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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It would have to be an emergency of utmost importance for Irahl to ever raise his voice, so he doesn't answer Jandru as they prep him on the new faces he'll soon be introduced to, but he's confident that they know him well enough by now to not expect a response anyway.

He is quietly grateful for the heads-up. Any forewarning is a blessing after the chain of surprises that yesterday was.

So, he has things to think about and opinions to form on the rest of the drive to their destination. For instance, he's interested to know what 'sort of' means in this case.

Jandru doesn't really need an answer, so the lack of response is both expected and perfectly fine by them. As long as Irahl is briefed, they did their job.

Yesterday, the testing benefited from some mysteries. They hadn't exactly planned on springing Nikaro on him without warning, but it worked out and gave them a good look at how Irahl might act around the unexpected threat of a stranger. Today, however, they've already ruled out almost all hope of getting this guy into a social position. If he joins the team, he'll be working with only the team, and keeping them a mystery doesn't really get them any data they didn't already have.

They drive for another twenty minutes or so before they have to slow down; there have been some visible stones sticking up out of the sand, here and there, but now there are enough stony outcroppings and ruined chunks of buildings sticking out of the dunes that continuing to drive quickly seems needlessly dangerous. They curve around and between strange skeletal stones until they eventually dip down into a basin filled with the dilapidated remains of a city.

Surreally, the sand wasn't blown out of this area evenly--the east-facing sides of buildings seem to be buried in sand up to about the second or third floor, while the west-facing sides of most buildings are only buried up to somewhere after the first floor. Anything delicate was eaten away by time many years ago, but the shell and core of these structures remain strangely intact, despite how they should have been sanded to pebbles by now. Even some doors and window shutters are still visible, even if they're half-buried.

Jandru drives slowly into the ghost town, continuing until they spot a smaller vehicle parked beside a squat, brick building. On the roof of that building (which is only about three feet off the ground, in some places) are two figures that wave and call out to them as they approach.

"Good morning Jandru!" Says the larger of the two in an effeminate voice. And she is large. Not quite as tall as Irahl and not quite as broad as either of the twins, but she's still giving them all a run for their money. Dark-skinned, shaved head, wearing what looks like nearly a full suit of tactical armor despite the intense heat. She has deep, dramatic scars on one side of her head and face, visible even from afar--intentionally-carved concentric circles and perpendicular lines. They're smiling brightly and waving excitedly.

"Hey," says the smaller of the two at the same time. He's got black hair shaved close on the sides, tan skin, a slouched posture. He's far less conspicuous than his friend, given that he's wearing casual clothing and that his face seems to be mostly intact. But there are a few details that might stand out to Irahl, who knows what to look for--namely the fact that he's wearing gloves, and that his eyes are obscured by a pair of round-framed, thin-rimmed sunglasses.

"Good morning," Jandru calls back to them, smiling--though they're mostly focused on pulling in to park their vehicle right next to their teammates and less on starting a conversation.

"Is this the new recruit?" Asks the woman, radiating cheer, before being elbowed pretty aggressively in the ribs by the man next to her. He mumbles something to her, she looks surprised, then corrects herself, "Oh, sorry! Of course it is."

This isn't what the man had been trying to say, which is obvious from the way he tips his face down into his palm in disappointment.

Once they're parked, Irahl wastes no time in stepping out and picking up his gear, though he's still letting Jandru lead. For better or worse, he feels no social obligation to greet or otherwise acknowledge his prospective teammates.

In addition to the mental and personality reasons for his reticence, he's also used to the mere sight of him saying a lot. Whether he likes it or not, the fact that he's huge, absurdly armed, and hidden behind layers of cloak and armor and visor is his initial introduction, so he doesn't fight it.

He gathers his things, slings his rifle onto his shoulder, and follows Jandru while pretending not to be aware of the fact that the newest round of scrutiny starts now.

