FINAL TDM.

[ximilian]

● ● ● T D M . 10

UP & AT EM • SPACE STAYTION • KNOCK KNOCK • FYI

// PART I. up & at em  

… What are you willing to do to erase your regret from existence?

The words ring in your ears as in the darkness of your dream, a copper glow pulses, slowly enveloping you. It is not a feeling of comfort that surrounds you, though — as a distorted voice whispers in your ear, you feel it: cold dread, and a sudden certainty that everything is about to be irrevocably changed.

It is to this daunting realization that you wake, and as your heart slows into something resembling a normal tempo, you notice something you should have noticed immediately: you are not in your bed.

1.0   White walls, clinical yet clean, sparsely-furnished rooms. You may wake in one of three rooms: a room with only one bed, a room with two beds, or a room with four beds. Those waking up in rooms with more than one bed notice that they are very much not alone. Perhaps the other occupants of the room are still sleeping, dreaming the same dream as you just did, or a regular one after returning to the station just a few days ago … or perhaps you wake to the other person in the room watching you.

What you do is entirely up to you: yell in surprise when you wake to someone staring at you? Or maybe you’ll try to sneak away before anyone notices you...

2.0   Those with life-threatening injuries find themselves awakening in the infirmary, in a regular hospital bed. Most of their injuries have been treated, and any lingering illnesses or conditions will have designated medicine bottles on the table next to the bed.

White curtains surround the bed on both sides, giving an illusion of privacy. But is that a rustling sound you hear? Some footsteps? Perhaps you’re not the only one in need of some medical attention... or you've attracted the attention of those with experience in medical aid, and they rush to your bedside, surprised about this sudden new patient.

It is not just for your injuries that you may want some company, but also for leaving the infirmary — you can’t stay there forever, after all, and will have to make your way through the hallways of the station to the living quarters, and claim a room and a bed there.

Once you’re up, you may notice there’s something in your ear: an earpiece that, when you become aware of it, quickly runs you through the instructions for how to use the network, a recorded message by a female voice that explains exactly why you’re here… and leaves you with a map of the station.

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// PART II. space staytion  

So what else is there to do but to explore? Best get to know what is now your new home.

3.0   When trying to decide where yo go, you may find your way to the armory, where you can try to work the machine there to make yourself a weapon — perhaps to replace one that didn’t come with you to the station… or maybe you want to be prepared for the future. The recently-returned team members will surely recommend having a functional weapon with you.

4.0   After you’ve exhausted yourself training, it’s time to grab a bite. For that, you should head to the kitchen, which is equipped with all the basic appliances you might need, and ingredients for most regular dishes.

5.0   A welcome reprieve to the cold, dark space that surrounds the characters can be found in the sunlight room. A skillful illusion surrounds anyone who steps inside the room: you can hear the trilling of birds, feel a light breeze caress your skin as you walk through a grass field. The illusion has been programmed to reflect the seasons — the leaves in the trees are currently bright with all the colours of autumn: orange and red and yellow; and the air is crisp and clean. If you follow the path, you'll be led to a bridge rising over a sparkling, babbling brook, a few fallen leaves floating on the water and falling around you like very bright raindrops.

With an illusion so authentic it may leave you longing for a nice glass of ice-cold lemonade, it is easy to forget you are in space at all. Perhaps that gives you comfort, or just makes you miss the real nature all the more.

6.0   If you’d rather choose tinkering over nature, the lab is guaranteed to provide you with some entertainment. Glass vials and jars of chemicals sit on shelves in a surprisingly beautiful display of colour on one side of the room, while the other side of the room contains stacks of boxes containing assorted equipment: cords, bolts, panels, buttons, gears, gadgets, gizmos, and thingamabobs. The downside is that the parts available seem to have no apparent method to their sorting. So get digging, and you may just find exactly what you need to make what you’ve always wanted to make!

7.0   As you wander back towards the common areas, you may notice a room off to the side. The room takes up a chunk of the common area, and on its unassuming door is a little plaque that reads, 'The Ximusic room'. Should you enter, you will find a sound-proofed practice room that contains — yes, you guessed it, band equipment that even the most musically inclined should be satisfied with. So pick up an instrument, saunter up to the microphone to belt out your favourite tunes, or take a seat at the side of the room and enjoy others' playing.

