What their Eyes See: Finale

[voidtreckermods]

It’s been a weird mission. The Voidtreckers have been busy investigating, making headway in mapping and saving citizens from the video games and strange illusionary creatures. Those in the fourth tier have made contacts, followed leads and gotten close to the high and mighty of the criminal underworld.

Yet what exactly is happening here is still unknown. Their new found ally Anan is as stumped as the rest of them, but even so, the hackers and technological knowledgeable voidtreckers have been successful in isolating the virus to study and make an anti-virus. A netpoint network has been set up across the city, and enough access data stolen that they can start throwing everything into the systems and networks across the city.

While the illusions remain a mystery and how they got there, finally the world is purged of the strange virus as the anomalies begin to clear up by noon of day ten. Spectura victims wake up in hospital beds, dazed and confused, while no more sightings of the impossible plague those on the other tiers.


On the morning of day eleven, the once housebound and terrified citizens leave their shelters with the first tendrils of light reaching through the fog surrounding the enclosed city. An exodus of people, from fighters of tier four to elites of tier one, are making their way into the streets...and heading down into lifts and outside, out into the smog-filled wasteland.

“It’s so beautiful,” is heard, a rumbling through the crowd as people smile, laugh or wave into the fog.

”I won.” Fighters from tier four look around in wonderment. Other exclamations, about a blue sky, a greeting to a friend fill the air.

There is a pull. The voidtreckers will feel it too, though to them the world looks and feels no different. This pull is easy to resist, or they can follow and investigate it, attempt to lead citizens back inside the city. It’s not safe in the smog, no one has canisters, but none will heed the warnings.

Nor is there time for better efforts when a crackling sounds in the air, light and colours flashing in the smog, everywhere at once and too quick to get a hold on.

“STOP THWARTING ME!” booms out, and a great force pushes them back while pulling the citizens farther into the wasteland, sand and dirt kicked up in a frenzied storm. The voidtreckers can hear the civilians in the smog, but getting to them will prove harder than they may like.

Grabbing an air canister is highly recommended for those who prefer life.



CIRCLE ONE: THE MAZE
No matter where one leaves the city from, they will find themselves in a maze of walls, of metal sheets, each blending into each other. It feels surreal, as if nothing is quite real, nothing quite solid.

But it is solid. For those voidtreckers who cannot see illusions it will look like they are merely stood in the wasteland of the world. But when they begin to move they will learn those walls are tangible, and those that look close enough will see the same almost-light as the creatures that purple team have been fighting as the source.

For those who are not immune to illusions it is a strange place indeed. No smog to be seen, just high unyielding barriers. The pathways are different colours giving off hues of brightest pink, red, purple, neon green, glowing white, darkest black. Sometimes there are symbols on the walls, Capsule Corp, royal insignia, ravager flames, HYDRA, marks of royalty. They are emblazoned on the walls, the floor, sometimes even in the sky. And the deeper in they get...

➤ WINDING ROADS
It's noisy as they move around. As well as the distant noise of the citizens in the distance they can hear an acoustic guitar, erratic piano playing, the sound of bamboo on stone. Or perhaps an eagles cry, a lullaby or a song is heard as they move their way through the maze.

Objects stand in their way, blocking paths and needing to be moved or destroyed. Larger than life playing cards, red apples, flowers. Spears and daggers hang in the air as does the moon and the sun. Water often cascades through routes, making it difficult to move through or fire creeps up walls, nonthreatening but ever present. There are clouds of butterflies and ravens perched on walls, watching their every move, and the smell of sugar often hangs in the air.

