Checkered Glass | I-01 | Systems Superficial [EDITED!]
Rating: T, for character death and violent themes.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I do not make any profit from this. Feel free to join me amongst the ranks of conspiring fan-brats. It's loads of fun, and subscription is free for the first 30 days. Then you have to pay a toll of at least a hundred brain-cells a week. We're all mad here.
Summary: Zexion wasn't meant to let Demyx die. Now his only chance for redemption is committing a sin greater than the one that killed him in the first place.
Pairings: Main Zemyx (...I guess xD) | Side MarluZex, AkuRoku, RiSo, XemSaï, RikuRoku, ReplikuZex, Naminé/Larxene, and more that I can't remember at the moment... So basically an orgy. (Fitting, for orgynization XIII)
Genre: Romance/Thriller? I'm not sure what to call this. It's dark... and gory... So maybe horror? But I don't like the way that sounds... Oh dear >.>
Notes: What's this? Character death, on the first chapter? Well, yes, the whole story kicks off that way... Oh dear xD
And so, here we have it! The first chapter/prologue thing. I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense. It's about 2am where I am right now, and I haven't read over it very much and I'm just excited that it's finished... So I wanted to post it here for everyone!
And I need feedback. Please? Haha :P (Also, because I'm starting from the turning point, there are no longer any happy, fluffy scenes. Except maybe for the flashbacks. xD
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CHECKERED GLASS
Scene 00
The End.
-------
It's not as though I ever meant to let it happen. Just the opposite, in fact. But sometimes things spiral too far out of control for any two hands to save, and you're left feeling helpless and used.
That's how I should be feeling right now: Helpless and used. But my mother had always said I was a stubborn boy, and now was no different.
Instead, I'm obstinately denying the fact it ever happened; trying my hardest to fight my way back to him.
The cold reality is that he's dead.
It's a good thing I don't care much for reality.
Naminé smiled, that dainty, careful smile that never betrayed her emotions. "So? What can I do for you?"
Zexion grimaced. He didn't know how he found his way to the witch's doorstep, or how he'd managed to get anywhere at all, really; but what mattered was that now, he might have a chance to do it all again.
"What would it take," he started, "to bring a person back to life?"
Naminé smiled again. This time it was a pitying, sympathetic smile, and she lay her hand on his shoulder. "I can't bring someone back if they are dead. Even someone who's half-dead is also half-alive, and I can save them. But nothing can be done for someone who is whole-dead."
Zexion clenched his eyes shut. That was not what he wanted to hear. "Please. Anything, anything at all. What would it take to bring someone back to life."
She looked at him sadly, feeling his desperation. "It's hard. There is a way, but it's hard. People have tried before, and many, if not all, have lost themselves along the way."
The blue-haired man shook his head, uncaring. "It doesn't matter. I don't have anything else to lose."
She sighed. "It takes--"
Zexion sat alone. It was dark and it was cold and it was raining down on his head, and he laughed a cold, bitter laugh. Once again, the weather was reflecting exactly what he felt inside.
He'd been a successful kind of man; worked a full-time job and got enough to last him through each month, plus a bit extra to tuck aside just for him. He'd had friends he used to love - one especially - and they used to have fun together, even though the word was foreign to him for a while.
He looked up, squinting as the rain dripped into his eyes. He brought a bottle to his lips, and drank it quickly. Of course, he wouldn't get drunk. No matter how much he drunk, it never seemed to affect him.
He sighed. He was dead - dead, goddamn it - and yet all he could feel was numb. Numb, and a raw, agonizing desire to rip apart those who stood in his way. He didn't understand why, didn't understand how - why didn't he realize? How could he have let him slip away?
His fists clenched (he didn't notice it, but his knuckles were going white) and suddenly there was a loud crack! noise as his fingers tightened over the bottle just enough to shatter the glass. The liquid fell over his fingers - some of it thick and dark, some of it lighter - and he made a decision.
Standing up, he shook his hand off and wiped it on his trousers. And then he left.
Zexion had been a successful man, and there was no problem in that. He'd had the money, he'd had the friends, and he'd had the things that mattered most to him.
But he was alone, and that was where the problem lay.
There was a knock at the door, and Zexion jumped, startled. He checked the clock, wondering if it was as late as he thought it was, and exactly why someone was visiting him this late.
