Cruisin' for a Bruisin'...

[Orestes]

As the ships traveled up into Hyperspace, their speed slowed down to a comfortable travel pace. The inky blackness slowly took on the normal shape, and the lines slowly receded into their original form. Orestes took his seat at the Captain's chair, and instructed his men to notify him of any changes immediately.

"Relax and take five, gentlemen. We will simply cruise and remain vigilant until we find our target, the Red Rose."

[Acteur de la Noir]

From the World that Never Was:

At that moment, an anomaly appeared on the bridge--a swirling mass of inky darkness, tinged around the edges with ghostly purple. The singularity grew quickly, seeming to draw in darkness from the shadows of the Harbinger. And yet, none of the crew paid it any mind--indeed, several of them even seemed to be excited to see it, as though expecting the arrival of an officer on deck. But that was to be expected, really--the Heartless were darkness incarnate...just like this whirling vortex. It was a Corridor of Darkness, a forbidden means of inter-dimensional transit used by those who walked the path of the night.

A few moments later, such a traveler emerged from the swirling void, his elegant finery outlined with a penumbral aura of purple. There were those who might recognize this eccentric figure as Acteur de la Noir, the Phantom Puppeteer of the Heartless...and those same people would be able to tell that something about him was off.

It wasn't just that his expressive mask was cracked down the middle, or that his garb had become tattered and unkempt. It was in the very air around him--a tangible aura of pure Darkness, flickering and licking at the surroundings like a hungry flame. The oppressive aura seemed to leech the very color out of Acteur de la Noir's clothes...from his very personality! Normally so expressive and gallivant, the Phantom Puppeteer was now a dour and silent shell of his former self, his cape draped about him like the robe of the Grim Reaper.

With a measured, machine-like gait, Acteur de la Noir approached the ship's de facto captain--that power-hungry master of earth and martial arts. "Maestro has sent me, Orsetes," he intoned in a low, unbalanced tone of voice. "I will aid you in crushing this final, flickering ray of Light aboard the Red Rose."

Yes...Acteur definitely sounded off.

[Orestes]

Orestes had been leaning back in his chair when he felt a powerful force in the air around him. He breathed the scent in deeply through his nostrils, tasting the sweet aroma of...Darkness. Yes, it was a Corridor that was opening up in the very fabric of time and space, and as he watched, a man stepped through. A man Orestes had seen before, but yet could not place his finger on where...

Then he recognized him. While prowling through the Darkness, Orestes had sensed and seen flashes of this man. He appeared worse for wear this time around, however, sporting a cracked facemask and an aura of deliciously dark...well...Darkness surrounding him. It seemed to leech all life and color from the air around him. Orestes felt his mouth twisting upward in a cruel sneer as Acteur announced that he was sent to help destroy the Red Rose.

"Excellent, my good man. Please, take a seat next to me..." Orestes motioned for one of his orderlies, and a small band of Heartless had quickly installed and positioned a chair next to Orestes' position.

"I assume you have some information as to the location of the Red Rose? The quicker we find it, the quicker we may snuff out the small, insignificant insects that are aboard it..."

[Acteur de la Noir]

At Orestes' words, Acteur de la Noir went deathly still for a moment, those piercing yellow eyes glowing like torchlight as they fixed upon his fellow Heartless with a sudden intensity. "Be mindful of thy judgement, mon capitaine barbare," he intoned with a quietness that was somehow profound, lifting a single finger as though in dramatic admonishment. "Mere insects would have been crushed beneath our feet long ere now, or otherwise consumed by the Darkness and reborn as our fellow Heartless. That these self-styled Guardians of the Light manage to linger, even as all lights across all the Worlds begin to flicker and fade, is testament to their unpredictability." Here Acteur paused, his eerie gaze boring into Orestes'. "Take heed, mon ami--to underestimate them at this juncture wouldst be a fool's mistake."

The silence lingered for an endless moment, adding weight to Acteur's words, to that tone that could easily have been either warning or criticism. Alas, it was impossible to tell which--it was as though the choking aura of Darkness which now suffused the Phantom Puppeteer's body had clouded his very self, amplifying the sinister enigma that he had once carried with such wicked cavalier. Even a warrior like Orestes would have to wonder: what had happened to Acteur to render him to this state? What was going through that puppet's head?

But Acteur did not give his captain long to dwell on the matter--in a trice, the elegantly-clad puppeteer swept his cape over one shoulder and moved to take his seat, settling into the stylized chair and slouching against the cushion with absolute decadence, acting for all the world as though he were set upon a throne. "Ahhh...a command seat of my own," he sighed as his gloved fingers stroked along the armrests, the rich tone of satisfaction in his voice tainted by a subtle undertone of irony. "Don't I feel entitled...or perhaps I should I rather call it an adjutant's post? No matter, no matter...either way, t'is most befitting for the likes of myself."

