MISSION: THE SLEEPER

[ximilian]

● ● ● M I S S I O N   3 . 1

INTRO • MAY ALL YOUR BACON BURN • IF YOU HAVE A DREAM DON'T WAIT • FYI

// INTRO. beam us down!  

It’ll be during the early hours in the morning when the communications device pings the Orbers in the midst of whatever you may be doing: whether it’s sleeping in, having a leisurely breakfast, or being deep into whatever task it is you’ve planned for the day. Viveca’s familiar voice filters through, a cheerful interruption.

// VIVECA.AI

Hi everyone. We’ve got your next mission ready, but I was asked to give you the file a little bit in advance so you could prepare better… so here it is. I don’t think I can delay the teleportation machine more than a day, so early tomorrow morning it’ll be time to go. The situation in Kilnan is a little strange, so I’ve prepared an antidote for you just in case. Pick yours up from the infirmary before you get going. It’ll only work once, so be careful. The orb is somewhere in the castle… I trust you’ll find it. Good luck.

Without any further fanfare, the comms go silent and you’re left with a new mission file and some rather concerning information within the report about a sleeping sickness. But instead of the immediate departure like you might be used to, you’ve been given the day to rest up and prepare for the trip down. So pack your things, grab the antidote, maybe enjoy a hot shower and a good night’s sleep … or if you’re not the sleeping kind, find a good song to jam to and get you motivated for what’s to come.

The next morning before most of your alarms will go off, the teleportation machine will hum to life, crackling with stored energy. Those who have been here for longer might notice this difference and what Viveca had meant when she said she didn’t think she “could delay it for more than a day”. As soon as you’ve been gathered together, you’ll feel the pull — and a tug that removes you from the station.

For what might seem like an agonizingly long moment, you simply hang there in stasis, white light surrounding you accompanied by a strange, ethereal chorus that whispers in your ear, informing you of the goal currently set before you and the cost to achieve it, as well as the exchange for its power —

But before you can venture to open your mouth and respond, the light around you materializes into a fog of cool, damp cloud cover. The moment your feet touch solid ground and the fog parts as you move through it, you’ll see a marble road ahead.

Welcome to the country of Kilnan, Orbers.

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// PART I.MAY ALL YOUR BACON BURN  

Around you, the courtyard of the Crystalline Palace opens up — white marble pavement, extravagant sculptures half-covered in moss, and fountains that have long since dried up — its splendor abandoned and left for time to neglect like a long forgotten secret.

If you look behind you, you’ll see nothing but clouds; and underneath you is mostly open sky. Faintly (if you really squint), you might be able to make out the grassy earth somewhere below the clouds but the distance seems a little treacherous to even consider taking your chance to get there. As such, the only way is forward — up the wide steps and through the imposing, but majestic, double doors of the castle.

1.0   Once inside, a seemingly empty castle greets you. There are no servants rushing to greet you, no hustle and bustle that you'd expect from a castle this size... just silence.

You’ll find yourself standing in the middle of a grand foyer. Daylight filters in through tall windows framed with long flowing curtains that seem to sway just a little, even though the casements are clearly shut. Further in, you’ll notice multiple staircases leading you to the upper floors, some of them straight, and some of them curved, while others wind upwards in a seemingly endless direction towards one of the towers. Most of these stairways will appear to be your regular run-of-the-mill means of egress, but the moment you turn away and look back to where you’d just come from, you might notice that the stairs have disappeared … only to be right in front of you when you glance back. Another set of stairs may take you in one direction, but try and retread your path and you’ll find the very same staircase you’d just used will take you somewhere completely different.

These stairs might be playing tricks on you, or maybe you need to get your eyes checked.

From the foyer, hallways appear to sprawl in all directions of the wind, some of them lined with paintings from a very deft hand (or hands). Walk along and peer at one of these incredibly detailed depictions of vibrant rich cities, lush idyllic countrysides, alluring, well-manicured gardens and find that all of them seem so incredibly lifelike — almost uncannily so. If you study one for too long, you’ll find yourself losing focus of the world around you, only seeing the painting that beckons you forward … and helpless to resist, you take a step forward and wind up within the world of the painting. Is it as beautiful as it seemed from its frame? Of course it is. Just look at that colour! Feel that breeze! Take a deep breath of the air around you. But remember that you probably can’t stay here forever; you have to get back. And the way to the castle is … somewhere here. You just have to find it.

