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(Takes place after Lunacy and before The White Hand. Docadoc only for now.)[/size]

[i]Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before...[/i]
--Edgar Allen Poe, &quot;The Raven&quot;


Halloween Town, dark as ever. Things were much more lively here nowadays, though, ever since Jack Skellington returned from his Interfering journeys. Much more planning was done since then, much more excitement to be had for next Halloween...

But we're not here to talk about that. This is not what today's story is about, after all.

In the graveyard just before the Curly Hill, only one recognizable character from the world, Zero the ghost dog, barked playfully as he weaved to and fro around the gravestones. Barely missed by a mere inch, he flew away just as a large dog, patches of its skin missing to reveal blood and bones, pounced the area he once was. The zombie dog barked playfully as he continued to chase the smaller, spectral creature, the two canines having bonded quite quickly.

Kalas laughed as he watched Lucifer play chase with the ghost dog, sitting upon a sacrophagus while he kept an eye on the Mauthe Doog. The demon dog hadn't changed that much upon entry of this dark world, unlike him. The young man's slightly brazen skin was now deathly pale and tinted blue, with stitches seen on his face, neck, and arms. His clothes were now rags, ripped at the pants legs, the ridges of his shirt, and the sleeves; the only thing kept from his usual attire was the cape that hid his winglet. And speaking of his winglet, that had also changed, from metal and looking skeletal, to an actual skeleton wing; and if he were to summon his natural wing, instead of gray, it would be pure ebony, like a raven.

Kalas wasn't too annoyed by the appearance change; he actually found it kind of cool. The one-winged hero dropped by here just so he and Lucifer could relax, after having slept in back on the [i]White Dragon[/i]. Due to certain events back in Port Royal, neither of them had slept a whole night before coming here. But other than that, nothing else went wrong with him, especially since now he had enough money to look after himself for a week or two. So at the moment, he wasn't too worried about anything outside of the usual.

As Lucifer and Zero continued their playtime, Kalas reached back and pulled out the Oblivion Keyblade. It had been a while since he used it last, so he decided that now was a good time to look it over more. The rust from years without use was almost gone, but it was far from mint condition. Kalas pointed the Key out in front of him, as if he were locking something like Sora did back in his world. He was far from a real Keyblader like the kid, that he knew...but he still felt that bit of existence within the weapon, as well as this bit of living trying to reach out to connect with his heart. Even if he carried it around to give it purpose, it still wasn't enough to bond with it like a Guardian Spirit...

His thoughts came to a stop as something had perched itself upon the Key all of a sudden. A raven, to be exact, that looked at the blue-haired man with its deep black eyes. As Kalas laid his eyes upon the bird, he immediately thought of his namesake, as well as thinking back to when he learned of his origin. He remembered being told who had given him his name, and the meaning behind it...

[i]&quot;Hearing you were not the perfect being he had envisioned, the Emperor called you an ill omen, a cursed premonition of things to come. He named you 'Kalas', which means 'Raven' in a long-lost language. After we left the Empire, we tried to give you a new name, but you would have none of it. Your name was the one thing you remembered...&quot;

&quot;...I guess it was the reason for my existence, and my hatred... Something I just couldn't get rid of...&quot;[/i]

Even though it came to mind, he had long since accepted his namesake and what he was: the result of an experiment to create life by other means. He also denied what they said about ravens, that they were bad omens, usually of death. Disregarding his luck, he had avoided bringing destruction and managed to save his world. So rather than scorn the bird he was named after, Kalas instead gave a smirk and reached his hand to the raven, who left the Keyblade and perched upon his forefinger in response. Placing the Keyblade away, Kalas brought his hand closer and used the other to pet the raven's head.

&quot;Wonder what bad stuff you're gonna bring,&quot; he joked with a small laugh. However, unbeknownst to the Baten Kaitos protagonist, things were definitely about to take a turn for the worst...

====

There was indeed great trouble brewing.  And not the kind of mischievous trouble that this world seemed to favor so greatly, but of the sinister variety, the one that spoke of death and despair and doom.

The beauty of it was that these feelings could be spawned from such an average looking person.

Or at least, that was what Jonathan Crane thought to himself, as he entered the Gothic (Gothic like everything else in this town) graveyard, the gate creaking loudly as it swung open.

