agogelogs | DO BETTER,

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DO BETTER,

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

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That is assuming they're moving. You can just sit still and wait.

[They both look at the stairs, share a look between each other - usually rooftops are deathtraps if anyone were to attack, but then again, there they go, after a shrug. There was no other way but up, anyway. Mamoru slows at the landing, takes a breath - no killing intent from this floor, either.]

The silence or the visions?

[Asked with a snort. The elephant in the room was pink and wore a tutu.]

[ Rooftops might leave them exposed, but being so high up will also give them a good vantage point to see what's going on in the streets around them, so to Genji, it's worth the risk. Mamoru clearly feels the same way. ]

Both, I suppose! I was talking about the silence, but...

[ In just a split second, it happens. Genji glances over to Mamoru out of pure habit, and that's when the memory floods into his mind. It most likely slots into Genji's memory so flawlessly because it's not unfamiliar -- an intense clash of swords lit by the moon, with both men putting their all into the fight.

Not a fight between mortal enemies, but between two men who cared for each other. So that when blood was spilled, it wasn't anger or despair that followed, but pride. From a teacher to his student.

Genji doesn't fully realize he's stopped in his tracks, one hand pressed against the wall to steady himself. He shakes his head, trying to clear it, but the memory will remain for now. ]

Ah. I think you jinxed me.

[Mamoru's feet as he climbs the last steps seem to echo too much - the city has none of the white noise that makes it a city, no matter where or what dimension a person seems to be. It all lent itself to a quiet that was indeed eerie. As if a prey waiting for a predator to attack.

What exactly are they planning with this? is a thought that gets interrupted because he feels as if brushing against his shoulder blades, an undulation in Genji's voice that pulls at his gut.]

What's wrong? [He asks, turning and regarding him carefully. It can't be an EMP, or his own sunglasses would've blipped out of function. A sniper would've also triggered a firing origin in the system, as well as killing intent coming from the shooter, no matter how cold-blooded or far away they were. Mamoru's thoughts clash from possibilities before they stop short at what Genji had actually said.]

... memory.

[ It hadn't been Genji's intention to make Mamoru feel as if they were about to be attacked, although it's probably for the best that he's so vigilant. The memory-sharing seems to only be a side effect of everything else that's going on, but that doesn't mean it couldn't leave them vulnerable or open to attack.

Genji nods when Mamoru figures it out, then remembers that he needs to use his voice with him. ]

That's right. [ It's awkward, not knowing whether he should talk about it or if it would be more polite to simply act as if it never happened. ] I don't understand how sharing such a thing can even be possible.

[ No doubt Zenyatta would have some insight into it, although this might even be beyond his understanding. ]

[Mamoru shakes his head slowly, fingers around the handle of his sword moving just enough to click the lock of the sword in its confines closed.]

Ain’t an expert. [He mutters, looking around them and taking a slow, deep breath through his nostril. The area of this city could be worse, and the wind doesn’t pick up on sewage and trash laying about at this height. No killing intent, no smell of blood to coat the back of his throat. It seems like they’re safe for now.] But it’s messed up.

[It brings back the glimpses of memories that Mamoru had been capturing with Genji next to him. He’s counting his blessings for having trained his own thoughts the way he had. Alongside the fleeting image and sounds of the blonde woman - a doctor, wasn’t she? - there was also pain, the beginnings of something even deeper than anything Mamoru ever felt, that only made him grit his teeth even harder through his motions. Losing his sight, having been shot and cut throughout his life, that had been nothing compared to what Genji went through.

But then, between the pain, was the rage. Fitting so well against the moments that almost made his own body move out of his own will, fury so tightly coiled it would be the reason Genji would break, and not his injuries.] I’ve been getting them too. Feels like I’m prying.

I’ll be honest: the memories of you sedated are the ones I like less.

[ "Prying" is a good way of putting it, though they're also being forced to do so. It's ultimately Mamoru who breaks the awkwardness first, by making a direct reference to one of Genji's memories.

So it's of that time, when Genji had barely been in his right mind, completely unable to deal with what had been done to him. Maimed by his own brother -- he has to wonder if that detail has come through to Mamoru. ]

Ah. I'm sorry that you have to experience that, even if it's second-hand. It was not a good time.

