The Smiling Man
- Feb 14, 2006
=Viceroy of Rego=
--Chapter 2: The Chains that Connect Us--
"Hey, Ogen! Over here!" a young man cried out, waving his hand toward Ogen. "Look at this!" The young man stood proudly next to the remains of a Reaver, his foot placed atop its head victoriously. A large grin covered the young man's face, a slight sparkle in his eyes. He was happy. He was proud. He was foolish.
"What have you done?" Ogen asked, a small spark of anger welling up within the boy. He stepped just outside the dark alleyway of Corona Major, the sounds of the city quickly intensifying from murmurs into the loud 'bangs' and 'crashes' of a city. "This Reaver, did it see you?"
"Yeah," the young man responded, scratching the back of his neck, "but I took care of it before it could do anything."
"You idiot!" Ogen shouted in a fit of rage, breaking the boy's normal demeanor. "Do you realize what you have done!? That Reaver saw you, and now the Eclipse Army knows that there are keyblade wielders in Corona Major! Do you have any idea what that means!? It means that now you'll--"
"There he is!"
Ogen quickly pulled back into the darkness of the alleyway, hoping the owner of the voice did not see him. The boy watched as a small group of Reavers set upon the young man, quickly surrounding him on all sides. With no escape, the young man clashed blades with the Guardians and side-stepped the spinning blades of the Scuttlers. The young man fought well, dodging theirs blows smoothly while still able to deliver blows to the Reavers' hard armor. It was all going well, until...
"Uggh!" the young man shouted, looking down at his leg to see a massive claw wrapped around it. The young man followed the arm back to its owner, a Cage Reaver. With the young man distracted, a Guardian Reaver quickly moved in and knocked the keyblade from the young man's hands. "No!" he shouted, reaching out toward the keyblade. The young man was quickly knocked from his feet at the Cage Reaver jerked it's claw upward, lifting the young man over it's body. "Help me!"
Ogen could only watch in terror as the young man was dropped into the Reaver's cage. He felt useless, hopeless. He couldn't even save his ally. Part of him want to help. It urged, screamed, him to stand up and rescue the young man. But, he couldn't. After all, what good was he for? He wasn't strong or smart. If anything, he'd only wind up getting caught alongside the young man.
"Let me go!" the young man shouted, calling his keyblade to his hand. A surge of electricity bolted from the Reaver's cage, washing over the young man's entire body in a painful wave. The young man collapsed to his knees before doubling over in a motionless heap.
Ogen watched, motionless, as the Reaver began to walk away, the young man trapped inside, unconscious. He could do something. He should do something. There weren't that many Reavers. Even he should be able to take them on, right? So why didn't he? Was he simply scared? Terrified into petrification? Or was it he didn't want to help? Could that be why he didn't help? Was he hoping the Reavers would take the young man? But if so, then why...?
Ogen woke with a start, sweat pouring down the side of his pale face. His heart was pounding a quick rhythm, his breath wheezing like a clarinet. His hands were in tight fists, his nails drawing blood from his palms. The boy looked around panicky, trying to get his bearings.
"It was a dream," he reassured himself, his breath gradually slowing. "It was only a dream."
Now calmer, Ogen looked around to find himself in a dark alleyway of Corona Major, surrounded by trash and filth. That's right, he thought to himself. I'm still here. Here in this god-forsaken nightmare. He noticed Animus and the man he had since learned to be named Quel'loyen nearby and took some comfort in the fact that he was, at least, not alone, that there was at least someone he felt he could rely on, that he could trust.
Ogen winced in pain as the realization of what he had done to himself set in. He lifted his bloodied hands and slowly uncurled them, sucking in air through closed teeth as he slowly dislodged his nails from his hands. He ripped off two strips of cloth from his tattered trench coat, which, at this point, he had been using as little more as a sack, and wrapped them around the palm of each hand, tucking the end in under the bandage.
"Today makes day seven," Ogen mumbled to himself, huddling up under his greatcoat. "An entire week trapped on this planet, trying and failing to find King Louie." He looked up toward the sky. "We don't even know what he looks like, let alone where to start looking for him. And since that incident, Reaver patrol has tripled, making finding him even harder." Ogen curled up into a ball, setting his chin on his arms. "When will I wake up from this nightmare?"