Steepling his fingers together as he reclined in his seat, Acteur glanced over to Orestes and let out a low hum of contemplation...and, as his Darkness aura rippled and danced like fire, his theatricality seemed to resemble what it once was. "Now, then...to find the Red Rose, or not to find the Red Rose?" intoned the puppeteer. "That is our question. Whether tis more useful of our time to suffer the search through worlds and ethers of outrageous size...or, by taking arms against a sea of impossible odds, to end them? To hunt, to slay, no more!" For a moment, Acteur tilted his head upwards, his tone somehow poetic. "And for the hunt...to say that we trace an instrument of the Heart, and the thousand natural drives that a Heart is heir to..." Another pause, and those brilliant yellow orbs shrank into closed slits, that deathly-solemn voice subtly choked with some indistinguishable emotion. "Ahh...t'is a conclusion devoutly to be wished!"

With this cryptic statement, Acteur raised his hands, skeletal-thin fingers stretching out within those theater gloves as though searching with a dowsing rod. For those who could sense it, they would know that the Phantom Puppeteer was reaching out through the astral plane, casting out finely-tuned "threads" of mystic focus to try and track down a specific vessel...or perhaps a person...or perhaps even an object that a person was carrying; some item of great personal significance--an object which might even have a connection to the one who was searching for it. Say, a talented musician, and the elegantly-wrought instrument she had received from a man--thou art a puppet, nothing more!--whom she had come to l--silence...let it all be swallowed in darkness...

For a few silent moments, nothing. But then, flickering in the air in front of the Phantom Puppeteer...was that a trick of the light, or were those dusky threads of translucent silver, winding out into the ether-filled void of Hyperspace...?

[Orestes]

Orestes simply stood in front of Acteur, letting him give his warnings and poetic-ly cryptic messages. Folding his fingers in front of him as he took his own seat, he chuckled at the Heartless' musings about his own seat of ranking, turning to face him after staring out at black space for a few moments.

"You seem surprised that you have that chair, my friend..." Orestes allowed a small smile to curve his lips. "I gave it to you because I sense your power. You have wisdom and experience beyond your years, no doubt. As do I. I am sure that between us, we can crush the...insect-like Light-Wielders where they fly."

Orestes rotated his skull slowly, cracking the tendons in his neck with a loud popping sound before continuing. "Do not get me wrong, brother, I do not underestimate them...but when you compare a small rag-tag group of weaklings against you, I, and the might of the Heartless Battle Fleet...it stands to reason that we would crush them, no? Granted, they may fly faster and shoot quicker, but we have the sheer power and numbers to take them down. Even if this ship must be destroyed to accomplish it, they...will...suffer!"

Orestes' eyes burned with fervor as he spoke, the ice-blue orbs seeming to burst into flame in his very sockets. He tightened his fist, honing in on the small, thread-like tendrils of darkness that Acteur sent out into Hyperspace. Twining his own dark threads around his Heartless bretheren's, he added his power to Acteur's, simplifying their search.

He had a small suspicion that these were the people he was looking for. But he sensed a certain...apprehension in Acteur as he gave the commands to his orderlies to pilot the fleet in the direction of the ship. Was his brother having second thoughts? Perhaps the person he had found was a love interest of some sort? Orestes snorted. He had no time for such things, although he did love the Heartless Army...as much as his cold and black heart could.

"I gave you that chair, my friend, because we are all brothers, united in a single cause to bring a new era to the world. One of peace and lovely darkness..." He turned to face the man as he spoke. "But I sense apprehension in you. Are you holding something back? I hope not, for when the time comes to snuff out the lights, will you be able to...?"

[Acteur de la Noir]

There was a moment of silence from Acteur de la Noir in the wake of Oreste's accusation--indeed, little reaction at all. The Phantom Puppeteer merely sat there, eerie yellow eyes staring out the ship's main observation port while his outstretched fingers danced with unnatural speed, manipulating the shadowy threads that led the Harbinger toward its prey. Of course, the silence alone, coupled with certain non-verbal cues--an increased tempo to Acteur's fingers, the flickering and roiling of the puppeteer's shadowy aura, the way those ghostly orbs slid in the dark gaps of his mask to gaze at Orestes--might be considered reaction enough.

Could it be that the words of the Heartless warrior had struck a chord with his brethren--was there conflict in the void that gave the Heartless their name?? Or were these things a simple side-effect of the focus required for that tracking spell--the increased activity of his fingers a sign of narrowing down the location of their foes; that wordless stare an admonishment to not break his concentration?

