Scene Listing

||

Scene Schedule

||

Scene Schedule RSS

Owner	Pose
Lilian Rook	It'd be a crude misnomer to say that plans here have been settled, but the utility of playing videogames in a cluttered and dusty comms shack and chugging Mountain Dews with the transparent excuse of a tactical map can only last so long. Lilian's prediction hasn't wavered since earlier. The enemy is going to be here at nightfall, and not one Elite, nor civilian, nor especially Oreshnika herself, wants to be there when it happens.     The sticking point, preventing immediate preparation for departure before a fight could even begin, is twofold, but mostly begins and ends with the heartflt and pleasing (synthesized) statement:     "Okay. I can try. I won't ask if you can't tell me. But before you go, we have to get my brother. We can't leave him behind. It's important."     Something Oreshnika hadn't mentioned at all, until she absolutely had to, and yet which Tamamo had speculated from the start, according to a certain set of scrolls and a few words by a fox as old as she. Whether or not Arthur recalls is down to how much of his memory the dumbass act requires purging as sacrifice.     The group still has a half-fuelled G.D.F stealth VTOL gunship (and a flying snake demon, if Rita can contrive a reason that the uncomfortable ride is worth the nervously bad idea), and despite the fact that Oreshnika can't give them exact coordinates, because she doesn't have a GPS, and her brother apparently doesn't tell her where he goes all the time, they have a direction out of the 'village' straight into the frigid mountains, further north rather than towards the Sagittarius array, the last thing he touched (new clothes, acquired and washed for Nika weeks ago, gathering dust in a neatly folded pile), and multiple sets of talents that can work with that.     It mostly ends up with Lilian giving backseat directions to Bond. She doesn't know the precise location, but that they won't get there by walking, and each specific turn and shortcut to take to arrive there quickly. There's a short while, to keep talking and preparing, out of earshot of the poor, weird little girl who isn't too keen on subjects of death and gore. But it's interrupted rather quickly by the fact that ten minutes out (a week of perilous foot travel), the shadowy valleys between the mountains peel away entirely, exposing bare and ice.     Then weird, unbroken mats of pine trees of exactly the same size, then unbroken flats of tundra scrub grass after them. You pass over what you're pretty sure is the same frozen lake three times. Twice, the side of a mountain has the same carpet bombing job done on it, in the same way, in the same places, and only for lack of navigation instrument error does the flight arrive at two things; a small, flat bowl, where the peak of a mountain had caved in upon itself, reducing its height by two hundred meters and putting up crater-like wind-blocking walls, and beyond it, what looks to be an entire small city on the snowfields.     A portion of a city at least. All skyscrapers and plants and apartments. Frosted up, but glittering clean, smudged by the dim glow of lights on at day. The roads out of it are abrupt, going each way down the pass around the cratered mountaintop, and are blockaded and roughly torn up out of the ground a short ways in. The entire thing is surrounded by the enormous walls of an Urban Center, alive with light and electricity, but reconnaissance sees that the power plant is on the outside of the wall, pinging it detects that the most of the fortifications are arranged in reverse. Were the balaur brought, even that monster would refuse to go anywhere near it.     Lilian urges that the VTOL land up high. Ishirou can easily verify the trace lifesigns on the mountain top, along with an enormous mass of extremely dense matter skewered a kilometer deep into the rock, mostly covered with snow from above. The city is . . . off. In a disquieting way. One that makes Rita's senses tingle more than it returns any helpful error to him.
Ishirou	Ishirou came with the group but was in the R.E.S.C.U.E. Unit instead of riding with the group.  Smaller and about as fast as the transport, he can easily keep up without occupying any space.  It also means the unit is in flight configuration.  When the transport puts down, Ishirou himself transforms the unit from flight mode into hover mode, giving him a more humanoid stance than the flat fight mode. "I definitely detect life signs here.  Also, I am detecting an enormous mass of very dense matter a kilometer deep into the rock.  Something feels...weird here.." he says, though not able to give it more than a feeling, instead of what might be more noticeable to Rita.   Ishirou hovers down but stays at building height as he starts scanning for the exact location of life signs.  Starting closest to the landing point, and then going farther out to make sure not to miss anything, or not reveal any ambush point.   Though if NAZCA was here, he might not even see them coming before it's too late.  He considers trying to see if he could work out a trick with those steal jerks, maybe a way to return a non-response to alert him better.   Though it'd be very odd if they were here..
Rita Ma	Rita can, in fact, contrive a reason to bring the balaur. That reason is 'she wants to not be cooped up with other people* for a while', and also 'even under her control, it feels vaguely unwise to leave it getting steadily hungrier in the village'.      That last problem is easy enough to solve, with a couple of swoops into the suspiciously samey forests to snatch some wildlife. Otherwise, she and her unsettling steed stay only far enough away from the VTOL that its noise won't cause a headache.      The only disruption to its smooth flight comes when the strange city-on-a-mountaintop looms close. The Balaur rears up in hesitation; she has to set it down somewhere on the mountainside (with a couple of reflexive comforting pets to its neck) and approach the VTOL's landing site on foot.      "There's an Antegent here, isn't there?" That's the first thing out of her mouth as she rejoins the group, with a worried glance down at the city's walls. "I can sort of feel it. Ms. Oreshnika's brother- is he here to make sure it stays trapped? He's not inside, is he?"      (*Her girlbestfriend Petra Soroka, naturally, does not count as 'people'. Any additional passengers are strongly encouraged to hug Rita from behind for stability, and definitely not just because she likes hugs.)
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: AN OLDER BROTHER IS HER GUARDIAN     On his way over, Arthur winces, grabbing his head for a moment. >Arthur: TWIST HIS INTENTIONS OR THEY WILL OBSTRUCT >Arthur: CONTROL HIS NARRATIVE OR IT WILL DELAY >Arthur: HE IS NO BLOOM AND BEARS NO RELEVANCE     "Not listening, fuckhead." Arthur mutters to himself. Then he speaks up more properly. "You sure they aren't already turning a bunch of spacewarp shit on? Feels like we've gone by this lake already." He regards the city, eventually, and listens to Ishirou. He squints, peering out... "Shit, wonder what *that* is." He rambles.     Wait, is this guy on one of the nails? The pylons? Those weird things...? He has to preserve his strength for the spacewarp, but he can scan, at least. Does it have that same spacefeel as the deep pylon found elsewhere?
Trudy Grimm	Trudy has opted to ride in the VTOL with Lilian and James, occupying a space near the back of the transport, busying herself with something rather ominous at first glance.     She's set up a small array of small, glowing green crystals in a specific pattern on the floor, having seated herself crosslegged just outside it. One by one, she places small, bleached bones into the space where the lines of magic cross, eliciting a pulse from the runic array in sickly green tones. This prompts the bone to warp itself, transforming from a small cylendrical round and inoffensive shape into a star-like shape with spines protruding in multiple directions-- in such a way that no matter how it lands, at least one point is always pointed upward.     One by one, these are moved into a modest leather bag. One by one, bones are cursed, warped, and stowed. Fortunately, the trip is rather long and she's able to process a good deal of these cursed traps. With each one she makes, the gemstone     Some might recognize the rune of Gifts, Gebo, in the runic array, alongside the Eiwaz that she often casts her spells from. A 'Gift' of 'Death' leaves a lot to the imagination for what sort of nefarious trap the witch is using this time to prepare.     The cabin shudders when the aircraft lands, prompting her to glance up. The last cursed bone is completed and tossed in the sack, which she cinches shut. The crystal array's light fades and they all spill into her shadow whence they came, "Oh, have we arrived?"
James Bond	"We won't leave him behind," That was Bond's answer, short and simple. He doesn't bother saying any kind of pleasantry--that he knows how she feels. He doesn't. It's enough that her brother is important to her.      He's been outside for a few minutes, engaged in a conversation with someone in Paladins R&D about a disbursement he'd received for this mission. It's hidden in a sealed envelope, which was itself concealed within his fatigues. It's hard to discern what it does through his side of the conversation, perhaps purposefully so on his part. A lot of straightforward 'yes'-es and 'no's.      When he's done, he taps the 'end' button on his watch's touch-screen interface, and it resumes being a convincing mockup of an analog wristwatch. Flicking aside the butt of a Lucky Strike after ashing it against the wall, he heads back down the path to the VTOL craft to begin some pre-flight checks. And, of course, to wait for anyone that wants to ride with him.      Mountains stretch out like a frozen, choppy sea before the craft, Bond's hands well-used to the controls by now. Were it not for the color of the sky being different, the endless expanse of open ice that follows the mountains would be deeply disorienting for its vastness.      That vastness is broken by the odd, identical, repeating pockets of trees, scrub grass, the same frozen lake, the same bombed-out mountain. Bond's eyes flick down to the instruments, running a quick diagnostic on them through the touch-screen, and giving the customary flick. Nope--all good.      "That must be the place," he says, when the strange, frost-blanketed yet perfectly clean city rolls into view from the cockpit. Urged to land high, Bond answers.      "I'll make a pass," he says. "Even a building big enough to hold this might not be strong enough." If it's developed enough to have skyscrapers, maybe one of them will have a snowed-over helipad he can use. Once he finds a suitable spot, Bond finds the STOVL switch and coaxes it into a landing. He's hardly surprised when Rita approaches.      "The fortifications seem like they're built to keep something in, rather that other things out," he concurs with Rita. "My guess would be he's manning the power plant."
Cantio	Cantio's mostly quiet during the ride to the destination in the mountains. There's several good reasons for that, one of which being that her continued involvement in all of this necessitates not cutting any corners when it comes to preparing herself for the inevitable fight to come. She's got responsibilities at home, after all, and dying here would be a huge hindrance to all that! Another good reason to stay quiet is also not wanting to disturb the flying snake demon. Taking the gunship would've been safer, but morbid curiosity has her opting to ride the giant instead. Luckily, there's not much weapon maintenance to do on the way over beyond making sure she has an accurate count of how many sword bits she's got, so Cantio has plenty of time to just hang out with Rita and anyone else riding on the big old thing and snap pictures of what she can see from that high. She also offers some of those little jello shooters while holding onto Rita and other friends/friend adjacent people/Petra. It's definitely for stability and not because she also likes hugs. That ultimately has her noticing that the same landscape is passing by multiple times. She points it out quietly, but it eventually just blends into background noise for her until they reach the city. Ominous though the city may feel, there's a bit of relief at finally seeing something different after that initial fear of getting stuck in some kind of dimensional loop. "I wonder if we might have passed by it on the way here. The Antegent, I mean. It's..." She gestures at the giant skewered mass. "That wouldn't be it, would it? Unless that's what it wants us to think...?" Cantio's head is hurting a bit from trying to figure this out, but she pushes through and starts leaving her drones behind to let them just sit in the snow, burying themselves in crevices and... Waiting? They're definitely not doing anything but looking kind of weird for now, but they might be useful as an early alarm system if anyone starts blowing them up.
Petra Soroka	A diversion before the action. Petra's adrenaline-squeezed chest aches a little, after all the build up of battle plans, but at least it's just Nika's brother, right? He should be somewhere in the town, though why he's allowed Nika to stay here in this nest alone is... questionable.     With a cheerful smile and all the pretend confidence she can muster, Petra reassures Nika, "Of course we'll get your brother! We're here to help you keep everyone you care about safe."     But, of course, it's never that simple, and when Petra stands outside with the group, making travel plans to fly over the mountain, she glances at the Kana with a complicated expression, then over where the balaur is resting. "I-if we can all fit without it, I should probably leave the Kana here. We flew a lot to get here, and I wouldn't want its fuel reserves to dip too low before the fight." The words slip out of her mouth, knowing that the Kana could run at full power for days on end without issue. The gleaming machine looks repulsive to her for some reason--and not just because everyone's comments about the cockpit got to her. It feels out of place, on this little adventure.     So Petra finds herself on Rita's snake monster, hundreds of feet in the air, her goggles down and scarf tightly wound around her face to stay alive in the frigid wind. At first, she insists that she can stay stable on the balaur's back without holding on to Rita, but the moment it picks up off the ground she shrieks and squeezes tightly to the other girl.     Passing over the repeated landscape below, Petra calls out to Rita, raising her voice to be heard even though her face is pressed right up into her shoulder, "Hey, doesn't this look like the same kind of thing that the village was made by? Do you think this was all practice attempts, for making a safe area like that?"     Rejoining with the rest, Petra glances uncomfortably into the crater, then comments, "He's got to be in the power plant, right? If he had just come back to visit Nika a couple weeks ago, then there must be people doing shifts there. But... what could be in there? This is the only thing that's fortified at all, near the village. It can't just be the normal monsters."
