Steamboats and Buster Swords

[Cloud]

Cloud fell forward into Timeless River. He immediately looked up, taking in the view. The Cornerstone... How innocent these times must have been, that it was sitting so exposed here in the middle of everything. It made Cloud's heart feel heavy to know they lived in such... troubled days.

He got up with some difficulty. This was not because he was injured, no, but because his body suddenly felt... different. He was stiff, could barely move the way he needed to. His hands had been melted into massive blocks, and his legs were practically single-piece stocks with cubes on the end. He looked all around, feeling his form. He was polygons here... and little else...

Well... at least he still had the Buster Sword (or a facsimilie thereof) still strapped to his back. That'd have to do. He looked around and called out to those walking around. "TAKE COVER! BAD GUYS ARE ON THEIR WAY!" he said, his voice sounding so... garbled. Thank god this simple warning was all it would take to get the inhabitants to run for cover.

Tick tock, Cloud...

With a growl, the polygon hero ran up to a large cat which was trying to make his clean getaway. "You!" he said, recognizing the trappings of a boat owner in his clothing and the hat he wore. "Do you have a ship?"

"Course I got a ship!" the cat boasted, his hands on his hips. "Finest craft on the river!"

"Help me hide this then!" Cloud said, pushing the cornerstone the cat's way.

"Whhoaah! I hope you know what you're doin' pipsqueak!" the steamboat captain wailed as they quickly rolled the glowing orb to the river, where he loaded it up and started towing it down the way. "What do I do with it now??"

"Hide it!" Cloud called, then ran back to the area where the door was. He had the stone hidden... but that didn't mean the Heartless weren't coming. He needed to buy that guy some time to properly hide it... He didn't know how, but Cloud gripped his sword tightly, ready for a fight!

[Acteur de la Noir]

The first thing that Acteur was aware of as he touched down was the simple innocence of this world—so untouched and old-fashioned that the very enviroment had taken on hues of monochromatic nature. Everywhere he looked, it was black, white, and the various shades of gray that existed between. The simplicity of this world was reflected in its inhabitants, too—even as the Heartless puppeteer looked on, a tall and lanky horse ran past, a figure of simple, tube-like limbs and virtual “dots” for eyes. Clearly, someone had warned him that trouble was coming—taking one look at Acteur, no doubt spotting his Heartless insignia, the lanky horse let out a bellow of fear.

“The bad guys’re here!” he hollered as he pointed at Acteur. “Run for the hills!”

upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/1/1c/Horace_horecollar.jpg

As he watched the horse peel out in a cloud of dust, Acteur was struck by a sudden thought. Bad guys…as in plural? And for that matter, why did everything seem taller…or was it that he was smaller? And come to think of it, his perceptions seemed a little funny…as if he was looking through more than one pair of eyes? Struck by the realization, the Heartless puppetmaster looked down at himself…and, for a moment, found himself at a rare loss for words. It wasn’t just that his body had changed—he had several of them!

It was as though he presently existed as an incorporeal entity, looking down at a party of traveling adventurers…or rather, a group of puppets, prancing along in theatrical fashion. There was a puppet dressed like an English nobleman, with top hat, tails, and a curly mustache; there was a madcap-looking clown puppet in jester’s finery; there was a ghost puppet with a white sheet and eyes painted in jet black; there was a musician who carried a violin in his artificial hands; and finally, there was a burglar doll, wearing the classic garb of a mask and a black-and-white striped shirt. Looking ahead, Acteur saw that his hands were floating and disembodied, manipulating a set of puppeteer crosses that caused the dolls to move. However, at the same time, he could perceive things through their eyes, move their limbs as his own. He stood apart from them…and yet, he was them.

