psychoshenanigans | GRATIA // PSL

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GRATIA // PSL

So, here's what Irahl knows.

He's alone in a dark, cold cave. He has most, if not all, of his gear. No one is guarding his location. As he heads away from the spot where he came to consciousness, no one tries to stop him, and no one gets in his way. The few people he finds down there seem human, and not about to approach the nearly-seven-foot man that comes stalking out of the lower tunnels. Honestly, everyone here seems a surprised and a little astonished about his... Entire scene.

There is a way up. It's a maze of twisting corridors and confusing passageways, half of which feel too small for him. It's bigger and bigger groups of people, some of which scatter like schools of fish, and some of which have to be pushed through to get anywhere. It's climbing up into streets lit with dingy lights, graffiti-covered hallways, warehouses, weird holes in stone walls that may or may not be windows. It's alarm bells, it's people yelling at each other down the street. It's just an absurd number of stairs. A couple of people make an attempt to stop him somewhere, and it goes poorly for them.

Elsewhere, events are being set in motion where Irahl cannot see. But he's on his way out.

Eventually, more people try to stop him. At the end of another long stretch of Underground city, a group of official-looking folks are putting a real effort into blocking off the obvious exit, and some of them have weapons.

Down a side alley, into another tunnel, and then the space opens up into a... Plaza, of some sort? The floor is made of stone. The buildings surrounding it are made of stone and are hard to distinguish from one another. At at least the ceiling (also made of stone) is a lot higher than before. Cavernous. There's some kind of sculpture in the middle of it, some impressive feat of geometric stonework that gives the illusion of defying gravity despite weighing literal tons.

This is where someone finally catches him. Sounds have been echoing unhelpfully down every passageway, making it hard to tell if people are coming or going - but this series of quick footsteps comes from an upward direction before someone hits the ground about five feet in front of Irahl.

His clothes are different. His hair is better-kept. Maybe if the situation wasn't quite so tense, there'd be time to see the ways in which his face is different, the way his eyes don't have quite as vicious and sharp a gleam as they used to. But whatever Irahl can take in of him, there is Robin, having hopped down from a rooftop to put himself between him and the exit again.

"...Holy shit."

Kind of weird that he looks absolutely shocked to see the person in front of him, though.

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The joke gets the tiniest of laughs, the bare minimum needed to acknowledge that it happened and that Jandru almost found it humorous, before they follow it up with an agreement.

"Yes, exactly. And if you like grey, I do have some good news..."

They open their file and hold up a couple of pieces of paper for him to see--fashion sketches of some outfits that look in many ways similar to his current gear, in a several different shades of grey. Jandru looks excited about this, and it's a little hard to tell if it's genuine or just them being performative for whoever might be able to hear them outside.

"If I had to guess, I'd imagine you're not big into fashion, but I wanted to catch any immediate rejections before we send them to our tailor for mock-ups."

Edited 2024-10-16 01:33 (UTC)

If Jandru is in fact genuinely excited about this, then they'll be pleased to see that they have his immediate attention, as he sits up and leans forward to look. However, they might be less pleased to see that he is so interested that he reaches out to take the whole packet.

He isn't a complete animal about it, though. After stuffing another sausage into his mouth to chew on thoughtfully while he looks over the drawings, he sets the last few aside (safely on their napkin) on the seat next to him, brushes his gloved hands off on his pants, and then reaches out.

Once he can closely inspect the mock-ups there in his hands, his eyes tick from one detail to the next, seemingly meticulous in his analysis. It doesn't take long before the notes start.

"--This style of cloak won't work. Need to be able to take it off fast... and I don't do headgear. Hood is okay if it's big enough."

Irahl's interest is surprising to them; they would have bet money that he doesn't care as long as it's functional. Though, come to think of it, he has a very thorough understanding of his gear, so it makes sense that it would extend to everything else he wears...

The sausage situation continues to loose him points, however. Jandru isn't sure how to write this upsetting display up in their report, but they commit to finding a way then and there.

