middleofsomewhere | What their Eyes See: Start

What their Eyes See: Start

"Good Morning Voidtreckers, today is day five of the month of Llama." 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.

Preperation and Arrival

As usual they have a couple of hours before arrival to ready themselves for the mission ahead. As promised the dressing carriage is open for them to find suitable clothing. Trench coats, a lot of leather, a lot of black with neon colours thrown in here and there. There is a lot of choice in a variety of sizes so everyone is bound to find something to fit. Hopefully something they like, though some passengers may be more comfortable with the fashion choices than others.

A couple of hours after the announcement of the mission the voice speaks again. "Shortly arriving in system #93426194992. Arriving in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one." The train shakes as it leaves the void, colours fading to be replaced to a grey thick smog outside the windows.

The train bumps slightly as it hits rails, snaking its way towards the city before entering a tunnel. A few moments and they come to a stop, the doors open onto a platform. Stepping out into the station the first thing to hit them is noise, it sounds like there are ten different advertisements blaring, someone or something is playing loud music. There's a lot of flashing signs, screens with advertisements, bright lights that change colour for no real apparant reason. Heavy on the senses as they make their way to the gates.

They will find that their SCAs allow them through the barriers and into the wider train station, which is somehow even louder. It is busy as well, people hurrying from place to place. There are signs declaring this to be Tier Three, Home of Manufacturing. as well as signs pointing the way to lifts, to take them to other tiers.

Tier One

Mapping

For those travelling up to tier one the first thing they will notice when they leave the lift is, it is a lot quieter up here. Peaceful even, there are people around, all looking official and busy. None will pay the Voidtreckers any mind unless they are acting particularly suspicious.

The air feels better here, probably because the whole tier is encased with a dome that they will be able to see as they enter, coming from a lift near the edge of the tier. The buildings are all harsh dark metal, almost uniform in design. The streets are clean and there has been an attempt at greenery with some shrubs and simple plants.

The buildings all need to be accessed using their SCA's. Their SCA maps show them where the buildings are but give no information about them, nor do they have maps of inside. Once the voidtreckers enter they will find that their maps fill in as they explore.

There are plenty of different buildings, offices, labs and meeting rooms. There are also a lot of security staff and anyone acting too suspiciously will be approached and questioned. Hopefully they have a plan, blend in or sneak around.

Flickers

Sometimes though that is a little harder, they might enter a room to find themselves on their old street, in a world they have visited before on the train or somewhere else that is decidedly not here. These illusions get more common as time goes on and people will begin seeing the illusions of others or find the two scenes merging together.

Voidtreckers who are immune to illusions will not see these strange visions and those who are particularly strong willed will be able to fight them off. Once people know they are illusions they can focus through them to see reality even if it is overlaid with what their minds want to see. It will take a lot of concentration to stay focused and get an accurate map.

Tier Two

A Mystery

The lift here brings them out into a glass covered corridor. Outside the glass the air is thick with smog but the filtration systems means that the air seems fine inside, especially with their SCA's helping out. Outside the tunnels they will be able to see the lights of hovercars zipping around and the silhouettes of buildings. Office blocks and large houses make up this sector. Large billboards blare out advertisements at all hours, neon lights shining through the smog.

The atmosphere of the sector is one of fear, people hurry about their business, keeping an wary eye on their surroundings. The newcomers won't get too much scrutiny but people are likely to be very wary if approached or questioned.

But they will talk once they guage them to not be a threat. Murders. Six people dead, from inside their own houses. Locked doors, security systems, all for nothing. Is it a serial killer? But the reports suggested an animal attack? From what animals?

Getting access to the houses will take some negotiating or breaking and entering. The bodies themselves have been cleared by law enforcement, caution tape still up to keep out any nosy public.

The rooms the bodies were found in were all rooms that used holograms as decoration and the voidtreckers will realise when they enter them that these holograms seem a lot more realistic than some of the others they might have seen in their stay in the sector so far.

Creatures

As they talk to people, or overhear gossip they will hear more about animal attacks. Someone swears they saw a lion prowling the streets. A hovercar crashed and the driver swore they had been attacked by an eagle. Neither of those creatures live in the city. Neither of those creatures exist on this world anymore.