Tamamo	Tamamo's riding over in the VTOL, so that she can stay bundled up in her coat and near Lilian, with the hull of the craft at least serving as a good windbreaker. "The geomancy... or, rather, the geography, would you say? It is a bit odd. Is this Oreshnika's earlier work, in an attempt to cover over something, by requesting the land be, ah, as a painter's mistake somewhat inexpertly smudged?"     She can also, given the bits of clothing they had, continue to divine a direction. What's more, once they're on course, she takes her time in trying to perform a more careful look, to see the rumored brother's surroundings. "Now, perhaps, he is..."
Lilian Rook	Lilian, looming around the cockpit panels to stare through the actual window incessantly, replies to Tamamo with strangely grave undertones for the innocuous oddity of the sight. "I don't get that feeling. I don't know. Didn't she say that she couldn't just make more nintendos out of thin air?" Yes, she actually says 'nintendos', with an air of tactical severity. "Nothing more complicated than she herself could understand, I believe. Then why skyscrapers? A power plant? Those walls and armaments. Would she really even go out here?"     Ishirou's low sweep over the mountaintop itself, above the snowfield, confirms that NAZCA has not somehow gone all the way around north and gotten way ahead of them. The cratered peak itself has only a couple of heat signs; a portable generator, what looks like an arctic survival dome, an outdoors stove, and so on. There are cameras placed all over, weather and seismic monitors staked into the ground, and the ubiquitous presence of radio masts this far away from civilization, but he also detects the crackle of small-scale protective magic. The city beyond the mountain scans mostly as a city does; a conflagration of electricity, heat, radio waves, and digital noise, fitting millions of lit and heated rooms blasting computer age devices every which way.     But it starts to bother him quickly. Nothing seems too amiss in the data itself. It takes POD and his good sense to notice that he doesn't actually see any cars on the roads, despite their heat trails. The tiny blips of faraway people he detects milling around don't seem to have a daytime traffic pattern. Most of the lights are on before it's even really dark, going by spectography. The transmissions he picks up seem normal, up until he recognizes a silly morning radio bit he'd already read back at the Urban Center weeks ago.     It probably has to do with the fact that Bond bringing the VTOL in for a landing pass doesn't get to the point of actually locating a helipad. Laser projections on the windshield HUD light up indicators all along the walls. Long range sensors warn him of impending active radar spike, and the engine automatically quiets back to its stealthed mode. A cool, synthetic voice tells him in Russian to maintain two thousand meter perimeter. Which means that the fortifications don't have an IFF code his just recently acquired G.D.F ride recognizes as allied. It's his choice whether to set down or push the craft's stealth capabilities.     Arthur's geometric sense avails him the same way as in London. Without walking the ruins of a capital and seeing the great rivet splitting the heart of an empire and drinking from its veins, it doesn't have nearly as dramatic of an impression; but even only feeling out the shape of the enormous spike buried through the core of the mountain and its fractal unwinding branches under meters of snow, somehow just the shape gives him chills. The same, but a little different.     At the threshold the balaur balks, and Rita is forced to look for a place to land, she becomes certain of two things at the next gust of wind. What she feels from her ignoble steed, through her psychic connection, is deep, instinctive fear. The city ahead, meanwhile reeks of Antegent to her accustomed tongue; so severely that it could be enough to make her sick. For some reason, what comes to mind is something she is one of very few people to have ever seen with her own eyes: a whalefall.
Tamamo	"Oh, no, not the city," Tamamo says to Lilian, while she continues trying to focus on the brother through the tokens Oreshnika had supplied them, "but the reptition of land, until now, struck me as such, perhaps. The city must have already been here, no?"     She thinks about that for a moment. "It is a rather strange place for a city, is it not? It does not quite seem as if it could ever have been defended, constructed as it is."
James Bond	Bond translates, for the benefit of Trudy and Tamamo--he expects Lilian will more or less get the idea, thanks to her Immunes training. "If the Understanding didn't convey that warning, it's saying that the electronics down there don't register as anything the GDF considers friendly. I don't think this a real Urban Center," he concludes, "Given the barricades, and now this. Whatever it is," he says, taking a hand off the controls to point out the laser grid on the cockpit, "The detection systems are very real."      The craft was at half fuel, when they left. Less now that they're here, and getting lower the more time is spent surveying the place. Bond elects to keep the stealth mode active and bring it in for a landing.      Granted, he doesn't seem happy about doing it.
Ishirou	The city absolutely looks dangerous and not somewhere he wants to be at all. On the other hand, he has things here to look at. He pings the magical spell for someone else to look into and then looks toward one of the cameras. They'd have to be connected to something, even if it's closed, and as he's here seeing one. So Ishirou reaches into the camera's themselves, trying to hack access so he can get a better view of the area, and where they all lead to.
Trudy Grimm	Trudy drops her bag of no-doubt horrible NAZCA traps into her shadow where it disappears, then steps up to the front of the craft while James explains his findings. She rubs her chin with one hand, the other gripping the back of his seat for support, "Mmm..."     What he describes and what Ishirou shared over the radio certainly have her concerned. She closes her eyes for a moment, her hand shifting away from her face. Gebo materializes above her hand, then twists itself into a chain with the rune of necessity, Nauthiz. Her other hand lets go of support and rummages inside her sleeve, after which she produces a handful of crystal beads.     The light from the runic chain pulls into the beads, one by one, and she offers them each to Tamamo, Lilian, and James, "A little protective charm. I'm not sure how well my wards against the trickery and hallucinations of ghosts will work on Antegent, but it's worth a try."     She has a few more prepared, to share with Rita, Ishirou, Cantio and Petra if any of them they cross paths with her after Bond has landed the VTOL. Assuming that is, itself, not a disaster.
Rita Ma	"Do you think this was all practice attempts, for making a safe area like that?"      Rita waits until they're landed (and offers Petra a hand down from the fearful balaur's back, in the process) to answer. "I don't really know, Ms. Petra. Is Ms. Oreshnika's power something that needs practice? I feel like she'd get that right on the first try."      "I feel like..."      She starts to make the hike and dismisses the balaur, for now- it can retreat to whatever distance she likes until she calls on it again. Then she takes a deep breath, and immediately shudders; even looking at her back, Petra can tell the expression of disgust that must be on her face. "I don't like this at all," she murmur-complains under her breath.      Petra's offered a hand to help her scale the mountainside towards the city's cusp. More brightly: "Mmmm. You're probably right, though. The power plant seems like the best place to check. You're going to be okay walking, right? I can carry you if you need me to!"      Only then, after a few more moments of trudging, does she finish her thought. "I feel like this was something else using her power, maybe. Something that wants different things. Don't you?"
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Get in there     Arthur just has to keep riding the VTOL if he wants to do that. And leaning out while putting on sunglasses would fuck with the stealth profile, so he aborts that a few seconds into figuring out how to do it.     Wait. No. Arthur's missing something. This is Nika's brother. Arthur needs to take that into consideration. What's the one way to get in contact with him that makes any sense? How can Arthur signal, "a friend is approaching"? Something's missing. >Arthur: Some kind of ramen-based flare?     Dumbass. Try again. >Arthur: Loud yelling     The group needs to seem Oreshnika-allied. That would do the opposite. >Arthur: Hold on. Genius idea. Streetpass him     Now we're getting somewhere. Arthur gets out his anachronistic nintendo hardware and turns it on just to indicate what type of person this is, even if he, himself, is not Oreshnika. Surely, a distant dual-screen will rumble gently to signal things. Arthur will try to disembark once Bond has landed, only stopping to snag anything from Trudy that he can, and then head for... where, exactly? That cratered peak seems to have signs of habitation, right? He definitely doesn't want to fuck with that power plant while he's still aching and sore from getting blown up by a mine, anyway.
Petra Soroka	Petra reflexively shakes her head no at Rita's offered hand, then hops off the balaur and predictably fumbles her landing badly. Despite normally jumping around with psychically-assisted ease, the red warmth burning beneath her scarf saps the gracefulness from her jump, and she stumbles and falls into the snow. Hurriedly clambering up to her feet and trying to casually wipe off most of the crusted ice on her jacket, Petra hikes along with Rita and Cantio, awkwardly silent for a few minutes.     "So if that's a Rivet... well, I guess we shouldn't need to deal with it now. But have you two... fought? one before? Explored? I don't really know how you interact with them." Petra's mostly just talking to get her mind off of the uncomfortable tension settling inside her. "What else would be using her power? I thought she and Rook were, like, unique, somehow."     Petra turns her face down and mumbles, clearly struggling through the snow. "I don't need to be carried. I-I'm taller than you, anyways. But, um, oop," Petra grabs on to Rita's hand to steady herself as a chunk of the sloped ground sloughs off the mountain face under her feet, "Ah! I, um, thanks, though."     Petra gladly takes a bead from Trudy, and then awkwardly cups it in her hand, unsure of what to do with it without a sufficiently charm-y necklace to hang it on. Eventually, she just puts it in her pocket.
Cantio	BEFORE/DURING THE RIDE "It won't be anything normal here, I bet. If it was anywhere near normal, I doubt we'd have had any kind of encounter with someone like the NAZCA to begin with." Cantio taps her chin, starting to speculate a bit on their involvement here. "And if we've survived one encounter with them, I don't doubt they'll come out to find us again. They might even have..." Wait. She's supposed to be reassuring for Nika! Shifting gears, Cantio clears her throat before putting on a confident smile to mimic Petra's earlier bravado. "Well, whatever more they have in store, we've got experience fighting them now along with an increase in overall power compared to before. We'll be alright." AFTER THE RIDE Cantio's looking a smidge frozen by the time the balaur lands, but her puffy jacket and thick gloves (not mittens) along with stealing body heat (?) from Rita are certainly better than nothing. It takes her a few moments to disembark and remember how to feel her legs, but feel them she does! Eventually. With Ishirou warning everyone not to go near the city, though, that forces Cantio to leave fewer drones behind than she'd like. "Fooling your... Hm. That could be the Antegent or the NAZCA, but with what Bond's brought up about the electronics being messed up and-" She nods at Tamamo next. "-what Tamamo mentioned about this city being in too strange of a place, my money's on it being the Antegent." She finds herself nodding as Arthur speaks of the spikes through reality, and then she strokes her chin again while approaching Trudy as she offers the protective bead. "Thanks! Every bit helps, and it might just be the difference between everyone escaping unscathed or missing... Something." Cantio reassures her with just a bit of an ominous tinge, then raises an eyebrow at Rita's mention of the power plant. Also, snickering quietly at Petra taking Rita's hand. "That... Does remind me, actually. Do we have a clear idea on what that power is, even? I..." She rubs her head lightly while dragging herself along, fighting the urge to power up just to float through all of it and risk revealing their presence too soon with a transformation light. "I feel like we've seen glimpses of it, sure, but I'm still drawing blanks on what it exactly... Is? I mean, for dealing with the Antegent or NAZCA or... Why they want her in the first place.
