The Will to Fight: Start

[voidtreckermods]

"Good Morning Passengers, today is day six of the month of Kazoo." The voice echoes through the train as passengers wake up in their beds. Not long afterwards their SCA’s glow with the colour of the void and a holographic image will appear.

Preparation

They have an hour or two to prepare. Enough time to read their briefs, make decisions, meet in their teams and gather anything they may need. The dressing carriage is open with tents and other basic camping equipment.

"Shortly arriving in system #86525656412355. Drop order is Orange and Blue followed by Red and Purple. Orange and Blue to doors, arriving in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one."

The train lurches as it exits through the void, before descending smoothly to the world below.

Blue and Orange

Arrival

If anyone peeks through the windows as the train lands they will see a glimpse of cracked and crumbling walls, a city on its last legs. As they exit the train, however, any passengers who aren't immune to magics influencing the mind will find themselves looking at grand, sturdy walls, flags with a blue field and golden tower fluttering from the ramparts.

They aren't too far from a gate, depending on where on the train they exited, and the gates are opened and unmanned. Inside, people are going about their business, selling their wares, while children run around playing among dogs and chickens.

The newcomers don't get too much attention, even though their hoodies and combat trousers seem very out of place in this city.

The Towers

The towers stand in each corner of the city. They are solid stone, no windows all the way up. The ground floor is the largest, grand doors leading into a functional yet beautiful foyer, and from there into smaller chambers. Wide, curving stairs lead up into the tower proper.

As they climb the towers they will come to the different levels which are all trapped, to dissuade intruders and train their disciples. They will be able to descend the towers and exit and enter again as many times as they like as they work their way up to the top.

The City

It will soon become apparent that persuading these people to fight isn't going to happen. The war has already been won, the demons were defeated. The world is safe once more. Welcome, travellers, to the Shining City.

Their SCA's show them the locations of the entrances to the catacombs. There are a handful, scattered around the city, clearly designed for quick evacuation should the city defences ever be breached.

Persuading people that the city needs to be evacuated might take a good while.

The Catacombs

The catacombs are cold and dark, lamps having gone unlit for months. Those that are sensitive or can sense magic in any way will be able to tell that at least here the wards hold: no demons will be able to enter.

The tunnels are narrow, able to fit two people side by side at their widest points, but more often than not they must move single file to avoid collapsed walls or leaning pillars. Or, sometimes, piles of bones spilled from the tombs set into the walls. Side tunnels extend out into the darkness, signposts or symbols marking old, unused storerooms, bunkers for temporary shelter, or private tombs and crypts.

At points the tunnels widen out into large chambers, rooms or galleries that have been used as cemeteries for centuries. At other points the tunnels have collapsed or become almost impassable. People will need to wriggle through the gaps or find ways to stabilise the tunnels in order to pass through.

Purple and Red

Arrival

"Red and Purple to doors." The train flies back into the air after dropping Orange and Blue at the city gates. It doesn't go very far; it's less than a minute later that they're landing again. The doors open and they can step out into the destroyed countryside.

They don't get much time to get their bearings as the train flies off again, because coming over a nearby hill is a band of demons, a gate crackling behind them. The band is mostly footsoldiers, with several of the larger breed interspersed.

It's hard to say which side is more taken by surprise, but the Voidtreckers will only have moments to ready themselves before the demons rush in.

Defending the City

It's a wide area to cover, surrounding the city, and there is plenty of work to be done. Bands of demons roam around, most headed towards the city. They run, claws digging into the ground, leaving a trail of destruction behind them. Sometimes they will have a larger demon or even two with them, armed with toxic whips that they use with dangerous accuracy.

Other times there will be smaller demons, carrying ornate daggers, whispering foul spells to drain and bind their enemies. These demons become more regular as the days progress as it becomes obvious that taking the city will not be as easy as they first thought.

Closing the Demon Gates

The gates nearer the city are smaller, and easy enough to find, but the SCA's of the red team pinpoint more and more gates as they open in the areas further out. Triangular markings on their SCA maps indicate distance and direction.

The gates must be closed from the other side, so the first thing is to enter them. Entering the gates feels strange, uncomfortable, as if something were tugging and clawing at their very being, trying to pull them out of their own skin.