8.0   If it’s items you’re lacking, though, some time after your arrival, the earpiece alerts you to a new message.

// VIVECA

Hello, everyone. I hope you've had time to rest, and those new here have got used to being here. Those who’ve been here for longer know the deal, but to the new arrivals: we've got a drop of new supplies. I hope all of you find useful things among them. Anything specifically requested will come with a name tag. We're working on locating the next orb, but in the meantime... I hope those who have just returned get some rest, and those who have just arrived read up on what is expected of you during missions.

As you make your way to the platform, you'll see there is nothing amiss in the neat piles of items on it. There’s clothes, shoes, dishware, skincare, books… even a couple of CDs, and a few cute stuffed animals. So sort through what there is and grab what you want, before someone else does!

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// PART III. knock knock  

Maybe you have taken the warning to be ready seriously, or maybe you’ve heard someone mention the simulation room and want to see what the fuss is all about — whatever the reason for your walking into the room, the first few moments don’t seem too exciting. It isn’t until there’s another person in the room with you that the door suddenly slides shut, and the scenery starts to change.

7.0   Simulation on the Fritz: However, what it changes to is not one of the simulated missions. Instead, the room draws on its occupants. A little flash of memory here, a familiar scene there — the room molds itself after what one (or both) of the people in it know, perhaps a place they’re familiar with: the university library you used to spend hours and hours in studying, or the castle you’ve been trying all your life to conquer.

Or perhaps the room is torn between which person’s memories to draw on, and it ends up producing a strange mix of both: a busy street surrounded by lush forest instead of buildings, or a spaceship sailing on open sea.

As there is no simulated mission, there is no completing it to get out… so look for the little things that are not quite right in the simulation: a shimmer in the air, a grey brick in a red wall — a token of sorts. Finding it will make the simulation die down around you as the room goes dark again.

8.0   Mission — An Open Door: As the simulation starts, the scene that unfolds around you is a gilded hallway. It stretches on and on behind you and in front of you; along its sides, there are countless doors. Some are lavishly decorated, some made of pure gold, some of wood; some are decayed, looking like they might fall apart by mere touch; after a heavily reinforced door comes a door made of frosted glass… and so on.

But the longer you stand in place, the more you start to feel a sense of urgency: you must keep moving… you must find it. The orb. It’s there, behind one of the doors. All you have to do is choose which one to open.

Oh, you can open as many as you want, but be careful: you never know what is lurking behind them. It may be that you open one and step into a room that is nothing but air; it may be you unleash a horde of hungry monsters. Or perhaps you luck out and get a room that is just a room, with lavish couches and plush pillows, and maybe some grapes and apples set in a bowl in the middle of a gold-decorated table.

It’s not just the orb that you need to find, though... because just like in real missions, you receive a message that tells you your task — one that you have to complete, if you want the orb to help you in your quest to undo your regret.

● ● ●

N O T E:   Additionally, there are three personal tasks provided to each character as they enter the simulation. In-game, each character will be given one task. For the purposes of the test drive, we’re leaving it to players to pick a task for their character and run with it.

A   Tell someone what you are most ashamed of.

B   Let a teammate get injured during the mission.

C   Steal something from one of the rooms.

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F Y I

• TDM threads can be considered game canon so long as all parties involved agree to it.
• TDM threads can be used as samples for apps. In fact, we encourage it!
• Reserves are now open!
• Apps open September 26.
• For any questions regarding TDM, please direct them here. For questions about the game, please refer to the FAQ.

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FOR SOME FUN:
Have a clue about the upcoming mission—

▶ NAV

Comments

cain | starfighter

[blyat]

WAKE UP

2.0 [The world comes back in, a disorienting blur of dulled senses and distant pain. Cain sits sharply upright, arm at once curling around his middle in a protective brace, but—where he was once bleeding out, now he's stitched and bandaged, dressed neatly in a plain white medical gown. The dream in his mind is still fresh, but he can hardly make sense of it against the hard panic that presses in once consciousness regains. Abel. His head whips around, finding half his vision cordoned off by privacy curtains. He is lying on a cot. It's clear to him that this is a sick bay; whoever attended him is gone, although he notices shadows moving beneath the edge of the curtain.

Cain watches this movement, and only once it fades does he lurch out of bed with a grunt, sore everywhere, prepared to make a run for it. He pulls back the curtain with a yank. If he spots another patient in the room with him—] You didn't see me. Got it?