Lilian Rook	Tamamo's divination of the articles is surprisingly strong and vivid once the craft gets close. Oddly enough, she encounters resistance to the attempted scrying, at first. Not more than she can deal with, but not inconsequential either; deliberate, and not some random aberration amongst the multitudes. Hazy sights of a fire, a messy desk, and clunky machinery, mostly. As she tunes it in further, the clarity suddenly massively increases once the VTOL is 'on-site', as though some particular veil were lifted.     A man perhaps in his late twenties, pale blonde and lean-faced, missing a few haircuts and a day's shave, wearing a recently undone parka over a sweater, snowmelt dripping off of him. Dim indoor light. A false fireplace. A low ceiling and bland walls. A corkboard covered with letters, notices, photographs, and diagrams. Several she recognizes involve Nika herself, at younger ages. Many geometric traceries are of the city below, without any respect to its zoning or points of relevance. One looks to be an impression of a massive rivet she can only assume is another Tree, given a cross-section of the mountain and the blurry reading-form of it. A study?     The gear on the desk is a clunky HAM radio by the looks of it, and an old-fashioned typewriter, for unknown reasons. A modest wooden desk with an unreadable book and a gnarled and silver-shod hiking leaning on it, ahead of a cheap plastic table seated for four, but empty. Looking for a window, she sees that curtains have been drawn over barely a porthole, likely to trap heat. On the desk surface before him, freshly made coffee, three dog tags loosely strung together, and three quarters of a hand-drawn map of some section of the mountains, attended to with a graphing pencil, sitting atop a stack of other, occluded maps. She recognizes both a corner of the Sagittarius array, and the tag he is wearing over his sweater being Immunes issue dark grey; similar to the ID Lilian carries while leaving the tag itself in her locker.     Hacking one of the mountaintop cameras gets Ishirou a closer, mostly ground-level view of the bowl where the peak should be. The camera pole itself is far too high to be normal, especially at this altitude. The survival dome itself looks to be sized for maybe half a dozen people, and has three snowcraft under weather cover, but there's only one set of tracks in and out. Sweeping it around the grounds, it seems that fresh fall has covered any other traces he could glean, but he does see a trail of (deactivated) trail lights, leading to a hole in the side of the enormous snow mound, supported by aluminium poles, particle board, and tarp, as a semi-permanent passage.     Those inheriting Trudy's ghost-senses are promptly given something nearly worse than the Rita Ma experience. There's almost no use to it, because everything out to the horizon is 'a place of death', as searingly bright and uselessly intense as pointing an IR camera at a bonfire. It takes a sharp eye and a strong gut to suddenly notice that one can't see the people on the streets anymore.
Lilian Rook	While Tamamo's vision does score the image of a folded DS on a shelf, near a photograph of Nika and an older woman, blonde and grey and smiling, Arthur's attempted pass only indicates that it's been left powered off. A sentimental item rather than a practically used one, perhaps.     The balaur leaves with a strange sense of gratefulness, though it doesn't travel too far, and not towards the city. Bond's assessment of the city must be taken in whole with Arthur and Ishirou: Arthur can verify that the power plant is running on nuclear fusion; something decades old in this world, and capable of running for a long time barely maintained. Ishirou can verify that it provides power exclusively to the city walls and defense system, and not the city itself, and that all of the defensive systems are operating on a closed circuit with all broadcast and reception ability stripped out of them. Bond, seeing the tiny mountaintop camp, the power plant at the bottom of the mountainside, then leading to the wall and the city-chunk in the snowfield, suddenly gets an unspeakably bad feeling about the way it's set up.     He recognizes, from above, routes that a snow craft could easily take up and down between the plant and the camp. The handful of helipads on the top and outside of the wall. The diminutive garrison compartments, compared to the Urban Centers he's seen in four different countries. The deliberate destruction of the exit roads, and lack of corresponding gate staff he knows exist even in the middle of a desert. The radio equipment up high, rather than down low, with a clear, constant oversight of the city. The lack of any way he can imagine the supplies to build anything even getting up here.     Every detail stinks of a clandestine op to him. Something meant to be watched by a small surveillance team and one big red button away from being swarmed with gun-hands who officially don't exist. It's not Mi6, but he recognizes the telltale signs of intelligence agents having stationed themselves in a way to have multiple exit plans, a tiny footprint, and no contact with the outside world. And if the G.D.F were officially here too, then certainly he'd have read anything about this in Winter Hazel's outline.
Rita Ma	"I-I'm taller than you, anyways."      Rita's lips purse. "Well, only by a little. And I'm still growing, anyway." Isn't she, like, twenty-one? That cannot possibly be normal.      She looks happy at the chance to take Petra's hand- or is she just happy to help her friend, in general?- and holds onto it afterwards, until Petra sees fit to pull it away. When Cantio snickers, Rita just puts on an innocently baffled look.      "I thought that she and Rook were, like, unique, somehow."      "They're unique people, but..." Rita's face scrunches again as she trudges through the snow. The cold is getting to her a little, but she keeps a stiff upper lip. "They 'tap into' something connected to the Antegent, Ms. Petra. Through a big rivet called their 'tree'. Something that was already there, and waiting for them. Does that make sense?"      "But have you two... fight? one before?"      "Something acting through one, sort of," Rita says with a frown. "It wasn't good. But that shouldn't happen again. On their own, I think they're just objects."      "Do we have a clear idea on what that power is, even?"      "She asks the world to be a certain way, and it is. Is it complicated?" Rita thinks for a second. Then she adds: "I think she can't make things do completely new stuff. She can ask gravity to flatten something, because gravity does that. But she can't ask it to fix things."      When she doesn't have her mind on things, Rita squeezes Petra's hand absentmindedly, blinking and bracing herself against what's ahead. It's almost the way one would brace oneself against the cold. Only, it's not the cold she's reacting to.
Ishirou	Ishirou catches the path to and from the snow shelter and the makeshift entrance.  Ishirou himself comes in for a landing to hover off the ground.  Between his own scans, and what Tamamo has stated he believes he has a plausible location.  Well...that would be near where he is now.  However, she did mention a ham radio. So Ishirou tries to scan for a radio signal and then works to try and synchronize to its frequency.  Once he can get this far, assuming he can get this far, he'll send a signal to it.   "Hello, I am Ishirou!  We're here to bring you home to your sister...there is a lot that's happened and uh...it's going to take time to explain, but your sister and the people under her protection are in danger and we're going to try and move them...but she wouldn't go without you."
James Bond	The choice of his landing is conspicuous--on one of the pads *outside* the city. "Don't under any circumstances go inside those walls," Bond cautions.      "The power plant being outside, the exit roads being as they are. The unknown IFF. All the helipads are outside of the city, the radio towers are above it and not in it. I'll stand by what I said earlier--that it's not a real Urban Center," he says in a low, grave tone, "And I'll add that someone is probably watching it on a screen with their finger over a button even as we speak." He points to the gate.      "No guards," he says. "Roads leading out have been tampered with. Hardly any space for garrisons. I don't know who it is, or what, but they're here to watch something and respond very quickly." Having stressed the importance, he then adds, "Anyone who's going, fan out and look for that place Tamamo described. I'll stay here and keep the engines warm in case we have to leave in a hurry."
Tamamo	Tamamo accepts the bead from Trudy with a, "Thank you, Ms. Grimm. Every bit of preparation is helpful, no?" and places it somewhere inside her fluffy coat.     The atmosphere of this place is terrible, in fact. Just awful. More sensitive senses only highlight that fact. Tamamo gives an aggrieved huff and closes her eyes to it, drawing her chin down and squeezing her arms, as if to burrow into her coat.     By bits, and with small pauses between each statement, she relays what she can see. "I have certainly found the man we seek. That appears to be... oh, that is the device upon which the sister communicated, but in this case, it is left closed. How, then, shall we speak with him? I suspect he may be startled--oh, there, a radio. I am not familiar with the type, though it appears a more rugged sort. I see him within some place with a low ceiling, a small and covered window, and a false fireplace. There are maps of the city here, I think. As well, I may mention, it appears that he is of the Immunes. It would seem so. That which he wears is of a familiar style to Lilian's."     'Radio? Let me see...'     Tamamo focuses on the image of the radio, there at the edge of what she can see within the scene. If she can see what it's tuned to, she relays that information to Ishirou, and to the others, too. That should make things quick.     Though if there are any others listening to the same frequency, she doesn't know, and hasn't thought to mention the possibility.
Cantio	There's something refreshing for Cantio about witnessing the little interactions between Rita and Petra. The pull, the push, the teasing. despite some clear differences, it reminds her of simpler times, and it lets her relax a little. Sadly, Cantio can't relax for too long, and she keeps her guard up even as she marches along behind them, gloves hands still stuffed in her pockets with her fingers wrapped around the handle of a sword that hasn't formed yet. "Their power is connected to the Antegent, too? No wonder NAZCA would want to get a hold of any one of them... They'd be able to learn how to control the Antegent, however indirectly, if they studied them long enough." Cantio concludes with a troubled noise escaping her. "That does make it even more important to keep them safe, then..." More and more things to be worried about, and yet still so little Cantio can do to alleviate her concerns just yet. "We've fought... Around them? Kind of. But if Lilian's and Nika's power comes from them, then also yes. Kind of? Honestly, it'd be too vague to really explain something I don't fully getmyself." She admits to Petra with a light chuckle, then perks up briefly. "Oh. When we're done here, maybe you could ask Lilian to give you a private sparring lesson to show you what it's like." She knows exactly what she's asking, of course. When Rita describes Oreshnika's power, meanwhile, Cantio stares at her in mild disbelief. "She just.. Does it? That does sound-" Familiar? Like a close friend? "-like it'd be perfect for what NAZCA wants, even if it has to follow existing logic. Far too dangerous to be left in their hands, for sure, but capable of doing great things in the right ones. Or even gaining more..." There's a longer pause as Cantio considers so many possibilities that such a power creates, stares ahead dully for a few more moments, then lets out a disgusted noise. "... Darn it. I'm doing it again. Sorry."
Trudy Grimm	Exiting the VTOL, Trudy pauses, blinking several times. After a moment, she closes her eyes and rubs at them with the heel of her hand, then cracks one open to glance down at the enchanted beads still in her hand, "Oh, this was a mistake."     The beads are, however, not discarded. She just tucks them into her sleeve and proceeds, responding to Tamamo, "Preparation is only helpful if what you've prepared is useful. Good grief, this entire place is blinding with how dead-adjacent it is."     The Grimoire is collected from where it dangles, the buckle unfastened. The tome flips open through pages scrawled in runic script. From this she pulls forth Algiz the Guardian Rune, then twists its forked shape into the tilted cross of Gebo.     The resulting amalgamation is shoved downward, becoming a circle of runes around her feet which expands, encompassing both herself and the bunrei; and all those who remain near the witch. It brings with it an air of safety, working against the oppressive, deathly atmosphere.     That done, she glances towards James as he lists his observations, "You've said as well that it's dangerous inside the city walls. Could this be an observation post of some sort? To watch-- whatever it is?" She swings her gaze across the mountain towards the camp Ishirou mentioned before, "Is that what our Nika's brother is up to, perhaps?"
Petra Soroka	Petra holds on to Rita's hand like a lifeline for as long as she needs the support--purposefully making her balance less steady as an excuse?--and cheerfully basks in the conversation as the group hikes. Two things in succession make her stop, though, and drop Rita's hand to trudge along on her own. "Alien ideas. Wishes." She mutters, in response to both Lilian and Nika's powers. "Wanting something badly enough for it to be real, and it taking a shape that you know. It's limited by the lens that you make yourself, and hers seems like it's gravity. Or... blocky mass movement, considering the village."     Now in a bit more of an unpleasant mood, she just shakes her head at Cantio. "I'm not sparring with Rook. Of course I'm not. She doesn't like me, anyways, she wouldn't agree to something like that."     Petra is known for having the opposite of a sharp eye and strong gut. She shrieks and throws the bead away, and it thuds into the snow some indeterminate distance away. "...Sorry. Trudy. But I guess it wouldn't be much help anyways, huh?"     Brainstorming with the group because she's otherwise just dead weight, Petra taps a finger on her scarf where her lips should be. "He's an Immune? We didn't see anyone like that in the village, did we? No soldiers, or fortifications, or anything like the, um, Urban Center. How did the village actually come to exist, with Nika's brother being separated from it like this? And... is this a fake Urban Center, or one transplanted here from somewhere, like all the other bits of the environment? Ishirou said it was copying old radio broadcasts."
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Wait, so where *is* the dude?     Got to have come into and out of that nuclear plant, right? Arthur has to disable Ghostovisioon to preserve his sensory profile, but after all this scanning and testing, he doesn't have a solid idea of where to go to find this guy!     Plant and the camp? Well, he's not gonna sit around the nuclear power plant all day. Gotta be the camp! He's gonna make for it, and if he can't streetpass the guy to alert him to friendliness, he's gonna have to trust his trustworthy swagger and his friendly knocking. "HEY, BIG-BRO, it's YA BOY with the NIKA-PALS. She wants you IN ON SOME PLANS, for real! Says I can't do my SCHEMES without ya. Help a dude out!"
