DO BETTER,

[agogemod]

WHO? Everybody! Including fourth wall visitors.
WHAT? HRHR and swap shenanigans, among other things.
WHEN? 12 XII, Year 6 of Sanaliel's reign.
ANYTHING ELSE? Please warn for anything besides physical violence and move to a personal journal if it's beyond PG-13.

BE MORE, DO MORE;

check your blood pressure

READ THE LEMURIA INFOPAGE.

STRANGE THINGS ARE AFOOT

You've been in Lemuria a little while now, trying to fit in, assimilate, and survive. But on the dawn of the twelfth day of the twelfth month of Lemuria's third and final season, something strange happens.

You wake, but it's as though your mind isn't your own. Or maybe you stayed up all night and felt the change, in the AM hours before it's so late it becomes early. A mental stirring, a feeling that only gets worse as it goes on, no matter what you tried to do and how you tried to halt it. Whatever the case, you're in its sway: Lemuria has become a hive mind.

Your memories are no longer private. Your powers are no longer your own. The barrier between you and everyone else is gone as easy as thinking. In a flash, just looking at someone allows you to instantly understand their thoughts, or encourages their memories to suddenly become your memories, too. It's instantaneous, like the memory has always been there, like it truly happened for you. Once upon a time, it was tangible.

It isn't a perfect science, however. While the intention is there, what exactly you experience is fuzzier. Your scouts will eventually chalk up the inconsistency of the experience (why do some hold up better against it than others?) to individuality and the BCEs, but who knows, really.


IS ANYBODY OUT THERE?

Stranger still, when you venture out to see the rest of the city, the city is calm and silent, like a perfectly preserved relic or a dream. The average citizen is dead asleep, in their beds or in the streets, whether they collapsed walking, riding a hoverbike, or driving a vehicle.

There are accidents, eerily still besides smoke curling from the wreck, with no paramedics on the scene. When someone dies, they die as unaware as everyone around them.

Besides you, of course.

For anyone who dies, their memories remain out of reach; otherwise, you might very well see the past of any Lemurian citizen you pass. Even if their hopes and misfortunes don't survive with them for the night, they might survive with someone else.

In the midst of the sleeping city, you can try and help those in need. They won't wake up and you'll probably never get a thank you, but bandaging wounds sure would be nice of you.


A CITIZEN'S ADDRESS

Not long after the sun rises, a post goes up on the network:

@ASHOLE | @ALL

something got seriously fucked up holy shit
were doing our best to figure it out but honestly? it seems like some kind of technomagical intercurrent based on hypothetical thaumaturgic mnemomancy
uhhh in laymans terms somebodys fucking with memories but you knew that right?
the thing is theres somnomantic undercurrents as well
only thing i can figure for why were still awake and theyre not is because of the bces
they havent been invented yet, but theyre designed to protect us from things like the sleeping shit
so we arent being affected exactly the same way as the lemurians, either
but thats got its own problems because uh
you know how were undercover spies in a volatile period of time and shit
well we aint the only ones
the regency-to-be has guys hanging around here and they got bces too
vega's already run into a couple

be fucking careful
and for the love of GOD dont go to the bolthole
youll lead them right to us

ill update with better intel as i get it
i have some theories but i wanna run a few tests

I WANNA ROCK AND ROLL ALL NIGHT

So despite all the sleeping people and the horroresque quiet, you're not alone.

Walking around in broad daylight is a dead giveaway to Regency spies that you have a BCE. And they will attack. They're dressed as civilians and seem better prepared for the situation, lurking in the shadows and staying out of sight. Some of them may tail you for a very long time before waiting for the right moment to make a move. Some may leap out as soon as you reveal yourself. Each fights with their own style and aim to kill.

They're equipped largely with blasters similar to yours and they don't, for once, have power nullifies. They do have superhuman strength, speed, senses, and healing, so watch out.

Some may engage in conversation, but it's largely of the trashtalk variety. It's not impossible to have a genuine talk with one or two (feel free to NPC them as you like and ask if you need any specific information on something they would or wouldn't say, but really, it's up to you), but it is unlikely. They are consummate fighters.

They're trying to find the source of COST's boltholes around the city, and take out as many COST operatives as possible in the process. Why don't you return the favor?

Ooor maybe you lead them right to the bolthole. Somebody's always gotta be that guy.


I'M A BELIEVER

During all of this (and maybe despite it), there are missions. Their exact timing is up to you; while they take place around the hive mind overtaking Lemuria, they don't necessarily happen during it—barring, of course, the one where you save the day and bring down Fafnir.