[ More like the worst time of his life, but he probably doesn't need to tell Mamoru that, at this point. ]

I think I've only borrowed one from you so far. Your sensei seemed like a good man.

Not your fault. [Mamoru was about to say something. Something along the lines of how there were some - but only a few - similarities to when he lost his own sight; how each burn had been nothing compared to the utter insignificance of his actions that had led to them .

He could ask about how Genji managed to process all of that, now stored in Mamoru’s mind. The Genji in front of him seemed vastly different from the one in his head.

But then he mentions his sensei and it’s as if the word itself had manifested in front of him to punch all of the strength necessary to breathe out, to release the words on his tongue.

He smells blood, but it’s only his own memory of a palm on his cheek, slathering his face and neck in red. Live on...

Out of every memory he has, that was the last one he’d want anyone to know. Time healed all wounds except the ones you rub back alive every day to remember who he really was.

He is aware that the silence of the city became thicker between him and the cyborg. It felt like waddling through coursing water when Mamoru decides to turn on his heel, walk to the edge of the roof. He crouches, taps the cane to the wall so he can check the street below without peering at it. ] Seems like the street is clear.

Edited (Thanks for pressing enter for me phone 8|) 2018-09-29 23:22 (UTC)

[ There it is, the misstep that Genji had been working so hard to avoid. He should have known that someone killing their own master would be a difficult memory to bring up like this, but he'd only been trying to find some kind of middle ground and dispel a little of the awkwardness. As it turns out, he's only made things worse.

Mamoru clearly doesn't want to talk about it, and that's fine. It's not something Genji was supposed to know, and it doesn't feel right that he's learned of it without Mamoru specifically choosing to share it.

Genji follows him over to the edge of the roof. He can be Mamoru's eyes, at least, and he takes a few seconds to scan the street for any sign of movement. Thankfully, there's nothing. ]

It looks that way, yes. It feels as if there isn't a single living soul out there.

[ That's not actually the case, as there's plenty of people scattered around; they're just in a deep, deep sleep. Even then, there must be other refugees and Regency agents skulking around in other parts of the city. ]

[Mamoru snorts, and it's dry, scathing. He's still reining himself in from Genji's admission.] Why do you think people say "rest in peace"?

[Slumber and death were similar, in some ways. The disconnect of the world around the person asleep, the lack of responsibility it brings to the sleeper. Remembering those who died in his arms or in his stead, he had always been overwhelmed by the silence that followed their last breath, as if they took a little bit of the world with them. It's part of why Mamoru doesn't really kill people, no matter how despicable they are. He doesn't want those people to share the same space as the ones he couldn't have avoided to lose.

He makes to stand up, ready to jab a thumb over his shoulder, tell Genji to stay closer to the center of the infrastructure and avoid all angles where they can be spotted--

But the pain that seems to suddenly cut him in half only gives him the strength to grit his teeth, not to shout. He takes it back, the man beside him went through something that had nothing to do with when he lost his sight.

He grips the floor, still crouched, snarling out:] How the fuck did you not die?

[ There is a sort of peacefulness in death itself, but the way it comes about is the exact opposite. Genji has killed enough people to know that intimately, and he's always assumed that it's the same for Mamoru. Now that he's seen his reaction to what he did to his master, though, he has to reconsider that idea.

There's not much more to be done on the rooftop, and they are exposed the longer they linger, so Genji is already turning back toward Mamoru when he sees him go tense with pain and clutch onto the floor.

Before he can even ask anything, Mamoru barks out a question of his own that makes it quite clear what's going on. More memories, and of course only the unpleasant ones are being shared. ]

A question I've asked myself, many times. [ Genji responds in a quiet, somber sort of tone. He considers reaching out to grip Mamoru's shoulders, but decides that he should refrain from touch for now. ] I was put into the hands of very skilled doctors and scientists who were able to put me back together... but it took a lot of time, and a lot of pain on my end.

[ He would never want for anyone to experience it, even second-hand, and he only wishes he could stop this from happening. ] Maybe we should split up, until after this phenomenon passes.

[Mamoru shakes his head. The memories go from the peak of gut-wrenching pain to utter blackouts, a numbness that he can only interpret as Genji's own mind saving itself from being completely broken.

