KNOW YOUR RIGHTS.

[agogemod]

WHO? Everybody! Including fourth wall visitors.
WHAT? Time to kiss the spiders goodbye and strike out for greener pastures.
WHEN? 10 XI, Year 6 of Sanaliel's reign (as of arrival in Lemuria).
ANYTHING ELSE? Please warn for anything besides physical violence and move to a personal journal if it's beyond PG-13.

this is a public service announcement;

with guitar

ESCAPE TACTICS

READ THE JHASHCH INFOPAGE.

The departure from Jhashch has none of the ceremony of arrival. A few hours after the last of the mission teams report in, a bulletin goes out. It's the only forewarning for the time-step.

@SCOUT | @ALL

emergency time-step approved
expect it within the hour

you won't be returning to base; we'll port in supplies after arrival
if you have your standard cost clothing, change into it now
cover your face and hide the cost patch

It's hurried and without embellishment, and for good reason. While the teams have deterred and distracted the Regency and burned House Shaiy's residence, it hasn't stemmed the chaos. If anything, it encourages it.

Princess Chch still lives, but Queen Thsh is viewed as the Aranean ideal of a tyrant, confidence only bolstered by surviving the Regency's assassination attempts. COST has her blessing — and that of the Twin Generals and Prince Shch. Aranean soldiers throw themselves into brutal confrontation at their generals' behest, dragging Ythaway further into bloodshed; the male Araneans decline direct involvement, but they're skilled saboteurs. And the public watches; while the media teams couldn't completely convince them of the cause and House Oujh still maintains its influence, they spare the Regency no love.

This is the fate of the weak.

Young has already sent Serket ahead with the mines' valuable deposits of Ymir. And, with the queen's position assured amidst all the gore, COST wants to evacuate as quickly as possible.

» THE TIME-STEP

The transfer begins like a vibrating heat on the collar bone, just a hum of sensation.

But the vibration spreads. Veteran recruits often refer to this phenomenon as "the buzz". The feeling builds, not unlike standing near a great engine or the wind-rattled branches of a massive tree. There is a long moment of motion sickness and you can't be sure if the world is shaking you from the inside out or the outside in. It may be better to close your eyes against the growing nausea, as the world blurs out of focus.

A star shines in the distance. You may hear the faint rustling of leaves. Some swear they hear voices in this moment, indistinct words echoing off nothingness. Others say they feel a touch of the divine, that the eyes of the eternal look down upon you. Ancient bones rattle just out of earshot, cold and brittle and nothing more than the suggestion of sound. Or maybe it's only an illusion, brought on by the powerful technology grafted into your skin.

One thing is for sure: One moment you are here and the next you are not.


WELCOME, GHOSTS

A siren blares in the distance, accompanied by unintelligible shouting and the low rumble of engines. The air is chill, no matter where you arrive; the ground beneath your feet is like ice if the soles of your shoes have worn too thin. Closer, there's the crackle of an air quality alert and the creak of swaying metal. A nearby terminal declares the date to be 10 XI, 6 SNL.

The time-step has scattered the cell throughout the districts of Lemuria.

@SCOUT | @ALL

now that i have more time
if you weren't briefed by your commander already, this is an emergency time-step, possible through the efforts on jhashch
for those of you with my cell, the sergeant and i won't be present, at least not physically; we can't be
you can contact us, but the regency carefully monitors this time stream so excessive communication through time and space could be dangerous

you can ask the scouts available for more information
@ASHOLE @STARBOY the two of you are the most accessible

Almost immediately, a second bulletin pops up.

@STARBOY | @ALL

are you shitting me

[And that's it, until five minutes later:]

lets get this out of the way
read the 1st attachment
its not done but dwi

if youre new read that and the 2nd attachment
and if youre looking for us for some bullshit reason
x marks the spot on the 3rd attachment
we got clothes and weapons since no one sent you in w shit
(lmao ofc)

[ATTACHMENT: lemuria.html, beginnersguidetodumbfuckery.html, map.png]

The files are succinct, establishing COST's mission and role as opposed to that of the Regency. The beginner's guide even addresses the side effects of BCE glitches and wiped memories, for newbies who don't remember joining COST. These scouts want you up to speed as quickly as possible, because fucking up could have dire consequences. And they also really don't want to explain it to you; this shit is not in their purview.