22:32 greeted him with a soft, green glow, and he sighed. It was much too late to be visiting anyone, and he could pretend he was asleep.
After all, he was rather known for going to bed early; if only to lie there and read for the next four hours.
But then the knocks came again, faster, more urgent. "Zexion, I know you're sitting there! This is important!"
Zexion grumbled. That loud, obnoxious voice could belong to none other than Marluxia, which gave even more of a reason not to answer the door. If there was something he definitely didn't need right now, it was the pink-haired man up his ass - metaphorically, that is. Marluxia was about as welcome as a pineapple dancing the cancan.
And, to be honest, Zexion wasn't all too fond of cancan dancing pineapples.
He uncurled from his armchair, got up as quietly as he could and shuffled over to the stairs. If he could just get away--
"Zexion, this is about--"
Zexion froze. For a long moment, he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. It was as though ice had been poured right into his veins and then forced to pump all through his body.
At the next knock, he was unfrozen and almost tearing the door down off its hinges. Standing there rather bemusedly was Marluxia in his long grey coat. Zexion grabbed him by his collar and dragged him inside, throwing him down on the chair he was in not moments before.
"Talk. Now," he demanded, crossing his arms.
Marluxia just shrugged, raising his arms and kicking his feet up, making himself more comfortable. "That was rather rude of you, Zex. Have a little more gratitude for the person who just ran all the way across town to give you this little piece of information."
Zexion growled. "Depending on the information, I might not be grateful at all."
Marluxia sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "They've taken him away."
Zexion's eyes widened and he breathed in sharply. "You mean they-- But I thought that--" he stopped, collected himself. Then he started again, slowly, "Marluxia, where have they taken him?"
The pink haired man just shrugged. "I don't know. They don't tell me anything."
Zexion's eyes narrowed. "Marluxia, I am not going to ask you again. Where did they take him?"
Marluxia had to pause for a moment. Never before had he heard Zexion sound so dangerous - dangerous, bordering on the edge of mad.
This was bad. He sighed. "The warehouse on the edge of the wharf. You know the one."
He nodded once, then dashed up the stairs. He came back moments later, a pair of (untied) shoes on his feet, tugging a jacket around his shoulders. He was almost out the door when Marluxia grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. "Woah, you're not thinking of going there now, are you?"
Zexion shrugged him off. "What do you think I'm going to do; leave him to die?"
Marluxia looked shocked, taking a step back. "Wait, no one said anything about--"
"They're going to kill him, Marluxia!" He yelled, holding his shoulder as though it burned where the pink-haired man had touched it. "They're going to kill him," he said in a quieter voice, "so... Please lock up when you leave," he said, and then ran off, leaving that man and his house behind.
The warehouse by the wharf. He knew the one. It had been used by a gang as a hideout to store drugs and other things before the organization had gotten a hold of it and "liberated" it from them. Now, it was in their control, and they could do anything with it.
When Zexion left the house, he had no plan. Hell, he didn't even have a car - it had been taken into the garage after he'd totaled it the other day. The only thing running through his head was that he had to get there - had to get there now, and he would run if he had to.
He was already running when a car pulled up beside him and honked for his attention. He looked towards it instinctively and was met with the figure of Lexaeus waving at him, beckoning him to get in. Startled, Zexion did just that.
"How did you--" Zexion started, but Lexaeus cut him off.
"I had a feeling you'd need a lift," he replied simply, giving him a little smile as he pulled back onto the road.
"Wait, you knew? And you didn't tell me?!" Zexion almost yelled.
But Lexaeus just shook his head, giving him a little mysterious smile, tapping his head. "It was intuition. Where are we going?"
Zexion sighed, taking the answer. "To the warehouse by the wharf," he replied - a little tiredly, Lexaeus noticed, but he decided not to comment. He just nodded and plotted out their course.
It was a silent journey. Zexion was anxious and angry and confused and felt for all the world as if he was about to explode. He couldn't take it for much longer and when they finally reached the warehouse, he practically leaped out of the car.
"Zexion, wait!" Lexaeus yelled, reaching out, but his warning fell on deaf ears.
Zexion almost flew across the grass, yet it seemed to take years to reach those huge, steel doors. He could feel the seconds ticking away, as though it was grains of sand running against his skin. He was too slow, not fast enough, even as he was at the doors, throwing them open.
