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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 envelope, devoid of any insignia, had told him that his world and those he knew had been destroyed. No more hospital. No more awesome wings at the bar. No more Elliot, Turk, or Dr. Cox. Hell, he'd wager the Janitor was probably ruling the world that was. That thought had been a strike to this being an elaborate fantasy.
JD had come to before Cain and explored as far as the staircase before he grew a tad apprehensive. After all, in his headspace it was often dangerous to explore past a certain point. For JD that was it, as if one step would seal his fate and take him where he probably didn't want to go. When he stepped back in to the room he blinked a bit when he noticed one of his supposed roommates looking horribly confused. Shell-shocked as if he were wondering what he'd woken up to.
"Usually the only blonds I have daydreams about have a chest on them and enjoy partaking in jello wrestling on a summer afternoon. You're not secretly a woman thrown in to confuse my security are you?"
Cain? Meet JD. He's an idiot.
no subject
Turning and looking in surprise at the other man, his brow furrowed slightly as he tried to make sense of what he was saying. If this was one of the simulated people for this test then he was obviously malfunctioning somehow, as that sentence hadn't made any sense at all.
"...No, I'm definitely male. Sorry."
Wait, why was he apologising for not being a day-dream woman for a simulated man?
no subject
JD always seems politely confused though in regards to strangers, so this is to be expected. Crossing his arms, he just sort of stared at Cain as if perplexed. He seemed solid, but then again...
"No man, it's okay. Where are we exactly?" Maybe this was like a spirit quest where one went on a journey! Those he met along the way, and met was used quite loosely, could direct the young doctor on toward Enlightenment. He visibly perked up. "Wait, so you have to be a figment of my imagination. I told Turk this is what happens when you inhale too much helium..." JD paused, expecting a glitch in the system, something to hint that this really was pretend.
"I'm pretty convinced you're a figment of my overactive imagination and all--why I'd picture a blond guy with a collar I also have on which was disturbing enough in itself is beyond me--but what's your name?"
He rambles, too...
no subject
"I'm Cain."
It was an absent answer, while he tried to think what the best course of action would be. The program must know who they were, but if this part of it were corrupted then it was possible the question was genuine, and if that was the case then the other man would be no use at all.
"And I'm not imaginary, I'm pretty sure you're the not-real one here."
no subject
"I usually don't suggest people pinch me because I just tend to avoid violence. You see, I'm a bit of a pacifist. I'm JD." He extended a hand to his supposed roommate in greeting. "I'm quite sure that I'm real, unless you want to unleash some philosophical lecture on what reality really is..."
But please don't. JD's attention span can't take it. Couldn't in college, either.
no subject
"Cain Knightlord."
He found himself automatically responding and shaking JD's hand in return, blinking a little at the other's description of himself as a pacifist. It seemed very coincidental wording, especially given the 'fault' his superiors saw as most severe in his personality, and he couldn't help but wonder what hidden purpose this was supposed to serve.
"Ah... no, we can leave that lecture for another time. Perhaps we should focus on where we are, right now?"