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Flamel Parsons	SOMETIME IN THE FUTURE... Many letters are being exchanged... [...]                                                                                                      To the Director of the IPAR Bureau,                                                                                                                                  Your analysis, biased as it is by the interests that the                     Psychogate Event were in conflict with, is retrospective.                       What data indicated risk? If we knew something terrible                         would happen, we would have chosen to not do something                           terrible. Define risk, Director. Risk of what? Of the                           Psychogate Event occurring? Of the Psychogate Event having                       any lethal outcomes? Of the Psychogate technology emerging                       to begin with?                                                                                                                                                        It's convenient that the ambiguity you've chosen to use                     is the one that's the most harmful to us and assumes the                         most justification for the most punishment. Please clear it                     up before filing your request.                                                                                                                                    Regards,                                                                         The Director of Project Mystic
Flamel Parsons	CURRENT DAY     THE QUARRY     It starts with a brief rumble and an odd flicker. Something in the ground shifts slightly, and the wiring of the Motherlobe gives out for a moment, lights fluttering on unstable connections. Holographic screens fritz and freeze. Hard glass screens lose outside signal, and a few begin to repeat their last second. In Green Needle Gulch, radios start to struggle, and one of the tents falls over. A fire is blown out by a terrible peal of wind.     Then, a second, deeper, more intense rumble. Footing gets unsteady for a second. The elevators in the Motherlobe give out. Semi-phneumatic systems that allow telekinetics to glide freely along conduits suddenly falter. Even the backup platforms for people who can't levitate shudder to a stop, though they have enough momentum to get most of the way to a floor. Out in Green Needle Gulch, flocks of birds take off, and wildlife, in a panic, begins to rush out of the forest, away, as far away as they can. Across the frozen lake, down the valley to the abandoned town, wherever they can go.     A third low rumble. Alarms sound. Red lights rotate. A window in the main atrium shatters. Just outside, and even down in Green Needle Gulch, the wind suddenly picks up. What was, for a moment, a soft but unexpectedly chilly flurry of snow turns to a howling blizzard in less than twenty seconds, wind screaming between trees, sky darkening all at once.     The fourth rumble is when the screaming begins.
Flamel Parsons	The Motherlobe switches to emergency power. Enough to bring on some lights, though not all. Those stopped in jammed elevators, hidden in closed labs, or conveniently sitting in the cafeteria or the bowling alley are all spared from actually seeing what just happened, what just provoked so much noise, but every door in the facility just shut hard and won't open. And there's so few people here -- the holiday season had people cashing their vacation days. The few agents, scientists, and facilities workers that are in, are few and far between, maybe one or two to a room.     The Foundation and Watchmen in the Gulch pile into insulated tents quickly. Something is happening out there. A squad commander can't reach the Foundation on the radio, and the nearest Watchtower just went dark. The biting cold nips through the tent, demanding attention. The camp was set up to endure the cold and wilderness, but finding better accommodations is crucial for survival. And the transit system is down now...     Those helping Flamel can be anywhere around the upper layers of the Motherlobe. Or even among the Psychogate labs, where they've been working on extracting useful resources, artifacts, and entities, as well as exploring new realms to influence. Those against him may be mid-infiltration among the outer layers of the Motherlobe, in the bowling alley or cafeteria or upper labs -- even the barber shop. Or far out in the storm, working the psychoseismometers and the camp...     But the man himself, Flamel Parsons, is nowhere to be seen.
Rufus Shinra	RUFUS SHINRA'S TOP SECRET MISSION FOR NOBODY'S EYES ONLY Rufus has recently watched the children's television entertainment show "The Magic School Bus" (PBS, 1997) featuring the delightful antics of Ms. Frizzle and her precocious school children (and one reptilian class pet) as they go through a series of improbable fantasy field trips. His new driving force in life is finding an opportune moment to make a reference to this show. It must not be just any reference, though, it must be the *perfect* reference, the zenith of pop cultural nostalgia regurgitation, the sort that'd get a genuine "Everyone Clapped" moment out of all and sundry. If it comes down to it: he values this goal over all of your lives, separately and combined. THAT IS RUFUS SHINRA'S TOP SECRET MISSION THIS MESSAGE WILL SELF DESTRUCT --- "So, have you watched anything interesting lately?" Rufus asks one of the Motherlobe workers. "Say, any old television shows?" When he's not working on his TOP SECRET MISSION, he's been pursuing BASE CAPITALISM. That is, bringing in oil-drilling equipment into the psychogate, and seeing what does and doesn't work in the Collective Unconsciousness for extracting resources in the literal sense. The Collective Unconsciousness is the greatest untragedied tragedy of the commons, if you think about it. If Rufus Shinra does not drill for MIND OIL himself, then someone else will. He's practically doing everyone an altruistic favor, from a certain point of view. How selfless of him! "So there's this show-" The power goes out, distracting Rufus from his crucial efforts. "Hey, do we have someone on power already? The longer we go without main power, the longer we're going to go without profit, here." Gradually, he becomes aware that there's something more than just a mundane power outage going on. "... Dang it." He goes to start making sure everyone in his area is okay. It's just like when something goes wrong on The Magic School Bus and all the kids have to band together, after all.
Storm Investigators	With some new leads to look into following their last visit to the Motherlobe, Greta and Marcus had hoped to spend a little time doing an old-fashioned stakeout for the missing subject of their audit. Just knowing that Flamel's been doing something outside of a psychic scope isn't enough to really worry either of them or get the kind of attention that they'd been requested to draw to the project, so actually finding him would probably be their best bet. Instead of a stakeout, however, they've found themselves snowed in, unable to reach anyone back in the Foundation.  Bundled up in heavy winter wear, the pair of investigators peek out from a window facing the outside, then slump right back inside to warm up after sprinting their asses off to get into the barber shop. "I haven't seen a blizzard that fierce in so long... That cannot be normal, can it?" "Not in this short of a timeframe, no. Still, while we're here, we might as well make good use of our time." "That's right. Perhaps Mister Flamel stopped by here to get cleaned up before starting all this work, and... Um. Madam Hofmann?" "Yes, Marcus?" "What does he look like?" Realizing a potentially vital flaw in a whole lot of this work, Greta leads Marcus around the barber shop for the first of many things she's hoping to get done today: Finding out if Flamel's ever been here. She's not banking on any of the few remaining employees in the Motherlobe during the break here to actually have pictures of him lying around, but she can at least start by approaching whoever's in the barber shop to start with the dreaded small talk about the blizzard. "Were you caught out, too? Dreadful." "At least we are safe in here... Oh! Perhaps we will receive some generous overtime for this?" "As an intern? I doubt it."
Chuyao He	Chuyao He, or, as he's known around here, an auditor from a vague yet benevolent oversight committee--is just wrapping up a fruitless attempt to find anyone influential enough to pose meaningful organizational opposition to Flamel's project. *It is most troublesome, how trusted brother Flamel is. The perspective of an outsider is as a gentle breeze against a large, venerable tree.*     The scholar, dressed in the red robe and black headdress of a mid-ranking imperial minister, strokes his chin and frowns. *Moreover, there are not many who are even in the office, owing to the rites of such a season... I have kept the counsel of the coins; avoided discussion of the northeast, allowed sincerity to guide me, persevered even in unfamiliar territory. Perhaps... perhaps our concerns will be proven wrong?*     His reflection is disrupted by the sudden flicker of the overhead lights. Lowering his hand, he focuses on the fixtures, then quickly steadies himself. "An earthquake?! No... what is happening?" The door to the bowling alley slams shut and Chuyao turns to the sole other person in the room. "I hear screams. We must investigate and see if anyone is hurt! Colleague, how thick are these doors?"
Aika Rosewater	One easily overlooks a napping white and pink cat in a corner of one of the Foundation's tents, down in the Gulch. Aika's sleep schedule could never be called that; she catches a bit here and there, when she can, because the idea of a good night's sleep is preposterous for a hunter. The day, by contrast, is so much more quiet, and even out on an assignment (Paladin hours are so important to tally up), it's not too hard to catch ten minutes of nap time while there's nothing going on whatsoever, after helping around the camp.     And then there's something going on. It's not the second rumble that wakes the cat, but the first, faint and distant. Her eyes scan the tent, and she darts out, a bounding leap that results in a woman leaving the tent rather than a cat. Nothing? Just an earthquake? Her senses scream it's not just that. A second rumble and then terrible wind. A third rumble and it's an all-out blizzard. Shelter becomes a priority.     Aika gets to work. Pick up fallen Foundation staff, get them into the tents. Help secure the tents that look like they won't survive the winds. And then light some fires, if any tent's devoid of them; hers is a warm silver-blue, distinct, easily lit with a snap of her gloved fingers. Once she can take a breather, she'll shuffle on over to the commander's tent, to get a full sitrep.     "So that was obviously not normal, huh? Is there already a procedure for What Now or are we playing it by ear?"     Her (cat) ears keep twitching; the slightest sound outside, the screaming, she's taking it all in. You'd be excused for thinking she's not paying attention to whoever she's talking to, her ears angling left and right with obvious intent like that.     This is when Marcus and Greta take off, and Aika elects to go along with them to the barber's rather than stay holed up in a tent doing nothing. "What does he look like?"     "You know, I've heard people call him a rock. Surely that's not literal?"
Hiromi	Humanoid or many-limbed, they're formed of paper, pens, tablet screens, the creases on envelopes carved in the air itself, and the smooth, finished surfaces of conference-room tables, each with projectors for heads showing a constant stream of incomprehensible powerpoints.     . . .     '... So, if we pulled something *out* of the collective unconscious, that's... kind of like a lobotomy?' Rufus says. 'Done... to a corporation?'     There can't be any negative consequences from pulling ideas formed of office supplies out of people's minds and either dissecting or juicing them for study. It's the fault of human consciousness for ever having absorbed such ideas in the first place, and Hiromi can only be doing good by removing them. Being fully confident in this, she's gone ahead put effort on this date, as well, into 'acquiring specimens.'     Her effort to explore the obeliskscape for naturality finds nearly nothing. Too much has been carved and shaped. But where the gashes tore through the obelisk surfaces, she can find something unusual, and somethig that seems to be 'natural substrate'. From this high up, it's blunted. Meters down, hundreds, maybe thousands of meters down, it might be present enough, but she'll need to dive deep, along that shining tree's roots.     But this, too, takes up her attention. It's obviously dangerous, traveling out into some unreal ~~landscape~~ mindscape like this, but she is just as obviously confident in her ability to remain unscathed -- if less confident that she won't become trapped for some indeterminate period of time due to fault or other unknown danger regarding her mystical passageway back.     It's not completely surprising to her, then, when a 'trapped' situation is what occurs. At that first sign of something having gone terribly wrong, Hiromi backtracks, racing up through the Collective Unconscious 'scape by digging her hands and feet into holds on the obelisk above the endless chasm, and returning to the 'real,' to find...     Closed doors, and no Flamel.     Hiromi begins tracking. He had been here. No one is without signs, try as they might to purify their environment. Doors, of course, are things to be forced open -- though here she shows enough caution to first check for (of all things) signs that the opposite side of each door exists. That is, to her mind and experience, the most relevant danger.