Strangely, Jandru doesn't hurry to lead Irahl to the next test. They continue taking things out of the car, unloading a couple of boxes from the trunk space in the back. While they do this, the woman picks up a massive tower shield, slings it on her back, and hops down off the roof to land ankle-deep in the highest nearby slope of sand. Her friend slinks along behind her, but looks considerably more shifty about it.

With two prospective future teammates incoming, Jandru shoves their driving goggles back in their bag and looks up at Irahl with a pleasant smile.

"I need to go change. I'll let you three introduce yourselves."

And not that Irahl is terribly vocal at the best of times, but Jandru heads off to go find somewhere in one of these nearby houses to change in before he has a chance to raise a complaint. As they disappear, the man shakes his head dourly as he trails behind his larger friend.

"We don't have to talk--" He suggests, and it quickly becomes clear that the suggestion was as much for his coworker as it was for Irahl as she nearly cuts off the end of his sentence with her own introduction. She sticks her hand out to initiate a handshake with absolutely zero trace of hesitation.

"Nice to meet you! My name is Rohen. I was raised in the Cult of the Scorching Sun, which is why my face is covered in scars. I'm doing much better now, though. What's your name?"

The scarring cuts through part of their mouth and their nose. It has not at all hampered their ability to smile from ear to ear.

Irahl hardly has time to think nasty things at Jandru or appreciate the smaller man's attempt to pump the brakes on this interaction, before Irahl is hit with the full force of it.

Scorching Sun indeed. Irahl squints behind his visor as if he hadn't had the light-filtering function engaged.

He has one arm properly carrying his bag of gear, while the other hand is looped on the strap of the rifle hanging on his shoulder. He could detach it from its perch. It isn't actually doing anything load-bearing. But, as if he couldn't possibly move it from where it's resting, he raises a couple of fingers in greeting. Her hand gets ignored, but this is still Irahl being as close to friendly as is going to happen. This is him being generous.

"Irahl."

And that's it.

At the very least, for as much as this person seems to be a social barrage, they also don't seem terribly offended when he doesn't have an enthusiastic response. In fact, they drop their hand, looking as though they've just realized something.

"Oh, not a handshake person. That's right." They rub the back of their neck, looking a little embarrassed, "But thank you, Irahl! Have you been in the city for very long?"

This question barely has time to sit before their friend, presumably Finn, comes up behind her to grab both of her very broad shoulders and try to literally steer her away from directly in front of Irahl.

"Hey, hey, c'mon," He ushers her, "Remember what we said about personal space?"

"Oh, that it's..." Rohen starts, before laughing. "Right! Yes, thank you..!"

Finn mutters something else about letting the guy settle in for a minute. As he turns to lead his friend maybe ten feet back to a point where Irahl could theoretically ignore them, a glimpse of their eyes are momentarily visible behind their glasses. Their irises are such a bright green that they seem to be glowing. Not a natural human shade at all.

Irahl doesn't know whether it makes him a little unsettled or relieved to catch what he thinks is a reference to being warned about his taciturn nature--even if it turns out that said warning had been limited to 'not a handshake guy'--but he is going to capitalize on the breathing room either way.

And as that breathing room is in the process of being given, he at least considers potentially trying not to be a complete hermit, maybe by drumming up something work-related to ask... but then he catches a glimpse of gleaming green.

That decides it for him. He does need a moment to himself to acclimate before he tries something insane like having a vestige of a conversation. He shouldn't be surprised by his new squadmate's eyes, as he had been fairly warned, but the kneejerk reaction hits him nonetheless. He has been so on-guard lately that the instinctual pang of adrenaline is bigger than it should be.

So, he hauls his stuff over to the wall of the building where there is even the thinnest scrap of shade. For at least a minute or two, he'll busy himself with an unnecessary gear-check before posting up there to wait for whatever happens next, whether that's Jandru returning, or someone taking another stab at talking to him.

The shade is indeed becoming thin around here. It must be getting close to high noon, as the sun is very high in the sky and the shadows are disappearing quickly under the direct overhead light. Heatwaves ripple off the sand in every direction.

