Scene #9531: APSIONIC FACTOR - 36 Hours After Event (4)

Owner	Pose
Flamel Parsons	SOMETIME IN THE FUTURE... Letters are still being exchanged... To the Director of Project Mystic, Unprofessional and deliberate obstruction of an ongoing IPAR investigation, Foundation investigation, Paladin investigation, and now a Concord investigation simultaneously, does not benefit Project Mystic. It does not benefit its team members. It certainly does not benefit the Psychonauts as a whole. The office of the International Psychic Affairs Bureau as a whole strongly reminds you that excessively emotional responses are just as much a problem for you in the context of an investigation by legislative bodies, where contempt of this sort carries greater risks. You know what information we want. I need a record of stakeholders and funding sources that were known to be aware of the Truth Phenomenon. I need a list of the names of people who knew what would happen. And I need a list of the names of people who took advantage of the Truth Phenomenon afterwards. You possess the knowledge to give me all of these, and you certainly lack the necessary standing to obstruct me from having them. Yours, Director Deems, International Psychic Affairs Regulation Bureau
Flamel Parsons	THE QUARRY It has been almost two days since the containment breach. It's not that food and water wasn't available, it's that there's a number of mouths to feed. It's not that heat wasn't available, it's that everywhere in this building has a broken door, a smashed window, something to let in the cold somewhere. It's not that radios are still isolated at this stage, it's that rescue efforts are easily lost in a blizzard and become victims of the incident themselves. It's not that the power wasn't working, it's that emergency backup generators just weren't enough. There'd been one or two lighter "waves" of Door activity. A rare accidental incitement or two, as well, when someone slammed a door too hard. Nothing as strong or intense as the last time, but they'd been good chances for everyone to notice and record how everything worked: The Doors rumbled, rattled, knocked, or slammed to warn, before opening if given enough room. A person had to be near to stop them, but structures, locks, light, or barricades could improve the chances of keeping a Door closed, and the early warning system provided by UPE-892 would often start strumming up with at least two minute's worth of warning. There'd been plenty of time to document more anomalies too. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UPE-1026: Social Projectors Classification: PRS-3 Containment Protocol: Uncontained. This element occurs in Collective Unconscious regions associated with The City and have fully colonized the region. Must be deprived of access to UPE-015 when moving beyond that area, in order to contain expansion. Description: UPE-1026 resembles a humanoid constructed out of common office equipment, typically with excessively long limbs and a head formed out of a projector, printer, holo-emitter, screen, whiteboard, royally certified decree scroll, or any other device or object capable of similar "representation" of social forces. Typically territorial, potentially violently, both towards other UPEs and towards expeditionary forces. UPE-1026-A, UPE-1026-B, and UPE-1026-C can be extracted from their bodies using psychic reading methods or after correct butchering processes are followed (see report Shinra-0056). The glands resemble markers or liquid-to-paper applicators. UPE-1026-A "Highlighter", UPE-1026-B "Whiteout", and UPE-1026-C "Sharpie" exhibit entirely novel chemistry and mechanical engineering applications associated with emphasis or elimination of key electromechanical processes. ... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UPE-1396: Comforting Thought Classification: ANA-2 Description: ...extremely rare due to the circumstances of its creation and challenges to survival. When placed on or near sleeping arrangements, and appropriately guarded from smaller harms, UPE-1396's positive energy field projection can suppress dangerous phenomena such as spatial breaches, supernatural tactical incursions, or Door Storms within a radius of up to 27 feet. ... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Flamel Parsons	For a while, UPE-892 had been thankfully keeping to a tone of midday-survival-activities, emitting a campfireish accoustic song which had been experimentally determined to be its baseline "daytime activity" tune (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OJtDckReWYE&t=12s). But during an inauspicious hour of midday survivalism, a short, intense rumble had swept through the building. And this time, no Doors were slamming, but... the power flickered once, suddenly. That was when a voice rushed onto the radio and the PA system. "--power, think my generators just gave out." Otto Mentallis's familiar voice mutters. "Don't have any more spare fuels, power cores, anything like that on the grounds. Listen to me, we need some kind of power and it needs scale for the whole Motherlobe. If you're hearing this message, get through one of those Doors into the Collective Unconscious! And get something out of there that'll keep the lights on. Now, I don't like those Anomalies, but if you--" The 'Lobe goes dark. Lights, door power, elevators. All of it. UPE-892 switches: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-QnlnUCgtN0
Flamel Parsons	THE MOTHERLOBE THE ATRIUM Kramer scowls at the PA speaker, tapping it telekinetically with one big hand. Crenshaw is scratching a cheek and frowning, pouring over a map. Both have cold-weather gear now, formed out of UPE-001 jacket-cloth lined with UPE-002 fur, courtesy of Hiromi's hunting and put together with some slap-dash duct-tape work (unless someone here has some decent sewing skills). "If one of you didn't bring a facility-grade generator-transformer, that's the only option to deal with this outage I can see going forward." Crenshaw says, with concern. "I took a peek out the skylight before those tall guys could see me. There's a door in the Quarry, around here," He points at a spot between the Motherlobe and Otto's lab. "And one of the powered platforms was working right next to it. Kramer, can you check there?" Agent Kramer stops tapping the PA speaker, sighs, and zones out telepathically -- a translucent psychic camera exits her head, and flies off. A few minutes later, she's hovering around a Door, which does indeed seem to have a powered platform floating under it, just out on the frozen lake. "Looks like it works to me." She grumbles, uncertainly. "But, look, should we really be doing more Collective Unconscious expeditions now of all times?" "There's people here who will freeze and die if we don't." Crenshaw points out to her, tensely. "Parsons' expeditions weren't perfect, but they proved we can get the things we need from the other side. And honestly, I'd love some more water and food too." "You know, same here, Crenny, but maybe the exact same thing that caused this problem in the first place isn't what we should be doing to solve it." Kramer says as she snaps her fingers and disperses the camera. "Doesn't make sense to tie one arm behind our backs fighting for survival." "Well, maybe it doesn't make sense to keep digging down to get out of a hole..." "Have any better ideas for how to get power back on, Krame?" "Anything else in the world. Dig up." "Specific." "...No. But those expeditions are dangerous." THE QUARRY QUARRY LAKE That's why they're bundled up and headed towards that door, struggling over thickly frozen water through the blizzard -- the same one that Otto Mentallis just identified as a probable source of something to solve the power issues, using the limited energy of his backup generators and some complex psychoradar engineering. A signal was sent out with coordinates to those still at the Auditor camp as well, and obviously anyone right there with Mentallis, given that they could well benefit from some of that... But there's just one thing though: The doorframe is dark black, with deep blue accents, and slowly drips a thick ichor. The door itself set into the frame is checkered white and black, in a chessboard-diamond pattern. When people approach, there's someone barely visible through the snow: a figure like a young woman whose malnourishment deprived her of any growth spurt, lacking any cold-weather clothing (or possibly clothing at all). Her flapper cut flutters in the wind. She kicks her feet while she sits at the edge of the floating platform before standing up, opening it, and stepping inside. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UPE-1929: Survival Instinct Classification: ANA-6 ... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rufus Shinra	THE ATRIUM "You're welcome to take what parts and equipment I've been shipping in, but no, nothing that could handle the whole facility," says Rufus. So he's been stuck here for a day and a half now. That's fine! It's not like it's been a whole week. And if anything, after the days of dark and light at Lobotomy Corporation, he's gotten more used to sleeping in places that aren't strictly beds. And right now, none of the other elites are trying to kill him, so he has that going for him as well. "And it's fine- taking things out caused instabilities to the gate, not to the facility or... you know, reality. And it all stopped once we were able to shore up the psychogate with some extra energies, and those instabilities became less frequent as well." He pulls out a case of elemental materia. "Here, if you're coming with- the expeditions are dangerous, but it's not like we won't be well-armed. Go and attach one of these to..." He pauses. "Uh, you guys don't carry weapons... to your sunglasses or goggles or whatever. I'm pretty sure that'll work."
Hiromi	36 Hours Cold and hunger are among the things that have no visible effect on the Archwolf, together with the need for sleep -- though she does appear to rest at times, making the last unclear. There are those who've observed her eating, but not since for the past two days. Both have cold-weather gear now, formed out of UPE-001 jacket-cloth lined with UPE-002 fur, courtesy of Hiromi's hunting... 'Well, maybe it doesn't make sense to keep digging down to get out of a hole...' -- struggling over thickly frozen water through the blizzard -- Hunting has been one activity occupying the Archwolf, but there's another important thing she's been working on. Digging down is exactly how one deals with a blizzard, and she's spent the necessary time finding a sufficient source of earth and stone, digging out near the lake and beneath the snow, to bring it back to the Motherlobe. 'Bringing it back' means, here, that she slowly retraces her steps toward the atrium, and the soil and rock follows around her like a cross between a gentle avalanche and vines growing in time-lapse. The outside door she'd used is stuck open thanks to sheets of stone, but the final result on temperature exchange, when she completes the wind-baffling winding passage, is positive. Stone and rockier soil may be more difficult for others to mold, but mere 'packed earth' is within ordinary human (and telekinetic nudging) means, allowing for plentiful and -- very importantly, fully weatherproof -- construction material, sized better for the -- as is the obvious solution to a wolf -- possibility of warming through gathered bodies, in the absence of generator power. Still, it won't be quite as comfortable for those used to certain civilized and urban amenities. Not unless they enter into a pact with the Archwolf, which she hasn't actually offered to anyone here. The same openings that improve warmth retention also make it more difficult to drag furniture around through affected areas.
