MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

World of Light

Geralt of Rivia

The Maw- The Depths

Lvl 7 (79/70) -> Lvl 8 (81/70)

Word Count: 878 words

On the other side of the door lay a pantry. How quaint. A variety of spices and ingredients arrayed before the little Seekers, Geralt paid them little mind as the group made its way forward. It was the room beyond this pantry that got Geralt's proverbial goat. Those bags of meat did not bode well, and the smell was absolutely revolting. His nose scrunched, his mouth pulled itself into a tight line, and he gagged just a bit. This place was wrong, and anybody with a few working senses could tell that immediately. Unfortunately, it was bound to get worse once they found the butcher himself, and get worse it did.

The butcher was a hideous figure, and Geralt could not tell if his face was some sick, twisted flesh-mask, or the creature's actual visage, though a not-insignificant part of him hoped that it was the latter. Quickly, the team shuffled about to find places to hide lest they prematurely provoke their foe's wrath. It seemed they had two ways to go, one which lead them beyond a locked door in a different direction, and one which continued their current path forward. Their impromptu guide pointed at the hanging key, wordlessly directing them through the locked door.

Geralt figured that the local had the best knowledge of how to get through this place, not to mention the fact that the door was locked, indicating a reason to have done so in the first place. While he was musing on this, Sakura took the initiative to set a plan into action.

Unfortunately, not only did she not warn anybody of her plan, she had also took the first step of her plan prematurely, as some of the others were only just entering the last room when her chosen jar fell and shattered against the ground.

That set the group off immediately. Nadia was circling around to the butcher's backside, Mirage wondered if they could drop something onto the butcher's head from above to stun or harm him, the Koopa Krew were just arriving and opining themselves on Mirage's idea, and Geralt was steadfastly remaining in his hiding behind a table leg. He might be able to use his nail to hurt the butcher, but the creature's size meant that only a very carefully aimed strike would yield any actual result. He would need to be careful about when and how he struck.

Sakura's distraction, ultimately, proved to be the opposite of that, drawing the ire of another, more angry butcher, and revealing her hiding spot through great misfortune and the new arrival's cruelty towards his co-worker.

When Larry swept his arm across the counter, scattering bowls about the place, Geralt stepped out from his hiding spot and began aiming. The constant movement, the ducking and grabbing, however, left him unsure about using what little energy he had left on what could very well be an ineffectual attack. Instead, he turned to the Koopas, Junior in particular, and tossed the weapon such that the youngest of the group would easily be able to catch it with any coordination. "Throw it like a javelin, and it comes back if you whistle!" Between Junior's superior physical form, and the fact that he wasn't starving like Geralt was, gave some hope to that idea.

It may have come too late, however, as the butcher managed to grab Sakura, Rika, and Bella, taking off with them into the unlocked room before the sound of a heavy padlock being closed crushed any hopes of immediate rescue.

Time was of the essence.

Sakura was gone. So were Bella and Rika, the proof that her kindness could do genuine, tangible good.

Geralt was going to slaughter those whoresons. He felt a familiar feeling slowly fill him- anger. Cold, resolute anger. The same kind he felt when he saw Nilfgaardian soldiers abusing people, the same kind he felt when somebody he was trying to help tried to cheat him out of his hard-earned coin.

The same kind he felt when he found Whoreson Junior and his den of depravity, wondering if Ciri had suffered the same fate as the other girls.

Geralt moved, pointing up towards where the key was. "Blazermate! Grab that key and take the locked door, bring Bowser and the others with you! The rest of us who can fit through that vent, we go. See if we can buy some time while the others search for a way around. They might be big, but if you've ever tried to swat a particularly motivated fly, you'll remember how much a disadvantage size can be." Looking at Peach, he shook his head. "Might be risking our lives, but there's not much hope for them if we sit here and debate it so long those whoresons turn them into the next supper!" Part of him wasn't pleased with bossing so many people around, especially since they'd had problems come from people jumping into action without the others' say-so before, but he was not going to let those girls get hurt. Not if he could help it.