After a few confounding moments, the proverbial light bulb snapped on in Acteur’s mind . Of course, he thought to himself with a dry chuckle. This is a world of the past, after all…

At that moment, the Heartless performer(s) found their train of thought blocked off by a new development—someone was running towards them, apparently attracted by the horse’s scream. At first, Acteur wondered if perceiving things from at least five sets of eyes was blurring his vision—as far as he could tell, the approaching figure looked like something that had leaped out of a turn-of-the-century computer game, all blocky polygons and nondescript details. But sure enough, his eyes did not deceive…and as said figure came skidding to a halt, certain elements of his appearance resonated with Acteur’s keen memory. That spiky hair. The absurdly huge sword. Surely, this could only be…

With a laugh that came from all five of his “avatars” at once, Acteur de la Noir confronted the one known as Cloud Strife. “Ah, the wayward wolf seeking redemption; we meet again!” the Heartless puppeteer crowed. Focusing his will into the nobleman puppet—feeling a certain affinity with this one compared to the others—he made its dapper-clad body bend forward in a gentlemanly bow. “Quite the effect this place has on us, non? Perhaps t’is some magic of the Cornerstone in this era…” He paused, and the “burglar” puppet rubbed its hands together gleefully. “I don’t suppose you know where it might be found?”

[Cloud]

Cloud gripped his sword as he faced off with the heartless(es?). He still wasn't 100% certain how he was doing it, but it worked and that's all he needed to know. When the voice came, he didn't quite recognize it, yet he had a strong feeling he already knew where they knew each other.

"Are you the one that knocked me out?" he asked demandingly, referring to the one who had ambushed him from behind leading to his capture and imprisonment in the dungeons of the World that Never Was. Cloud never got to see or hear the coward that got him, but this odd group seemed to fit the bill with its shared voice and of course, the heartless symbol emblazoned on each of the little puppets.

When the burgler asked where the Cornerstone was, Cloud growled lightly. "Wouldn't YOU like to know??" he growled, then got ready for a fight. "You're not welcome here. Get out!" Cloud went to run forward, to strike the strings of these monsters, but something odd happened...

He was frozen still. "What??" he gasped, then looked down. He noticed his feet were firmly planted, and at the bottom of his vision, a command menu had made itself seen. The entire scene was similar to:



He had to WAIT. The time meter near his name was not yet filled, but it was slowly getting there. He looked up, a scowl on his lips. "Damn..." he muttered, watching Acteur's next move...

[Acteur de la Noir]

Acteur--or at least, the five puppets that formed his presence in this world--cackled as one at Cloud's defiance. "T'is to be expected, really," the ghost puppet whispered. "All living things struggle against the darkness as it closes in, no matter how fruitless it may become." A pause, and the jester puppet stepped forward to point at Cloud. "Especially in your case--such darkness I sense in your heart! What delicious irony, for you to be the defender of this world's bastion of light!" As the jester cackled, the dandy puppet stepped forward, tipping his hat and offering a mocking bow. "No matter...come, lone wolf! You shall learn the true terror of the Phantom Puppeteer, Acteur de la Noir!"

With those words, all five Heartless puppets assumed battle stances, their eerie yellow eyes gleaming with diabolical anticipation as they promptly...

...Did nothing.

Even though none of Acteur’s present bodies had his signature mask, his surprise was palpable—mostly in the way those five sets of glowing yellow eyes went wide, and they way their owners looked at each other with arms flung wide in obvious disbelief. The same immobility that had kept Cloud from attacking now likewise stayed Acteur’s hand(s), and he was likewise flabbergasted by this unexpected development. It was then that the Heartless performer noticed something strange, floating just out of the corner of his vision. When he turned his head to look, it moved subtly to remain on his peripheral range, forcing him to observe it based on indistinct details. It seemed to be a square of some sort—dark blue background, framed by a border of silver-white. Glowing white text filled the box; even without viewing it directly, Acteur could perceive the following:

Acteur => ATK
DEF
MAG
ITM

Though hardly proficient in breaking the fourth wall, Acteur instinctively understood the meaning behind this box—really, it operated on a similar basis as the hands that plucked the strings of his present bodies. A moment’s concentration—the perception of one of those ghostly hands stabbing the “MAG” with an extended index finger—and the knowledge of his spells seemed to spring into existence inside his mind. Knowing that this lone wolf wasn’t one to take lightly, Acteur made his choice—and, through his gentleman avatar, fixed Cloud with a menacing stare as he extended his right arm. “Let me pose you a question, little wolf…”