"Ah...! Okay, no headgear..." They say, forcing themselves back on track. They start jotting things down on a notepad next to them.

It turns out that Irahl has quite a few notes, actually. Generally speaking, he has comments about certain features and fits that either need to be altered or simply won't work at all. Compared to the typical priorities of snipers, he has more concerns about being able to move around well, not having dangling things that can get caught, and wearing things that will work well with his armor. The matters of temperature control, comfort, and appearance are far secondary.

However, there is a lull after he seemingly delivers the last of his notes, where he continues to look at the last few sketches for an extra moment... before he states his actual final thought.

"--And not that one."

There is no qualifier tacked on. He just doesn't like it.

Jandru takes dutiful notes as always, capturing every detail to the best of their ability. They're starting to get a pretty good idea of the man's preferences. This will save them a lot of time in the long run.

But then Irahl finds that sketch... And Jandru giggles.

"Really? Not interested?"

They shake their head--of course he's not interested in the one where Jandru's instructions to the artists had been to 'go wild' with it--and holds their hand out to take the pile of papers back from him.

"It's fine, just wanted to make sure you're paying attention."

See, it's things like this that are only going to encourage Irahl to continue messing with Jandru whenever he can. It's also confirmation to him that when dealing with Seth and his group, literally anything can end up being some sort of test.

With both of these things in mind, he sits back with a small, amused huff and picks up his little pile of sausages again, unrepentantly returning to his breakfast.

"Funny."

He had better finish those breakfast sausages soon, and not just because the likelihood of Jandru somehow putting a stop to them grows with each passing moment. Their carriage had rolled through a number of greenhouse-like tunnels in a fairly straight line, slowing here and there for pedestrians, but the ride seems to come to a definite stop at another one of those exterior-facing platforms.

"I kind of liked it. Maybe I'll get a belt-cape commissioned myself..."

More jokes, probably, from Jandru. But they've arrived at their destination, so they work to gather up their papers and their coffee cup and lead them back out onto the platform. It's definitely hot out here, the sun already high in the sky--but it doesn't have quite the same intensity as it did when Irahl and Vincent had arrived in the afternoon the day before.

"Do you get motion sick?" Jandru asks, for reasons that might quickly become apparent. Parked along the edge of this platform are about a dozen bare-frame dune buggies, which is apparently the vehicle they'll be swapping over to.

Yes, the rest of his breakfast disappears quickly when all signs point to them stopping soon. Even the napkin ceases to be an obstacle when it's crumpled up and left behind on the seat as he follows Jandru out onto the platform.

Even though dust and sunlight aren't yet the immediate threat that he's sure they soon will be, he pauses to put on his mask and visor.

"Not yet," he answers. He's pretty sure he's been through wild enough rides on his bike to know, but he doesn't want to make any promises just in case he turns out to be wrong.

Jandru pretends they didn't notice the napkin. They're so close to being able to escape that greasy reality. The driver can deal with it when they're gone and then they'll never have to think about it again.

They lead Irahl over to one of the vehicles and, perhaps surprisingly, they climb directly into the driver's seat. Irahl is left to figure himself out for a moment as Jandru situates themselves, adjusts the chair, and starts putting their hair into a ponytail.

"Do they have rigs like this where you're from?" They ask, the scarred-up side of their face on full display. They look like they got mauled by an animal, probably many years ago.

Irahl is a little surprised when Jandru not only continues to be part of the proceedings, (he'd assumed they would be handing him off to someone else when the desert seemed to be the next destination,) but also fully climbs into the driver's seat. It's a pleasant surprise.

As they're getting situated, Irahl does take a moment to sort himself out, which mostly involves reaching in to try and find whatever seat control they seem to be messing with so that he can do the same. Working from experience, he's pretty sure that seat is going to need to be cranked all the way back before he even attempts to get in.

"If you mean wheeled vehicles, then yes. But we don't have a desert. Would be bad news to drive around in something this open."