But it’s better to navigate these turbulent passages with perseverance than violence. Daggers and apples will shatter and slice apart to attacks, creating a way through to begin with - but those that try the method of destruction to solve their problems will find these walls crowding them tighter, rising higher, becoming all the harder to destroy than they were before. They will become trapped, and will need assistance from the outside to untangle them from webs or jails made from crystal.
➤ STALKING THE STREETS
It isn’t just the Voidtreckers or locals who wander the maze. Wolves, dogs, zombie sheep and ghost animals mostly mind their own business, sometimes inclined to growl or bahh, but easy to pass. But other times, you may sense that you’re being followed, a presence hovering over you...while another companion will see as well the large shadow shrouding you before a decaying hand grabs at you from above, threatening to send its victim to some other part of the maze if not stopped.

Monsters also stalk these paths from various realities. The dead will be met in robes of white while others in armours from medieval times. All are fast, unrelenting in their attacks, unconcerned with pain or stopping without being properly slain. Ghouls of all shapes and sizes search for prey, and many more seek victims.

How they act and how to defeat them may be known to some, but not all. Is it worth the effort to stay and fight illusions, however? Sometimes those illusions don’t give a choice, but in other instances, a person from the city may be found on the ground unconscious, the smog air getting to them. They’ll need help, and fast.

CIRCLE TWO: IS THIS HOME?
Voidtreckers will realise they’ve left the maze when they find themselves in an open field. It spreads out far with vineyards in the distance, a campsite, all of this leading into a forest of childrens board games. While the campsite is not a true campsite as many will realise, it is the first moment everyone will have to come together, to perhaps plan ahead. Air canisters are essential in this environment, and locals have been found needing, unconscious. Backtracking through the maze is a death wish for many, but with the talents of the voidtreckers, setting up a checkpoint here may not be that impossible before going on ahead.

And then, when they finally do…

➤ FAMILIAR
It is almost dream-like as they walk, areas changing without them fully crossing the distance needed. One moment they are in a shopping malls food court, the next the interior of a spaceship; streets of palaces, temples, and mansions line up as a mish-mash of glamour, while others offer more humble abodes, taverns, family homes, bakeries. Medieval structures blend into tech bases, maintenance bays and dark rooms. Beautiful gardens, beaches and dusty souks all share space. But as they move through it, they will be tempted towards what is theirs.

And these can be anything. Ships, palaces, home, and even singular rooms: all of these are seen, doors providing access, doors that draw your character towards it, as if they know what’s on the other side. Spaces personal to the viewer, and with the constant pressure of these illusions, somehow draining to be around, they will find it harder to doubt what they see. Even if their bedroom leads towards a volcano, a blacksmith housing hospital beds right beside it, it will not seem so bizarre to find these natural.
➤ DEARLY BELOVEDS
But it’s not only structures that exist in this labyrinth of streets: there are people, animals - family, friends and pets. Beloved mentors, a smiling loved one. The night sky will wash over, the ocean within view; your favourite plush rabbit, a worn jumper. Your favourite song playing, losing you inside this new reality.

Even people from the Voidtrecker Express are around, whether or not they’re still passengers. Feanor, Zetta, Noctis, Cassie Cage, Jin Ling; Elfnein, Link, Mami, Gyousou, Duo; Senku, Jiang Yanli, Olivia, Bucky Barnes. They walk this plane, friends and lovers of the voidtreckers, coaxing them further into the illusions. Assuring them everything is alright, offering reasons to give in.

Over all this though, they can still hear the citizens in the distance; their voices sounding more confused, frightened even. To push on the voidtreckers must walk away, ignore these temptations and push on to the third ring.

CIRCLE THREE: TWISTED HEART
For those who manage to get through the second circle, pushing away the temptations of home, they will find themselves back in the smog filled wasteland. But through the smog they will see more, always more. Once again the scenery blurs into impossibilities, from testing labs with padded beds, to other imagery associated with asylums of old, to dark cramped spaces, to hallways raging on fire. They sense fear itself, and even the most stoic will find apprehension digging into them as they make their way forward. Is this their fear? Or is it your own?

It may be hard to discern in this twisted reality.