Lilian Rook	The way down to the power plant, picked out by Bond's keen eye, is surprisingly uncomplicated. It's a hell of a hike back up, but a trail has been subtly cleared to make that easy, and he can spot two points along the way that seem to be likely hidden drops for overnighting equipment in case a blizzard were to roll through or an emergency were to happen at a bad hour. The only reason for there to not be a cable car is for the peak to remain 'uninhabited'.     The stealth features hold up shockingly well, as he lands the VTOL a short ways away. He gets the feeling, deep in his gut from his time period of experience, that the defenses are much older than the aircraft is; rugged and serviceable, but a decade behind on electronics and codes. Which is more odd, and not less.     As Rita approaches, Petra in arm, the scent on the frigid wind intensifies. The air is so heavy that it sticks to her skin. There's nothing in front of her but tall buildings and lit streets, but it feels like she's shoulder deep in cold guts. It feels like bones should be snapping underfoot.     Arriving at the frosted over doors, they, of course, find them sealed tight. Despite the size of the plant, there is only one single loading bay, one single landing pad, and a handful of tiny staff entrances. Cameras recessed into weatherproof enclosures scan the grounds outside, studded with warning signs, electrified wire, and old-model tripod guns, wired into the grid underground and with their own bulky battery packs. It's all in Russian, but Bond can read the usual warnings about tresspassers being shot and government property. It claims to be a training exercise city. Which, admittedly, is a real thing; powerful countries do build these. But it's big and there's no one home.     No signs of recent activity. Even the smells, to Rita, are old. Someone had come by a week ago at most, scent preserved by the sterile cold. There aren't even animal tracks. Once the perimeter is broken, the motion sensors avoided, the code locks defeated, and the security computer bypassed, the employee entrance into the nuclear plant takes them right into a funnel corridor, narrow security checkpoint, and what is obviously an airlock.     Rows of clean suits line one wall, an ultraviolet scanner set into the other. Chemical nozzles are set into a mobile frame, and a supervisory computer bleeps and fizzles with what look like ambient brainwave patterns. The cyrillic markings on the wall read 'CONTAINMENT OBSERVATION' when translated. A workplace sign over the entrance warmly, but firmly, with pointer finger extended and eyes wide, reminds Bond 'THAT WAS NOT A HALLUCINATION'.
Lilian Rook	Tamamo's divination gets Ishirou the frequency easily, simply by being able to see the equipment. Once Ishirou has it, he is able to locate the endpoint by the time it takes to register on the other end; at the top of the mountain, predictably. The way up is easier, especially with several Elites possessed of the power of flight. What matters most is the thin and scruffy man on the other end rushing for the radio receiver in Tamamo's vision, even as Lilian brings her there. A countersignal comes back, encrypted, but so lightly that Ishirouy can decrypt it for the group in real time; ostensibly on purpose.     The audio stream is dimly cacophanous. Filled with background noise, muffled just enough to sound like it comes from outside a window. Wailing. Screaming. Unintelligible voices. Rapid, desperate pounding. Like static on the waves. The male voice talks over it as if it isn't there. "Say again? I don't recognize your signal. What's this about-- Nika? No, you don't understand. You can't be here. I can give you the correct coordinates, but you have to leave, now. This is Mat' Prizrakov observation site Chernobog. You're not safe here."     There are no defenses besides magical wards at the top. Through the tunnel, crudely supported in the side of the snow pound, one can see dim lantern lights and rough rope and resin slat ladder steps, descending into darkness.
Ishirou	Ishirou gets the signal, and the background static causes him some concern.  He ignores it because he's somewhat familiar with how these monsters work, and if the one buried here is really that powerful...well /not/ indulging his curiosity is the right move.  Even if he /really/ wants to /very/ badly. He changes his momentum and starts heading for the source.  Just in time to hear the response from the radio man.  "Hold on, I am going to try and recalibrate my signal.  Please stand by.." he says, and with the information, he now tries to boost the signal to be more clear.   "We're not here to go to her, we're here to take you back to her.  We have to evacuate her and the townspeople...am I coming through?"
Tamamo	Tamamo doesn't have the power of flight, but Lilian and Ishirou both do, and Arthur has his portals. If any can get her to the radio receiver that Ishirou identifies, then she'll go there, huddled up with her arms hugged tightly against the cold.     In the meantime, she requests her words to be relayed to the observation site. Preferably directly. There may be a small advantage in being the only person in hundreds of miles to be speaking Japanese, given that she's the least likely to be involved with any of the other parties operating in the area.     "I will readily believe that we are unsafe, even without an understanding of this post, for our time before the attack is short. Evacuation being our best means of ensuring the survival of all parties, we have come at the request of the young Oreshnika, to retrieve her brother. 'It's important,' was her passing curious choice of words. If there is aught that should prevent our leaving together, please make these obstacles clear. Though we have raced ahead of both parties seeking that hidden sanctuary, they gain upon us, even now. Were we to spirit her away without her brother, I am reluctant to imagine what excuses might be made."
Rita Ma	"No," Rita says, her little brow furrowed in thought and mild concern. "There weren't any Immunes in the village. Or at least, I didn't see them, Ms. Petra." When the wind picks up, her face scrunches further- all those things again, plus that awful smell carried on the stinging breeze.      After glancing at the others, she tries to set her face in a mask. Can't have anyone asking her what's wrong.      Opening the sealed door is easy, if Bond doesn't have it. She wedges her fingers into the gap and pries it open in a way that, even granting strength, she shouldn't have enough leverage or grip to do.      Her face falls a moment later, once they step inside. She's not so obvious as to sniff at the air, but she draws in a little half-breath over her tongue, tasting it. "There's nobody in here, Mr. Bond. No people. There haven't been for days. But we might still find things?"      "I don't think the city inside is a real place," she adds to Petra as they trudge still deeper. She's fidgety-uncomfortable, now, if still solemn in the shadow of the oppressive-feeling architecture. The hallucination poster makes her laugh nervously and change her wording. "Or maybe it's real, but... a monster made it. Or it is a monster. Or part of a monster. Don't you get that feeling too?"      Rita suits up just to be safe. It's too big on her, but she handles a too-big suit like an expert, tucking the extra length of the sleeves behind her elbows so her fingers still fit the hands. She still looks like a wrinkly-poofy little marshmallow blob.      "We're going in, aren't we? There's not much else to do here." She looks to Bond expectantly. If he doesn't object, she starts the airlock cycling.      Being under any kind of scanner makes her hold her breath, but Lilian's world's tech hasn't alerted on her yet. The scanners in America were harmless; it was only the teeth check that almost got her. That memory makes her scrunch in on herself a little more, as she waits for the doors.
Cantio	'I'm not sparring with Rook. Of course I'm not. She doesn't like me, anyways, she wouldn't agree to something like that.' "You never know. She might do it once if she really wants to get you to stop." Cantio suggests with a half-laugh half-grimace, pursing her lips moments later while she continues trudging through all that snow. "Although I've never really had a proper duel with her, either. I wonder..." She starts, trails off, then shakes her head. "... No, she's probably the better duelist. Completely different focus." With Bond revealing the way to the plant, meanwhile, Cantio takes a moment to catch up with him and offers what looks like a wearable donut hoop thing (in purple, of course). "Might come in handy if you need to get off the ground at some point. I wouldn't put it past them to have dug up some pits or set up deep-reaching bombs just to separate us. It could also help on the way back, too, if it's still in one piece by then." Cantio's suspicions are only raised further the closer they get to the power plant, squinting at the cameras all over the place and the old guns. She aids where she can with bypassing the security between being able to open things from the inside by going through walls and opening doors from the inside, or just performing basic hacking tasks, and then it's time to start digging around for signs of Nika's brother. "Containment... You think that means him, or someone else entirely?" As Cantio speaks, she gets into one of those suits alongside Rita. She might fit it a little better, but that does mean she doesn't get to look quite as cute doing it. "There's that computer over there. If we can get to that, I can see if there's anything useful for us hiding somewhere in there." A beat. "Maybe. Let's just hope security from however long ago is still just as bad as it is now."
James Bond	The features of the walled city slowly sweep past the canopy as Bond brings the craft in for a landing. He can't shake the observation that everything he's avoiding, electronically, is out of date. But why? The path that's been cleared has obviously been cleared to deliver supplies, and a place like this can't have much of a--     "Paper trail." It comes to him when he cockpit opens and he climbs out. His fists are clenched to the point of white knuckles, beneath the gloves. "You're right, Rita. It's a goddamn lie," he hoarsely whispers, the fabric of the gloves grinding audibly. "A very dangerous one."     Mat' Prizrakov isn't dead. This is where it's being monitored. The more new equipment gets sent here, the more of a question is raised by the wrong eyes seeing it.     He wipes the frost from the first warning sign he sees. "Training Exercise City." He scoffs. That lets them get away with only sending supplies, for whoever's supposed to be watching. With outdated technology meant to deter trespassers more than cutting-edge stealth fighters. It looks better on an expense report.     Rita is someone he trusts to infiltrate places like this with little guidance, so he offers none, instead making his own routes as dictated by his augmented physicality, and trusting her to avoid electronic sightlines and sensors in her way.     A keycard duplicator hidden inside a flask of liquor allows him to bypass locked doors, while his watch, leveled at keypads, quickly deduces the proper combinations.     What's left is the sight of the airlock. "Containment observation," he translates for Rita and Petra. "'That was not a hallucination,'" he says, pointing at the sign with the enlarged eyes. "...is what it says." After nodding at Rita, then putting on a suit himself, holds up a hand, the universal sign for 'wait a moment.'      "This entire place," he says, in a hushed whisper, stepping closer to Rita and Petra to be heard, and twirling a suited index, "Is here to monitor an Antegent which officially, is dead. Officially." His mouth is set in a grim frown, behind the protective screen. "It is, in fact, very much still alive. I've been briefed, but the information that exists has been heavily scrubbed, both by the Russian military and the Phantom Circle."      "Any war museum will tell you that it 'raised the dead.' What it *actually* did... was something far more intrusive. It's an Architect/Intruder classification, a kind of semi-psychohazard. Anything unusual that you see, beyond that door, is suspect. Double, triple, quadruple check it. I'm talking about things like soldiers finding villages that don't exist and then going missing-in-action. Fire teams acting for days on orders no one gave, with virtually no ability to trace them to a time or person. The Paladins analysts who briefed me on this Antegent," he says, grimly, "Found the same man was noted killed-in-action twelve different times, in twelve different theaters. I've been trained for having my head messed with, and you'd better believe even I'll be checking." He heaves a sharp sigh, then nods as the doors open.      "Let's go."
Lilian Rook	Boosting the signal makes the noise louder. It sounds like someone is pounding on the window three feet from Ishirou, screaming at him at the top of his lungs. The voice keeps talking to him as if she can't hear it.     "You're coming through loud and clear." he says. "The towns-- so, you've been there." A contemplative silence follows. "No, no, it wouldn't know about that. It has no way. And there's never been anyone named Ishirou on file. Ah, and I don't recognize that voice. A woman's?" The line cuts out, then screeches loudly, before restabilishing itself.     "Survival? Slow down. What are you talking about? Is she in danger? Did something happen? I can't leave here. Not for another two weeks. The work-- It's not portable." A vexed sigh is nearly swallowed by the muffled chaos. "Of course she'd say that. I'm sorry, whoever you are, but Nika-- she doesn't know where I go when I leave. I don't tell her. I can't. This place doesn't exist. And you can't be here. I can't abandon this post. If I leave, it'll-- I don't know what will happen, but I have to stay here. I'm the only one I can trust to keep her safe."     With the group cresting the edge, Arthur's intent to bang on the door is preempted by the squeal of the crank turn from the other side, and the rush of warm air escaping. The man, stripped down to his sweater layer, stands tall and lanky in the opening, as if to block the frigid wind himself. He stares in dim confusion at the approaching party, but cups his hands to yell "Get inside! Quickly!"     It's very quiet on top of the mountain.
Petra Soroka	Petra looks a little affronted at Cantio's suggestion. "I don't want *that*. As much of an asshole as she is, I'm not going to piss her off badly enough that we physically fight."     After some time on the hike down the path, Petra slips. Not enough to fall, but in her efforts to maintain balance, her interlocked arm is jostled around, and her hand brushes against Rita's. Petra flinches and pulls her hand back, disengaging from Rita's supportive arm.     "I-it's a little hard to walk like that. On the slope. S-since, you know, using your arms is a natural part of walking, to balance out the, the rotational momentum of each-- yeah." It's normal to say this, it's normal for girls.     Once the group arrives at the power plant, Petra looks around with a mixture of apprehension and interest. She's not worried about anything in particular, though the whole setup is deeply ominous, but the ambient authority and professionalism of Military is enough to put her off-balance.     Petra is, of course, deeply useless to the infiltration. Without her mech, she's a completely average girl holding a gun. She crosses her arms and hangs back as the others hack, disable, and or rip apart the defenses, looking on awkwardly.     Responding to Rita as they walk through the passageways with building anxiety, Petra looks doubtful. "Monsters don't really make things, though? Unless it's a lair, or something. It's definitely scary and unsafe though."     Once at the airlock, Petra's eyes light up with curiosity. "What do they all this sterilization stuff for? Are the Antegent usually, contagious? Diseased? Or is this something unusual?" Rita putting on the suit adds to the sparkle in Petra's eye, and she covers her mouth with her fingers when she gasps. "It's so *big* on you! You look like a *marshmallow*! Oh my *god*!"     After gushing for a minute, Petra follows suit and puts on a suit. Bond's explanation makes her frown with worry, as she ties her hair up to fit inside the suit neatly. "Oh. A hallucination thing. Is it just visual? Will we know by touching things to know if they're real? Should we, stay in contact with each other? Like, physically?"