Timekeeper	Estimating from first principles the readings of the Psychoseismometers is slow work, but given the combined skillsets of the genius alchemist, the abnormally magically sensitive Timekeeper, and a girl trapped behind a screen who has surprisingly little knowledge about electronics, there's still progress to be made. By now, Vertin's made the wise decision to bundle up more, with a blue fuzzy coat tugged on over their black turtleneck, chin burrowed down into the neckline while crouching over the psychoseismometer. The chill, even with erratic light snow, is too much for them to handle with anything lighter, being skin and bones as they are.     TTT's tablet screen has her seated, legs folded, on top of the oscillating readings of the seismograph. She kicks her feet, lifted up and down and up and down along the spikes while chatting.     "And just since last time we were around, they got mucked up again! What's with that?"     "We saw that minor emotional fluctuations at close range were enough to appear in the readings. Perhaps we could try telling Regulus jokes in order to approximate what sorts of psychic origins these readings have-- surely the source is far larger than a person, but it's emitting both 'readings' and 'waste energy', and I'd like to be able to separate the two. We'll consult Marc and--"     TTT has forewarning only by a matter of seconds before the event, when the oscillations of the graph she's sitting on begin to shudder violently up and down. "Woah-!" She slips off, bucked by a spike in the reading so forceful that it cracks her screen, and the wild scroll of peaks and troughs only grows faster and faster. "Guys! Something's coming-?!"     Vertin lunges to grab Regulus's wrist with one hand and pull her scarf up to shield her face from the howling wind while holding the tablet. Within seconds, TTT's glow becomes their best source of light, barely piercing through the blizzard even though she pulls out a flashlight immediately. The heavy cloud cover means that, even through the snow, the red lights of the Motherlobe's alarms are just barely visible.     "Regulus! Don't let go!" A squint down at the psychoseismometer confirms nothing besides that everything's all screwed up. "This has to be connected to Parsons' work! We have to get back to the camp!"     Going back to the camp means moving against the wind, and more unsettlingly, moving against the tide of animals still fleeing away from the Motherlobe. Even this heavy snow can't pile up that quickly, but there's not enough time to linger outdoors and all catch up on their findings safely. Aika is intercepted at the Gulch, an unfamiliar face to Vertin, but a familiar one to Regulus, so their paths join when hurrying into the Motherlobe.     "Until we have reason to believe otherwise, act as though this is a direct result of Parsons' Psychogate. Whether intentional or a malfunction, for our purposes this is a disaster and needs to be treated as such. Stick to pairs at minimum, report any threats rather than engaging them, and be careful."     Vertin's agitation can mostly only be read in the way their instructions come rapidly and a notch louder than usual. Besides that, they're briskly professional and calm-expressioned. "We'll set up psychological monitoring protocols once we have a chance."
Vantablitz Remnants	Ahn genuinely just fucked up! She forgot something and got embarrassed and tried to figure a bunch of things she shouldn't have, and really in a fair and just world everyone would be praising her for how far she got all on her own; like nobody else had to do all that, and it's genuinely incredible she turned this all into a Deep Cover plot when she didn't even know where to go at first, so, so!          Oh god it wasn't supposed to go on this long. Someone help.     Ahn has now spent hours and hours being an invaluable helper to the Psychogate project, which is really getting in the way of her constant attempts to try and find a polite opportunity (or at least a convenient excuse) to leave. As often as she tells herself that she's 'deep in enemy territory, gathering invaluable information for her allies, who will think she's so cool and dependable when she reveals it' whenever she feels as if she might be about to cry, the fact of the matter is that she's watching a billionaire move in oil drilling gear to extract from the collective human soul and there's just kind of a limit to what she can take!     Thus Ahn is in the middle of a nervous mental breakdown in one of the employee bathrooms, which is definitely off-limits in Mental Health CIA HQ, she's sure, and the power going out is "--NOT helping!!!"     It's hardly the first time she's ever been in the midst of a blackout in a secure scientific facility though, considering her occasional constant semi-neglect of the shambling apparatus that is the Shelter's electrical grid, but it's her first time around other people, which makes it kind of embarrassing. Ahn hastens to throw away tissues, re-pack her stupid rucksack, was her face, and then wash her hands again separately for no real reason other than it's part of the ritual of leaving a bathroom. She'd check the mirror, but it's dark and that's scary.     Scurrying back out coincidentally puts her behind the same door as Chuyao, given that she'd reasoned the bowling alley was going to be the loudest non-science place in the building. When she staggers out under the emergency lighting, pale-faced and nauseous-looking, she stares at the door in bland noncomprehension, then back to Chuyao. "Huh? Did the door break?" betrays everything before she even fishes around in her jacket pocket. "If you need my phone to call maintenance, you can borrow it."
Regulus	Regulus has honestly been having kind of a blast working with weird technology she hasn't seen before and there's something almost cozy about the process, actually. even if it also involves some internal mental battle with a few waves of enemies. The first time, of course, she freaked out about it but now she's actually finding it relaxing. It's nice to be able to bounce around and blast psychic trauma directly with rock and roll memories. And it's affirming! But this is decidedly a bandaid for a much bigger issue. She hopes someone else has been able to figure all that out while she's been stuck bouncing her head off of the psychoseismometers. "Yuup. If it's this bad all the way out here before Flamel's work is even complete, I can't imagine it'll be much better after!" ''Perhaps we could try telling Regulus jokes in order to approximate--'' "Oh yes!! You definitely should try telling me jokes, Vertin!" Regulus's eyes are wide and excited at the very idea. Vertin has said funny things before and even said jokes, but she hasn't really done the sort off prepared gag that she's suggesting before, she's pretty sure! She wants to know what Vertin's standup routine is! She's gotta know! But before she can press Vertin more, TTT speaks up! "Huh? What's coming?" Regulus asks. "Wait we literally just worked it--!" Her instinct is to grab onto BRAINe's (APPLe still in diguise) ball and hold it tightly to her body which leaves her unable to pull her own scarf--fortunately Vertin's able to do that for her. Blek!" Regulus says but doesn't fight it, pulling one of her arms free from BRAINe to grab onto Vertin's hand. "Don't you worry love...! I don't intend to! Where you're going, I'm going, mate!" Fortunately the sunglasses help protect Regulus's eyes--it's not what they are for, but they come in handy sometimes for reasons beyond looking cool. AS they reach Aika, Regulus's eyes widen slightly upon seeing Aika. "Oi! It's you!" She exclaims. "That's Aika, she's a Paladin." She asides to Vertin. ''act as though this is a direct result of Parsons' Psychogate.'' "What else could it even be, Vertin love?" Regulus murmurs. "Bloody hell, if I was expecting blizzards, I would've worn more layers...!"
Persephone Kore	GRRRN. "Did you hear that?" "Hear what?" "Take your headphones off." "Uh, okay. Are you pranking me Marc?"      The mismatched-pair-who've-known-each-other-all-their-lives, Marc Heller and Dylan Cruise, are hanging at the Green Needle base camp. The former can't get comfortable in his windbreaker, picking at the sleeve; the latter's bundled-up-and-comfy in her puffer coat doodling in a sketchbook. GRRRR... "That. Did you hear that?" "... You're getting tinnitus." "What?" "Yeah, see? Your hearing's going, dude. I've been telling you you can't play your music that loud." RRRRH-- BWEE! BWEE! "Ack, lauxtacxaaa--!" "What was that--" "Marc, that's the radios down! C'mon, c'mon, we've gotta get to the Motherlobe!"      - - - -      They meet with Vertin, her on her way back, them just departing, and double back to the fringe of the Gulch camp. The glow of Dylan's red flare, held in the hand opposite her baseball bat, cuts through the blizzard.      "Stick to pairs at minimum..."      "We're a pair by ourselves," Dylan says, nodding. She's the brisker to orient herself to new realities, it seems; Marc is still finding his sea legs in the emergency. "I think the tall one and the short one-" "Greta and Marcus," Marc supplies. "-Greta and Marcus are stuck inside the Motherlobe, but they can look out for each other. Chuyao might be alone in there." "I think our earpieces are still working, at least for local contact..." "Hang on, psychological monitoring for what, Vertin? You think this is messing with our heads?"      "Is there already a procedure for What Now..."      The hiss of the emergency flare, held low to light Dylan's features from beneath, underscores her hushed impatience. "Yeah. Re-establish contact with as many of our people as we can, get in there, and fix whatever he just broke."      "You know, I've heard people call him a rock..."      "He looks like a suit," Marc informs Aika.
Chuyao He	"Sister, it has closed tightly," Chuyao answers Ahn gravely. The phone presents a hurdle only until he remembers the I Ching reading he took. At which point: "Ah, this auditor is unfamiliar with the operation of such a device, and, not being stationed here, does not know the sequence of numbers necessary to contact them. It is best not to offend the heavens by blindly selecting numbers." He taps his chin. "Moreover... what groundskeepers are here will no doubt be inundated with work. With that in mind... it seems I must use *that* technique..."      Chuyao closes his eyes, concentrates for just a moment, and lowers his shoulders. "Hohhh!" His skin turns a shade of red brighter than his official robes, his pupils and irises washed out to featureless white when his eyes open. The 'auditor' procures his steel fan, flips it open with a flick of his wrist, and makes a wide, whirling swat. A gust of air strikes his back and launches him towards the door, and his body twists to position him perfectly for a flying, superhumanly strong kick to break it down.
Flamel Parsons	THE MOTHERLOBE     "ASTRAL LANES" BOWLING ALLEY     http://files.at.decompressed.space/d107S37H     Two employees were around, acting as both conversation vessels and potential interrogatables. Agent Crensaw and Agent Kramer (http://files.at.decompressed.space/XVM77BNe, left and right) had been involved in the expeditions, and surely their testimony could represent a reasonable source of caution. They'd been pretty tight-lipped, though, which made an interrogation difficult, as well as leveraging them for a funny reference. Agent Kramer's on her way out of the bathroom unsteadily as well just behind Ahn, having fallen in the chaos, and Agent Crenshaw is scratching his head at the screens in the relaxation area, nursing a small wound he'd gotten when one of the lights fell. Rufus had just arrived, and at this point everyone's mostly in a working state. When Chuyao springs into action, it at least gets Kramer into a hurry. "The door-- they're reinforced, something like a few inches. We can probably get out of the first one, but the second..." She runs to the glass door (http://files.at.decompressed.space/GSxHwF1Q) and first tries the normal Thinkerprint, then opening it telekinetically... "Crenshaw! Crenshaw, come *on*!" It's Chuyao's kick that forces it open, knocking one of the panes off and sending it skidding across the ground. But the metal one past it... (http://files.at.decompressed.space/gtwWfgzh)     Someone's shouting. "Help! Help! The doors, the doors!! HELP!! THE DOORS--!!" Someone on the other side of the doors. Blasts of psychic marksmanship, and... strange, heavy thuds. One slams right into the two heavy metal panels. Crenshaw and Kramer start trying to wrench it apart too, but they're yelling for help... It'll be one Chuyao can smash down as well!     Another strange rumble sounds from the ground in the hallway to the bowling alley. On *their* side of the door... The thick glass doorpane on the ground is crackling strangely.