While Irahl keeps to himself, his two teammates seem to be fine talking with each other instead of him; it's hard to hear exactly what they're saying, but it almost sounds like Finn is giving Rohen a refresher on approaching people, something that Rohen has a lot of questions about. The words, "It's about balance, you know...?" from Finn float across the space pretty audibly.

Thankfully, Jandru reappears just a few minutes later. Gone is all the office-ready attire--now they're wearing boots and more form-fitting, tactical clothing. Their hair is tied even more securely out of their face. They toss their bag into the front seat of their vehicle, frowning a little as they see Irahl and the rest not speaking.

"This doesn't look like introductions," Jandru says to the group.

"Nah, we got it," says Finn, "Got names and everything."

Jandru sighs a little, but thankfully they won't have a lot of time to get on everyone's case. The sound of an approaching vehicle grabs their attention. They turn to see Seth and Nikaro arriving, speeding just a little too fast through the sand-covered streets in their direction.

Irahl has never been more thankful for the fact that his physiology is different from that of entirely-mortal beings, because it is sweltering out here. Even during the worst of the sunbaked days in the ruins of home, there hadn't been this kind of heat.

He might not be susceptible to heat stroke in the same way a human would, but he's not exactly comfortable in all of the sun-absorbing layers he's wrapped in. The fact that he could not be farther from any sources of his elements is making him feel a little sick on top of it. It would be an understatement to say that he's looking forward to his new uniform.

And speaking of new uniform, he's rather surprised to see Jandru kitted out like the rest of them when they reappear. He had suspected that they do more than just handle administrative work around here, but it somehow hadn't occurred to him that they're this involved.

Even so, he certainly doesn't acknowledge their return, especially after that comment. He's more than happy to let Finn cover it. He stays right where he is, leaning against the wall, not straightening up and standing at the ready until the approaching vehicle gets quite close.

The speedy driving is Nikaro's fault; their vehicle slides to a stop in the sand, coming to rest a little closer to the other rigs than necessary. Jandru and Finn both have a grimace of people convinced they were about to see a car crash, but Rohen starts waving at the new arrivals unperturbed.

"Good morning!" She says. Nikaro returns the wave.

"Morning, Rohen," Nikaro greets her back, jumping out of the vehicle, "You look chipper this morning."

Seth says nothing, just gets out of the car in an incredibly dignified and serious way before looking around to make sure everyone is here.

"What's the plan?" Finn asks Nikaro, before Rohen can get too far into talking about her day or something.

"I figure we'll do a round or two of paintball to get all hot and sweaty, then break for lunch," Nikaro explains, hauling the trunk of their vehicle open, "And then we'll go see what we can see down at Falcon's Crest. Maybe get some real practice in. C'mon, gather round."

Jandru looks to Irahl to make sure he's coming, and invite him to come walk with them towards Nikaro if he isn't.

While Irahl might need some prodding and cornering to participate in social interaction, he seems to have no problem moving with the group when it comes to work-related matters. Sure, he still sticks to whatever counts as the edge of the pack, but nonetheless obediently follows along to the trunk of the vehicle.

He assumes what happens next is the doling out of this so-called 'paintball' gear, and he is eager to get a look at it. He isn't expecting anything meant for recreation to be of fantastic quality, but he feels as though he can start getting a feel for it by sight alone, so wants to get that process started as soon as possible.

Hilariously, there are three people in this party that try to hover near the "back" of the group, so the huddle winds up naturally consisting of Jandru and Rohen up front as the good students while Seth, Irahl, and Finn all keep a couple of feet back.

"So, paintball," explains Nikaro, "Since there's an even six of us today, we'll break into two teams. We want to give Irahl here an idea of whether or not he wants to put up with us assholes, so everyone stop pretending to be nice."

