Sydney Opera House, Sydney
10 May, 2011
00:14—Four's Perspective
:-:
The Sydney Opera House: A multi-venue performing arts centre, identified as one of the 20th century's most distinctive buildings.
The building and its surroundings occupy the whole of Bennelong Point in Sydney Harbor, between Sydney Cove and Farm Cove, adjacent to the central business district and the Royal Botanic Gardens, and is close by the Sydney Harbor Bridge… If they had arrived earlier, the Highwaymen might have witnessed a live performance of Georges Bizet's Carmen. Unfortunately, security would have turned them away, so, if they wanted to attend the play, they'd have to sneak in.
"I wonder when this'll all be over." Four presents a statement that emotionally registers with her comrades. From their standpoint, this is a good question:
When *will* the war end? It's hard to say for sure, but, as they observe the mystery of Sydney Harbor, their hearts feel a similar warmth… A precious dream that is shared, pondered and pursued by many.
I'd like to come back here…without feeling like an outcast. Gideonites at every turn, it's a wonder we're able to rest here for a bit… Fortunately, with Babyface out of the picture, Sydney should lighten up in a few weeks.
"There are plenty of ways to end this: Kill the Nightlord, cut down his resources, pick the church off one-by-one, surrender, issue a treaty, the list goes on. But with the way things are between us, nothing will change anytime soon." One says this dejectedly. Perhaps uncried tears, bottled up since…"that night".
"The people will open their eyes, someday.
But who knows? Maybe they already have, and are looking for a way out."
Four responds as if she's trying to convince herself more than her comrades.
A passing wind brushes the harbor, causing its waters to dance and ripple… Unfortunately, this doesn't set well with Two. "—!? This breeze…
Impossible! There's no way in hell!"
"Curiouser and curiouser." Three notices something peculiar trailing in the wind: Specs of sand originating from the west. "Hm…imagination is a weapon no doubt."
In wake of Three's statement, the Highwaymen sense a powerful existence due east. This presence is strong enough to bring them to their feet.
Furthermore, its blood metre coverage…spans the entire city.
This wind is malevolent. And this sand… Where is coming from?
"I suppose you believe I'm long gone by now. But you're *dead* wrong, Infinity."
A familiar voice sounds from the east, and earns both the Highwaymen's attention and their dread.
In the distance…stands Babyface, in one piece!
This is unexpected indeed:
The Methuselah squad thought the zombie was done for, but he survived One's assault somehow… They didn't sense his arrival until just a few moments ago. Questions of "how" and "why" arise, but are incapable of being expressed.
One destroyed this thing. I'm more than *sure* he did.
However, it…is still alive?
To survive something like that: What kind of existence does Babyface have?
"The proof was in the pudding all along." One finally speaks up, earning his comrades' indirect attention.
Two is intrigued by One's statement.
"What are you talking about, old man?"
"Sand: Rock grounded more finely than gravel, but not as fine as silt. It forms beaches and deserts, and is *also* used in 'construction'.
When dusty britches activated his existence, he constructed a wall of serpents to kill me instantly. But they were nothing more than a pile of sand.
I should have payed better attention from the start.
Not only can he make constructs, he can also break things down…including *his own body*. Since he's a zombie, decomposition is a natural thing. *Recomposition,* on the other hand… This is his weakness. There's no doubt about it."
One's hypothesis tickles Babyface.
"Fufufufufu…hahahahahaha!
Impressive 'idea'. But you know *nothing* about my existence." To further demonstrate his existential might, Babyface manipulates his sand to devastating proportions: He amasses it into a large vortex that operates as a vacuum.
This storm…violently absorbs anything nearby into it. Even the opera house is in danger of being leveled the vortex!
The Highwaymen are unable to resist the sandstorm's suction. It instantly overpowers them, as it developed much quicker than they could react.
Damn it! I…can't…breathe…
The storm not only consists of sand, it also contains water and recess from the harbor. Though they may be cyborgs, the Highwaymen are still human… Their bodies won't be able to stand Tender Lover's sandstorm for much longer.
"Release, In-spite.
By focusing my existence to a 45% sync rate, I, Babyface, can create a storm of sand that destroys *everything* caught in its vortex.
The water from this harbor is dirty, all thanks to its people. There's sure to be *plenty* of extra dirt, grime, trash, and diseases in it. Your reconstructed bodies are *nothing* compared to a true nightwalker's. So…with that said…
—goodnight, Infinity dogs! Fufufu…hahahahahahaha!" The zombie has gone mad with power. But this isn't confidence or arrogance, this…is fear.
The second Nightlord, Count Valdo, derogatorily addressed as "The Old Man," plunges all in his midst into the depths of madness. His existence *is* madness; the state of being insane; mental instability.
Babyface is one of many who would discard all scruples, virtues, morals and values for his cause…because he *fears* the Nightlord. Fear and madness: This is the gift of the Nightlord, and all who partake of it… "All hail…Count Valdo."