You can use this event to your advantage or disadvantage, through gaining someone else's memories or knowledge, or adapting to a set of powers you haven't spent a lifetime honing. The Lemurian people are a silent wellspring of information; even the most oblivious has an intimate understanding of their home and outlying territories that COST can't replicate. And, well, an unconscious person is an easier target than a conscious one.

READ THE LEMURIA INFOPAGE.

NAV. NETWORK LOGS OOC MEMES PLURK

Comments

TEXTING.

[agogemod]

[@ASHOLE: Ashere can't be found in person, but feel free to reply to his shitty bulletin; he's a very diligent texter.]
[@STARBOY: Vega just wants to get this over and done with, but if you have questions, he'll answer them. Inasmuch as he ever does, anyway.]

@ASHOLE, sorry pel

[omniavincit]

>> @LOUISLAMOUR

Have you experienced anything like this before?

[ilinot]

yes im a consummate professional
whats your excuse

[omniavincit]

If I had one I'm afraid I don't remember it.

What kinds of tests?

cw for automobile accident injuries mentioned

[horsepowered]

A. Strange memories
[Chiron's memories are what he might personally consider a danger to COST. He is and isn't himself. He puts other Chiron at risk as more and more people can see flashes of the god Apollo with a young centaur, instructing the youth in art, in medicine, in music, in prophecy, in archery. A young thing growing stronger, stronger, stronger in all of it, until in turn roles are reversed.

The students blend together. Achilles with his green hair and keen eyes. Great Heracles with strength and attentiveness to spare. Asclepius with his thirst for knowledge and skilled hands, a healer if there was ever meant to be. Jason, Perseus, Ajax, all of them. All of them cycle through, across from a centaur who makes them better.

There are flashes of other things too. The lofty heights of Mount Pelion, the miles of olive trees there, a small home, a family with four children who have dedcided that they have to wrestle to see who rides on dad's shoulders versus who's stuck on the horse part. A pointless game, one that sees Chiron simply make suggestions for improving one's wrestling techniques.

Ancient Greece goes. Romania comes into focus, along with a young girl in a wheelchair who Chiron is quick to call Master. Their conversation is indistinct, but there is warmth and affection there too.

--

ooc: feel free to pick at a memory you're interested in and explore with it, or pm me for something more solid]


B. I'm out here
[In the churning current of the hivemind, it helps Chiron to have a task to focus on. Taking to the streets to help those who have fallen into this sleep at the worst possible times, falling by the wayside on the street or else crashing into something far more stationary than themselves is the best thing he can think of to accomplish that task.

It is very much a way of having one's head down, nose to the grindstone. All the moreso as he rips off the driver side door of a crashed vechile, throwing the metal aside to try and extract the injured passenger. (It is one of the times that being a Heroic Spirit has a true advantage) They're bent over at the wheel, bloodied, and Chiron can tell that there are multiple breaks to the legs when he sees how the metal has crumpled.

Extraction is the first step. With no one else around that he can see, or is even paying attention to, he rolls up his sleeve.]

Gods willing, this madness will be over soon.

C. ...And party every day
There is some raw satisfaction in using his hind legs to send a Regency agent flying across the street from where said agent has tried to jump Chiron from the side, hoping that the centaur wouldn't fight back as fiercely as he is. Every mission has been life-or-death, but this one is even more so.

But there is no sound of agent landing with a sickening thud on the sidewalk or cracking a bone. Instead what Chiron turns his head just in time to see is the Regency agent getting to their feet, having somehow managed to tuck and roll from a whopping kick.

With no one in sight and with no prying eyes, Chiron charges just as the agent begins to fire their blaster.

D. Wildcard
You know the deal.

HRHR closed

[horsepowered]

Daenerys.

Chiron pulls at the telepathic connection between himself and his Master, standing some half a mile away from where he has done the bulk of his misson's work. The thing requested of him, to ensure BCEs are never invented, was a mission made to express all the fury he had kept bottled up inside while dealing in the world of spiders.

As the text said. No way these assholes didn't figure out they were handling god bones.

Chiron had made a decision of his own upon recieving the briefing, one that was as cold as he had demanded his students be in the face of battle. Anyone involved with the lab and it's research could not survive the night. He coud persuade, and then years later, minds could be changed and the BCEs would still come into being, setting off a chain reaction.

There was no pride in the fact it meant killing others whose inventions did not have this intent at the start. There was irony in it too, given how the Regency approached the families of those who would later do harm to the empire. No justification could change that fact.

So Chiron went about his grim work. He broke into the lab first, using his spirit form to bypass all security. He destroyed nothing first, he instead found the names of all employees, their addresses, and went through the list. His face was long and drawn at the first act, sagging and getting more and more aged as the list grew shorter and shorter.