This gets a chuckle out of a few people, for a couple of different reasons. It also gets a small giggle from Rohen. Finn glances in Irahl's direction, but everyone else remains focused on Nikaro as they gesture at the contents of the trunk.

"Standard rules. If you're shot, you're out. Any paint splatter smaller than an inch wide doesn't count, direct hits only. And no headshots," they make sure to emphasize, "These things sting bad enough without a concussion, all right?"

"It was one time," Finn mutters under his breath.

"All right, grab what you want," Nikaro says, before stepping fully away from the trunk to let the good kids have first dibs of the treats inside.

There are an impressive number and variety of guns arranged in foam-lined trays all stacked one on top of the other. Aside from some bright stripes on each of their grips to keep them from being accidentally mixed up with the bullet-shooting kind of gun, they look for all intents and purposes like legitimate weapons. There are stacks and stacks of paint capsule boxes in a few different sizes, accessories for storing everything, a crate of apron-like covers to keep your clothes from getting completely ruined by paint...

And why, tucked off to the side there are even what look suspiciously like paint grenades. It turns out that paintball is a popular pastime here in the desert.

It's a brief and objectively uneventful couple of minutes, but there's secretly a lot going on in Irahl's head in those moments. He wouldn't be himself if he didn't try to prep and strategize from moment zero.

Firstly, he does take note of the joking-but-not-joking way that Nikaro calls him out and sets the tone moving forward, and even though the comment had been aimed at the rest of the group, it informs a couple decisions of his own as well.

Secondly, the list of rules are duly noted, but he also frowns to himself behind his mask. He has opinions. A couple more decisions are made.

And finally, there is the matter of the weapons. Irahl may have given up his rights to get first pick, but he's tall enough to get a preview over Jandru's shoulder. He starts plotting long before it's his turn to pick up weapons, as well as making sure to note what each of the others are choosing to carry and committing that list to memory--especially if someone else selects what looks like the best approximation to a long-range rifle before he can get to it.

No one said anything about only choosing one weapon, so when it's his turn, he picks up the best long-range option available to him, a quick-looking sidearm, and a grenade or two for good measure.

Irahl won't be the first person to take more than one weapon out of the back. Jandru goes right for a pistol with a laser sight, and picks up a couple of grenades as well. Rohen moves a few cases of guns out of the way before confidently picking up what looks an awful lot like a submachine gun, along with a very beefy-looking pistol as their sidearm. Finn scoots in to pick up some weapon that looks like... Some kind of semiautomatic crossbow? The box of ammo he scoops up is unusually long, which supports the crossbow theory.

The only long-range option seems to be a simple bolt-action rifle. As Irahl is walking up to take a turn, Nikaro leans in and snatches it up. They glance at Irahl and smirk ever-so-slightly once they've done it, because of course they know--but they also hold up a finger to signal for him to wait.

"I've got something better for you," they say, lifting up part of the floor of the trunk along a hinge. Revealed underneath is a much sleeker-looking rifle of the sniping variety. It's not as big as Irahl's real weapon, but perhaps this is understandable given that getting hit by a paintball the size of a breadstick could probably kill someone.

"Haven't really had a sniper in the group, so I had to spin this up a couple days ago," they explain, "I'll take feedback after class."

Now Irahl is free to take his gun, his side-arm, and his grenades. Seth and Nikaro finish up last, with the former casually shouldering a semiautomatic shotgun and the latter finishing their loadout with a smaller mid-range assault rifle.

"Okay, for teams..." Nikaro looks over everyone, "Let's put Jandru, Rohen, and Seth together. That'll leave myself, Finn, and Irahl on the other team. Any objections?"

"You just don't want to be across from Finn again," Jandru jokes, clearly teasing. Finn frowns, but Nikaro's pretty quick with an easy comeback.

"Hey, if I was trying to avoid getting hit in the head, I wouldn't have put Seth over on your side."

Seth says nothing (he has said nothing this entire time, content to let his second-in-command run the silly training game instead of him), but he does look almost-pleased by this.