The map indicates a cellar in one of the low districts, identified as the Skhan District. If you're missing an outfit of your own, the scouts have several bins of secondhand clothing and more than their fair share of weaponry. It's a mismatched collection and far from the height of fashion (unless scavenger chic is in), but be careful: while most of the patches have been torn off, some clothes still bear the insignia of COST. You'll want to get rid of that.

POST-APOCALYPTIC WEAR IS IN THIS SEASON

Blasters load six to fifteen rounds, depending on model; none are larger than a shotgun. And, because of the dangers of porting in and out of Lemuria, the bolthole has its own revivicator installed. Which means if you die in Lemuria, you revive in Lemuria. It isn't as refined as BASE's rundown tech; chances are, when you wake up, you'll feel echoes of whatever killed you.

READ THE LEMURIA INFOPAGE.

» NEW RECRUITS.

New arrivals, here by virtue of the fourth wall, can arrive in one of two ways.

The first is as a fresh recruit, in COST-issued athletic underwear and holding whatever item you chose to bring. Hopefully your clothes and circumstances don't embarrass you too much, because you're stuck with them until you can rendezvous with a scout or steal your own.

The second way for fourth wall characters to arrive is as a seasoned member of another COST cell. Their assumed missions can be to your tastes, as fantastical or historical as you like. Need ideas? Feel free to read back through the game's logs and infopages for inspiration.


HIDE YOUR SHIT

Welcome to COST's little bolthole in Lemuria. It's a cramped space, a basement's basement in an abandoned factory overrun by squatters. The community doesn't make much notice of anyone moving through as a rule, so it's easy to weave by the masses huddled together in rags and find the long, dingy staircase, leading down, down, down to a padlocked door.

The padlock will twist and open as soon as you tap the corresponding app on your BCE. It automatically loaded when you got to Lemuria and reads FUCKINGPADLOCK.IO.

And then there's the bolthole. Dug into the ground, it's not unlike being in a submarine; it's certainly cramped enough. It could hold maybe four people, very uncomfortably.

It has a selection of security cameras and terminals on one end and the rest of the walls are decked with cabinets and drawers, all locked by various means. Some are traditional and some ask for eye scans or fingerprints or "identity samples", whatever that means.

There is a not insignificant number of empty takeout containers in one corner.

And, thanks to the staircase, you can at least hear whenever someone's coming.


GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER

You can't hide in the bolthole forever — the scouts, for one, will kick you out — and Lemuria is a restless city. Many of the low districts are overflowing, too many people packed in too small spaces. And everywhere is an air of discontent, evident from disgruntled muttering.

It's often hard to tell what's news and what's rumor, even surrounded by terminals with easy access to the Lemurian network. Fafnir is causing a ruckus at the city limits; maybe someone will ask Jörmungandr to "deal" with him. Terrapin Labs is dumping genetic waste in the sewers. The Crosslands are already drained dry and the war is a coverup. A red dragon ate someone near the upper districts. Sanaliel's advisor is a shape-shifter. The list goes on.

For now, your orders are to keep an ear to the ground and maintain a low profile. In general, the scouts would really like you not to make their lives any harder.

» THE ANTS GO MARCHING.

If you manage to find your way into the Pyramid District, the Lemurian upper class is having a military parade and even the lower rungs of society have dragged themselves to see it. The crowd is mixed, though it naturally segregates itself, with the richer moving away from the poorer. Myths fit themselves in where they can; faeries flit through the crowd and a few kappa saunter through, promising eternal blessings for a few spare cucumbers.

The parade itself is a magnificent thing to behold, if you like gaudy splendor and overzealous displays of wealth. Each regiment walks in unified steps, their battalion announced. At various points, the parade stops and the soldiers perform demonstrations of will and might, shooting rockets into the polluted fog of the sky, shredding dummies with advanced weaponry, and sparring with one another.