That feeling lasts for a moment, albeit one that feels stretched, and then they are in the demon realm: a monochrome world devoid of life, where every step taken tires the body, where even existing is exhausting.

The gates are guarded, so adjusting will need to be done in combat. Smaller gates have fewer guards than the larger, but all will fight savagely to protect the keystone.

The keystones are smooth black obelisks about a foot high, usually stood on a plinth or set above the gate location as a centrepiece. Each can be destroyed by blunt force or any other ability able to shatter stone, and once it is they will have a short amount of time to leave before the gate closes. Their SCA will helpfully start a timer indicating this.

Comments

[adregem]

His mind runs a marathon.

It's not about patience. The longer we wait, the more resources we spend. We don't have unlimited supplies.

Rannygazoo stands and starts another running sprint over his leg. He hums as Tidus speaks. There is a lack of quiet in the static buzz filling his ears.

We're at such a disadvantage...Everyone from the demon realm can hurt us, but we can't all retaliate. We'll lose a battle of attrition.

Roland leans back even more, closing his eyes in rest. His breaths are deep, holding them in, before exhaling calm.

Nothing to worry about, huh?

Well, that wasn't untrue either.

"Yeah. You're right. We'll be fine. We just need to work together. One team, one dream. Isn't that what they say?" At least on his world, they do. But more and more as the days blur into singular moments does Roland come to the same conclusion. Coming from his world, from Earth where demons and deities only stayed in stories and dreams. Roland lets out a breathy chuckle, opening his eyes and asking Rannygazoo to come into his open palms, cradling the higgledy close to his chest. Petting his tummy, so he hiiigs~ in contentment.

"It's funny. One minute you think you've got it all figured out, then in the next, you're playing a game in the big leagues when you've only ever played in the small-time." Was he making sports metaphors for Tidus's sake? Maybe. The words come all the same, mean the same thing for what he adds next, not quite self-deprecating but full of misplaced serenity. An acceptance.

"Kind of sucks being just a guy when so much is riding on us. It wasn't this hard, back in Evermore. But I guess I was relying a lot on my friends back then too. Evan most of all."

Just a guy. A regular guy fighting demons with a sword, hoping to win. Yeah. Sounds about right.

[blitzcheer]

The metaphors do work, for what it's worth. Clicking with him, aligning with his own life's examples - literally, even, making the jump between the two stages. But Tidus isn't about to get lost in that, the familiarity in the language Roland is using. Rather, he listens to what Roland is saying; appears to be opening up, or what it seems like. The day is idling about them, a constant murmur making the buzzing of background noise.

He speaks softly but fond, more understanding than letting through concern.

"Demons got you spooked?" There's something anyway, rattling around in Roland's mind. Tidus can't think it's this mission specifically, some kind of stand out about the rest. They've had missions like this before. Tidus knows it, by the way he feels his mind and body numbing, just doing and being than anything else. A dull weight in his head that won't lift, knowing that soon the fighting will begin again.

His eyes lower, a piece of something or other at a his feet. Half a split twig it turns out when he picks it up, twists it between his fingers to fiddle with.

"We're all just a bunch of guys," he gives - not the same push or energy as he was giving before, but a truth that Tidus sees. "Sure, some of us are stronger than others, know more about fighting, about doing this kind of thing. But we're all just...all of us, we're trying to survive this. We don't know what we're doing - we just do it. On the train and off. We weren't prepared for this."

Wasn't that the problem? Since day one, since the time any of them show up on the platforms.

[adregem]

"That's putting it lightly." He says, straight-faced. Normally one to deny his feelings out loud, but he's talking to Tidus and there's no pretending when it came to those who know him a bit too well already. "Never was a fan of horror movies."

But that's just as much a joke as the truth rings loud and clear; Roland's not a fan of feeling like he can't do the job right. He is a man of roles, a man of duty. And when that's hindered because of one reason or another, it sets him off. Puts him on edge. Or worse, makes him prone to make mistakes.