Most were asleep. Some were drunk. A few fought back, giving almost as good as Chiron was. There was a broken bone or two (healed quickly), and a few things that found their way into him that he hadn't had time to remove yet.

With all the work doe, the labs remained. Chiron burnt the research, the prototypes, all notes, all remaining material first in small, contained fires. (The future, apparently, still had metallic wastebaskets.)

There was only one thing left.

Daenerys. I need you to use one of the command seals.

[dorzalta]

The days pass by with her rallying those around her. It takes a delicate hand to organize those in her midst. To gather the leaders without drawing undue attention was a task in and of itself, seeing as neither she, nor Jon, had a name for themselves... or enough of one. There were no dragons to back her, only her fire.

It's during a lull in speaking with a man partaking in rather unpleasant business that Chiron speaks up. And his request--it has her brows furrowing, a note unhappiness hovering in her silence, before:

For what?

C

[doublejumps]

Genji has already had to learn the hard way that going out at all during the day is a good way to place his head on a platter for the Regency. He's managed to get away from them unscathed so far, and that's due in part to the sudden gaining of new and unexpected abilities that have helped him in a bind.

He doesn't even know where most of them came from, and they don't last long before they're replaced with something else. It's been quite an adjustment, especially when you can look at someone and end up with a new memory on top of it all.

Genji has learned his lesson, at least somewhat. He's staying inside buildings for the most part, only ducking through alleys or jumping across rooftops to traverse the sleeping city. Being high up also gives him a good vantage point of what's going on in the streets below, and the silence means that when there is some kind of commotion, it's obvious.

So when a fight starts between Chiron and a Regency agent, Genji has a bird's eye view of it from up above. He wants nothing more than to get down there instantly and help, and that's exactly what happens. He's on the roof one moment, then at Chiron's side the next, with no real understanding of how he got there. The Regency agent's shooting at them, and Genji gets his wakizashi up in time to deflect the shots, sending them right back at their foe.

"I thought you could use some help!" He doesn't know how he managed his flashy entrance, but he's going to make the most of it.

[horsepowered]

It is a hell of an entrance, one to be remarked upon after the whole fight is over. For the time being, Chiron can only do two things. Nod his head in recognition of Genji's appearance, and respond, "Appreciated. Let's see if this is easier than fighting spiders."

The agent dodged the returned bullets easily enough, and now cover is being provided by one of those low level walk downs that lead to basement based apartments. Chiron bolts for the area before any bullets can start flying, hooves carrying him quickly across the street.

"They're probably going to try and get into the building! What's on the other side of this?"

Genji came from above. He might have seen if there's a backyard behind the building, or simply more apartments. If the latter, there could be connected elements, or some other hidden passages.

Mams / ota

[prizeneck]

1. Hello? Is it Me You're Looking For? aka Is anybody out there

[Thanks, he hates this.

He barely nods at the COST member giving him a heads up about a person dangerously dangling on the edge of a windowsill. Probably had been leaning out for a smoke, or breathing some slightly-fresh-air, they're folded double along the edge and slowly moving towards a nasty fall. They both move quickly into the building - they need to get out of sight (hah) after all, avoid open spaces, as they're the only ones in that street standing and openly visible.

Mamoru is really, really trying to keep his temper in check. He couldn't care less about his own past. Dissect it for all he cared, it won't change a thing about how he deals with people. And the shock of these memories that don't belong to him is fine, they felt comfortable, casual - forgotten in the depth of the dark that's his mind and slowly floating back to a surface, like a smell he hasn't felt in a while. Knowledge was responsibility - a liability, if badly worn - and he can't afford to be more responsible for anyone.

Not here. Not anymore.

It's with his jaw locking tight that he kicks the door open, strides over and almost skids as he steps on a lighter - a smoke, really. Those things will kill you. He pulls on the person. And tries to not to grimace at the bad taste in his mouth when the Lemurian's dreams drift across his mind's eye.]

We should stay here a while, check if there are others. These aren't safe conditions.

2. Sweet Dreams Are Made of Cheese aka pick a card, pick any card aka This is where we can memshare aka [SPOILERS]

[Mamoru's memories seem to have a certain tendency to it - the search for some control in life, and life pretty much flipping him the bird in the worst possible way. Some memories are visually full, others are embedded in darkness. Others, in the same darkness, but with everything around Mamoru laid out in a red gridwork.

