maskormenacelogs | (no subject)

WHO: Everyone!
WHERE: Jeopardy -> Heropa
WHEN: Nov. 19
WHAT: A resolution and a swear-in
WARNINGS: Please label threads

Somewhere, in a place that is and is not Jeopardy, time has passed. To some, it may have felt like mere hours; to others, days. For time doesn't truly touch this place. Only fate exists here, for imPorts to change or allow to proceed as it will.

Somewhere, the sisters look into the hearts of those with the power to decide the fate of this entire world and know their choice. A blinding light grows, forcing even the strongest to close their eyes, and as they do so, a vision of what could have happened appears in their minds. A world wreathed in flames, fire and screams echoing ceaselessly as they depart; a peaceful world, healed and whole and well—and a certainty that another world has paid a heavy price.

And then there's the sensation of three powerful forces leaving, two taking an unwilling third with them to wherever they are going. This world will be left as it is now, and its future will be whatever the people here make of it.

MEANWHILE, IN HEROPA

One week into the mysterious storm that has enveloped much of Jeopardy, citizens across the nation are losing hope. The government continues to monitor the situation at a safe distance, but cannot enter the affected part of the city, though one SEAL team did make an attempt, only to become lost in the wind for hours before emerging without ever making it through. While the storm hasn't grown, neither has it shown any sign of changing.

The heroes who bravely charged into the storm have not officially been given up for lost, but with no news coming from Jeopardy, few believe they will emerge unscathed. To honor their sacrifice (?) and offer sorrowful natives a means of coping, a candlelight vigil kicks off outside Heropa City Hall at 4:30 PM EST.

Speeches are given. Commemorative t-shirts are sold. It is at this point that a large portal of light opens up in front of the building and deposits all imPorts who entered the storm, as well as a confused but unharmed Layla and Sally Clapp. A stunned silence falls over the crowd — followed shortly by an eruption of cheers.

Organized chaos quickly reigns over the occasion. Medical personnel are quickly called in to aid any imPorts who might need it, and government officials quickly descend, one thing on their mind: what the heck happened, heroes?! ImPorts are asked to state, for the record, exactly what they experienced — which leaves a lot of room open for the more creative among them. Just what each imPorts is willing to confess to or lie about is up to them, but there are other imPorts at hand to refute or support all statements.

While imPorts are technically free to go, all are encouraged to enter the building for a debriefing with government officials. Those who care to share their story begin to paint a picture of what happened, and a flurry of transportation begins to move between City Hall and the local porter outpost, as Jeopardy will certainly require some aid now that it is fully accessible. Reports begin to filter back that while there have been some casualties and collateral damage to the city, it is far less of a disaster than the government anticipated during the storm, no doubt due to imPorts' efforts. Additionally, news from other porter cities begins to arrive; with the dissipation of the Jeopardy storm, all dimensional anomalies elsewhere have ceased.

Following the briefings, ImPorts may go home and get some rest, although they may have trouble shaking off the crowds — which are largely ecstatic that the people who apparently saved the world are in front of them.

While imPorts were occupied with the post-disaster debriefings, locals have used the time to launch an impromptu celebration of their defense of this world. Local restaurants, breweries and nanas have hustled their finest wares over, and free food and drink are flowing for the homecoming heroes. A local party & events organizing company has strung up some lights and tents in the park across the street from City Hall, lending a festive atmosphere to the area. T-shirts being sold to honor the assumed-fallen heroes have been 'edited' with permanent marker, going from 'FALLED HEROES' (there was an error in the print run, given the notice of less than a week) to 'RISEN HEROES' and are, regretfully, being given away for free.

For those who stay, an impromptu party breaks out, and the occasion quickly becomes the latest swear-in, albeit with a more casual emphasis on the actual swearing-in than usual; a card table is set up with the usual seals and documents, but it's a bit haphazard.

Along with tasty libations, local musicians start jamming on acoustic guitars in the park's gazebo, setting up some cheerful background music—or maybe you're not too tired to dance? A local physical therapy school has rolled in multiple portable massage tables, with free sessions for sore heroes!

The locals who haven't dispersed yet are also around, likely to seek autographs from the world savers, while podcasters, BlueTubers and regular nosy nellies might lean in with a recording device, asking for the real story of what happened. For imPorts who become too intoxicated or exhausted to porter home, many locals are offering couches to crash on — although the pillows they use may later show up on ePay.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Adam is happy to follow - this world seems to have a thing about offering free treats every so often, and he's more than glad to be there when they do.