But the Voidtreckers will quickly learn there is something to these rumours, especially as dark falls, the feeling they are being hunted. A paw tread, a tail disappearing around a corner. As days go on they may get attacked by a bear, a tiger or perhaps a creature from their own world, one that should not exist here at all...

Tier Three

A Crisis

Leaving the station brings them into crowded streets, air thick with smog, Up above them is the floor of the plate above, set with bright lights to offset the lack of natural light getting through. Billboards and screens blare advertisements, traders yell their wares. Life is fast and swirls around them as they step out into the streets.

Here also there is an air of worry. The talk is all of Spectura, kids unconcious after playing video games, hospital overflowing. Spectura's fault, there are calls for accountability, claims of sabotage. No person gives the same story and it becomes clear that most people don't know what has happened but almost everyone knows someone who has been affected. Fear, blame, tensions are high.

But life must go on, the factories never stop, people can't not work and with so many people unconscious people have to pick up the slack. The whole sector feels at breaking point.

If they try and buy Spectura systems they will not be stopped though they will need to sign a waiver, to take on all responsibility for what might happen to them if they go into the system.

Spectura

There are a whole range of games to look through, though the two most popular ones where the majority of players can be found are an open-world farming MMO called AgriTopia VI Ultimate, with bright landscapes and calming diegetic music, and Aegis Force, a tournament team shooter with short battle scenarios and smaller maps.

Those entering the system will fall unconscious in the real world and as they enter the problem will be pretty obvious straight away. Red vines, covering everything, tangling trees, creeping up buildings, coming straight for them to attack.

Anyone who gets overwhelmed by them will be stuck, unable to move or progress. It is possible to fight them off and for those voidtreckers who have faced the vines before they will find their soothing powers will work here as well.

People are tangled throughout many different games and once they are freed will need some help to find the next save point or exit. They need to help plant the final hundred potatoes, or team up to take down the level boss or solve the next puzzle, keep the vines away and free as many people as they can.

Tier Four

A Way In

As they leave the lifts they will find this tier is dark, dim lighting barely penetrating the smog. Homes are makeshift and all on top of each other. The streets are crowded, loud and people don't stop to chat. It is incredibly claustrophobic, with large support columns, exposed wires and large pipes running alongside and over the 'roads'.

Here there are plenty of stores selling anything and everything, certainly not above board. Credits are sometimes accepted but more often store keepers will prefer to trade in barters, food is popular. Anything that isn't nutri slime or the even worse unbranded basic version.

Bars and other seedy establishments are open all hours, neon signs beckoning. It is here that they will find the entry points to the fighting rings.

People don't talk about it openly but you look big enough, mean enough or dramatic enough then it will be slipped into conversation. Have you heard? Winners get a dream come true.

The fights are a mix of one on one and group fights. All terms are negotiated before hand with an overseer and fights are to the yield. The crowd wants a show and so dramatics are encouraged.

What was that?

The rumours about people going berserk are spoken in whispers. No one really knows what has gone on. A few fights have gotten out of control, a couple of fighters broke down after fights, at least one has quit for good. Most spoken about is The Crimson Fist. The best fighter in the ring who two days prior just left. Left the city with no protective gear, no word to anyone. No one knows what happened to them.

As the voidtreckers get further into their fights they will begin to realise something strange is going on. That opponent you are facing? They now look like your worst enemy, or perhaps your best friend, your lover. Sometimes you're no longer in the city but in a place of fond memories or your worst nightmares. Fights can very quickly go south when your opponent believes you their greatest foe.

Advancing the ranks now seems like it might be more difficult than first it appeared.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Already, he's made progress in terms of recovery. Talking with Even has certainly helped, these past few days, but as much as he's lost...there's steps of reclamation. He recalls Even, now, at least, and remembers working with him, talking with him, even laughing, once in a rare moment- but others are still ghosts to him. Nonetheless, he's optimistic, even as this mission takes their focus.

He's finished preparing for rest when Even asks for his help. And while he is weary from the day's progress, a 'hm?' confirms Even has his attention, and then, "How can I help?" follows.

He reaches into a pocket in his robe and retrieves a bottle of moisturizing lotion from his inventory. It's a fairly large one, it seems he goes through a lot of it.