—achieve untold power… All except for one.
Ferryman Trading Co., Sydney
10 May, 2011
00:20—?'s Perspective
:-:
Open your eyes, my child. Your mind has been set free.
A voice awakens someone from the ashes of ruin.
To this person, everything's a blur: They don't remember what happened, where they are, or how they got here in the first place.
"Mm…mm, mm…"
The person pushes themself up from the cold, hard ground where they are laid.
Everything is dark, and the only light given shines through windows lined across walls to the north and the south. The light of the blood moon… But once this person's senses recover completely, it hears the sound of rumbling in the distance.
A "windy" rumbling, and the sound of swishing…like that of water.
"What…in the world?" The person attempts to stand, but they're still too disoriented to stay afoot. They collapse. "Damn it! My head…"
Don't force yourself. Hypnosis has that effect on humans.
The person hears the voice from before once again. One so gentle, so calming… But ironically, this voice sounds familiar.
"Who…are you?"
Your employer. I put you to sleep, so you could infiltrate the enemy camp.
Congratulations, child. You've done a fine job. Though you remember nothing, which is good… It's better that way.
"'Better'? I…don't understand…"
You don't have to. But I will tell you this: Your efforts were voluntary.
Everything you've accomplished here was of your own doing. The only assistance you required was immunity towards fear and madness. But the more you stayed in the enemy camp, the more you felt fear, the more you felt madness.
It's impossible to escape these things. No matter how hard we try, eluding and hiding from something only leads us closer to it. This sleeper mission was designed to a shut Ferryman down, but also to teach you a valuable lesson.
Stability finally returns to the person, as well as some recollection about their current situation. "Right, now I remember:
I've been a radical for over seven years now. After retiring from the services, the church pretty much kicked me to the curb.
I almost went homeless. But then…*you* found me, and gave me a job."
Ah, right. So, you remember that much already?
That's good, I'm glad.
The person crawls forward and finds a wall. This wall is used to climb back to a standing position, since they're still a little dizzy.
"Mm…mm…mm!"
Once the person manages to stand properly, they look out the window in front of them… In the distance, they see it: Tender Lover's storm in Sydney Harbor, just aside the opera house. "—!? How…is this even possible?"
This is Babyface's existence: It can manipulate sand, dirt and any form of grime to chaotic proportions. This release is of the A-class. But should the sun shine upon the zombie, it could level all of Australia in the blink of an eye.
The person's fists tighten upon the windowpane, and its eyes close with fear.
"…Nightwalkers…are dangerous."
And so are humans, empowered or not. Everyone is capable; harmony, genocide, liberation, enslavement, peace, destruction… Humans aren't powerless and weak.
Nightwalkers are dangerous, this is true. But don't belittle yourself because you see something like *this*. In my day, I saw worse.
Be thankful you're still alive to witness this, Lewis.
Yes, the revived is none other than the major. The person speaking to her telepathically is her employer: A faceless radical and a personal contact.
To some extent, this person is also her friend.
"Are the people going to be okay?"
Major Lewis' greatest concern lies with the citizens. Should any one of them be unfortunate enough to be near Tender Lover's storm… The night watchmen at the opera house should be done for. But that's not all.
"—? Who else…is there?"
Four of our own are there.
"*Us*? Do you know which ones?"
The Highwaymen. MT Units One, Two, Three and Four.
You had a little tussle with Three, and that's why you fell unconscious. That old loon listened to me for once: I told him to put you to sleep, and he did.
"So…what happened before I fell asleep…
—I still can't remember… Probably doesn't even matter now."
Half wrong, half right: The purpose matters, but the action has run its course.
What she "accomplished" has aided our cause a great deal. But people are fickle and cold: Even if one manages to save millions, their efforts would be forgotten with time. That's the kind of world we live in.
However, humans are "human". No matter how many times they seek new and adventurous things, one truth is for certain: They'll *always* need a helping hand. And that's where Infinity comes into play.
Stay your eyes on this storm, child. Keep watch, don't turn away.
These are your brethren…at their strongest.
"Strongest? How?
You mean…they're *still alive*...inside *that* thing?" Major Lewis pays close attention to the storm in the distance, uncertain of what will happen next.
The power of love is dangerous: It influences, unites, destroys and rebuilds nations. Its abilities are limitless… But there are times when love isn't enough; an even greater power is needed. What that power is depends on the person.
Lewis, you, too, have a power like we nightwalkers. It's not existence, it's your quality as a human. I wonder…what you're truly capable of.
This is something to ponder indeed.
As humans, what *are* we truly capable of? Not based on the opinions and perspectives of others… This is a question we ask ourselves at least once in our lifetime: What can I, as a person, do to make a change?
Against one capable of causing natural disasters… "Humph. It *is* a wonder."
—what could a normal human do?