[Then he's out. In this condition, running is a laborious, difficult task, but he doesn't give up even when a woman's voice begins to chirp in his ear. Cain slaps his hand over the technology, trying to turn it off—when the hell did it get there?—and veers abruptly around a corner, hissing under his breath.]

Shut up!

[And maybe running straight into someone else.]

SUNLIGHT ROOM

5.0 [After the debacle of being awake, Cain has oriented himself and found a clean change of clothes. (His flightsuit was ruined; fine by him, as he wouldn't have chosen to wear it anyway.) Dressed now in a pair of army pants, dark hoodie, boots and gloves—thanks to the lady in his ear notifying him of the drop, the first favor she's done for him so far—Cain begins wandering the station.

It is typical, and spacious, reminding him more of an Alliance outpost close to Earth than anything he's encountered before or after his own enlistment. A few times, crossing into a cleanly pristine kitchen or through the delicate laboratory, Cain's ducked his head and glanced around, certain he'd be caught and chased out. It's... odd to be allowed free range, to go where he pleases, to have nothing barred based on his lower status as colonist and Fighter alike.

Then he finds the sunlight room.] Holy shit. [A sound of awe. Cain stands on the bridge, gaping wide-eyed with almost childish wonder, partially screened by red autumnal leaves. He's not going to be moving for a while.]

SIMULATION

7.0 [The recreation is authentic. It feels real, more advanced than any of the training rooms he'd ever used on the fleet ships, technology the Alliance could only dream to get its grimy hands on—and perhaps for the first time Cain is fully convinced of the bizarre, alternate reality he's intruded upon. It's closer to 'Teron tech for how it has ripped something straight out of his head and constructed it vividly around him.

The environment is harsh, barren, dusty red rock from one rim of the horizon to the other. In front of where he's standing, a black structure juts out from the landscape—ruins of what appears to be a crashed spaceship. Nearly buried beneath debris, across the hull of the ship, are blocky letters: FRONTIER.]

How do we get out of this thing? [He's frustrated. He doesn't want anyone to see this. Cain starts off at a brisk walk, hunting for some way to shut down the system.] C'mon.

8.0 [The urgency doesn't belong to him, or it shouldn't, but still he's driven to the next door in pursuit of the mission's goal. Once he reaches it, Cain hesitates and brings a hand to tap the earpiece at the side of his head, his eyes turned down the long hall. Text materializes to whoever has partnered up with him under the username RELIANT:]

hey, where the hell did you go
im not doing this shit alone

5.0

[preseance]

（ agathine's a small town. ain't much more than a few hundred souls an' an open sky, skinny trees that ain't all that good for climbin', an' water towers that hold more dust than drink. dusty and dry in the hottest summer months, lush an' verdant otherwise. the sunlight room's a balm, for all he knows it ain't real. real enough to the mind, the senses. wind blows, the sun warms the skin, an' he'd swear if pressed that he can hear the grass grow when he lays down on it. tree bark feels rough beneath his palms. he'd swear he's puttin' miles on the farmer's tan that has darkened his arms an' hands to an earthy nut brown.

but there's no mistakin' that it's his favourite place on the ximilia. only one that feels like home.

he's headin' out near the network of ponds that reminds him so much of frogman creek, bag slung over one shoulder and a cigarette snagged at the corner of his mouth like a punctuation mark to the easy smile he gives the fella as he approaches. he lifts a hand in greetin' an' then: ）

Hell, it's sure somethin', ain't it?

（ his accent's so heavy it could lay a man out at thirty paces. lord have mercy. ）

[blyat]

[As soon as a figure cuts into the corner of his vision, he whips to face them, distrust in the furrow of a brow and down curve of mouth. The accent is thick, but it doesn't mask words enough for Cain to fail to hear what's said.]

I guess. [Dark eyes drift between the man's outstretched hand and the cherry-red dot of the burning cigarette.] Never seen anything like it before.

[Is all of this from Earth? The question rises in his mind, but he doesn't ask, clasping that hand in an awkward—but firm—shake, quick to release, leather gloves yielding and supple in contact.]

You got another one of those you want to share? [Cain pantomimes the cigarette between the man's lips.] I'll trade for it.