"I have sustained...severe burn injuries that, while they are fully healed, continue to present complications. I can handle much of the treatment by myself, but there are significant areas of my back that I can neither see nor effectively reach to tend to."

Curious. "I see." Even magic has its limits, he reflects. "Well, then, if you're comfortable with me assisting- I would be happy to assist."

It could explain the occasional stiffness he's observed in Even's movements- though he's never remarked on such.

"I warn you, they are...not pleasant to look upon."

He stands up and takes a breath, unable to help feeling nervous about Ansem's possible reaction to the sight of his ruined skin, then turns so his back is facing his mentor and sheds his robe. The skin beneath it, from shoulders to hips and extending halfway down to his elbows, is a mess of mottled and blotchy scar tissue. 'Severe' was an understatement, as it's clear from even the healed remains that most of the skin on his torso had been burned away, and it was only due to healing magic that it's back at all, even disfigured. What isn't clear is how he even managed to survive such extensive injuries.

Beyond that, his shoulders and arms are much more muscular than they ever were during his time as an apprentice, but he seems to be distinctly lacking in body fat. Though not dangerously emaciated, it looks as though he's still not remembering to eat quite as often as he should.

By the light.

That- is beyond what Ansem expected, and the sharp intake of breath confirms his surprise as he gazes upon it. Whatever wounds they were- this looks beyond even what he thought magic could heal. This looks, in a word?

Fatal.

"Oh." It escapes him without thinking; a sound of marvel, of grief, astonishment- many others. No wonder Even has such trouble, with the tissue, and yet...

If the ointment helps, then Ansem can do no less than assist him. For all that there is still a memory of betrayal, any lingering worry or concern attached to such has faded at the mere sight of these injuries, and Ansem approaches a moment later as he clears his throat.

"My apologies, I did not- expect. That level of severity. This won't hurt you?..."

"I am unsurprised. A full explanation will be easier once you have recovered more of your memories, however."

Idly, he reaches up to rub at his shoulder, massaging the stiff tissue in an effort to soften it up.

"Some amount of pressure actually makes it easier for me to stretch without pain. The scar tissue is quick to become inflexible otherwise."

"I can imagine." There's still more missing than not, but more context would certainly be nice. Whatever Even cares to share- he's immensely curious, and Even does seem willing to talk about it, but- some matters are private, and he respects that. Until that time comes, though, he's tracing light fingers along the tissue before beginning the task literally at hand.

(At least the ointment doesn't have an unpleasant odor.)

"How often do you have this administered?" he asks as he works, trying to gauge Even's reaction to the pressure. It's clear he's reluctant to use too much force, but- if some helps, then it helps.

He tenses briefly at the light touch, not out of pain, but simply because of how utterly personal it feels, compared to the way they always had a certain wall of professionalism between them before. The increase in pressure, at least, doesn't seem to bother him.

"Ideally, several times a day, and particularly after bathing or swimming."

"'Ideally'," Ansem echoes, a suspicion sneaking in. "And how often, in actuality?"

It does feel strange, doing this, but- not unbearably so. If nothing else, the feeling that Even has been avoiding something he shouldn't...that is familiar. In different circumstances, perhaps, but. Familiar. Not that he gets the feeling Even shirked his work; quite the opposite. Devoting himself to it above all else...even himself.

The awkward clear of his throat ought to confirm that suspicion, even with him continuing to look away.

"For the areas I cannot reach on my own...typically once or twice. Otherwise, I generally keep up with the recommended frequency."

"Even."

That's probably familiar to Even himself; that not-quite-exasperation, not-quite-disappointment. If there ever was a sign that Ansem is starting to feel like his old self, well, there's one of them; Even has definitely heard that tone more than once, though it's been some time.

"Dare I ask why you haven't asked for help before this?"

Edited 2021-05-10 23:13 (UTC)

That is indeed familiar, and...nostalgic, in a way. It hearkens back to simpler times, when their so-called conflicts were primarily over mutual concern.

"I was...reluctant to broach the subject, and its implications, while you still struggle with your memory. These scars are, in part, a consequence of my own horrid actions, and should not take priority over your recovery and adjustment."

"I am not the only one who could have helped you with these, and I am certain you have had them for some time. Enough for them to possibly worsen from lack of care!" There's a squeeze on the shoulder- not necessarily meant to be painful, just for emphasis. "If you have been doing such out of guilt, allow me to be the first to call your behavior foolish."