Flamel Parsons	THE MOTHERLOBE     "FORD'S" BARBER SHOP     http://files.at.decompressed.space/MmEN6iNI     http://files.at.decompressed.space/fEOwN9Df     http://files.at.decompressed.space/JqEqGdur          Getting inside here is gonna be tough. There's still security readers on backroom doors for a barber shop. And it's not looking good in here, like it hasn't been used in quite some time, seen through the dirty window of the back entrance door that needs to be physically wrenched or smashed open somehow. Marcus or Greta (or, quite possibly, Aika) will have to find some way to tear it open, and keep it closed behind them, while the backup power on a Thinkerprint reader makes it whine and shout. Further in, there'll be even more doors like this to worry about... Once they get it shut behind them, it rattles unnervingly in the wind.     The glass door to the main atrium looks out on only darkness. Pairs of circular lights move in the dark, like headlights spaced inches apart. There's a sound of yelling and shouting, flashes of orange, and strange, loud thuds every so often. A facilities engineer is ducked under a doorframe for safety, when the next rumble comes through. "Careful!" He hollers. "Stuff's been falling from the ceiling, and I hear people sounding like they're hurt... I can't get any of the doors open." With janitor keys? What the heck?     There's a sound of a loud *smash* from the Atrium, and a heavy thud.
Flamel Parsons	THE MOTHERLOBE     PSYCHOGATE LABORATORIES     Trailing Flamel out of the labs is tough, he's been in and out a while, frequently (and there's plenty of mechanical scents to mix in with the rock she's after). But maneuvering through the hallways of the Psychogate labs (http://files.at.decompressed.space/g5o3HGbS) means Hiromi gets a scent of...     Brain matter?     It's headed for the atrium, necessitating smashing down one of the doors -- and then, taking a fresh hole that's been carved in one of the walls. Someone had her idea on their way through, apparently.     There's flashes of orange in the dark ahead, in the Atrium. That's the way to where Rufus is usually spending his time, and where Ahn has often holed up in the Astral Lanes, so it's a good bet for her to reconnect, even though Flamel's scent has gotten absent by now. Hard to track that rock in the overwhelming smell of brain-matter that tracks something else. Still, this is the way to all kinds of other places he might have wound up.
Flamel Parsons	THE MOTHERLOBE     ATRIUM     http://files.at.decompressed.space/KtoHP3Q5     http://files.at.decompressed.space/hTa2Sx3d     The place has been trashed. A fifteen-foot-tall figure strides in the dark. A pair of glasses three feet wide rests just aside the door. Long limbs, humanoid, and a titanic four-foot-wide red circular NO symbol stamp in its hand. "No." It whispers, softly, walking towards the sounds of noise. "No." A technician, huddled behind the table, whispers tensely to Chuyao and everyone else emerging from the bowling alley, "Shhh! Shhhh!!"     The figure strides quickly to the door where it last crashed, whispers, "No", leans down, and stamps the metal harshly, right in front of the Barbershop. The NO symbol densely stamped into it is almost comical, if it weren't for blood dripping off the stamp...     Over near the bowling alley doors, though, the technician just keeps mouthing at Rufus, Ahn, Chuyao He, and their two allied agents: "The doors! The doors!" He doesn't seem to be running into the bowling alley to escape, though?
Flamel Parsons	GREEN NEEDLE GULCH     THE AUDITOR CAMP     In the camp, Vertin and Regulus confirm things with Dylan and Marcus. Even Aika, potentially! Converging together, they find -- well, oddly, they find that psychic energies in this area are startlingly normalized. Like nothing in particular is happening. Somehow, it's deadened in comparison the strange, unnerving buildup that was happening before.     If Vertin has her Storm Clock on, it is now flashing 12:00, as if it were a microwave that just went through a power outage. *Something* Storm-like just happened, but damned if there's any more details that can be gathered without access to equipment...     Being outside, and having windows in the tent, allows them to see what can't be seen from the inside of the Motherlobe, though. Nearly impossible to see through the blizzard, but what's obvious is what emits hi-beam-like light. Twin white lights move in the sky, something like fifty feet up, sweeping around unnervingly, and drawing slow circuits around the valley, the quarry, and the silhouette of the towering Psychonaut headquarters. The mountain also has a more odd shape now...     They'll also note something more concerning when they're inside the decently-sized anti-blizzard tent, against the flat part to the side of the arch that gives it structure and space: A plain wooden door. Like you'd find in a home.     Rattling. Rattling... SLAM! *SLAM!!* Something hits the other side with furious force -- and then the door's gone, as long as nobody chose to open it while it was rudely knocked on.     Yet there's more sounds of slamming in the woods.
Hiromi	To say that Hiromi can move 'surprisingly' quickly and quietly is only in comparison to other talents. It is, perhaps, surprising to some as to just how quiet a large predator can be, but this is a talent inherent to wolves, and therefore one in which she, too, serves as the essential example. She is not necessarily unseen, but her footsteps through the atrium are below a whisper, as she first stops to examine the giant figure, and then works her way into a stalking route, guessing where it will turn by the time she's close, and maneuvering behind it.     She will not, in fact, leap the moment it does turn toward her. She's waiting for the moment it responds to her presence with the notion of violent rejection, readying a leg-breaking tackle. If it doesn't respond to anything but sound, then... that will be informative.
Aika Rosewater	"Oi! It's you!"     Despite the atrocious howling of the wind, Aika can make voices out just fine; and Regulus' wasn't one she was expecting to hear near Foundation staff at all, after last time.     "And it's you! Who's the plus one? No, no-- hang on, let me rattle my brain. Short, blonde and dressed to kill-- and I think I place the voice too. Timekeeper? Or do you prefer Vertin?"     Presuming this was the project's fault somehow was already on the docket, thankfully. This is the kind of thing that rarely goes without at least one headline, and they're clearly living through it.     "Not to worry, careful's on the menu. Can't say I've ever dealt with something like *this* before, so I'm not about to run off on my own." "Hang on, psychological monitoring for what, Vertin? You think this is messing with our heads?"     And that'd certainly be why.     "Oh, lovely. Well I certainly hope not." "He looks like a suit,"     Aika, who is also wearing a suit, briefly looks down at herself, in a sort of idle 'wait is that a good thing or a bad thing', before deciding it's neither pondering out loud: "Like, just a suit? Invisible man wearing clothes kind of deal or sentient suit or...?" From rock to fabric. She needs to print out Flamel's file next chance she has. "Yeah. Re-establish contact with as many of our people as we can, get in there, and fix whatever he just broke."     "But yeah, got it."     With Aika on her way in to regroup with Greta and Marcus, she gives Vertin and Regulus a quick: "If you need extra hands back out here, give me a shout. Try not to get stabbed in the throat this time, Regulus!" The barber shop.     Aika is more than willing to brute force the door open-- and brute force it back into place, afterwards. What a desolate barber shop; it's got its charm, but that floor is a tripping hazard all on its own. The darkness of the atrium beyond the glass door is unnerving, coupled with the screaming and the flashes. She's on her way to head for the atrium when-- "Stuff's been falling from the ceiling, and I hear people sounding like they're hurt... I can't get any of the doors open."     "Are you? Hurt, I mean. And do you mind sharing the keys? Even if they don't work right now, that might change, and we might need them."     Aika doesn't particularly wait for the engineer to confirm or deny being hurt before she inspects him herself, quick-like, and urges him towards the barber shop. "Stay here. Wait for us to come back. And if you have any information or what's out there-- those lights, what's making people scream, give us the rundown. The more the better."
Chuyao He	Chuyao twists after "Someone is on the other side! A few inches thick... then, with a strike of the appropriate strength and angle, they may be opened, without harm to those on the other side...!" Rather than smash these down, he places the still-unfolded Two Rivers between the seam of the door, positioning it for use as a wedge to pry it open.      "Colleagues!" He beckons to everyone in the bowling alley. "On the count of three, pry it open! One, two... three!!" Chuyao advances, whirling around for a spinning back hammer punch, the side of his unnaturally bright-red fist crashing into the steel fan. A ripple travels down the length of the weapon, leveling out where it lies flush with the door and to transfer the force of the blow laterally into the closed metal slabs.      "Are any of you trained in the healing arts?"
Rufus Shinra	> "No" |ENEMY SKILL GAINED: CENSOR SMASH| Rufus isn't paying attention to his skills list right now, though. Censors running amok? This is like in the (many) episodes of The Magic School Bus (PBS, 1997) where they're going through someone's body and the parts of their body assume they're invaders and attack them. That's just how Censors are when you're going through someone's mind, right? ... Oh, wait, they're *not* in a mind. This is the real world. "What *about* the doors?" He's more focused on the giant censor - oh, it's getting Hiromi'd. "Okay, so what about the doors..." "... Reinforce the doors?" |ENEMY SKILL: SILENT GIRL| It's like they say, when you have a giant hammer and giant nails, everything looks like a thing you can use a giant hammer and giant nails on. Rufus focuses on the doors- "Oh, *open* the doors." Well, a giant hammer can be used for more than one thing, thankfully. Open the doors! Wham, wham! "Oh! Is that the One Inch Punch?" he asks Chuyao He, excitedly, at a completely perpendicular tone and attitude to the ongoing disaster that's going on. "Did you learn that by getting buried underground, or is that only how it is in the movies?"
Persephone Kore	Marc and Dylan stay near the tent's entrance, toughing out the cold with their conveniently-warm clothes (and the flare! #myflare).      There's an unspoken understanding between them that, once one succumbs to the seduction of warm shelter, one will lose one's resolve to tough out the blizzard again.      "Hey, there's something in the sky," Dylan pokes her head into the flap to call back. "It looks like a helicopter, or... something?" "It doesn't look anything like a helicopter," Marc says, raising his voice over the fiery hiss and the howling wind. "What do you think it is, then?" "I don't know. Psychonauts rescue craft?" "Has it been long enough for anything to get into the air?" "Hmph."      Marc idly tries lifting his hand towards the lights and giving them a gentle telekinetic tug, hoping to get them close enough to eye level to tell what they are. It won't work if they aren't a material object... but that, in itself, would be useful information.      Just then-- SLAM! *SLAM!!* "What in the world--" "Was that a door? "We should--" "We should not open that." "Couldn't it just barge in, if it meant us harm?" "I don't know! Maybe it's a bear! Can bears open doors??" "A bear??"      Their bickering leaves the matter of opening-it-or-not to everyone else (so probably Vertin!).