[preseance]

（ talkin' around a cigarette is about as old hat to him as a baby teethin' on a whiskey rag at this point, but he still takes it between his fingers to tap the ash off the end. they ain't filtered, an' this one's faintly crooked from where it's been cached over one ear until he saw fit to light it. seen better days, that's for sure, but it ain't the one he offers out. instead, tuckin' the chipper back in one corner of his mouth, he pulls a foil pack outta his breast pocket.

he taps one up with a practiced gesture, then holds it out for the fella to take it. the battered label on one side says chesterfield. ）

Oh yeah?

（ he ain't got much intention of makin' it a trade. but he knows the game. ）

[blyat]

[The name Chesterfield doesn't mean anything to him as his eyes read the package, but it doesn't matter, because it's all the same. To Cain's experience, it's contraband. He only realizes once prompted to offer a trade that—things are different here.]

Shit. Uh. [He pats down his pockets; he has a gun, but that's hardly an even trade. And what does it matter when it's so easy to obtain?] Look, I just got here. I don't really have much yet. I mean, that you can't just get on your own.

[Miraculously more well-provided for here than he may ever have been in his life.]

What do you want for it? [And, in a world where it must be said:] ... I'm not gonna suck your dick. [That'd be at least a few packs. He isn't so desperate yet. Far less so after all that's happened.]

[preseance]

（ well, good christ there it is. gene's eyebrows lift faintly, an' then he just. scratches one nail against his eyebrow, palm outward in obvious thought. trading sex acts for ain't hardly nothin' new to him — an' he ain't half so precious as some fellas about the concept when it happens between men. but he ain't used to it bein' laid out like that to a damn stranger, neither. give him a second to recalibrate his approach, an' then: ）

Last I checked the goin' rate for a blowjob was two cigarettes, anyhow. （ this obvious sarcasm. ） Besides, I'm a dinner an' dancin' kinda man, myself.

（ gene just waggles the pack about invitingly. ）

Tell you what, first one's free. After that you owe me a limerick.

[blyat]

[Dinner and dancing. Cain's eyes narrow dubiously, but he doesn't make a comment otheriwse — even if it's just confirmation that they are two very different people.]

Way too cheap. [Sarcasm or not, he's rolling with the joke.] At least three cigarettes and a bottle of whisky.

[Haha, he's so funny.]

... What the hell is a 'limerick'? [School dropout at your service. He does reach for the pack, pinching one of the offered cigarettes in a gloved hand before trading it to his lips.] Uh, you got a light, too?

[preseance]

Oh, noted then. Well, if ever I've got a hankering, you've given me some valuable wooin' information.

（ obligingly, he pulls a battered old zippo outta his pocket an' flicks it live, leanin' in. outta habit, he cups his hand around the flame even though the wind ain't quite what he's used to in this room. ）

Never heard one? They got a rhymin' cadence, somethin' like, ah... （ excuse him while he thinks a moment, an' then with a snap of his lighter shut: ） Hell, most'a the ones I know are dirty. Hold on — the one best fit for new company's probably:

'There once was a man from Nantucket,
Who kept all of his cash in a bucket,
But his daughter, named Nan,
Ran away with a man,
And as for the bucket, Nantucket.'

（ look,,,, ）

[blyat]

[A broad grin stretches around the end of the cigarette, perched between his lips, lit a burning cherry-red by the lighter. He holds it in his mouth for a moment, inhales, then blows the smoke back out—away from the man in front of him. It almost feels wrong to smoke in here. A shifty glance around confirms no one is coming to tell him to get out; old habits die hard.]

What the hell was that? [He snickers around the cigarette, softening the question.] Think it'd probably be better if I knew what Nantucket is. [An Earth place? So is his first assumption based on the context.] But I get the point... stupid rhyming, huh?

Okay, but now you have to tell me a dirty one.

[There's a gleam in his eyes. It feels like the first real humor he's felt since waking up on this station, alone and far away from everything he's known.]