Timekeeper	Upon contact with Ahn, Vertin absorbed her into a consolidated trio along with Regulus in order to better delegate and communicate roles and needs to the entire group. Between Regulus's technological aptitude, Ahn's facility survival skills, and both of their extreme willingness to not be the one in charge, Vertin softly establishes herself as the organizer of their little temporary community. Primarily, her role is to make decisive action and assign specific roles, diffusing arguments and keeping everyone in motion, rather than asserting her word as commands. That means organizing expeditions, for the mundane as well as the astral. Crenshaw, Ahn, and Aika were sent to retrieve UPE-892-- the mysterious automatically-strumming guitar TTT spotted-- from Flamel's office for early warnings, while the rest were asked to scavenge for materials that would allow Regulus to weld shut some of the open-air punctures to the blizzard. The base, such as it is, unfolds under Ahn's direction, and after over a day here, it's inevitable that Vertin organizes sleeping shifts. Thirty-six hours in, though, and they haven't taken one themselves, instead popping an acrid-sweet smelling candy in their mouth every few hours while bags under their eyes darken. "Listen to me, we need some kind of power and it needs scale for the whole Motherlobe." Vertin was halfway dozing off while standing up, arms folded across their chest while they leaned up against the back of one of the Atrium base's couches, when the PA system comes on. Their eyes blink open as if they weren't asleep at all, tiredly reaching down to put their hat back on and hopping back into planning without a hitch. "If one of you didn't bring a facility-grade generator-transformer," Vertin, who normally has precisely exactly that carried by her side at all times, nods. "I agree. Trapped as we are, there's little else we can control at the moment besides our own survival. We'll have to focus on that above everything else, even if that means relying on what caused the disaster in the first place." Vertin had a coat coming into this, so when venturing out into the blizzard, they don't need one of the cobbled together survival jackets, but that coat hasn't lasted this one unscathed. A pyrokinesis accident crumbled the fur around the collar into ash, and a patch from UPE-001 repairs a cut that was torn in the side from broken metal. Briefing happens along the way; waiting in the atrium just means letting it gradually approach the blizzard's temperature without doing anything about it. "What we know is that the Psychoportals lead to instances of the Collective Unconscious defined by a distorted vision of some world's average psyche or its predominant emotional fixations. That means that anyone familiar with the worlds' psychology will need to inform us on the nature of the world if they recognize it." She glances towards the two Psychonauts with them, prompting them to elaborate if they have anything to add, or to conveniently pull out a document that lays out every world's Collective Unconscious that they've just been carrying this whole time. "Until we're sure of the specifics, keep the basics in mind. Stay together, stay cautious, and don't trust anything to be as it appears to be." The Foundation pattern on the door makes Vertin hesitate as soon as they see it. What breaks their hesitation is the anomaly that slips through the door ahead of the group. A sharp inhalation in air cold enough to hurt their lungs: "Schneider?"
Vantablitz Remnants	Thirty-six hours is a lot longer than Ahn would like to be away from a hot shower and a comfortable bed, but it's not longer than she's gone before. Even somewhat recently, in her shut-in life, she's spent several days at a time down from the mountain. Sure that was in a completely and totally different environment, but it counts! Psychologically! So she's not panicking or losing her mind about it just yet. The worst part by far is that she has to do this with a bunch of other people around, a couple of whom are reassuring presences whilst the rest just stress her out; partly because she feels obligated to look after them, and partly for the relevant lack of privacy. Proud of the surprisingly sturdy (if still elementally shitty) little lodge now in the atrium, courtesy mostly of herself, Ahn has spent more than her fair share of time cranking the hand-generator to keep the electric stove warm enough for people inside to tolerate, and perhaps even sleep through, the cold. Radiator coils will make the job much more efficient, and power storage will help tremendously with improving labour efficiency, so they're the sticky notes she's double-underlined. At some point, she'd unrolled her own sleeping bag from that stupid backpack, snuggled up on the big sofa, and passed out for a while herself. She pitches in where she can to use the supplies from the Noodle Bowl to feed everyone a meal after, and isn't half-bad at it. Her greatest triumph so far has been capturing the Comforting Thought that'd first approached her, officially nicknamed Cún Con (according to her), which she has since kept at base (away from the stove) and more or less gave it the sleeping bag as bedding too (once she has goofy-looking pen to keep it in). Nicknaming the guitar 'Mister Wonderwall', she has tried speaking to it to establish playlisting possibilities, but otherwise seems to regard it very fondly, being glad she didn't have to try and capture it too. The music does a lot for her nerves, oddly. She opines at one point that she should pack a little walkman in the future. God only knows where she'll find space. Most of her free time besides those concerns has been spent conferring with Vertin, not just filling out her notebook with the Timekeeper's observations, but jotting down notes about her time 'undercover' to catch them up on the Psychogate phenomenon, as well as planning out a longer form list of steps she can think of to bootstrap this shitty situation into one where they might have free run of the facility, in terms of procurable technology, maps, work shifts, and where to probably find various resources. In the present, Ahn has to reluctantly take Crenshaw's side; not out of any particular sense of practicality, but after Kramer says something that strikes her in a way that makes her squirm in place. 'Well, maybe it doesn't make sense to keep digging down to get out of a hole...' "Sorry, but it's not like that. Getting to safety isn't as easy as just always going in the safest direction. When nothing at all is working like it's supposed to, you kinda . . . just have to pick something you need and then do whatever you can to get it. People die from a lot of safe choices that added up."
Hiromi	THE ATRIUM '...No. But those expeditions are dangerous.' "Dig up, dig forward. Strike with every claw. Be wary. Earth crushes the weak and unwise. Smallness is small strength. Are you clever? Find the small paths." Hiromi's use of vocal speech is more questionably helpful, without time spent deciphering. 'Uh, you guys don't carry weapons... to your sunglasses or goggles or whatever. I'm pretty sure that'll work.' Though continuing to simply let herself be covered in snow and let it fall off on its own, Hiromi gives a faint, accepting/approving huff that others make use of the materia as she walks past. QUARRY LAKE She kicks her feet while she sits at the edge of the floating platform before standing up, opening it, and stepping inside. Hiromi's speed increases, transforming in-motion to land on four feet, a dark wolf of a size that seems almost as if she wouldn't fit through the door, still wearing her unringing bells and ritual ropes. She bounds up to the door as if to charge through, but pauses, puts snout to the snow, and takes moderate caution in the last moment, whether to be sure she's not stepping into an abyss or to be sure she doesn't lose a trail.
Aika Rosewater	The passage of time seems a bit kinder to Aika, if one is willing to ignore the accumulating cuts and nicks on her suit, patched with the material Hiromi'd helped gather. Grime and dirt from the fights and from the manual labor seem to go away when she withdraws away from the group for longer than fifteen minutes without a task to get done, all the while her hair and tail remain quite nice considering. The last chunk of time was mostly used for manual labor, after retrieving the guitar, in fact; whether that meant helping Hiromi (who likely didn't need the help), or even just bringing in huge quantities of snow and ice to make more water out of-- or just moving furniture. Lighting fires and melting snow is also pretty trivial with her around, so they can save a bit on power just using her flames instead of the stoves-- a gift she was more than willing to share. If anyone took her up on the offer, it comes with the same faded-silver tattoos she seems to have, that flow a bit like water across the whole body, with a bit of a personal touch she could never predict. Tattoos that light up a bright blue-silver, when using the flames. It's not even hard to apply; she does it with a touch, pointedly taking her gloves off for that and that only. With a bit of a lull in all that, Aika was taking a whole ten minutes to rest up, somewhere in the vicinity of UPE-892, curled up into a little pink and white ball of fluff (as a cat) and just vibing. "And it's fine- taking things out caused instabilities to the gate, not to the facility or... you know, reality." "If it weren't kind of one of our only options right now I'd firmly oppose going to mess with that kind of stuff," she idly notes, because she's still displeased with Rufus' demeanor, "But when in Rome..." It really wasn't as if they had many options.
Vantablitz Remnants	THE QUARRY: Ahn doesn't really want to go to a quarry. Her reasoning is "It sounds menacing, right?" and looking around shifty-style for support. Unfortunately she had also supported doing whatever it takes to get a generator, so she ends up trundling out there anyways. She drops little chemical lights as she goes, which don't seem to be pre-packaged, filled with some yellowish brackish goop that she shakes before cracking instead. They're also, like, unpleasantly warm. 'Schneider?' "Is that someone you know?" Ahn asks Vertin at the threshold. The black goop already gives her the heebie jeebies, so she takes a second look to squint at the checkerboard pattern and add up one plus one about Vertin's suitcase. She looks at them with an expression of grave commiseration next, placing her hand on their shoulder and saying "Ouf. I'm sorry. Maybe someone else will come up?", having absolutely mistaken part of the premise here. 'Uh, you guys don't carry weapons...' Well, he was talking to the Agents, but now Ahn is back to fussing over Vertin again. "Do you, like, cast magic spells for protection?" She asks this while slowly reaching into her jacket and withdrawing a military pistol from an underarm holster. 'But when in Rome...' "What?" At the door, Ahn first throws one of her chemical lights through to see what becomes of it, then starts unwinding synthetic climbing rope and nailing it into the rock, looping it around herself and loosely securing it with a single clip. She goes over the edge holding on to it, 'pullable back-to' if it well and truly sucks, but otherwise she plans to coil up the rest of the length on the other side for return.
Regulus	Regulus is honestly happy to be given roles and jobs that suit her talents without having to either fight for them or guess at them. For a freedom loving pirate, she takes to minion work pretty well when Vertin is the minion master but--hey--her example of an ideal First Mate is APPLe so she's probably trying to emulate him to some extent. Regulus CAN take charge in certain situations, sure, but when it's a deep survival scenario where one false move can spell the end for everyone--it makes sense for her to leave it to cooler heads. When something requires a rabblerousing troublemaker? Well that's when you can expect Regulus to lead the charge. Regulus's portable record player burbles as she works. o/~ Will I live tomorrow? Well I just can't say Will I live tomorrow? Well I just can't say But I know for sure I don't live today o/~ It's not exactly one of Jimi Hendrix's happier songs. But the music helps Regulus work and stay focused on work that isn't exactly exciting but decidedly very necessary to do. At least she's keeping the volume pretty low. She has gone out periodically herself to bring back materials, usually materials like that copper wiring Ahn asked for, but has otherwise spent time working out in the little home base. Regulus likes to be comfy. So she's doing what she can to make this place not just survivable, but livable. She's stolen cushions and pillows from outside the base as well from elsewhere in the Motherlobe. "Well a pirate isn't afraid of danger." Regulus, who is afraid of danger, says. "But uh--we're actually going out all that way?" Regulus has been periodically warming herself up with her Light arcanum, occasionally just running it over her own body. "We don't exactly know if those places have, like, ... breathing conditions, do we?" But she hesitates and gives Vertin a nod as she-- ''Schneider?'' Regulus jumps and spins around and says, "Don't shoot or stab Regulus--!" but then she sees her just going inside before them. Regulus blinks once, then looks at Vertin anxiously, relieved that the Foundation isn't here to ask questions about that. "It's probably--uh--just another Anomaly. Probably best to avoid--"
Tamiel Luxis	Tamiel was found not far from the quarry--having to be dragged in, immobile, out of the blizzard--if only for the sentiments of those who might want to recover the body. She must have been caught outside in the cold and been out there for hours, it seemed--and those who didn't have the ability to see deeper would have little reason to hope for more than that. Once pulled into the warmth, however things began to look a little different. Her wings flicked, first. A sort of faltering, involuntary twitch. Then her fingers. After a great deal of shivering and recovering, Tamiel was upright and moving, like an esoteric bug thawing to wake from a season's hibernation, offering healing light to any wounds--or bits of frostbite to anyone inclined to accept it. "...That means that anyone familiar with the worlds' psychology will need to inform us on the nature of the world if they recognize it..." "That's--" Tamiel sneezes. Rubbing her hands together for a little warmth in them. "--That makes sense...A look into a world's z...z...zeitgeist." Her sentence was interrupted by a full body shiver. "If someone gets hurt, I can help fix it...And I'm." She breathed into her hands. "H-hard to kill..."