2.0   Inside the castle, your task is clear: find the orb.. and for some of you, perhaps try and look for the people sent to the castle before you. To do that, you’ll need to search through the different rooms and accompanying towers… but the moment that you try to, it becomes apparent that this is no ordinary castle and the rooms are not exactly just rooms either. Some have stark differences in scale: in one room you enter, all the furniture within appears to be made for giants; while in another room, everything has been shrunk down to its miniature.

Further still, another room will appear to be deceptively normal… but the moment you step past the threshold, the door will lock shut behind you and then fade into the wall like it’d never been there at all. You only have one clear objective then: search through the room for a way to get out… or make yourself a way out.

3.0   When you enter this next room, you find yourself having to pause to take it all in, it’s so incredible that you can barely believe your eyes: whatever this room holds within seems to cater specifically to your individual interests and desires like it sees into your soul. It might offer rare books to those interested in knowledge, the best entertainment for those who seek self-indulgence, decadent foods you’ve always wanted to try for those with a discerning palate. What a wonderful time! So wonderful, in fact, that it’s too easy for you to forget the passing of time … what was it you were doing before? Nothing important, surely. Right?

4.0   There are rooms that don’t even seem like rooms at all once you’ve entered them: you open a green painted door and instead of the marble floors, you step right into a hedge maze. When you turn to glance over your shoulder, you’ll find that the door has vanished, and your hand lingering on the door knob is now clutching at a cluster of prickly foliage. With nowhere else to go but to brave the labyrinth, you move forward. The path you take will twist and wind until you realize that the best-case scenario here is coming face-to-face with a deadend rather than the other delights that the maze holds in store. One end greets you with a particularly angry tree, hell-bent on wiping you off the face of this plane; at another turn, a creature that looks suspiciously like a Sphinx, sitting on her hind legs and blocking the way, might ask you a riddle in exchange for passage; and there is always a chance that the right-hook you take will pull you through a cloud of deceptively beautiful fluttering dots of lights that whisper to you with the voices of people long-dead before you.

5.0   Another room will pull you — quite literally — into the eye of a storm. Hail and rain pours down, drenching you immediately, while lightning flashes in the open sky — it almost looks like the countryside you saw beneath the castle, but that couldn’t be, right? You don’t remember leaving the castle… And more importantly — the rain really is coming down, and that lightning is striking dangerously close. It might be wise to find some temporary shelter, perhaps a little cottage to hide in, or at the very least, get to that overturned hay cart and hide beneath it — and wait for a chance to find your way back to the exit door … wherever (or whenever) it may appear.

6.0   Not all of the castle will be entirely strange, however; there, too, are regular, non-eventful rooms scattered within. A large dining room with the table set for one, a thin layer of dust collecting over the silverware, for instance; a library filled with old tomes and scrolls that don’t appear to have been touched in years; a storage room full of strange items; and, if you make it into the cellar, you’ll find the kitchen, its food storage still robust despite the fact that some of the meat has begun to gather mold, and some of the vegetables have darkened and gone a little mushy. On the layer of dust settled over the floor, there is exactly one set of footprints, perhaps smaller than you’d think, but even those seem at least a number of weeks old.

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// PART II.IF YOU HAVE A DREAM DON'T WAIT  

It’s almost too easy to become distracted by all of the strange happenings within the castle, easy enough to forget about the sickness you’ve been warned about — and perhaps, with so far there having been no sight of anyone actually affected by it, it’s easy enough to think that there might have been a mistake or a misunderstanding. But the longer you spend within these beautiful white stone walls, you become aware of a whisper: quiet at first, the barely-there breath of a language you know you understand and yet you still can’t quite grasp it, the meaning frustratingly close to the edge of your consciousness. And the more you try to touch those not-words and too-light-whispers, you feel a little dizzy before the world around you suddenly changes.

7.0   At first you think you’ve simply fallen into another room, just another hidden trap-door or painting you’d stepped into. So perhaps you don’t even realize that you’ve fallen under a spell at all when everything around you is just … dark. Beneath your feet, if you focus your gaze, is a still surface of a black lake glinting — and yet you are not sinking. Every step that you take forward creates a little ripple across the glassy surface. As your eyes adjust, so do your surroundings begin to take shape. It will be different for everyone, this dreamscape morphing and melding into a scene (an island, a meadow, a small patch of forest, or will it remain the lake?) or setting that reflects you — it’s where your soul feels most at ease … for now.