Timekeeper	"That's Aika, she's a Paladin."     Given the circumstances, Vertin receives this information with a short nod towards Aika. "Vertin, the Timekeeper of the St. Pavlov Foundation. Good to have you here."     Where the physically manifested people have to struggle through the cold and the wind, though, TTT is safe in her device, though she eyes the crack in her screen worriedly. Consequently, despite the situation, she's pretty eager to chatter as a way to vent her stress. "Oh, hey, I know you! You were at the tour for the LSCC? Hey, hey, so what were you looking for? Any big plans? Business connections to make? With this blizzard, we're not gonna be going anywhere soon, so we might as well get t' know each other!"     A few seconds later, her smile slips off her face. TTT bites her lip and leans to look at one side of the screen and then the other, pacing around and wiping off some condensation on the screen as if it's a window for her to peer through. Less upbeat, "... Jeez, maybe we really aren't going anywhere. I'm all out of bars with the long distance signals knocked out. Hey, TK, you wouldn't mind dropping me into that wired up network of yours in the suitcase when you get the chance, wouldja?"     "I haven't got my suitcase; it's too recognizable. We'll just have to wait the storm out."     "Oh." TTT slowly comes to a stop, hands laced behind her back. As if the crack on the screen is starting to let the cold in, she shivers and rubs her arms. "Got it." "Short, blonde and dressed to kill--"     This version of Vertin's neutral expression means bemusement. Hat absent, furry coat thick with caught snowflakes, they're silent for two entire seconds before responding, "I don't mind either." "Chuyao might be alone in there."     "I'd like to reconvene with everyone if at all possible." Vertin says shortly, now that they all have a moment's respite inside the tent. "The shorter staff and the power outage likely means that any surveillance measures are out of commission at the moment, reducing the risk of us acting as a group. Until then, we'll try to coordinate over the radio."
Timekeeper	"You think this is messing with our heads?"     Vertin tilts their wrist to the side, where the nixie tubes are blinking at 1 2 : 0 0. "I believe it's likely. Parsons' Stormchaser procedure was a major inspiration for the Psychogate, in which he was developing a means to tap into and manipulate the Storm Syndrome. If his Psychogate manifests a similar phenomenon, you'll all begin to go mad."     "For now, whenever meeting with someone from whom you've been separated, ask a series of simple questions: about the nature of the physical world, their name and your name, and our reason for being here." > SLAM     Vertin startles and swivels towards the mysterious door inside the tent. "What's that?! Regulus-- be prepared to blind whatever comes through. That door-- it wasn't...." And just like that, it's gone again.     Vertin presses her lips together. "Was that a hallucination?"     "Not as far as I could tell, boss...." TTT trails off with an uneasy expression. She eyes the 'log off' door icon in the corner of her tablet suspiciously. "But maybe let's not go opening suspicious doors...?"     "Good call." Vertin hesitates, before tugging on the flap of the tent again, one last look over her shoulder back at the canvas that had the door. "As much as I suspect that door was caused by whatever Agent Parsons did, I'd like for none of us to go wandering off where we might be irretrievable. The investigation is important, but we'll prioritize survival first."     With that said, Vertin walks back out into the blizzard with the lights sweeping overhead. Squinting at them and ineffectually shielding her eyes with TTT's tablet, she says, "Helicopters...? No, not in this weather. They're not searchlights, are they? In any case, they're not likely to be friendly to us."
Timekeeper	"Has it been long enough for anything to get into the air?"     "It's possible they had forewarning for this event." Vertin folds her arms, staying under tree cover relative to the lights. "If it wasn't an accident, or was one they saw coming from some time ahead, they might have taken precautions and called for help."
Storm Investigators	"You know, I've heard people call him a rock..." "He looks like a suit," "A rock in a suit..." Marcus murmurs, letting her imagination wander a bit. After meeting APPLe, the mental image she's gotten from Aika and Marc already isn't all that surprising. "And one that might need a trim, at that..." "We'll know for certain if we get any odd looks asking around." Greta states with her usual lack of inflection as she nudges Marcus aside, giving Aika some extra room to get that door open. Nodding towards her lightly in thanks, she waves Marcus in before heading in as well, only letting out a low sigh of relief as the slightest hint that the cold even bothered her at all. "Thank you, Miss Rosewater... Oh. Is that door going to hold? I hope it doesn't get stuck like that." "Keep away from the doors for now, in case they do break open. We have more important things to worry about. Look." Gesturing towards the engineer, Greta and Marcus both keep their eyes peeled for stuff dropping from the ceiling as they hurry over to join Aika with the engineer. "We're looking into it, sir. Stay where it's safe for now, and don't come out unless you have to." Greta warns, looking around briefly to make sure there isn't any precariously balanced stuff that might actually drop on his head aside from those lights or the clock. While Aika asks the engineer about the situation, Marcus heads over to the door to check out the atrium from behind the door. After hearing that smashing noise and thudding, she's in a bit of a hurry to try and get it open, testing the handle first. "Those noises outside... Is that a body?" "It might. Sir, have you seen anyone or anything strange around here lately?" A longer pause, and then Greta finally asks: "Have you seen Mister Flamel Parsons around recently?"
Persephone Kore	"If his Psychogate manifests a similar phenomenon, you'll all begin to go mad."      "Right. Dylan is exceptionally emotionally stable, so at least she'll notice if I start going first." Marc takes this remarkably well in-stride, although while crouching at the tent's entrance he does betray his anxiety by fidgeting with his windbreaker's cuff.      The blizzard is starting to snow-dust his blonde hair in an annoyingly photogenic way.      "For now... ask a series of simple questions..."      Even though they haven't been separated, the pair look at each other. Practice! "Names, reason, date?" "I'm Dylan and you're Marc. I'm here because you were worried about Flamel. It's the... twenty... the nineteenth." "Wrong but close enough." "Hey, no fair! Names, reason, uh, freezing point of water." "I'm Marcus Heller and you're Dylan Cruise. We're here because we turned back after seeing Vertin in the storm. Two-hundred-seventy-three kelvin." "... point fifteen." "Give me a break."      . . .      After all that, though, Marc's still trying to (gently! carefully!) pull the light from the sky. It doesn't look much like standard Psychonauts technique; no grand gestures or glowy lights (or incantations, for that matter). Just a quirk of his manicured fingers, like his right hand is about to sign quotation-marks, and a distortion in the way the snowflakes fall.
Regulus	''And it's you! Who's the plus one?'' "Oh this is my friend Vertin." Regulus says but doesn't seem keen on reminiscing too deeply and then looks a bit uneasy as she places Vertin as 'The Timekeeper'. ''Try not to get stabbed in the throat this time, Regulus.'' "Why would you say that??" Regulus's voice rises an entire pitch level as she snips at Aika and, of course, rubs at the front of her throat uneasily. Regulus hears about a door that needs opening and naturally makes her way to at least check it out to see if she can get it in openable condition before -SLAM-- Regulus literally jumps back. "Yeah! Maybe let's not open tha...at?" She looks at the space where the door was and tensely picks up a stick and wiggles it around in the space the door used to be. "Uh." There's more slamming going on deeper in the woods. Regulus frowns and slowly looks towards Dylan and Marc. "Uh." And then she looks towards Vertin's wrist at the blinking 1 2 : 0 0. "...Uhh... Doesn't that normally tick...down? This is reminding me of a VCR now. That can't just break can it?" ''Was that a hallucination?'' "If it is, it's a hallucination we're all sharing..." Regulus can make meta jokes sometimes as a mascot character but she is just being serious here. Regulus draws out the psychoseismometermeter she's been holding onto and just turns it on and waves it around at the general area. Maybe it'll reveal something? "Glad to see you're doing okay, by the by," She asides to Dylan and Marc. "I was right worried there for a moment."
Vantablitz Remnants	'Sister, it has closed tightly'     "I mean I hope so. It'd be kind of embarrassing to have loose wobbly door at a . . ." Ahn looks around nervously. "Facility? I don't know; it just seems like if they went through all this effort on the architectural design, they should have working doors too!" Looking turns to giggling, twice as stiff and anxious. Her fingers wander up into her hair and curl loosely under the flower she has fixed there, while the hand occupied with her phone fumbles the lock screen input four times in a row.     'and, not being stationed here, does not know the sequence of numbers necessary to contact them'     Ahn blanches a little more. Oh god she doesn't know the number either! Ahn looks over to Kramer and Crenshaw, but now it's embarrassing! They have phones too!     'It is best not to offend the heavens by blindly selecting numbers.'     She didn't just go 'phew', did she? "A-ahaha, yeah you're right!" she says, on the verge of sweating. "The directory here is probably super confusing and everything anyways! Unless you're telepathic I guess, hahaha!" she adds with a horribly forced giggle, scratching at her scalp with her straying nails. "Well they say that in an emergency it's always the hardest to rescue people who didn't just stay put, and it's not like we're in any kind of immediate danger, plus I totally packed this big stupid bag with all the stuff I keep thinking we're gonna need on the psychogate expeditions so really if you think about it we're in the-- what do you mean that technique?!"     About four seconds later, Ahn is midway through a celebrity-grade gasp that is nowhere near done rising, crossing over into the pitch and volume of a squeak, then squeal, and then just sort of an incoherent Noise as she bounces up and down on the balls of her feet fast enough to be shaking off water. She is freaking out by the point he blows the second door off its rails; too loud to immediately notice the ominous crackling.     'Oh! Is that the One Inch Punch?'     "No! Jackass! That's completely different! The 'one inch punch' is a name for a type of so-called no-motion or reverse--"     Ahn is halfway through yelling at someone for being Wrong about Martial Arts before she actually process what the fuck is going on in the atrium by the time she catches up. She trails off, freezing in place and looking up, when the gigantic figure ambles over to the broken door, and when the gigantic blood-oozing stamp smashes it flat again, Ahn promptly screams about it; covering her mouth with both hands like she just did is so reflexive that it's actually effective at muffling the noise, which might raise the question of where she got that reflex, considering her dinnerplate-eyes stare and utterly petrified posture.
Vantablitz Remnants	'Are any of you trained in the healing arts?'     Oh no. Theoretically, that's her.     By the time anyone looks for her, which may literally be seconds, Ahn is already creeping back down the hall which she'd just come from, reasoning that the giant censor can't actually fit into the bowling alley. Rapidly whispering "This sucks this sucks this sucks this sucks why did I come here why did I do this why why why did I take the bait ohhhhhh this sucks this sucks--" as a private mantra, she finally notices the state of the inner glass door probably thirty seconds after she should have.     Not about to go fetch the Actual Psychics at this point, Ahn does her very best by forcing the squeaky gear shift in her brain to grindingly kachunk over one step away from 'blacksite disaster' and one step towards 'survival scenario, and valiantly, heroically even, twists on the flashlight dangling from her backpack loop clip, shining it around the hallway through a few gimmicky beam configurations.
Persephone Kore	"Glad to see you're doing okay, by the by..." "Glad you are too, Regulus," Marc says with his eyes skyward. "Hmph~. Never worry about me. I'm tough." "Do you feel that you're dressed warmly enough for the conditions? Dylan would be happy to give you her coat." "Hey!" "What?" "... No, you're right, I would."