He was hit by an unpleasant wave of incense, yet all he could see was a huge, black cloudy mist. It hung in the air like a dark omen, and his stomach churned. As far as he could see, there was no one there. And that meant--
The mist billowed out the door, streaming past him, almost assaulting him with various smells. Then it cleared, and all that was left was the huge, empty space that filled the warehouse.
Empty, except for the lone body that lay in the middle, blood pooling around it.
Zexion's eyes widened and he ran over to his, hoping against hope that it wasn't-- Please don't let it be-- But how could it--
His knees collapsed and he fell down beside it. There was no doubt about it. His fingers reached out to touch his cooling cheeks, lifting his head into his lap and running his fingers through the blood matted in his once beautiful blond hair.
He didn't realize it, but suddenly there were tears running down his face and dripping on to the boy's face, mingling with the blood.
He felt Lexaeus' arms wrap around him and pull him away. "Zexion, it's best not to dwell on these things."
Through his sniffles and the haze that had appeared in his mind, he managed to choke out, "I know, Lexaeus. But--"
Demyx.
They had murdered Demyx.
They were going to pay.
That morning, he was woken by the harsh shrills of his phone ringing through the house, demanding for attention. He was rather annoyed by this, actually, and was fully preparing to tell the other person on the line exactly why he was annoyed. Only--
"Zexion!"
--There was no way he could be mad at Demyx. After all, the boy had the strange ability to drain all of his rage and turn it into something softer, something a lot more delicate.
He smiled. "Demyx? What's up?"
"Well, I was wondering. What are you doing today?"
Zexion glanced at the clock. It was barely eight in the morning, and he was actually rather surprised that Demyx was up this early. "Err, nothing. Why do you ask?"
"You wanna hang out with me today? I mean, I know I'm kind of boring, but d'you reckon you'd be able to tear yourself away from your fictional realities for just a moment to hang out with your best buddy?" Demyx replied, sounding bubbly even through the phone.
He didn't even think about it. "I suppose I could steel myself to bear with you for today," he laughed, juggling his book in his hands and flipping the jug.
"Great!" Demyx exclaimed, making Zexion jump. "I'll meet you at the park in half an hour, then!"
Zexion paused. Half an hour? He'd only just gotten up! "Wait, Demyx-!"
"See you later, Zex!" Demyx cut him off, and then hung up the phone, leaving Zexion staring at it dumbly. Then everything clicked into place.
"Ohshi-" he yelled, dropping the phone and flying back to his room haphazardly throwing on clothes. If he left in ten minutes, he'd just be able to make it. That gave him enough time to make himself decent, cook some two minute noodles and eat them before he left.
He made sure to grab his keys just before he left to lock up the house. After all, he didn't want anyone to break into the house while he was gone - he had some valuable things in there, damnit!
With each step he took towards the park, Zexion felt himself get lighter and lighter, almost as though he was floating. He didn't quite understand it, but decided that he wasn't going to question it, either. It was a nice feeling, and he was going to enjoy it while he could.
He reached the park in just less than twenty minutes, and he spotted Demyx sitting under a tree, talking to some kid. The kid smiled and ran away just as Zexion reached him.
Demyx looked up. "Aww, look what you did! You scared away the little kid!"
Zexion laughed. "That's right; they'd better run. After all, I eat small children like them for breakfast," he joked, reaching down to mess up
Demyx's hair.
Demyx just pouted and shoved him away, fixing his hair up. "Hey, that wasn't nice! You didn't have to go and do that..." he complained, poking his tongue out at him.
"Poking your tongue? What are you, six?" Zexion teased, to which he earned a kick in the shins. "Aww, I love you really," he laughed some more. "Well, anyway, what'd you want?"
Demyx suddenly blushed, averting his gaze. "Zexion, I lo--"
Nine hearts.
It takes nine hearts to bring back the person you love.
Target Name: Demyx Intre
Mission Type: Assasination
Operative Assigned: CLASSIFIED (Previously the Cloaked Schemer)
NOTE: Due to emotional ties, the Cloaked Schemer has been replaced with a different operative. If the Cloaked Schemer were to learn of this mission, a resistance is expected. Should the operative assigned find himself obscured by the Cloaked Schemer, they are given permission to use any means necessary to remove the Cloaked Schemer out of their path.
Death is an acceptable solution.