8.0   As expected, the dreamscape does not stay still for long. The more time you spend here, the more it seems to draw inspiration from your memories. Suddenly you find everything around you materializing into solid form, the experience being dragged from the depths of your mind into manifesting a vivid study in touch and sight and smell and sound. It’s something you’ve already been through before, but whether you like it or not, this memory is being replayed around you and now you’re the observer … you and the lucky (or unlucky) person who has entered this memory with you.

Do you stay, or do you try to run from it?

9.0   The stronger the memory, the stronger its effect on you: the heaviest memories, whether they’re happy ones or sad ones, may latch onto your subconscious so tightly that it pulls you right into the memory itself.

Just as these dreams often do, it’s hard to tell whether this is made up or reality itself — perhaps you remember that this has happened before and you’ll try to change the course of events. Or perhaps you think you’re living this memory for the first time. Whatever it might be, you find yourself fully convinced of its authenticity … but the power of belief is a dangerous thing. Beware that the injuries sustained in this state will become real, visible to those who might be observing this — and observing you — from the outside. (You know the line: if you die in the game, you die in real life.)

NOTE: These strong memories might also draw you into them as yourself from that time, so someone wandering into this re-lived memory might find you there as a child, a teenager, a young adult, or perhaps someone with the same or a different face — whatever you were at the time of the memory.

10.0   Once you become aware of these memories, you may push them away or will them to stop. The moment that you do, the dreamscape will immediately shift to become its unaltered state once more. The other way to escape these memories is to leave. At the edge of your dreamscape, you will find that the air shifts and shimmers just a little differently than the rest of this space … and once you get close enough, the doorway will open to let you out of your dreamscape and into someone else’s like a chain of several small links. If your dreams are more akin to nightmares, perhaps you enter the door willingly. But just as likely, you might simply get too close and are sucked into the passageway.

And you never know just whose dream you end up in next …

The only way to leave the dreamscape is by being woken up by someone administering the antidote to you, and it will only work once. So if you fall back asleep, remember — if it takes you in again, you will remain under this sleeping spell, unable to wake … at least until the cause of the sickness has been found.

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F Y I

• The events in this log take place during the month of November.

• If you have questions about any of the prompts or the mission in general, please direct them HERE.

• To submit a search request regarding exploring a specific place during any of the prompts, please do so HERE.

• Voting for how the characters will get the orb will go up November 22. Though voting will be done in an OOC post, it is an IC vote in the sense that you should pick a choice your character would ICly make. What the characters choose to do will determine the conclusion of the mission.

• And finally, have a soundtrack for this log! ♪ ♪ ♪

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Comments

Excuse me, I have a wildcard here for a Majima-kun. A horrible, horrible wildcard on its way.

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

[It was dark here. No amount of blinking helped his eyes to adjust and only the sudden backlit, stage-like production of images finally illuminated the scene. Zhao stayed still, silent as he watched. Out of respect--or maybe out of trepidation of interrupting. Like a part of him wanted to see what played out while another part of him feared what he might learn.

Zhao recognized one of the voices. The one that pleaded with those that played out their scenes. And that's when he knew that the real reason he didn't move was more selfish than anything else. Because he really was curious. And he wasn't going to interrupt.

His guilt weighed more and more as the scenes unfolded before him.

The first man he didn't recognize at first but once he heard Majima's familiar voice call out to the long-haired, bulky man he realized who it was. Saejima. The sworn brother of Majima. He'd met them together for the first time before coming to Ximilia. Omi Alliance Headquarters. Kasuga's party versus the two sworn brothers. They'd looked different then, much older and yet no less strong and determined for it. Once Zhao realized who that man was he realized the significance of the scene before him. Had Majima really betrayed his brother like that? No way. They worked too well together in the future. Something was off here.

The second man threw Zhao for a loop he was so similar. Yet the Chinese man finally found focus in the intricate tattoos. Somehow he doubted they were yakuza and instead looked up to find the Chinese features of the big man plain as day. His words made less sense but clearly they meant something. He watched the man burn to a crisp and wondered what had happened that led to his death. What had Majima been part of that got this man killed? Had he watched this happen once already? What an awful memory...

Zhao didn't know what to make of the third man that appeared. Flashy and gaudy and crude--the Liumang boss wasn't certain whether to love or hate the guy based on the first impression he got from this string of half memory, half dream he was watching from the outside. Yet he was oddly reminded of Majima himself. Not the young, subdued yet still outgoing version of him here with the Orbers--but the older version of Majima that Zhao had met with the others at the Omi headquarters. There had been no hesitance to let loose in the older version of the man. Like this fuchsia wearing mad-man who seemed to want to reassure the young Majima.