He could hear those voices. He could remember feeling new arms, new legs, the steam hissing out from whatever hydraulics were connected to his body.

There was rage lacing those moments together. It's almost as if Genji stayed alive out of spite. And besides that, while the pain, the depth of Genji's injuries, were anything but similar to Mamoru's own misadventure, there was something else there that was truly familiar to Mamoru.]

No. What's done is done, and sticking together is a valid strategy. We're easy to spot in these conditions. [He makes to stand up, using that familiarity to work on his thoughts, gather his bearings (and count his blessings). He takes a deep breath, and his voice comes steady, even if his jaw aches with the force he had been clenching it.] I'll deal with it. Let's head back inside.

[ This is only Genji's guess, but it seems like Mamoru equates moving away from him as the same as admitting defeat. If Genji had been able to endure all of that pain and suffering, then he should be able to manage it too. Genji still doesn't think anyone else should have to go through such a thing, but he doesn't know how to convince Mamoru to leave him. ]

Then where should we go next?

[ He lingers a few paces behind Mamoru as they walk back into the building, even though it would make more sense for him to take the lead. Not that he's ever wanted to make Mamoru feel like he's being coddled due to his blindness. ]

This building seems clear.

[ There are, of course, many more where this came from. There are far too few of them to actually check out the whole city, so the best they can do is look for the emergency situations like what originally brought them here. ]

[Stopping to focus, Mamoru hums to show he's listening to Genji. Painful or not, his memories are his own, and that Mamoru is experiencing them is not the man's fault. If anything, it makes his presence even more palpable. That Genji clung to a goal, despite its caliber, viciously enough to survive and turn him into the man he is today, it is impressive.

He tilts his head, mutters softly a word to turn on the dictation feature of the BCE. It's very low, but should be audible to Genji's sharp hearing. Whispers of warnings, communications that should be private but written in haste for everyone to see, status reports, the occasional joke. Mamoru skims them all fairly quickly - the fast stream of 'repeat' and 'skip' uttered quiet enough to not carry much - due to all this time using this technology.] There's heavy Regency activity. My advice would be to stay here for a while until it dies down. At this point, we're at a disadvantage.

[They must've known this was going to happen. They were fucking ready for it, he can't help but think as he turns just enough over his shoulder to see Genji's outline through his shades.]

If they do come in here, [a sharp grin, one that changes his voice to something just a little more jagged. It's actually not very different from the smile his sensei was wearing as he fell into a coma,] it's their loss.

[They could use the building's structure to their advantage. No matter how evolved or techy these Regency soldiers are, there are things that they simply cannot change - not really. And that's something that they can use.

So Mamoru looks forward again, takes in the staircase that spears through the floors, calculates angles, the velocity in which he's seen Regency agents move and how they can climb and go down the stairs. Which doors to use. With a neutral tone, he allows Genji something - not really a peace offering for invading into his own personal experiences, or at least it doesn't sound like it, but it's something.]

His name was Makabe, but people called him a Demon.

[ It's not a bad idea to check the network for other reports, and Genji stands by and listens to the various messages read off by the BCE, his hearing good enough that he doesn't have to get too close to Mamoru's chest to pick up on it. He doesn't mind waiting here until things blow over, though it could get awkward if all of the people in the apartment complex suddenly wake up. That's something they can deal with if it happens, though.

Both of them will be ready if the Regency brings the fight to them, and Genji responds to Mamoru's grin with a firm nod, forceful enough that Mamoru should be able to hear the movement and extrapolate from there. ]

They'll have picked the wrong people to pick a fight with, I think.

[ It seems that Mamoru is calculating the best place for them to hole up for now, and Genji has no problem with accepting his determination. His enhanced senses mean that he has that extra edge that will help him find the safest spot to wait.

Mamoru then shares a detail about his teacher -- some attempt to smooth over his reaction from earlier, perhaps. Genji doesn't think that it's necessary for Mamoru to explain anything, but saying as much might only make things more awkward. ]

A demon? What did he do to earn such a title?

It's not what he did. It's what he wouldn't do.

[Try as he might, it's very difficult to keep his voice from lilting into something nostalgic. Even climbing down the stairs to the master wall and under what he calculated would be the gravitational axis of the building would only shake the flow of what he's saying, but not the tone.