...Secretly, this chapter is meant to be read backwards. I'm not sure why. Haha >.>
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I do not make any profit from this. Feel free to join me amongst the ranks of conspiring fan-brats. It's loads of fun, and subscription is free for the first 30 days. Then you have to pay a toll of at least a hundred brain-cells a week. We're all mad here.
Summary: Zexion wasn't meant to let Demyx die. Now his only chance for redemption is committing a sin greater than the one that killed him in the first place.
Pairings: Main Zemyx (...I guess xD) | Side MarluZex, AkuRoku, RiSo, XemSaï, RikuRoku, ReplikuZex, Naminé/Larxene, and more that I can't remember at the moment... So basically an orgy. (Fitting, for orgynization XIII)
Genre: Romance/Thriller? I'm not sure what to call this. It's dark... and gory... So maybe horror? But I don't like the way that sounds... Oh dear >.>
Notes: What's this? Character death, on the first chapter? Well, yes, the whole story kicks off that way... Oh dear xD
And so, here we have it! The first chapter/prologue thing. I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense. It's about 2am where I am right now, and I haven't read over it very much and I'm just excited that it's finished... So I wanted to post it here for everyone!
And I need feedback. Please? Haha :P (Also, because I'm starting from the turning point, there are no longer any happy, fluffy scenes. Except maybe for the flashbacks. xD
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CHECKERED GLASS
Scene 00
The End.
-------
It's not as though I ever meant to let it happen. Just the opposite, in fact. But sometimes things spiral too far out of control for any two hands to save, and you're left feeling helpless and used.
That's how I should be feeling right now: Helpless and used. But my mother had always said I was a stubborn boy, and now was no different.
Instead, I'm obstinately denying the fact it ever happened; trying my hardest to fight my way back to him.
The cold reality is that he's dead.
It's a good thing I don't care much for reality.
Naminé smiled, that dainty, careful smile that never betrayed her emotions. "So? What can I do for you?"
Zexion grimaced. He didn't know how he found his way to the witch's doorstep, or how he'd managed to get anywhere at all, really; but what mattered was that now, he might have a chance to do it all again.
"What would it take," he started, "to bring a person back to life?"
Naminé smiled again. This time it was a pitying, sympathetic smile, and she lay her hand on his shoulder. "I can't bring someone back if they are dead. Even someone who's half-dead is also half-alive, and I can save them. But nothing can be done for someone who is whole-dead."
Zexion clenched his eyes shut. That was not what he wanted to hear. "Please. Anything, anything at all. What would it take to bring someone back to life."
She looked at him sadly, feeling his desperation. "It's hard. There is a way, but it's hard. People have tried before, and many, if not all, have lost themselves along the way."
The blue-haired man shook his head, uncaring. "It doesn't matter. I don't have anything else to lose."
She sighed. "It takes--"
Zexion sat alone. It was dark and it was cold and it was raining down on his head, and he laughed a cold, bitter laugh. Once again, the weather was reflecting exactly what he felt inside.
He'd been a successful kind of man; worked a full-time job and got enough to last him through each month, plus a bit extra to tuck aside just for him. He'd had friends he used to love - one especially - and they used to have fun together, even though the word was foreign to him for a while.
He looked up, squinting as the rain dripped into his eyes. He brought a bottle to his lips, and drank it quickly. Of course, he wouldn't get drunk. No matter how much he drunk, it never seemed to affect him.
He sighed. He was dead - dead, goddamn it - and yet all he could feel was numb. Numb, and a raw, agonizing desire to rip apart those who stood in his way. He didn't understand why, didn't understand how - why didn't he realize? How could he have let him slip away?
His fists clenched (he didn't notice it, but his knuckles were going white) and suddenly there was a loud crack! noise as his fingers tightened over the bottle just enough to shatter the glass. The liquid fell over his fingers - some of it thick and dark, some of it lighter - and he made a decision.
Standing up, he shook his hand off and wiped it on his trousers. And then he left.
Zexion had been a successful man, and there was no problem in that. He'd had the money, he'd had the friends, and he'd had the things that mattered most to him.
But he was alone, and that was where the problem lay.
There was a knock at the door, and Zexion jumped, startled. He checked the clock, wondering if it was as late as he thought it was, and exactly why someone was visiting him this late.
22:32 greeted him with a soft, green glow, and he sighed. It was much too late to be visiting anyone, and he could pretend he was asleep.