Trudy Grimm	"I don't think her choice of words were all that strange, myself," Trudy admits with her eyes closed. Arms lifting in a shrug, exaggerated by the over-fluffy coat she wears, "You're supposed to love your family, after all."     As she trudges through the snow on Tamamo and Bond's heels, her shadow extends behind her. From the inky depths, uniform-clad soldiers emerge. They wear the ragged, battle-damaged combat kit of the Russian soldiers she recruited near the urban center, so very many miles away. Tastefully, as with most of the witch's Cute Friends, their faces are hidden behind masks, dim green pinpoints of light glowing behind cracked lenses, small growths of emerald protruding from tears in their clothing.     Arthur gets the door open up ahead; through some virtue of another person opening it before he touches it. Bidden to enter, Trudy does so. Her minions, however, do not. Rather, the two soldiers take posts on either side of the door, standing guard with their rifles, staring out across the snow-covered slopes.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Get inside! Quickly!     Not before that Gate. "Two seconds." He says, popping a portal for Tamamo and any others who need to get here ASAP. The Gate should appear near them, that floating spirographic green circle, offering a quick passage. Warding can't be strong enough to reach here, can it? He'll manage, one hopes. Then, it's inside. "YEAH BOY YEAH, GIMMIE THAT SKIN." He instantly starts harassing the man's hand with a complex coolkid handshake the minute he's past the threshold, bothering every diget with daps, pounds, bumps, bro-fists, slides, slaps, flips, grips, and other maneuvers of a handshake in rapid succession.     "Name's ARTHUR LOWELL. Ya girl ORESHNIKA says we gotta come find you. There's some REAL BAD FUCKHEADS on their way to her and I got a plan to pull that BIOMES DIORAMA OFF THE MOUNTAIN so she can keep her IMPORTANT STUFF while she gets out of the way of all the MILITARY OPS BULLSHIT. Don't think she's gonna OLLIES OUTIE without her BRO, BRO. You good to COME ALONG?" He explains as they get indoors quick.
Lilian Rook	The clean suits feel odd. The inside crinkles like it's lined with foil. The masks feel more like EVA helmets, if light and plasticky. It's all so heavy. Too heavy for what it really should be. Not wearing one is sort of a bad idea though. The chemical spray awaiting in the airlock is definitely neither safe for eyes nor lungs, given that it's like battery acid to get on the skin, and the fan alone is unpleasant. As before, though, Rita is a definitively 'not Antegent', and these scanners in particular were manufactured years and years before there even was another possibility.     The airlock buzzer blares gratingly all green, and the group is let out into a small lobby. Tile floors (vinyl would stain, presumably) clash with steel mesh staircases that lead to the second floor. Small offices and a sad-looking lounge with plastic plants are walled entirely in glass. Russian signage directs to 'REACTOR CORE', 'ADMIN', 'GARRISON', 'MAINTENANCE', 'OBSERVATION DECK', 'GARAGE', 'DATA CENTER', and 'EXPERIMENT', down cramped, branching halls with white walls. A single circular bench in the middle is formed around a raised section of floor, host to four identical memorial plaques, running ceiling to floor, scrolling names across a digitally projected surface.     The floor is coated in week old blood, streaked as if dragged. There is a dead body, right before the airlock. A tall man with pale hair and in need of a shave. A heavy jacket, black sweater, and hiking staff with him, next to a heavy backpack and loaded toolbelt. A closed locket is clutched in one fist. The other, a set of tags, reading Tsyrenov, Arman - Immunes: Third Division, Immaculate Cipher/Sword White
Tamamo	"It may have been nothing," Tamamo says to Trudy, "though it did occur to me, some little while afterward, that it would have been more usual for one to say, 'he is important to me,' rather than to suggest some... impersonal importance of some kind."     When Arthur's portal opens up and she's presented with an open door, Tamamo is not at all reluctant to head straight in. Surely, it will be warmer inside? Maybe? Being up on a Siberian mountaintop just isn't Tamamo's favorite place. When can they go back to traipsing through tropical jungles? Sure, they were humid, but so's the beach, and she likes Summer beaches.     "Pardon my intrusion. Yes, to your questions, something has occurred, and it is a matter of danger, which will strike in a matter of hours. Oh, but do pardon me, again. I am Tamamo-no-mae. I learned of young Oreshnika's existence while speaking with another seer, thanks to a certain connection that exists between the two of them -- but this story may be saved for another time."     Tamamo brushes her coat off by the door before letting her hood down. "As Mr. Lowell says, we will counter the impending assault by removing both her and the village in its entirety, transporting them to a hidden location. Though not what should be called a feat of ease, avoiding pitched battle with the approaching agents gives us the greater chance of avoiding any sacrifice of life. Does this change your own situation, perhaps? If not, our next order of business is to deal with what I presume to be a secretly sealed Antegent of inconveniently great power."
Ishirou	Ishirou grabs at his head.  It hurts and making the signal more clear has made it worse.  Shaking his head, he cuts communications for his own safety.  He starts rushing towards the top of the mountain faster. The RESCUE unit bursts for the door, but thankfully doesn't have to clear the whole distance thanks to Arthur.  It comes to a halt once inside and then splits from him.  This leaves only Armored Ishirou there, without a large amount of flight equipment.  Despite not needing cold equipment, he's thankful for it being warm inside this space.   "Hi, I'm Ishirou.  Didn't know the full extent of that... interference until it was too late, sorry about that," he apologizes.  "...What my excitable friend is saying is that there are two groups of people trying to capture your sister.  The government is moving here with its forces, but another group named NAZCA...and affiliated with the Americans are trying to capture her too." "They'll do anything...including hurting the people she's protecting and she won't leave without them...or you.  So she asked us to get you so we can get all of you to safety."
Petra Soroka	<J-IC-Scene> James Bond says, "The issue is that it isn't just visual, according to what little information exists." <J-IC-Scene> James Bond says, "There's frequent mention of 'communications breakdowns.'" <J-IC-Scene> Petra Soroka says, "O-oh. That's way scarier." <J-IC-Scene> Petra Soroka says, "But that can still be solved by physical contact, right? Squeezing someone's arm when we're talking, just touching when we're not."     It's a good plan, and Petra immediately grabs onto Cantio and Rita's arms. She shivers as the group passes through the airlock, squeezing her eyes shut until they've crossed the threshold. Reopening them, her gaze is directed up at first, looking across the signs that she can't read and trying to get a hint of the second floor. Eventually, her eyes fall to what's directly in front of her, and she shrieks.     Shutting her eyes again and taking breaths until she calms down, Petra eventually suggests, "That--that guy. We should check if he's an, if he's real, right? This part is an office, if someone's actually dead here, then, then something's gone wrong."
James Bond	>Might come in handy if you need to get off the ground at some point.     Bond takes the proferred gadget with a nod. <J-IC-Scene> Petra Soroka says, "O-oh. That's way scarier." <J-IC-Scene> Petra Soroka says, "But that can still be solved by physical contact, right? Squeezing someone's arm when we're talking, just touching when we're not." <J-IC-Scene> Petra Soroka says, "As long as we don't need to split up, but...." <J-IC-Scene> James Bond says, "That might be a way to mitigate it. We should keep an eye out for any more signage, too. I can at least translate it, but anything past that door won't be one hundred percent reliable."     Again, Bond translates, after the decontamination procedures. "That leads to the reactor. There, to 'Administration.' That's 'Garrison,' 'Maintenance,' 'Observation Deck,' 'Garage,' 'Data Center,' and 'Experiment.'" He's taken Rita's other hand, forming a chain with Cantio and Petra.      His eyes drift downwards, to the body near the entrance. "So," he says to Petra, "You see him too. Alright. Rita, Cantio, you as well?"      After they give their perspectives, Bond kneels down, his free hand gently pushing open the dead man's fingers to reach the locket and open it. "Rita. I stepped out for a cigarette, and to warm up the engines, when we were talking with Nika."      "Did she give a name for her brother?"
Rita Ma	Earlier, on the hike: "Really?" Rita looks innocently confused. "I'd have thought it'd be easier with me supporting you, Ms. Petra. Not harder." But she catches the flinch. It gnaws at her.      Now: "Monsters build things sometimes," Rita says. "Just for themselves, and not for others." It's hard to tell how forced her nonchalance is: she stays busy, holding the wrinkles of the sleeves with her armpits and bending over to tuck the excess length of the legs into the tops of her shoes. "It's not being dumb that makes something a monster, you know."      She fails to elaborate on what does.      "Hey! I'm not a marshmallow! Look, Ms. Cantio is even poofier than me! I'm taller than her now! I'm still growing!" Rita pleads, trying to sound indignant but clearly a little embarrassed too. "... Thanks, though? Do you think it looks cute, Ms. Petra?"      The fact that no alarm bells go off in the airlock makes her relax a little. Petra taking her arm again makes her relax a little more, despite Bond's grave warnings. "The 'mother of ghosts'. I think I get it, Mr. Bond. They always meant a different kind of ghost, right? If we need to check closely, does that mean details are going to be wrong?"      Her relaxation is broken the moment the doors open.      It's nostalgic, she notes in a moment of clammy shock, that she can see blood for what it is: disgusting. Its scent can't reach her inside the suit, can't tempt her into drooling. All that's left is the horrible mess.      Rita trembles as she steps forward. Her eyes fall to the paper, but she doesn't dare open the locket as she crouches down. She already knows what's inside. Instead, she wedges her forefinger and thumb into the corpse's mouth and opens that. Count the teeth.      "I'm sorry," she murmurs under her breath. Is she apologizing to the body, or the monster?
Cantio	EARLIER Petra claims she'll never piss Lilian off that badly. Cantio gives her one of those deadpan and completely blank stares that clearly shows she doesn't believe her, but she also doesn't say anything after that. NOW Bond suggests grabbing onto everyone, and Petra obliges by grabbing Cantio's arm. Cantio blinks slowly at first, then can't help but laugh pleasantly while firming up her hold to make sure Petra has something solid to grab onto. Relatively solid, anyway, since she's not exactly the beefiest person around. Or the tallest, even, since Rita points out that she's taller than her. "Wh... What? How? You're supposed to be the cute one, not the...!" Actually flustered for a moment, Cantio shifts over to Rita to check their heights before slumping in defeat. An entire inch off, even. And if she's still growing, how long until Rita's the one towering over her? After pouting for a while, Cantio recovers eventually and settles back into formation while going through the airlock. "We'll be fine, Petra. Rita. Bond. As long as we don't get separated, we'll be able to control how much this... Everything weird here can affect us." She says while lying through her teeth, both to everyone and especially to herself while eyeing all those signs Bond translates for them and repeating each one after he says it. Hopefully, that'll help her remember where they are for later. She sucks in air through her teeth when the group encounters the dead body (and Petra shrieks right next to her), taking a moment to mentally prepare herself before breathing in to make sure she can smell the blood and (sort of) confirm that she's not just seeing things. "I.. Think we all see him, yeah. Ah, stay close." She warns while approaching the body, nudging Petra forward so Rita's not left without arm grabbing on both sides while she and Bond check out the corpse. With only one hand free, Cantio brings out her phone to provide some light for their investigation, peering at the tags in the other hand. It takes some maneuvering, but after letting her phone just float, she pries that hand open to check out those tags. "Immunes... Immaculate Cipher? Sword White? Oh, this was... This wasn't just a low level employee, then." She pauses. "I don't think... Nika's brother wasn't working here, though, right?"
