Endless darkness.

He is used to seeing that, given his preferred mode of transport. Corridors of Darkness, creepy as they are, he's gotta admit practically being able to teleport himself almost anywhere is nice.

Endless darkness, yellow eyes, sharp claws, and the chilling void of the abyss where the streets of The World That Never Was should be. Not so nice.

The moment he steps through the corridor he created in Twilight Town; he knows he's made a mistake.

Darkness that once came at his call like a loyal dog bristles and struggles against his control. Each moment spent here saps away a little more of his strength and even with his Organization coat he can feel the darkness seeping in, searching for a heart he no longer has.

He stumbles as he exits the corridor, then completely loses his footing as his boot catches on something unseen. Soft dirt chokes him as he gasps in pain and it's wrong, so wrong. He should have landed on the solid concrete of the damp streets of the World That Never Was.

Blinking unfocused eyes to try and get his bearings does little. Even as his vision clears all he can see is the many shifting shadows of the Realm of Darkness.

Fear—no, the memory of fear he reminds himself, he no longer has the heart needed to feel fear—grips his throat as he stands.

He summons his Chakrams—foregoing his usual dramatic flair—the slight heat that radiates from them warming his palms as he adjusts his grip. They chase away the memory of fear as he raises one to see further into the darkness.

Ochre eyes stare back at him.

Blinking against the light, Axel shrugs as he shakes off the cold tendrils clinging to his coat and takes a step forward. There's no sign of any real danger; it seems he's on the outer edges of the Realm of Darkness, that dreary precipice of blackness that likes to float ominously around the limits of nonexistence.

This, however, left one question. "How the heck did I wind up here?"

His query goes unanswered as the Heartless slink around the pool of light cast by his flames.

Ignoring them he stretches out an arm to summon another Corridor of Darkness. It's obvious he simply made a mistake.

Not that he'll tell Saix that, or tell Saix about being seen, or that he had passed out, or about the fact that he can't really remember what he was doing in Twilight Town in the first place…

…come to think of it, maybe it's best that nobody hears about this, ever.

Yep, that's for the best. This is definitely one mission he does not want memorized.

Corridor formed, he dismisses his Chakrams and eagerly walks through the gaping vortex of darkness before him.

He exits the other side and freezes.

An endless darkness, yellow eyes, sharp claws, and a deep chill are all that greet him.

"What the hel-agh!"

He flinches back as one of the shadows leaps forward, dark talons raking across his upraised arm as the shade manifests in the form of a Neoshadow.

He grits his teeth as he suppresses his cry, but it's too late. He doesn't even have time to assess the damage as more Heartless slink from the darkness. Swords held in hand with stunted and frayed wings, which somehow still manage to keep them aloft: Orcus'.

"Hey guys, you're a bit more worked up than usual. What? Has Xemnas not been feeding you or something?" He wasn't expecting a reply but that doesn't mean he appreciates the shadowed blade that comes flying towards his head.

"Hey! I'm meant to be the hot head here!" Fire erupts as his Chakrams fly, covering his retreat to the corridor that still lays open behind him.

He doesn't get far, not with the pool of darkness he hadn't noticed suddenly smothering his flames, choking the once towering pillars of fire down to nothing more than a few wisps of smoke.

Normally, this would be nothing to worry about, but then again normally he wasn't on his own, surrounded by ever-growing-numbers of apparently underfed Heartless that he has absolutely no control over. Oh yeah, and he isn't trapped in the Realm of Darkness, but this is his life now so there's only one sensible thing to do.

Throw more fire and don't look back.

As sound a strategy as that is, there isn't much he can do against the horde of Heartless that begin to tumble free from the still open Corridor of Darkness behind him. At least not while he's still dealing with the ever-multiplying Orcus and Neoshadow army before him. Oh, and is that a Darkside he sees clawing its way out of the bubbling puddle of shadows…

Welp, he's done.

Dismissing the suicide track he likes to call his previous escape route, Axel reaches out to summon another, but because that worked so well last time, he throws up a fire wall between him and the literally unending horde just to be safe.

The near blinding wall of flames encircles him, driving back the heartless for a moment as many of them sink back into the floor.