[preseance]

（ he huffs, an' takes a drag of his own, hollowin' out his cheeks real brief before he blows the breath back out. like cain, he's polite enough about it, but unlike him it don't occur to him it ain't a polite thing to do indoors. hell, even the subbies do their best to get away with it. ）

Ah... （ a bit of a sheepish shift of his body language, an' the faintest embarrassed tinge to his cheeks. he ain't shy, exactly — right about the first time a fella comes to you an' drops trou so you can diagnose him with the clap you lose all sense of shame — but there's somethin' miles different about ribald jokes among one's comrades an' a relative stranger. he ducks his head some, an' then clears his throat to recite: ）

'There once was a man from Nantucket,
Whose dick was so long he could suck it.
He said with a grin,
As he wiped off his chin,
If my ear were a cunt I would fuck it'

（ lord, but the shade'a that blush has deepened by degrees the further along he gets, but he rounds it out gamely, endin' with a bit of a flourishin' bow an' a faint grin. ）

Now, don't you go repeatin' that one in decent company. You'll give me a reputation.

[blyat]

[His grin turns wolfish, a reaction to the blush he can see blooming on the guy's face. Shamelessness makes it easier to enjoy someone else's embarrassment. But then—]

Oh my god.

[Cigarette pinched between gloved fingers, Cain bursts out with laughter, a sharp ha! at the shock of unexpected obscenity.]

That's... fucking hilarious. Wait, did you come up with that yourself?

[preseance]

（ he laughs as well, rubbin' a hand across the bridge of his nose. it's clear that even though he's embarrassed, he's willin' an' able to shake it off an' carry on the conversation like he ain't gonna be throwin' up hail marys later. ）

Nah. Just one'a them things gets passed around. Reckon there weren't a fella that didn't know it back in my day. An' if they claimed they didn't they were probably lyin' to you. Godless bunch'a heathens.

（ but it ain't a condemnation, it's said with clear affection as he leans in against the rail. ）

So you got a name, or am I just gonna have to call you Threefer?

（ you know, three cigarettes... ）

8.0 — un: cursebreaker

[fayruh]

( Feyre doesn’t like this. All these doors. Too much could go wrong, each one reminds her of a Court (despite none of what’s back home being here), and yet that urgency—

She jolts as the message unexpectedly comes in, frowning immediately. Not at the words. Not at the tone of said words. It’s the fact that someone is in her head and it’s not her mate. How is she supposed to get used to that? )

Sorry. ( From where she’s standing several doors down the hall, her head dips slightly following the apology, moving forward to his position. ) I thought there might be something here. Wasn’t sure. It’s hard to tell.

[blyat]

[He's noticed it's easier to close his eyes to read the message—and easier, in that way, to accept they're present in his head and not on a screen physically in front of him. If not for his encounter with Colteron technology, Cain doubts he'd feel half as comfortable. And even then.

Once the unfamiliar woman—Cursebreaker the only cryptic name he has to call her by—comes back down the hall, he shakes his head and waves one hand to hurry her up.]

Did you see anything? 'Cause if we can use it— [his gloved hand is on the gilt handle of the next door, already twisting it open, only for a gust of wind to blast them both in the face. It's powerful enough to yank the handle out of his grasp and slam the door fully open. Cain shields his face, hissing.] Fuck, fuck, get it closed!

[He's struggling to shut the door against what seems to be a hurricane; his body is immediately drenched with rainwater for the effort.]

8.0

[ravkas]

[ these missions have become tiresome. his personality was made for puzzles, just not the sorts that feel like poorly thought out experiments meant to tire out lab rats — and certainly not ones that lend themselves to cruelty. let a teammate get injured during the mission. there is only one teammate in here with him, someone new with an unfamiliar personality. but if nikolai can let the darkling live, then a talking ship isn't going to have him compromising his morals now.

he sends a message back, his username lost on most — SOBACHKA, ravkan for puppy. ]

aren't we all inherently alone?
i'm not that far from you, though. there's a door with a crystal handle, you should definitely —

[ he doesn't finish his thought — not open it — because a familiar screech fills the halls as a horde of silvery, eyeless monsters with gaping teeth come spilling from the room. his companion opened the crystal-handled door. perfect.

nikolai could walk the other way, pick his nails, admire the walls — do anything, really. he could allow the dark-haired man to get hurt, and his task would be fulfilled, and he'd be one step closer to the orb helping him undo his regret. a life without darkness swimming in his veins, without the numbing fear of his mind being consumed by the monster. he would be a better king. he would be a better man.

a king would never leave a drowning man behind. nikolai has never needed a crown to know that.

he circles back, drawing his gun and aiming for the monster that has the man pinned. several of them are already dead on the ground. he's not bad in a fight. nikolai fires, freeing him, and then slips into the fray, grabbing him by the wrist and hauling him out, pressing him against the wall, his gloved hand clamped over his mouth. ]

Quiet. [ nikolai grins, giving him a wink. ] They can't see.