With those words, the dandy snapped his fingers, producing a large explosion of dark smoke laced through with a dusky purple aura. The aura engulfed all five of Acteur’s persona-puppets, swirled like a small vortex…and then, with an eerie fluidness, morphed and parted into clones of those personas. It was no longer one group of five against the pixelated swordsman, but five groups of five—each of which looked completely and utterly solid! Despite being little taller than lowly Shadows, Acteur’s “avatars” still presented a rather unsettling sight with their unearthly eyes and deceptively-toy-like bodies...especially when, in complete and eerie harmony, the twenty-five puppets let out a sinister chuckle and spoke as one:

“…Which is real, and which is fake? Choose wisely; pay for a mistake...”

[Cloud]

Great. Now there was about 25 puppets and 5 sets of hands. Knowing which set was going to be tricky... if not impossible. He'd have to basically rely on luck and instinct. Without any materia, he had no magic to fall back on. What he wouldn't give for a good thunder=all combo right about now...

Second from the left... that voice echoed in his voice.

Cloud had no choice here. He'd have to take this advice at face value, so when his meter filled and he was finally able to make a decision on what to do, the cursor went to "ATK" and selected. He then moved the pointer with his will until it aimed at the strings above the set of puppets second from the left. He rushed foward and swiped his sword as hard as he could. A number popped up from those strings.

200

Not bad, considering he was tired and this system of battle was a bit... wacky. Nostalgic, yes, but wacky. He growled a bit, waiting to see if the voice had lead him true...

"Come on..."

[Acteur de la Noir]

Cloud would be rewarded by the sight of those shadowy puppet strings bending under the force of his sword, the faintest hints of fray showing that not even the essence of darkness was completely immune to his formidable steel and skill. The puppets connected to those threads spasmed wildly in response, their limbs flailing about without direction and their bodies contorting in ways that wouldn't be possible for a normal human. A ghostly hiss seemed seemed to issue from all the puppets at once; the disembodied gloves holding the puppeteer crosses tightened...and just like that, the seizure was brought back to a close, all five of the affected puppets straightening up and shaking their heads in a comical display of clearing their heads. There was little humor, however, in the way those glowing yellow eyes then turned upon Cloud...and as they chuckled, the mirth in that haunting, cultured voice could only be considered diabolical.

"Clever, clever, the little wolf," observed the dandy, stroking his chin.
"Mayhap he's got senses most keen?" wondered the musician.
"Or perhaps a voice whispers in his ear," mused the burglar.
"Hee hee! Relying on the dark, is he?!" cackled the jester.
"The ghosts of his past will claim him thus," intoned the ghost.

Then one of the ghostly hands moved once more, still holding the puppeteer cross as it extended a long forefinger to stroke one of the options on the astral menu...once again, "MAG." But this time, the manipulator behind the crosses and dolls intended more than mere deception and evasion. "A valiant first blow," the cultured voice admitted with the hint of a sinister smirk. "But see how this strikes your fancy!"

With that, all twenty-five puppets flung their arms wide, and with a firecracker crescendo of that black-and-purple smoke, a volley of elegant daggers streaked through the air. Hilts wrought from fine metals, blades of crystalized darkness, each one embraced by an aura of shadow that trailed behind it like a comet...together, these combined into a storm of dark blades, seeming to fill the air as they all flew towards Cloud in swift, curving arcs.

[Cloud]

Cloud clenched his teeth. He tried to lift his arms, to shield himself, but his meter would not allow him to! He stood there and was stricken time and time again, each dagger disappearing against his skin upon impact leaving behind either a 10 or a MISS. Sad to say, the majority had hit.