Then, without warning, Acteur scoffed quietly, a whispering and dismissive sound. "Apprehension? There is none," he intoned with a subtle hint of eloquence to his otherwise-monotone. "I am an instrument of the greater Darkness...the antithesis to the Light. To exist is to oppose that light...to swallow it utterly, or be engulfed by eradicating radiance. Such is the role cast to me..." A pause, and Acteur let his tone drop an octave. "...And given the stakes, I shall play that role to the utmost. Of this, you can be assured beyond any doubt."

With that cryptic remark, Acteur de la Noir returned his gaze out the window, those keen yellow eyes pulsing as if in anticipation of the grand finale that was yet to come.

[Orestes]

Orestes nodded with satisfaction as Acteur continued to search within Hyperspace. It appeared that his words had some effect on the Heartless, but he could not be sure until...there. His eyes slid over to gaze at Orestes, and he waited patiently for him to deliver-no doubt-another cryptic message.

He wasn't disappointed, either. Acteur stated that he was the antithesis of light, and Orestes smiled approvingly, nodding his head. "Good. I will need that Darkness when the time comes for us to fight. I feel as though we are drawing closer to the Red Rose. Closer to those dots of light that we must snuff out for good. They will know true suffering when we are finished."

Orestes paused, taking a deep breath and petting one of the Soldier Heartless on the head affectionately. It gave a small tilt of its cranium, huge, yellow orbs gazing up admiringly for a moment before bounding off into the confines of the ship. Orestes then popped his knuckles, turning to face Acteur once more.

"I do hope you can keep your word, monsieur..." His voice lowered slightly, his words cold and emotionless as he locked eyes with the Phantom Puppeteer. "It would be a shame if you...reneged halfway through our battle, and I was forced to take...unpleasant actions towards you."

His mouth curved upwards in a cruel smile. "I have no doubt that you can carry through on your own, but I will have no problem making a swift and just example of you to the rest of my bretheren. You will be my second-in-command in this mission, answering to no one but myself. Do NOT make me regret this, mon ami. Am I clear?"

He sat back in the Captain's Chair, idly stretching his arms as he waited for news of the Red Rose's position...

[Acteur de la Noir]

Once again, those eerie yellow eyes drifted in the sable void behind that theatrical mask, glittering with keen intellect as they found the cerulean orbs of their brethren and fellow general. However, if Acteur de la Noir was at all offended by Orestes' insinuations--let alone threatened by the promise of a vicious execution if he intended betrayal--the Phantom Puppeteer certainly didn't show it. Indeed, as Acteur reclined in his command chair and spread his arms like a musical conductor's, his demeanor was, if anything, languid and relaxed--even, if the tilt of his head was anything to go by, struck by morbid curiosity. The darkness around him rippled and hissed as it loomed like an oppressive fog, leeching the once-vibrant hues of his plum-hued finery into a lifeless mixture of dull purple and ashen gray--the color, perhaps, that surrounded a poisoned wound or a deep, vicious bruise. It was as though the malevolent black aura fed upon Oreste's words, steeping Acteur further and further in the embrace of the chaotic Darkness from whence the Heartless sprang.

Then his head dipped forward in a nod, a quiet chuckle escaping the crescent-moon slash across that porcelain visage. "Oh, completely, mon capitaine," he intoned in a soft, dusky voice. "There is no hesitation. No turning back. Only the path forward, leading into an eternal Darkness."

With that, Acteur returned his attention to the viewport, casting out his threads to find some trace of the intended prey. The darkness that engulfed his artificial body was like an icy torrent, surging through his mind in a relentless black tide that swept away all doubts and irrelevant concerns, leaving his thoughts utterly clear. There was nothing to distract him--the poetic eloquence with which he usually spoke and thought was muffled in the shadows, allowing him to focus clearly on his task, which was...was...Darkness is all. There is nothing else...the extinguishing of the Light. The influx of Darkness also sharpened his sinister instincts, refining them into the tools worthy of a Victorian-Era murderer who had stalked the foggy streets of London...there would be no mercy for his prey.

And yet, deep beneath the oceans of darkness, a thought persisted. A whisper, really. And yet, it could not be fully extinguished; a single flickering spark amidst the crushing Darkness that suffused that lanky form. Alas, the presence was merely that--insubstantial, held captive within its own body and buried in the fathomless shadows. And in the isolation of the mind, secluded from rest of the world, that consciousness uttered a single, mournful statement that was doomed to never be heard:

Cherie Sarah...I am so very sorry...