[ he throws his gun through the open door, the metal skidding loudly across the floor — and the monsters turn toward the sound, following until they're all neatly inside the room once more. nikolai runs over and slams the door shut. ]

Well, that was messy. I've already failed my task.

[blyat]

[In the act of rolling his eyes—the last he needs is someone waxing poetic in his head about loneliness—Cain is assailed by a horde of freakish beasts, teeth like thin daggers, faces with eyeless sockets. He's fought against enough Colterons, in and out of simulation, not to be startled by inhuman creatures. But these are not the insectoid aliens he's become desensitized to seeing on a battlefield of stars and darkness; the horror takes root alongside fear, ingrained training all that saves his life as they descend upon him.

He was always a good shot, even as a kid. The gun goes off, splitting monstrous heads in a rain of what appears to be metallic blood, drenching the dark fabric of his clothes. Then it jams. He's had little practice with them prior to the mission—a mistake that nearly means his life until he's hauled back and pulled to the side, back slamming against the wall.

A hand claps over his mouth. Dark eyes glare wildly, and his teeth dig into the leather on the palm, retaliation for that wink.]

What the hell was that? [After he's released, after the door is soundly shut—punctuated with an unnecessary kick to the outside by his booted foot—Cain whirls on the other man.] You wandered off and I almost got killed! And you threw away your gun. Fuck.

[He paces, jittery with stress and anger, until finally slowing to look at his assigned partner.]

You shouldn't just tell someone your task, puppy. [Sobachka hadn't escaped his notice.] Not if it has to do with them. [Cain lifts a free hand, rubbing his face.] ... We've got the same one.

[ravkas]

[ nikolai is not expecting this level of ire after saving his teammate's life, but he's dealt with many a colorful personality over his storied lifetime, so it doesn't even make him blink. he does peer down the hall to see if anyone else might be coming. regretfully not. ]

You still have your gun. [ he points this out mildly. ] So I'll just have to stick close to you. Most would consider themselves lucky for such a gift.

[ he doesn't wink again, because he has inspected his glove and those are definite teeth marks in the leather. wonderful. he perks, though, at the mention of his nickname. ]

My mother used to call me that. [ she's not calling him anything anymore since he banished her to the southern colonies, but that's neither here nor there. ] And why not? I'm not here to jump when a talking ship tells me to. It would at least have to be a talking dog.

[ but he can see the distrust in the other man's eyes, that a talking ship might be preferable to listen to than a flesh and blood stranger. nikolai doesn't extend his hand, but instead bumps their shoulders together as he beckons him down the hall to continue their search for the orb. ]

Well, come along. These doors aren't going to open themselves, and you've got the only gun. I'm Nikolai. King of Ravka, if that's important to you.

[blyat]

[It isn't the ship. It's the promise of the ship, doubled into the mending of a mistake he's made twice now, can't seem to stop making, one that continues to take him further and further from home. There are other snide remarks on his lips — that Nikolai enjoys his own company enough for the both of them, that he's only ever heard sobachka used as a derogative — but all is banished at the introduction.

King of Ravka. A place he's never heard, and doesn't know, except that some of those words are familiar. Nikolai. It sounds so much more colonist than any name he's heard in months. They share a similar language, it seems, if not the same world. The desperate pining is almost overwhelming; the desire to be close to home so intense that even a silly childhood nickname makes him sore.]

Cain. [And that's it: a simple lie, continued.] Royalty, huh? You must really want something bad if you're here. Thought rich, spoiled guys like you'd get everything they needed. [He weathers the jostling, tempted to knock back harder before he reminds himself this isn't another fighter and there's nothing to prove. He's on his own.] Guess I can't call you printsessa even if you look more like one than a king.

[With a dark-eyed, suggestive look, he quickens his pace to overtake Nikolai down the hall.]

You're gonna let me keep the gun, even after I just told you my task means I have to let you get hurt?

[ravkas]

[ it is derogatory, at least the way most people had used it. mongrel. but his mother hadn't meant it that way when she'd given him the name, or at least he believes that to be true. there are so few memories he holds fond from his childhood that he refuses to give up any single one of them. ]

Almost everything. [ he does wish to be free of the darkness, so much so that's hard to think of much else some days. would he give up cain's life for it, if that was the orb's price? he wants to say he knows the answer. ] Do you want to call me that? I also answer to "handsome" or "sweetheart."