"What? Is that all you got?" He taunts as he raises a hand to summon a new corridor, only to cringe as a sharp pain lances up the length of his arm. His eyes are finally drawn to the deep gouges that have been carved into his skin, leaving the leather of his coat hanging in strips and his blood dripping to the floor.

"That's new." Axel cradles his arm against his chest in an attempt to slow the bleeding as he raises his free hand. Thinking that it's probably best he deals with his injury in a place that you know, isn't home to a bunch of literal monsters.

The barest threads of darkness begin to weave together to form his escape, just as the ground beneath him starts to shake. Distracted, Axel loses his tenuous grasp on the dark power, which still seems to be struggling against his control. Is it an effect of this Realm? He doesn't know and he doesn't have time to think about it as his shaky footing completely gives way.

Scrambling, he manages to latch onto the edge of the sudden precipice, his nails digging into the soft dirt even as he continues to sink. Yes, sink.

Into the giant hole of darkness that conveniently—yes, that's sarcasm—decided to open beneath his feet.

Dragging himself free was never an option, but it becomes truly impossible when the incorporeal vines of darkness wrap themselves around his arm. Even so he fights it, pouring strength into his waning grip as the shadows continue to pull him down.

He loses his fight when the ground he clings to simply gives way. Enveloped within the pool of Darkness he drowns for long seconds, his lungs torn apart by the weight of a formless shade that rips and tears at him even as he falls.

Everything stops as he hits solid ground again, but he feels something give in a way it shouldn't.

Dazed, in pain, and more than a little confused he tries to push himself back to his feet, knowing that every moment spent lying in the dirt is another chance he has of defending himself lost.

He manages to get to his knees, but something shifts in his chest and the gasp of pain that follows has him curling involuntarily in on himself. His lungs feel like they're on fire, every shallow breath hurts but he knows he has to move, he has to get up.

That decision is taken from him with the descent of one hand.

Talons the size of columns close around him. The air is crushed from his lungs, silencing his roar of pain, even as a darkness that doesn't belong to this realm dances along the edges of his vision.

The flames he can feel sparking to life along the lines of his one free arm burn with an eclipsed light, one he is barely able to see dancing along the edges of the remnants of his shredded coat.

Still he calls to them, urging them to burn brighter as the grip around his middle tightens.

He can feel the flames growing, sense them feeding off his magic with an endless appetite that breeds recklessness. Still he holds back his attack, knowing that were he to unleash it now it would barely be more powerful than a simple Firaga. Fun spell, but not strong enough to take down a Darkside in a single hit; he knows this from experience…painful experience.

The pressure that has been slowly intensifying around his chest suddenly increases, what was once a steadily constricting grip is now a crushing force. It robs him of the last of his waning control, the choice of when to release the scorching torrent raging within his being is taken from him.

His nerves sing as they are set alight by the wild flames that rise around him. His vision once washed black is now blazing back to life with a red that sets his world on fire.

The hand holding him disappears from his perception, whether it dissolves or the Darkside dropped him doesn't matter. All that matters is the rush of air as he tumbles to the ground in a tangle of exhausted limbs.

He comes to rest uneasily on his side, the only sounds are his ragged breaths and the thunderous beat of his own pulse echoing in his ears. Even so, he doesn't hesitate this time.

Summoning what feels like the last of his strength, he focuses on calling a Corridor of Darkness. Not to the World That Never Was; for whatever reason that isn't working. No, he opens a connection to the closest world that still possesses light, he's not even sure which world it is—Twilight Town again? He doesn't know—he doesn't care, so long as it isn't here.

When it finally forms, he all but falls into the corridor. Some impassive part of his brain that sounds suspiciously like Saix tells him that he's just going to fall face first into the cold ash of the Realm of Darkness again.

The voice is half right; he does fall face first onto the ground, but instead of the yawning abyss of darkness the smell of fresh rain, the feel of soft grass beneath him, and a distant dawn shielded by laden clouds greets him.

"Heh, made it." The words are little more than a whispered slur mumbled into the dirt, but they take the last of his strength and with it his final grasp on consciousness.