"Stay and talk it out if you want, but I'm going with Mirage." With that said, he climbed up into the vent and started crawling after Mirage.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Nick Waller

_{November 29th- ???}

---

Oh, Nick was gonna murder this guy. He actually even took a step towards Pondwater as he talked down to him, called him a slave of all things, claimed he was the master and that Nick was the self-aggrandizing prick here. Then he went on his little rant, calling on them to fight for their so-called freedom. "Listen here, you slim-"

Before he could continue, though, the freak slammed his gavel, and the real freak show began. The guards, faceless monsters that they were, began morphing into actual, literal monsters. Some were freaky twisty stork-looking things, while some transformed into some kind of wheel of legs with a lion head, and the captain became a god damn cerberus!

Nick was so angry, however, that this only gave him a moment's pause as he looked over the grotesque creatures in front of him. Fists clenched, body practically vibrating with energy, Nick managed to get out a "You're fucking on," before being interrupted again. This time, however, the interruption was a welcome surprise. While Pondwater was practically doubled over, the busty police girl from his dream that morning appeared and skewered one of the cerberus' heads. Honestly, if he wasn't so emotionally exhausted and letting a metaphysical monkey powered by holy fury pilot his body, Nick probably would have found that hot. As it was, however, he could only appreciate the opening she'd created while the others started moving. The guy who'd showed Nick his phone was running to the lunatic who'd already tried to fight these guys, and one of the girls was charging the creepy bird things while using her jacket as a makeshift shield and weapon alongside the bigger guy who was also charging for the exit.

Well, far be it from him to ruin a perfectly good escape plan. Nick followed after Barney and Mila, rolling his shoulder so that his arm came up a bit in his jacket to protect it from a jab of those things' beaks, and turned to watch the others. "Let's get the hell outta here!" he yelled to those that were yet to near the exit, some of the edge from earlier gone from his voice, but agitation still present. "Dunno about you guys, but I choose life!" Resorting to snarky, nihilistic humor in a literal fight for their lives was probably not the wisest move, but it was the least angry thing he could come up with, and it's not like he was angry with them. Well, maybe Vincent, not that he actually knew the guy's name, but the poor bastard had gotten punished more than enough for his earlier actions.

Once the others started moving past, Nick got going himself, not willing to rely on their miraculously-timed savior to cover them forever.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Nick Waller

_{November 29th- ???}

---

When Vincent made his run for it, hell broke loose. Not quite all hell, because the rest of it was obviously right in front of them, waiting to reveal itself, but some hell definitely broke loose. The guard captain was furious, enough to toss his baton at the escaping fugitive, even landing a glancing blow on the man.

Furious enough to punish the rest of the group. Now, some snarky folks might like to pipe up about collective punishment being a war crime, but this wasn't a war, they weren't combatants under the protections of the Geneva Conventions, and he was still pretty sure this was some sort of Alphabet Agency Private Prison they were being shuffled off to, one where their rights would be ignored at best, and specifically violated at worst. Nick kept his mouth shut, only letting out a gasp as he was grabbed, and his body violently protested against his mind.

He needed to get away. They would hurt him. He knew they would hurt him, they just said it, but worse, he knew they would hurt him. It would be that horrible summer night all those years ago all over again. He knew what happened in prisons, he read about Abu Ghraib, and he couldn't do it again.

The fight went out of him when it sunk in just how utterly fucked he was. He'd pulled a bit, but a jab to the back while he was inwardly collapsing, again, had stopped his involuntary attempt at escape. As he pulled his captors' arms down a bit, they tugged him back up, and one of the bastards smashed their baton against his calves, causing the muscles to cramp up from the impact. They pulled up just a bit, forcing Nick's knees to bend and his legs under him, before giving a shove that resulted in him stumbling a few steps before falling.

"Get up." One ordered darkly, and Nick nodded shakily, putting his hands in front of him and pushing, muscles burning and crying out against being used so soon after being hit. Gritting his teeth and baring it, like he did so many other things, Nick stumbled forward, used to managing through a cramp thanks to his usual runs.

