly hire unreliable freelancers. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll enjoy it!”
With his inheritance dwindling, Demyx was willing to let a stranger’s kindness change his life. He went, apprehensive and expecting very little. Good Samaritan Helps Out Longtime Loser. Failure Imminent.
***
“This would be Xemnas’ office. I’ve told him as much as I can about you Demyx. I wouldn’t harp on your situation much. It will reflect in your favour if you don’t cry or speak of the tragedy you’ve been through.” He paused and swallowed. “Loosing your parents, I mean. He’s not sympathetic: entirely business minded..”
Demyx nodded but it seemed as though Lexaeus was speaking a foreign tongue. He didn’t feel the kind of crushing grief people always seemed to describe when his parents died, just another failure to add to the list. They were good people but had never really tried to make a difference in his life. He’d lived with them first then tried to do what they wanted, failed and they just accepted that as though it was an inevitability that couldn’t be changed. The two walked side-by-side down the hall, Lexaeus calm and silent as ever but Demyx a live-wire, about to explode.
Lexaeus nodded once at him before they parted company, escaping to the rat’s maze of cubicles that represented a steady job. Demyx pressing forward.
Xemnas wasn’t a loud or big man, but he was attractive, professional and secure in the knowledge he was both intimidating and in charge. Had long fallen in love with himself, liked to hear himself talk. Liked that Demyx let him.
“I’ll hire you to this paper on the condition that you cover what I tell you to. I don’t need any third-rate ideas about Journalism from a hack.” He said in his smooth, deep voice. “No experimenting, and I don’t need your opinion. Just complete the assignments and we will get along fine.”
“Yes sir. I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for hiring me.”
“Head up to the ninth floor offices. Third door on your right - that’s Namine’s office. She’s our copy editor- will set you up with a cell phone and camera. I’ll call you with your assignments as they come in. Leave as soon as you receive the call. Don’t use the phone for any personal calls, business and emergency only. Leave a blank check if you can at the front when you leave, ask whoever is on desk for a direct deposit slip.”
Demyx nodding, trying to take the information in. Went stumbling in a surreal haze into the elevator. Namine a petite blonde who still looked like a little girl despite the fact that closer examination revealed crow’s feet and laugh lines marring her soft features.
“Here you are, Sir. Welcome.” Uneasy smiles passed around. A cold lump of black plastic that was both alien and too heavy in his fingers.
“Thank you.” What else to be said? Painstakingly filled out a direct deposit form and left it with the pudgy receptionist whom he would later know as ‘Pence.’.
The next few months passed in a whirlwind. Demyx met his colleagues and expanded his horizons. First, there was Pence and Namine’s engagement party. He had a drink. Met the other employees. There was Leon and Aerith: a married couple covering city politics together. Tifa, an attractive woman who claimed to have broken into the reporting business as a food critic since her breasts which were indeed quite large had always gotten her free dinners. Zexion, the paper’s managing editor. A strange young man who seemed to look right through you, rewrote pieces impassively so that you didn’t know whether he liked you or not. Had a habit of licking his lips, almost seductively. Demyx licking his in return one day, caught himself and took the afternoon off. Had never considered the possibility he might be attracted to another man. Wouldn’t let that become yet another failure of his existence, particularly not now when things were starting to work in his favour finally.
Then, there was the living in constant fear that the next rent wouldn’t be paid. Somehow, a big story always came through and saved him by a bare margin in time. Then Lexaeus, constantly including Demyx in his plans. He’d stop by with foreign cheese and wines, a wizard in vegetarian dishes. Tried to light a fire under Demyx over these meals, strived to improve his writing. Every word of advice just confused him more. Demyx always nodded just to seem smart - a habit he’d never lost from his years of fumbling in school.. Write what you know…do what you know. Same thing, at least it was constant. Schedules were understood.
“I have an announcement.” Lexaeus said one evening at dinner. Demyx smiled. Just the two of them there, must be something funny. “I’m going on vacation for three weeks. To the Twilight Town beach.”
Demyx clapped enthusiastically as a joke, they smiled at one another. The blonde offered to water his plants and take in the mail, just like a good friend should.