Once he's sure that himself, his cloak, and all his gear will fit, he finally climbs in as well.

These vehicles are pretty spacious, lots of room for bulky gear bags and several soldiers to pile in... But it still wasn't designed for someone seven feet tall. The seat will definitely need to go all the way back.

But he has a moment to make those adjustments. Jandru's busy gearing up, tying on their own face mask and pulling a pair of goggles out of their bag.

"That's funny," they comment, "The closed rigs around here tend to wear down too fast. The sand gets into everything. Oh--! Speaking of that..."

They reach into their bag, pulling out one more thing--it looks like a tight roll of some sort of resistant fabric, about the size of an apple. They hand it over to Irahl once he's in the car.

"This is for you. You may not need it once we're there, but I'd recommend keeping your rifle covered for the ride."

It's essentially a giant drawstring bag. It even fits--even if it's a little on the big side. They probably had to use something normally meant for a vehicle-mounted gun or something.

Edited 2024-10-17 02:24 (UTC)

Irahl frowns a little behind his mask, but it's mostly over the fact that he hadn't thought about the sand factor beforehand, as well as that his normal method of dismantling his rifle and putting it in its bag for protection wouldn't really be an option here, for a couple of reasons.

So, though he doesn't love letting anything come in contact with his rifle that he hasn't vetted ahead of time, he accepts the cover and works on carefully fitting it onto his weapon. He takes extra time to make sure that it's not catching or pulling anywhere, and generally messes with it until his psyche is soothed enough to move on.

Now he's ready for the ride.

They'll wait patiently for Irahl to finish. It's more important that they keep his equipment in good, working order than it is that they get out there on time. Plus, it gives them a moment to sip more of their rapidly-melting iced coffee.

When their passenger seems settled, they turn on the engine, put it in gear, and roll them out to an open elevator platform to be slowly lowered down hundreds of feet towards the sand. For all of Skeleton City's rickety, dangerous platforms and questionable contraptions, this one feels about as smooth and secure as you could ask for out here.

"Maybe if you do well today," Jandru muses, "I'll let you drive on the way back."

There is a considerable amount of relief when Irahl both sees how they're going to get down to the desert floor and finds that this method is worlds more stable and secure than anything he'd seen in Vincent's neck of the woods.

Then Jandru interrupts his idle estimations about how high up they must be and how long it would take to hit the ground if they fell, and he can't help but give a short chuckle.

"So, if you don't, I'll assume it's a bad grade."

"That's not what I said," they correct him, smiling wryly, "I said maybe."

What is this, friendly banter? Jandru seems to be taking things pretty casually today, at least compared to the previous day's breakneck pace. Maybe it's because no one can see them clearly while they're being lowered slowly along the outside of the city, and they've fully dropped that persona of theirs... Or maybe it's the lack of sleep wearing them down, or maybe this is all part of another test. Hard to say.

As soon as their platform touches sand and the safety gates are lowered, Jandru sends them speeding off into the desert, leaving a sizable dust cloud in their wake. Soon the motion sickness comment will make sense--as the landscape of the desert means a lot of ups and downs over the dunes when they aren't really small enough to weave around instead.

Luckily, some part of Irahl is built to fly, so the drive is disorienting but motion sickness never quite takes hold. And it's not exactly the same sort of rush he gets from tooling around on his bike, but it still scratches that itch a little.

He has been too cooped up lately, hasn't been able to wander or ride like he's used to, so he soaks up the feeling of freedom as they ride, ignoring the fact that he is starting to feel a little dizzy.

At the very least, it distracts from how the strange, flat horizon and overabundance of empty space in every direction freaks him out.

It's very empty out here. Not a real tree for miles, not here. The shifting sands make it hard for anything other than a lucky tumbleweed to survive out here.

The sand also makes it difficult to set up permanent training grounds, which is why some ingenious people decided to master the art of temporary, mobile training grounds instead. As they finally crest a particularly mountain-like dune, a huge, stage-like construction finally comes into view. It's a makeshift arena with at least two dozen vehicles parked nearby, cranes and steamrollers and many, many more trucks and buggies piled high with crates and containers.