10... multiplied by 20. 200 HP worth of damage. He only had 300 to start with. Already two thirds of his entire life power was gone. He had to do soemthing. Fast. He was down on one knee, breathing hard as he observed his status. 100/300 HP, 54 MP. He didn't have any magic on hand... And his Limit meter wasn't full yet. It had maybe half a point left to go, but it would not relent that final distance.

Cloud growled softly, feeling tired and beat down. He knew which of them was the real enemy, but they all seemed capable of attacking just as effectively illusion or not. This was not good. He checked another meter which was just outside of his "time" guage... It read "Getaway". It was nearly full as well. Cloud chuckled lightly... though tired.

"Game's over, puppet..." he said, picking up his sword as his turn came back around. "You loose!" He ran forward and swiped at the stings again. It didn't matter if it defeated the puppets or not... because just as he made that final swing, the Getaway Guage had filled up. He jumped back to starting position and knealt down once more, too tired to stand.

"You'll never find the Cornerstone now. What happens from this point out doesn't matter any more..."

[Acteur de la Noir]

At the wounded swordsman's taunt, all twenty-five sets of puppets froze in mid-dance (having been capering about on their side of the "field" when the daggers struck); as one, they whirled their heads about to stare wildly at the sky. At least, that's how it would look to any of residents of the Timeless River who might've had the bravery--or foolishness--to stay and watch the fight. In reality, though, the guiding presence behind those artificial figures was staring at the same gauge that had caught Cloud's eye--the one marked "Getaway." The pale brightness that filled up the meter pulsed in rhythm, accompanied by a primitive, high-pitched chime...and, combined with Cloud's taunt, it's meaning was clear.

The Cornerstone was beyond the reach of the Heartless.

For a moment, the Heartless puppets stood there in blank silence--an army of five and their illusory doubles, thwarted in their goal. Then, in perfect unison, they turned to face the beleaguered ex-SOLDIER, the decoys fading away like smoke on the wind...and while Acteur's current face(s) offered no hint of expression, the quiet anger in his voice(s), laced with melodrama though it was, could not be mistaken for anything else.

"So. This whole fight was merely a farce," the musician observed.
"T'is impossible to steal the jewel now," lamented the burglar.
"But even so, the last laugh can be ours!" the jester pointed out.
"Yes...the shadows of your past are considerable," the ghost intoned.
"Ergo, I extend to you an involuntary invitation!" declared the dandy.

With those words, the disembodied hand that manipulated the puppets stabbed the "MAG" option on its dialog box once again...but this time, action came not from the puppets, but from the hands themselves! For a second glove had emerged from the thin air to join the first, flexing its fingers in anticipation...and while it held no puppeteer cross like its twin, this particular hand was wreathed in a shadowy aura; a blackness that slithered along those tapering digits. Turning in Cloud's direction, this second hand reared back and spread its fingers wide, a king cobra prepared to strike...and then, with a vicious swiftness, those fingers shot out straight, and their power was set loose.

They weren't the most visually-striking form of magic, those slender threads of glistening darkness--at least, not when compared to the likes of Ultima, or Meteo. But the eyes could deceive in regards to power; these shadow-strands were a threat all their own--and one far more subtle and potentially dangerous than the magical version of a tactical nuke...for any whom they snared would become a slave to the will of the channeler, a puppet dancing on strings of darkness.

Unless Cloud was lucky enough to receive a "miss," those threads of glittering darkness would wrap around his limbs, seeming to blend smoothly into his body with little resistance--as though responding to his inner darkness. His vision would blur, shadows rising up before his eyes as the sinister magic behind this diabolical form of puppetry wound itself deeper, seeking to conquer his mind as well as his body. All the while, he would hear that cultured voice echoing in his ears, accompanied by a vision of that elegantly-dressed performer he met down in the dungeons of Castle Nowhere.

"Come along now, little wolf...the kingdom of the night awaits."

[Cloud]

Cloud was already weakened. A MISS was way too much to hope for at this point in the game. The attack hit its mark, and true to form, the effects were instantaneous. His actions were no longer his to command, even though he felt in complete control as his mind took him elsewhere...