Aika Rosewater	"What?" "You've never heard that before?" the cat perks her head up, before finally standing, doing a long stretch, and poofing back into human form (if you can ignore the ears and tail) with a silvery-blue flame-like shimmer. "It just means if you're stuck somewhere, you may as well do as they do. And if we're stuck here then we probably can't avoid using the facility. Even if it's..." She raises a hand, in a mix of dismissiveness and just wobbling her hand up to wobble it. "Don't like it, yeah?" The bottom line was, quarry time. Quarry! Aika doesn't hesitate to offer to take the lead, though Hiromi speeds on ahead-- and then pauses at the dripping door, all the while Ahn tosses in some lights and starts preparing rope. Much more directly, Aika simply approaches the doorway and gives it the 'ol poke with a finger. If her hand comes back out without the gloves shredded or eaten away somehow then it's surely Safe Enough. "This place is so..." She struggles for the exact word she wants. So instead she focuses on: "Don't shoot or stab Regulus--!" "I'm starting to gather from your reactions you've snuck into more than one place you shouldn't have and got heat for it. Or... don't tell me it was the same place every time?"
Timekeeper	"Here, if you're coming with- the expeditions are dangerous, but it's not like we won't be well-armed." Vertin can theoretically cast magic of her own, but she holds out her palm for an offered materia anyways. The closest thing she has to a weapon is her narrow wand, though. "What will these do once attached?" A beat later, "And what sort of energies reinforced the Psychoportals? Should we assume that it's unavailable to us now? If the portal collapses while some of us are inside, do you know if they'll be trapped?" "Do you, like, cast magic spells for protection?" Vertin holds the slim grey-blue wand loosely like a baton, tilting it to the side for Ahn to see. Despite the wand, though, she shakes her head. "Not well. I've had field training to use basic spells in combat scenarios when needed, but they're not reliable." The gun prompts Vertin to show Ahn hers in return-- not a gun, but a plastic case slipped inside her jacket. "I carry a limited supply of floppy disks-- that is, pre-inscribed spells that can be discharged when needed, but they're saved for emergencies." Hiromi, once Vertin meets her, is a mystifying presence in some ways, but familiar in others, despite never having encountered something like her before. The hobbyist in Vertin has devoted time to combing semi-truthful historical records of meetings with mythical creatures in a similar vein, from dragons to yokai to djinn, the most powerful of which are all but extinct in the modern age, but whose appeasement is, to Vertin, still a necessary skill to learn. Within the warm-ish earthy tunnels created by Hiromi, Vertin unloads a small leather pocket of generic alchemical herbs. Lips pursed, she pokes her finger to separate out which dried or powdered leaves might have the right scent to them, and then ignites them in a metal bowl with a small magical fire. The dirt shelter is filled with a light haze of smoke and a warm soothing smell, intending to communicate the warmth of bodies piled together for companionship. "Thank you for your assistance, Archwolf." It just seems appropriate to treat this as a 'blessing' rather than 'a helping hand', given its source. "We don't exactly know if those places have, like, ... breathing conditions, do we?" "If not, we'll leave immediately," Vertin acknowledges at Regulus. "But the Psychonauts have been making expeditions into the portal worlds on occasion before this." "Is that someone you know?" Vertin being startled by Schneider's appearance is virtually only visible in the slight widening of their eyes, after the exclamation slips from their mouth. She approaches the door regardless, uncertain of how to respond to Ahn. Eventually, she decides on, "Yes. But her interests aren't aligned with the Foundation's." "Don't shoot or stab Regulus--!" "I'm certain she wouldn't. Schneider knows as well as any of us that our focus here has to be survival." Regulus's reminder that this is surely just an anomaly representation of Schneider rather than the girl herself, right after Vertin instructed everyone to doubt everything they see around the portal worlds, indirectly admonishes her. She clears her throat. "She 'would' know, rather. I believe that this door likely represents our world's Collective Unconscious, Regulus, given the patterns on it. The Storm was known to be a fixation of Agent Parsons' after all."
Flamel Parsons	THE MOTHERLOBE DEN EXPANSION Hiromi runs into some unusual aspects in her dig. Namely, there's signs of other efforts to dig. This makes sense: It's a Quarry. Some of these efforts go back at least 500 years, in as much as a wolf cares to differentiate between rickety old shovels and planks from the 1700s, handmade minecarts and wood beams from the 1800s, or metal tracked mining gear and sturdy reinforced shafts from the 1900s. At one point, she runs dead into a thick metal floor-barrier, parallel with the mountain the Motherlobe is built on, that seems utterly out-of-place and makes no geological sense. At one point, it even cuts off an existing mining tunnel abruptly, like it only came into being a short time ago. Meters thick, if she bothers to try to shred it. Doesn't stop the Den from being winterized, but does seem to, at least for now, limit overall digging depth (until Hiromi can find a way through, at least)... THE MOTHERLOBE THE ATRIUM Chairs, reinforced with Regulus' stolen cushions, finally are given rest as a team is assembled to go on this expedition. Most everyone here has been getting by through huddling on couches in Ahn's mini-camp arrangement, trying to eke little messages out through the transmitter... The agents have taken materia, slotting them into... something? The, like, camera was away when their hands approached their heads. "Thanks." Kramer says, more at-ease with a little extra firepower. Seems like whatever this is, is at least, was normal. to them. When Vertin asked, they nodded, in Crenshaw's case expounding: "The Stormchaser Procedure was used as a model. A lot of stuff for dealing with the Storm should work, you know, in concept." He zips up his survival jacket firmly. "Wherever that doesn't work? Stick to your guns if they've ever been put to the test. Even brainiacs like us know to trust your gut." He stops by Aika, though, to get a pyrokinetic boost. "I've got the experience for that, lend me a little." He says, appreciatively, gaining a series of silvery tattoos that indicate human temperature-sensitivity ganglia on both arms. Ahn gets an uncomfortable, but agreeing nod from Kramer. "We'll do what we have to. Just want to make sure we're considering all the problems. Those Doors are dangerous. You know that too." She mutters, a while. Looks like she doesn't much like all this... THE QUARRY QUARRY LAKE Hiromi finds tracks in and out, around the floating platform. Going back at least 6 hours, so the door's been stable. Beyond that, it's hard to tell, the snow's deep enough that Crenshaw had to throw together snowboots out of spare pans from the Noodle Bowl. Cracking a light and throwing it through results in it arcing oddly. Looks like a ninety-degree gravitational turn, from door-on-ground to door-in-wall. When she dives in, she finds that directly, sort of turning mid-space and winding up arcing and landing... But the door isn't too far a drop. Landing is simple, even warm, on a surface of bare dirt and twigs.
Flamel Parsons	GATE-1999 IDEALIC FOREST Past the stable Psychogate, the Idealic Forest at least make it clear that the theories about providing power are correct. It's a forest of light, perhaps appropriate to the season -- massive trees reach a few, a dozen, or thousands of feet up into the air, and vary from slim and slender and flexible, to old-growth dozens of feet in diameter, and their bark is so dark, their sap so drippy and sinister on the oldest. On their branches, where leaves would be, Ideas take shape. Shimmering lightbulbs in all sorts of colors make their nature clear-ish, and the way they thrum with images of obscured humanoid shapes performing actions makes it a little clearer. Why is Gate-1999 so dense with these? It seems to be because of the plentiful ecosystem -- it only takes a minute or two, on arrival, for the first surge of activity. A crashing rush of rain with almost no warning -- because it is, itself, the only warning provided for the lightning. Bolt after bolt after bolt, slamming into the tall trees, sending them falling over or splitting them infernally. On the ones that survive, Ideas gleam with sudden, searing intensity. Some shatter, some explode violently, while others detach abruptly. These shining prodigals slam to the ground socket-first and quickly begin growing new growth -- often overturning their parents. Thin sprouts shoot up, violently, into tall old growth, within the span of one dense rainfall. The Storm, or at least a particular mental image of it as seen through this particular lens, is fueling a constant, viciously cyclical churn of ideological upheaval. It's a constant destruction of old institutional assumptions, replaced with overcharged competitors, who are in turn destroyed by their own offshoots. The energy is so dense that hair raises on skin, and any moment threatens to be the one where lightning strikes. Batteries are self-charging, in some cases to dangerous levels that could make a phone explode in one's pocket. UPE-1929 is there too -- right? One hopes she'll have a hint about where to go, a direction or something to look for. Even now, mere seconds after the intensive storm, the wind's howling distantly, indicating another coming soon -- in the meantime, plenty of UPE-001s in suits with black-and-white checkered ties have emerged from hidden shelters in the less dark tree trunks to patrol the woods and make things more difficult.
Schneider Greco	"Can I help you, my-lords?" UPE-1929 turns lazily to look back at the fresh arrivals in the Idealic Forest, from some fifty feet away. The umbrella on her shoulder is half-shredded by glass shards, leaving her hair dewy and the red feathers that scarcely give her body decency slicked-down against her skin. "I do-not think," she murmurs while stepping closer over fallen black trees, and hitching her stride for just long enough for a piece of lightbulb-glass-shrapnel to whistle in front of her face blinklessly, "you are all such strange phantoms as dwell here..." Red eyes glide up to Hiromi with an eyebrows-lift, down (way down) to Regulus slight-smug, and then linger on Vertin with a little studying smile. The gun that has its home in her un-umbrella-holding hand is cocked, but not raised. Surely, if she'd been out in the snow like that, she should be frostbitten.
Rufus Shinra	> "And what sort of energies reinforced the Psychoportals? Should we assume that it's unavailable to us now? If the portal collapses while some of us are inside, do you know if they'll be trapped?" "I-" Rufus is about to say 'sucked some juice out of one of the monsters and spat it into the portal'. He pauses, index finger raised, while he rephrases each of those words in his head. "- magically siphoned some local mana-equivalent energies from one of the entities, and then diverted those energies into the psychogate," he says. "I can do that pretty easily once I get inside. We just need to grab the first thing with enough energy, borrow some of it, and use it to reinforce the gate. Just in case." GATE-1999 The storm passes through. Rufus ditches his cell phone before the overcharging battery can set his pants on fire. "... This place is all metaphor and analogy, right? What the heck is this a metaphor of? Didn't I visit this world in real life? All I remember seeing was Chicago, and I definitely don't see any dead rats or mob bosses here." Experimentally, he picks out one of the growing trees, holds his shotgun vertically as though it were a staff, and casts. \|ENEMY SKILL: SCARECROW SEEKING WISDOM\| An improbably long drinking straw extends from underneath one of his sleeves, going to impale into one of the rapidly growing trees and sample just a bit of that psychic energy, to see what he can get from it.