What if it cost another life? Oh, he's been that road plenty now. It's not something he's keen on experiencing any time soon, not in the waking world at least. But Roland isn't bothered to the point of not moving, or staying still. He's far from being incapacitated, instead inspired to do more, perhaps to overcompensate for weaknesses he sees. Harsh on himself, his worst critic. The twig makes a snapping sound that pulls his attention, staring at it while it twirls against Tidus's fingers.

Rannygazoo twirls his hands along with its rhythm. Roland, meanwhile, listens. Sympathizes. Is glad to hear a hero like Tidus, a guy who could come straight out of a storybook himself, admits these things freely to Roland too. But apart from that -

We weren't prepared for this. He sighs, at last. Exasperated, almost.

"I wish we were." Roland modulates, staring at his higgledy, at his lap, at the ground. Thinking deep as he talks. "Then maybe if we had the training to deal with everything thrown our way, it wouldn't be this messy for anyone. We could save more people. We'd be more equipped to deal with every single world we have to help."

And I wouldn't have to be some guy. I could be of more use.

"But there's no such thing as a void missionary crash course, is there? So we make do with what we've got, and hope that's enough. I'm not complaining, but I won't deny wanting to get stronger at this stuff either."

[blitzcheer]

Roland is voicing out a fantasy. Everything he's talking about to be a better man - it's not that it doesn't sit right with Tidus, but more, that it sits uneven. Trying to make a chair out cupboard; trying to fit in pieces out of place. Trying to say that Roland should make himself better for his situation. It's not giving in, Tidus knows, but he's staring at the worn bit of twig than Roland as he speaks, scraping to peel at the bark.

"What about books?" It's not the answer he wants to give - that presses against his throat as he speaks over it. 'You shouldn't have to learn anything.' It grows wider in his throat, but even so- "...the missions change every time. Wouldn't you just need books about strategy? --I don't know."

I don't know. There's an edge to it, not so sharp, but that sounds all the same. Riding between wanting to start something, and not.

Instead:

"I'm still leaving the letters. I've been trying the radio."

He says it, not sure what he's aiming for. To let Roland know, and what - to make some point? It feels like the tiniest hope right now, as if he's admitting to putting on a show, and it bothers him to say. But it's also his hope - his tiny little hope, his anger given some outlet, that something better can happen - that he doesn't want to let go of. He won't.

[adregem]

In another time, in another place, Roland would have scoffed at the plan. Would have discouraged Tidus about running the errands of fools; that after everything they know now about their captors, what good would exposing themselves do a second time around?

But he has changed since Nion. He has changed since he realized there is nothing to gain if he keeps himself from taking leaps and bounds into the unknown. Roland listens, takes a look at his hands more dirtied and calloused than ever before. Hiding, darting around the truth. The whip of a monster against his back and the blood that gushes forth painting his perception in a different shade of danger.

He's just a man, just a man...

So what has safety done for Roland in the end? Poor performance on the battlefield and then some. He would sooner endanger the rest of the train just being incompetent than the danger of the train collapsing into itself as his mind pretends is reality.

Yes, he supposes it would have been nice to be Roland in another time, another place, erring the side of caution and being rewarded for it. Now is not the time for any sort of cowardice, though. And whatever it is Tidus expects him to say, Roland doesn't. Instead, the man beside Tidus nods, as if proud. As if seeing things for the first time.

"Good." He answers, modulated and sure. "I'm glad you're still on top of it. I certainly have been lax about that promise. And for that, I apologize." For letting you down.

He has had enough of the lull, meeting Tidus's eye with some fire behind his own conviction, the higgledy on his leg staring at the space between their gaze. "If the ministry ever does catch up...We might even have a chance at asking them to untether us themselves. If we can appeal to their good graces. Be their agents, train under more experienced missionaries who know how to handle the fantastical better than we ever could."

His words, his tone, no what is he saying? It should be clear, even if he doesn't spell it out. The straight-edge of his brow as he breaks, looking around them as people bustle back and forth, trying to create harmony out of hell. Roland knows what he has to do. It's only unfortunate that he comes to the conclusion because of circumstances like this.