Aika Rosewater	"Oh, hey, I know you! You were at the tour for the LSCC? Hey, hey, so what were you looking for? Any big plans? Business connections to make? With this blizzard, we're not gonna be going anywhere soon, so we might as well get t' know each other!"     Thankfully, having an earpiece makes it easy to keep conversing with TTT idly, especially on the way to the barber shop, and while idle otherwise. "I was curious to see how the LSCC works. I guess, especially, to see how they-- and the Foundation-- contain arcane threats. We're pretty ill-equipped for that back home. But seeing that place, I don't think we'd have much to offer in return. It's leagues bigger and more organized than any hunter cell I've seen."     Not that the visit yielded that much.     "Something to offer or not, we're allies either way. It's nice to see how your allies operate, and it's nice to see other worlds besides! Hm, come to think of it, I can't recognize your voice. You said you saw me at the tour? So you must be... staff there?" Or part of another tour group, maybe? "Is that door going to hold?"     "I sure hope so, but outside barricading it with those chairs and desks I can't much think of a way to fix that right now, and if the door won't hold neither will those."     Whatever can open those doors isn't going to care about a barricade made of furniture. They'd just be wasting time, like Greta says.
Regulus	''Dylan would be happy to give you her coat.'' ''... No, you're right, I would.'' "Hm?" Regulus asks. "Isn't that jacket something you've had since you were a kid?" Regulus is the type of person loathe to even hint at her background and especially not the trly precious items originating in it, but she WAS just complaining about the sudden cold... "Oh! I know!" Regulus says. "To make it fair then--" She removes her polka dotted scarf and offers it in trade! "Had THIS beauty since I was a kid too."
Flamel Parsons	MOTHERLOBE     ATRIUM     The tall figure turns to Hiromi, still keenly listening for sources of sound. "No." It-- *he* whispers. It's fifteen feet tall, humanoid, but now more clear: An Official. That's the only thing one could use to describe the shape, the ambiguous dark blues of the clothing, the stern but spindly hunch. He's warped beyond human proportions, but he moves with blind, steady purpose. In the unlit atrium, his stamp is coming down on every source of sound, and when Hiromi readies her leg-breaking tackle, she finds purchase -- a slam, a snap, a pained whisper, "No."     The stamp tries to leave an impression on her. Over and over. An animal isn't supposed to be here -- when the stamp comes swinging down at her, somehow that logic will find its way to her mind. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UPE-001: Censors Classification: PRS-2 Containment Protocol: Uncontained. This element is a natural inhabitant of a healthy human mind, and must remain in areas to which they naturally gravitate. When found elsewhere, such as during severe Auto-Censor Pathopsychic processes, UPE-001 must be eliminated at all cost from all areas not associated with high levels of societally-approved activity. Description: The immune system of a human brain, the Censor is meant to seek out undesirable thoughts, impulses, and even memories, and stamp them out with harsh rejection. Typically based on a human's conception of social structures, these white-blood-cell constructs seek and destroy threats to the mental ecosystem or anything that does not belong in the mind, acting as a defense system against psychics. However, severe disruptions can result in Censors targeting internal thoughts, failing to function, or even harming the host. ... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Flamel Parsons	The technician, previously shouting outside the door, shakes his head urgently at Rufus. "No!" He finally shouts, drawing attention from the huge, blind, lanky Censor -- though Hiromi will undoubtedly keep his attention. One of the nearest locked-down doors rattles terribly when Rufus smashes it. "They're still, they're all still--!" His shouts reach a peak, which is when the Censor just heaves the huge stamp at him, with enough weight and force to smash through the table he's hiding behind. Chuyao He's the only one near enough to help...!     Too late for Rufus. One of the doors he weakened gives way. Something pours out of it from the other side -- the other-side of the other-side, like when Rufus entered the Psychogate. This door doesn't lead to where it used to lead to! And it disgorges a cluster of horrible, bulky-headed demonic creatures, heads swarming with lit fuses. It emits a screech... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UPE-002: Personal Demons Classification: SHD-1 Containment Protocol: Uncontained. This element naturally occurs in a human mind when subject to common stresses, and must be permitted to expend itself in its appropriate environment. In excessive numbers, such as during excessive periods of stress, over-disinhibition, or exposure to UPE-006 and UPE-010, the source Psychohazard instance must be found and obliterated. Description: The natural byproduct of mental activity, the Personal Demon is meant to congeal negative energy in a self-terminating way. Typically densely packed with anger, sadness, or self-hatred, these voltatile mental figures should be given space and not engaged directly. Their reservoirs of energy can be used to purge other mental processes (beneficially or otherwise). Personal Demons are often found near UPE-006 in moderate cases, or UPE-010 in severe cases, and are naturally created by them in greater numbers. ... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------     They pour into the atrium, howling and smashing into things. One detonates violently, scattering chairs from a conversation pit. The blinded Censor, somehow, doesn't mind one bit. Are mental figures like that *supposed* to be here now?     Now that people have gotten clear of that smashed glass-pane door, *that* one is starting to rattle too! Ahn, amidst her effective healing of the panicking technician, gets a good look at it. It's starting to "open" against the ground...     But if she approaches it -- even gets someone else to, like the Agents who are starting to open fire on the Official -- it shuts tight. Like one's proximity is enough to stop it. But how could something come *through* a door disconnected from a structure? The structure rumbles again. Every door in the building rattles again, even the smashed-off glass one, albeit less intensely than the last time.     Maybe the core cause is starting to die down...?
Flamel Parsons	GREEN NEEDLE GULCH     AUDITOR CAMP     Marc gets a telekinetic hold on something. He pulls easily, for a moment. Then much harder, after.     "No." Is the tone of voice that carries through the wind strangely.     The twin lights are approaching under their own power now. And there's sounds of thuds. Noises of trees crashing. It can only be described as an Official of Society, of every society, of all society -- fifty, sixty feet tall, walking with weight that slams his foot through the surface of the frozen lake and ignores the ensuing cold. The twin lights sear out of his huge round glasses. "No." The voice rumbles the ground at this distance. He's scanning for something, scowling in a way that distorts his face inhumanly. A clipboard in his hands thrums horribly.     If no longer aggrieved, he'll return to his slow walk. Another twin light pair in the sky. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UPE-001-Gate: Censor Official Classification: PRS-5 Containment Protocol: Uncontained Censor variant, between 40 and 80 feet tall. Currently moving in slow patrol patterns through open areas of the Quarry region, necessitating movement in lower areas of Green Needle Gulch or the interior of the Motherlobe itself. All flight is currently effectively grounded. Description: Officials are a variant of UPE-001 that appear to be the result of post-Psychogate emergence decompression similar to observed dynamics in the L-57 phenomenon, as well as decompression experiments by our partners at Applied Ontology. Appearing minimally hostile when not aggravated by large action, it is not yet known where these entities emerged from. The clipboard held by each one in lieu of a standard Censor stamp exhibits ranged hazards atypical of Censors. ... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------     It wouldnm't be wise to do that again. The Queen in Veils could probably take some of these, but best to leave well enough alone when they're not in the way. But that's *very* informative. If Marc, or the others, ever listened to Flamel rambling about Psychonautry, they'll realize what they just saw.     Now here's something interesting. The Psychoseismometer that Regulus "acquired" is actually pinging. Every time there's a wave of that "someone slamming on a door" sound, it pipes up. In the gaps, it eases off. But it's no longer going wild, detecting absolutely massive amounts of energy. Right now, as far as her gear says, it's... just the level of stress you'd see in an earthquake. Whatever energy rises and falls with that slamming sound, it's not overwhelming anymore.     And it's dying down. Maybe not soon enough, though. There's the sound of a door smashing open -- farther off this time, but still loud enough to hear wood splinter and shatter. A distant shack maybe, or one of those abandoned buildings from the ghost-town tourist trap that's a ways away. Someone may want to check that.     Someone may also want to check what's coming through the blizzard. A flare warms and warns as one winter-wear-bundled humanoid makes their way towards them -- followed closely by a phantasmal humanoid in robes, keeping pace.
Rufus Shinra	Okay, so they *should* have reinforced the doors. This is just like in that one episode of the Magic School Bus (PBS, 1997) where all the kids were convinced that Ms. Frizzle had turned their parents into vampires (it makes sense in context). Is this when Rufus should bring that up? No, too clunky of a setup for the reference. He'll bide his time. Also, there's exploding bats, so everyone would be distracted. "... Hang on, this... isn't the bowling alley." This *continues* to not add up. (Rufus is not naive, but he is operating from a place of assuming that the scientist telling him things knows his stuff and nothing will go wrong and the profit chart will go up and a Jurassic Park scenario will not happen.) Rufus whips out his shotgun and takes aim, playing defense against any of the Personal Demons that come their way. "This isn't supposed to be happening!" he cries while firing. "I think something might have gone wrong with the psychogate!"
Hiromi	Wary of what effects it might have apart from 'crushing,' Hiromi would move to avoid the censor's stamp -- but after hearing a sound of pain from what she'd thought a magical construct or automaton, she's momentarily surprised. Her arm wards the blow, but contact is made, and she, proud nonhuman that she is, is rejected.     The thought is felt, but fails to find purchase. She growls, <Strength is the ultimate arbiter of that which is permitted.> Psychic phenomena should not be dependent on the physically analogous by definition, but in her presence, the rules operate otherwise. Failure to crush implies a failure to reject. It's not to the level of having had no effect at all, if only because she accepts it as a challenge against her own authority.     By one broken leg, Hiromi pulls the Official in and down with her left, aiming a straight right through his body, claws extended, and slashing upward upon contact. Not fast enough to save Chuyao He from having to deal with the thrown stamp, but thoroughly enough to leave only many disconnected parts of a humanoid figure by the end.     The Personal Demons are a different story. Something like this, she expects, has no concept of authority in the first place.     "Earth and stone. Is there none?"     There are meeting tables and raised, possibly floating platforms. Those will have to do. Hiromi leaps to acquire as large a chunk of (to her) undifferentiated furniture as possible, and charge it into the open doorway.
Flamel Parsons	THE MOTHERLOBE     "FORD'S" BARBERSHOP     "And do you mind sharing the keys?"     The facility engineer (janitor) frowns a bit, but shakes his head. "How? I can't go giving out my brain-lobes." Looks like the security systems here are based on neural scans! "I keep hearing people yelling when there's other sounds. Someone shouted to stay quiet... Didn't hear much after that."     He shivers a bit, thinking the worst. Then psychically extracting the worst from his head, balling it up like a bad idea, and throwing it into one of the trashcans. "They're probably okay, but we should stay quiet. This definitely isn't a normal earthquake-storm-combo."     If Aika smashes down the door, she can probably get through to it. Marcus can't open the door, everything's locked down... Aika should have the strength -- although, Marcus might note something odd. There's... pulsing waves of reading-simplification, if that makes sense. There's normally a dense array of information about what's in front of her, of course arranged in technical documentation. And it's her choice to read it, or not. But there's this... pulse, in space.     A low rumble moves through the facility again, and instead of a thick book, what is in front of Marcus is "THRESHOLD". Whether it were reduced from a book to a simple slip of paper, or a book with only that one word in it, is largely irrelevant -- it has lost vast amounts of complexity, endowed with a simple truth: This is a threshold and nothing else, as seen by the human mind. This door, and nothing else in the room, only the door. When it softly rattles, something that she can't see through the glass tries to get in from the other side...     And then it's gone. The rumble dies, and the door's at its regular level of complexity. These rumbles seem to be growing weaker over time, too. Thank goodness...