➤ MISERY LOVES COMPANY
This time, as the scenery shifts around them, so does their own sense of self try to match what these places mean. The despair of being lost in darkness, the belief that they can’t be seen by others, all sound fading from their ears. They are on the moon, trapped there for years; at the edge of the vast ocean, on the bank of a river of lava, despair in their hearts. In a wrecked city, their own city destroyed almost beyond recognition. By opposing forces, by weapons of mass destruction.

They have lost everything. There’s no fixing this.

A Pandora box of fears have been unleashed, with seemingly no hope. Your worst enemy has been granted a second chance, family stumbling towards you on the verge of death before your eyes; forces that you were meant to be dealing with back home have found you, surely leaving your own world in ruins, from titans to ayakashis.

Or they might stumble upon a graveyard, stretched out as far as they can see where every name is someone they care about.

There are even voidtreckers of now and old opposing you: Danny Fenton, Lan Xichen, Darth Vader, Vegeta, Xue Yang. Kerry stands pointing a gun straight at a fellow passenger while shadowy ravens and terrifying dragons swirl in the sky.

All this emotional turmoil will do a number on the voidtreckers, but there is strength in numbers. More civilians have fallen unconscious at this point, and those willing to aid them can take them back to the city. But no matter how the voidtreckers move, they must keep their nerve and hold onto hope as they cross the final hurdles.

Comments

[worthallthis]

The Asset squints, misses its goggles again, and settles its rifle more firmly on its shoulder. Maybe there will be something to shoot.

There is something, as they turn a final corner, but it's damn hard to look at, even for it. It attempts to aim anyway.

[morganizedchaos]

There is sure as hell something, alright. That something is pretty goddamn full of itself, and projecting all over the place. The Asset might hear the distorted voice of actual Phantom-speech repeating the "FINE, FINE, FINE," quietly, as though Ghost is repeating the words under his breath.

From the phone, much more clearly, he says, "If there's anyone there to hit by accident, I can't feel them, so just shoot it." It probably won't do anything even if the Asset does hit, but it'll make them feel better. The illusions might not have gotten to Ghost, but this level of psychic presence does, apparently.

[worthallthis]

If the Asset had anything resembling a sense of humor, that might have been funny. Sarge, in the back of its brain, does snort a laugh. The Bottomless Pit coos, as if all that light is somehow cute. (Not cute, but lovely. You are awful, Pit. Seriously.)

Then, because that is an order the Asset is happy to comply with, it fires. Twice, in fact, covering top and bottom of the hard-to-see anomaly. There doesn't appear to be any effect, but it's already fading away, leaving after-images in the Asset's vision.

[morganizedchaos]

It's disappearing, relieving a pressure, and by the time it's gone, Ghost is feeling the drain. The field that was putting out the psychic pressure of the illusions is going with whatever the hell that was.

"It sounds like a pissed off child," Ghost says, in the moment after the whatever it is has left. "Reminds me of Alex." That's not a flattering comparison for either party.

When the light is gone entirely, Ghost slumps into a 'seat,' exhaustion radiating even even if a big spooky alien flopping on its ass in the weirdly ambiguous dust is also vaguely comedic. "I'm going to take five and be a mug," he tells the Asset. "If you could keep an eye out, that'd be great."

And without further ado, he does, in fact, take five to be a mug.

[worthallthis]

The Asset lowers its rifle and stares at... a mug. A mug? It stares some more.

It might have run out of ability to function, because there's no longer anything to shoot. So it stares for another long minute.

At that point Sarge, noting that there are still unconscious people around and they do still have a half-full air canister, and that Soldat is still buried too deeply in their mind to even notice what's going on, bumps the Asset out of the way and heaves a heavy sigh. "Okay. Okay, let's... let's get moving. Ghost, I'm picking you up, okay? You can go in my bag or something until you're ready to be you again."

He has no idea if Ghost can hear him, let alone respond, so he just picks up the mug.

[morganizedchaos]

He sort of can, though he can't really give the thumbs-up in response that he normally would. Being carried is fine, though - it's not too-much the way everything has been too-much for the last week, and it still doesn't require a lot of thinking.

