come_sailaway | END GAME: THE COUNTDOWN STARTS

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END GAME: THE COUNTDOWN STARTS

[the prisoners wake up on cold, hard floors.

the lights are bright, glaring, a sterile cell with sterile bars facing a sterile hall. the prisoners with you, across from you, and no one else. no rocking of a ship in waves, nothing. just the prisoner and their prison.

time passes, one assumes. the rhythmic click of Friday’s heels down the hall. it’s almost like the ticking of a clock.]

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"There's no question that we need to get out of here. The question is how we get out of here. Now tell me, what can you see from your cell?"

He's not processing that this is the pink rhino that turned him into a bloody skid mark during the melee.

She draws her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Another awful shudder zips through her as she instinctively tries to change shape, only to have her component parts refuse to be rearranged.

Okay. If -- if Ballister were here, he'd probably say something like that, too. Stay calm; think; take a look around. Nimona's gotta hope he wouldn't just sit in the cell and wait for death like he did the first time. He'd figure it out, if only for Nimona's sake.

Hopefully.

"You," she mumbles. "Um... oh, I think that's Murder Guy across from me." (Someone, once upon a time, glimpsed Nepeta's shipping chart with Max Maximum right at the center and completely misinterpreted it.) "Gwen and Darcy over there. That's it."

"'Murder Guy?' No matter. I'm not sure how Darcy's been affected by whatever's occurred, but see if you can get her attention. I know she has some connection to the dead, so for all I know she might have a different sense of what's going on."

Nimona draws in a deep breath and nods. Scooting to the opposite side of the bars, she sticks a bruised hand through and tries to flag Darcy down.

"Hey. Hey! Darcy!" Her voice isn't exactly sotto voce, but it's gone hoarse from all the screaming. "Can you, uh..." She wiggles her fingers around, like she's approximating a ghost. "Sense anything dead stuff? I don't know, the fancy guy with the fangs a couple cells down's asking."

"Judging by the fact that all of the rest of my Manifestations don't work, I don't think I could even if there was. I'm basically a corpse with extra steps right now."

...

"Who- you've got to give me more than that, we have so many fancy dudes on this ship."

In spite of herself, Nimona lets out a small, tired snort of amusement. Darcy's not wrong; for real, why are there so many fancy people here.

Back to Maxwell: "Nope, nothin'. What's your name?"

"Maxwell. Maxwell Carter. Darcy and I met over a chess game."

"Oh- Maxwell, that fancy bitch. Since when does he have-" absolutely not important right now.

"My roommate had all of her powers switched off too. I think we can assume it's a complete magic black-out."

"Since when does he have what?" Wilson yells from cell 124, having been able to hear Darcy's side of the conversation and Darcy's side only, picking out the name of his behated nemesis like the M&Ms out of a cup of trail mix.

"Fangs," Darcy can't even really be mad at Wilson for listening in because they're all basically just gonna have to do that to get any sort of conversation done.

"Do you want me to pass on a message?"

"Those aren't new," Wilson says without elaboration, and then, "Tell him I'm glad he's not dead. I don't have anything more useful to say and I'm saving the mushy stuff for when it's not getting passed along by teenagers and ants."

This is the worst way and time to find out they're dating.

"HEY- NIMONA- TELL WAXWELL THAT HIS BOYFRIEND SAYS HE'S GLAD HE ISN'T DEAD AND ALSO HE'S LEAVING MUSHY SHIT FOR LATER."

"Waxwell, your boyfriend says he's glad you're not dead and he loves you sooooo much and wants to kiss you on the mouth, like, seventy-five times."

...looks like someone's calmed down enough to rejoin the I ♥ BEING ANNOYING club.

"He absolutely did not say that! And if he did, tell him that the next time we do kiss I'm going to bite that lower lip of his much harder than he'd like!"

Edited 2024-02-14 14:46 (UTC)

Oh, no, Nimona played herself.

"Ew," she says, succinct, and absolutely refuses to pass that along to Wilson. Time for a topic change! "So who can you see? Anyone?"

"There's a curly-haired blond woman to your right who seems very intent on threatening my life and limbs. Beside her cell, I can see Dimitri and a child. You said the 'Murder Man' is next to me?"

Curly-haired blond woman who likes threatening people... that might be Fever. Nimona only really met her once, but she left an impression. And --

"Dimitri?" She perks up slightly; aside from Gwen, that's the first proof of life of any of her friends. "Tell him Nimona says hi? And yeah, Murder Guy's on your..." She squints, holds out her own arms, mentally rotates the scene in her head. "On your right. He's killed like everybody on the ship at least once."

"DIMITRI-" Darcy suddenly scrambles for the bars again, pressing against them to angle theirself in Nimona's direction-

"Can you see him?? Is he okay??"

"Dedue's on the other side of you," Wilson reports; he knows those two go together. "Two cells down."

Edited (I didn't misremember the cabin chart you misremembered the cabin chart) 2024-02-14 23:38 (UTC)

Dedue and Dimitri, both close. That's good- that's really good news, Darcy looks visibly relieved.

"Thanks, Wilson," and then they add-

"Sorry for being a dick about Maxwell and all, just. Stressed."

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takethatnature - 2024-02-15 00:12 (UTC) - Expand

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saltwaterlungs - 2024-02-15 00:16 (UTC) - Expand

To Darcy, "I can't see him, Maxwell can -- "

And to Maxwell, "Hey, Max, tell Dimitri Darcy's asking if he's okay too? -- And Dedue's two cells down from Darcy and Gwen," she adds as the game of telephone continues.

"Of course." He turns to look at another cell across the hall, presumably Dimitri, and he relays the message.

"Thanks Darcy," Wilson says, flat except for the strainedness of his tone.

"Hey, Nimona mangled it worse. Also you're welcome."

"Oh no," he groans. See, this is why he didn't want the teenagers to pass along something sentimental.

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