towerofanimus | eyes wide open [closed to dorm 2-14]

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.

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Cain, meanwhile, was already awake.

Though only scant seconds before Abel started shaking him, the sleep paralysis found him unable to move, speak, scream as he wanted to with this terrifying experience.

Abel moved into his line of sight, and the touch to his shoulder came as he finally jerked into movement and almost head-butted his brother with the ferocity of how quickly he sat up. Panting shallowly, an immediate show of fear, but one that lasted perhaps five seconds at most before it was masked.

Calming himself, he frowned when he saw the collar around his brother's neck and felt the one around his own. Coming to the same conclusions Abel had reached was not difficult; nowhere outside a training simulation would have this décor or feeling about it.

"Stay calm."

His first, and perhaps most useless, words to his brother; it was important they keep their heads, otherwise they could be trapped in here much longer than was necessary and perhaps incur painful punishment for failure.

Stay calm.

Is he joking...? This went above and beyond the training missions that had come before it -- even if it were far less trying than the others might've been perceived to be. They were collared like animals, and worse -- they had long outgrown their youth, even if they still appeared much younger than they were. Men in their late twenties were not children being bred like dogs for their breeders for the dog and pony show. They held rank; they served the humans - and did their jobs well, however much it disgusted them to do so -- Abel, openly, and Cain much more privately.

The distaste is clear in his eyes even if he wears only a mild frown at his brow. He is nearly radiating a chill that suggests his true rage as he offers a hand to pull his brother to his feet... noticing the letter for him, too, to peruse and tossing it in Cain's direction. Then he's resuming his seemingly futile effort to find a manner by which to remove the collar at his throat, eying his twin's for some hint as to its function.

"Get this off of me..."

It angered him more to see the collar around Abel's neck than it did to have one around his own, always the subjugation of his brother affecting him the most deeply.

Yet he set that aside for a moment to look at the letter tossed in his direction so carelessly, blinking bleary eyes at the paper before sighing in mild irritation. A mask, of course, there was nothing mild about the disgust and thread of fear that balled in his stomach, but this was how he had always coped.

"Can you see my glasses anywhere? I can't read this without them."

"It says our world is dead. We're the only survivors. Now get this off," he snaps curtly, in no mood to humor his brother's apparent disability with more pressing matters at hand as he continued to tug viciously at the stupid addition to his throat. It should be caving, it fucking should with the amount of force he's using... but it's not budging in the least. How is this possible? What the hell had they made the stupid thing out of?

A grunt of frustration as his fingers slide free again, slipping and losing their grip, and he grits his jaw in irritation before he crouches down to look up at Cain's, eying around for any sign of his twin's glasses. He'd be useless without them, fingers idly running over the orange collar as he looks.

"...I don't see them anywhere."

Ah.

Well, that only clinched it then, it was definitely a test of some sort. Though the simulations had definitely evolved since they were children, this was much more... thorough in detail. He wondered if there would be any simulated people around, ones programmed to either help or hinder them in their assigned mission. The ones that had appeared before had been rather robotic in personality and appearance, perhaps those had evolved as well?

Tilting his eyes down to look at where Abel was examining him, he reached up one hand to pull back messy blond hair to make it easier for his brother to carry out his inspections.

"They must be somewhere..."

Even in a simulated situation, the scientists weren't stupid enough to leave him without his glasses. Unless their aim was to test Abel's leadership capabilities, though that seemed redundant now they actually held rank and had been graded on that years before.

He never understood why Cain's vision hadn't simply been corrected, over the years; they could colonize Mars, but his twin's vision wasn't an expense worth their while? Sighing, he wound his fingers around the collar and tugged -- but his brother was in the same boat as him as far as its durability was concerned. It didn't so much as threaten to give.

"Fuck," he exhales, before finding his feet once more, exasperated... abandoning this task for now in favor of searching properly for his spectacles.

"This is ridiculous..."

Ridiculous, but no less true for it. Cain agreed with Abel privately on a lot of things, most especially the disgust and bitterness at being treated like property yet again; it stung that after years of trying to please them and being the best he could be, he was still subject to these degrading 'tests'.

Giving an almost inaudible grunt as Abel tugged on the collar, he rubbed his fingers at the back of his neck when his brother let go to move around the room.

A trunk lay at the end of each bed, so it didn't take much brainpower to assume that the trunk at the end of his bed might contain something the scientists believed pertinent to him personally on this task. Shifting his weight on the mattress, he leaned over and pulled it open; some material, still blurry in focus, seemed to be folded inside.

But joy of joys, carefully placed at the very top, were some familiar gold-rimmed glasses with strong prescription lenses.

"Aha! Found them!"

Abel gave his twin a glance over his shoulder at his discovery, before he resumed his examination of the dorm room itself; it seemed they weren't locked in, but he couldn't find any weapons on his person; if this were a combat mission extending beyond their immediate surroundings... they would have to arm themselves with whatever they found at their disposal.

"We're free to leave. What else is in the box?"

Not that he particularly cares, unless it's something he can use to shoot whatever ends up annoying him. He had lost his patience with virtual reality simulations a long, long time ago. He thought his 'superiors' had gotten the point when he'd purposely failed out of the last by repeatedly shooting not only his in-mission guide but all civilians and enemy characters as well an upwards of half a dozen times before it was cancelled due to his lack of cooperation.

Slipping his glasses onto his nose, Cain was relieved to see the world swim into focus again, even if it wasn't the world he usually saw before him when he did.

Shifting off the bed to crouch on the floor by the trunk, he began to sift through the items left inside. His expression altered, subtly so only Abel would be capable of noticing, from surprise to mild discomfort. There were some things in here, namely the photograph and pajamas (which he only wore when he was sure there would be no visitors, as it wouldn't be fitting for a Major to be seen in such childish and silly garments), which were a bit too personal for his liking.