[blitzcheer]

The apology spoken doesn't give him relief. Or does it? There's a tightness under his ribcage, a lump that's been growing there, becoming larger every time he has reason to think about it. It's not the apology itself, but something more than his mind or heart could ever give words to, though he's filled with plenty, this growing agitation that rises and fall constantly, never finding its release.

Desperate. He always feels so desperate these days.

And now -- Tidus wants to speak from his heart against the road that takes them under a better captive situation. That's what it sounds like to him, and maybe that's the best they can hope for in this endless void that offers them nothing but the confusion outside their walls. He's reminded of the tiny island vacation, briefly; the two of them with Bambosh, a fire between them burning an incredible heat, the night that set them on this road of hoping for an escape outside of their own hands.

Months have passed since then. Months that have changed them, little and then large. Tidus's eyes are ready to meet Roland's when he looks back, his brow stitched and complicated, mouth a thin line.

"Do you wanna stay? Go out in the void, help people?"

His tone is even, if still quiet. Audible, but not with his usual spark behind it.

[adregem]

"I want to choose."

He fans the spark himself, his fists gripping his pant leg tightly. Wound up, his grimace almost marking such a young looking face almost permanently with the force of his reply. Tidus will not know it but it has weighed heavily on him since Roland saw the truth with his own two eyes.

And now, on Erda where he has felt smaller than he's ever felt before...

His nostrils flair with frustration, a voice turned even more sharp-edged, dangerously quiet. "I want to decide that for myself." He adds after half a breath, the narrowing of his eyes the only reflection of a man torn between playing the role of a hero and playing the role of Roland, master of his own destiny. He says it out loud, context laying low between the message and the words he speaks. "Is that too much to ask?"

Calm.

He closes his eyes again, but now his breaths grow shaky with emotion. Pent up. Born anew. It's funny how much small moments play such a big role when it counts. How many times he's seen himself fold under the pressure of his own belief, his own conviction morphing into something unrecognizable yet necessary.

Tidus deserves to hear it from him at least.

"Screw it." He curses. Rarely, does he ever, perhaps never at all. But look around a second time, folding his arms back against his chest to hide the shakes in his nerves, he has no other choice but to let it all go. "Screw the risks. I should have known I can't just rely on that to get us through. All of this...If it's not the train's tethering we're worrying about, it's the missions risking everyone's life."

Metamorphosis.

"Everything is a risk, isn't it? But you can't have the reward at the end of the line if we don't take them."

If Tidus is unsure of whether he should be staring at brown eyes so full of resolution, Roland won't care to look away anyway. In this, he will take back what is his and only his to command.

"I'm in. Tell me how to help you again."

Who would Roland be if not for just a man, already used to coming back to life very single time?

[blitzcheer]

There's a moment where Tidus worries on the direction this will go. It wouldn't be the first time they've clashed, events that have turned their worlds upside down and their attempts to grab and find a handle on it, decide what they can take before reaching a breaking point. The void visible through the garden carriage walls, Tidus struggling between wanting to fight and being helpless, pushing and pulling at Roland, but stuck in place himself.

'I want to choose.'

But hasn't that been what they've always wanted, ultimately? A choice. The ability to choose. Roland's resolution is stronger than Tidus knows what to deal with, numbed by the intense days before them, even on that very same. He swallows against his indecisions, the embers that hesitate in the face of Roland's flame. What was the point that he spoke about trying to contact someone in the first place? To make a point. To not give up. Not matter how useless, how matter how little.

"I don't have anything better," he admits, voice a little thicker, eyes down at his legs. "I just have the envelopes and taking pictures. If we wanna leave signals around, something electronic, you're gonna need to ask someone else. I don't know what to look for." What to ask for even, but it's been on his mind, and he'll ramble if he needs to. The pitch in his voice climbing, or at least the speed.

The twig drops from his fingers as he opens the palm of his left hand, the void radio appearing in it. "It's been beeping, but I can't listen to it. I haven't had time. There's-- that girl. Science-y. She might know some things. Trapta, I think. You want better tools for a fight? I'll help you buy them. Ask the people around. One thing's for sure, we're gonna need more of the bread."

A mish-mash of points, of keeping themselves safe, of reaching out into the unknown. Tidus knows that neither is wrong: they need to fight, for themselves and for others.

