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towerofanimus2011-09-19 04:20 pm
terranicidal.livejournal.com) wrote in towerofanimus2011-09-19 04:20 pm
Entry tags:
eyes wide open [closed to dorm 2-14]
Characters: Abel Nightroad, Cain Knightlord, and open to JD and Enma if they wish!
Setting: dorms, room 2-14
Format: prose
Summary: arrival at the Tower and initial wtfery.
Warnings: expected violence (though not necessarily to any persons), coarse language, perhaps mention of death since. you know. 'hay your world is destroyed!!!1' letter shenanigans.
Move.
Move. Move.
Move. Move. Movemovemove--
When the temporary state of sleep paralysis wore off, Abel was jerking upright in his standard issue bed with its obligatory sheets within the unremarkable four walls beyond them. He was breathing hard -- as if startled from a dream with suddenness; rarely had he ever woken up somewhere he hadn't fallen asleep and found it to be a good thing. Sadly, the situation he finds himself in isn't all too outside the norm, save a few unerringly jarring additions to the scenario.
First -- he is in a room shared with four beds instead of the officer's quarters he'd slept in that night with its lone mattress and his things where he left them.
Second -- that this is nowhere on the colony he can recollect; he has never seen any addition to the base or the surrounding city that had a room of this make. Not even in the barracks. There are subtle tells he's somewhere foreign; the smell of the air and the make of the sheets... the sounds of the world beyond his little room.
Thirdly, and perhaps most disturbingly -- he is affixed with an addition to his person. A collar... its weight unusual around his throat, and one he immediately lifts hands to explore with a puzzled expression. What the fuck is...
...This?
He sees his twin in the bed beyond; there's one worry assuaged. Had they been separated, there would've been an immediate... issue. Was this a test? Neither of them had been subjected to this kind of experimentation in... a while. Certainly nothing so outwardly obvious as this for the sake of appearances while they held rank over their fellow Martians. There is a confused and more than slightly irritated frown at his brow as he finds his feet, tugging at the collar as he fumbles to find some sort of mechanism to release it from him. He's not a fucking dog. --Is this tubing?
He's disturbed from his train of thought by the discovery of a piece of paper flittering to the floor before his booted feet as he shifts legs off the bed; a letter...?
Abel reaches to retrieve it, opening it carefully. If this was some sort of session of surprise 'training' his superiors worked to enact without alerting him, he was highly unimpressed, and they would be sure to understand his displeasure when he--
...
....
. . . .
World... destroyed?
Survivors? ...Is this some kind of joke? He stares blankly at the page as if its contents were in another language he couldn't comprehend.
What kind of bullshit is this...?
Did they think he was a gullible child? ...A simulation, then. Some sort of... post-apocalyptic survival training mission? He finds his fingers clenching over the page, the letter wrinkled in his palm. Of course. Of course it's just another foolish ploy, some... ridiculous scenario in which he's made to run the maze with his brother like lab rats. When had he started assuming they'd inherited some sense of human rights to stand above nonsense like this?
He tosses the paper aside... climbing to his feet and still fiddling indignantly with the device at his throat before roughly shoving at his brother's shoulder in an attempt to rouse him. Wake up, Cain. ...It's time to play at being mice running the wheel, again.
Setting: dorms, room 2-14
Format: prose
Summary: arrival at the Tower and initial wtfery.
Warnings: expected violence (though not necessarily to any persons), coarse language, perhaps mention of death since. you know. 'hay your world is destroyed!!!1' letter shenanigans.
Move.
Move. Move.
Move. Move. Movemovemove--
When the temporary state of sleep paralysis wore off, Abel was jerking upright in his standard issue bed with its obligatory sheets within the unremarkable four walls beyond them. He was breathing hard -- as if startled from a dream with suddenness; rarely had he ever woken up somewhere he hadn't fallen asleep and found it to be a good thing. Sadly, the situation he finds himself in isn't all too outside the norm, save a few unerringly jarring additions to the scenario.
First -- he is in a room shared with four beds instead of the officer's quarters he'd slept in that night with its lone mattress and his things where he left them.
Second -- that this is nowhere on the colony he can recollect; he has never seen any addition to the base or the surrounding city that had a room of this make. Not even in the barracks. There are subtle tells he's somewhere foreign; the smell of the air and the make of the sheets... the sounds of the world beyond his little room.
Thirdly, and perhaps most disturbingly -- he is affixed with an addition to his person. A collar... its weight unusual around his throat, and one he immediately lifts hands to explore with a puzzled expression. What the fuck is...
...This?
He sees his twin in the bed beyond; there's one worry assuaged. Had they been separated, there would've been an immediate... issue. Was this a test? Neither of them had been subjected to this kind of experimentation in... a while. Certainly nothing so outwardly obvious as this for the sake of appearances while they held rank over their fellow Martians. There is a confused and more than slightly irritated frown at his brow as he finds his feet, tugging at the collar as he fumbles to find some sort of mechanism to release it from him. He's not a fucking dog. --Is this tubing?
He's disturbed from his train of thought by the discovery of a piece of paper flittering to the floor before his booted feet as he shifts legs off the bed; a letter...?
Abel reaches to retrieve it, opening it carefully. If this was some sort of session of surprise 'training' his superiors worked to enact without alerting him, he was highly unimpressed, and they would be sure to understand his displeasure when he--
...
....
. . . .
World... destroyed?
Survivors? ...Is this some kind of joke? He stares blankly at the page as if its contents were in another language he couldn't comprehend.
What kind of bullshit is this...?
Did they think he was a gullible child? ...A simulation, then. Some sort of... post-apocalyptic survival training mission? He finds his fingers clenching over the page, the letter wrinkled in his palm. Of course. Of course it's just another foolish ploy, some... ridiculous scenario in which he's made to run the maze with his brother like lab rats. When had he started assuming they'd inherited some sense of human rights to stand above nonsense like this?