A week later, the call came. Xemnas himself on the line. “Demyx. Hop on the train and get down to the beach. Lexaeus is there for his holiday, but I can’t get ahold of him to cover the story. Boat went under, lots of death, great stuff. Get on it. Take pictures. Pence should be back with your train tickets by the time you arrive.”
Feeling important, although it had been quite clear from Xemnas’ tone that he would have preferred a more experienced reporter to cover the story and this was a last resort, Demyx arrived at the office to accept the train tickets from Pence. The receptionist wished him luck in his usual friendly way, which had gotten more pronounced after his marriage to Namine. Demyx supposed that the soft-spoken editor had told her new husband of the constant, pathetic errors in his writing.
The train jostled him back and forth for a few hours and it was a quick walk to the beach, no need to rent a car or hail a tram. Paramedics were still there, and he snapped a few pictures of the crane towing the small outboard into shore before creeping towards the white ambulance and figures moving about the still form on the stretcher.
“No Press.” One red-faced and young policeman said firmly, barring Demyx’s path and giving him a stern look. “You people are vultures, honestly.”
A flash of orange-red hair against white. “I’m…he’s my friend!” he blurted. Pushing past the young cop, barely registering the indignant shouts.
Demyx pulled up just short of the stretcher, looking at the blue-tinted and clearly dead face of his only friend. His lips and skin were swollen with water, his shorts and plain t-shirt were soaked and stuck to his body. He didn’t even look asleep, like his parents had at their funeral.
Fighting the urge to vomit, Demyx let himself be removed from the area by the cop, walked away halfway through his warning not to continue to disturb the peace.
Found a post office in the seaside town and telegraphed a message about Lexaeus to Xemnas along with his letter of resignation. Dropped the black cell phone into a courier package. Stumbled over to the pay phone. Couldn’t stay here any more. He had to run away. Please, please, please don’t let him fail at that too.
“Hello, I’d like to place a collect call to Destiny Islands…Cloud Strife…His brother, Demyx.”
“…Demyx?”
Thank God.
***
The next day there was a check sitting on the foldaway table that had served as Demyx’s eating surface, covering the last of his rent. He was on the latest Gummi Ship offworld, headed to where his brother was currently stationed in the Destiny Islands. Leaving Xemnas and Namine and Lexaeus’ dead body behind, but not the Newspaper business.
Cloud had asked him what he’d been doing, then said he knew a guy who might be able to get him a job.
When he landed, his brother was there to greet him, waving calmly with a heavily-muscled arm. “I got you your job.” He said by way of greeting. “Axel - he’s the owner of the local paper, says he just needed a new guy to cover the accidents. Dunno how you got yourself into writing, but it’s apparently a good job. Very important. Naturally, I didn’t tell him how you usually get on with the important stuff, but hopefully you won’t screw up like usual. C’mon, kid, let’s mosey.”
Demyx didn’t bother to respond to the jibe, he was too busy trying to come to terms with his brother’s explanation of the job he’d found for him. Covering accidents? When he’d failed at covering the last one? When his best friend had been killed by one? Man Fails at Running Away After All.
***
The next day he was up before Cloud, following directions to the newspaper office off a piece of paper left next to his coffee cup. Four children raced past him, three boys, two who were short with spiky hair, a silver-haired boy who could have been related to Xemnas and a red-headed girl. Demyx caught a snippet of their conversation as their voices faded up the lane.
“Hey, did you see him? He’s new here! Probably from another world!”
“Come on Riku, you’re always thinking about weird stuff like that.” The girl.
“Yeah, it’s not important. He didn’t look exciting.”
The story of his life. Demyx continued on, finally coming to the town. He spotted the kids again, untying rowboats down the pier. They watched him more carefully this time as he approached, the paper office was right next to the water, as Cloud had stated.
Tried the door. Open, but the lights were off, not a flicker of movement. Backed into something in the dark and upset a pile of papers that spilled onto the floor. Picked them up as best he could, tripped on the way out.
If Cloud had been a different sort of person, this might have been a joke. Cloud was as serious as ever though, so something else must be wrong. He’d get a coffee, think about it. Maybe they were all out covering stories.
