OD: OC Info Mission 6

Shax knew he was dreaming when he saw the wall. He hadn't turned to face the rest of the room yet, but he knew what he would find. He knew every mark, every piece of peeling plaster on this wall. He had certainly stared at it long enough, on the cold nights when his raggedy blankets simply hadn't been enough to keep the chill away. Wide-eyed and shivering, he had laid there, waiting for morning and the return of the sun.
     Stepping closer, he brushed his fingers along the wall, smiling slightly as he found the char mark where he had first tried igniting a pile of match-heads. It was black against the dingy gray of the plaster. The color suddenly reminded him that he was dreaming. The day before he had filled this house with smoke, the wall had been almost the same color as his smoke-smudged fingers: black. It had been another sign that the Neoshadows were taking over his home. As the building itself changed in color, darkening a shade every day, he had grown more and more desperate.
     But that wasn't the point. The point was that it was gray – and not just dark gray, the truly pale gray that marked a purely Gray area. A place for the scavengers, where no rem or Heartless dared go. There were no Neoshadows here.
     "What the hell are you doing here?" Shax started violently, spinning around. Then he saw the face of his accuser, and he went white. The boy standing there was the mirror image of him. Shax's hand shot up to his face, relaxing when he realized his hood was up, hiding his face in shadow. Even as he did so, his mind worked furiously, trying to understand the impossibility facing him.
     "Well?"
     Shax realized he still hadn't answered the boy. He shrugged.
     "What kind of an answer is that?"
     It was at this point Shax noticed the tattoos underneath the boy's eyes. They were not red like his, as he had initially thought, but gray. So the boy wasn't the image of him, he was the image of-
     "Answer me!" Ash demanded, reaching for his back pocket. Shax clenched his teeth, realizing he had to do something.
     "I don't know," he admitted, speaking quietly and allowing his voice to rasp, hoping it would keep Ash from recognizing him.
     Ash blinked, holding the unopened switchblade in his hand. "What do you mean you don't know? Who are you, anyway?"
     Shax smiled to himself. He knew those sentences alone were more than Ash would say in weeks, left to his own devices. It was a habit he had never noticed in himself, back when he had a heart. He talked more when he was afraid or confused. Nowadays he tried to speak as little as possible. No sense in antagonizing the other Discordians, although it was too late for some - Jaaxny and Ryxeme, namely.
     The sound of a switchblade opening brought him back to his current situation. If he didn't move fast, he was about to get stabbed by his own Somebody.
     "Wait," he said, holding up his hands. Coincidentally, this brought his hand closer to flicking the catch on his wristblade. But he didn't think it would come to that. "My name is Shax."
     "Why are you here? And what… what Color are you?" Ash asked, squinting at the red and gray patterns on Shax's coat. Then something seemed to click in his head. "You're like Myxa, aren't you. A..."
     "A Nobody," Shax finished for him, although it had taken every bit of self-control he had to keep from starting at the mention of Myxa. He had met her when he was fourteen, but she had left a deep impression on him. Laughing and joking, she was easily the happiest person he had ever met. But she claimed not to feel.
     "Yes, a Nobody like Myxa. But not nearly as… cheerful."
     "You know Myxa?"
     "You could say that. I met her once, a long time ago."
     "I only met her once, too," said Ash, sitting on the edge of his nest of blankets, all thoughts of enmity seemingly forgotten. Shax watched him carefully, trying to judge his age. Obviously older than fourteen, if he had met Myxa. Shax decided Ash looked seventeen. Only a year to live, then. The thought seemed strangely frightening.
     "So, who were you before?" Ash continued his stream of questions, although they no longer held a hostile edge to them.
     "A scavenger," Shax replied.
     "I meant your name," Ash said, frowning. "Take out the X, rearrange the-" Abruptly, all the color drained out of his face. He swayed in place, staring at Shax. "You… you're… you're me."
     "I am," Shax admitted, seeing no point in maintaining the deception. "Or at least I was once." He flipped back his hood, revealing features identical to Ash's own.
     Ash looked sick. "But I would never go into a Black area…"
     "You didn't," Shax said quickly, trying to reassure him. "It was… complicated."
     But Ash was past the point of reassurance. He jumped to his feet, holding the switchblade out in front of him. The defiant gesture reminded Shax of his first meeting with the superiors of his Organization, when he had tried to stab Zenothx.
     "Get out," demanded Ash, his voice shaking. "I know you can open those… portal things. Get out of my house and don't come back."
     Shax backed away, realizing he could not argue with the near-hysterical teenager. Waving a hand, he let a Dark Corridor swirl up around him. The darkness began to obscure his vision, but he could see that Ash was walking towards him…

Shax opened his eyes, panicking for a moment. Then he blinked, sitting up in bed. Of course, it had been a dream. He had just forgotten that for a moment. It had seemed so real, and his Somebody had reacted just the way he would have expected, making him sure he was about to be stabbed. But he was safe. Or at least as safe as he could be in a Manor shrouded by clouds of pure Darkness. Shax shrugged and lay back again, trying to get back to sleep. But something about the dream would not leave his mind…