The next few minutes were a bit of a blur as he pushed past the pain and the worry and the anxiety, only paying enough attention to his surroundings to not accidentally leave the group and get attacked again. The inside of the prison was, simply put, existentially terrifying. If these people didn't want them to see the light of day again, they wouldn't, simple as. Their very hope of continued existence relied on the whims of these madmen. He refused to even contemplate the impossible machinery siphoning money from the inmates, again harkening back to his psychotic break theory. They could be getting tortured with gas, injected with all sorts of horrible drugs, you name it, and Nick wouldn't know. He couldn't tell you what was real right now and what wasn't. He vaguely recognized one or two of his fellow students, and had probably seen the faculty members here and there, but nobody stuck out in his mind as real except the two he'd had the misfortune of bumping into in the cafeteria, and that was hardly a reassurance. Meeting two people you'd already met earlier while having a psychotic break? Excellent evidence of sanity, indeed!

Trying to focus on his immediate surroundings again, Nick furrowed his brow at the sight of the judge, who looked suspiciously like their University's President. What that meant, Nick couldn't guess. If anything, it lead credence to the nightmare mirror world isekai theory as much as it did the psychotic break, but more so the former, somehow. Pondwater likely wouldn't let the University Police brutalize his students for the crime of gathering at a dock, right?

No, he had to focus. Their judge was asking about them. Who they were, how the got here, what they were doing? Nick automatically prepared the simple response he knew by heart, give your name, invoke the 5th, shut the fuck up, but he was beat to the punch by some of the others readily volunteering evidence on their behalf.

Part of Nick wanted to scream, but part of him was impressed at their composure. Sure, the man who represented himself had a fool for an attorney, but they seemed to be handling the insanity better than he was if they could think of something other than a polite "fuck you".

To Nick's surprise, as well, it actually worked! This evil mirror Pondwater believed them, and even said that it made sense! Which made no sense! He went on about some social darwinist theory (was that the right phrase? Nick always got those propaganda talking points confused) about winners and losers and life being a zero-sum game of success (which was bullshit in its own right, it didn't have to be), before declaring that they were here to be tried, judged, and evaluated. There was just one problem.

"Wait, of our own free will? I certainly don't recall choosing to come here, or to submitting myself to this bullshit alpha male crap you've convinced yourself runs the world." Nick just couldn't keep his mouth shut, could he? The world did not carefully sort people into failures and successes, winners and losers to be granted boons and banes accordingly. It fucked everybody as much as it good get away with, people fucked each other as much as they could get away with, and whoever got away with the most ended up on top. "And I refuse to let somebody else's terms of failure or success define me! I haven't gotten this far by relying on the praise or the support of others! I fought tooth and fucking nail to get to where I am! So don't lecture me about worthiness!"

Nick's face was warped into a snarl, his breath coming evenly but heavy, and his eyes betrayed the maelstrom of emotion swirling in his gut, the anger at being lectured by another idiotic authority figure who'd moralized the world into some arbitrator of their idea of fairness having taken control. It was like being lectured by his father all over again, the hypocritical bastard!

World of Light

Geralt of Rivia

The Maw- The Depths

Lvl 7 (77/70) -> Lvl 8 (79/70)

Word Count: 945 words

As others piled into the elevator, Geralt moved into the corner, careful not to touch his raw, burned skin against the walls of the elevator. Even with Blazermate sweeping her healing beam over everybody, the phantom sensation and that gods-forsaken itching still buzzed around his head, taunting him as he looked himself over. He noticed the scarring that formed with a small frown. Against the unmarred flesh of this child form, they felt almost wrong. At the same time, he knew he wouldn't have given them much of a thought had he been in his regular body, as covered in scars as it was. They'd just be two more among dozens, hardly worth noting.

Just another thing about this that was wrong, he supposed.

Kamek's comments about the properties of Blazermate's healing were interesting, and if he weren't absolutely starving at the moment, he might have joined in on the theory-crafting, but all the Witcher could bring himself to do was nod along to the elderly koopa and hum thoughtfully.

He gave Blazermate an appreciative nod once she was finished with her rounds of healing, and rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes. The upward movement wasn't exactly comfortable, but it wasn't bothering him overly much, either.

As the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened, Geralt remained in the corner, letting the others pour out and collapse onto themselves in pain, fatigue and frustration. Slowly following after them once the majority had exited, he looked at their new surroundings with a careful eye. The barred room off to their left was the obvious point of interest, but he ignored it in favor of the others' moans, groans and grumbles about their situation. Nadia seemed content to succumb right then and there, Mirage was putting his own little semi-optimistic twist on his own fatalistic thoughts, while the others were too taken aback by the cat's sudden springing into action at the sight of food to really add much on.