[ he very much suspects that cain wouldn't just let him get hurt, but wouldn't feel much remorse if he had to shoot him himself. but they're just getting to know each other, so he's confident that will change. ]

Seeing as I don't have a weapon, one of us should. [ nikolai stops beside cain at the next door, pressing his ear to the wood. ] We're all here for a chance to undo our regrets. I'm not here to send anyone to their death. I thought I was a team player until I came here, honestly. But I guess I'm just stubborn. I don't like rules. Not sure what's inside, but will you spot me if I open this door?

[ too late, he's already opening it. ]

[blyat]

[At the door, he gets a better look at Nikolai — at the king, a concept still mystically foreign enough to feel unreal, some storybook fantasy told to little boys and girls in a childhood long since behind him. Tall and handsome, Nikolai's appearance calls to mind the genetically modified navigators from Earth, only it's clear to see that these good looks are natural. Clean and golden. He is attractive in a way so far out of Cain's league that it is laughable; it doesn't stop him from looking.]

Didn't say I was gonna let you die, [bitten between teeth,] maybe just a scratch, they can fix that easy— fuck, hold on a minute!

[The door swings open. Beyond it, the room is dark, and cold, and cavernous. After a few moments of eerie silence, Cain takes a tentative step over the threshold, gun drawn, head turning to check all corners of the seemingly limitless black space.]

Do you see the orb thing, or whatever it is we're supposed to get? 'Cause I don't.

[A few more precarious steps inside and Cain finds himself standing at the shore of a dark, innocuous pool of water. Brow furrowed, frowning, he glances back to Nikolai for confirmation of what he's seeing. As soon as he turns, the water ripples — and in a flash, something long, wet, and tentacled has latched onto Cain's ankle. It happens almost too quickly to track.

He's dragged off his feet and down into the pool. Water closes cold over his head; he'd managed to get in one shocked swallow of air beforehand, eyes staring dizzily up at the glassy surface of the pool above him as it fades further and further away, as he's dragged deeper and deeper under. In panic, Cain pries the knife strapped to his calf and begins stabbing the leg of whatever creature has hold of him — he hears a faraway screech, inky blood like oil gushing from the wound — he's released, kicking furiously upward, breaking the surface of the water, gasping.

And then sinking again. As becomes clear by the disordered thrashing that follows, Cain does not know how to swim.]

[ravkas]

[ he doesn't see the orb — yet. but there's a distinct buzzing in his ears that makes him think it could be here.

he doesn't have the chance to investigate the thought before cain is dragged under. every terminally reckless nerve ending in nikolai fights to instantly spring into the water, but he doesn't, dropping to a crouch, his hands splayed in the cold, inky wetness as he tries to see through the dark. bubbles churn to the surface, a garbled howl sounding from below, and then cain breaks the surface several meters away with a furious gasp.

relief floods nikolai, until he recognizes the all too familiar movements of a drowning man. cain, with all his panicked flailing, is perhaps just as dangerous to him as whatever monsters lurk below.

nikolai dives into the water, disappearing below as he swims toward cain, circling him. he's saved drowning men before — never pleasantly. something silver flashes. cain's knife, still gripped in his hand, ready to accidentally — or not — sink into nikolai's flesh to repay the favor of attempting to save him.

he swims up behind him, rising to the surface for air and hooking him beneath the arms, pulling cain flush to his chest. it's like trying to hold a live wire still. ]

Cain. [ nikolai's ease falls away, wielding a tone that could command armies. ] If you keep struggling, you're going to —

[ a cold vice clenches around his ankle. nikolai draws in a sharp breath to fill his lungs, then they're both dragged down again, the thick waters blocking off all sound. the creature, down only one tentacled limb from cain's earlier attack, swirls the rest of its legs around them, and nikolai knows if they're caught, they're done for. he reaches for cain's knife, prying it out his grip, then releases cain with a shove upward. nikolai twists around to dive toward the creature, sinking the blade into one black eye socket.

the same inky blood spurts forth in a blossoming cloud, blinding him, his eyes and nose suddenly burning. he recoils, trying to swim away from the poisonous substance, but everything is dark now, his sense of direction lost. ]

[blyat]

[The world is dark and cold. Painful, the way his chest has constricted and he's sure that he's swallowed water, but his head is above the surface, and desperate survival keeps him there even at the shock of arms around his middle from behind. He keeps twisting, flailing, can't help it — but the voice in his ear has enough power to momentarily cut through sheer, hard-edged panic. Nikolai.