"Uniforms, civilian clothes, our family photograph, some pajamas and slippers. Nothing technical or weapon related, check the one at the end of the bed you woke up in."

The vaguely crestfallen expression on his brother's face had the frown at his own deepening just perceptibly... and he paused, curiously, before he moved to oblige the request. Photograph? Clothes, slippers? What the hell did they need these things for in regards to a fucking training mission?

There had been no instructions or so much as a hint of the objective, neither before or during this bullshit simulation -- and he was already losing his patience as he crouches before it, opening it up and rifling inside.

"..."

Is this... a joke?

"There's... clothes, playing cards, first aid, and... alcohol."

Someone clearly thought they were being fucking cute with this. His irritation is growing as he gives his brother a bland look, eyes expressing the pulse of something impatient and extremely irked underneath it.

Alcohol?

Perhaps the placement of that and the deck of cards in Abel's trunk displayed their superiors knowledge, and probably dislike, of the Commander's nocturnal habits. Was that the reason for the addition of the photograph and pajamas in his trunk as well? Perhaps they were sending a clear message that nothing could be kept secret from them?

"It seems like they've given us the basics, plus what they would see as our weaknesses."

He's still thinking calmly, rationally and strategically; just as he had been bred and trained to do. Panic and upset wouldn't lead them anywhere, and he couldn't possibly leave it to Abel to be the voice of reason.

"Your... habits, and my sentimentality."

"Weaknesses."

He wasn't enjoying the answer any more than the rest of this, and the dull expression his brother is getting in return demonstrates as much. Before he says anything else, he closes the chest again and lifts back to his feet, tugging at the collar like a stubborn dog again.

"I want out. Now. This is fucking ridiculous. I'm not a child or an animal to be leashed and have my nose shoved in shit when I'm bad. If they have something to say, they can say it to my face."

"Abel."

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."

"They can't leave us in here indefinitely. We have duties to perform. And long as that's the case, then they should consider what I will do to them afterward if they don't release us from this pointless demonstration of the stupidity of the supposedly superior species, immediately."

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.

Perhaps it was simply another demonstration of their supposed position in society, like the symbolic placements of things personal to their lives that a tool or pet shouldn't have. A perfectly obedient animal wouldn't drink or gamble, wouldn't hold loyalty for anything other than the master, wouldn't even enjoy the puerile silliness of patterned pajamas.

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."

All wound up, he was in no mood to be placated by his ever-gentle brother; he jerked his hands free, waving him off as he, instead, took to running those fingers over his brother's again. His eyes were sharp, lividity making the natural ice all the colder as they sought out some flaw in the design. He didn't care their purpose; whether it was to aid or hamper, he wanted these off. This... thing had no place on either of them.

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.

Cain didn't give up, reaching up to take Abel's hands again where they were now tugging on his own collar once more. Squeezing cool fingers inside of his tightly, he fixed his eyes on Abel's with a firm intensity that demanded he listen.

"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."

Mmnnph...

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?"

Cain disliked it when Abel used his title, though he knew it was only being done because he had irked his younger brother in playing on his weaknesses expertly. He may have felt a little guilty for that, had it not been for the fact that letting Abel run rampant would have done far more damage.

"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."

Abusing alcohol in this fashion seemed a shame, but he knew its wisdom. It was mostly his good friend Jack; whichever one of the laboratory simulation team had set this up had gotten it down to the very last particular detail to his preferences. What a waste.

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.

The subtle nuances of detail hadn't been lost on Cain either; they could have easily supplied him with 'cutesy' pajamas of any pattern, yet they had picked the two that he actually owned.

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."

"Fuck that," he murmurs, clearly ignoring his brother's attempts at logic -- impatience fueled by his irritation. He has no desire to stick around here and aimlessly twiddle his thumbs until their kindly benefactors saw fit to provide them with some kind of hint as to their intentions. Abel, instead, takes to heading straight for the door -- and out of it, poking his head into the hallway with due caution beforehand to ascertain if there were any adversaries or obstacles to be mindful of.

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."

"Hey--!"

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.

Abel fixes his brother with an incredibly impatient and dull stare, not bothering to so much as hide the irritation behind it. Did Cain really think he cared if he was killed? Whether he was murdered or a murderer here had no bearing on him, in reality -- and both would result in the end of this bullshit, so he was just fine with either.

"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."

"..."

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?"

Did Cain think he was joking? Had he found something to rope him with, he wasn't above tying it to his brother and dragging him along by a leash.

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.

[[Continued here (http://towerofanimus.livejournal.com/41773.html).]]

The problem with living in your head as much as JD did is that differentiating between reality and fantasy is a little fuzzy. Like Cain, he'd experienced the unsettling event of waking up and being unable to move. After that? He'd found the room he woke in completely unfamiliar and he was not alone.

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.

Cain hadn't realised there was anyone in the other beds, a massive oversight on his part, and the voice took him by surprise just as he was about to leave the room after Abel, who was already out of sight.

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?

He seemed adorably taken-aback by this.

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...

Cain held up his hands against the onslaught, silently asking the other man to slow down and take it easy. He had never seen an AI express such range of emotion and vocabulary before, but the nonsense he was spouting must mean that it was glitching somehow.

"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."

JD narrowed his eyes a bit, not out of anger certainly, just understanding. He's certainly been told to slooooooow down more than once in his life. He didn't know why-- Then again sometimes JD didn't even listen to what he said half of the time. Cain is lucky the man didn't space out considering the mental duress he's going through right now.

"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.

This is, quite literally, the oddest program that Cain had ever come across. He had met some corrupted ones before, but none had ever managed to form themselves such a... unique... personality.

"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?"

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eyes wide open [closed to dorm 2-14]

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