Unlike many of the visitors to this world, who donned costumes in the likeness of terrifying creatures, he wore the outfit of a stereotypical university professor, including the jacket with elbow patches, slacks, and brown loafers.  Of course, he recognized the irony of this.  The main theme of Halloween was pretending to be something that one was not, and he did indeed think himself much more Scarecrow than Jonathan Crane.

So far, he had enjoyed his stay in this place.  After escaping from the she-wolf and that girl he had had a rather relaxing time.  No one had challenged his presence, and some of the freakish inhabitants seemed to almost enjoy his presence.  The only thing that bothered him was that they were not dedicated to [i]true[/i] fear, only silly pranks to elicit a response.  That was momentary surprise, not fear.  They seemed to be immune to his fear toxin as well, oddly.  They only thought it some sort of foolish smoke bomb one could use for foolish pranks.  He had reminded himself to study this further another time, to see if he could make a batch that would have some affect on these people.  That professor fellow seemed to have the resources and the will to assist him, after all.

To use an old phrase, it was 'his kind of town'.

These thoughts came to halt as he spotted the person sitting upon a sarcophagus.  He had most definitely not seen this person before, and it was easy to guess he was not of this world, despite the disguise.

Crane adjusted his glasses, and put on his best imitation of a friendly smile and the actions of a doddering professor.  He walked briskly towards the blue-haired boy, pretending to stumble over a rock and dropping his glasses.  Muttering 'oh dear' and other such sayings, he crouched and grabbed around for the spectacles, as if it were hard for him to see without them.

====

Kalas' little interaction with the raven was cut off when someone had stumbled nearby. He looked over to find the man crouched on the ground, feeling for the spectacles that were right in front of him. At first, Kalas would have rolled his eyes and left the klutzy man to his business. People tripped every day, and even though he was willing to help, it wasn't over small things like picking up a lost pair of glasses for them.

However, one thing had stopped him from his typical 'who cares' behavior. Unlike everything else in this world, this man looked nothing like some mythical horror monster or anything of the like. Instead, he was...normal. Of course, Kalas' definition of 'normal' was skewed, since he grew up in the City of Illusion (though not technically born there), where thngs were always out of the norm. But even then, this sight had raised his suspicions, and even more when the raven gave a scolding caw at the man before flying off.

The blue-haired swordsman decided to be the nice guy in order to figure out what was going on. And with Lucifer and the ghost dog having left his sight (again), he was going to have to handle this alone. So, with a sigh, Kalas got up from the sarcophagus, knelt before the man, and picked up the glasses before handing them back to him. Any normal person would ask if he were alright, or tell him to be careful. But Kalas took a different approach.

&quot;How come you don't look like a freakish thing like everything else here?&quot; Blunt and straight to the point.

====

Crane took the glasses and placed them back over his eyes, feigning gratefulness.  He didn't bother answering the boy's question with some cryptic metaphor, that was likely to lead to suspicion.  It was also more Nygma's forte, and he did whatever he could to avoid being compared to the Riddler.  So, he settled for a shrug.

&quot;I'm not sure myself.&quot;

He sat on the most comfortable looking tombstone, still wearing a warm smile.

&quot;I don't think I've seen you here before.  What's your name, where are you from?&quot;

Unlike his last two victims, Crane wanted to spend time getting to know this one better.  After all, it was much easier to identify a person's fears if he knew their personalities.

====

Kalas frowned as the man just gave a simple answer to why he looked the way he did. Despite his friendly demeanor, something just seemed...wrong, to put it lightly. He didn't know why, but this tall, slender man gave him a real bad feeling. Sure, he didn't [i]look[/i] threatening, but, as they always say, looks can be very deceiving. He wasn't even sure if he should make this bit of small talk with him now, what with the risk of being caught off guard...

Screw it, he decided, he'll humor him for a bit. If he was aware of what would happen now, then he'd be able to prevent it from happening, or so he hoped. He just wanted to know if he could trust this guy or not. So, with a shrug, Kalas leaned back on his hands on the tombstone next to the one the man was sitting on.