Then came the little lady and oh did Zhao hold those emotions that Majima held the first time around (but showed no signs of here and now). He wanted to vault onto the scene and rush at whoever it was that shot the girl. That wasn't right. He had no idea what led up to this moment nor did it matter for his emotions wouldn't change. He saw a lady with a bullet in her and it warranted payback for the one responsible. Not to mention Majima's sadness by enduring it. Even if she had survived, like his words implied, no matter what they deserved punishment.

That was the first instance in which Zhao moved while stuck in this nightmare. It wasn't much. He didn't get far. But it was a start.

Perhaps it was enough to garner Majima's attention, a flicker of movement at the corner of his limited vision, briefly seen before disappearing again. Zhao heard those words he spoke and knew what he meant. Somehow it was all connected. That Majima perceived it to be connected. Like dominoes falling one after the other. If he could erase one regret, maybe it would prevent so many others from falling after. The hole in Zhao's chest ached as it became hard to breath. He didn't move again for a long time. He sank back into the darkness without further notice and the darkness swallowed him whole again.

A long period of time passed, or maybe only mere seconds that felt like hours, days, weeks... nothing but the darkness and silence. The stage was quiet. The images ceased to flow. For a moment Zhao even lost perception of Majima within the inky blackness of the dreamscape.

...

...

...

Zhao looked up at the sound of clinking metal. The darkness had filled again only this time with sounds and smells. He heard the soft groaning, of man or building he wasn't sure; he heard the soft metallic chinks of chains shifting subtly. He smelt blood and decay and worse. He didn't know where he was but he knew what kind of place it was.

A torture chamber.

He couldn't say he'd never been in one before, that he had never used the services of someone proficient in such things to get what was needed out of someone. No, he definitely had. He still wasn't a fan of it. It was awful work, brutal, disgusting. Mabuchi had never had any qualms with it. Maybe even enjoyed it. Zhao did not hold the same opinions of such torment and abusive work. It made him sick.

He liked it better when a few punches and kicks did the trick. A few clever threats, a silver tongue loaded with ample ammunition. Those were his preferences. Things that sounded awful but dealt smaller blows when wielded properly.

Well, that was certainly not what this place was about. The smell of decay made that perfectly clear.

Zhao's eyes adjusted slowly this time to the sight before him. The glint of barely perceptible light against metal chains came first. His eyes automatically followed the chains to their ends where a man hung painfully from them. The bare chest at the other end of the arms was familiar a sight by now. Though it was battered and bruised, and much much too thin from what he was used to seeing, it still bore those familiar hikae... the two snakes on opposite sides in dichotomy with one another, both over a floral pattern that flowed out to the rest of the tattoo that Zhao knew to be on the man's back. There was blood seeping out of somewhere and eventually Zhao realized that Majima's eye - that the hole in his skull where his eye should have been - that it was uncovered, that it was newly plucked from its socket. Not that long ago. Enough that it still bled and oozed liquid like a corpse might.

The Chinese man shuddered. He'd seen some sick sights in his day as a gangster but nothing really prepared him for something like this. This man was still alive.

Suddenly Zhao had a new-found respect for the man named Majima Goro. How had he survived this? How had he survived this and still remained sane? Or...had he.

There was a well of emotion that surged up from his chest like a violent wave from the ocean out to swallow everything in its path. It was overwhelming, and Zhao let it wash over him without any fight. Let him drown in it instead of seeing this sad, pathetic sight that hurt physically to look at, to endure. That was the cowards way out. And he'd never been a coward in his whole entire life.

So he pushed against the flowing emotion, grabbed hold of the rage and indignity he felt on behalf of the man before him, and rode it all like a giant tidal wave. Straight into the fray. Whatever kept him from interacting properly before no longer held sway over him. He walked forward and appeared in the dream, the horrible memory, the place of torture and death--he walked right up to Majima and knelt next to him.

The man's skin felt too hot as Zhao placed a hand under Majima's chin, like his body had already succumbed to death and was burning away in decomposition, decaying from the inside out. He gently lifted the man's head and held it aloft, chin high as if in pride, and stared unabashed into the one good eye. There was no judgment here, no pity or shame. Zhao couldn't let those things show. There was only pride and quiet dignity as if he could give Majima his own to replace whatever he had lost to this awful fate. Maybe it wasn't needed but he would give it anyway.]