It's difficult, considering this had been the person he had closest to his father. What's done is done. He'll have time to regret not sounding neutral later, anyway.

Reaching a decent enough room - empty, lest whatever caused this mass slumber lift - he sits on a couch, grimacing at how soft the cushions were, making him fold a little too much than he felt necessary.

He pushes the bridge of his shades higher on his nose.] He was known for going to extreme measures to teach his students - but only because that's the way he learned it himself.

[ The nostalgic tone isn't something that Genji even thinks twice about. He's sure he'd sound much the same way if the topic of conversation shifted to his brother. There had been a time when thinking of Hanzo had only filled him with anger, but that's all simmered out and now all he wants is to repair things, somehow.

Granted, Mamoru speaks of his teacher in the past tense, and it seems that what Genji had gathered in that vision had been as it seemed. To have killed someone he cared about -- that can't be an easy thing to reconcile.

That alone seems to answer the question of 'extreme measures,' although there must be more to it than that.

After a moment of hesitation, Genji goes to join Mamoru on the couch, if on the other side, leaving some space between them. ]

So, what would he not do?

[Mamoru will always find that the quietude of Genji's motions will always betray him. Like finding an audible black hole, it's the lack of it that makes his presence stand out. He knows very few people are able to point it out, though. Like an actual black hole, it takes some machinery, knowledge of what you were looking for in the first place.

So it's unavoidable that his lip twitches when the cushion of the couch dips, rustles, but there's no sound associated with it. It's definitely something interesting to experience. ]

Nothing. [He removes his glasses, wipes the lenses with a neatly folded rag (from the Anzac trenches - where he first met this guy) he draws from his pocket.] You have it in your head, right? How he smiled for the sake of mastery. How he throws a starving dog a bone, knowing how it would follow him forever.

[He snorts, disbelieving, even if half hidden in the push of his now clean shades up the bridge of his nose.] I was supposed to inherit his dojo but... seems like he had a change of heart.

[ It's strange to see Mamoru remove his sunglasses, even if it's only for the brief moment it takes for him to clean them. That he would do that at all seems to indicate that he trusts Genji. He wouldn't be telling him this much about his past if that weren't the case, would he?

Mamoru refers to his past self as a 'starving dog,' but Genji hasn't borrowed any memories from his younger days. Still, if he'd been taken in by his master, then that gives some clue of how he'd grown up. It's not quite like how Zenyatta had taken Genji in, but it's a feeling he can relate to all the same. ]

Why's that? Or do you not know?

[ While it's hard to imagine Mamoru as the head of a dojo, Genji can't help but think he'd do well at it all the same. ]

I can only guess. [He shakes his head. He takes his time thinking about it. The last time actually sitting down and think about this, Makabe's reasons for summoning him for a midnight spar, everything that had led up to that, he had been sitting on the back seat of a police car, handcuffs on his wrists.

The image is faded with wear, with the time since he last saw anything, but it's there. The darkness of the car, the shouting of prosecutors and attorneys alike when he refused to say a thing. The blame a certain prodigy detective sent his way, calling him a murderer. ] He was a flag bearer of real combat - he would take no excuses, the bokken in your hands is supposed to be an actual, cutting sword. The rules in kendo were just suggestions - in real combat, there would be no rules, after all.

[Mamoru sighs, a frown weighing on his brow. Not even Igawa had known the full extent of this story, and they had been partners for years. Then again, it's not like he had actually seen what happened.] There's only so much you can learn by teaching, I guess.

[The hardest part, actually, was admitting that Makabe had been right.]

[ It's clear that Mamoru is putting real thought into this, that he's considering his response with proper care. All of that is no doubt due to the fact that he still has great respect for his master, regardless of how that relationship may have left scars on him.

He'd been able to see back then, hadn't he? That part of it only just now sinks in.

Mamoru's master had been correct -- there's a point where practice and sparring will only teach you so much. It's no substitute for actual combat, for feeling your opponent's killing intent, for knowing that one wrong move could lead to your end.

That doesn't mean that he should have traumatized his student to make that point, but that's not for Genji to comment on. There's a long pause, and then Genji shifts to look more directly at Mamoru, across the couch. ]

Thank you for telling me about it, Mamoru. I did not mean to speak out of turn.

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