Regulus	''I'm starting to gather from your reactions you've snuck into more than one place you shouldn't have--'' "That's why I can turn invisible." Regulus tells Aika as if her light trick originated from this tendency rather than her invisibility simply enabling it. "Of course it wasn't the same place every time." And technically the time Schneider shot her was when she was being the most upstanding citizen she's ever been so it's not even related to her sneaking! She is somewhat relieved by Vertin's assurances on the portal is tempered by her worry about Vertin getting in trouble for, like, being too thoughtful about Schneider or whatever but maybe Sonetto's right. Maybe she's just being a bit TOO suspicious of the Foundation--and besides, there's no Foundation here. She gradually relaxes (so to speak) again. "Y-yeah, sorry, I just got spooked." But she nods her head slightly. "But is it, like, his thoughts on our Collective Unconsciousness or the real deal...?" And is there necessarily a difference? Regulus believes that the multiverse is united through rock and so she kind of blanks for a while after thinking about that. Regulus is glad Hiromi is lending Vertin a hand but she's more relieved that she is like a wolf person who is ripped than just, like, a normal person who is ripped for reasons she can't really articulate. She's getting used to really tall ladies lately, she realizes. Into the forest they go and... ...Regulus blinks. "This is what he thinks of our world...? Does everyone feel like--right?" She taps the side of her head. ''I do-not think you are all such strange phantoms as dwell here...'' Regulus hasn't been shot OR stabbed so--so far this Schneider is doing great as far as Regulus is concerned. "Um." She says. "...Do you want a jacket? Weather's a bit barmy."
Schneider Greco	"...Do you want a jacket? Weather's a bit barmy." UPE-1929 shrugs, flicking the loose-ish sleeve of her unbuttoned mob boss coat. "Don't I have one, my-lady? Mhmhm... no, I am-not so cold as to deprive you." "I definitely don't see any dead rats or mob bosses here." UPE-1929's eyebrows lift a little higher, smile undimmed. "My-lord, you might still see both?" That's a joke. She's joking. She's not gonna make him a dead rat. "... Per-haps more than one. I have been following my own foot-prints. Is there somewhere, my-lords, that I ought to be leading you? It's the stran-gest sense..."
Aika Rosewater	"I believe that this door likely represents our world's Collective Unconscious, Regulus, given the patterns on it." "And that... eight-armed lizard was out of the City's. How many worlds can they tap into from here? If we're lucky it'll just be ones people are familiar with so we have a headstart dealing with them, but if it could be any world, anywhere, we're always going to be on the backfoot." Ah well! Pleasant thoughts. This isn't that different, except in scope. Forest. The odd ninety-degrees flip from the door is easy enough to adapt to; Aika's balance, if nothing else, means she steps through like she's done this before, and ends up on her feet and unbothered. If anyone seems like they'll trip, she's right there to help them. Once she's made sure everyone's through, she can take the environment in; and what an environment! Idea trees? "Aight. That's kind of cool, even if we have no business being here." It's also intensely fucked up, but mostly, neat. At least until the rain and lightning start culling ideas violently. Then it's mostly fucked up, and dangerous. Nevermind the fact Aika isn't fond of suddenly being soaked. The overhang that Hiromi provides is more than welcome shelter. "Ha, thanks. We... are going to have to find a place to dry up before we head back out into the cold like this. That's kind of a problem." Not a huge one. She's got fire. But one nonetheless, especially if the rain keeps coming on and off with practically no warning like that. And... they're not alone. There's the ones in suits, sure, wandering about-- but then there's... UPE-1929 One of those 'anomalies'? One that looks malnourished and unhealthy either way, but not frostbitten or seeming particularly bothered? Aika, almost-ever-smiling, happily moves to meet the new face that, so far, doesn't seem like she'll suddenly tear open to reveal a screaming horror. "Is there somewhere, my-lords, that I ought to be leading you?" "Is there somewhere you CAN lead us to, here, if you can navigate this place at all? I'm guessing it's not all an endless forest. And if you're hungry along the way maybe we can share something?" She still has her energy bar, given the cafeteria gave them actual food for some time.
Tamiel Luxis	"...his thoughts on our Collective Unconsciousness or the real deal...?" "M-maybe some of both? The Psychportal...wasn't supposed to bury into his mind...Right? It was supposed to let him fix whole communities. Whole worlds." She struggles to get her thoughts out through haze. "But it might be aimed at the parts of the world he was interested in, too. S-specific parts. Like Schneider..." Tamiel marveled at the trees, once they stepped through, and then fell back away from the sharp bark of thunder. Her eyes found the bulbs in the trees. "C-could that be our power?" She mused aloud. "But...They seem a little--" lighting comes down, and the tree erupts into light and explosives, sending the little angel yelping, sluggishly fumbling backwards. "V-volatile..." The sight of this not-Schneider broke Tamiel's face into a grimace, a hand reaching up to seize hold of her wing, massaging the place where a bullet had ripped through her. Shadows curled protectively around her--or tried too. The memory of bone-deep chill set her shuddering, and her shadows too--dissolving at her feet like drops of water into puddles of oil.
Vantablitz Remnants	'It just means if you're stuck somewhere, you may as well do as they do.' "No I've heard it before and I'm pretty sure that's not what that means?" says Ahn. "I think that was something about it being correct to follow and observe the customs of the place you are instead of strictly holding to your own idea what the correct way to do things is. And it was religious or something?" Ahn's comprehension of Christian history is: pretty low. It amounts to however much she learned while digging up conspiracy theories regarding the Vatican and Knights Templar, of which there are: quite a lot actually. "It's like phuong tien thien xao I think." 'Not well. I've had field training to use basic spells in combat scenarios when needed, but they're not reliable.' "Oh." Ahn frowns exactly like she's thinking that it's pretty bullshit Vertin gets assigned to this kind of work without a real weapon, actually. They're not like her; the Foundation is their boss. 'I carry a limited supply of floppy disks-- that is, pre-inscribed spells that can be discharged when needed, but they're saved for emergencies.' Well, that's kind of neat, but Ahn doesn't know anything about that, so there's a more important thing to address. "Um, that's really cool, but I think it's going to be super duper hard to replace those, so . . ." Ahn wordlessly turns the gun over to Vertin, grip first, along with one whole spare magazine. If she cares to look through the magazine window, the bullets themselves have weird neon green tips. 'Yes. But her interests aren't aligned with the Foundation's.' "Okay?" Ahn says, not really sure how specific that definition actually is. 'Can I help you, my-lords?' 'Does everyone feel like--right?' "Not since twenty-twenty-one." Ahn says, then laughs. Ahn feels some relief about the gate exit (entrance?) not dangling her off a cliff or putting her waist deep in a swamp. Her list of worries hadn't gone as exotic as 'breathable air' because she'd actually been to these excursions before, and compared to the Zephielcano, the Idealic Forest doesn't seem . . . as bad. She thinks that thought for ten minutes before having to yelp and scamper away from a falling tree. Feeling her phone getting weirdly hot in her pocket, she scrambles out of the rain, worries at the battery, and then quickly tosses it into a-- Ahn why do you have an aluminium foil and plastic wrap faraday pocket in your bag? Is this an NSA spy drone thing? Once she's situated though, Ahn begins industriously scrounging the forest floor for various lightbulbs. The space in her rucksack that originally contained her sleeping bag, tarp, and blanket, is now host to a plastic hardware case that she's using to take samples, loading up on lightbulb filaments, socket-bases, and especially whole bulbs if she can get them. She limits bark scrapings to the handful of mini-jars she already had, grimacing at the slimy kind and not taking more than two. Who knows what will turn out to be useful later! And honestly, just a whole bunch of simple components for running electricity through wires until they get hot would be nice, not to mention ready-made plugs for the light sockets.
Vantablitz Remnants	'Can I help you, my-lords?' "Huhwha?" Ahn says, then clarifies with, "Wahwahwaa--! Miss--" She abruptly looks away. "Are you okay?!" She's already fumbling with her parka zipper. "Oh gosh, oh wow, wow wow it's really bad if people are getting in here from outside. Um, we have a base of operations, kinda, but it's not very big, if you're okay with that, so . . ." 'I have been following my own foot-prints. Is there somewhere, my-lords, that I ought to be leading you? It's the stran-gest sense...' It occurs to Ahn no earlier than right now that Schneider probably isn't real. She winces in chagrin at the dirt off to the side. "To a . . . big power source?" she says, hopefully, like trying to prompt a tutorial along.
Timekeeper	"I'm starting to gather from your reactions you've snuck into more than one place you shouldn't have and got heat for it." Perfectly pleasantly, Vertin intercepts between Aika and Regulus. "If you're attempting to interrogate Regulus as part of an investigation, I'd kindly ask for you to leave it until we're certain of our survival and escape here. Regardless of our prior actions or affilitations, we're all in this together, and sowing hostility will only increase the likelihood that none of us make it out." "But is it, like, his thoughts on our Collective Unconsciousness or the real deal...?" Regulus's thoughts are voiced aloud by Vertin in implicit agreement, holding the brim of her hat down when she enters the forest. "No one person or mind could fully express the entire breadth of feelings a world contains. I'm sure there's a degree of summarization happening no matter what, whether it's through Parsons or otherwise." The sudden rainfall alarms Vertin like nothing else: three consecutive flinch responses, first with the arm that would hold their suitcase, then towards Regulus and the entire group alongside them, and then to look towards the sky. A moment later, they relax, already drenched but pulling out their umbrella anyways. Their face is calm, but it's like you can hear their thudding heartbeat through their voice, mixed in with the drumbeat of rainfall on the umbrella. "It's not the real thing, of course. There's none of the arcane energies associated with the Storm here, just the symbolism of... trees of thought, struck down and replanted." She pauses for a minute while the rain gradually slows, and speaks after a peal of thunder shatters a tree in front of her. "Naturally, his experience with the Manus Vindictae must be colouring the Collective Unconscious. Otherwise fewer trees would regrow with every cycle." "We just need to grab the first thing with enough energy, borrow some of it, and use it to reinforce the gate. Just in case." "Good, do that. Thank you." Vertin checks on her own transponder, shielding it from the rain under her jacket, but even charged there's no connection she can make use of. "Can I help you, my-lords?" Vertin stays silent at first, but once some mental calculations are effortfully worked through, she swallows. Voice even, "Hello Schneider. If you can, I'd be grateful." There's nearly nothing that Vertin is more naturally skilled at than avoiding the gaze of Censors with black and white checkered ties. Walking between trees, they're used as cover without slowing down as if she knows their patrol routes by heart already. She stops a short distance away from Schneider, not quite in arm's reach but in range of conversation without raising their voice. "We're looking for an electrical power source in order to survive the blizzard outside. The weather has trapped us all in, Concord and not alike. If you know of one... do you have a place you've been staying?"