Yes, he knows Even has committed atrocities - but he also understands that there were circumstances. Perhaps he does not fully understand those, but there is more, here, than just a single person's conscious choices.

He gives an almost petulant sounding huff, with a matching crossing of his arms.

"I have not been neglecting them utterly, they are in my record in the medical car."

He had, at least, agreed to a physical. Granted, there was still a lot no one knew about Nobody health and physiology, but...that's a research project.

"Not utterly, perhaps, but Even-" Is it time for a low blow? A test, perhaps, but- yes. "If I was the one to have suffered these injuries and I told you the same - what would be your response?"

"I-" His voice catches, and he sighs, shoulders drooping as he visibly deflates. "Given my own experience, and the betrayal I participated in dealing to you, I would fear that you found it difficult to trust others at your back. I would certainly want to insist upon seeing your injuries tended to, but there is quite a difference in our situations."

"That..." he sighs. That is not what he meant, but his lips twist bitterly as he mulls over the words. "You seem to be implying you have all the less reason to avoid this."

This being hands at his back, still dutifully working in the ointment.

"You are not someone I could so easily turn aside. A certain few have had my trust since well before Xehanort's arrival, and no amount of treachery from others will undermine that."

Even if he has learned of betrayal from one...and even if he had trusted Xehanort, as well. He refuses to let himself doubt the natures of the rest who were practically family to him.

"And if I may be blunt, should you wish to take this as an opportunity to retaliate for the harm I have dealt you...I have doubts that you could currently inflict anything so severe that I would not consider it fair recompense."

For a moment, Ansem's hands still. His fingers curl in to very loose fists- but the breath he lets out is weary. "If I may be blunt in return," he responds, "I have lost my taste for revenge. And I think, merely the sight of this, knowing what you must have suffered- any ire I could have held towards you has fled."

A hand moves to Even's shoulder. This time, to ensure he has the man's attention, as his tone softens.

"If it is a matter of trust, Even, than I would like to see you at least once a day to help with this. I all but insist on it." Lips quirk in to a bittersweet smile. "Talking with you, as it is, has already helped my reawaken my memories from their sleep. Certainly, more conversation would not hurt."

The fact that he's lost his taste for revenge implies he used to have it...which makes him think back to Ansem's comment about needing to atone for what he did to Roxas and Namine. Both had been manipulated into aiding the Organization, had Ansem treated the children as accomplices of Xehanort? It's an ugly thought, and not one he intends to bring up in this moment.

In this moment, he tilts his head slightly forward, though he knows Ansem can't see his expression.

"If you don't consider it an imposition, there are none here that I would be more comfortable asking assistance from."

"Hardly. And so, we shall consider this settled," he concludes, smile and tone as well less bittersweet, regaining some of their usual warmth. "If it would be easy, we can even set up a regular time so that it can adhere to whatever schedule you have; as it stands, simply when we have time in the morning and evening will do for now."

Don't mind him making the decision for you in that regard. Twice a day it is, at least while they're on the mission.

"My schedule may be...erratic, while we are here. I have already had cause to visit the second tier of the city - I am certain you heard the mention of illusions down there as well, yes?"

There's a slight curtness to his tone, though it's not directed at Ansem. While he is fully capable of defending himself these days, he's not enthused about having had to directly engage hostile creatures to get his information.

"...I have. Though I had hoped they were constrained to one area." He lets out a slow breath. "I will admit that I was taken in by some of the ones, here- and I know others were as well. If it is more widespread..."

Frustrated? Concerned? Both.

"I was, as well. Some of them struck at...intensely painful memories."

He presses the fingers of one hand to the center of his chest, directly over his budding fragment of a heart.

"The ones on the second tier were created using the same methods, a combination of magic and something I cannot identify. Even the apparent beasts plaguing the citizens are nothing more than tangible illusions."

"Then, clearly we must find and stop it at the source."

'We' general; not necessarily just the two of them. Ansem knows he's limited, to say the least, and he's in no hurry to test those limits. From what he's seen, the other passengers are quite capable of holding their own, and he finds himself believing in them even though he's only arrived so recently.

What their Eyes See: Start

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CW: vague description of horrific burn injuries

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