Edited (so many pronouns, so little time) 2024-10-21 02:06 (UTC)

While whatever expression Irahl might have when Nikaro steals his prospective weapon is covered up by his mask, his eyebrows do visibly raise above his visor a little when a secret scoped rifle is revealed.

Yes, this will do. All is immediately forgiven.

With weapons secured, he immediately goes about disarming himself of his live firearms and swapping them for the paintball variety, then investigating the mechanics of them while teams are decided. Standing slightly off to the side as he does this, he doesn't seem to be paying much attention to the banter and the team rosters, but that is of course not the case.

He is paying very close attention to what is being said while giving away zero percent of what he thinks about any of it. It's the perfect introduction to how Irahl normally operates, even when he isn't plotting how best to hunt half of his own teammates.

"...But that doesn't sound like a complaint," Nikaro continues, as no one has anything to say against the group split, "So we're set. Jandru, will you time your team for fifteen?"

"Yes," they agree, taking out their pocket watch. Nikaro takes out a pocket watch of their own and checks the time.

"Everyone gets fifteen minutes to head off and strategize, and then it's game time. Happy hunting."

And just like that, the opposing team gathers together and start walking away from the starting point. Jandru and Rohen begin talking through some potential starting places while Seth strolls observantly behind, leaving vague footprints in the sand behind them.

Nikaro will gesture for both Finn and Irahl to follow them. Finn quickly finishes loading his bolt-gun, pushes his sunglasses further up his face, and goes to follow them.

"Okay, Finn," says Nikaro, "You got a map?"

"Yeah, of course..." Finn says, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handing it over to Nikaro. "It's a little rough, I didn't have a lot of time before Rohen showed up."

"Let's walk in case they circle back," the other suggests, starting to head in a direction as they unfold a basic, hand-drawn map of the surrounding ruins.

In situations like this, there is always the chance that Irahl will flounce off without a word and work alone. However, this isn't done with simple recklessness. It's his preferred way to work, but he only does so because he thoroughly understands the situation and knows his team well enough to predict their rolls and actions.

This is a different case. He's at least smart enough to know that heading off without coordination here will only cost him the game... plus there's that whole 'teamwork tryouts' thing.

So, after looming behind the pair for a few moments--like Seth is currently doing in the other group--Irahl suddenly starts using his words.

"The others know the layout of this area, or only you do?"

At this point, Irahl has made it pretty clear through multiple channels that teamwork isn't high on his list of priorities. So it is good for them to see that he can play nice with others when he must, even if he'd prefer to be acting solo.

"Jandru might," Finn answers, pushing his sunglasses up to rest higher on the bridge of his nose, "If they thought to pull a record from storage before they came here. Depends on how seriously they're taking it."

"Here," Nikaro tries to hand the map back to Irahl, in case he wants to get a decent look, "We should assume they came prepared. They're mobile and quiet, so it's in their best interest to know where they're going ahead of time. I don't trust that they aren't circling back to try and follow us right now."

Finn nods. That sounds like something Jandru would do.

"And Seth?" He asks.

"Depends," Nikaro frowns, "He's going to make himself a pain in the ass to take out. Most likely, he'll post up in a building and just sit there until he's really pressed to make a move. But if I'm wrong and he decides to move around early, we're in trouble. Guy could be anywhere."

Irahl dutifully takes the map when it's put in his direction, though he's more up in his own head as he looks it over. He absorbs the broad strokes of what he's looking at, but that's about it. He's too busy thinking, because a couple of important things have just been confirmed.

Ever since he'd seen Jandru gearing up to be a much more active part of this group, he'd been wondering how far their sneakiness and ability to be underestimated truly goes. With this now confirmed, some things are decided for him.

Given the fact that he could potentially be being watched right now, his entire being is itching to get moving, so he sums up his thoughts as quickly as he can.