They must have dragged all this rigging and equipment out here at who-knows-how-early in the morning, just so that some potential new recruits can shoot stuff and run around somewhere other than their delicate glass city. Whether it's impressive or kind of insane is up for debate.

Jandru drives up and parks them at the end of this line of vehicles. From here, Irahl can see some twenty people milling around "on stage", dressed in similar iterations of military garb, looking anywhere from overconfident to anxious while they wait for their exams to start. There are a few technicians moving around, checking on the complex setup and counting pieces of equipment. Seth is visible to one side, next to some bleachers set in the sand, speaking with Nikaro about something on a clipboard they're holding.

The whole thing has a very busy, industrious energy. Jandru lifts their goggles and finally pulls down their mask to look at Irahl.

"I understand that Master Dredge has extended an offer for you to participate in this evaluation for... Fun?" They cannot help but sound a little unsure about that last word. It was an odd point in the morning's itinerary. "If you aren't interested, you'll be observing with me up in the stands."

The whole setup does indeed strike him as both impressive and overdramatic. Maybe futile, or wasteful. Half of him loves what he sees and half of him hates it--which is a pretty standard reaction for him when it comes to most demonstrations of civilization.

In either case, he's eager to get in there. "I'm a new recruit, aren't I?"

Just how starkly he stands out truly becomes clear when he climbs out of the vehicle, standing there without the benefit of a huge glass city as a backdrop. Here, he's just a giant man looming around in dark and shapeless layers, pretty much lacking sun-warmed colors anywhere, in stark contrast to the desert and everything else around him.

He picks up his gear and weapon as if this whole thing is familiar, though. Just another day at work, and not a vitally important day packed with new faces and experiences that he's secretly anxious about.

"Besides, I'm a good role model." Sardonic quips do help.

Jandru sighs quietly at the remark. They were kind of hoping he'd have no interest, so that this silly idea of Seth's wouldn't have to play out.

"All right. Stairs are to your right, there." They point said stairs out before beginning to gather up their own belongings and putting them back in their bag, "Just head in and wait for instructions. And, please... Try not to scare anyone too badly."

Today's placement tests are a series of athletic and marksmanship challenges. While they are meant to test a high level of competency, compared to what Irahl was put through yesterday, these will be extremely easy and straightforward. There are a number of individuals on the ground directing the drills that have probably been brought in on the joke, because they treat Irahl as if he was any other potential new recruit.

The soldiers here are all experienced and take themselves seriously enough to apply for a unit that's notoriously strict and hard to get into... But there are still a wide range of responses to Irahl's presence here. Surprise, confusion, and definitely nerves. It isn't long before people start wondering if he's some sort of intentional plant; this does not at all stop them from being startled (and even personally threatened) by just how well Irahl's able to navigate this expert course.

Through this experience, he'll get to observe a few things about Seth and Nikaro. They remain on the edges of the activity, observing the tests, occasionally calling out orders to the people running around or shooting targets.

Seth is incredibly strict, but he's also extremely fair. Those who perform to expectation are rewarded by not having to do anything over again, and those who try to show off are quickly questioned until they either admit that they're being stupid or shut up and get serious. He commands the group with a looming intensity despite saying relatively little, and gives almost no indication whether he has ever been impressed with anything in his entire life. He doesn't even seem pleased with Irahl's performance, despite this joke being his idea--and he won't hesitate to give him an order if he thinks his first run wasn't good enough.

Nikaro, on the other hand... Irahl starts to get a glimpse of what Vincent was talking about. They give a lovely speech at the beginning about effort and dedication, seeming for all the world like the friendlier of the two... Only to start messing with people as soon as the games begin. While Seth is keyed in to technique, Nikaro's watching for hotheads and preying on them mercilessly. Irahl is the perfect excuse to tease people who're falling behind, and watch as convictions begin to waver.

