A/N: Why, hello you perfect little soul that decided to open my story. Thank you. -insert creepy stalker-like face-

BLAH.

So, let's go over the drill:

I do not own Kingdom Hearts II, nor do I own Dusk Number 482. Nothing was harmed in the making of this story. Well, only the pictures and Dusk 923.

He's the Dusk Roxas kills at the start of the game.

Please, enjoy~.


Worthless.

Alone.

Pointless.

Blank.

Ignorant.

Number 482 always thought that it didn't matter what other's said; The Dusk was used to all the negative comments about its self, thinking that those were the 'I love you's of his Superior officers. It enjoyed the praise and decided to make the bosses happy, or something. It wanted some sort of glory.

Ha; Like it had any.

It twitched a bit as it walked slowly down the wooded path in Twilight Town. Taking those pictures was a pretty nifty idea. The Dusk always liked Roxas the best, and there was nothing in the Castle to remind it or the other's of the little guy. Well,there was stuff in the redhead's room, but Number 482 wasn't going to risk dying to catch a glimpse of the memories.

Dying wasn't fun, right? It was sure dying was painful.

Oh, and boring.

482 wasn't a fan of boring things.

Much like most 'people' or animals, if you don't watch where you are going you will trip; and the woods around Number 482 increased tripping accidents. It just had to be fate for The Dusk to fall... Because It did, spilling all the collected pictures of Roxas all over the ground. It recovered quickly, flailing Its pointy hands in distress.

How could It pick them up? It didn't have any fingers...

Another flailing session ensued for a decent three minutes, Number 482 started stabbing at the pictures. It collected some, some being two, and stabbed holes in the others. Poor pictures... They never stood a chance with the pointy, spear-like hands of 482.

A low, creepy noise emitted from Its zipper like mouth as the pictures The Dusk 'saved', split in pieces. Now, Nobodies were known for being 'emotionless', but if Number 482 had a heart, it would be crying. Oh, and it would have shattered when Number 923 snatched the other pictures.

Maybe he wasn't the only Roxas fan among his fellow worthless comrades.

Deciding not to let it bother 482's simple little mind, all It did was launch its self up into the air. It did its awkward little squirmy dance, and vanished back to the Castle.

He had something else in mind.