In his psychoscape, Cloud appeared as he should, though wearing his old SOLDIER uniform, a fact that he wasn't exactly fond of. He looked around, unaware of what had happened, but when he saw Acteur, he wouldn't take the time to care about that right now. "No more tricks!" Cloud grumbled, pulling up his buster sword... or rather... Zack's buster sword... and rushing at the puppet.

Now, now... that all-too-familiar voice whispered, and just as Cloud was about to deal a deathstroke on the little annoying actor... A katana blade blocked him.

That's no way to treat a guest... spoke the silver-haired demon from Cloud's nightmares as he forced the sword away. A sly grin crossed his features as he got to a more comfortable battle stance. Don't be rude...

"Sephiroth!" Cloud roared, his eyes filling with anger as he gripped the sword tighter. "Why is it always YOU?!" he demanded, wanting nothing more than to finish this calamity off once and for all.

Isn't it obvious? Sephiroth mocked, his catlike orbs never leaving Cloud's stance. You miss me...

"SHUT UP!!" Cloud yelled, running forward and locking swords with the child of JENOVA, as he had done countless times before.

Face it, Cloud... you'll never let go of the darkness... But don't worry... the man spoke in such an eerily calm voice, seeming to not be putting a lot of effort into fighting the golden-haired opponent. I'll make it all better... Hey, you... Italian...

Sephiroth was addressing Acteur directly, though he wasn't looking directly at him. You're pulling the strings, here... leave the puppet to me...

"I'm NO ONE'S PUPPET!!" Cloud growled, then began to fight with more heated ferocity. A mere chuckle would escape Sephiroth as the two titans entered battle within the confines of Cloud's mind...

And yet, outside... the body was a slave to the will of the one pulling the strings. The elegance of the trap was worthy of the performer... The Darkness was distracting Cloud's mind, but not the exquisite darkness of Acteur's design, but the man's own haunted past! What better, what more effective hold could the Puppet possibly have on him?? None, that's what. He was free to do with Cloud's form as he wished while the mind battled demons he'd never overcome...

This battle was over.

[Acteur de la Noir]

In the Dreamscape:

To the sole occupants of this ethereal otherspace, the intruder--once more assuming his usual form, not the bizzarre legion that presently faced Cloud in the Timeless River--offered a gentlemanly bow, a tip of that hat. And on his mask, that crescent-smile had taken on a peculiar twist--to the sinister, dark-clad swordsman with the curtain of silvery hair, Acteur's expression seemed nonchalant, almost mischievously so. To the pointy-headed, angst-ridden lone wolf, however, that smile could be seen as mocking...and it very well could be.

With a madcap chuckle his sole response to the dismissal from Sephiroth--and the outraged reply that it elicited from Cloud--the elegantly-dressed figure turned, and in a whirl of his tattered black cloak, he left the two skilled warriors to their eternal duel...

The Timeless River:

As the battle came to an end, any residents of this quaint, halcyon townstead would emerge from their respective hiding places to behold a rather unsettling sight--five puppets, each with a spooky glow in their eye, marching towards the mysterious door that brought strangers to their world. Above them, a disembodied hand manipulated a puppeteer's cross, directing the actions of the artificial performers. But it was the subject of the other hand that would be most sinister of all--the glistening, shadowy strings that extended from those skeletal-thin fingers were wrapped in the limbs of a spiky-headed polygonal figure. Said individual seemed to offer no objection to his predicament...indeed, he marched with the same perky, measured gait as his captors.

Without a word or glance backwards, the six figures walked through that mysterious doorway, swallowed up by the glowing light that radiated from the threshold...and then they were gone.

The inhabitants of the Timeless River would later find out that the Cornerstone was safe, thanks to the efforts of a gruff steamboat captain and a spiky-headed stranger. Alas, as they cheered and celebrated, they could not help but wonder what would become of the latter...

*To Breaking down the King's Doors*