Occasionally, radicals break through the crowd, throwing smoke bombs that bleed colored mist and sting the eye. They shout slogans like "Freedom for the Crosslands!" and "Justice for Lemuria!" and "Food for the poor!" Sometimes they cause a riot. Sometimes they escape back into the crowd. Sometimes they get shot in the head.

The bodies are dragged away without much comment, like it's a common occurrence.

The parade continues.

» I PREDICT A RIOT.

If you wander into the low districts, you'll find something else entire. Some would argue it's a coincidence that there are bread riots the same day as a military parade. Some wouldn't.

Basic sustenance — rice, bread, beans, and lentils — have skyrocketed in price. Fueled by tax increases and missing supply vans, what it means is the poor are poorer. People slink back to their hovels to beg or barter. And the rest, well...

The rioters come prepared, stomping boots and guns fired into the sky. The majority are teenagers and young adults, commandeering food shops and carts, scaring away (or killing) the owners and giving out food for free (or at a lowered price). Other people try to stop them and the scuffle quickly becomes untenable, escalating into bloodier violence.

What do you do?

» THIS IS SO ILLEGAL.

Maybe you got involved in a riot. Maybe your fingers were a little sticky. Or maybe you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time; the police force is largely apathetic to crime in the low districts and reacts all too readily with violence in the upper districts.

Whatever the case, you've gotten yourself on the wrong side of the Lemurian law and you're handcuffed to (or sharing a cell with) a comrade-in-arms. Maybe it's fortunate that Lemuria has only just begun to distribute power nullification tech to deal with the influx of myths; most officers don't carry it and even fewer would think to use it on someone who looks human.

The guards make no comment, if asked how long they'll hold you. Other prisoners, filthy and dressed in rags, remark they've gone months without knowing.

Escape is really the only feasible option.

» SPECIAL DELIVERY.

If you left items behind at BASE, you can handwave filing a request and COST will deliver them to the bolthole. The scouts will send an alert if necessary and you can pick it up at any time. Just preferably sooner than later, because there isn't exactly a lot of space in that cellar.

Alternatively, if you're a veteran recruit, maybe you just received an unexpected delivery.

NAV. NETWORK LOGS OOC MEMES PLURK

Comments

[eruit]

As far as it goes, it is a better impression than most. Hanzo is simply not a man easily impressed or easily wrapped up in caring about others, either what he thinks of them or what they think of him. He doesn't have the time nor the emotional energy to care for strangers anymore; once, it had been his life's blood. Now? Now it is something meaningless, something he strives to forget even as the weight of expectation presses down on him like a jab to his spine.

It feels like fingers. A father's, perhaps, or a mother's, reminding him of posture, of formality, of politeness, pressing into the small of his back and leaving a bruise that carried deep into adulthood, one that stings even now.

When the omnic continues he considers walking away and ignoring him completely, but something catches his attention. There's something in his words, a whisper of their shared world, that makes him stop. He's not sure what it is, but Hanzo turns his head, almost glaring over his shoulder.

There are very few ways someone might know him, to know that Hanzo Shimada was from the same world as they themselves were. Either they had hired an assassin at some point, hired him, or they knew the Shimada family from Hanamura. He's not sure he is comfortable with either being in the hands of an omnic who seems unable to keep himself quiet, and he grits his teeth, hesitating for a moment, before he finally speaks.

"No. I have not. None save you." Apparently. "Who are you?"

[tekhartha]

Hanzo postpones his escape. The look he receives over that broad shoulder is nothing short of wintery, but anything is an improvement over Hanzo's back. As for the question... a straightforward response would not answer the question Zenyatta knows is really being asked: how do you know who I am?

There are too many ways to answer that one, depending on how close a call one wanted to have with lying- depending on how much Hanzo knew already, whether he knew that his brother was alive, whether he would even believe him. In his own timeline Genji had already shattered the illusion of his death, but, once again, who was to say what this Hanzo knew of that?

Zenyatta braces himself, and, silently, hopes that Genji will forgive him for the misstep he may take on his behalf.