&quot;My name is Kalas,&quot; he said, then held up a hand. &quot;And before you ask what kind of name is that, it means 'raven' back where I'm from.&quot; Now to where he was from...Kalas thought a bit on how to answer that. Though he had been told the name of his world, he wasn't sure if he should just tell, in case this guy were an enemy and he'd find his way there and put his friends in danger. With that thought, he decided to give only a partial answer to that, &quot;As for where I'm from...I come from a place called Mira. You probably never heard of it; not many people have.&quot;

Here, he looked to the man and asked, &quot;What about you? Got a name and place you're from?&quot;

====

The man watched Kalas intently as he spoke, reading expressions, the minute twitches in the eyes, mouth, eyebrows, and other facial twitches.  The boy wasn't lying as far as he could tell, or at least not entirely.

Of course, that didn't mean [i]he [/i]wouldn't.  After all, he couldn't have the boy go running around with his true name to reveal to people.

He decided on the first name that came to mind.

&quot;My name is Bruce Wayne.  I come from a city called Gotham, myself.  Rather dreary place, to say the least.&quot;

Crane carefully tried to changed the subject back to Kalas.

&quot;Raven, eh?  That's rather interesting.  Any reason for such a name?&quot;  

He was attempting to discern the boy's backstory and origins in little bits and pieces, anything that could be useful in the future.

====

Once again, Kalas thought over how to answer this. He never really told anyone his personal backstory, and those who knew either knew through his game, or had other ways of finding out about it. He didn't think this &quot;Bruce&quot; (he honestly doubted that was his real name) would be any different. Besides, an experiment that was a disappointment to the Emperor would raise more than a few eyebrows.

He decided instead to make something up, at least somewhat.

&quot;From what I've been told,&quot; Kalas started, thinking for a bit on how to word it, &quot;I had a step-father who didn't think I was good enough. So he gave me that name out of spite, calling me a bad omen and whatnot...&quot;

He did all he could not to curl his hands into fists right then. Even if this was somewhat made up, that fact still angered him more than anything. He left it, however, as he let out a sigh. &quot;He's dead now, so to hell with him. And it ain't like my name really matters anymore now.&quot; He gave a shrug of his shoulders as he asked, &quot;I mean, I don't look like a bad omen, do I?&quot;

====

Crane smiled again.  He could tell the boy wasn't telling the entire truth, by such signs as the slight twitching of his hands, among other things.  Either way, he obviously had strong feelings about the event, whether or not he claimed to have moved on.  It could be something to exploit later.  He decided to keep up the friendly facade a little longer, using some of his own experiences to perhaps make a connection, or at least keep him distracted for a moment.

&quot;I had a rather unloving family, myself.  I never knew my father, or my mother, or my siblings.&quot; Of course, he neglected mentioning attempting to murder his sister.  &quot;I was forced to stay with my witch of a grandmother and her horrid crows.  I personally believe those evil birds are far more of a dark omen than ravens.&quot;

At this, he retrieved a small canister from his pocket, his mask from another.  After pressing a small button and tossing it to Kalas, the canister spewing gas, he put on the mask.  

&quot;As I'm sure you'll soon come to see for yourself.&quot;

====

When the man explained his own personal backstory, Kalas had to frown himself. While 'unloving family' wasn't completely right for him, what with his grandfather and little brother (though not biologically), he still had to feel sympathy for what he had to go through. He knew it was a bad idea to do that, but...he couldn't help himself.

&quot;Geez...sorry about that...&quot; He had been about to place a hand on his should, to show his sympathies.

But then came the canister. This caught the blue-haired boy off-guard, even more so when it began to spew out gas. Kalas brought the collar of his cape to cover his mouth; sadly, he had already breathed in the contents before he could avoid it.

Then the man's last words. Kalas looked up in time to see the mask he now wore. Damn it, he swore to himself, he should have known! Why couldn't he have just left it and made a break for it?!

He didn't have enough time to further curse himself for his stupid mistake. Like the masked man said, he was about to see how much more of a dark omen crows were, much sooner than expected. The next thing Kalas knew, he had fallen to the ground, yelling out, waving his arms like he were swatting something away.

Crows. Many of them, swarming all over him. Pecking at his face, his eyes, his skin. All of them with red eyes, all of them whispering to him as they attacked him...

[i]&quot;Come back...come back to us....&quot;[/i]

&quot;STOP! STOP IT!!&quot;

====

Scarecrow laughed as the boy fell to the ground, swatting at the air as if trying to fend off some attack.  Based on the way he was trying to defend himself, he was hallucinating being attacked by birds, just as had been predicted.