This doesn't last. It may have happened but it never lasted. I've seen the man you become. It's no broken man. You'll make it out of here. [His words were soft, gentle, but firm.] You're too strong for this. These chains can't hold you. Here-

[It doesn't happen on purpose, per se. Zhao simply knows that what he wants is to free Majima from this hellhole--and in the next moment, he feels the weight of chains on his own wrists. He hears a familiar bark, an order from a voice he cannot forget if he tried. A curse in Chinese before the switch back to Japanese. Get him to talk, damnit! His own laughter fills the chamber, thick and coated with fluid stuck in his throat.

Meanwhile, Majima stood in front of him where he had once been. And with another semi-lucid thought he sends the ex-yakuza further away without movement. It was a dream, right? Let him bear this burden for now. Send Majima further away, slowly being swallowed by the darkness, where he was safe. As the scene floated away from Majima it revealed the changes, the morphs as Zhao's own memories melded with those of Majima's. The chamber remained the same but the men that now appeared to torture their victim where not ones Majima would recognize. Rather, they were men from Zhao's memories.

The large, bulky man dressed in a white suit was familiar a sight to Zhao. The Liumang heir smiled up at this man as his attention focused on the new person filling his vision. His lips were broken and bleeding, his face blackened with bruises, and yet despite the pain it must have caused him that smile stayed in place. Smug and confident. It drove Mabuchi mad every time and Zhao couldn't help but revel in it.]

!!!

[hikae]

[ That felt wrong. The touch that did not bring pain, that was not rough. That eased instead of hurting further. What was going on, was he going to be let out of here? Impossible, no one is 'let out' but— maybe Shimano didn't want him to die just yet. Too early—

But the words, they didn't fit. They were less about understanding the words being spoken, but more about the tone and melody of voice. There was a strange familiarity to it, but it was impossible that anyone he could know is here. Majima feels his consciousness slipping, and briefly, he hoped for a full blackout. A bit of rest.
If this man could do that, he'd be grateful.

—Zhao shouldn't be here.

Now that was a way to become suddenly awake.

—Fuck this dreamscape, nothin' of this is real

It was real though, it was real not a long time ago. And he didn't need a reminder. He didn't need a reminder that even when given the ability to fix something, he can fix so little. Fix the most important one, the one that drove him to survive in that hole, but what about everyone else?

——This doesn't last. It may have happened but it never lasted.

Feels like something that will last for a lifetime. Part of this place will stay with him, forever hidden, and if he gains strength it's all in spite of it. Spite is a powerful motivator. The dream starts to shift, take him away, mold him back into who he is right now, simultaneously taking an unfamiliar shape; changing places and then— it's like hitting the water and then surfacing gasping for air—

That's how he found himself back on the roof, under the warm sun. His hair long, outfit a little dusted from passages in the castle. No blood, no open wounds. Hyperventilating on that safe roof, and almost yelling in frustration. To have someone, anyone, witness what's probably the darkest memory he has and then save him by doing some kind of, dream-scapegoat sacrifice?

They keep doing this, they keep dying, because apparently Majima Goro clearly must be cursed. Oh yes, he was yelling, getting it out of the system. And then he gathered himself and ran, without thinking, without direction, until the roofs stopped looking like roofs, until it was flat, water-like expanse. Until a door shimmered into existence and let him in. Into someone else's dream.

And he was going to repeat that, until he found the right one, until he found Zhao again. ]

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

You're going to tell me.

[The scene was slightly different than the one Majima had seen when he was being pushed away from his own hellscape. It had shifted to fit into Zhao's memories more. The men were the same, all Chinese descended, and there was the large, commanding man in white that stood out the most. He stood dead center with the poise of a large predator. At ease and yet ready to pounce in an instant.

And then there was Zhao, tied up and bruised from an obvious beating, a little blooded around the mouth. The light in his eyes had faded but the smirk stayed defiantly on his lips just out of spite.

The biggest changes were in the surroundings. It was no longer dark, the room didn't smell of blood or sweat or decay, and there were decorations and intricate designs all along the walls. The brightly lit room screamed Chinese composition, with decorations befitting an expensive house or office. It may or may not have been immediately obvious that this was one room of many in a Chinese restaurant. It was the complete opposite from the Hole and yet the scene was clearly one of malice and of torture to come.