Hiromi	The dirt shelter is filled with a light haze of smoke and a warm soothing smell, intending to communicate the warmth of bodies piled together for companionship. As intended, Hiromi is drawn to the complex scent, her nose picking out nuances invisible to most. This is a form of communication intended for many, both mundane and mystical, but particularly suited to her kind. Vertin thanks her, and receives a sense of, <Your good sense//knowledge is unusual//special in this place. You are welcome to request//pray for favors//blessings.> from the warm darkness through which the wolf pads. Positive relations established. Old signs of mining. Hiromi reaches a barrier, and plunges her hands into it, black claws erupting bloodlessly from her skin. The tearing, squealing hits at different frequencies, overlapping with the resounding, bass crash of impact, as pulls through meter by meter. Eventually, it's a concern she'd just recently brought up to the agents that stops her, rather than the sturdiness of the wall itself. A construction like this could be load-bearing, and even if she has less concern for her own survival, risking the Motherlobe falling into the earth in pieces is against her wishes. he earth pulls away, at her direction, to unearth and unbury the odd wall, but she doesn't have time to finish that work before heading back up to deal with the den-making and, subsequently, the interruption of moving to the quarry. 'Schneider?' 'Is that someone you know?' 'Yes. But her interests aren't aligned with the Foundation's.' 'Don't shoot or stab Regulus--!' One might have expected Hiromi to already be familiar with Schneider Greco -- but one would be wrong in that expectation. As it happens, this first meeting-of-sorts can only be colored by Vertin's and Regulus's reactions, together with the context of the Idealic Forest. A crashing rush of rain with almost no warning -- because it is, itself, the only warning provided for the lightning. Moving through the ninety degree vertical turn like climbing over an edge, feet staying to the ground, Hiromi -- still in an unreasonably large, four-legged form -- stomps the ground at the first touch of rain, pulling the forest's ground up into an overhang before the lightning strikes. Caught by the tall trees, it's less that lightning that's a threat to those on the ground than it is the falling trees, 'old growth' crashing and splitting with the expected dangers of collateral damage. For her part, she sniffs at the ground, not yet able to sort through the myriad scents of a place so chaotically active. One ear swivels to the voice, then her full attention follows with the other and her eyes, head pointing off-angle. 'Can I help you, my-lords?' <The small//young//unenlightened ones seek warmth//safety, strength and wisdom//information.> There are no words to accompany this, without the lips to form them, but the ideas beneath words are clearer for not having them. '...you are all such strange phantoms as dwell here...' <I am Hiromi.> The name-identity is layered with the precise shades of meaning, more image than sound, and more meaning than image. There are several ways to write it, all imprecise. 'Beautiful and Terrible Tyrant' is among them. 'Archwolf' is carried in the same, as she is the only one. <I am aiding//favoring//protecting these strangers//not of the pack.> <What are you?> The final question is carried together with the action to discover its answer as Hiromi, with the sort of attitude one can only carry when of such a confidently larger size, walks over to UPE-1929 and noses her with an investigative sniff-snort hard enough to knock most people -- most bipeds, even, with the accompanying implications to stability -- to the ground.
Hiromi	Beneath an overhang like the earth coming up in a perfect Hawaiian shore wave and freezing there... 'Ha, thanks. We... are going to have to find a place to dry up before we head back out into the cold like this.' <Earth provides shelter and warmth. Dig down and carry up.> So many problems can be solved by the same thing, and when that thing isn't 'bite in and snap its neck,' it's 'dig.' Astonishing that this isn't more common knowledge, really. 'V-volatile...' But not to this. The tilt of Hiromi's head is questioning, without having an answer ready.
Schneider Greco	<What are you?> "Wahwahwaa--! Miss--" "Schneider," purrs UPE-1929. So she does know that name. The hem of her jacket is swish-flicked in an eyecatching way at Ahn; enough to say 'I know you're looking away; stop it'. Adorable. "I am an arcanist. Mmmh, should I be some-thing else?" "So the great big one, she does 'talk'? A plea-sure to meet you, La-dy Hi-ro-mi. Mhmhm, and you are sure you're not a figment, too?" UPE-1929, "Survival Instinct", betrays no more anxiety about a huge wolf approaching her than she had about glass shards whistling past her. The nosing should knock her over, but her body moves to flow around the force like water, cold flat side of her handgun brushing the side of Hiromi's muzzle. Orange peel. Gunsmoke. Alcohol. Human skin. Lately petrichor. Mostly orange peel, though. Wow that's a lot of orange. "The cold, one gets used to it. Re-lax, and the shivering, it stops." Before she turns to head deeper into the forest- harmless gunmetal tap-taps against Hiromi's face to let her by, a polite 'pardon me please'- she smiles and quirks her head at Tamiel. "I am not, ahh, 'on the job'. 'Be not afraid'." "To a . . . big power source?" "If you know of one... do you have a place you've been staying?" "Is there somewhere you CAN lead us to..." "Is-that all, my-lords? There is this little camp, fur-ther in... al-though, I should much the rather return with you after, my-Lord Vertin. We should not squander, should we, this chance for you and the Concord to be aligned?" What a delectable thing. Even if this isn't Schneider really . . . And then she sets off through the black-and-glowing woods, at her confident brisk-swishing walk. But following UPE-1929 is no guarantee of safety. Between the crashing-and-erupting trees, the glass shrapnel, the gazes of Censors, and every other hazard, she is content to thread the needle and dodge by the narrowest of margins. She is immiscible with death, like oil to water. Once or twice the glass does embed in her skin and draw small drops of blood; she doesn't flinch. She offers to hold Vertin's hand silently, which would extend some protection to them, but the rest of you will have to find your own safety in pursuit.
Flamel Parsons	GATE 1999 IDEALIC FOREST Rufus getting into the body of the trees gets ahold of something. Right alongside that, Ahn gains some materials as well. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UPE-1210: Resentment Below The Surface Classification: ANU-2 Containment: Must be stored in highly insulated and shock-resistant containers, such as antishock glass or cranially-padded fluid receptacles. Description: Sap-like fluid extracted from flora in extremely high-activity zones of the Collective Unconscious. Visually resembles but IS NOT chemically similar to residues found on the surface of UPE-1991-derived equipment, such as masks or wands. Known to explode or discharge violently when disturbed inappropriately. UPE-1210 is not a sustainable fuel compound, but has several useful industrial, construction, or demolitions applications. In astral senses, it cannot sustain processes but can build or destroy effectively, creating conduits or channels for other astral and psychic processes to occur. When directly imbibed by humanoid individuals, a physical need (food, water, sleep) is instantly adjusted to either maximum or minimum level. /!\ DO NOT ADD TO COFFEE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES /!\ ... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UPE-003: Idea Classification: SHD-0 Containment: Contextual. Many are used in the effective containment of other UPEs, many are uncontained, many are unable to be contained and must be eliminated in collaboration with local Censor forces, based on content and behavior. Description: Notoriously ambiguous and varied in substance, outcome, mechanism, and even appearance. Standard instances of UPE-003 are commonly visualized as lightbulbs or similar sources of illumination and light, but may vary. Typically grow, ripen, and fall to form the seeds of other ideas, but may explode violently or propagate wildly without predictable cause or outcomes due to high rate of psychomutation. Parts, as well as whole bulbs, can be used to create strong sources of illumination, beacons, beam emitters, and similar devices. However, these are known to not exhibit the same degree of indirect lighting as real-life counterparts, due to only illuminating things from a single perspective. ... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The storms and Foundation-themed UPE-001 Censors sweep through, over and over, battering all but UPE-1929 (besides the glass fragments) during the long walk to the camp UPE-1929 knows of. The Censors don't attack her, somehow ignoring her for better or worse completely (they refuse to strike her, yet she's not exactly welcome in their tree shelters). But unless evaded, they'll go after the others. These smaller ones are easier to deal with, but they make a difficult distraction if one lets them bog down the travel between difficult Storms. Mid-storm, Hiromi's efforts make for spectacular shelters for those who can't sustain the walk between down periods. The Agents Crenshaw and Kramer often shelter under them, using materia-boosted marksmanship to do a limited rest-defense between Storms and then catching up when the lightning abates.
Flamel Parsons	GATE-1999 RESEARCH BASE Crenshaw whispers, "What? We never came here. I'd know." But that's not right, is it? There's the Psychonauts sigil, right there, on the side of a storm-smashed prefab building with half a tree lodged in it, in a small clearing of the Idealic Forest. A whole research facility out here -- quarters, a radio building, a garage, what looks like a workshop, and other similar materials, all in the same technical spec as the Psychonauts, wrought out of prefab industrial design. The lights are even on, but none are off. Well, they literally can't turn off, so in a sense lights being on is more of a sign of abandonment than a sign of inhabitation and maintenance. That question is answered more by the state of disrepair. Records are here though. Soaked by incessant rain and storming hard enough to wash away many paper records and short out many electronic ones, looking through the quarters nevertheless can't hide the lockers and closets with suits and protective hazard wear. The hazard wear is labeled, in fact: "Mingazzini", "Korsakoff", "Gleschwind", and so on. Neither Psychonaut can say they've ever met anyone with those names at the Motherlobe, or heard of them in the organization. Concord members won't have record of Concord scientists under those names. UPE-1929 might find them more familiar... But they're long gone, either way. They lived here once. They don't, anymore. And if they left, they left in a hurry. In fact, there's a sense of familiarity here for others as well. Regulus might remember the way the lighting fixtures flicker. The hazard suits and their names might buzz up a hint of a memory from something... Vertin heard about, from someone else? They're not like the Motherlobe, they're like something else... But one thing is VERY clearly familiar: One of the hazard suits in a smashed-open quarters is marked with the much more familiar name: "Parsons". A lightning rod in the middle of the camp of prefabs crackles with built up electrical force. A dense chunk of a shimmering purple rock Hiromi may have seen in her den-digging is tightly woven among the cables connected to it, at the base. It looks totally stable, electricity thrumming inside visibly. A useful power cell? That could be the answer to their problems. The cabling, though, is unthinkably dangerous. When one gets even inches from it, something is psychically incredibly clear: contact with the cables, even using conventional telekinesis, will be so violently dangerous that it could kill or seriously maim even many high-durability Elites due to the discharge if handled by only one point of contact.