The Batman villain leaned over Kalas, his voice taking on a rather calm and soothing tone, despite the malicious words he said.

“It must be incredibly painful, to feel them ripping and tearing and pecking at your flesh.  It would be so much easier to give in.  To let go and allow fear to guide you.”

====

No matter how much he continued to fend them off, the murder of crows kept coming. Tore at him, blinded him, cawed at him. Even if he wasn't hurt in reality, he could feel himself bleeding where they had pecked him. And their voices through the caws; by the gods, the voices...

[i]&quot;Our servant.....come back.....one of us......&quot;[/i]

They were just like the voices in that damned town.

As Kalas continued to scream in pain and try to fight off the birds, internally, he cursed at himself even more. Not just for falling for this damn trick, either. For leaving his Magnus deck back on the ship, including those that contained his weapons. For leaving Xelha's pendant back there as well, figuring they should spend some time away from each other's minds. For not bringing himself to call for Lucifer's help, wherever he was now, not without the hallucinations threatening to tear out his throat. For not reaching back to the Oblivion Key, his only weapon for now, once more, without the stab wound that he received so long ago being threatened to be torn open.

And the masked man's voice, telling him to give in. Despite feeling blinded, Kalas could see him clearly. This time, he saw his eyes glowing through the mask, red like the crows. More of the birds were perched on him, but they didn't attack, just looking down at him, mocking him for his moment of weakness. Hero of his world, and here he was, attacked by birds and unable to defend himself.

He wanted to yell at him so bad, but he couldn't through his cries of pain. Instead, he did all he could to hold it back, and instead uttered out only one word.

&quot;Why...?&quot;

====

&quot;'Why' you ask?  Oh, I have many reasons.&quot;

Scarecrow leaned further downwards, peering into Kalas' eyes.  He figured his mask was not the most welcome of sights to the bot at the moment, and he was going to use every ounce of intimidation he could muster from himself and the effects of the toxin.

&quot;To show that without fear, society is nothing.  To make a profit for myself, of course.  Studying the fear of others has always been an interest of mine.&quot;

And now he spoke directly to Kalas.

&quot;And to show people that they are for more weak than they make themselves out to be.  I know you're type rather well, boy.  Overconfident, prone to sarcasm.  At least, that is how you pretend to act.  I believe, on the inside, you feel rather helpless.  And with good reason.  You [i]are[/i] helpless.  I think you've had many an experience similar to our encounter.  What does that say about the strength of your will?  Hardly anything good.&quot;

====

Kalas wanted so badly to look away when Scarecrow leaned closer. Away from that damned mask, from those eyes peering into him. But the hallucinations would not allow it. They pulled at his hair to hold him down, held the top of his eyelids to keep from closing. They forced him to look directly at the face that no doubt horrified him in this state, listen to the voice that echoed and hissed to him, thanks to the effects of that gas.

However, when he gave the first set of reasons to why he would do this, the fear that had rose in him slowly gave away to anger. He was doing this...out of [i]profit?[/i] Because he wanted to [i]study[/i] another's fear? [i]That[/i] was why?! What kind of cruel, sick, twisted individual was this guy to think like that!? He...he was almost as bad as...

But then he went to talk about him. About how weak he really was, how he was really helpless on the inside. Despite his anger building up on those statements...in truth, he couldn't deny that he was right. He couldn't deny that his attitude, his callous approach, was all just a front to hide how lost and alone he was. Yes, this fact had been shown to him before, but...no one had told him outright like this man. It truly struck a chord, terrified him that he practically [i]knew[/i] this fact...

...but that didn't mean he was going to admit to it. No matter what the masked villain said, he was wrong with the last part. He had experienced this before, with Silent Hill, with Ignis Fatuus, and with Alma. But he had overcome all of it...well, all but the last, but that was not the case. He was not going to give in to his fears, not in front of this scrawny bastard.

Doing all he could to ignore the pain of the birds continuously pecking and swarming at him, which was easier said than done, Kalas turned over, pushed to his hands and knees. He had been about to reach for Oblivion, ignore the threat of his hand to be torn apart, when he remembered something. Of course, how could he have forgotten that he had a summonable weapon in the Death deck? Another thing to curse himself for, especially since it could help him now...