[adregem]

Roland doesn't speak, opting to listen to the words Tidus doesn't say in lieu of what he rambles on like bullets being drawn one after the other. Details passing through like a mist but not quite settling down where it should.

I don't have anything better.

But that's not quite true, not to Roland. Tidus has always had a strong desire to take this train somewhere very few people think about, and that's out of the void entirely. To halt the train on its final platform so that those who could leave finally have the chance to return to lives lost and taken from them.

Who was it that kept going, even after knowing what the train has done to them all without their knowledge; without their consent? Who was it that stopped Roland from panicking over a void radio in Senku's hands without his SCA strapped to his wrist; the same instrument in his hand now, where Roland rests his gaze upon and wonders if he should take.

Was it a burden? Did Tidus feel like this wasn't enough? When he's done more about their predicament than Roland himself; too busy pretending, too busy wondering and hoping through books and leaflets and paperwork that doesn't matter.

'You're not a president on this train, you know.'

What else does he know but that? To be the guy who taught and guided and played along with roles handed to him; nod without question, do the deed and hope the reward follows-through?

Roland opens his left hand, palm up, his knuckles resting on his leg. A silent gesture to let him have it for now, trust him to do the job that might be too heavy for someone to do alone. And in the first place, he shouldn't have abandoned him to the task because he was scared of losing people again. That night on that island, on that beach, didn't they both will it? Shared a part of their stories that pushed them to send messages across seas, messages for loved ones they could no longer speak to? Touch or hold? Of fathers and sons who were so beyond the horizon, no stormy sea could drift bottles where they needed to go...

To reach even when they're stuck on a craft designed to violate space and time itself.

If the radio is handed to him, or if it lingers in between the gap of their seats, Roland doesn't quite mind. Doesn't rush, speaks hushed and serious, wanting him to know his sincerity too. It's easy to say what he means, honestly, when they've been through what they have.

"You do more for us than you give yourself credit for." Roland says, softly-spoken yet sure as any. "It's okay. To not have the answers. To not know what to do. We didn't get a guide book. There's no one around to tell us what's right, what's foolish."

He wishes he could take his own advice, but it's never applied to men like him and it never will. That's not his role in life to play. That's not his decision.

"But if it comes down to it, I can't do...this," he gestures to the void radio, to what it signifies, to what it means. "Alone. Nobody can. I'm sorry if it ever felt that way."

If it felt like you were the only one who wanted to go home. I can't do this without you, either.

The bustle of camp around them feels louder than it did before. Or maybe that's not volume Roland hears ringing in his ears, but the deafening silence of nothing else mattering but a renewed resolution come back to life.

[blitzcheer]

Tidus passes over the radio without delay, better in Roland's hands than his. It helps some, even - not to be the one holding it, scrambling to work his search for answers while he fought for a world he didn't really know. A job that was rewarding, if not entirely in the way it should be. Fighting to help, but fighting because that was his job, a designated hero by the Voidtrecker. Here one day, gone the next.

Would he be next soon? His hands sit empty, arms pulled back to rest on his knees. But Roland continues to speak and he looks over to him, a gaze that doesn't hold as he goes on. He's always been so easy to read, hasn't he? The reassurances not exactly hitting the mark, but it meets the board regardless.

What if this is useless? What if it's all useless?

"It's fine." He shrugs one-shouldered, a tip of his head. The reassurance light and casual. "I started again after Romeo lost his god. You knew 'bout her?" He looks at Roland for a brief confirmation, goes on regardless. "He was sad, and I was just...tired. I wanted anything." Hah- "We always wanted anything, didn't we?"

The reason they started, tried. Roland's messages in a bottle, for his family and for whoever else. The ministry, but even that didn't matter. Not to Tidus. Better the ministry just to light a fire under the train's tracks, but if anything else could reach them, then let them come.

"Now Lord Gyousou's gone, Nita... and you know, the train isn't even the only thing doing this. Taking people from other worlds, telling them what to do."