Geralt's eyes scrunched up when he saw her look over and start practically attacking the kid on the other side of the bars trying to get at the food he supposedly had. Trying to get a better look, he stepped forward a bit more, only to see Nadia pull her hand back and shoved something into her mouth before chewing like her life depended on it. Though, to be fair, it certainly felt like their lives depended on getting food soon. That might even actually be the case, but he was still keeping that cloaked figure's words in mind. Despite their adversary in Gneidxick, the others of their ilk had been helpful so far. Between stopping the aforementioned gambling degenerate (said the Witcher with a Gwent deck have the size of his swords) and giving some hints as well as a hand here and there, these mysterious 'Masters' had at least given the impression of being on their side.

Or against Galeem and thus only tangentially allied. Which, frankly, was not the same as being on the same side, as Geralt very well knew.

Sighing as the others tried to stop Nadia after she'd already wolfed down half of what she'd grabbed, Geralt palmed his face and wondered exactly which of the bandits or other ne'er-do-wells that he'd killed had given him the bad karma for this particular situation. "And now we have to worry about being cursed. I suppose it was inevitable that someone woul-"

Okay what the hell guys? In the moments that had passed, Bowser had practically thrown himself the bars with no regard for anything remotely approaching decorum, tact, or subtlety, as was his fashion, Junior and his minion tried to sneak through, with more success on the latter's end, and Bella just dispensed with all strategy and simply blew down the wall with her tailgun. Geralt was beyond too tired to even attempt to stop them at this point. The energy would just be wasted on talking as the others surged forth to get food.

He was going to have a damned aneurysm at this rate! Removing his hand from his face, Geralt followed the others as they went inside. He wouldn't lie and pretend that he didn't want to eat. If anything, he was as starved as the rest, if not more than a few based on how much he'd been moving around. But when he so much as thought of food, his mind conjured the image of Marlene's Wight form and that disgusting soup she'd made. The thought made him almost physically wretch, and he couldn't bear the thought of eating anything, even as his stomach protested its emptiness. Dammit, he thought, I'd almost been tempted to, as well...

Tossing that thought aside, Geralt paid closer attention to the room they were now in, and those strange mechanisms carrying packages up and out the room by the padlocked door. He'd overhead Bowser's loud rambling about a key at some point, and figured that this was a good a place to try one of them as any. Thankfully, it seemed Kamek was already on it.

Approaching the eldest Koopa, Geralt nodded in greeting, then repeated the motion to Rika and Link, who was also on board with the plan. Taking the key Link hadn't, he joined the little group that was forming and quietly made his way to the door. It all hinged on one of these keys working. With any luck, they would, but Geralt was not known for luck getting him through the day.

Little did he know, it would be Bowser's genre-savviness that saved them, not luck!

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Nick Waller

_{November 29th- Late Afternoon-Evening}

---

No signal? Hah, what was this, some kind of horror movie?

The things Nick's mind latched onto at some points were an absolute mystery that even the world's top scientists and cryptologists hadn't cracked, but at this moment, it was the sheer asinine coincidence that really made it seem like they were in some kind of messed up horror movie alternate world.

It was a few moments before Nick was able to actually really pay attention to the video Dakota was showing him, though the pervasive sense of wrongness the other boy's contact was giving him started to grow at the same time. He ignored it out of some kind of twisted sense of politeness, not wanting to jerk the hand off of him, and unwilling to back away and be forced to take his eyes off the only real evidence that he was not, in fact, losing his absolute goddamn mind.

Kind of important, that.

Hearing Dakota and Barney talk about the cracks in the video, and seeing them in the video itself, Nick started to come back to himself. His breathing started to stabilize, and he managed to start standing just in time for the spotlight to nearly send him back to the ground. Forcing himself up, Nick sighed in exasperation as the doors to the prison exploded open and the guards came running out, demanding they halt where they were.

If these were normal-looking cops, without the borderline psychopathic attitude these were showing, what with the threats about their legs and all that, Nick might have tried being difficult and asking why they were being detained. But these were not normal-looking cops, they were wearing some sort of identity-concealing gear, like some kind of stereotype of evil shadow government agents in a spy movie. Thus, Nick went to the final stage of 'the script': Shut the Fuck Up.

