Title: Cleanup in Aisle Seven
Author: Apatheia
Characters: Roxas and Xigbar, with mentions of Xemnas
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: (Crack) Xigbar had never particularly cared for shopping, but perhaps the best thing about the grocery store was the seemingly endless supply of potatoes.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Square Enix and Disney. Please don't sue; the only thing you would get is a few dollars in change and some Kingdom Hearts tee-shirts.

Cleanup in Aisle Seven




Xigbar squeezed the trigger of the modified rifle in his hands and his arms jerked from the backlash.

A sad, misshapen excuse for a potato shot out of the barrel with enough force to bust through a window and nailed some poor unfortunate sap in the face. Blood gushed from the man's nose in generous spurts, several drops even going so far as to decorate the bags of flour on the shelf.

Unable to utter anything more than a startled cry – not that words would have helped him – the man stumbled back. His grocery cart, predictably filled with the stereotypical bachelor food, was abandoned in favor of tending to his unanticipated injury.

"Idiot should have ducked for cover," Xigbar offered to the swirling shadows surrounding him. His lips curved up in a wicked grin and a chuckle bubbled up in the back of his throat. Rolling his shoulders to relieve the slight tension building, he adjusted his aim and pulled the trigger again.

Another potato soared through the air and within seconds made contact with the unsuspecting man's forehead. His latest victim fell to the ground with a satisfyingly dull thud, and with the sense of a job well done to comfort him the dark-haired man returned to the unnatural shadows that trailed across the ceiling.

Xigbar took a moment to reload his rifle before he continued onward.

One innocent bystander down with only dozens more to go.

Although he had never particularly cared for shopping, perhaps the best thing about the grocery store was the seemingly endless supply of potatoes. He had already helped himself to two bags, one of which was nearly gone, and as long as the foolish idiots kept supplying the ammo, he was more than happy to do them the favor of picking them all off one by one.

Gun loaded and ready to fire, he traversed the familiar corridors of darkness with ease and reappeared above a shelf towards the end of the toilet paper aisle. The stack of paper towels proved more than adequate in serving as a makeshift stand for his use; he was able to settle into place and take aim at a certain blond-haired boy within seconds.

It was obvious that Roxas was completely unaware – and thus completely deserving – of his approaching fate, his attention utterly focused on an internal debate between adding the expensive name brand or the much cheaper generic brand known for chafing to the metal cart at his side.

Xigbar's lips twisted mockingly and without hesitation, he fired. Accompanied by a loud whoosh, the potato-turned-projectile closed in on the thirteenth member of the Organization, its speed increasing with each passing centimeter.

Not quite rolling his eyes, Roxas stepped back at the very last minute and narrowly dodged what would have been a painful blow to the solar plexus. With nothing to stop or even alter its trajectory, the potato rushed onward until it finally met opposition.

The elderly woman pushing her cart out of the aisle was not fortunate enough to have reflexes honed from intensive training, nor was she fortunate enough to have the extra sensory perception that could have warned her of the danger she was in.

She was, however, fortunate enough to suffer only a bone-shattering blow to her ankle.

Arms flailing wildly and feet shooting out from beneath her body, the woman fell to the ground in a graceless heap of tangled limbs and flowered skirts. Her cart veered off to the left and knocked over a nearby display of canned soup, leaving a trail of tomato-y carnage in its wake as it rolled towards the frozen meat section.

The unconscious woman most likely sporting a broken ankle and a concussion was soon buried beneath the cans, adding bruises and just general embarrassment to her growing list of injuries. The few cans that had managed to avoid her in their fall rolled away to trip anyone foolish enough to walk by.

Xigbar grinned even as Roxas pinned him down with a slight glare.

"Just what are you doing?" The boy demanded sharply, his tone eerily reminiscent of Vexen with all of its disapproval. Xigbar was not at all fazed by the vague annoyance directed at him, all too sure that somewhere deep inside, the runt was secretly laughing at the elderly woman's plight.

It's what he would have done, after all.

Roxas' lips thinned into a tight frown, and he crossed his arms over his chest in the universal sign of displeasure.

Okay, maybe that laughter of his was hidden away deep inside.

"Just picking off a few more roaches," he answered conversationally, pushing aside one of the packages of paper towels that had only minutes ago helped him.

Xigbar offered the runt a cheeky salute before aiming the rifle directly at his head. Even with the slight distance between them, he could easily see Roxas glance at the mouth of the barrel with a look that spoke of just how unimpressed he was.

"You're going to get us all kicked out because of your antics," Roxas warned him, turning blue eyes back to the man's face. "I don't think Xemnas will be pleased to hear that you've gotten us banned from yet another store."

"As if!" Xigbar shrugged lazily. "The Superior's too busy making sure the castle's in running order heart to worry 'bout me, kid. 'Sides, he should have learned by now that I don't do grocery duty."

For a moment, he could have sworn he saw some form of protest forming on the runt's lips. However, practicality seemed to have won over his mind and instead of words, Roxas offered a particularly long sigh.

"You'd best go then, before someone not too preoccupied with playing house catches you," he advised, his voice carrying only a hint of the resignation that lurked behind his eyes. Xigbar smirked; obviously, the runt had reached the conclusion that if he feigned ignorance, he could get his chore done in peace.

With a sharp bark of laughter and another mocking salute, Xigbar deftly slid back into the concealment of darkness and began to search for his next victim.

If he were a store manager, where would he be hiding?