There's the decisiveness, the barely contained anger, some sadness, and a lot, a lot of guilt behind the harsh admonishment of a 13-year-old girl while she's sobbing her heart out facing a person sitting on the floor, giving their last breath. There's a lot of fighting, a lot of fear aimed towards him, glee at the times he sneaks up on a target, there's utter and complete darkness and the cold, cold, freezing time as he cuts something upon a burst of clarity"go, move, around, his arm; do it" and the strong scent of blood and the flood of a scream.

There's an outline of a little girl (the same from before), asking him to save her, "Until Death Do Us Part". There's that very same outline of that girl reaching at his sleeve and crying, asking him to kill her if she's a nuisance. The same girl hugging him to his chagrin and awkwardness; the outline of a young man - are those cornrows? - surrounded by screens, hunched over in worry while Mamoru tells him that he only had to say the word, and he'd kill the person who killed his sister. A bombshell of a woman winking at him while basically proposing to giving him a handjob and his blood rushing to his face for the first time in years.

Even in the memories with actual sight, they look fuzzy except a few details. There's the scent of freshly cut grass, the chill of a cold spring night, which is nothing considering the sudden do-or-die onslaught of the person Mamoru trusts the most and which he has to defend himself from in a moonlit spar. The smack of a proud, bloodied hand on his face and Mamoru's Master telling him to live on for mastery. Prison. The first time Mamoru was forced to be alone in the dark with his own thoughts. Chechnya. The encounter with a legendary hitman and the respect and admiration for him, the disgust at the real goal behind the militia he encounters. Luna, a woman wearing a balaclava - pale hair and lips glistening in the moon.

Heat. Heat surrounding his eyes, flooding his eyes. The gasping plea for a drug in his ears, and the cackle of a hunter waiting on this weakness. ]

3. You Gotta Fight For Your Right to Party aka wildcard

[This goes for the ones that replied to the plotting post and those who didn’t! Any other memory strike your fancy? Any other ideas? Shall we High Risk it? Go for it!]

1!

[doublejumps]

[ Really, Mamoru doesn't seem to need his help at all. He's the one who identified the person who was in danger, got them inside, and then pulled them into safety. Genji doesn't mind being here for extra support, especially if it turns out that a Regency agent finds them, but it's hard not to feel like his presence here is unneeded.

All the same, when Mamoru turns back toward him, Genji is quick with a nod. He doesn't mind being backup, and the two of them work well together. ]

We can search the rest of the building to see if there are others in uncompromising positions.

[ Genji doesn't feel as focused as he should, most likely due to the memories swimming through his head. Avoiding eye contact seems to be the easiest way to prevent one from popping up unexpectedly, which is easier to do with someone who's blind. ]

I know it will take more time, but we should stick together.

[prizeneck]

[He gives Genji a nod back. Mamoru does appreciate having Genji around. For all the stealth skills of his own, there's definitely something to be said about his agility and the way he doesn't make any noise when it's needed. He's more than capable, a strength on his own, and Mamoru has realized a while back that he's probably one of the few people in COST who, if push comes to shove, he could actually place his reliance upon.

He's just, at the moment, really bad at showing it.

It doesn't help that the glimpse of a memory - a vague shape of a woman with a melodic voice telling him [telling Genji] not to move too harshly. He recognizes the voice - she had been with COST a while, but never managed to interact at length with her. He hadn't realized her hair was of a pale halo of blonde, her eyes blue.

She had been similar to someone Mamoru once knew, just enough of a resemblance to get him to school his mind into avoiding the usual guttural reaction he has to anything related to Chechnya. The same way that shape had been but a glimmer, it was gone, replaced with something else.

But first, there are priorities. He will consider how much he hates this and how much Genji would respect something as precious as memories later when they're done making sure they're safe.] Let me lead. [He points at the tip of the walking cane he's holding.] I can use this to look around corners.

[He does it to demonstrate when he leaves the apartment - tip of the cane by the doorframe, and he nods at Genji to give him the clear.] Let's go.

Arthur | Inception

[pointedlook]

[[ ooc: memory/power swap comment over here for reference or if other folks want to jump in on it. ]]

i. strange things afoot

[ If there's one thing he's unfortunately used to, it's sharing ugly histories through a mental link. While dreamshare has safeguards in place, protocols to follow in order to keep the subconsciouses of each team member from smashing into each other, it doesn't always work like that. Especially if there's someone going through emotional upheaval.

Or if someone is carrying their guilt around like a ball and chain.

He can be thankful for the full Cobb Experience™, because then that means when he wakes up, head buzzing and mental boundaries lowered, his first instinct isn't to bolt or lose his shit. Instead he goes through his day, carefully avoiding eye contact once he figures out it seems to make those mental barriers even lower. ]

You know, we just came from spider planet, but this is one of the weirder things to happen, personally.