He turned into the café and felt the frigid air-conditioning blast full in his face. He ordered a coffee he couldn’t really afford and had to wait while the bartender made the hot drink that wasn’t often ordered in the tropical climate of Destiny Islands. Ended up upsetting that too, watching almost dumbfounded as the dark spill dribbled over the side of the table and into the grain of the rug.
Muttering apologies to the waitress who had already headed back to the kitchen, he chose a booth and sat to read a copy of the paper he may or may not actually be employed at. Staring at the headline of the front page, Demyx decided that the heretofore empty newspaper office might not be such a bad thing. He couldn’t write this kind of stuff.
The Sunset was a myriad of small startup business news and political opinions on local government affair. Every bit of it an impersonal and factual breeding ground for reporters designed to extol the news and nothing else. The headline story of the Island Post was the polar opposite: a homegrown account of the local school kids’ fall return to their studies, expounded upon by accounts of local parents lamenting the rising price of school supplies. These were stories that garnered the sympathies of a close-knit community. Next was the ‘international news’ which consisted of a brief account of doings in far-off Port Royal and something about the King of Disney that Xemnas would have said wasn’t fit for a tabloid. Both of them written by someone named Luxord. The stock-report was equally brief, penned by ‘Dilan’. ‘Braig’ had posted a couple of want-ads, along with a human interest story about someone who had taken home videos of falling stars. Editor Axel printed and answered a few letters, again in that alien personable tone. Then, at the very end, but probably what Demyx decided everyone must read first: a truly brilliant and incredible gossip column, a scandal sheet bordering on the libelous. Titled ‘Heartless’ and the byline stamped as ‘Xaldin’.
“You there!”
Demyx looked up from perusing ‘Heartless’ with the uncomfortable feeling of being caught red-handed at eavesdropping. The man in the corner with the eye patch was waving to get his attention, and he shrank back.
“You must be Demyx.”
Demyx got up, made his way over to the other side of the man’s booth. “How did you know?”
“Hell, some of the kids saw ya bungling around the Island office. Knew it was you when you upset the coffee too. I’m Braig. Editor in Chief. Sit down kid. Have a beer.” All said in one, lazy drawl of breath.
Demyx sat down. Declined the drink. Foreign Man Recognized For Clumsiness: Locals Amused.
“So, you’re the new guy.” Braig gulped down a third of the beer, looked Demyx over. “From the city huh? You’ll find that nothing on an Island opens early.”
“Yeah.” Demyx nodded agreement. Decided to voice his fear. “He wants me to cover accidents and stuff. Don’t know why, I couldn’t do it in the city. I ran away when my friend got killed and didn’t cover the story.”
To his surprise, Braig laughed as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Hah, that’s Axel for you. Doesn’t want to face his own fear, so he makes every one else do it for him. At least you’re taking the job. I’ll tell you somethin’ about Axel. You see those kids that play down by the island just off the shore? Leave every day on a little boat. Just about the time that you woulda come in.”
Demyx thought a moment, then nodded. “Four of them, right? Three boys and a girl?”
“Yeah, that’d be them. Anyway, ol’ Axel didn’t used to be the editor on the paper. Used to work on the Island Fire Department. So last summer we had a real dry spell. Good forest fire weather. Palm trees igniting for no reason every day. Fire Department’s busy as sin. It so happens that a breeze kicks up and one of these little brush fires goes shootin’ off down the row. Set fire to the house of the school’s science teacher, Even.”
“Axel didn’t get there in time, huh?” Demyx guessed.
“Too right he didn’t. There’s more than that though. He and Even weren’t exactly friends. Couple of people figured he did it on purpose, got a good rumor going. Because he got there late, I mean. Even himself killed gettin’ his kids outta the blaze and the fire department showing up a split second after he’d burned to death in that house. In the end, they hadda let Axel off. No proof, y’see? But they couldn’t let him back on the force either. Those little kids were left without a father. You shoulda seen what it did to Axel. Begged to save the kids a fate at the orphanage. Whole mess tied up for days in court and that was a real newsworthy wreck if there ever was one.”
“Didn’t the children have a mother?”