Hiromi	'M-maybe some of both? The Psychportal...wasn't supposed to bury into his mind...Right?' 'No one person or mind could fully express the entire breadth of feelings a world contains. I'm sure there's a degree of summarization happening no matter what, whether it's through Parsons or otherwise.' <The [stone man]'s path//doorway opened to the [world governed by many thoughts].> Even with such an effect of understanding, this is a more difficult one to communicate, faded by missing information more than colored by it. 'Are you okay?!' If there were blood or shivering, Hiromi wouldn't be able to help but notice it, from this close. Whether there is, she doesn't say. Ahn's question fades without her address. 'Otherwise fewer trees would regrow with every cycle.' <Is your world//homeland dying?> It could almost be an aside, a matter of idle curiosity, if Hiromi's default state of presence weren't as intense as it is. 'Mhmhm, and you are sure you're not a figment, too?' <The truest//highest strength shapes the firmament//world.> Those last should be opposite concepts in common contexts, but here communicate totality. <If I were not real, I would decide to be.> A self-proving existence. 'pardon me please' Hiromi turns and flows, stepping half-over in the process of allowing UPE-1929 a path past her. She is, apparently, satisfied without repeated checks for knock-over-ability. A walk through dangers. Hiromi proves her earlier point by being totally immune to rejection by UPE-001 -- rather, outside of one vulnerability in her defense that is likewise enforced and inescapable within her identity. The Censors are given the chance to batter and bash her, without guarantee of making contact, and with as much chance of breaking her body as if striking a mountain. The chance is still given, because a mountain is something that can, within the world-view she enforces, be overcome. She just isn't making it easy for them. Each that finds her is broken against a flash of teeth, the turn of her neck applying a precisely destructive rotating frame of reference. Materials are gatherable in her wake. Likewise, against the storm -- lightning being something she either can't or is choosing not to defeat through sheer force -- her wake leaves shelters for the agents, and any others, to race between. Despite their appearance, supported on only one side, the earthworks are remarkably durable. Even with that care, there's a point where a tree falls directly across Hiromi's back. Her snort carries the sound of annoyance, before a skipping-step that throws off the debris.
Timekeeper	"We... are going to have to find a place to dry up before we head back out into the cold like this." This is a pretty prescient worry, given that the temperature here is fine enough that freezing in the cold momentarily became a secondary concern. "The rain comes too quickly for us to dry off without shelter, even with magical assistance. We'll have to either find somewhere to stay, or... Well, or dig, as Hiromi says. "... Take after the Archwolf's example." "Um, that's really cool, but I think it's going to be super duper hard to replace those, so . . ." "It will-, oh, thank you." Vertin takes the gun with the confidence of being familiar with weapons, and the clumsiness of that weapon never being a gun. The weight is uneasy in her hands, and she spends a minute twisting it around in her hand to check where the safety and magazine release are, but she's aware of what those are and what to do with them, at least. "I am an arcanist. Mmmh, should I be some-thing else?" The gun goes in her coat pocket, right beside the flare-like UPE-494 Otto Mentalis gave her. Her hand lingers there for a second. If she lit one and directed it at Schneider, and UPE-1929 was an anomaly 'similar' to her, then she would glow and there would be no question about it. Instead, Vertin drops her hand, passing over the flares in favor of the umbrella she holds.
Timekeeper	". . . al-though, I should much the rather return with you after, my-Lord Vertin." An uneasy smile tugs weakly at the corners of Vertin's lips. Whether it's to appease the anomaly or because she's interminally stupid and ignoring her own advice, she tilts her umbrella forwards to bring Schneider under its protection from the rain. "I was rather hoping you'd say that." It's harder to formulate an answer to what she says next, however trusting or not Vertin might choose to be. Flamel had made it clear with his Stormchaser procedure that he accesses the Collective Unconscious surrounding the Storm via a singular person deeply rooted in the psyche of the era-- UPE-1929's presence can be explained easily through that. And surely it's possible that Schneider herself was directly involved in the working of the Psychogate project, even as a subject for a modified Stormchaser procedure to induce it in the first place, so her mind very well could have traces from its most inner regions laying around the portal worlds. But then, how much of what she says is really what Schneider would say? Is her fondness for Vertin just from Flamel's observations and assumptions, or from herself? Another thought occurs to Vertin then, that at least temporarily removes the need for any of the others: in the depths of Schneider's mind, there won't be any allegiance to the Manus Vindictae, just to herself and her family. And besides, Vertin has a rule about these sorts of things. "'Squandering' or otherwise... I couldn't in good conscience allow you off alone when we've a base set up farther back." Girls love to invite psychohazards into their camps! The hand out makes her hesitate again, but really, it'd be stupid not to take it just for her own safety, even. Vertin shifts the umbrella to her other hand, leaning it across her shoulder over the pair, and immediately begins talking behind herself to the rest of the group when her hand touches UPE-1929's. "Stay close to Hiromi as a group, all of you. If you're cut, look to Tamiel for healing. Regulus, divert the vision of the Censors when you can. The rest of you, focus on preventing them from separating you from each other rather than killing any particular instance of them." More quietly, though not whispering to be unheard by the others, Vertin ventures to say something else to Schneider while they walk, continuing the conversational thread after a short pause. "... Besides, if all either of our camps has is bread and water, we may as well find more safety together."
Tamiel Luxis	'Be not afraid'. She knows that much...? If she wasn't really Schneider, did that mean she was...connected, somehow? Or had she just...guessed? "...I'm grateful," she breathed, wincing as some of the glass fell on Scheider. She drew her hand away from her wings, forcing them to stay by her side, looking to Vertin with worry born naked on her face. "Okay..." She closes her eyes and claps her hands on her cheeks. "Okay." Clap. "Okay!" Then, specifically, to Regulus. "...We can't let her get too far ahead. Who knows what kind of anomaly she is, here." Her fingers were still numb, and she was afraid that the quarterstaff would fumble right out of her hands. Absent that, or her shadows, she ducks between Hiromi's shelters, acting as somewhere to top off when pelted by censors. She studied the trees, biting her lip, flexing her wings. Eventually, she dared--flying up to try to pluck an Idea from trees here and there, with a shaky hand. Eventually, she dares too close--and lightning ignites one of them. Her body half-phases away, carving fast away from it across the ground--but the sparks still touch the shadow, and sizzle like hot iron against her back. She stops collecting them, then.
Rufus Shinra	Rufus pulls in a full ersatz-MP meter of the sap, drawing as much as he can metaphysically hold. He then also sticks a finger into it and gets a conventional taste of it, giving into the intrusive thoughts, and then he looks: very alert! "Hey! I bet this stuff would go great in some coffee." And then: to the psychogate, to try to prop it up the same way he did when the gate was pointed at The City. Matching this world's wavelength, or just providing some sort of insulated extra buffer, whatever works. If it works out, he'll stay behind ~~as a reason to not appear on the next episode~~ to keep an eye on their way out, especially while people might be setting up to pull needed resources out.
Aika Rosewater	"I think that was something about it being correct to follow and observe the customs of the place you are instead of strictly holding to your own idea what the correct way to do things is. And it was religious or something?" "Was it? Huh." Don't worry, it's not her field either. "So what's... phuong..." She does her best to repeat the whole of it, and gets far enough to twist her tongue and laugh embarrassedly. "Well, that. Same saying?" "If you're attempting to interrogate Regulus as part of an investigation," Aika blinks, and finally grasps how it comes across. "Oh! Please, no, I'm not on her case. Not here, not now. That'd be kind of..." She shrugs. "Irresponsible. Kind of gross. There's a time and place for everything and this ain't it. I'm just curious what her history with injuries is, she's obviously not handling them well." Despite possibly keeping on doing things that make people more liable to try injuring her. The neck was a bit excessive though. "If there's anyone whose case I want to get on right now," Aika reassures Vertin, "It's Flamel. And I'm going to go on a limb and say that's not just me." Bad first impression, for sure. <Earth provides shelter and warmth. Dig down and carry up.> "Oh yeah, good call." That easy huh? As long as Hiromi can give them shelter before they leave it's a solved problem. Here's hoping they don't need to leave in a hurry. "The weather has trapped us all in, Concord and not alike." "Schneider," THE Schneider? She's saying she's an arcanist, and talking as though she's the one. Vertin's engaging her much the same. At this point it may not matter at all if she is or isn't 'real', so there's no sense distinguishing. Even if there was cause to overthink it, the PURSUIT is busy enough as it is. When the Censors can't be avoided, Aika steps in without hesitation; punches, kicks, intercepting them before they can get to the squishier members of the group. It's hard not to notice how little attention Schneider draws from them, but that's to question later, if at all. They do make it to camp, at least. "Our thanks for the guidance," she extends Schneider, which is the polite thing to do! Shame the Storm is already washing away so much of it. Who knows how useful a lot of this would have been if not for that. The rod, of course, attracts her attention most of all. She's no good with science, but she can tell that'll be useful to bring back. Though when she gets close and takes a dose of that lightning, ruffling hair and tail, she crosses her arms ans grumps, like the bloody thing is challenging her. "Maybe if we spread the load... unplug it first, obviously, but... hey, Archwolf. A hand?" It's rare to find someone else who can handle the physical like she can-- better, even-- so she's going to take full advantage of that. "I think as long as we tug together it shouldn't be as bad."
Schneider Greco	Schneider closes her tattered umbrella serenely, letting Vertin's more intact one cover them both. It only works so long as the rain is falling downwards, but it is nice. - - - - "Ah, here we are, my-lords..." UPE-1929 navigates the camp with an easy familiar grace- though it's hard to tell how much that means, because everyone is "familiar" with it, and she is always "graceful"- and comes to the lightning-rod with its purple rock. She crouches down, less than two feet away from it, and regards it with her cheek in her hand. "Mmmh, is this what you wanted, I wonder? I have-not wanted to touch it, but..." <If I were not real, I would decide to be.> UPE-1929 takes a moment to consider that. Her back is to the wolf, but thoughtfulness is in her hunched-back posture. "'Schneider'," she says softly, "is not a name an-y-one is born with, Lady Hiromi. It is 'me' because I have be-come it. So, per-haps I understand." But if that one tired starving girl had not had that spark alight on her brow, would anyone have been 'Schneider' at all? It can be re-derived; would it have been? It's not so universal a concept as strength. "Our thanks for the guidance," "Mhmhm. And my thanks for bringing me the Timekeeper, to be helped." "...if all either of our camps has is bread and water..." Assuming Vertin has crouched beside her, dangerously-close-to-the-crystal, UPE-1929 reaches up and runs her fingers along the umbrella's tender underside with a distant fondness. "... That's so, my-lord. There is more to a pantry than its food." And their faces are quite close together.