He tosses the paper aside... climbing to his feet and still fiddling indignantly with the device at his throat before roughly shoving at his brother's shoulder in an attempt to rouse him. Wake up, Cain. ...It's time to play at being mice running the wheel, again.
no subject
The name came out as a half command, firm and low, demanding Abel listen to him and not go rushing off to do something that would only get them both into trouble.
"I never said that you were, only that this is the most likely reason. Shouting and swearing isn't going to get us free."
Not that this would stop his brother, he was sure. Abel was who he was, and there was no changing that.
"If we're in a simulation, then it's likely we're unconscious and monitored in the laboratories. We won't be brought out of it until they deem it's time, so demanding it isn't going to do anything."
no subject
His fingers are shaking for how hard he's trying to tug the piece of shit affixed to his neck off -- but they once more inevitably slip free with an exhaled curse, without giving way. Fuck! What the hell is this, and why is it necessary in a simulation? It's just... degrading.
no subject
Deciding that to voice this to Abel would just cause more grief than was necessary, he walked over and placed his hands over Abel's and held his twin's fingers in his own.
"Stop, you're only going to hurt yourself."
no subject
Just seeing it on Cain seemed to serve as a visual reminder of their inferiority and it made him see nothing but red in response.
"Do you think I care? None of this is real," he murmurs, frowning in his intensity, determined to find a release mechanism.
no subject
"Real or imagined, your pain is not something I want to see. So for my sake, if not for theirs, please stop this. You'll hurt yourself, and you know it won't do any good other than to anger them."
no subject
He hates it when his brother does this -- gives him that look, uses the only card to truly play against him, the vulnerability of a fondness that burned bright for his family and family alone. The irritation is focused solely on his twin in that instant, displeasure radiating like a palpable aura, before some of the tension leaks from his shoulders in a visible sign of his concession.
"...then... by all means, Major."
He draws his hands back -- more calmly, this time, to gesture broadly beyond him.
"Where do we go from here?"
no subject
"If the letter is a clue to the simulation, then we're likely to encounter a post-apocalyptic type world outside. Which could mean nuclear radiation, dangerous atmosphere and barren wastelands."
He doesn't know what direction to head, or even the end goal, but staying here was obviously not it.
"We should soak a couple of shirts in the alcohol and tie them around our noses, the smell will be bad but it should help filter anything noxious away. Cover as much skin as possible in case of radiation, and see what we can scavenge from this location in terms of food and drink before leaving."
no subject
Sighing, he scrubbed a hand over his face before shrugging his shoulders, waving his brother and his well-laid plan off in favor of heading for the door, instead.
"I don't have any intention of playing their game. If they plan on using you to get me to adhere to the mission objective without actually supplying one, they're sadly mistaken on the effectiveness of that front."
Fuck this. He's going to go and find a weapon - and then he's going to use it as many times as it necessary before they release him from this pointless and degrading nonsense.
no subject
He hadn't expected his influence to last for long, or at least not for it to make much of a difference. His presence could mean the difference between Abel killing a simulated man or not, but he'd still pull the trigger if only to wound regardless.
"Then don't you think striding out there is playing into their hands; if they haven't given us a mission directive, then obviously they want us to explore and discover it for ourselves."
That was one of the reasons he had suggested leaving this room in the first place, as well as the strategic advantages to knowing their surrounding terrain. But if it kept Abel safe and not causing too much carnage...
"If we want to not play their game, we should just wait here until they get bored of watching us do nothing. Either they'll end the simulation, or they'll send in something to give us a clue."
no subject
Finding it clear save for more doors, he leaned back in to look at Cain.
"You can sit here and collect dust, or you can come with me. It's up to you, but I'm not being treated like a lab rat any longer."
no subject
He called out, far too late to stop his brother idiotically sticking his head out into the hallway. Honestly, hadn't he listened at all when they were being taught military strategy? That hallway could have been full of snipers just waiting for movement, and then he would have been one dead clone - durable they might be, but even they couldn't get up from a bullet through the brain. Abel should have at least stuck his hand out first, just in case, but apparently today was a day for foolishness.
Sighing softly, he slowly got to his feet and brushed off some imaginary dust from his uniform to cover how hard his heart had pounded for the brief moment Abel had been in (imaginary) danger.
"If I decided to stay here, would you leave me?"
It's a moot point really, he doesn't think Abel would leave him behind, but neither is he planning to remain put like a petulant child not getting his own way.
no subject
"Yes," he lied. Truthfully, he'd only go far enough to make it seem as though he would, knowing his twin would eventually cave and follow. Or, that's what he would hope. If Abel was forced to double back and sit here with him, he'd be extremely displeased -- and probably try to physically drag Cain with him instead.
"So don't be difficult. You have a collar; don't make me find a leash and let's go."
no subject
Haha. Very funny, Abel. Cain gave his brother a look to suggest his attempt at humour was woefully bad, before shrugging and following him out towards the corridor.
A lot of his 'superiors' had mistaken this willingness to follow passively alongside Abel for a weakness and submissiveness, when it was nothing of the sort. He simply knew how to pick his battles, and he knew that if it were of true importance then Abel would listen to him. Otherwise, it was wisdom more than submissiveness that made him follow Abel's lead.
"Go where?"
no subject
Just saying.
Abel, satisfied that Cain was now his shadow, headed tentatively into the hall -- wary, if only because pain was very real here, and he had no idea what they were in for if the collars were any indicator of the unusual elements injected into this particular simulation.
"Until we find someone."
Because he's going to kill them once they do, if the first thing out of their mouth isn't the mission objective -- assuming he bothers listening at all.
no subject