Sensations and sounds come to him in dribs and drabs.

The feeling of light rain landing on his bare skin, flowing into his open wounds with a haze of trickling pain that washes away all warmth.

A gentle wind lingering to brush through his hair as it meanders across the land, whispering soft words he can't understand through the trees.

Dew wet grass presses against his fingers in a gentle caress, only to be replaced with the overwhelming pain that burns through every nerve.

Most prevalent is the smell of blood, the iron rich tang that leaves him with the taste of copper covering his tongue.

Each of these fractured scenes come to him in-between almost comforting periods of oblivion. Immeasurable periods of time in which he is free of the burning cold that seems to have seized his limbs.

The borders of this peaceful abyss of insensibility is where the voices are most clear.

"Isa? Is that my…"

"If this is some sort of prank, I swear I'm gonna—"

"It's just a bet Isa, no need to get all fired up about it."

"Dude down here…I need some help."

"You're crying again."

"I already gave hi…ut it only took care of…he had across his chest."

"…on cast Esuna now!"

"It's the charm s… can't cry, you'll mak…liar."

The voices all sound far away, but he can recognise a few of them, but he's too tired to figure out which ones.

It's the press of a hand against his forehead that convinces him to try and wake up. The peel of dried blood tangled in his lashes has him blinking disorientedly. Through blurred vision all he can make out is a flash of blonde against the backdrop of dark green that is probably the woods he's landed in.

"Hey, are you awake?" A high-pitched voice he doesn't know asks. There's the briefest moment where he smiles because yep, Saix is gonna kill him for not blowing his cover not once but twice. Then the pull of sore muscles reminds him that moving anything at the moment is just not worth it.

"…ay awake, help is on the way." Axel blinks slowly at that. He is awake, even though his eyes are closed again…wait, when did that happen?

A hand rests against his shoulder and Axel feels an aborted shake.

"Sorry, sorry, my bad." If he doesn't die of blood loss, he swears he's gonna set this kid on fire. It's a mercy compared to the agony that just shot through his entire body. Ripples of pain irradiating out from his shoulder, stealing all his focus.

His eyes close again and this time he can't fight the wave of fatigue clawing at his beaten body.

"Ye cannee blame me lad. I'm a businessman, and no merchant worth his salt is gonna lend out his ship fer free." There's a glint in the old ducks' eye that's giving Roxas a headache.

"I already said we'd be willing to pay." Roxas groans as he tries and fails to stop his hand from mussing through his hair. A nervous tell that has made him lose more than one poker game—seriously, he'll never forgive Isa for introducing Xion to that game.

"Och, I make more than enough munney from this fine establishment." Scrooge gestures to the restaurant behind him, pride written in every line of his body. "What I'm askin fer is much more valuable."

"What is it that you want?" Already suspicious Roxas crosses his arms, trying to look unmoved.

"Pah, tis a trifle." Scrooge turns away, trying to hide the unscrupulous smile that's curling his lips. "I donne suppose ye ever heard of the deal I had with young Sora?"

Roxas feels a slight twinge of sadness at the mention of Sora, but he shakes it off. Riku and Kairi will bring him back.

"No, I didn't."

"Tis the easiest thing in the world me boy, and if you were willing to do me this small favour, I'd be more than willing to lend you and yur friends the use of me Gummi Ship." Scrooge already knows he's won and to be honest Roxas is too worried to fight him.

That said, he's not so naïve that he's going to accept the job without first knowing what it is. "What favour?"

Smiling unrepentantly Scrooge explains, "just bring me some new ingredients from whichever worlds ye and yer friends visit."

Roxas blinks in confusion. "That's it?"

"That's it." Scrooge nods.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth Roxas sticks out his hand. "Deal."

"Pleasure doin' business with ye laddie." Scrooge shakes his hand firmly. "Just let me know when you're ready to embark."

Stunned that it was that easy, Roxas nods before he runs towards Station Hill, where he'd last seen Xion and Isa. He needs to give them the good news.

Just as he's wondering how he's going to find them the roar of an explosion and a plume of smoke rises above the rooftops.

"That'll be them."