Teeth gritted, the pain of his flesh being torn still there. &quot;Shut...&quot; The Nothing Threads twisting around his hand. &quot;Your...&quot; Slowly rising to his feet, despite the murder. &quot;Mighty Ocean-damned...&quot; His wings, both the skeletal and the raven-feathered, unfurling from under his cape.

And finally, a sharp glare in his blue eyes. &quot;MOUTH!!!&quot;

With that outburst, the many cards that appeared in his hand, sent out as he threw his arm out. Cutting through the hallucinated crows, and zipping their way towards Scarecrow.

====

Scarecrow just barley managed to duck under the storm of cards flying towards him.  He jumped to the side, and drew his scythe.

&quot;I must remember to find a way to strengthen my toxin.  Your type seems rather adept at fighting its effects.  How irritating.&quot;

He made a heavy swing with his weapon horizontally, aiming to maim the winged-boy.

====

If it weren't for the fact that his winglet was all bone in this world, Kalas would have flown out of the way of the scythe. Instead, he acted on gut instinct, now pulling out the oversized Key and holding it up in the nick of time. With a loud [b][i]clang[/b][/i], he actually managed to catch the curved blade with the shaft of the Keyblade. His arm still shook from the impact, and there was still the hallucinations trying to hold him back.

But no matter how painful they were, the winged boy ignored it all as best as he could and kept his grip, giving a small, crazed smirk.

&quot;It takes more than nightmares to bring me down.&quot;

With that comment, Kalas then pushed the scythe away from him, hoping to send the man stumbling back. He then drew his arm back and threw a punch at Scarecrow's face, at that damned mask of his.

====

Crane took the punch, and did stumble backwards, but only slightly.  Unfortunately, he was used to taking quite a few punches from a certain caped crusader, and returned an attack to Kalas in kind, his chin being the target of a high kick from one of his long legs.

&quot;And it takes far more than that to take [i]me[/i] down.&quot;

He followed up with another slash from the scythe, this timed swung overhead towards Kalas' face.

====

The kick sent Kalas tumbling back, making him lose his grip on the Keyblade. He had been caught off guard, and didn't have the time to dodge the overhead slash aimed for his face...

Or so it looked like.

All of a sudden, he ducked low, swiftly, the scythe instead passing over his head. For a moment, a bright flash surrounded the boy, which then became a white blur as it boosted towards Scarecrow with surprising speed. A hand then grabbed his throat tightly, and the light died off, revealing the boy with slight changes. The skeleton wing had fallen to the ground, and in place of the single ebony wing, were the two larger angel wings, and he looked at the masked man with crazed, introverted eyes.

Then, with a boost of both of his wings, the White Winged Chaos flew high into the air, taking the villain with him. The Nothing Threads twisted in his hand again, except this time, it wasn't the Death deck that appeared in his hand. Instead, it was a lance, silver with black ends in the shaft, blue blades on each end. A weapon for this dark persona that was also obtained with the Valor Gear before.

When they were high enough, the angel released his grip by throwing Crane forward. With the lance, he then gave a curved, diagonal slash, before five more lances appeared, all six thrust forward at once in a star shape at the man. Again and again he repeated this, laughing madly as he did so. Finally, he gave one final, hard, downward slash that would send Scarecrow impacting back towards the ground.

====

The former psychiatrist made a gagging sound when the boy suddenly grabbed his throat and lifted him.  He would have made an attempt to evade the sudden attack, had he not been blinded by the sudden light coming from the boy.

The next few seconds were a pain-filled haze as Kalas slashed him over and over, and wit that final attack he fell to the ground, the definite sound of something cracking upon impact.  Crane groaned wit agony, but quickly remembered something.  Some sort of medicinal drink he had taken from that shop in Twilight Town.  Quickly reaching into a pocket, fighting through the pain that was caused by such activity, and pulled out what was apparently called a 'Hi-Potion'.  Disregarding the ridiculous name, he uncorked it and quickly drank it all, ignoring the horrible taste.

As he drank, Crane felt wounds healing, bones going back into their proper places, and large cuts sealing.  He looked up at Kalas, and simply laughed.

&quot;I see now.  You didn't need [i]my[/i] help to fall into madness at all.  You're just as insane as you would say I am.&quot;

As Scarecrow lay there, a swirling darkness appeared beneath him.