Honestly, Zhao was surprised he hadn't ended up in one of the meat lockers or something. He supposed Mabuchi had wanted to keep him closer though as he appeared to have some sort of meeting approaching which he would probably take to the main room on the floor, the largest dining area with a prominent seat of honor on a dais.]

You're going to tell me what I want to know. [Mabuchi was still talking. Making demands and determined that he would get what he wanted out of Zhao.] It's only a matter of time.

[That was sort what Zhao was counting on: time. The longer he held out, the more likely a rescue might occur. He had no idea if one would actually happen, but if not... well, he'd hold out as long as he could. And maybe, just maybe, he'd have the guts to hold out until death. Let Mabuchi curse Zhao's stubbornness to the grave and regret taking over as he tried to figure out all the secrets for himself. What the bastard deserved.]

Get his tongue loose. [Mabuchi ordered his boys.] I'd love to continue holding this conversation with you myself, Zhao, but I have an appointment to keep. We'll talk later. You'll talk later.

[Yeah, keep tellin' yourself that, asshole. Zhao thought really loudly just on the off chance he could convey it through his stubborn glare. Mabuchi just smirked before he turned away and walked out.

That left Zhao with the boys loyal to Mabuchi. All ready to play some more. And by play we really meant beat the crap out of until he was ready to talk the next time Mabuchi made his presence known.

Zhao lifted his lips into a painful grin showing his teeth like a feral animal.]

Time to show me what ya got, boys. Make it count. You know what he'll do if you don't. [He sucked on his teeth and forced out a laugh.] Besides, I'd hate to get bored now.

[hikae]

[ Jumping from dream to dream, navigating this was like another damn maze. What's worse, they played with your perception, with what you feel— but eventually, Majima one way or another found his goal and continued searching until he found— this.

This scene.

Maybe if he understood more of the magical mumbo-jumbo he could figure out how everything here worked. His guess was Zhao didn't know about it either, just got a win on a lucky gamble somehow, dragged Majima out of it, at a price of falling into his own instead.

At a price!! Bastard, putting him into debt like this— Majima just let this frustration, fury, and gratitude (explosive and weird mix right there) guide him right to the middle of the room. The men didn't even notice him, playing out the scene. So was Zhao, locked in, frozen, at the awful moment ]

I'll throw yer words right at ya— this doesn't last. [ Majima fixes himself right in front of the captive man. A prisoner he might be, but his will not broken. Not at all, Zhao's as cocksure as ever, or at least tries to be. The grinning facade plastered right to his face. A complete opposite of Majima's tense, tormented expression ] Yer goin' with me, no time to lose. I'm gettin' ya to safety, just as ya dragged me.

[ But. But where? Not to the darkness and suffering of the Hole. No, no, that's the worst place possible, but if so what is something, anything similar, that Majima could picture from his own memory?

Ah, right. There it is. Not the chains, but the opulence— Camellia's Grove. ]

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

[There was a moment where Zhao's dreaming consciousness tried to make sense of Majima's presence by viewing him as one of the thugs about to beat him for sake of their master. Therefore Zhao's demeanor did not change and he smiled up at the new man with defiance in his eyes and waited for the inevitable.

It didn't come. In fact, his mind finally caught up to the reality that the man directly in front of him was talking to him--and not taunting but actually saying something meaningful, encouraging even. That's when the cocky demeanor slipped, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What was the man saying?

It was as if time skipped as his mind realized this was wrong. As Zhao began to catch up to Majima's words his subconscious diverted the dream. Rather, the dream caught onto Majima's incorrect addition to the memory and tried to do something about it.]

Who the hell are you?

What do you think you're doing?!

The fuck-! You can't be here!

[The thugs from the memory suddenly reacted to Majima's presence at the same time that Zhao became aware that it was different, somehow wrong. This wasn't what happened... (this wasn't who came to his rescue)... This man shouldn't have been here.

Zhao wanted to say something back to the man but he didn't have time to fully register the words to him and think of a reply before the dream shifted once more. The scenery changed, subtly at first, then more obviously as Zhao realized this was no longer his restaurant. The opulence remained--the place, whatever it was, was meant for people with money or power or both to spend pleasurable time here. That much was obvious just at a glance. Everything familiar, however, had shifted into something different, something foreign and unrecognizable to him.

Zhao stared up at Majima with a perplexed look. Oh. He started to realize now what had happened, what was happening. But he had no idea how either of them did what they did, and more to the point he had no idea where Majima had just put them. What was this place and why were they here.

The thugs didn't notice the change or didn't care--either way, they had a set of targets at which to aim their ire. They were ready to lash out.