A couple minutes worth of breather, though, and the cup begins to twitch and jostle, a warning of 'hey let me out of here' before Ghost changes shape back into something much larger.

[worthallthis]

Sarge is busily hauling a pair of civilians when this happens and nearly drops both in surprise. "Hey, hey, whoah, hang on a sec, I don't got any free hands--" He manages to juggle the poor sap on his left side to tuck her under his arm instead of over his shoulder, so he can fumble the mug out.

[morganizedchaos]

Once the bag is open, the mug rolls out on its own, at least, and plops out into the dust, unable to roll any further from its small impact crater. After a minute to let Sarge step clear, it untwists in a black blur until it's the shape of a Phantom again.

"Thanks for the carry. You need a hand with those?"

[worthallthis]

"Won't say no to a little help, if you're up to it," Sarge says, feeling kind of ridiculous with two people dangling from his arms, here. It's not like they're heavy, it's just-- awkward. And weird. "There's a lot of people who need getting back to the city. And not all of 'em wake up with a little application of clean air."

[morganizedchaos]

"I'll take that one," Ghost says, stepping up close and leaning down so Sarge can slide one civilian off the metal arm's shoulder and onto the alien one with as little disturbance as possible. Given how heavy the arm must be, the weight should be balanced, ish, afterwards. "Once we get them in, though, I think I'm going to head back to the train. I don't think I'll be able to handle the city again after this goddamn day."

[worthallthis]

"Don't blame you one bit," Sarge says, shifting the weight a little before starting off again. Super-strength means never having to worry about it all that much, but it's still easier to balance. "Hell, I'm not sure I'm gonna handle the city okay again. And I don't hear inside everyone's heads."

[morganizedchaos]

Ghost settles the unconscious body over a shoulder that's hunched and almost broad enough for the person's entire body.

"Pretty much," Ghost agrees. "And I figure I can squeeze in at least an hour or two of reprieve while everyone else takes care of things and comes back in more normal ways."

[worthallthis]

"Yeah, probably. We're all out here still dealing with the civvies, so you probably got a while." Really, unless the train suggests a fast evac, he might walk and take the lifts to the right level and station, and lift some more supply on the way out. With half to two-thirds of the city recovering from this, shops are going to be pretty abandoned, he figures. And Soldat really wanted more clothes to work with.

[morganizedchaos]

You get that loot, Sarge. If Ghost cared much about clothes, he'd probably get a few things too, but fashion is apparently not an aspect of personal presentation he's especially invested in.

"Now that the illusions are gone, the civvies will probably be able to start helping each other, I hope," Ghost says. "Native emergency care moving in and so on, or even just people who give a shit about each other." Even in this place, people like that have to exist.

[worthallthis]

Having something other than "purple train uniform" and "combat uniform" is kind of a big deal to Soldat. Sarge too, for that matter. Plus there's plenty of other people to gift things to.

"Harder to do when a huge contingent of the civvies went out into that mess and are the ones who need help," Sarge adds dryly. "But you're right, it wasn't everybody. There's some actual responsible people left in there, I'm sure. Or people who were asleep when the mind thing happened, maybe." Not that Sarge is particularly blaming them. Soldat fell victim to an illusion, too, and still hasn't come back out. It's been hours.

[morganizedchaos]

"And people who are able to move under their own power will probably also be heading back," Ghost points out. "It's not going to be enough for everyone, it already isn't, but..."

You can't save everyone. That's a lesson Ghost knows all too well, arguably better than he knows the back of his hand. No matter how good you are, you can't save everyone. He just has to try not to dwell on the feeling of someone dying close enough nearby for him to feel.

[worthallthis]

"Good thing it's me here and not Soldat," Sarge mutters. He's better at triage like that. Not a lot better, not like the Asset would be, but still. Better. He'll do what needs doing and feel bad, rather than be pushing himself to try and do everything.

They're inside now, at least, and there's stretchers waiting not far in for the unconscious bodies.