Then they're under again, and it doesn't matter. This time he does get a whole mouthful of water sucked down, until everything is subsumed by the blackness and he suspects this is how he's going to die. Not a bullet in the stomach; not rotting in a prison cell. It's strange, because he's never feared water before. Never had a chance to. Never imagined it could be something like this.

His hand is pried open, knife taken away, and he's shoved back up. Inelegant thrashing manages to get him to the shore, or close enough that his boots find gravel, and Cain collapses heaving onto the bank. He spits up water, shaking and sick. It takes a few moments to realize he's alone.]

Shit. [Cain looks over the pool wildly — ripples beginning to calm to glassy stillness.] Shit, shit, shit, shit... you idiot...

[He could leave him. It would satisfy the requirements of the mission. But they haven't found the orb, and Nikolai — was nice to him. He's a king, somewhere, to someone. That's more than Cain will ever be, more than his life is worth. He thought he could do this, yet even with panic seized around his heart, a leaden rock in his chest, he doesn't think he can. Cain paces the shore, kicking rocks into the water as precious seconds slip past, agonizing in this indecisive turmoil. He can't even swim, so how is he supposed to help? Or maybe it doesn't even matter. Maybe he just needs to be the distraction.

Cain wades back in, waist-deep, screaming to the beast below.]

Hey, asshole! Up here! [Kicking more, churning up frothy black water, eyes scouring for a sign of Nikolai in the depths that he might be able to reach.] You want me? Come get me, you little fucker!

[ravkas]

[ the sudden ruckus helps. despite his blinded senses, he feels the movement of the creature and latches on as it travels up, the water clearing away some of the black blood. he catches a glimpse of cain in the water, a wiry leg wrapping around his waist, dragging him back in, and that's the only point of reference nikolai needs.

he stays below water this time, swimming beneath the beast to plunge the blade into its fleshy underbelly and and flaying it open. this time he's prepared for the onslaught of dark liquid that pours out, pushing through the black cloud to catch cain's thrashing body against his, pushing both of them toward the surface.

and then they're free. or at least they're free to tackle an entirely new problem, which is cain's maddening attempt at drowning as fast as he possibly can. ]

You came back for me. [ common sense tells him to let cain go or he will drown them both. but if cain sinks again, nikolai doesn't know if he can find him. his eyes are bloodshot, his vision too blurry to even see the shore. ] Cain, look at me. I have you. I'm not going to let you drown, but I need you to help me right now.

[ he puts a hand to cain's cheek, gloved fingers gripping his jaw firmly. cain's pulse jumps against his fingertips, but his hold is unrelenting, his voice quietly commanding. ]

Look at me. I have you.

[blyat]

[Drowning, a second time, isn't any better than the first. It may even be worse, because now he knows its pain. Cain is aware of standing on the shore — and then he's under again, leashed by a dark and sinuous tentacle, swallowing water out of sheer terror for his fate. Consciousness is slippery, sliding in and out of his grasp like a handful of wet sand.

Something changes, and the next he's aware, there's a strong grip around him and his head has breached the surface. A voice, commanding; textured fingertips against his skin. It should be reassuring. It might have been, if his chest wasn't full of seawater.

Unresponsive, Cain soon passes out, sudden dead weight in the other's arms.]

[ravkas]

[ it actually helps to have cain limp in his arms. mostly. the other little part of it makes swimming more difficult to manage, but nikolai does manage, as he always has and always will. even if the shoreline is just a blur right now. it's a blur he races to, because cain isn't responding and nikolai can't stop to tell if he's breathing.

by the time he wades to shore and throws him unceremoniously to the hard sand, he knows without a doubt he's not. he wastes no time in pressing his mouth to cain's, exhaling sharp breaths, then pulling back to doggedly pump his chest. ]

Come on. [ nikolai mutters under his breath, counting his compressions in his head. he returns his mouth to cain's to fill his lungs with warm air, gently tilting his chin up, his lips salty and metallic from the creature's blood. ] Come back to me.