Zhao had no idea how to get rid of them. Some part of his memory was still at play perhaps... or the dream simply wasn't willing to let completely go yet... Whatever the case, the thugs remained and where ready to attack. As they prepared for this from behind Majima's back, Zhao still stared up at Majima, expression now something akin to wry amusement.]

I don't think they like your redecoration. You wanna do something about that or let me get some payback by freeing me first?

[hikae]

[ He can't be here— because he wasn't here. Just like Zhao could never be near that basement. But if the dream figures were able to reach to what was new around them— a cold shiver ran down his neck when his mind suggested a harsher scenario, of what would happen if Zhao showed up when he had company.

Had to consciously push it away, lest they slip there— the gaudy setting much preferable. And recognition seen in Zhao's reaction— even better.

Majima felt a heavy hand falling on his arm and he looked back at thugs, quietly. Assessing each of them. (Which one of you got it? Which— oh. You), and before they started more of this shittalk he... dropped close to the ground. Sprung himself off it launching a kick that sent one of the men flying. With his landing, Majima immediately made a wide telegraphed strike that his target dodged— giving a better chance to grab the key at his belt. Majima caught at it, the blasted thing gave some resistance but one more pull and——

And Majima flung the key towards Zhao. ]

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

[He didn't have much leeway in his bindings to catch it properly with his hands--but what he did have free was his head. He blocked it from flying past with his face and reacted quickly before it could fall to the ground, catching it in his teeth. From there it was...moderately easy to get to his hands and free them one by one.

All the particulars aside, Zhao was soon free from his shackles and capable of entering the fight.

Which he...didn't for the moment. Instead he rubbed his wrists idly as he watched Majima fight them.]

Watch out. That one grabbed a knife.

[He spoke calmly as one of the traitors brandished a blade at Majima. It was kinda obvious since he stood directly in front of the one-eyed man and gave show of it before actually attacking but Zhao gave the commentary deadpan anyway.

He went into a little stretch as he watched the man lunge at Majima. And another one came from the side in an effort to grapple with the ex-yakuza so the blade wielding idiot could have an easier time of sticking Majima.]

On your left, another one.

[He moved on to stretching out his legs as if he had all the time in the world.]

[hikae]

[ If Majima had more time to comment on the agility in catching the ill-aimed key, he absolutely would. But any witty remark was nearly punched out of his mouth, as he dodged barely— And then again, when Zhao's comment brought his attention to the man with the knife.

Gotta focus on these clowns. Zhao's gonna have his freedom soon— And he surely does. Not to mention, makes a whole performance out of it. Majima was truly astonished because the deadpan commentary continued, now that Zhao was apparently free. ]

Hilarious! [ He kept the matching deadpan tone, and instead of trying to escape the grapple, he used the man as leverage and performed a wide kick hitting both men around him, first one in the face, second in the arm, but not before getting grazed by that knife. Maybe he at least dropped it. The man trying to hold him in place was now essentially being spun around and used as an anchor for wildly kicking legs. When Zhao entered Majima's field of vision, he quipped ] C'mon, tell some more jokes. These guys ain't laughin'

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

[Well, if that was what Majima truly wanted...

Zhao's face crinkled into a gremlin's mischievous smile.]

I'm a little distracted by the pole dancing for anymore quips but if you want I can try to bust out a knock-knock joke or something. No guarantees on the laughter if that's what ya want though.

[However, that did bring up the point that he wasn't getting anywhere near the fighting while Majima was still kicking wildly at their opponents. He'd have to wait till the other dropped down off his impromptu pole before Zhao could join the action proper. Majima had done a fantastic job keeping them off Zhao while he freed himself, and he was thankful. He just couldn't help himself when it came to the jokes.

In the meantime, he dropped into a lose ready stance as he waited for the opportunity to dive into the action. The moment Majima's feet hit the ground Zhao was ready to lash out like a viper and down the nearest goon. It was time for his revenge.]

[hikae]

[ Every skill you pick up can be used as a weapon. Well, maybe not every, but plenty of them. And yes, that does include pole-dancing. By the time Majima finished everyone was either on the floor, or collecting themselves from the impact. However, the one getting up, was so focused on his current opponent, that he completely forgot about the threat that Zhao posed. By the time he realized it, and turned around it was... too late. He fell prey to Zhao's strike ]

Guess we ain't a pair of stand-up comedians— [ Majima did attempt a quip, though dryly. He recognized the area and knew that it was only a matter of time when more enemies arrive. ] We should get out of here

[ Apparently adrenaline, even in the dream, makes you forget pain and discomfort who would have thought? But it stayed in the background, muted. ]

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

[Zhao wasn't sure whether to laugh or groan at Majima's quip. The pun was strong in this one. He settled for a shake of the head with a not-so-hidden smile on his face as he rubbed the back of his hand across his face.