&quot;I really would enjoy continuing this conversation further, but I am a busy man.  Appointments to keep, after all.&quot;

With that, the swirling widened into a black portal, which Crane immediately fell through.

====

When Crane hit the ground, Kalas began to dive down, the lance, Vortex, held overhead, preparing to impale him. Even as the masked man healed himself, even as the portal opened underneath him, the angel was dead set on killing the man right then and there, even if he had to follow him down. Half-way down, he gave a strong boost of his white wings, speeding up after the villain fell through the portal, intent to follow through after all.

But he was too late. The portal closed, the lance instead impaled into the ground, rather roughly at that. The White Winged Chaos was on his knees, gripping the lance tightly, breathing deeply. The bastard got away. He wanted...no, he [i]needed[/i] more death and destruction, more chaos to his namesake. He needed it all, needed to succeed in it all, not fail like--

[i]NO![/i]

He gripped his head all of a sudden, his teeth clenched, his eyes shut tight. Kalas was starting to fight for control; however, so was the angel persona. The white wings flashed out, again and again, as they had their internal battle.

Unfortunately for either of them, the toxin had not worn off yet.

All of a sudden, Kalas was on the ground, screaming in agony, squirming violently. Rather than being attacked by the murder of crows, he was being seared alive once again, the steam rising from his body once more. Again, he heard voices, but not like the crows. [i]&quot;No, I can't do it!&quot; &quot;You belong to us.&quot; &quot;Kill them now.&quot;

&quot;KALAS!!!&quot;[/i]

At the last cry for his name, he felt it. The ocean wave coming down on him, pushing him into its depths. He struggled to get back to the surface, but something had kept him down. It was no use. His breath was running low. He fell limp right then, as all went black...

~*~

What seemed to be many hours had passed then. Kalas groaned, having fallen unconscious in the midst of his insanity. The white wings of his dark persona were gone, and as he opened his eyes, they had returned to the deep blue color. He felt something lick the side of his face, as well as a bright red-orange light in his sight, making him wince and bring a hand up for cover.

&quot;Ugh...the hell...?&quot; Slowly, he sat up, and saw that his Mauthe Doog companion and the ghost dog were at his side once more, looking over him with worry. Kalas frowned as he saw the canines, still a bit groggy. Where the hell [i]were[/i] these two the entire time? He didn't ask that, instead going for a different query, &quot;What are you guys doing here?&quot;

Instead of either dogs responding, a caw had sounded out instead. Perched on the gate was the same raven from the start, looking down at all three of them. Kalas looked up to see the bird, and frowned even more. Did it tell the two where he was? Did it know he was in trouble? If it did, why did it have to be so late?

These questions remained unspoken. Kalas just shook his head, the memory of what happened still there. That man, with that damned mask, messing with his mind; his darker self breaking out; and finally, the last hallucination knocking him unconscious. Though he had reminded himself that he needed to find a way to get rid of the angel for good, thinking of the villain who had done this to him, mocking him, and those final words before he ran away like a coward...

His blood began to boil with anger at the thought of it all. He was wrong with those words. He was [i]not[/i] like him at all. No...if he ever saw him again, he will kill him. He didn't care if he used that damned toxin again; he will kill the bastard on the spot.

But now, with no way of knowing where he had gone to, he had to drop it for now. Kalas took a deep breath to calm himself slightly, slowly getting to his feet. He walked over to the fallen bone wing and Oblivion Keyblade, picking them up. Carrying both under one arm, he held his hand out, where the Death deck, which was lying where Vortex had been, had flown back into his grip, before they disappeared into Nothing Threads. He had been on this world long enough.

&quot;C'mon Luce, let's get going,&quot; Kalas said to the demon/zombie dog, who trotted up next to him in response. He then looked at Zero and said, &quot;See ya later, ghost dog.&quot;

Zero barked in response before floating off, most likely making his way to the town square. Before he would make his way out, Kalas looked at the raven once more, still with a frown on his face. The ebony bird looked back with its beady eyes before it gave one last caw and flew off, out of sight. With one last sigh, Kalas walked off to head out of this world, Lucifer in tow.

[i]Quoth the Raven, &quot;Nevermore...&quot;[/i]