[ Well, it's definitely more uncomfortable. ]


ii. memshare

[ They're as clear as day, the memories. A sharp precision to them that reflects the mind that they come from. But some are a bit surreal; physics don't work the way they should, things are slightly off in certain places and too detailed in others. ]

a. [ You're in a private dining room. There's a wave of lights overhead in distinct lantern shapes, embellished with designs in iron. Along the walls are shoji-like screens in light gold silk, patterned with subtle and inky looking tree branches. In the middle of the room is a long black dining table, glossy top free of smudges or prints, all chairs pushed in neatly.

On one end of the room is a blond man with a manila envelope– Cobb, the memory supplies. Nearby is a Japanese man (Saito, the mark), vocalizing his disapproval. Beside Arthur are two bodyguards, holding him in place, and offset to them is a woman (Mal, who should be dead, who is dead and somehow here in this dream) with chin length hair that curls. In her hand is a gun and it's pointed at Arthur's temple. Her arm is steady.

Cobb puts his own gun down and slides it across the table, disarmed. Mal cocks the hammer back on her handgun. ]

"Ah, there's no there's no use threatening. I'm in a dream, right Mal?"

"That depends on what you're threatening. Killing him will just wake him up. But pain–" [ She shoots Arthur in the leg without looking away from Cobb. ]

"–pain is in the mind."


b. [ It's a warehouse, that's for certain. The inside is slightly musty, maybe from disuse. Scattered around are bits of abandoned furniture, scraps of paper and metal, broken glass. Windows stretch along two sides, the panes dirty and fogged. There's a large garage-looking door, one that pulls to the side to open. In the middle of the room, there are two cars parked, one in front of the other.

Cobb and Arthur are standing just outside of one of them, arguing. Saito's been shot and while it's a dream, they're heavily sedated. It means they won't wake up if they die in the dream– unprecedented. Instead, they'll drop into limbo, where they'll basically be stuck forever. Which means when the timer on the PASIV runs down and the should wake up, they'll essentially be vegetables.

And Cobb? Well, he simply didn't tell any of them this was a possibility. Gambling with their lives. ]


c. aka: the memory you've all been waiting for [ The hallway is a very neutral beige. Fairly lengthy, as most hotel hallways can be, and lined with darker wood doors, the handles modern. Arthur's struggling with another man in a suit, pinned against one of the walls. There's one more besuited man down the hall, looking ready for a fight.

Suddenly, the entire scene tips on its axis, as though it's being physically tilted to the side. Arthur's able to toss his attacker off of him, over the corner at the end of the hall. With gravity skewed, he falls down that corridor with a yell and Arthur has to climb up the edge and onto one of the sides with the doors to get back on even footing.

That other attacker, having gotten over his confusion at the shift, takes that as his cue to go for Arthur. The ensuing fight is dizzying, as the hallway continues to rotate, both men struggling to keep their feet under them.

More used to the shifting strangeness of physics in a dream, Arthur seems to have less of a problem with it, keeping his balance even as what counts as the "floor" cycles.

The fight continues in one of the rooms, door slammed open by the weight of two bodies hitting against it. Gravity still in flux, it's essentially a grapple between them, a loose handgun skittering off the bed and onto the floor, sliding around as the room moves. Eventually, Arthur gets it in hand, pulls the trigger, and the room stops its rotation, everything as still as the now-dead man beside him on the carpet. ]


iii. wildcard
[ Want to meet him while the rest of the city is asleep? Or maybe fight off some Regency agents together? Be my guest! Feel free to hit me on disco: vaulkner#5915 for plotting if needed. ]

iia! let's get this hrhr on the road

[omniavincit]

[ Safer to meet by night, and they're both mindful of such things: they agree on a restaurant storeroom, a place they've never been and are unlikely to revisit. As on Jhashch, it hasn't taken much for order to collapse—William might wonder about it, whether upheaval follows wherever COST goes, if he could just pin down his thoughts. If he could stop himself from plunging into other lives, his mind from blotting up other memories.

He's kind of a mess, he'd be the first to admit.

The room is dead silent, even as William steps forward. He tugs an earbud from one ear and the ragged tail-end of a breath is abruptly audible. ] That was a dream, wasn't it? [ Whatever he'd planned on saying, it's forgotten. He recalls the lacquered surface of the table: somehow the whole thing has that texture. A glance down at his own leg, then his gaze flicks to Arthur, sharp but not piercing. ] A memory of a dream?