His hands went up in the air, and even as that disheveled guy tried to fight, Nick kept his head forward and walked. He enjoyed having working legs, thank you.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Nick Waller

_{November 29th- Late Afternoon-Evening}

---

Nick spent another moment looking at all the fellow unfortunate souls who'd gathered here, all brought, unbeknownst to him, by the same cracks he'd followed, before shaking his head and focusing back on the cracks. "I...have no logical explanation for this." He mumbled. It's not like this makes any logical sense, no it's totally normal for magic glowing air vents to open up all over the place yep definitely normal. Narrowing and widening his eyes as if the miniscule change in perspective would show him the secrets of the cracks, Nick shook his head in confusion. He was still a little overwhelmed by everything, and trying to figure this out was not helping.

One hand came to run through his hair, the action barely serving to stifle his nerves from acting up. He wasn't really paying attention to the others and their interactions. He frankly didn't give much of a damn. Too much mental energy was going into holding his already-fragile state of mind together, and he felt that anger coming back, building in his stomach like the need to vomit. In a way, the two were similar. Expelling something poisonous from the body, although in his situation the poison was metaphorical. The same anger that infected his family, that had pervaded his life for as long as he could remember, started taking root in his mind even as his body started to prepare for a fight.

Why the FUCK does this shit always happen to me?! It's like every time something bad happens, a dozen more things happen just to pile it all on! It's not fucking fair! I just want to be left alo-

SNAP!

Already frustrated, already angry, already more than a little unstable, the sudden loud noise tipped Nick over the edge. He couldn't take it. His vision flashed, his mind reeled, and he fell, lost to a memory for a moment.

Nick Waller

_{November 29th- ????}

---

Tears were dripping from his face when Nick finally managed to force himself to look up, ignoring the stinging in his knees and his arms, which had once again caught his fall. Oh. Oh what the fuck. Scrambling to his feet, Nick looked around, his breaths coming in rapidly and shallow, his eyes dilated, and his heart pounding in his chest. To the others, he likely looked like a wild animal the way his head whipped around in abject terror to the sudden change of environment.

He was having a psychotic break. That was definitely what was happening. Something on the gazebo broke, and once he was free of the flashback, his mind couldn't handle the stress and came up with something to explain to his body why he was reacting this way. That giant prison-looking place with the menacing walls and gargoyles and barbed wire was just the school, just his brain making it seems like a prison because of the fact that even though he would genuinely prefer to be here than at home, he was still essentially forced to go to classes to prepare for his designed future.

Why the specifics of the scenery, he couldn't even think to rationalize, but it probably had something to do with his personal feelings on the prison industrial complex. Setting aside that political tangent, Nick finally managed to force into words his feelings. "I'm having a psychotic episode. Okay. Okay, this is...not good, but not too bad. At least I can tell it's happening. Yeah. Yeah that's good." Looking at the others, finally remembering that there were, in fact others around, Nick tried and failed to give a reassuring smile. "Uh...I guess I don't know if you guys are real or not, but uh...yeah can somebody call an ambulance or something?"

After a moment, Nick's moment of rationality ended almost as suddenly as it came, and he started hyperventilating again. "Oh god I'm psychotic they're gonna put me in a hospital and they're gonna call my family or just leave me there nobody else really knows me or even cares they're not gonna let me out I'll just be a patient there forever just like in all those stories you hear about like when they go in as an experiment but the doctors think they're crazy even though they aren't but I actually am crazy but if I get better they still won't let me out oh god oh my god oh my god oh my god...."

As he kept talking, Nick slowly lowered himself to the ground, hands over his face to try and ground him, until he was sufficiently far down enough to plop onto his rear end. Sitting there, crying, mumbling and rambling to himself. A small part of his mind, the self-sabotaging part, the cruel, evil part that held him back in the self-fulfilling prophecy of his broken self-esteem, rejoiced at this. He was always a fuckup, so of course it would all come crashing down. He could only escape the inevitability of his failure for so long. And the more he resisted, the harder it would come.

And come it had.