What if it is useless--

He looks nowhere, gaze drifting, searching for something deeper in him. What he's trying to say, but what says it better than the obvious, the already said, Tidus looking back at Roland, pulling his mouth into more of a line than smile. Kicking out a leg, knocking at the dirt with the back of his heel.

"I just want us to go home." Plain and simple. "I hate being treated like...cargo."

Ugh.

[adregem]

Roland nods back, knowing precisely all the people Tidus lists down. "Elfnein. Yeah. Romeo and I made bookmarks in her name." And he told him about the book he was writing, something he hasn't even told Tidus or Inigo...The book of his life, as long as the pages will allow him. The names that follow hit close to home too. Taiki losing his King, Nita who was the train's strongest advocate, speaking to it every time something went wrong. His last memory of her sitting down by the Engine Room, thinking in silence, watching her read until she could fall asleep.

There was so much of this they couldn't control. He didn't even want to think about how selfish the thought of watching either of them go, both boys too important for him to part ways without a reassurance of ever seeing them in this lifetime, or in the next. It's selfish too, that he gives them higgledy heroes to keep close to their hearts, so that if and when the time came...he could maybe, perchance, find them in the multiverse that Roland is sure exists. The multiple versions of two worlds that beat with one heart; the same kind the Conductor told him.

It's not in his nature to give up, even in the face of this constant madness. Not even if all the void radio gives them is eerie silence and static that barely comes across as anything important. He takes it and it disappears into his Arms Band for now, not thinking about it too much.

Instead...Instead he turns to Tidus and lifts his hand after a leg barely grazes Roland's own; rests his warm palm over his hair and ruffles it kindly, even if he meets resistance. He smiles. A real one this time, regardless of the doubts that never linger too far from his heart.

"We will."

Wherever home might be for all of them. By each other's side, reunited somehow, or to meet their fates one by one. Worlds torn asunder, or repaired at long last.

Roland chuckles after his hand drops back down to his lap, getting ready to stand up again.

"At least we're VIP. Or should it be, VIC? Heh." Very Important Cargo! He cracks himself up every time.

[blitzcheer]

He's conflicted, a contradiction: stuck between a hope that Gibbers inside his heart does to make louder, and the same anger and frustration that pushed him to pick up the letters again being muddled by the recent losses. Always saying, there's a way, we've got to try! -- but what do they have to show for it? Tidus wants to hope, to be a man who can shape his own destiny - but it gets tiring. Despair wants to trickle in, take refuge in the spots where he falters.

Patience. It's always about having patience. Yeah, like he's any good at that...

But his body loosens some. To complain, maybe just to talk and get it out. Not paying attention to the assault that comes his way, a hand messing hair already collecting dirt and grime from the long days. Resistance comes too late once the hand retreats, knows to, with Tidus making a face all pinched and bunched up, pouting scowling at Roland.

"Your jokes suck," he grumps, arms folding, weariness sitting under the eyes that he turns away for optimal sulk. And if Roland stands, Tidus won't stop him, though he does think to repeat once he is on his feet, gaze returning: "You should talk to that girl. About technology? I think she made a scanner back on the train. I'll buy in anything she wants. And..."

He moves a hand, gesturing to the camp. "Can you take some pictures? I can too."

[adregem]

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

What did Roland answer with such a response? That his joke sucks, or that he'll do his part to take pictures? Perhaps its both. Perhaps it doesn't matter. He does end up standing, dusting himself off by patting his trousers, his knees. Rannygazoo does a twirl for Tidus before waddling behind Roland's feet, quiet and still until his human starts to walk a little ways away at last.

Roland doesn't leave just yet, turning around with a hand on his hip. "It's Entrapta, by the by. And don't worry. We're in touch already. I'll let you know if she needs anything I can't afford on the shop. Thanks for the radio."

He waves once, fingers to his temple in the salute Tidus has watched him perform so many times over; but there is a hesitation that follows. Roland stops, almost knocking over Rannygazoo who doesn't halt in time to hit himself against his boot, and turns back around. He watches Tidus silently. It almost seems like there's something Roland wants to say.

In the end, no words come tumbling out of his lips. He just shakes his head, the smile on his face more melancholic than joyful, as he repeats the motion of waving once before walking away.

I just want us to go home...

...We will.