“Ah, now that was a bit of a sad thing. Knew Even a bit myself. Married Larxene, who everyone knew was screwin’ around with Marluxia. Guy’s a botanist, lives clear across the other side of the island. They - Even and Larxene that is, divorced eventually and Ms. Larxene made it quite clear she didn’t want the little parasites. You ask me, those kids are better off with Axel - if ever there was a lady not fit to raise…well anyway - these two twin boys were eventually left to Axel’s care.”
“Identical?” Demyx asked, trying to recall.
“Fraternal. Roxas and Sora. That’s the blonde and the brunette, both with that spiked up hair.”
“Axel’s not…?” Demyx trying to see the problem, made a motion towards a lewd gesture.
“Oh nonono. Nothin’ like that. Couldn’t ask for a more loving foster parent. Raises ‘em as though they were his flesh and blood, Axel does. It’s just…well, Sora, Sora I guess’ll tolerate the poor guy. Roxas however hates him.”
“So, Axel wanted someone to cover the disasters, cause he can’t stand it.”
“Right in one. You pick things up like that and you might last yet.”
Demyx mulled that one over. He wasn’t used to being told he did stuff right. Felt a bit more knowledgeable about life on Destiny Islands. “Xaldin?” he guessed.
“Hah, no.” Braig seemed to glare at Demyx. That eyepatch was intimidating. Foreign Man Found Dead after Bar Fight: Guilty of Insulting Local’s Integrity. He laughed instead though. “Nah, I mind my own business, though since you’re on the paper now I guess you can be let in on trade secrets. Dilan is Xaldin. But don’t you tell nobody or I’ll have to kill you.”
Braig glared daggers and Demyx who didn’t know whether he should laugh. He eventually did.
“Guess that covers it.” Braig shoved his beer aside, looked at his watch. Stood up and stretched, shaking a hand at the door. “Time to get down to the office. People should be gettin’ in right about now.”
Demyx fidgeted the whole way to the office but Braig was totally calm. “Don’t worry.”
He was worried though. Was used to Xemnas and his firm orders. People drank beer at eleven in the morning here. They didn’t come to work on time. He was supposed to cover their accidents. Time ran in a slow fashion here that Demyx just didn’t understand.
“So.” Braig pushed open the door. “Here’s the hive of scum and villainy now.” He gestured at the office which was now lit up. “Everyone! This is Demyx. Over there, is Luxord. He covers the International News. People think he’s well traveled because he’s got a Port Royal accent but really, he gets all his news from the internet and changes the wording. Even if someone did recognize that he can’t really write, barely anyone here uses the internet anyway.”
Luxord bowed at Demyx and threw a ball of paper at Braig’s head. “Don’t believe a word of it, Demyx, the Cyclops can’t write half as well as I can, and he knows it.”
Nervous laughter from Demyx as Braig dodged the paper projectile and returned a more accurate fire with one of the sheets from the pile Demyx had knocked over earlier.
“Over there’s Dilan. Dilan’s my buddy. He writes the Stock Report and sometimes a home-piece…he’s the genius behind this week’s weepy front-page kiddy story. Like I told ya before, our big secret is that he also bungs together the gossip.”
Demyx had never seen a more unlikely gossip columnist. Dilan was possibly even more built than Cloud and the SOLDIER army and he had thick dreadlocks which he kept tied off his face. “Good to meet you.” He said solemnly, offering his hand for a shake. Surely, this was a joke too.
“Where’s Axel today anyhow?”
Demyx followed Braig’s gaze to the empty and very cluttered desk in the front of the room.
“He was here for five minutes, then had to go out to the school.” Dilan spoke without looking up. “Roxas latest trick is to set things on fire.”
Demyx revised his opinion on Dilan’s credibility as a gossip. Felt a pang of sympathy for Axel who he wanted to see as someone who knew about failure like he did.
“To see if he’ll get there on time.” Braig nodded wisely. Then, in a different tone. “Well, make yourself at home there, Demyx. Read some back-issues, get a feel for how we do things here. Axel probably won’t show up today, he usually takes the day off when Roxas has one of his little escapades at school.”
“Great, we can all go home early.” Luxord suggested.
“Yep.” Braig crashed into a chair and nobody spoke anymore as the hum of three computers started up simultaneously. Demyx’s head buzzing as he wondered how long this job would last. Man Gets Through First Day Thanks to Boss’s Delinquent Child.