"A former Shambali monk," he says, and each word is chosen with absolute care as he continues, after a moment, "and master to your brother, Genji."

Though he's barely audible above the din the world seems to recede, a beam of moonlight lancing through a gap in the clouds that spotlights them where they stand. Zenyatta does not doubt that he will be heard.

[eruit]

There's tension that floods Hanzo, making him stand up straighter, his back straight like wood has been shoved down between his fabric and his skin. There's no way to deny how on edge he is and there's something dark and dangerous in his gaze as he stares Zenyatta down.

He doesn't know how to react to the fact that this omnic knows him, recognises him, seems to know more of him than Hanzo is capable of allowing. There are ten years between himself and the last time he had truly considered Genji or his home, and to have it come back to him like this, so sharply, is like a slap to the face or a punch to his gut. He's not sure how best to deal with it and the instinct to flee is upon him before he can do anything else.

Master to your brother, Genji. His heart stops.

"Then you will have no place speaking with me." Why would anyone who knew Genji want to be around him? They must know what he did to Genji, what happened to them in the past, and he feels his skin prickle as new anxiety rushes over him. He takes a deep breath, taking a step forward, turning his back again.

"If you are truly a monk," his voice is clipped, short, dangerous. "Then you will know there is no point wasting time on me."

[tekhartha]

Dark clouds gather in those eyes, all suspicion and hostility that flashes back at him whenever Zenyatta meets them as if he were a lightning rod in a field. Genji's name sends a ripple across his surface and he steadies himself- but the storm does not break. There is no thunder, no explosion. If he is surprised to hear that his brother is alive he does not let it show on his face in the brief moments he remains facing the omnic.

Zenyatta does not back down.

"For such an intelligent man you made a great many assumptions, Hanzo." His voice is even, undemanding. In truth the accusation rankles a little in its sheer audacity, as if Hanzo were the arbiter of his time and attention, but it is hardly unexpected- and as the initial shock passes them both he sees the lines of his fear come together in his body.

No wonder he will not show his face. If he were Genji, Zenyatta would reach out to touch his shoulder and ground him. As it is, he keeps his hands to himself and stays put.

"Do you think," Zenyatta continues, almost amused, "that I am here to save you?"

[eruit]

Hanzo does not assume that Zenyatta might want to save him, that he might offer him redemption - he is doing what he can to earn that himself, to show that he is worth whatever forgiveness it appears that Genji is attempting to offer. He is doing that in his own way, choosing his own path for the first time in his life, and he does not need some monk appearing, saying that he is well aware of Genji and offering him anything.

He scoffs, shaking his head, strict and stern.

"I do not think you are here to save me, but you approach me with too much cordiality." To be approached like this, to be spoken to as if Zenyatta knows him, as if they are aware of one another. Hanzo knows nothing about him, recognises nothing of him, does not even know how he and Genji are connected beyond anything else.

He shifts, tense and unsure, moving from one foot to another before he finally manages to look at Zenyatta again. He looks pained, as if being here is physically torturing him, and he doesn't know what to do. He cannot be rude to someone who is close with his brother, but he can't stand the intimacy either.

"I do not care why you are here. You will have nothing to do with me."

[tekhartha]

Too much cordiality? There is much to be said there, much to be asked- that a friendly greeting really so intimate to Hanzo, who looks like a stray dog cornered in an alleyway, for one thing, that his discomfort is so acutely palpable that Zenyatta could almost cringe with it, so poorly does he wear it.

The dangerous edge to his bearing is blunted. He could push, and doubtless Hanzo would sooner flee than push back as hard as he might have done before.

But that is not what Zenyatta wants. After a long, silent moment, staring back into that wavering gaze with absolute defiance, his shoulders relax and he shakes his head with a long, heartfelt sigh.

"I will not apologise for my introduction," he says, "but nor will I force my presence upon you. There will be time for us to speak on better terms, if we are fortunate enough to cross paths once more."

He should stop there, Zenyatta knows. He has said enough. But as he turns he finds himself stopping, glancing back: "You are so hunted, my friend. I sincerely hope we do meet again."