Tamamo	<J-IC-Scene> Rita Ma says, "What's his name? The brother." <J-IC-Scene> Rita Ma says, "Is it Arman?" <J-IC-Scene> Petra Soroka says, "I-I don't think she said." <J-IC-Scene> Tamamo says, "She did not, as I recall. It was only by following the sympathetic connections to the items left in her home that we arrived here." <J-IC-Scene> Trudy Grimm says, "Ugh, I completely forgot to even ask. I got caught up in everything." <J-IC-Scene> Cantio says, "I don't think he... Nika's brother wasn't working here, right?" <J-IC-Scene> Tamamo says, "What is it that you mean?" <J-IC-Scene> Cantio says, "As a formal employee. Tags, identification, that sort of thing?" <J-IC-Scene> Tamamo says, "We have yet to ask after this topic, but I do see several tags on the desk." <J-IC-Scene> Tamamo says, "As this is a place that 'does not exist,' the question of formality is a tricky one." <J-IC-Scene> James Bond says, "Check them, please. It's very important." <J-IC-Scene> Tamamo says, "It is rather rude to go through someone's possessions while having just entered their abode, but as you say, we are operating in haste. Just a moment, then."     After listening to the radio with one ear, Tamamo glances toward where she'd seen the string of dog tags on the desk. She'd go, herself, to check, but in the likely event that eyes are currently focused on her, it's more comfortable to subvocalize over the tactical band, "Ms. Grimm, would you mind turning those over?" instead.
Lilian Rook	On top of the mountain, getting indoors is definitely an enormous improvement. The surprisingly hefty door slams shut behind, and is sealed tight with flip-levers and a turn crank into its insulative rubber siding. The warmth of a fireplace that has been running for some time, bolstering the mediocre heat of a dying radiator, greets the skin. The lights are a toasty orange hue to fit, running at low energy. Thankfully, nobody but the man is tall enough to have to duck in the corridors. He leads them past a small closet, a few cupboards, a corkboard covered in posters and timetables, and a cracked door into a small and messy kitchen, to the room Tamamo had already seen.     Arthur assaults his hand. He stares down at him, dazed and a little overwhelmed, at the gamer ritual. "Arthur . . . ? It is good to meet you?" he says, as if unsure of himself. "I'm . . . well, just call me Arman. That's fine." He laughs without any energy behind it. "You can obviously tell I'm not supposed to be telling you anything. But even the higher ups don't know about Nika; I'm an only child. And I'm--"     "Officially dead. As of forty-eight years ago." Lilian interjects. Her smart device is in her hand, the screen glowing faintly against the underside of her face. The two share a tense glare. "How do you--" "Obviously I have database access. I have to know who my coworkers are." "Really now." "Didn't I get the date right?" "How should I know. I'm dead. I don't have contact with the Immunes anymore. Whatever Gerart decided isn't my concern."     Arman patrols around to his desk again, and re-takes his seat. The chair creaks surprisingly little, as if he weighed less than he seemed. His eyes skim over the drawings and diagrams on the wall, and then fall on the picture of a younge snow-blonde girl and an older woman. "Please, take a seat." he says, and now his voice is as close to blandly professional as it can be. "Explain the situation to me." A beat later, he seems to remember something. "The coffee in the kitchen is still hot, I think."     His posture tenses up at the word 'hours'. "Tamamo-no-- I assume that's a pseudonym. That's fine. Why is there an assault? From whom? I understand the urgency, but you can't just . . . I'm sorry, but this isn't something I can just up and abandon. I'm the only one here right now."     Ishirou explains that, of course. Arman looks at him blankly at the mention of NAZCA, but something dimly stirs behind his eyes at the word 'Americans'. His knuckles whiten as he grips his own hands, but his sigh is disappointed. "Of course. That's the only reason she'd ask for me. If she thought she was going away and she'd never see me again." he says. "She doesn't want me when I'm there, but she can't completely get rid of me. She's a bit of a baby like that." he admits. "The government is . . ." Arman pauses. "I can deal with them. Like I have before. I have to. That was part of the . . ."     He looks to Tamamo again. "Mat' Prizrakov is dead. It has been dead for a long time. The brave members of the Russian G.D.F, with help from the Immunes, killed it, at great sacrifice. There is no threat here." he states, in dull, slow, meaningfully weighty tones. "There is a full staff of ninety elite operatives stationed in six months shifts around the clock on-site as a safety precaution, while a cutting edge science program studies the remains for information about humanity's foe. All information on personnel here, at the Antegent's grave site, is strictly confidential, as a matter of provincial security." That part, he says in the exact same hue of knowing lie.     "I can leave that thing alone, that rotting carcass, for a while. What I can't leave is . . . the real reason I'm here. Why I had myself posted." His eyes wander back to the main hall. His voice cracks, choked up with concern.
Lilian Rook	"The Tree in the snow. Isn't it?" "How do you--" "She'll come and find it, if she can. If anyone else knows about it, they'll extract it, and she'll find it." "No, I'm not answering that until you tell me." "Because me too, 'Arman'. She calls--" "She calls it her 'pen pal'."     Arman finally relentes. He sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. The way he speaks is bitter, filled with frustration, and a hint of disgust. "It talks to her, somehow. She thinks it's a person. I told her it was. It was more convenient that way. Her guardian angel. She's never seen it, but she knows about it. That's why I have to hide it. I can come and I can help you protect her, but I can't leave it behind. Leaving it behind wouldn't be protecting her." Air hisses through his teeth. "The old bastards can figure out the Antegent. If they realize what's happened, then they can curse themselves. But I can't leave them this."
Lilian Rook	Bond feels the corpse's hand through his suit, clenched tight with rigor mortis. The locket is old and silver. A photo of a young snow-blonde girl and an older woman is inside. The glass is cracked, and one of the hinges is shorn. Given the smeared blood, it was probably on his chest when he was thrown against something hard. Maybe an explosion. Or struck in the front. The tags are heavy in Cantio's hands. Like a piece of tungsten, probably.     More durable than flimsy aluminium. The photos show the trail of a man dragging himself to the exit, expiring along the way, in gruesome detail. The congealed blood squishes and makes sticky tearing sounds underfoot, where its dried surface is broken by boot treads and exposes the semi-liquid layer beneath.     Rita turn's the dead man's head. Sharp features and slightly overgrown hair. A few days off a shade. The resemblance to Nika is obvious. The resemblance to the man inside is perfect, save the death pallor in his skin and the foggy film over his eyes. Wedging her fingers into the corpse's mouth, cold saliva dribbles lifelessly down Rita's suited fingers, speckling the floor. The pearly whites within--     Look like a photo AI fucked them up. Even the edges --the breaks between the teeth-- seem blurry. Like a lacking dataset. Something that isn't usually shown.     Just now, all four Elites, even Petra, notice that the lights were off. They could see, clearly, but the lights were never on. It's pitch black in here. Noticing the blackness suddenly reminds them that they can't see, and so they can't. There is no corpse. Congealed blood squishes and makes sticky tearing sounds underfoot. A heavy, lage calibre bullet rests in Cantio's hand. Tungsten jacketed, more durable than flimsy copper. It's soaked in old blood, bits of bone stuck to it like grit. The locket is rose gold. The faded photo inside is of a young man, a brunette woman, and two little boys, crowded around a Christmas tree.     A red emergency power light comes on blinks softly in the distance. Laughter echoes down the halls. Two pairs of shoes chasing after each other, each step sharply bouncing off of every wall. Discarded brass rolls away, jingling, where Petra moves her foot. Smears of mold suggest dozens of bodies, once slumped against the walls, were moved somewhere else. They smell ozone inside their suits. Rita looks to her hand and sees where the outer layer of her clean suit has been scorched and peeled, dripping with a strangely beautiful, rainbow-coloured film. You have a headache.
Trudy Grimm	"Oh I can verify something is quite dead here," Trudy states in response to Arman's comment, "The entire landscape stinks of death. As far as I can see, it's absolutely permeated." She doesn't even give a name.     At a certain bunrei's request, she circles the workspace at a steady pace, "I've got more than a passing familiarity with the dead, mister Arman. You're a good deal more talkative than my cute friends. You saw them, right? The men in the uniforms; I left them outside."     Coming to a stop by the desk, she turns and leans against it, placing her hands on the desktop, "You're a good deal more alive than I'd expect a man who's been dead for almost fifty years. Even Ai-Moko was only dead a few days when I met him and he already looked the part."     She glances down when her fingers touch a chain, collecting it and lifting the tags up to take a look, "You don't even look like you're past fifty. So is it a pseudonym you took off a dead soldier, maybe? Self-protection, perhaps? I wouldn't blame you..." Leaning aside to peer at Arman around the tags now hanging in front of her face, her eyes narrow in an upturned way, her lips curling back into a wide shark-toothed grin, "...Or...?"
Ishirou	Ishirou follows, willing to sit down and talk to Nika's brother and help fill him in on what's going on.  He mentions to branch...and then turns towards Lilian.  She...well this definitely is something that tracks.  He can't leave or else it'll put her in danger...he doesn't care about the dead body of the dead monster, even though it's...pretty dangerous.  Well, probably dangerous in the way toxic waste is. However, hearing what the other group discovers causes him to think.  Okay, very...calmly go over every detail.  Very slowly, Ishirou starts scanning Arman.  Very carefully and thoroughly.  Are they talking to the real thing, or is the corpse over there the trick?  If it's not Arman, then who is it?   What...is it?   He will then turn his scans to the rest of the bunker, including the 'offered' coffee.  Just in case.
Lilian Rook	Tsyrenov, Arman - Immunes: Third Division, Immaculate Cipher/Sword White read the tags, heavy in Trudy's hands. Like a piece of tungsten, probably. More durable than flimsy aluminium.     "That's not my real name, if that's what you're getting at." the man says, more smooth than defensive, but a little of both, to her. "Our mother told us never to reveal them, if we went to the city. I wanted to fight. And I did. And then Nika was born. And we found . . . I was reassigned." He states, firmly.     Ishirou's scanning encounters resistance. It's only by familiarity with Lilian that he recognizes it as an Immunes grade combat skin. Unarmoured, seeing as it's under his clothes. Outdated, seeing as he can penetrate it a little. All the organs are in the right place. He has quite a lot of magic. Immaculate health, save for the fact he hasn't been eating enough lately, and signs of old, healed damage to a thigh bone and several ribs. The information is fuzzy, however. He can't get a grip on his brainwaves, psyche, or his nervous system. It'd fit the story, with being Immune; Lilian always was, though this feels different. More like Satsuki and Arina.     The coffee is fine though. Decent, too.     "Mat' Prizrakov has been dead for a long time." he says to Trudy, in that impenetrably officious tone, only to let it carefully, intentionally slip, a moment later. "It is fitting, then, that the Mother of Ghosts would raise itself to haunt us. That thing is a complete breakdown of the very concept of understanding, so of course we cannot even understand if it is dead. It is enough that its power is weak, and it cannot spread."