After all, he was rather known for going to bed early; if only to lie there and read for the next four hours.
But then the knocks came again, faster, more urgent. "Zexion, I know you're sitting there! This is important!"
Zexion grumbled. That loud, obnoxious voice could belong to none other than Marluxia, which gave even more of a reason not to answer the door. If there was something he definitely didn't need right now, it was the pink-haired man up his ass - metaphorically, that is. Marluxia was about as welcome as a pineapple dancing the cancan.
And, to be honest, Zexion wasn't all too fond of cancan dancing pineapples.
He uncurled from his armchair, got up as quietly as he could and shuffled over to the stairs. If he could just get away--
"Zexion, this is about--"
Zexion froze. For a long moment, he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. It was as though ice had been poured right into his veins and then forced to pump all through his body.
At the next knock, he was unfrozen and almost tearing the door down off its hinges. Standing there rather bemusedly was Marluxia in his long grey coat. Zexion grabbed him by his collar and dragged him inside, throwing him down on the chair he was in not moments before.
"Talk. Now," he demanded, crossing his arms.
Marluxia just shrugged, raising his arms and kicking his feet up, making himself more comfortable. "That was rather rude of you, Zex. Have a little more gratitude for the person who just ran all the way across town to give you this little piece of information."
Zexion growled. "Depending on the information, I might not be grateful at all."
Marluxia sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "They've taken him away."
Zexion's eyes widened and he breathed in sharply. "You mean they-- But I thought that--" he stopped, collected himself. Then he started again, slowly, "Marluxia, where have they taken him?"
The pink haired man just shrugged. "I don't know. They don't tell me anything."
Zexion's eyes narrowed. "Marluxia, I am not going to ask you again. Where did they take him?"
Marluxia had to pause for a moment. Never before had he heard Zexion sound so dangerous - dangerous, bordering on the edge of mad.
This was bad. He sighed. "The warehouse on the edge of the wharf. You know the one."
He nodded once, then dashed up the stairs. He came back moments later, a pair of (untied) shoes on his feet, tugging a jacket around his shoulders. He was almost out the door when Marluxia grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. "Woah, you're not thinking of going there now, are you?"
Zexion shrugged him off. "What do you think I'm going to do; leave him to die?"
Marluxia looked shocked, taking a step back. "Wait, no one said anything about--"
"They're going to kill him, Marluxia!" He yelled, holding his shoulder as though it burned where the pink-haired man had touched it. "They're going to kill him," he said in a quieter voice, "so... Please lock up when you leave," he said, and then ran off, leaving that man and his house behind.
The warehouse by the wharf. He knew the one. It had been used by a gang as a hideout to store drugs and other things before the organization had gotten a hold of it and "liberated" it from them. Now, it was in their control, and they could do anything with it.
When Zexion left the house, he had no plan. Hell, he didn't even have a car - it had been taken into the garage after he'd totaled it the other day. The only thing running through his head was that he had to get there - had to get there now, and he would run if he had to.
He was already running when a car pulled up beside him and honked for his attention. He looked towards it instinctively and was met with the figure of Lexaeus waving at him, beckoning him to get in. Startled, Zexion did just that.
"How did you--" Zexion started, but Lexaeus cut him off.
"I had a feeling you'd need a lift," he replied simply, giving him a little smile as he pulled back onto the road.
"Wait, you knew? And you didn't tell me?!" Zexion almost yelled.
But Lexaeus just shook his head, giving him a little mysterious smile, tapping his head. "It was intuition. Where are we going?"
Zexion sighed, taking the answer. "To the warehouse by the wharf," he replied - a little tiredly, Lexaeus noticed, but he decided not to comment. He just nodded and plotted out their course.
It was a silent journey. Zexion was anxious and angry and confused and felt for all the world as if he was about to explode. He couldn't take it for much longer and when they finally reached the warehouse, he practically leaped out of the car.
"Zexion, wait!" Lexaeus yelled, reaching out, but his warning fell on deaf ears.
Zexion almost flew across the grass, yet it seemed to take years to reach those huge, steel doors. He could feel the seconds ticking away, as though it was grains of sand running against his skin. He was too slow, not fast enough, even as he was at the doors, throwing them open.