Chuyao He	No! Jackass! That's completely different! The 'one inch punch' is a name for a type of so-called no-motion or reverse--     Chuyao blinks owlishly at Ahn, then clears his throat, seeking to be diplomatic even in an awful situation like this. The unnatural red hue and white eyes fade to their normal tones. "The impassioned sister is correct; in fact, brother, it is called Whipping Fist--" Shhh! Shhhh!!     Social reflex, more than danger, quiets Chuyao, just in time for him to see the danger itself. He takes a step backwards, his face turning pale with horror. He beckons, desperately, to the technician, only for his brow to knit in confusion and concern. The doors? ...The doors! Perhaps they mean to use them as a weapon! If he can just-- No!     A heavy thing like that stamp, even for the censor, takes effort to throw. To alter its path on its course would take an equal or greater amount; to shatter it at a structural weakpoint may be feasible, but--there is a bystander involved who can't afford to gamble on what may be feasible. It takes much less force to throw a person than it does a giant stamp. "Tss!" Chuyao's legs drop as he twists at the waist, one hand hovering near his head in a deflection and one--the one holding Two Rivers--going low as if to strike at an opponent's inner leg. His wrist flicks upwards, adding to that same suggestion.     A hurricane-force updraft lifts the technician straight upwards, clearing the trajectory of the stamp and the table splinters alike. Chuyao leaps into the air afterwards, rising into a frontflip, closing the fan and slipping it into the sleeves of his robe just in time to catch the technician in his arms. Landing with perfect poise, he sets the technician down.     "This auditor will protect you with his life. As silence no longer has its uses, please explain, regarding the doors."     Throughout his explanation, Chuyao's eyes are locked on the censor, studying how he moves as Hiromi grapples with him. "Agent Crenshaw, Agent Kramer, it would seem the sister of imposing stature has the giant official in hand, but your watchfulness would be appreciated all the same."
Persephone Kore	"Hm? Isn't that jacket something you've had since you were a kid?"      Now, see, what Dylan meant was her coat, the red puffer thingy she put on when it started to get really brisk out. But when a lady asks for your jacket...      "W-well, uh! Obviously I'd want it back, but lending someone cold a jacket is just the right thing to do, right?" She peels off both layers, laying them around Regulus's shoulders- toasty!- and leaving herself wearing just a white short-sleeved t-shirt, crossing her arms and smiling self-satisfied even as the cold starts to give her goosebumps.      "Had THIS beauty since I was a kid too."      "... Huh?" Her smugly-shut eyes open again, and then she blink-blinks, takes the polka-dotted scarf, and ties it around her upper arm. "Oh! Haha, thanks, I get it! Y'know, it's kinda like how princes give knights their handkerchiefs, right?"      Don't princesses do that? Dylan?      It's hard to tell with her darker skin, but she is blushing a little.      Marc unfortunately has other things to worry about. 'Reeling down' what turns out to be a very, very, very big Censor means bending it forward at the waist, which means it looms over him and Vertin. He straightens up, smiles anxiously-apologetically, gives it a nervous little wave, and then puuuushes it back upright before straightening out the lapel of its jacket.      "R-right then. Ahem. Uh. Sorry to have given you the trouble sir. Be seeing you. Keep up the good work." Dylan peers over. "... Dude."      "Well how was I supposed to know? You thought it was a helicopter!"
Timekeeper	"Dylan is exceptionally emotionally stable,"     "Good to hear." Vertin, for her part, isn't even entirely assured in her own emotional stability. It's hard to imagine that Flamel made a perfect replica of Storm Syndrome even if that's what he was trying to do for whatever reason, and Vertin's only immune to that, not any other psychic meddling. "I'll be counting on you." "Why would you say that??"     Vertin half-turns back when Aika calls out to Regulus, and then thinks better of it. Instead, more quietly, she just says aside to Regulus, "I do appreciate what you go through for my sake." "Doesn't that normally tick...down?"     "Only with the approach of the Storm," Vertin says, turning the watch back towards themselves. That ominous association hangs in the air while they adjust the nixie tubes to start ticking forwards as a clock instead, until they add, "I'm not sensing any of the Storm's arcane energy right now. More likely, it's being affected by some invocation similar to the Stormchaser procedure."     What comes next is almost certainly a trudge through the increasingly miserable forest to reach the Motherlobe and regroup. Vertin visually ascertains everyone's presences and draws her coat around herself, thoughtlessly tucking TTT into the coat as if she needs to stay warm that way. Marc's fiddling with the lights is all she's waiting for, while TTT leans into a rotary phone inside her screen. "We're pretty ill-equipped for that back home."     "Oh yeah? You get a lot of arcane threats where you come from? Big scary critters, magical storms gone out of control?" Vertin's habit of restricting herself to mostly mission-relevant talk during critical situations leaves TTT adrift with the opposite need, so Aika becomes her source of stress relief. "And you betcha. The LSCC's like a well-oiled machine, if that oil were gasoline instead, and everyone's favorite hobby was juggling matches."     "I'm TTT! Not staff! Just what you see's what you get!" "Y'know, it's kinda like how princes give knights their handkerchiefs, right?"     Vertin instead occupies herself with watching Dylan and Regulus fumble around with each other with a dim atmosphere of amusement. A thought floats across her mind and she turns her head to the side to speak into the tablet. "TTT? Could you make a reminder for me?" "Right now? Uh, yeah? Saved locally, though, so!" "At some point I ought to introduce Matilda to Dylan." "--Ahahaha! Ouch!" "No." "Uh. Sorry to have given you the trouble sir."     Vertin's eyes widen incrementally when the giant official looms over the camp. Despite the visible fear, her voice is perfectly even when she adds her voice to Marc's. "Our apologies."     After he leaves, a small puff of fog slips out from her lips in a sigh. "Surely we didn't miss a giant's presence in this forest this entire time. Is that what's behind the doors?"     On that line of thought, and not wanting to split up, the sound of the door breaking compels Vertin away from it rather than towards. "We don't know what else is in this forest. There's no guarantee it won't be overran in an hour by more similar constructs, so I suggest we hurry to the Motherlobe, and stay close to Dylan for warmth."     Scuffing through the snow only gets so far until the other group intercepts them, and Vertin purses her lips behind the fluff of her coat. "Dylan? Are you able to read their minds to figure whether those are Psychonauts or something else?"
Hiromi	<J-IC-Scene> Rufus Shinra, entirely seriously, "So I think there might be something going wrong."     "Breaking of paths."     Hiromi only takes another moment of thinking before giving up on finding the mouth-sounds that a radio can transmit to get across the idea she needs to communicate. Instead, nearly but not quite at the same time, she bares her teeth, scratches the floor, turns just so, and growls, beginning deep in her throat and continuing outward.     In the atrium, the meaning is clear. <Worlds are defined by their laws.>     <As two seas meet at a gate, so do the laws of one world seek to enter another of lesser strength//pressure.>     <Where two sets of laws govern one place, there is chaos.>     <Look here! The same rejection and assertion of authority//right-to-be. A world that denies you and is denied is a struggle for survival.> This felt-meaning involves gesturing against the ground with a broken limb of an opponent.     <This is the chaos at the root of all worlds, that which remains without the acceptance//hegemony of law.>     <The paths//ways between differ between the worlds//laws. One asserts authority//decides being//defines space here, another there.>     <Our paths//exits are broken//blocked by the flood//invasion//encroachment of the world beyond the gate.>     How this sounds over radio varies, with hardened systems blaring alarms about 'psychohazards' and shutting off, and others triggering variably-comfortable sub-lingual understanding in listeners.
Aika Rosewater	"Oh yeah? You get a lot of arcane threats where you come from? Big scary critters, magical storms gone out of control?"     "Not arcane per your world's view of it, but close enough. Monsters, werewolves, ghosts, sometimes just people playing with glowing orbs they found and shouldn't have touched. You get the idea."     Idle chatter suits Aika just fine. She's not prone to stress, but she can't stand silence, or white noise that consists of alarms and screams. "And you betcha. The LSCC's like a well-oiled machine, if that oil were gasoline instead, and everyone's favorite hobby was juggling matches."     She wonders if Lilian is Mesmer's match, or if it's the other way around. That those two have a feud was transparent, but Aika's still unsure how much of that was on Regulus, actually. "Aha, is that so? I guess dealing with magical forces as a science has to include a bit of match-juggling by necessity though. Well, nice to meet you, TTT. Operating from afar? Are you like, Vertin's operator?"     She hadn't seen anyone else with Regulus or Vertin, and Vertin was already talking to her-- safe assumption to make! "How? I can't go giving out my brain-lobes."     Aika squints. When will they stop ruining perfectly good technologies? Keys were already perfected! "They're probably okay, but we should stay quiet. This definitely isn't a normal earthquake-storm-combo."     "We gathered that much," Aika laughs, before giving a drawn out and exaggerated sigh. "Either way we'll do what we can to secure the perimeter, so don't go wandering off-- but keep available, if we end up needing you for your... keys." Don't call them keys if they're not!! Call them like... psykeys. Gosh!! Aika would knock something off a table if she was alone. Instead she smiles wide, heading towards the glass door to the atrium that Marcus is examining so attentively.     It's just a door, to her.     If there's anything off about it, or off about the other side, she ascribes it to the entire place's feel. Since Marcus is staring, she elects *not* to brute force through it just yet, instead asking the arcanist:     "Do you need me to make us a way? Can't promise I can do it without breaking the glass though." She's certainly willing to try, but the more force it takes to open that door the more likely the glass breaks, and then there's no closing it if they have to.
Persephone Kore	"Currently, my acting hypothesis is..." Marc murmurs while collar-fidgeting. "... There's been a mindscape eversion event, causing psychic phenomena to manifest in the real world, and the 'censors' are working to mitigate it."      "I... think... the Foundation staff will be safe if left here. I don't believe the Censors will mean us harm if we don't get in our way. I just don't want to see whatever-it-is that needs that to clean it up."      En route to the Motherlobe, Dylan manifests a fifteen-foot-across bubble of yellow sky and red sands around herself, as if it were the surface of Mars (although with perfectly breathable air). It's toasty-warm and dry; the swirling snow and howling wind stops at the bubble's edge. Snow-drifts simply become sand dunes as they enter Dylan's range, and then become snow again just as sharply as they exit.      There's the sound of a door smashing open -- farther off this time, but still loud enough to hear wood splinter and shatter. "Marc, you check that out. Regulus with him too, if that's okay." "Of course. Give me the flare?" "But... but... fine." "Thanks."      Marc has the sizzling flare float ahead of him as he trudges through the trees, tensely, towards the source of that door-splintering noise. That leaves Dylan, at least, with Vertin when...      one winter-wear-bundled humanoid makes their way towards them -- followed closely by a phantasmal humanoid in robes      "Dylan? Are you able to read their minds to figure whether those are Psychonauts"      Dylan nods once, shifting her bat from hand to hand. The conspicuous nature of her bubble (#mybubble) means there's little hiding from the approaching pair, but at least she can figure out how to treat them.      Her heart opens to theirs, because she really would like to get to know them. How do they feel? What can she put together from their moods and intentions? Failing that, 'why are they the way that they are'?