YEEHAW

[pointedlook]

[ It's been a bit of a back and forth between the two of them, but not a bad one. If there's one thing that Arthur can give William credit for, it's that he pays attention to the details.

So, as planned, they meet in the storeroom of a restaurant after night falls. Not really a permanent solution, but one for the moment that serves them well.

There is one little bitty snag (ha). Like the aliens who'd eaten the coolant on the ship, Arthur's felt as though he's been dreamwalking. Dreamshare but awake and not everything is a dream. A lot of it, he thinks, are memories. One mind to the next and he has to be careful not to linger in spots too long, otherwise he ends up sinking into a memory. Getting lost in someone else's life.

He wonders if this is how Eames feels, when he forges.

More used to coming out of a dream (or memory) than most other people, he blinks himself back into the current, feeling a bit of twinge where he'd been shot. Or wait, not him, but William, who is looking at him sharply. Arthur follows his glance down to his leg, putting the puzzle pieces together. ]

Yes. It's not– [ How does he even start? ] –important, really.

HRHR - closed to jon and ashitaka

[mylawn]

i. save xici (hrhr - ashitaka)

[Just as it’s difficult to forget what happened to Little Xici, it’s equally difficult to forget happening upon Ashitaka performing a sort of makeshift funeral for her. It all seems like an eternity ago at this point, but despite the general unsanctioned quality of this particular mission, 76 thinks that undertaking it is the right thing to do. Undoing what the Regency did to one of the very first agents they met makes things feel like they’re coming full-circle.

76 goes over the mission parameters carefully—it seems straightforward enough, though all the details are a stark reminder of how intertwined everything is, and how one small change to the past can have ripple effects for thousands of years. Again, he finds himself wondering if they shouldn’t just leave well enough alone, but this is an opportunity for closure, given the fact that Xici’s erasure was one of his first introductions to time travel. It seems wrong to pass it up.

It also seems wrong to outright murder the man, even though that’s arguably where his skills are for a mission like this. They should try to do this diplomatically, he thinks.

Learning his route is easy enough, and he’s staked out nearby, waiting for Oighear to leave work. Finding him was the simple part—now it’s time to make a move.]

Its not too late to kidnap him.

[He’s just saying.]

ii. kill viero(hrhr - jon snow)

[This seems like something of a daunting task for only two of them, but 76 imagines they aren’t going to be able to get very far with a larger group. Discretion is paramount on an operation like this, but he can’t help but feel like they could use a little more firepower when it comes to actually assassinating the guy.

He’s also not sure this is the right thing to do, but it beats having to assassinate a child. 76 will leave that to someone with fewer moral compunctions. All he can really do (beyond hoping they pull this off, of course) is hope that someone worse doesn’t step in to fill the void.

Maybe it won’t matter, because they’re getting out of here either way. Maybe he’ll just spend the rest of his tenure at COST trying to clean up his own messes, spread out in infinitum across time and space.

Luckily, it’s easy to put most of that out of his head in favor of the immediate mission. Sneaking into the compound is their first obstacle, and he doubts they’re going to get through this bloodlessly. 76 watches the pattern of guards making their way back and forth, looking for the chink in the armor. There's a way in, he thinks, but they're going to have to be quick about it.]

You ready to move?

i

[lonelywar]

[Ashitaka had been no stranger to death, and the same was true for many if not most of them among COST's ranks, but what had happened to Little Xici had all the same haunted him. A harrowing marker for the depths of cruelty their enemy would stoop to, to go so far as to expunge someone from existence rather than curtail it before its natural conclusion. It had felt so profoundly wrong, and perhaps that was why it stuck with him - that, and how he hadn't managed to find any reason to stand against her, for she was just as much a slave to her circumstances as they were (though she was certainly more-so, given what the Empire was willing to do). She had had conviction and determination, and even when it was placed adversary to himself, he respected it.

So an opportunity to save her? It was an odd thought. Even after having threaded his way between the pathways of time on multiple occasions by this point, a part of Ashitaka still believes that what's done is done, especially when it had happened right in front of him. But if they had the chance, he would do it. And he was glad when the old soldier agreed to help.

Ashitaka does not want to murder this man either. It is not in his nature to feel such a thing appropriate. In his eyes, to save him from a future of serving such a terrible Empire was yet another good deed that they could do. But how was a different thing entirely. They would have to either find him a better alternative, or give him no choice but to find one, lest he incur a dire repercussion.

He glances towards 76 as he speaks up. Ashitaka's eyes are thoughtful.] You are right. [His gaze shifts once more toward the road, sifting through the people shuffling along it.] To what end? Do we intend to intimidate him into choosing another path?

[mylawn]

We've got to get him alone either way.