Cantio	"Good quality on these..." Cantio comments idly as she raises and lowers the tags in her hand slowly, turning them around a few times to get a good look at them. "That name matches up, too... But why would the tags be here instead of upstairs?" She questions with a slow shake of her head, furrowing her brow after a few moments. "This must be one of those mental distortions." She concludes shortly afterwards, then checks out the corpse from a (sort of) distance while Rita handles the face and Bond handles the body. She doesn't even notice that things are off until she glances at the lights by sheer chance. Did something flash just now? She did have her phone on, so maybe that's why. "We should watch our step. You don't want to step on-" Where's the corpse? Getting up slowly and steadily, she starts glancing around cautiously as she notices the disgusting noises coming from beneath her. Making sure the tags are still in her hand-wait. The tags aren't in her hand. Cantio feels the shape in her hand again, then looks down. "A bullet...? Wait, wasn't I just holding a tag?" She fumbles it briefly in reflex as she feels the blood and gritty bone there suddenly, then reaches forward to snatch it back out of the air so she doesn't just drop it entirely. It feels gross in her suit, and she's hearing things. Taking a deep breath and regretting it immediately afterwards, Cantio tightens her hold on Petra's arm while stepping closer to her and trying to nudge her towards Rita and Rita towards Bond. "St.. Stay close, everyone. Either we're seeing another distortion, or we're seeing reality after passing through one earlier." She pauses, grimacing at the oncoming headache and clutching that bloody bullet a bit more tightly. She looks towards the sound of the laughter in thehalls and the footsteps in thedistance. "... Or both. I was holding a tag before, we were checking out a corpse, and now both of those things are gone. I'm holding a... A bullet now, not sure what kind. Tungsten, more durable than aluminium." How does she even know that? Cantio's not sure considering all the other thoughts competing for focus, but she's absolutely certain that it has to be tungsten. "This place wasn't nearly as active before, either." Bond provides the evacuation plan, and Cantio obliges. With her free hand to focus herself a bit, she starts creating little bursts of light magic around the group, acting as a makeshift light beacon to help guide them. "Back through the lobby, through the airlock, security, and the... Another hallway. We can do this." Her other arm is still holding onto Petra's, of course, both to try and keep her calm while also making sure Cantio herself isn't losing her place as she lights the way back the way they came in from. At least, she's pretty sure she's lighting things up the way they came in from. She just has to trust that saying all those steps out loud is enough to keep herself and everyone else on track.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: She thinks it's a person     "It's not a person, it's not-personhood. It's not a human, it's not-humanity. Uh, wait." He tries to rub his face a bit. "Shit, ignore me." He shakes his head. "Those fuckin' RIVETS, dude. Ugh. Alright, look, those things, I'm PRETTY SURE I could MOVE ONE when I do my SCHEMES, but that adds a whole-ass fuckload of MOVING PARTS and I don't know if I can MANAGE. You gotta HIDE IT FROM HER?" He squints, tilting his head. "You think she's about to TAKE THE DEAL, homie? She's about to SHAKE HANDS with the SHAKEUP?" He thinks back to her, sitting in her dark cave of isolation, struggling with connection. "I mean, shit, dude, fair." >Arthur: Alright, what do we do here? How do we stop this? >Arthur: HE SITS BETWEEN THE COGS OF THE COSMOS AND DEMANDS YOU NOT THROW THE LEVER     Arthur mutters, "Oh fuck off." As he bonks the side of his head with the heel of his head. Then he properly speaks to Arman. "Alright, it's gonna be a hell of a thing, but I can try to work in a double-header and bring this whole-ass tree along for the ride when I'm doing my schemes. But we were on thin ice already. If we're gonna do this, I need ten thousand kinds of cover and a totally clean environment, no Antegent, no NAZCA, no fuckin' hesitation. But we gotta figure some shit out. Because that girl has a date with *destiny* and you've been having her ghost it for years, and as far as I can tell, that's just making it hella tempting worse every day. The rubber band's gonna snap back hard as fuck, collecting the debt's gonna go sour bad. Are you getting me?" He gestures heavily with both hands.     "I can see shit like this coming miles off, my dude. This is crisis inside, crisis outside, and tenuous peace. The last one is the first one to break and your way of getting through it gotta be some *mad* fuckin' bravery. You gotta accept she's gonna go for that Tree soon, and I been buddy-pal with her all this last day or so but I sure ain't gonna be the one to root her here. You gotta give her a reason to hold on, you get my deal?" He rubs his eyes some more, trying to hold off some awful thoughts.     "Though, that's just my dumb punk ass gettin' all overstepping. Either way, we get the deal. Gotta bring the Rivet too, can't let NAZCA get that shit. I'll fuckin'... figure it out I guess." He rambles.
Petra Soroka	Petra looks queasy as she steps forwards to let the others get closer to the body. She stares at the man's face with trance-like horror, scanning all the features reminiscent of Nika. Either he's dead and we're fucked. Or that thing is already in our heads, and we're--     Disorientation hits Petra too hard for her to even scream, as the token white girl in a horror movie. Her head spins with vertigo, and she instinctually tries to pull her arms in to herself, while simultaneously tightening her grip on each of the other girls' arms. <J-IC-Scene> James Bond says, "Roll call. Now. Soroka?"     Her vice grip on Rita's arm is clenched hard enough to bruise--probably out of fear more than as an intentional signal--and she nervously confirms her presence, softening only a tiny bit when everyone else does too. Petra grits her teeth with disgust as she lifts up a boot, nausea surging at the tearing sensation. "That part's the same. The--the texture." Unbearable. Sickening. "That's something it can't change, maybe." Dazedly, Petra remembers something and murmurs, "Nika called it 'she'. And said she could talk to--to her." <J-IC-Scene> James Bond says, "No drones. Let's keep the information stream as simplified as possible. Go with the light magic. We'll keep holding hands. The first thing we should do is try the most direct route out--back the way we came. If we can't get back through the decontamination chamber, then we'll find the next fastest way."     Getting out. That's a good plan. Petra squeezes Cantio's arm, then looks over at her with building alarm. "Y-yeah. This might all be fake too. Th-that laughter is fucked." Petra giggles, high-pitched and staccato. "It's some fucking horror shit. Whether it's real or not."     Petra's eyes track down to Rita, now that the corpse is gone. She sucks in a breath. "Rita! Your arm! Is it, are you okay? How did it, are the illusions dangerous? Should we maybe grab a stick or something so we don't touch stuff directly? Or..." Petra sounds dizzy, "Is that damage on your suit fake too?"
Trudy Grimm	Trudy's smile somehow Intensifies as the young man makes things a little more clear. So she'd guessed correctly then. A pseudonym. It's much like the fairy folk, then-- keeping one's true name carefully concealed lest it be used against them. Unfamiliar as she is with Antegent, she's noticed a handful of things she recognizes from the occultic knowledge she's been hoarding.     There's a reason she didn't offer hers at all.     "Well, then," the witch closes her eyes. The dogtags and rattled around a bit in her hand before she sets them down again roughly where she'd found them, "That does make a good bit of sense to me, yes."     Pushing off the desk, Trudy tucks her arms behind her back, stepping up beside Arthur as he explains the situation in greater detail. She glances towards him with a thoughtful little frown, "Do you think it might be possible with aid through Uruz? This sounds like an even taller order than before."
Tamamo	Tamamo takes a seat. She even takes coffee, smiling in return when she says, "Thank you." She doesn't outwardly betray the same concern, talking to Arman, as she reveals while quietly speaking to James.     "I understand. This is to say, I understand some matters, and do not yet understand others. Is there some way that the 'tree' would be used by either of the forces that will soon arrive? It did not seem to me, upon observing that similar Tree in London, that it would be fit to be either harmed or exploited, in any manner, by human hands. Is there some reason you believe it would be dangerous to leave to them? Surely, you know..." Why is her mouth dry?     "...that it would be an unwise plan to allow young Oreshnika to come into contact with the Tree, though it will continue to call to her. I need not mention such a thing, I am certain. It is only that I am not clear on the importance of remaining here, for its sake."     Forty-eight years. "Is there quite an age gap, between the two of you? That must be quite difficult. To remember to care for one's family is easier than to understand them, I know."     Having the heated interior and the coffee to warm her up really helps, though for anyone standing close to her who might still be experiencing a chill, it was as if Tamamo was a radiator, to begin with. "We have this option, then, of attempting to move the Tree. I am against this, and cannot guess how it might be accomplished, except by some terribly grand effort that may wake something we would best avoid. Second, we may leave you to this place, at risk of being captured by NAZCA, who will use you against young Oreshnika. We must then also take the risk that she will cry or despair at your absence, after we left to retrieve you. I dislike this option for several reason. Third, you might come with us, accepting the risks of what will be left behind and of what will follow."     Tamamo peers, just a little, with narrowed eyes over her coffee, shining with the lower golds of sunset. She looks to find what threads might connect Arman to this place, and to the Mother of Ghosts below, and how strong those might be. A creation of the Antegent, she's sure, would have an undisguisable connection, but others are possible. One fated to slay a serpent cannot help but form a connection to their foe. In this case... she doubts that to be his nature, but doubts are to be set aside while reading the past and future.     "'A bit of a baby,' is she? I would not deny that she is yet immature, and all the more so from the perspective of one who has experienced greater years of hardship. And yet, she possesses her own strengths. 'Compassion' knows no age, shall we say? I remain in wondering as to how much of hers connects to that strong sense of duty."     She pauses for a short stretch, finishing her divining, before saying, "I would not presume to know her better, for having spent only the one day speaking, resting, eating together, and listening to her speak of her games and thoughts, than you would know, in your time together. It is my opinion, as an outsider looking in, and as one who would like to see her gain friends who will visit within her mountain fortress, based on the intuition of my experience, that..."     Another pause, words hanging in the air. "She would be hurt and lessened, for the loss of her family, no matter whether you remained healthy in some other land. Such loss forms wounds that never perfectly heal. She said that it was important for you to come, and that you could not be left behind. I believe she said the truth."     Her tone lightening, "Ah, as to the reason for my interests being of such a personal nature, do not mind it. That is part of the longer story that I mentioned."
James Bond	Old. Silver. Maybe old enough to corroborate Tamamo's account. That could be him and Nika. Until--      The locket is rose gold, stained with blood and speckled with bits of bone. Whoever is in the photo, Nika isn't. Bond drops the locket. It's of no use anymore. He tries to ignore the sickening little 'splip' it makes, when it lands in the congealed blood below.      God damn it. God damn it. It knows we're here. Stay calm, stay put, and think for a moment. <J-IC-Scene> James Bond says, "Roll call. Now. Soroka?" <J-IC-Scene> Petra Soroka, squeezing Rita's arm with a vice grip, squeaks, "H-here." <J-IC-Scene> James Bond says, "Rita?" <J-IC-Scene> Rita Ma says, trembly, "Here." <J-IC-Scene> James Bond says, "Cantio?" <J-IC-Scene> Cantio says, "Here! Easy now. Stay close, everyone."     There are goggles in the pocket of his uniform. But he can't reach them without pulling his hand through the sleeve, potentially allowing the Antegent a foothold for more hallucinations--potentially tearing the suit. What, then? <J-IC-Scene> Trudy Grimm says, "I gather something happened on your end, oh dear." <J-IC-Scene> James Bond says, "As I suspected, the Antegent is alive and it knows we're here. Cantio, Rita, Soroka--do any of you have low-light vision you can use without compromising your suits?" <J-IC-Scene> Petra Soroka says, "I-I don't." <J-IC-Scene> Cantio says, "Light magic. It should help for everyone here, but it won't be subtle, and it'll be useless if we get split up." <J-IC-Scene> Cantio says, "Or my drones, if we can trust whatever they light up." <J-IC-Scene> James Bond says, "No drones. Let's keep the information stream as simplified as possible. Go with the light magic. We'll keep holding hands. The first thing we should do is try the most direct route out--back the way we came. If we can't get back through the decontamination chamber, then we'll find the next fastest way."     >I was holding a tag before, we were checking out a corpse, and now both of those things are gone.     "The locket changed in my hands, as well. From silver to rose gold, depicting different people. Rita, you checked the teeth. What did you see?" <J-IC-Scene> Rita Ma says nervously-softly, "A lot. Blurry, messy. Like a picture, not a real thing."     Her answer, and Ishirou's testimony, are enough for him to conclude that what they saw probably wasn't the real Arman. Inside the Antegent's sphere of influence, however, it's impossible to be sure, when one relies on things it can easily disrupt. Maybe Ishirou and Grimm were screaming for their lives right now. Maybe that thing in there with them was the last living member of the observation team, before the Antegent drove him mad, too--     Stop. In the immediate moment it doesn't matter, because it's impossible to know. Dont' fixate. Just get everyone out. Then worry about what was real and what wasn't.     Bond follows the light of Cantio's spell, making certain that everyone is still holding hands every few steps. He repeats the keycode verbally, for any doors that have them, so that only the people with free hands need enter them.
Ishirou	Ishirou considers what he's learned.  Everything sits right, it's not unnaturally regular or irregular.  It's not like looking into a photo or an abstractionist painting.  The resistances feel right, much like dealing with other Immunes.  He taps his chin and lets out a huge sigh.   He isn't sure what to say about this situation, honestly.  "Maybe...you haven't tried speaking to her the way she can listen?" he decides to put forward.  "She is hard to understand and doesn't like speaking directly.  But...once we got through to her she opened up.  I think it's less that she's a baby..." "And more that she wants to form a connection to you and is struggling as to how.  You obviously care for her too, because I don't know many people who would come to the ass end of nowhere to watch over a tree in this kinda weather..." "But if neither of you moves, the Americans are going to take her away.  They're not pushovers, we struggled to deal with a small squad, and two squads are on their way.  They have the advantage of using those people against us, and their goal is your sister." "I think we should worry about how to make the move happen, then why you can't leave."