He hesitated then. His eyes roamed over the toppled lackeys as they twitched on the ground, a few of which looked like they might make it back to their feet with a little more time. Zhao owed them for what they did to him. This was just some sort of dream though, wasn't it? What difference did it make?

Well, it felt real enough. And his emotions were real. So a little payback may not have affected the fake men around him (probably a good thing anyway seeing as how half of them were still with the gang) but it made for good therapy.

So before he made his way out of the room the Liumang leader put his foot down. In a face or two. Knocking out the few torturers that were still moving. Then he followed Majima out the door and into the hallway.

He didn't know this place. It had a familiar vibe but the building wasn't one from his memories anymore. He looked to Majima.]

[hikae]

[ They deserved it, and good for Zhao for getting it out on them. It's natural to want to bite back, after being hurt. A luxury Majima knew he couldn't hope for, with his circumstances. But at least he turned his other cheek for a good reason, the best one. And maybe, just maybe, everything can get fixed—

But that wasn't the time for that, nor place. ]

Think ya can do it again? Take us somewhere else. [ He whispered when Zhao caught up to him ] Shit's about to go down over here.

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

[Zhao was curious. So this was straight from one of Majima's memories, too, and one that spelled more trouble. However, they'd definitely had enough trouble for one evening(?) so he nodded solemnly.]

I'll see what I can do. No guarantees.

[Because he seriously wasn't certain he could pull it off again. He wasn't entirely sure how he had done it the first time, truth be told. He had just wanted it so bad it just become true. Now he lacked a little bit of that motivation since the danger was not immediately present and he was, admittedly, stirred up for a fight.

But Majima's deliberate whisper told Zhao how the other felt about this scene. The one-eyed man wanted it to change. So Zhao concentrated. It took him a moment to decide what he wanted, but then-

The scene shifted again. It was back at the Chinese restaurant/house, the place where many of Zhao's memories took place. This time they were in a different room, however, and the atmosphere was completely different. Instead of the angry mob aura there was the gentle, soft tones of a quiet evening spent with family.

Indeed, on the other end of the room sat a strong, gentle woman of Chinese descent speaking softly to a young boy who looked suspiciously like a tiny Zhao. They conversed quietly and comfortably, the little boy clearly enraptured by whatever words his mother spoke to him.

If there was one way to ensure a peaceful scene in this swirl of dreamified-memories, it was by thinking of his beloved mother. Concentrating on her was the simplest way to make everything calm down and gave them both a relaxing breather.]

[hikae]

[ It took Majima a moment to get suspicious about the boy's identity, and when the realization hit he quickly looked for a way to— stop gawking, get them out of view, whatever. It felt like an intrusion, it's what it was, but there was no point in feeling guilty, right.

He sighed and found a first flat surface to sit on, letting a loud exhale along the way. The skin still felt prickly, even if his old injuries should no longer be here. The cuts healed and scarred, the bruises long time gone, yet it was as if someone putting needles into his brain, and they caused everything to set alight again. ]

...wow, ya did it again— [ He whispered, with a hint of reverence, and just tiny bits of despair. He ran his hand down his face ] You— sorry for makin' ya take me here.

[ To this room that felt almost sacred ]

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

[For a moment it almost seemed like Zhao hadn't heard his companion speak. His gaze was on the scene before them, watching the two family members interact, watching his mother be kind and gentle. It made him miss her suddenly.

His eyes peeled away from the old memory and finally snap to Majima who had moved away to create distance between himself and this benevolent scene. He shuffled closer, turning his back on the memory for now.]

Nah, don't worry about it. What are you apologizing for? I mean, I'm the one that conjured it. Hell, it was just easier that way.

[He lapsed into an awkward silence briefly. He broke it, too, though a little bit later.]

...I figured if I thought of something nice it'd be a good place to relax. My mom is the nicest thing I can think of. Always made this place seem more homey.

[The restaurant, that is, the place they'd ended back in. It was a place of business...but whenever his mom had been around it was more comfortable, pleasant even. She just had that calming effect on everyone around her.]