They command people to redo tests for no apparent reason. They have a whole group go back and start over because one guy stepped outside of a line. And when someone makes the mistake of getting angry with them, they shut them down with a warm smile and a cold-hearted suggestion that they head home early, if this test is too much for them.

Together, they and Seth are a ruthless team. The whole event only lasts about an hour, but most of the recruits are exhausted or rattled by the end of it.

This is a much more fun version of things that he has had to do in the past--scaring new recruits and artificially pushing the bar higher for everyone--and the fact that he has signed up for it willingly makes it even better.

Getting to see how the two at the top of this unit work together is extremely enlightening. Not only is he getting a good morning warmup workout, but he gets to learn how his superiors operate. His first teamwork-related challenge of the day is to mesh well with what they're trying to accomplish here.

It doesn't matter that the physical challenges are relatively easy. Especially now that he's getting to see Nikaro in action and view them through that lens that Vincent has given him, Irahl is taking every aspect of this seriously. This whole setup is a safe way for him to begin to get the hang of the dynamics at the top without the full force of scrutiny focused on him. So, he's not only doing his best at each challenge that he's pitted against, but also doing whatever he guesses will be the best compliment to what his two superiors are trying to accomplish here.

And hey, the more points that he earns early, the better, in case he needs to cash them in when the real challenge begins.

So, Irahl stays focused on the task at hand with no obvious showing off, and acts as constant low-level psychic pressure on the others by simply existing. And when any of the more brash or charismatically-driven try to feel him out by striking up a conversation, he is very happy to have an excuse to act without censoring his nature... which is to casually and completely ignore them.

Irahl contributes to crushing many people's dreams today; pleased with the mental and emotional carnage wrought today, Nikaro eventually dismisses the group and informs them that the acceptance notice will be posted next week.

As the exhausted and somewhat-intimidated recruits pick up their equipment and begin shuffling back to their buggies, Jandru climbs down out of the stands and heads over to rejoin Irahl. Seth and Nikaro are speaking a ways off, likely sharing their initial thoughts on who may have looked promising out of the batch.

"Question for you," Jandru asks, looking completely serious, "Have you ever played paintball?"

Irahl is stretching out his shoulders and glancing around for a bit of shade to take a break in when Jandru walks up. The way his brow knits in wary confusion says everything that they need to know: he has never heard of paintball and is immediately wondering if this is some sort of trick question. So, at the very least, their efforts over the last couple of days has succeeded in keeping him on his toes and suspicious of hidden tests at any given moment.

Eventually, he properly answers with a small shake of his head.

They would be lying if they said they weren't just a little bit pleased to see that Irahl on his guard about this, even if it's just because he's never heard of the sport or something. They haven't been doing their job right if he isn't at least a little worried that everything is some kind of test.

But they clap their hands together briskly and smile in response.

"That's fine. It's very simple. Two teams try to shoot each other, but with paint capsules instead of bullets."

And then they gesture for Irahl to follow them back to their own vehicle, speaking over their shoulder as they walk.

"We're going to drive out to a ruin that was uncovered this week. There you'll meet two more members of the special unit and participate in some team training activities. One of which is paintball."

Irahl follows and listens dutifully, at least put at ease enough to act as if this was any assignment and not just lead with suspicion.

"Custom weapons, I'm assuming?"

As much as he would love to use his own weapons to hunt his prospective teammates, he's not putting paint-anything in them.

"Oh, yes," they quickly reassure him, "They probably won't be as good as your personal equipment, but...! You won't have to worry about gumming them up with paint."

Back at the vehicle, they hover around the driver's door for a while, putting their mask back on and subtly watching to make sure the rest of the recruits are already gone or in the process of leaving.

"And actually, what we have is essentially top of the line recreational weaponry--it's just nonlethal. Mostly. I'm sure we've got a sniper rifle in reserve."

When they're sure that the last group is on their way out, they climb back in to the buggy and get them on the 'road' again.

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