Rita Ma	As she pulls the man's mouth open, Rita's mind races. How many teeth do normal people have again? Thirty-two? Twenty-eight? What if it's wrong but I can't tell? What if--      They're very wrong. Another thing that's almost, but not really, a relief.      "He's not real," she has just enough time to say, before the pitch-black-then-red makes her bolt upright from her crouch, and she holds her rainbow-stained hand away from her body in sudden horror and revulsion. Did it soak through? Why can she smell ozone if it didn't? It would have reached her tentacle-wrappings before her actual hand. She can still amputate those before it spreads further, if it's poisonous.      In the crimson half-light, her tentacles squirm underneath her baggy sleeve. They can cut themselves off, sharp-edged as they are. But-      "Is that damage on your suit fake too?"      They stop. "I don't know," Rita says, her voice plainly quailing now. "There's no way to know. We shouldn't pick up a stick, either. Mr. Bond is right. We need to leave." She stares at her hand for another second or two, then: "Cantio. I'm going to be busy. You need to do the keypads for Mr. Bond, okay?"      As the group heads back, Rita makes a fist with her contaminated hand, then pulls her arm back towards her body, turning the sleeve inside-out. Once her arm is out of it, she ties the inverted sleeve into a knot with another moment's effort to seal it, containing the goop-soaked hand as its own little bubble within her suit.      Then, turning her face away from the rest of the party, she smuggles the tied-off inverted hand up into her suit's helmet and eats it. In her experience, that's the only safe approach. And it just might help them get out.
Lilian Rook	You have a headache. You're disappointed. You're not playing fair. You don't know where you've been. You know it's been so long. You don't have to go anywhere. You don't know where you are. You don't know when it is. You don't know what anyone is saying; not really. Each strobe of light reveals something else. You're down the hall to the reactor core; its steady hum fills your head with colours. You're out in the snow. The wind builds up frost on your clean suit. You trip over a plastic potted plant. The frost shakes loose, still there. You scrabble up from the blood. A man pleads for his life besides you. Arman shoots him. He looks away. You should stay. You should--     The airlock doors hiss behind the group. It's easier to see when they close, the twelve sandwiched layers of different materials and metallic woven designs between the bulkhead slabs. The chemical spray and the fan scrape the frost and the blood and the residual iridescent goo off of you. The brainwave scanner reads all clear. You leave through the door you came.     You're standing on the edge of a crater. One so vast it's like a meteor fell from space. Pitch blackness extends below you. Your lights cast a pale sheen on the glittering dome of snow above you. Your lights don't illuminate more than the first few ladder rungs of the dark descent.     In the void before you, all around you, swallowing everything beyond the little island of glassed rock and hardened snow-ice, you hear a sound you can't describe. Lights wink on in the dark, slowly, one by one, some close enough to touch, some a mile away, floating in dark space. Smouldering ruby embers. Glistening crimson apples. Fiery scarlet stars. Each one hangs from a frame of patterned black shell/metal/wood/skin, as if fruit from branches; slightly illuminated before fading into blackness; branches themselves that fork and curve and recurse, as if fractals in motion. An entire constellation. An entire galaxy, all around you. A galaxy in the boughs of a tree, with a trunk that coils like a sharpened spear and pierces deep into the heart of the mountain.     At the heart of the tree, where it winds apart, its genetic helix split by the fruit it has born, a carmine womb, an ulraviolet light within; a divine child found in the lightning split bamboo. The shape of a girl, pale and vague, fuzzy with recollection, within the much larger shape of something else, curled in repose as she is. Something solid and see-through, living and beautiful. Like a prism filled with light. Like woven stars, caught in perfect gravity; a well shaped like a giant human. Its heart is a clear pool. Your reflections are immersed within. Its heart is reflected out. Nika staggers towards it from the edge, entranced, like a moth to a flame. Blacklight spills from her lips, and runs from her eyes like tears.     Dimly, reflected in the hanging jewels closest, the scene repeats, recursively, within itself. Another tree, in another place. A pale girl and a dark giant, fading into smoke. Lilian turns away from it. Her skin is dusted with gold; a scar beneath the eye, a bruise to the face, fingerprints about her throat, slashes across her wrist, abrasions to her knuckles, glittering like art. Another tree, in another place. A pale girl and a flickering giant, like fire and flux and chaos. A vast chasm separates it from a young woman, on hands and knees. Her shadow runs long and fuchsia, pale and fluttering like cherry blossoms, writhing like agony. Another tree, in another place. It is already empty.     You stumble out into the snow. You aren't sure when you took your suits off. You're okay, you think. You can see your own footprints at the door.     The taste in Rita's mouth is like sweet and slightly soured apple viscera, mingled with coppery fresh blood. A spot on Petra's cheek burns, and slowly fades. The bullet is heavy in Cantio's hands. The locket is absent in Bond's.
Lilian Rook	Arthur speaks, and even Arman, whom he has just met, can feel the absence of gamer nonsense. Its void draws his eyes to him inexorably. Stiffens his spine with electricity. He hangs on each word, even as he tries not to show it.     "I think she would." he finally says. "I think there are some who love her, but that she has no reason to stay. She stays only out of . . . inertia. Out of the fear of 'what if I reach out, pull back the veil, and discover for myself that I never could'. The fear that how she is now is her limit, and the desire to remain in her imagination, in her land of games and make-believe, that things could be better." Arman sighs. "One day, soon I think, she'll either master that fear, or she'll flee from it, and discover how much more she could be, and then she will be gone from us forever."     "She speaks of her 'pen pal' more and more every time I visit. That thing, soon, will be the only person she cares for." He goes silent, for a little too long, and then says in slow, grave tones. "I have been down there. I've seen what's inside of it. When she finds it, she will find that it was herself all along. Even I can feel the curse in that thing's beating heart. I would destroy it, if I could, for offering her what we cannot give."     Arman looks past Tamamo more than he looks at her. "I'm sixty, last month. She's only turning twenty this year. There's a lot that separates us. But there's a lot that separates her from everyone. The only child ever born in those mountains. The only one who has never known the enemy. The men and women around her live in a different world. They do not know how to speak to her."     He responds to Ishirou without looking, as his speaking wanders back and forth between he and Tamamo. "She speaks poorly, overall. Or perhaps it's that she speaks in a way people like us simply can't understand. I wish that I better knew her mind. I know that they have never treated her as well as we should have. Not since our mother passed, and she . . . she couldn't replace her. Everyone expected it of her, and she just couldn't. No, it is not age that separates us. It is . . . the damage is done. She will never be quite like another soul."     He tries to smile. "She has many strengths, too. She was born in the wrong time for them to be appreciated. They are how she has come this far, when another girl might break. I worry for her, but I believe in her, also. She . . ." His half-hearted smile fades. "Does not deserve any more wounds. No. You are right." Arman claps his hands to his thighs, and rises achingly from his chair. He must have been walking, not long ago. "Then I am sorry to Gerart, if he still lives. He was wrong to entrust this to me, because I cannot stay." A moment passes. "But I will thank him. It has been a long time, but he trained me well, back then. I can fight."     It only takes him a minute to decide. "If we're to prepare for a battle, then there is no sense in spending your energy here. These men mustn't know of this place, because Mat' Prizrakov is gone. We will think of hiding it away, somewhere else, if we cannot stop little Nika from seeking it. But you are . . . you are right. It was my responsibility to see that she wouldn't."     "The sacrifice felt easier than trying to fix it. That's an old Russian vice, you know."
Cantio	"All of it, some of it... We'll figure it out later once we're out of here. We'll be fine." Cantio repeats, still trying to reassure Petra with light squeezes of her arm while also confirming her existence there. She glances over at Bond and Rita every now and then, too, flashing them strained, but still confident smiles should they look her way for any moment. It's clear as day that Cantio herself isn't looking all that composed right about now with how much she's sweating in that foul-smelling suit, but... She can't let Bond be the only cool one here. It's just hard to seem all that cool when she's still trembling despite her words, and especially as the shortest person in this squad of four. Noticing Rita's wound when Petra brings it up, she considers healing magic, but stops herself when Rita mentions the keypad and being busy. "Of course. I've got it, don't worry. You just focus on what you need to." Still sounding calmer than she is, Cantio opts not to ask and to instead follow Bond's directions with the keypads. It's a confusing path forward, and there's plenty of false starts when it looks like they're suddenly outside. She knows this all has to be fake. She just doesn't know when to start believing any of it is real. The pleading man gets a short look, but Cantio steels her gaze and turns away. She barely flinches when Arman shoots. She kicks the potted plant out of reflex. She desperately wants to move faster, but she can't. She's responsible for everyone's safety. She can't afford to care about anyone but these four. She doesn't even know if the airlock is real. The spray feels real, the fan feels real, and the door feels real. There's a moment where Cantio allows herself to breathe again, and then she sees something that no longer registers as hallucinations. It reads more like a vision of something. Nika, turning into something else, possibly freaking out over the tree. Or is it the bamboo? The giant human well? Cantio's not sure how to interpret any of it. She sees more unidentifiable figures, and she sees Lilian with those concerning markings that remind her of what she had seen so long ago. An empty tree, then snow. It's not until Cantio finally remembers to not have a deathgrip on what's in her hand that she realizes the bullet is still there, and that she can see the snow beneath her again. Glancing around herself, she looks immediately over at the rest of the group she had left with. If all went well, it should be Petra next to her, Rita next to Petra, then Bond next to Rita. "S... Sound off, everyone. What do you see right now? I see snow and... A-and footsteps. I'm holding a bullet right now. Are we out?"
Rita Ma	"Wait- Ms. Oreshnika!" Rita, in a panic, abandons Petra's arm and lunges for Nika to grab her before she steps off the edge.      Rita lands face-first in the snow.      As she pushes herself up on her hands she gasps from the sudden bright and the sudden cold and the everything, then gags, and then coughs up a chewed-up piece of her suit. It's clean.      "Mr. Bond? Ms. Petra? Ms. Cantio?" She doesn't look back over her shoulder- she doesn't want to doubt- but she has to make sure. "Is... is everyone still okay?" A pause. "Yeah. I see snow, Ms. Cantio." Rita laughs, beleaguered.      After a moment to gather herself, stagger to her feet, and brush the snow off of her knees while sniffling, she finally thinks to mentally order Mat' Prizrakov to 'halt' through their new connection. She doesn't expect anything from it. But she has to make sure, really sure, that they're not still in an illusion.      "Thank you, tree," she says under her breath.
James Bond	It's like a dream. Or a nightmare. The kind where you try to speak, and nothing leaves your mouth. The kind where trying to run feels like coaxing impossibly ancient machinery to life after milennia of rest; 'movement' is a distant memory or a half-understood idea, that seems desperately far away when a man beside him is begging for his life.      In the back of his mind, he understands the images. What they mean. The fourth bloom took the offering. It's over, and his senses startle at the shock of being, once more, in the snow.      "I'm here," he says, to Cantio and Rita, a half-second after he gets back to his feet. "...yes. Snow and footprints."      Bond looks over his suit, finds it to be clean. He breathes a sigh of relief. "Let's get these off and meet with the others. If she doesn't already, Lilian will want to know about the fourth tree."
Tamamo	Tamamo finds something, her attention pausing, where she finds a tying snarl of the threads, many endings kept together, here in a land of death.     '...a full staff of ninety elite operatives...'     '...strictly confidential...'     '...I have to hide it.'     'I'm the only one here right now.'     'She... does not deserve any more wounds. No.'     Tamamo looks away again.     "As you say. Let us gather the other members of our little party, then, and return."
Ishirou	"You're right, though.  She does have many strengths.  Honestly, meeting her has been really nice," Ishirou says, and nods, "And we want to prevent those wounds too." "As for the battle, I can fill you in on what I know.  It's a lot to go over, and a plan to get the people and her out of there is already in the works, in which Arthur is the lynchpin." "That means I should go ahead and start trapping the way to the village from where we know they are coming to try and slow them down.  I'll see you back in town then."
Trudy Grimm	Trudy's eyes close with a nod, that sharklike smile returning to her face, "Oh, Nika's been a delight. I'm not sure she and I have much in common, but I enjoy listening to people talk about things they're excited about." She tried to understand video games, she really did.     Raising her hands, she claps them together once, "Take a moment to collect anything you wish to bring with you and we'll be on our way at once. Our comrade brought an aircraft, you see."     With this all settled, the witch dips back out of the workshop and past the kitchen to the exit. Mostly so she can dismiss her soldiers.