[Orestes]

Orestes relaxed languidly in his Captain's Chair, idly toying with a few tousled bits of his hair as he contemplated the best way to deal with the thread once he found them. Other than that, there wasn't much else to do but wait...and let his power grow. He felt a great battle or conflict rushing up, something...massive.

The powers of the Darkness were speaking to him. He would rise up above others who had failed, and his brother Atticus would know his pride and accomplishment when he snuffed out the last sparks of light and let Darkness rule out the land. With his newest member, Acteur at his side, no one could stand against them.

He closed his eyes, beginning a swift and effective meditation to increase his tolerance of pain and further channel his powers of aggression to better use. He idly mentioned for Acteur to let him know when something came up, drifting off into a slumber of immense concentration...

[Sai]

Within the infinite expanse of hyperspace, the illusion of being but singular beings is overwhelming. With so much great emptiness between worlds, so much scope and size, it's easy to think that the everyday workings of life in general are unrelated to one another, seperated by distances incomprehensible to mortal minds...

But that is an absolute lie. As one heartless once said, "we are all connected". And so, as Acteur and Orestes sat upon their seats of power, the time passing by like frozen mollasses, it would become easy to believe they'd been given a go-nowhere assignment... until those very spiderlike strands spread across the cosmos would feel a tug on the far reaches of their influence.

Like a fly unaware it is caught in the spider's web, the BinShip would be rocketing away from the World That Never Was, passing on the other side of a dead planet in a perfect example of dramatic irony without once suspecting that the Harbinger and its fleet were there. It was obvious from its flight plan that it was going somewhere, and should either of the elder heartless use their influence to sneek a peek behind the curtain, they'd see the Nobody of their Master was aboard the ship.

Two plus two, gentlemen. The BinShip was on a beeline to the Rose. Because it had no idea it was being followed, it would lead them right to the nest, so to speak.

That is, if the Harbinger can keep up...

***only post from us, fellas. Good luck!***

[Orestes]

Orestes had been lounging in the Captain's Chair, meditating to focus his power, when he felt a small, almost feather-like brushing against him. Well, against Acteur, really. The spider-like threads that the puppeteer had send out were receiving contact! Orestes eagerly homed in on the source, assured that Acteur was as well.

A ship! It was speeding along the other side of The World that Never Was, Orestes' crew and the Harbinger hidden. Orestes quickly barked orders to his crew, locking onto the ship's current and ever-changing position with the advanced technology available to the Heartless. Bringing the engines to life, he followed behind the small vessel.

"It seems our luck has turn around, mon ami," he remarked to Acteur. "Soon, that ship will lead us to wherever the Red Rose is, and we will crush whatever pathetic resistance they can muster..."

[Acteur de la Noir]

Acteur's response came in the form of a silent nod...at first. For a moment, the majority of his reaction seemed to come from the aura of Darkness that suffused his lanky frame--that inky blackness which writhed and hissed with renewed vigor, as if eagerly anticipating the outcome that Orestes had predicted. Depending on the senses that he possessed, however, the commander of the Harbinger might have noticed something more about that aura--the jet-black void was drawing in motes of arcane energy, as though in preparation for something. This was all but confirmed a moment later, when the haunting timbre of Acteur's voice emerged from the eerie crescent-moon of his theatrical mask.

"We will not only follow, mon capitaine...we shall deceive. Behold now the powers of a master performer, amplified by all the Darkness of the Universe...!"

With those words, Acteur spread his arms outward in a vicious slash of movement, and the glittering black threads leaped from his gloved hands in a crazyquilt of arcane strands. Latching themselves into the floors and ceiling, the strings merged seamlessly with the material, spreading like veins as they flowed throughout the ship. Others seemed to leap out the viewport to seek out any nearby ships of the Heartless Armada, connecting them to the Harbinger in a sinister parody of umbilical cords. And one thread, in particular, lanced out into the void between Worlds and sought out the BinShip...not to snare or control, but merely to follow.

Remaining locked in that chair, the Phantom Puppeteer's eyes glanced over to Orestes, his theatrical voice gone tight with effort--even with whatever power the influx of Darkness had given him, this was no easy task. "Our forces are united through my threads, mon ami," he intoned. "They will follow our lead...and they will be concealed to some degree. To any who try to scry us, they will find only what seems to be a single flagship...they will not...be prepared...to behold...that which is legion..."

Raising a hand that shook with strain, Acteur de la Noir pointed out the viewport. "Let us fly...on wings of Darkness...toward thy destiny!"

And, in some lost part of him, a small voice whispered, all to itself: And let the end come, at long last..."