[76 will kill him if it comes to that, but even though he doesn't have the same way with words that he used to, convincing is a better alternative to more blood on his hands. Eventually this man will become some kind of war criminal, but punishing him for it before it even happens leaves a bad taste in his mouth. He knows more than most that due process is not something they can always afford, but killing someone before they even do the thing that's worth killing them over smacks a little too much of the Regency. They're supposed to be better than this, even if they are at war.

He imagines there are eyes everywhere in Lemuria, so having a conversation in private is going to be their first order of business. Well, second, if he counts stalking the guy on his commute an order of business.

It sounds like Ashitaka is in agreement that they should play softball first, but all of that hinges entirely on how convincing they can be.]

Are you feeling persuasive?

ii.

[northerndragon]

[It's easier to get one man in somewhere than ten, but at the same time, it's not very likely that one or two men may do the work of ten. Jon has recovered from the injuries that marked his last days in Jhashch and his first days in Lemuria, but even so, he could be more prepared. There had been a time in the last few days when he had thought that he would have some of Chiron's power to spend in killing the man who may become the Regent, but that time has passed, and he has only the skill of his hands again, not great bolts of force from his mind.

Still, 76 is very capable, a veteran, and Jon appreciates his calm presence. Qhorin Halfhand had died on Longclaw long ago, a fate 76 won't share, but there's something in the present company that reminds Jon of the man who had sent him among the Free Folk. Maybe it's the sense that if things go wrong, 76 will be dismayed rather than excitable.]

Ready.

Locks won't be a problem. Their computers won't be a problem, with the crystal bullets.

The men -- those may be a problem. None of your contacts were able to learn anything else? Mine found little and less. Nothing of what we wanted to know of the man himself that we didn't already know when we came here.

If we run into trouble, there's a fighter from my world who we can call. [He leaves out, for now, that the man is his father by blood.] Your healer friend -- she isn't far?

[His voice is low, hardly above a murmur. Its depth helps.]

Violence Jack (fourth wall!)

[jackedknife]

((Courtesy Spoiler Warning for ancient manga Devilman and Violence Jack. Memories come in two flavors of horrible apocalypse, but feel free to DM for something more specific!))

a. memshare

i. Devilman Flavor:

There are memories of another life, though they are barely defined. They come in the indiscernible flashes, incomplete strings of thought, and turbulent imagery of an amnesiac slowly regaining his past. Most of them are memories of demons, of transformation and a primordial soup of instinct, of a battle that destroyed the world, and - for those who recognize it - of Ryo Asuka.

Some of the memories are warm, despite the frightening danger Ryo often brought with him. Other glimpses are adversarial, burning sparks of conflict as the world itself begins to fall apart. Permeating some of the memories is a sense of deep betrayal. After all, it was that unseen truth of Ryo that was the root cause of everything that would come to pass.

ii. Violence Jack Flavor:

The Great Hellquake brings with it entire minutes of undulating, ground-roiling chaos. A shaking of the earth so devastating that it would transform a spawling metropolis into a broken island, lost to the world.

The aftermath would leave the ruins as a land without laws. One where the barrier between the supernatural and the mundane was quite porous. A terrible place where human nature itself was a stack of paper being eroded down one thin, frail sheet at a time. Jack was far from the only monster prowling the dusty remains of Kanto.

However, brutality wasn't the only thing that defined it. Despite the hard life after the apocalypse, those with just and gentle hearts sometimes managed to thrive in the face of it all, with stronger wills than any bandit that prowled the wastes.

b. punching party in the 7/11 (cw for injury descriptions)

The sounds of a fight erupt from an abandoned storefront in the lower districts. Broken glass, hails of gunfire, and other sounds of chaos send items tumbling through the dented doorframe and the shattered window grills. Bullets fly out between the metal bars, but the clip is interrupted by a grunt and the sound of a blade sinking through flesh and metal.

A look inside would reveal the result, and it was exactly what one would expect when a eight-foot-something beast-man and a Regency agent with superpowers find each other in an alley. Stealthy was not in the mix. Smashing your opponent into the wall multiple times was.

Jack was breathing heavily, his body slicked with sweat. He hadn't escaped unscathed - multiple bullet wounds dotted his chest - though that seemed to do little to sway the frenzied look in his eyes. He'd managed to trade the wounds for a decisive blow of his own, impaling his opponent right through the shoulder into the wall behind them with his equally large jackknife. The metal blade was wide enough to look like it belonged to a machete more than a knife.