He was hit by an unpleasant wave of incense, yet all he could see was a huge, black cloudy mist. It hung in the air like a dark omen, and his stomach churned. As far as he could see, there was no one there. And that meant--
The mist billowed out the door, streaming past him, almost assaulting him with various smells. Then it cleared, and all that was left was the huge, empty space that filled the warehouse.
Empty, except for the lone body that lay in the middle, blood pooling around it.
Zexion's eyes widened and he ran over to his, hoping against hope that it wasn't-- Please don't let it be-- But how could it--
His knees collapsed and he fell down beside it. There was no doubt about it. His fingers reached out to touch his cooling cheeks, lifting his head into his lap and running his fingers through the blood matted in his once beautiful blond hair.
He didn't realize it, but suddenly there were tears running down his face and dripping on to the boy's face, mingling with the blood.
He felt Lexaeus' arms wrap around him and pull him away. "Zexion, it's best not to dwell on these things."
Through his sniffles and the haze that had appeared in his mind, he managed to choke out, "I know, Lexaeus. But--"
Demyx.
They had murdered Demyx.
They were going to pay.
That morning, he was woken by the harsh shrills of his phone ringing through the house, demanding for attention. He was rather annoyed by this, actually, and was fully preparing to tell the other person on the line exactly why he was annoyed. Only--
"Zexion!"
--There was no way he could be mad at Demyx. After all, the boy had the strange ability to drain all of his rage and turn it into something softer, something a lot more delicate.
He smiled. "Demyx? What's up?"
"Well, I was wondering. What are you doing today?"
Zexion glanced at the clock. It was barely eight in the morning, and he was actually rather surprised that Demyx was up this early. "Err, nothing. Why do you ask?"
"You wanna hang out with me today? I mean, I know I'm kind of boring, but d'you reckon you'd be able to tear yourself away from your fictional realities for just a moment to hang out with your best buddy?" Demyx replied, sounding bubbly even through the phone.
He didn't even think about it. "I suppose I could steel myself to bear with you for today," he laughed, juggling his book in his hands and flipping the jug.
"Great!" Demyx exclaimed, making Zexion jump. "I'll meet you at the park in half an hour, then!"
Zexion paused. Half an hour? He'd only just gotten up! "Wait, Demyx-!"
"See you later, Zex!" Demyx cut him off, and then hung up the phone, leaving Zexion staring at it dumbly. Then everything clicked into place.
"Ohshi-" he yelled, dropping the phone and flying back to his room haphazardly throwing on clothes. If he left in ten minutes, he'd just be able to make it. That gave him enough time to make himself decent, cook some two minute noodles and eat them before he left.
He made sure to grab his keys just before he left to lock up the house. After all, he didn't want anyone to break into the house while he was gone - he had some valuable things in there, damnit!
With each step he took towards the park, Zexion felt himself get lighter and lighter, almost as though he was floating. He didn't quite understand it, but decided that he wasn't going to question it, either. It was a nice feeling, and he was going to enjoy it while he could.
He reached the park in just less than twenty minutes, and he spotted Demyx sitting under a tree, talking to some kid. The kid smiled and ran away just as Zexion reached him.
Demyx looked up. "Aww, look what you did! You scared away the little kid!"
Zexion laughed. "That's right; they'd better run. After all, I eat small children like them for breakfast," he joked, reaching down to mess up
Demyx's hair.
Demyx just pouted and shoved him away, fixing his hair up. "Hey, that wasn't nice! You didn't have to go and do that..." he complained, poking his tongue out at him.
"Poking your tongue? What are you, six?" Zexion teased, to which he earned a kick in the shins. "Aww, I love you really," he laughed some more. "Well, anyway, what'd you want?"
Demyx suddenly blushed, averting his gaze. "Zexion, I lo--"
Nine hearts.
It takes nine hearts to bring back the person you love.
Target Name: Demyx Intre
Mission Type: Assasination
Operative Assigned: CLASSIFIED (Previously the Cloaked Schemer)
NOTE: Due to emotional ties, the Cloaked Schemer has been replaced with a different operative. If the Cloaked Schemer were to learn of this mission, a resistance is expected. Should the operative assigned find himself obscured by the Cloaked Schemer, they are given permission to use any means necessary to remove the Cloaked Schemer out of their path.
Death is an acceptable solution.
...Secretly, this chapter is meant to be read backwards. I'm not sure why. Haha >.>