"Jandru first." They'd just spent a full day learning how he operates, how he navigates his surroundings from as elevated of a position as he can get away with, and where his proverbial blind spots are. If there's anyone on the opposing team that he's worried about sneaking up and getting the drop on him, it's them. "Locating them should be a priority."

"Agreed," says Nikaro, unhesitant, "Otherwise they'll be trying to pick us off from the sidelines the entire time."

"I can work on that," Finn says, glancing between the both of them, "I'm the worst shot out of us anyway. Might as well lean on recon instead."

Nikaro nods; for all that the group was making jabs about this supposed headshot incident, they don't take the opportunity to poke fun at it now. They accept the suggestion and keep moving.

"Irahl, are you considering posting up?" Nikaro asks, gesturing both high and low to quietly ask if he's hoping to get a higher vantage point or not.

Considering the group he'd been most recently stuck with back home, it's a pleasant change to watch an opportunity for a joke go ignored. He certainly has his own moments of irreverent humor while no one else is joking around him, but not during times of urgency and organization. It's reassuring.

At Nikaro's question, Irahl hands the map back to them. "Not until Jandru is out. If they know the area, they'll probably head to the best perches to look for me."

It's a good note for anyone trying to locate or hunt them, and bad news for anyone hoping to hunker in one spot.

Nikaro takes the map back, giving it another glance-over while they think through everything they've heard so far. Where they start really isn't going to matter, and height might actually work to their disadvantage... But a plan is starting to form in their mind.

They spin around to properly face the both of them, walking backwards in the sand.

"So it's you two on Jandru. Finn, radio us if you see anybody, but don't engage unless you've got a guaranteed shot. I want you feeding us updates for as long as possible. I'll keep Rohen occupied from up above. Maybe someone will think I'm our sniper here."

"Rohen, yeah..." Finn nods, "Copy that. She's pretty easy to avoid, but she's also who I'd hide behind if things were getting dicey."

"Exactly," Nikaro smiles, looking for all the world like they're about to have a pleasant outing and not some kind of cat-and-mouse paintball chase, "Irahl, that all work for you?"

Edited 2024-10-21 19:42 (UTC)

Irahl nods, but the motion is a little lost as he focuses on his own tactical vest as he retrieves grenades to share. Handing those out to his new teammates is his real answer to the question.

"In case you need to flush anyone out. Or give them a surprise as your last, dying act."

And with the gift of that morbid little idea, Irahl has one final thought to share. This one is to Nikaro, but doubles for Finn in the event that he happens to get extraordinarily lucky.

"If you manage to eliminate the tank, take her shield."

The others might not be able to make much use of a shield the size of a barn door, but he can.

The grenades are a welcome gift, and seem to give Finn an idea. Before that can really take shape, Irahl shares his final idea. Their reactions could hardly be more different. Finn's eyebrows raise above the rims of their glasses in surprise. Nikaro just chuckles, a cruel glint in their eye.

"Uh..." ventures Finn, "Yeah, sure. And here--"

He dispenses a handful of soft-tipped bolts from the rectangular case at his side and holds them up to Irahl.

"These have proximity mines in the tip. It's not a lot of paint, but if you peel the cover off the end here, you can stick them to things. Just push this button and they'll be active after a ten-second delay."

It's probably being offered up as a trade for the grenade, but it could be a nice toy to have available all the same.

Oh, yes. This is a good trade. Irahl doesn't give any thanks out loud, so his grateful acceptance of the darts will have to be enough. He's already getting ideas on what to do with these.

And with that, he is reaching the limits of his ability to stand around and talk about strategy. He hovers there a few extra moments, clearly ready to break off from the trio and probably double-back the way they came to start looking for Jandru, but wordlessly waits to see if there are any final notes. The fact that he doesn't just abruptly head out is a testament to how good of a teammate he's trying to be. He's not known for giving his previous squad that sort of patience.

And if that's all, he'll maybe spare them a nod before detouring off into the nearest excuse for shade between buildings to begin his hunt.

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