Hiromi	Along the way, Hiromi gets close enough to Regulus to make the addressing clear. <Did [one like this] stab you?> 'Hey! I bet this stuff would go great in some coffee.' <There is no scent//sign of food.> This carries a curious, questioning tone. She's dubious of the claim, but not denying outright. 'It is 'me' because I have be-come it.' Nearby comes the felt-meaning, <Every thing that lives grows from a seed, and becomes something different.> <Growth encompasses all directions//degrees of rightness//correctness.> <Every direction is change//motion.> <[One like me] could only exist by the violence//consumption of becoming.> It might not be right to call this 'chattiness' only because it's carried in the steps and breaths already taken. She hadn't been with the other anomalous entities, whatever that could mean. An abandoned station. It's subtle how much more at home Hiromi is with this, requiring a bit of interpretation in a nonhuman countenance that wasn't especially flappable in the first place, but it is at least possible to notice that delving into a dusty old ruin suits her better than the rain. She's continuing to sniff up trails, looking for those places they wouldn't simply be washed away, and-- One of the hazard suits in a smashed-open quarters is marked with the much more familiar name... A check, and comparison. She's had cause to track Parsons recently, but even if she had been further back than 36 hours, that would be a trivial issue. Was this one used? Frequently? By anyone else? Is there a trail? It would only be within the camp, given the upheaval outside, but marking items in a single room can still tell a story, to those who see. 'Maybe if we spread the load... unplug it first, obviously, but... hey, Archwolf. A hand?' In fact, Hiromi would have an easier time wading into a volcano. She's done that before, and it's less unpredictable than this situation by far. Still, there's no better option left available by those here. At least, one's yet to be presented. She acknowledges Aika's request, but steps around the target objective for a few seconds first, standing up into her two-legged form for the sake of more hand-like claws in one fluid motion. Conventional telekinesis, she doesn't have. Authority to move stone by command, she does. With a stomp that ripples through the ground like a struck pond, Hiromi directs a sheet of rock to strike the cables, intending to help dislodge the chunk before moving in to grasp and pull it together with Aika. This will, in fact, hurt!
Regulus	''Don't I have one, my-lady?'' Regulus's expression is a bit skeptical despite the fact Schneider IS wearing a coat but maybe Regulus thinks one coat isn't enough to contain Schneider's aura. ''And that eight-armed lizard was out of The City's'' Regulus thinks about The City but it makes her feel grumpy so she uses a special technique known to her to immediately stop thinking about it and instead think about using the power core's they're going to steal from this psychic reality and using it to make hot cocoa. She feels immediately better. Tamiel brings up that maybe it's not just one or the other. "Even if it's partial that'd be crazy--I think Vertin's right it's probably ... a summary, like, viewed through a Parsons' lens." ''If you're attempting to interrogate Regulus'' Vertin! Her hero! Her captain! Bestest mate ever!! Regulus doesn't have her own umbrella since she's an adopted stray so she has to get some coverage from the umbrella itself. Luckily she's also wearing, like, three coats so that'll help too. "The vibes of the Storm." She quips. "Let's hope it doesn't do the same to us, eh mate? Fake or not!" She is a bit uneasy that Vertin is, like, being this friendly with a Schneider less because it's Schneider and more because she doesn't want this to get back to the Foundation and get Vertin in trouble. She considers trying to stop it, but that feels just so elementally wrong to Regulus that she can't. And honestly, it's kind of cute if Regulus forgets that Schneider shot her once and when not forgetting about it, there still is some relief and joy in seeing Vertin's own little rebellions. ''Hiromi sniffs Schneider'' Regulus nods. This is all very normal. She's a wolf. Wolves sniff ladies sometimes. ''I should much the rather return with you after, my-lord Vertin.'' Regulus wonders if Flamel actually knows the DARK SECRET that has been shared with her already. ''Girls love to invite psychohazards into their camps!'' 5rOh thank god, Regulus thinks, she already decided that she will brave any storm with Vertin no matter the course she set so she doesn't have to comment on how worrying this is a thing to do especially when she might be an anomaly that, like, will do some truly wild and wacky shit when she gets back to camp with everyone. She doesn't even have to think about what sort of weird things this anomaly might do when it isn't being Schneider! Hooray! ''Who knows what kind of anomaly she is, here.'' "So far she's a step up from the original." Regulus grumbles to Tamiel before adding, "That's uh a joke by the way. Don't worry, Vertin's got a good head on her shoulders and we can dive in to help if it doesn't work out." ''I'm just curious about her history with injuries is...'' "Whaaaa....?" Regulus asks. "Are you ... why?? Why would you be curious about that???" She's obviously not handling them well???? "How often do you get shot??" She asks. "Is being shot such a normal thing out there that it's like 'oh just another tuesday adventure?' or something?" ''Their faces are quite close together.'' "Hey!" Regulus says loudly. "Isn't it great that when we're back at camp we'll have all the time in the world to cozy up? But the rain's a bit ''sharp'' here haha..." She approaches the cables and then hesitates, getting a bad vibe from them before she gets too close. "Aw geeze... Yeah I better focus on those Censors. Just uh-- try not to be too rough with it!" She keeps an eye out for those Censors, bending light to prevent them from seeing (with eyes anyway) the group once she spots one getting near, and letting go of it when none are to be seen in order to conserve strength.
Regulus	"Aw geeze... Yeah I better focus on those Censors. Just uh-- try not to be too rough with it!" She keeps an eye out for those Censors, bending light to prevent them from seeing (with eyes anyway) the group once she spots one getting near, and letting go of it when none are to be seen in order to conserve strength.
Vantablitz Remnants	'It's not the real thing, of course.' Ahn is really not paying attention to that right now. Ahn is noticing, immediately, the flinching crisis reflex of a survivor, from someone who seldom shows even half that much instantaneous motivation, at the rain. Even if Vertin does look completely fucking exhausted (something Ahn irresponsibly didn't really dissuade her from), it's just not something that she makes a habit of failing perception checks on, even if her sense motive is hit-or-miss. So despite the overwhelming urge to ask about it, which would probably get her a clear and sensible explanation of something most people here are already familiar with, Ahn says "Sorry, I don't carry umbrellas. They'd just get caught. I have a rain poncho if you want. And noise-cancelling earbuds. And a breather mask . . ." She's reluctant to share that last one, but still; she doesn't know whether it's the wet or the sound or skin contact that bothers Vertin, but even in the process of asking, Ahn has already gotten her rucksack into position to raid it. Later: 'I am an arcanist. Mmmh, should I be some-thing else?' "Ohokay! That's really interesting so thanks! Gotchagotcha!" Nope. Ahn cannot be bamboozled into looking in such a simple (read: naturally effective) way! She is keeping her eyes glued in a direction that doesn't deprive a poor little orphan girl of her dignity and modesty just because of some stupid psychic representation bullshit! There are rules! 'Re-lax, and the shivering, it stops.' "Nonono don't do that!" Ahn squeaks, throwing her eyes down at her feet so she can scuttle forwards instead. "Your body is doing that to keep up your core temperature! Once that stops, you're more hypothermic, not adjusted! You could die!" 'There is this little camp, fur-ther in...' "Waaaiiiit . . ." Ahn whines, hastily shuffling after Schneider whilst trying to find something she can spare for her to wear while also not looking directly at her; which is already slow going before she adds dodging falling trees anc censors back in. Every time she gains ground, mostly due to sheer iron-minded determination to do this completely unnecessary thing, something in her vicinity pings her danger warnings strongly enough for her to freeze and take cover, or leap back instead of forwards, or wait for one more sweep of a censor's gaze so that she exits the shadows with the maximum possible margin of time, and then she falls behind again. 'What? We never came here. I'd know.' She is huffing and puffing about it more out of frustration than genuine exhaustion when she catches up right behind, taking it out on Crenshaw with an 'scathing' "Um, is that true?" until she feels kinda bad. Then, when she leans past to actually look at the smashed up research base, Ahn lights up. Suddenly doubling in energy, she hop-slides down from the rain-slicked roots of one giant tree, sprints out under the bulb-less branch twenty degrees to the side, then across the clearing to the outer wall, and looks both ways for alternative entrances before picking one, pressing herself to the side while she unhooks her flashlight, reminds herself she gave away her gun, removes her knife from her reverse chest harness instead, and straps a dust mask over most of her face. Even then, she reaches for a small, throwable object-- a scrap of idea glass in a pocket that would jangle if it weren't so padded-- and throws it inside, waiting for the sound to stop.
Vantablitz Remnants	'Stay close to Hiromi as a group, all of you. If you're cut, look to Tamiel for healing.' "Huh." The noise from Ahn sounds thoughtful-affirmative. Like she hadn't even considered that she'd be exploring a scary abandoned research base with the benefit of someone built like a bulldozer and a magical healer at her back. She is already a room deep by that point. "Gosh, maybe we should build a collector for the rainwater near the entrance? If we run a hose back to the base, and maybe have Hiromi bury it, we can fill up some water tanks; I guess we'd have to use the coolers though? That'd be so much faster and easier than melting snow." 'So what's... phuong...' Ahn is Exploring, and there don't seem to be monsters inside, so she can converse again! "It basically means 'expedient means'. Like, if someone has a custom or ritual or personal thing that's different from what the Buddha taught, but is still morally uplifting and helps that person grow closer to enlightenment anyways, you're supposed to leave them alone and approve of it, not be a dick and try and correct them." Once she finds hazard suits, she calls for Regulus immediately, pointing out what she wants to divvy between their respective Storage Points. After that, Ahn is ripping wiring out of the goddamn walls with her electrician tools; first the radio parts that she's fairly sure were asked for, then the climate control coils and a couple of fans, and then the parts from the garage that aren't sensible to carry with her; a pneumatic jack, bolt cutters, power drill, and so on, not to mention rummaging for a particular golden goose: car batteries and alternators. A jumpstart kit would be great too! The names on the suits are something she has to look at Kreavis and Cremhead to know if they're real or not. For all she knows, 'Dugnutt' would be valid American name on one of those.
Schneider Greco	<Every thing that lives grows from a seed...> <One like me could only exist by the violence//consumption of becoming.> UPE-1929 thinks on that for several seconds, then makes a soft noise of parting her tongue from her palate to speak. . . . Nothing comes out, though. She doesn't have access to transcendent meaning. There's just the lingering, uneasy frustration-at-herself of something inarticulate. "Hey! Isn't it great that when we're back at camp we'll have all the time in the world to cozy up?" Instead she looks back over her shoulder slowly, pressing her lips into an only-slightly-amused line. "Peace and love, my-la-dy." Her eyes follow fondly after Ahn about her clothing-explorations. If she's offered any clothes by the brave Completely Heterosexual Explorer, she'll be sure to put them on in salacious manner. But for now . . . "My-la-dy, should you find a 'radio' or ear-piece such-as you all have, I should be quite grateful for it." UPE-1929 has joined the party!