The two look at each other as the struggle comes to a quiet pause. With the agent's gun out of hand, it was clear who would be receiving the death blow now. Except, that silence is interrupted by the noise of something outside. Jack pauses, tense like a coil, and glances over - was it back-up for his enemy? an ally? Or possibly something else?

and a memory for ryo!

[jackedknife]

"The moon..."

"...So beautiful, isn't it?"

The one thing that hadn't changed all those millions of years.

At least, that is the last thought that came to mind as your failing eyes stare upward. Whether or not it had actually been spoken aloud seems to be lost to you. Consciousness is tenuous, fading in and out with the view of the sea of stars. The sky is clear, absent of any evidence of civilization. With that observation comes the reminder that it is because the Earth itself is now dead.

All the while, a beautiful voice speaks in the background, but eyes and ears begin to fail too rapidly to make sense of what the words mean. Oblivion is quickly approaching - you would be dead soon.

Leaning above you is one last, baffling image: The face of a crying angel. The king of demons, who had surely seen thousands die before yourself, is now shedding tears for you. As much as you loathed them, your heart still had the strength to seize one last time and ask yourself why? Why, after all this...?

hrhr w/ mordred.

[trample]

How long ago was it? He could vividly remember finishing up the preparations for their midnight break-in, only to have it be just about a complete blunder by the end. It was a wonder it worked. He can't find the confidence to say the same about what's to come. Paris seemed so far away now.

Fortunately, it wasn't the city of Paris he had become attached to, it was the person he had made a mess with. And she had just arrived.

"You're late. Rendezvous was fifteen minutes ago." He says this, knowing full well she's not the type to care. His question afterwards, however, is tinged with concern. "Was something keeping you?"

[bloodings]

If Mordred has any qualms about killing a kid, she doesn't show it. She's grateful Eren seems to feel the same way — she imagines plenty in COST would disapprove of something so morally questionable, including her Master. But she's always been a hound, slaughtering would-be dissidents under the orders of the king. This is no different.

"Preparations," she shrugs, dismissing his concern. She's wearing her armour — it's hardly subtle, but when she can dematerialize, she doesn't care. "Don't worry. The mission is to kill a king. So, no matter what happens, I'll succeed. You can just take it easy."

It's pure arrogance, but also meant to be reassuring, in a way. He doesn't have to be the one to finish things off. Evidently, Mordred doesn't know what a huge weirdo he is yet.

[trample]

"There is no taking it easy anymore. You should know that by now."

He rebukes her arrogance with his unnerving calm. As always. Like there wasn't a single thing wrong with what they were about to do. With what they had to do. But by now, he didn't have it in him to argue any further. Instead, he takes a different approach, looking her dead in the eyes as he speaks.

"I'm glad you made it. Things are easier with you around." Whatever he meant by that was up to her to decide. He wastes no time in moving away from the topic. "We can't waste any more time. Let's get a move on. Do you know the way?"

hrhr; closed to ryuji

[bloodings]

[ Honestly, she's grateful to get out of the city. Mordred knows she's best utilized as a raging bull, pointed in the direction of something that needs to die; not left to sit idle and find her own trouble. And with Sanaliel dead, she needs an excuse to lie low for a while, somewhere away from the palace. Getting out to the crossroads simply makes sense, from a tactical standpoint.

What makes less sense is taking on a task that's clearly more in the wheelhouse of the other Saber here. But she'd never miss a chance to one-up Siegfried, and even before word get back of his (narrow) failure, she's in contact with Ryuji to enact their own assault on Jormungandr. Call it a palette-cleanser, after the Complex Moral Issues of killing a kid... which she cared nothing about, but details. ]

Before we start... I actually know a little about this snake bastard, thanks to the Holy Grail. He's the son of a god and a giantess, big enough to wrap around the whole world. Supposedly, him and the lightning guy are supposed to kill each other at some point. ... Well, who knows if it's the same here, but it's something to keep in mind. It's a shame we don't have a big hammer.

[ Her knowledge of Thor may be a little bit lacking outside of the basics. Regardless, Mordred looks at her Master, and she smiles. Not the smile full of bloodlust that she wears during battle, but the contented one of a knight traveling with some great friend. ]

More importantly, Master. This is your first time facing a phantasmal creature. Normally, I'd say to just leave things to me, but... you've grown stronger. I'm certain this battle will be no problem for you.

[ She's not one for stroking his ego needlessly — she's crushed it far more times than she's propped it up. It's just that after watching Ryuji struggle against his own limits for so long, for his own sake and for hers, he deserves credit where it's due. Servants have already reached the end of their growth; what motivates her now is seeing him grow, and Mordred has more respect for her weak, stupid, foolish Master, than almost anyone else in the world. ]