Obtaining directions here was a simple matter, really. In spite of how little time had passed since they first awoke in this exotic realm, the famed master mimic Gogo could intuit the social systems of the Fractured City enough to earn partial access to a map of the world. Zephon, or that was what Fran had called it. It was unlike anything Gogo had ever seen before, and certainly a far cry from their own world — at least, until it was ravaged and destroyed by Kefka's hands; from the looks of it, Zephon appeared fully intact, unbroken, and certainly not oozing with the power of unrestrained magics.

But what exactly inspired Gogo to leave the safety of the Fractured City and brave so perilous a trek alone? Why act on the compulsion to traverse leagues and miles of hostile landscapes and unknown wilds, if not for the reward that came after so dangerous a venture?

Why, purest curiosity, of course! No gold or jewels could ever sate the peculiar nature of one so strange as Gogo, who sought only to replicate everything that crossed their path; and replicate with aplomb, they did, for doing so afforded them a vast wealth of something far greater than any treasure: knowledge. And it's as they say: knowledge is power.

For instance, Gogo knew that where they were headed was known as "The Lost City", and that it was more of a colloquial term for a grand and sprawling series of ancient ruins built into the very mountains themselves, and that very little about their original purpose is known, apart from the fact that the ruins are lined with antique traps and arcane barriers rumored to still function, even long after the original inhabitants had vanished from the face of this world.

They also knew that they would have to hug the outskirts of the Metaia Marshlands, a prominent swamp region, in order to reach the so-called Lost City. Much of the wildlife avoided Gogo as they traveled, courtesy in part to an alchemical mixture that the mimic had learned to concoct by way of observing the Fractured City's locals go about their daily craft; finding the ingredients had been easier, as they grew in abundance near the settlement's outskirts and close to the marshlands themselves.

Which left the question of the Lost City proper: how do you explore ruins armed to the nines with ancient weapons? As it turned out, Gogo could obtain answers to this question by asking passing adventurers who had tried to plumb the ruins for treasure, only to be run out by contraptions that ominously sounded similar to the Magitek machines employed by the Gestahlians. And, fortunately, Gogo had experience dealing with such devices.

Entering the lower levels of the facility, Gogo would reach into their robes and withdraw a golden spiked flail, allowing the weighted ball to drop menacingly. Behold, the Scorpion Tail, a deadly instrument of war lined with a most potent venom. A perfect tool against organic creatures or people, but less so in the face of far more mechanical nightmares. And it was equally fortunate that nothing had jumped out to attack them just yet, as it seemed the complex did not have any sort of life to it.

Ascending the facility was a tougher challenge, for as soon as they entered a large vestibule, lights began to flicker and move their way towards Gogo's form, until several bright pinpoints of red light hovered just slightly over their face. Instinctively, they rush to cover, and just in the nick of time, for these harmless beams of red quickly turned into scorching hot lasers that could have easily vaporized the mime, had they reacted a second slower. Perhaps it was best that they took a different route...

Oh, what luck! There's a staircase! And it leads to an opening, at that! Choosing to ignore the danger of automated laser fire altogether, Gogo marched eagerly into the ingress and up the polished stone escalier until they reached what appeared to be an etching of some caliber, angles and lines forming something akin to a diagram or blueprint of this place. It wasn't difficult to ascertain that specific markers attached to these carvings denoted Gogo's current location, and how to reach a doorway further into the complex.

Erring on the side of caution until they reached said door, Gogo crept through the halls and corridors like a skulking mouse until they came to a cubic room lined with more red laser beams, except these formed a sophisticated grid-like pattern that Gogo could tell was meant to impede movement across the chamber. Rubbing both hands together, Gogo closed their eyes, imagined what Returner Locke Cole might do in this situation, and shook their body limber.

Carefully, cautiously, ever-so-slowly, Gogo took patient steps over, under, around, and through several openings that they could perceive within the laser grid, using both hands to scoop up their clothes and pivoting where necessary to avoid tripping the figurative, and perhaps literal, wires. A single, sweeping cartwheel would clear Gogo of the trap, and allow them to move on as if they hadn't just evaded a contraption meant specifically to deter intruders.

Time passes. Gogo has kept themselves alive through sheer grit and raw ingenuity, both benefits to being so inimitably talented at the arts of duplication. And their persistence would be rewarded with a great and expansive doorway, glistening in the dim light of the facility in its towering majesty.

But how to open it?

Putting the Scorpion Tail away, Gogo simply stood there, staring at the closed portal with fearsome excitement, eager to see it pried open and its contents revealed, all while completely ignorant of the fact that someone else was already on the other side...

---