Regulus	"Huh..." Regulus says, frowning at the psychoseismometer. "Vertin, it looks like the psychoseismometer is still active." At this point the 'doorsmashes', however unsettling, are kind of settling into background noise in Regulus's own psyche so when the meter jumps again with another doorslam, she just points to it. "You see there, Vertin? It jumps with every door slam, but all that ambient negative psychic energy is just outta here!" She frowns faintly. "...Did Flamel just shunt it off to some other place and now all the negative vibes are somewhere else trying to get back to the source or..." She looks up at the ginormous Censor. WAith a clipboard that could kill. "...But then there wouldn't be one of those up there, would it? Unless, maybe it's a side effect of all those negative vibes suddenly poofing...? I don't think it's just reacting to us getting spooked by those doorslams if it's still spiking after like the fourth one." Regulus no doubt uses jacket and coat relatively interchangably and no doubt imagined Dylan would also prefer to keep warm but maybe didn't need a coat AND a jacket whereas two jackets can end up equivalent(?) to one coat--but then Regulus ends up with both and she's wondering if Dylan is like immune to the cold for a moment before she sees-- "W-wait you need to be warm too right?" She's still offering the scarf and then now is offering Dylan HER jacket as well so that they both at least have a jacket. At least this should probably mean roughly appropriately shared coat results. ''It's kinda like how princes give knights their handkerchiefs, right?'' Regulus is briefly confused but says, "Yeah! Like that, but also, er, it's a touch nippy isn't it?" She understates severely. ''I do appreciate what you go through for my sake.'' And this is why Regulus didn't want Aika to say anything. While Regulus was perfectly fine to rant on about it before, she's now perfectly determined to understate it. "Was just a small nick," She insists to Vertin. "Was careless, that's all, I didn't expect it to get that serious. You don't got to worry." Vertin's got enough on her plate. So much on her plate she can scarcely worry about herself. So... Regulus nods. She's naturally only seen a glimpse of it working once before due to only experiencing one Storm before and she certainly had a lot more on her mind, but she's gotten some explanations since then. "But if it's affecting your watch, couldn't that also mean he's closer to unleashing one?" She desn't know HOW the Storm happened but it's certainly not GREAT to see this right now.
Storm Investigators	"Someone shouted to stay quiet... " "This definitely isn't a normal earthquake-storm-combo." "Was it someone you knew?" Marcus asks while fiddling with that door, stepping back to get a better look at the door as the words start to form in front of her. While she's trying to parse the strange pulses in front of her, Greta keeps her attention on the engineer janitor for a little longer before getting up. "Are earthquakes and storms supposed to be less severe around here?" Greta asks the janitor even while she's approaching Marcus, raising an eyebrow slightly at the confused look steadily forming on the junior investigator's face. "What do you see, Marcus?" "I can't go giving out my brain-lobes." It's a good thing Marcus is already looking at the door when she hears both Greta's question and the janitor's comment, because she looks and sounds confused once she finally responds. "It's... Simple." Marcus responds, squinting briefly at the door and raising her lantern to make sure she didn't misread something there. Spotting Aika coming by, she shuffles over a bit as if on reflex, like she's giving her room to look at the door as well. "'Threshold'.... That's all it says. It's nothing like any other doors I've seen. Nothing about what it's made of, who made it, the styling... All of that information is missing. It truly is like a threshold between us and whatever's on the other side." "The atrium." "Yes! We should be okay to go thr-" As Marcus approaches the door again, she sees that something trying to come in suddenly, and she lets out a startled noise before scooting back several feet at once. That's enough to get Greta reaching into her coat and already starting to slide her pistol out from an inner pocket, but she stops when she doesn't actually see anything on the other side. "Th... There was something there! But it's gone now. The door, too, it's... Normal?" Marcus comments, sounding even more confused than she did before when the door was reading as THRESHOLD. She spends a few more seconds staring at the door, then breathes a heavy sigh of relief shortly afterwards. "Yes, it's normal now. But I hear more noises outside..." "Then we should be ready to speak, fight, or run if we encounter anything. Marcus. Miss Rosewater. Are you ready?" Greta asks with her hand still in that inner pocket, eventually lowering an empty hand to her side as she hears Marc's response on the radio. "Y.. Yes, Madam Hofmann! I'm ready to leave right away." "Do you need me to make us a way?" Instead of commenting on Marcus' readiness to escape, Greta goes to check the door as well, just in case it might somehow open up to her complete lack of fancy abilities. "Please do, Miss Rosewater. Miss Cruise will be able to handle it if we need this area secured."
Regulus	''Marc, you check that out. Regulus with him too, if that's okay.'' "Oh--uh..." Regulus is terrified to investigate a smashed door right now but, gosh darn it, Dylan is believing in her so now she has to!! "Yeah! Sure. Let's do it to it. Don't worry, Vertin--I can actually make ''both'' of us invisible so it ought to be safe. I mean, as safe as doing anything can be." She looks over to Marc and adds to him, "Hey, you cool if I do that by the way? I can keep the flare 'visible' or 'invisible' or make it shine brighter--" She glances over to APPLe and tells him, "Look out for Vertin while I'm gone, would you?" She'll turn invisible herself, of course, and then follow after Marc--however invisiblized that he might want to be. APPLe, anxiously remaining behind, hovers in the air, still dressed up as a brain, "It's encouraging they're dressed for the weather..." He says. "Ehm... Could you please identify yourselves?" He calls out to them, holding both his stick figure hands into the air to show a lack of hostility.
Vantablitz Remnants	Ahn was just having a bit of a breakdown about this, and now look! Not only is she egregiously more stranded from her Watch allies than even before, she's literally locked in with the bad guys! And, and, it's already turning into, like, the fucked up space monster twist of every single sci-fi isolation fear media ever!     While Hiromi is busy fighting a fifteen-foot killer giant that just appeared in the lobby, and Ahn herself is stuck trying to patch up the one guy she'd genuinely feel miserable for just leaving to die in the process of sneaking out, Rufus is fighting off a zombie demon horde from Hell or something, neither Crenshaw, or Kramer have any idea what to do, and now the door is acting like it's poltergeisted and it's probably just going to make more monsters if she doesn't babysit it, which she can't, because this guy is wounded, and she's stuck there because of Chuyao, and now there's a shotgun going off and guys are exploding and her radio is blowing up with psychohazards that may or may not be Hiromi and--     'They're still, they're all still--!'     "Aaaaaaaaaah!!! I hate this! This is the woooorst!!" Ahn breaks into screaming over the chaos just so she can hear herself think. Squeezing her eyes shut and tossing her head back and forth, thrashing with pent-up stressed-out energy with counterwiggles at all, it's impressive she can perform first aid like that at all. "I didn't even do anything! I just wanted to help!! Why did I let myself get pressured into this?! If I get called a shut-in again then so what?! That's fine by me!!" Ahn escalates to angry-tanty wailing, big fat tears accompanying her and the technician she starts to haul away. "This is the pits! I'd rather be doing anything other than this!!! This was such a bad bad bad bad bad idea! And I knew iiiiit!!! I shouldn't have let myself get made fun of!! I should have stuck to my principles!! I could just tell from the second I woke up this was all going to suck so so bad and I just--"     'This isn't supposed to be happening! I think something might have gone wrong with the psychogate!'     As Ahn comes by Rufus playing his one-man DOOM act, shrieking anew as total bedlam now includes shotgun blasting self-destructing suicide demons that throws her off her feet, he catches the tail end of her coughing and howling to herself as she drags the techie up off the ground with her and limps towards the other side. "--KNEW I should have stayed HOME todaaaaaaaay!"
Flamel Parsons	EVERYWHERE     The rumbles are beginning to die down. The doors are starting to be less hostile. The whirling blizzard, however, is not. And what was disgorged by the doors is already there, and doesn't go back. No new threats -- but the old need addressing.
Flamel Parsons	THE MOTHERLOBE     ATRIUM     Rufus' blasts can take these out, though whether or not their explosions result in dangerous area of effect is another matter entirely. Still, the mistake is undone effectively. And he gets a good look past it. Through that open door, he can see it... the Collective Unconscious. Rolling hills of shining blue neurons he's seen many times before, now. But how is that outside of a psychogate? In another door?     The doors...     And then it's blocked up. Chairs and tables slammed into the frame, and the demons struggle to get around. As the rumbling fades, the frame rattles. And eventually, it suddenly snaps shut from the other side, a loud slam of an unexpected wooden door taking the place of the old metal. And as the rumbling fully fades, it creaks, slowly opening up to the old bowling alley hallway again...     Speaking of Hiromi, she's managed to heavily damage the massive Censor, which hoarsly whispers one final "No..." as one of its still-connected limbs shudders. The rejection of its Truth is complete, in the sense that she has proven it cannot exert it any longer. After several long seconds, the lights flick back on; that technician that Ahn was patching up, and who Chuyao saved, managed to get it repaired telekinetically, awkwardly getting himself sorted out after that rescue. It flickers in the emergency power, but it at least shows that there's a small handful of scientists who were cowering under a table (Hiromi took it from them) who are at work on telekinetically hoisting the Censor parts away. His insides appear to be mostly made of physical spreadsheets and policy manuals, various pens, and cubicle trinkets.     As Ahn has her mental breakdown, the glass door finally throws itself "open" from the ground, where there was no frame. The figure that emerges... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UPE-1396: Comforting Thought Classification: ANA-2 Containment Protocol: Pair with source of stress. Occurs during social interactions or naturally during UPE-010 self-terminations, exclusively in highly pathopsychized individuals. Cull when numbers are excessive, but this is rare, such as during severe delusion states. More effective to eliminate a source UPE-010 instance. Description: The mental ecosystem may generate these, generally externally, but sometimes internally, in response to long-term total loss of sense of supporting culture or society and short-term distress. Positive mental energies are artificially generated and concentrated using deep reserves (for internal generation) or False Assumptions (for external generation) to create worldviews enabling continued survival. Extremely fragile, known to be injured badly by excessive contact with aggression, censors, and sufficient quantities of memory information. If allowed to continuously exist near a UPE-010 instance, the relevant instance may be negated. Emits positive energies when unchallenged. Surviving examples are extremely rare due to the circumstances of its creation and challenges to survival. ... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------     It looks like a little pillow on top of six stick-figure legs. Bolting out of the window, it escapes before the thresholds fully close up, and scurries to the doorframe, emitting scared squeaks. It looks absolutely terrified of Ahn, ready to bolt away. And yet, at the same time, hungry. Ravenously starving. It keeps peeking at her from the doorframe...     Hiromi's broadcast is picked up somewhere in particular...