Vantablitz Remnants	When she gets to the fucked up killer lightning rod in the middle of the camp, Ahn, who is Not An Engineer, enters an almost trance-like state of what could call charitably call 'objective-driven focus' and uncharitably call 'functional bumblefuck mode'. The sight of the horrible gizmo draws her like a moth to a flame, which then turns into her poring over it from every side, then taking sketches down in her notebook from rain cover. Hoverhanding it with tools without actually connecting them to anything, she contemplates it in perfect recreation of a small animal trying to figure out what a motorbike is for, then skitters back into the garage, only to come sauntering back out with a new armful of different tools. If you watch long enough to see it take shape, you can witness the ungodly process of turning tire pumps and jumper clamps into ground-spike style voltage grounds, the copper coming from wound wire, and the vices using plastic clamp tension instead of threading. It is frankly kind of nauseatingly worrying to see, but Ahn at least appears to know what she's doing as she pounds the pylons into the ground (possibly asking for Hiromi's help), and then asks for Kramer's telekinesis to float-attach the grounding clamps themselves to that completely dogshit wiring, bitching about the electrical job all the while. Once the the nightmare arc happens (with a warning to stay the fuck away), Ahn rushes in to-- flying kick the lightning rod off the top, actually. It'll break. She can fix it; it just looks ridiculous. With the possibility of the capacitor being randomly recharged by a new bolt, she begins ravenously stripping the cables free of the purple stone like a butcher disemboweling an animal for consumption. After that, it's a matter of who can carry it all.
Timekeeper	<Is your world//homeland dying?> In due accordance with Hiromi's presence, Vertin gives the question careful thought before answering. "I believe that the only way a 'world' can die is through being disallowed from changing or growing. This is precisely what the Manus Vindictae have been attempting to do to it through the Storm. Their dogma suggests that there is a point in time where they will be satisfied with unmaking the world and choose to make it again anew, but in the meantime, nearly every inhabitant of the world will die." "...I'm grateful," Tamiel's worried look is met by an avoidant shadow under the brim of Vertin's hat. Uncomfortable in a hard-to-read way, even once one eye is visible again past the hat, it doesn't meet Tamiel's. "Thank you for keeping an eye out, Tamiel." That could mean anything. "Hey! I bet this stuff would go great in some coffee." Suddenly much more alert, Vertin's head whips over to Rufus, red-eyed with sleeplessness. "Do we have a functioning coffee machine?" "I'm just curious what her history with injuries is, she's obviously not handling them well." "What would you consider handling injury 'well'?" Now that the tension between Aika and Regulus is addressed and diffused, Vertin holds no animosity towards her whatsoever, so she just sounds curious. "Is it through pain tolerance, familiarity, or quick response? Do you handle injuries well?" "Mmmh, is this what you wanted, I wonder?" The prickle of electricity over Vertin's skin is what awakens them from the surreality of walking hand in hand with Schneider through the Storm. Faced with an objective, Vertin shifts immediately to directing and delegating, though both of her hands are occupied to prevent gesturing. "Regulus, uncoil your longest stretch of wire. Agent Crenshaw, Agent Kramer, use your telekinesis to ground the battery with it. Then our strongest members will attempt to lift it together, with Tamiel ready to separate them from the battery if anything slips up." "There is more to a pantry than its food." Vertin isn't telekinetic, techy, strong, or a healer, so she eventually sinks into a kneel nearby the lightning rod along with Schneider to keep an eye out. They'll have to help Ahn with stripping the facility for parts soon, but for the moment, they're dizzy with the brief respite. The smell of ozone and petrichor radiating off of the ground is overpowering, but somehow it's the oranges most present through it all, and Vertin's hand drops to the ground to steady themselves. The umbrella slips, handle falling to rest on her inner shoulder, so that the canopy of it shields them fully. "Schneider...." Vertin slowly breathes out the name, less of a response than an acknowledgement. If she has anything more to say after that, it's cut off by . . . "Isn't it great that when we're back at camp we'll have all the time in the world to cozy up?" With a bit of a grim atmosphere, Vertin teeters back up to her feet. She swipes mud off of her knee, and hands the umbrella over to Schneider without a word. "Apologies, Regulus. I suppose we'll be here long enough that I have no choice but to sleep at some point, as tired as I am now. Find me in the building with Ahn once the power cell is retrieved, will you?"
Flamel Parsons	GATE-1999 RESEARCH CAMP The censors haven't followed, Regulus' invisibility having taken care of the impressions left on the intruders. Looks like they can work in peace, at least. And Ahn's improvised hazard-detectors work quite well, though after the first few doors Crenshaw tries to make a peace offering, handing off one of the UPE-494 "Spinal Tap" flares, the light of which helps her identify the few severe neuroelectrical hazards quickly. He also confirms that those are valid names -- "Seen those in history books, actually. But we don't work with them." As she works with the capacitive cabling, she can discharge it partially, but almost any resistor, including points of contact in the dirt itself like Hiromi's stone and Vertin's electrical work with Regulus, violently melts to slag as it chunks through the electricity in that capacitor. Ahn's approach of unconventioanl Mad Electrician stuff takes to it most, but those other efforts aren't wasted, and they enhance what she does when she's given the chance to direct it. Lights, industrial multimeters, the works -- don't even think about shorting this thing unless you want to start a new space program. The discharge can wear it down, ease the agony so the high-toughness cases can work much more easily, and kicking the top off makes sure there's no more risk of recharge. Thank god, this next part is awful enough even at fifty percent power. The instinct of survival -- the one inside one's mind, not the malnourished whisp of a woman haunting the abandoned camp -- goes into overdrive when hands make contact with the cables. But Aika has the superhuman endurance and healing, and Hiromi has the archwolfic toughness and regeneration. It's likely to burn out most movement in the first limb of contact, as unthinkably high volumes of extradimensional storm energy rush from the point of charge directly into the ground. Even a tough Elite would find their heart stopped touching it alone, but a group, working together, find it merely a wildly painful experience, activating every channel of the mind in sequence. This energy is supernatural, it's astral and psychic, not just physical. Ideas form on the arms and the back of the head, bulbs bursting out of the skin and blossoming into blinding light. Some burn out, some shatter. Lodged into the skin, muscle-deep, the ones that fall off or are later removed will leave seared, cauterized wounds. It's horrifying stuff, and painful to watch as well. Even with regeneration, the amount of burning will benefit strongly from more targeted healing like Tamiel's or anyone else's more precise efforts, given how burns interact with healing. But it's a way of earning success, and it earns it. The crystalized psitanium emits a hum, that turns to a whine, that pitches up to a scream, that rises constantly as the cabling is extracted, and then all at once it comes loose. The wave of electrical energy knocks out every light in the camp, and many of the lightbulbs in the trees surrounding the clearing. For a moment, even the psychic storm is driven away, wind slowing to a halt and rain dispersing. Everything is lit only by the neuron-shaped stars above. The crystal is the only source of light. Now that its soft purple glow is steady and visible, it can finally be examined closely. Not just a crystal, it's... a bottle:
Flamel Parsons	"UPE-1999-B 'LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE'" "DO NOT DROP. IF DROPPED, RUN." "PARSONS INSTITUTE OF ANOMALOUS STUDY" Oh crap. Rufus, elsewhere, experiences a strange spark reaction on magically reinforcing the Door in a particular pattern. Like a circuit completing when something was removed, something he did to stabilize things incites a phenomenon elsewhere. One of the remaining doors of the camp slams harshly, before opening up somewhere it didn't open to before in a patterned signal that Regulus can pick up on her Psychoseismometer. In the darkness beyond the threshold: The Atrium of the Motherlobe. A shortcut home, from and to a stable zone in the Collective Unconscious. One through which UPE-1929 can follow, as well. It won't take long for Ahn, Regulus, and other experts in this to hook it up to the power and get the lights back on. More than the meager backup before, even, albeit not quite as much as when it had power from the outside.
Flamel Parsons	Hiromi's detective-vision scenting of the hazard clothing, the equipment, the facility, all rain-soaked as it is, is still effective. Something with Flamel Parsons' scent once wore these suits, used these tools, rode these vehicles. Multiple people. Everyone who was here was Flamel Parsons. The Parsons Institute has been here, the interior of Flamel's mind has been here. For how long? In how many places? Where did they go? Impossible to say. But easy to confirm, given the inscriptions on UPE-1999-B, a clear derivative of something Vertin was likely once briefed on months ago.
Aika Rosewater	The world's meanest lightning rod. Aika screams, of course. This response mutes itself into a grunt quickly enough; and a thankful consideration for the fact Ahn managed to get quite a lot of this thing's edge out of it. It's still awful and unpleasant, and by the time the whole thing has been successfully disarmed and moved for transporting, Aika stumbles back and just lets herself fall onto her ass, to pant and breathe and whine for a few seconds, grit her teeth, and wait for her system to kick in. Her tattoos light up, bright blue-silver, her flame going into overdrive to start working on closing the horrible wounds that having ideas burst out of your skin caused. To start ejecting the broken glass and chunks of bulb still in there; whatever Tamiel can provide on top, she'll be more than appreciative of. "How often do you get shot??" "Do you handle injuries well?" Aika, who just got done grunting in pain due to the Evil (Psychic) Lightning Rod in order to secure it, passes the back of one of her hands against one of her cheeks, as if looking to wipe something off it that clearly isn't there. Mud, at best. The other arm, looking like it's supporting her, won't much respond at the moment. "Not shot, necessarily, but often," she laughs, because it's a thousand times better to grin through the hurt than to whine about it. And if nothing else she just demonstrated getting hurt. "What would you consider handling injury 'well'?" "Hahaha... well, what do I know, I'm on the ground right now, so maybe Regulus is handling it better than me after all, huh? I'll give her one thing, for all she makes it obvious being hurt sticks with her, she can also make one hell of an escape when she has to." She taps her nose, pointedly, while looking at Regulus. "Mostly, yeah?" Aika takes a deep breath, while others busy themselves about the camp, until she's got enough wind in her to stand back up. "Don't mind me so much. Maybe you can tell me about you sometime, Vertin. Matilda's mentioned that Defense of Mankind school, and I can't imagine Timekeeping is a safe vocation, so you must have some experience. Might make for a neat campfire conversation when we're back to base."