The joke serves only to confuse the boy, a couple of years younger than Richie and definitely not from the same kind of environment where he even understands what that means. He doesn't even have a sister...

"What happened in there?" His tone is genuine, calmly serious. He's not exactly matching the celebratory mood around them, but at least he's not invading Richie's space and comfort with a barrage of prying questions and talking over him.

For that, Richie’s willing to answer that question honestly. He hadn’t been with the interviewers, because they’d clucked their tongues at him when he tried to make a joke and pushed their microphones in his faces and kept asking. But with Adam—he can trust this kid, he figures, with this much.

“We nearly got killed, that’s what happened,” Richie says, absently brushing some of the dust off his shirt as best as he can. Mostly he just smears it, though, and he makes an unhappy noise at that. “There were robot things fucking everywhere, and then there was this lady at the church who did—something, I don’t know what, it made the church look like other people’s worlds and pulled shit out of their memory to play right in front of us.”

Sometimes—often—one of the more traumatic memories. Richie shivers at the memory of Paul Bunyan’s statue, at the memory of Bowers screaming at him. Not real, he reminds himself. Not real.

“And then the sisters themselves showed up,” he says, “and they were like,” and he slides into a power-assisted impression of one of the interviewers, his voice turning into a valley-girl’s high-pitched fast-talk, “hiiii, so, we’re totally gonna leave, but first you guys have to make the choice of, like, setting this entire world on fire, setting another world on fire, or like, only fucking up this world a little bit! If you pick the third choice you might get some cool shit out of it! Your choice!” He snorts out a laugh, shakes his head, and returns to his normal voice to say, “Yeah, everyone liked the third option way fucking better.”

Adam listens silently, fairly ignoring all the commotion around them - and somewhat impressed when Richie's voice changes completely -, and it's amazing how much went on inside that storm. He had kept to his home - his caretakers had preferred to stay out of his whole mess and figure it'd be safer to stay inside, as much as that could do. Adam had had mixed feelings about it, but it's not like he knew of a way to stop this particular apocalypse, so he mostly kept to watching the news.

"So you saw them? The real them? The sisters." He had wondered what they looked like, if they looked like anything. All this talk about them, and it was hard to picture what they'd even look like. "

Despite the question he focuses on, the rest doesn't entirely go by him. A choice has been made, a big one by the sounds of it, and not really one those outside the battle had had a word in. Makes sense, in a way, although it also seems a bit unfair, as they all lived there, imPorts and not. But nothing's ever really fair, is it?

"Sort of? I mean, they were definitely the real sisters, but two of them were possessing those twins people were talking about." He jerks a thumb over to where the Clapp twins currently are, and they don't currently look like goddesses at the moment—just two kids more confused than Richie is. "And then there was a third who was like, super fucking hot, but also really scary and shit."

No, she wasn't actually hot, Richie was just very close to actually pissing himself out of fear, but he's going to downplay that part, hah.

"So anyway, I guess they're not gonna bother us again." Thank fucking god for that. "And they're not gonna fuck any other worlds up anymore! It's just this one, and it'll probably just happen every other month or so. Probably. Shit might bleed through from other worlds, far as I know, but then shit bleeds through anyway."

Adam looks over at the twins, watching them for a moment. And that feeling of unfairness just hits so much stronger. He doesn't know what happened, not really, but how confused they look, and everything must've been so much...he knows that feeling. He at least knows how it feels to have everything suddenly dropped on you.

Back to Richie.

"From other worlds? Our worlds?"

“Ours and probably a bunch of others,” says Richie, with a shrug. Multiverse theory is not something that was taught at Derry’s middle school science classes. “But it’s just—same old, same old, right, if you think about it? Because we’re what bled through even before this apocalypse bullshit went down.”

He shrugs.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask what they meant by it,” he says. “But the world hasn’t exploded, so I’ll take it as a win.”

He thinks about it, then seemingly reaches the conclusion that, yeah, it sounds like not much has really changed, despite everything. It all just landed itself back where it all was, which seems to be how these things always go, at least by his experience.

“Yeah...I hope that’s it, though. Didn’t sound like a lot of people know what was going on out here, anyway.” He looks off towards the crowds, spotting imports every so often, including many he recognizes. “But I wonder what’s going to happen next.”