Flamel Parsons	EVERYWHERE     Radios burst into activity: "Morris Martinez, K.L.O.B. Motherlobe pirate radio, getting reports, or something reports-like, the Motherlobe is officially under *invasion*! Don't touch those dials, because if you're hearing my voice it's because it's cutting through the interference and you're definitely not gonna find me again. We're hearing about astral stuff happening in the real world, a gate, maybe a Psychogate opening under pressure? And reports that exits are closed off. Lady, you're telling me in a blizzard like this, I don't want to match through the Green Needle effect to try to get out of here. K.L.O.B. appreciates the work of its newest field reporter, who just beamed this straight into my brain and I'm very scared because her name won't fit in my language center. Morris Martinez *not* signing off now, I'm putting insulation in my studio and I'll teach you how to put it in your office in a second..."
Flamel Parsons	GREEN NEEDLE GULCH     The person with the flare has spotted Dylan's bubble, and clearly gotten more wary. Two fingers are placed on a temple, cautious, and the flare held out in front of them. A psychonaut for sure. They feel scared. Cautious. Determined to survive. Grumpy, but that's natural. And...     Some goggles are pulled down to his neck. It's Otto Mentallis.     "I think you'd better do the same at this point." His eyes narrow, flare still up. "I think we've got enough telepathy between us that I can say I'll know you're lying *this* time. Let's get you to my lab or me to your camp, but I'd rather not sit in this eversion, despite the..." He visibly tastes the air in Dylan's bubble. "Toastiness."     "Wait, did you say 'yourselves'? Who do yoAUGH!!"     He jumps, almost throwing the flare at the phantasmal woman. She rushes at him, grabbing his shoulders, whispering, "They are invaders, they are deceivers and liars, they are from another world here to break your home they are--" A quick shove and she disperses like mist. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- UPE-1630-Gate: Invasive Thought Classification: SHD-1 Containment Protocol: Uncontained, to be determined. Targeted individuals should not be left alone during periods of rest. Description: Phantasmal thought of unknown source. Dismissed on contact with reality, but persists in attempting to target vulnerable individuals, especially during sleep, creating UPE-006 instances or possible psychohazardous full-mind states. Tracked Gate variant originates from Eliberian Collective Unconscious regions. ... --------------------------------------------------------------------------------     "We should get indoors." The man dusts off his coat. "My place or yours. It's getting bad here. Though I suppose it's getting bad everywhere. I hope you don't mind, my first choice when things got bad was to run a full sweep on my private security records and trace..." He gestures towards the camp. The woman's words get to him just a little: "You're not *responsible* for all this, are you?"     Time to get moving.
Timekeeper	"Not arcane per your world's view of it, but close enough."     TTT hums to herself, tugging on the phone cord as a restless tic. "Sounds arcane enough to me! What do you mean that it's not? I've got a ghost as a housemate and one of my favorite clients has an orb that glows!" "... There's been a mindscape eversion event, causing psychic phenomena to manifest in the real world, and the 'censors' are working to mitigate it."     That's a hypothesis that Vertin can immediately take into stride, as it becomes pretty undeniable that this is connected to Flamel's work specifically. Not being personally familiar with his work besides the one psychic conjuring of the PsychOddysey, she's willing to trust a psychic's opinion more than the scattered files she combed through.     "If it's a mindscape, then whose? Parsons' himself?" That's what the Storm in a Bottle experiment used at least, but Cristallo's description of what happened there didn't sound anything likt his. "No, it'd be someone else's, wouldn't it? Someone he was working on?" "...Did Flamel just shunt it off to some other place and now all the negative vibes are somewhere else trying to get back to the source or..."     "If the machine was producing all of that negative psychic energy, and now similar patterns are appearing in the readings accompanying doors that appear to invite psychic phenomena into reality, then it may very well be the opposite. That the Psychoportal has, in some way, enveloped us and the entirety of the valley, and the doors are threatening to expand its influence even further." Vertin rubs her fist against her mouth, sweating a little in Dylan's terraforming but not willing to take off her jacket just in case. "Even with the readings being more stable, I find it harder to imagine that this is an intentional outcome." "I mean, as safe as doing anything can be."     In the end, Vertin is less unwilling to put Regulus in danger than it might seem-- danger's obviously just part of living! She just doesn't want it to even feel like she doesn't care about Regulus's well-being and making the arrangement equitable in return. "Good. Keep us updated, Regulus." "Morris Martinez, K.L.O.B. Motherlobe pirate radio, getting reports, or something reports-like, the Motherlobe is officially under *invasion*!"     It's the goofy little twin-antennae'd tablet that lights up with Morris's voice, and TTT scrambles to angle the antennae of her own, smaller, digital radio inside the screen to pick up the signal better. "Oh! A signal! A perfect beautiful helpful wonderful--... oh, it's just coming from back near the quarry, huh. Darn. Well, no telling if the outside world knows anything 'bout this all yet, which could be good or mostly bad. A Psychogate bursting open sure sounds like an accident though, doesn't it?" "I think we've got enough telepathy between us that I can say I'll know you're lying *this* time."     Vertin adapts to situations like these perfectly, when a disaster forces sort-of enemies to become sort-of allies. They don't hesitate at all before agreeing, "Alright. We're headed to the main building, if you'll join us. Whatever accident occured with the Psychogate, we'd all like to put a plug in it before it becomes any worse. I'm Vertin." "You're not *responsible* for all this, are you?"     "No," Vertin shakes her head. She glances back in the direction Regulus and Marc went. Once they're all back together, the group of now-seven can finish the trek to the Motherlobe together.
Flamel Parsons	THE MOTHERLOBE     "FORD'S" BARBERSHOP -> ATRIUM     The door gives way easily under Aika's strength now. It did before, surely, but now it's even more just a door. It would be a tremendous problem for potential invaders, but not her! Once she gets out there, though... The Censor, keeled over under the remnants of the battle. The signs of struggle and violence. People beaten and bashed up. This place is a mess, near-empty, in crisis. There can't be more than a dozen here. But the rumbling died down on the way in. The janitor that they were with is emerging too, cautiously. "Still under lockdown..." He mutters, anxiously. He joins the others a bit aimlessly.     They're going to need a *lot* of help from a kinder sort of anomaly than they've had so far if they're going to get through this mess.
Regulus	BEFORE DEPARTURE Regulus is relieved that she doesn't seem to be over-worrying Vertin. "I'll keep an eye on them, but--yeah I don't think Flamel--" She trails off. Can she really say for sure that this isn't what Flamel wants? He basically said he was PRO STORM. Maybe this isn't the end result he wants, but maybe it's some sort of 'Step 2'. But she shakes her head, clearing her thoughts. "Could be. Could be. Though I don't know which would be spookier." She throws Vertin a casual salute before following after Marc. ''I think we've got enough telepathy between us--'' APPLe says, "Ah, my apologies for the pushiness of the Captain. She really does have a fascination with unusual technology--and she really was trying to prevent this from happening, but perhaps--we are a bit past the point of 'audits'." ''Who do yoAUGH!!'' "My word!" APPLe exclaims but at least it's dispersed quickly. "It seems it is certainly not just Flamel's inner thoughts coming out here, Miss Vertin. Ohh... I hope the Captain will be alright."
Aika Rosewater	"Sounds arcane enough to me! What do you mean that it's not? I've got a ghost as a housemate and one of my favorite clients has an orb that glows!"     Aika mhms, recalling a little piece of conversation with Matilda. "It's close enough, but I wouldn't want to offend, if putting everything under the same umbrella is a faux pas. Still-- a ghost? That must be interesting. The ones I'm used to are usually more the vengeful sort." "Th... There was something there! But it's gone now."     "I'm sorry?" Aika blinks, trying harder to see anything through the glass door. There is, of course, nothing, especially now that Marcus confirms whatever it was is gone. "Something... good, or bad?" "Please do, Miss Rosewater. Miss Cruise will be able to handle it if we need this area secured."     Ah... Aika nods, slowly, now on alert that there could be something on the other side-- invisible or otherwise. But if both Marcus and Greta are sure-- no, being sure doesn't matter anymore. There's people on the other side, and every second they spend debating whether or not to go through is a second they could have used to get someone out of harm's way. Or at least, to stop screaming.     "Aika's fine, please. Anyway! And a one, and a two, and--"     Aika makes way. Whether that means lifting the door, pulling it apart, or bashing clean through, depends on its cooperation to the maneuver. She waits, ears angled back, tail swishing rapidly left and right-- for something to assault them.     But nothing does.     "Guess it really is gone." "Still under lockdown..."     "I said wait behind for us!" Aika almost hisses at the engineer, unhappy he's sticking his neck out before being told it's safe. She takes a deep breath, regains her composure, and beams her best smile back at him. "Please."     What a mess. She makes for the nearest bodies-- to see if anyone even survived. She might be able to pull one from the brink if they're still alive, and that's priority one, having established a lack of threats in the area.
Persephone Kore	"...K.L.O.B. Motherlobe pirate radio..."      During their Woods Foray to try (and possibly fail!) to locate a smashed-in door, Marc complains in Regulus's vague invisible direction while fiddling with his earpiece.      "That sounds about like what I expected... I can't believe Flamel. ... What's 'pirate' about radio, though? You can't steal an 'airwave'. Pure nonsense." Oh, no, Marc...      He does eventually turn back if the noise can't be pinpointed. but not before...      "I think you'd better do the same at this point."      Dylan relaxes slightly and gives Vertin a nod before the figure starts speaking, but she still clucks her tongue. "Your lab, mister. Dylan Cruise, with Sapient Heuristics. And she's--?"      Oh.      Dylan lunges and swings her bat through mist just as Otto throws the whisper-woman off, then plants its tip in her terraformed Martian sand, leans her weight on it, and sighs in frustration.      "Vertin and the Screen Lady are right. We're here to fix Flamel's mess. We were hoping to fix it before it became a mess, but you know, sometimes the world isn't very nice to wishes."      ... In a Marc-waiting lull: "So who's Matilda? Is she cool?"
Regulus	''Morris Martinez, K.L.O.B pirate radio.'' Regulus is shuffling around in her bag, no doubt looking for a signal booster to fix to her radio, though this is all invisible! So it's hard to say for sure. "I can't believe they have a pirate radio, maybe Flamel's just especially a square compared to the others..." Regulus grumbles. Flamel's a big rock, she's decided, he can handle her being upset with him. "Which field reporter do you think that is? So far everybody's name has been pretty language-able..." ''What's 'pirate' about radio, though? You can't steal an 'airwave'.'' "--Oh no! Marc! You didn't know? You totally can steal an airwave. For example, did you know that if you tune a transmitter to the same frequency with the same sort of modulation and with enough power you can override any signal at the receiver--you essentially hijack the transmission with your own transmission--say a government broadcast. It's actually not that hard at all I can show you how to do it but probably it is not the time to try and make it harder for radio contact to go out--but what is called 'radio jamming' is usually actually just hijacking a radio with nonsense but it doesn't have to be nonsense, it can be rock and roll for example there was this one time they were going to do a radio broadcast denouncing the 'evils' of rock and roll and I couldn't let that stand now could I and so APPLe and I set up--" This will go on until they reach something or make it back to the group.