World of Light

Geralt of Rivia

The Maw- The Depths

Lvl 7 (76/70) -> Lvl 8 (77/70)

Word Count: 679 words

As Geralt continued running towards the elevator, he hoped desperately that Nadia would be able to get away from Moreau before he managed to forcibly remove her. As much as he kept up his aloof outward demeanor, this little band of heroes they were all making together had started to grow on him. He didn't want to see any of their number- or any more of their number, if you counted the diving suit Mirage copy- die. And he had no illusions about her surviving being thrown into the massive debris piles around the place. Sure, if she got lucky and avoided them, she might get away with just major injury, but that wasn't worth counting on.

Thankfully, his callout of the nail had been heard by more than just Nadia herself. Bowser, the King Koopa, the Boss Man himself, had overheard Geralt's mention of the nail, and he just so happened to be carrying a giant hammerhead around. Sure, he lacked the sheer overwhelming size and presence he normally had, but even aged down like the others he was still a force to be reckoned with. Whatever species he and Junior were from were not quite as slow to grow as humans were, clearly. Speaking of the younger Koopa Royal, he had his own plan with that little monster companion thing of his.

And those plans came together quite effectively, all things considered. Between Nadia's own efforts to weaken their adversary, Bowser's gravity-assisted hammer blow, and Mimi's flurry of attacks, the already-enraged Moreau found himself in a whole new world of pain. A grim part of him was satisfied at seeing the guy so messed up, but there were more important things to worry about.

Like getting the hell out of this place. Thankfully, a cheerfully out of place ding noise let Geralt know that that particular goal was just about in reach. Mirage was helping Nadia up after their little magnet stunt worked. Blazermate was jetting around, helping everybody out. Sakura had given them some help with her darts.

And Moreau was freaking out, before rearing up while his belly swelled to grotesque proportions, and unleashing a spew of acidic vomit that would make even the most brutish troll wince in disgust. As for how he could tell it was acidic, the multiple burn holes in his clothes and the searing pain gave him that bit of knowledge. Forcing himself to run as fast as his little legs would allow, Geralt made it quickly into the elevator in time to watch Nadia and Mirage pull themselves up and seemingly wait for death to take them.

To anybody watching, Geralt's face betrayed very little emotion. His eyes bored into the two of them, wondering for a moment what their plan was, only to close in relief as he saw Blazermate grab them and ferry the two to the elevator. "Damn, that's not quire good. Hope the boss gets out alright." Trying to peek out the elevator and get a look at what was going on, Geralt frowned when his relatively safe position that would not let him melt to death in the acid didn't quite afford him the best sight lines.

Sighing, he held two fingers up to his mouth and whistled to get the attention of those who hadn't made it into the elevator yet, only to briefly panic as he saw the nail he'd thrown and Bowser hammered flying back at him.

Drawing the Sign of Quen with one hand and nearly activating it purely on instinct, Geralt managed to stop himself in time before potentially harming himself from the strain and reaching out to grab the weapon as it seemed to slow a bit on approach.

As his hand closed around the nail, its momentum seemingly vanished and he blinked a few times in surprise. "That would have been helpful to know before." He deadpanned before sighing.

Hopefully the others that hadn't quite made it yet would be able to remember where he whistled from and navigate to the elevator without being melted.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

Nick Waller

_{November 29th- Afternoon-Evening}

---

As he finished his lunch and put in his headphones, Nick thanked the lucky stars that he'd taken a longer break period around lunch time. If he had to rush back to class right now, he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it. His foresight, however, had rewarded him with roughly another hour to fart around with. In this case, he'd have to hang up his jacket, put on the other jacket, figure out the best time to run to the dry cleaners with the dirty one, and then fart around. Putting on some motivational music to help stave off those pesky feelings, he returned to his dorm.

Grabbing a coat hanger for his jacket, Nick shrugged off the stained clothing and put the two together, reaching up to put it on the rack. Crack! With a loud noise that made him wince, the cheap, plastic coat hanger snapped, sending Nick's favorite (half-favorite?) garment to the floor.

SLAM. CRACK! Breathing heavily, Nick looked at the molding where the bottom of his fist slammed into it, and sighed. He hadn't quite consciously done that. Instinct had just...taken over, made him hit something. Just like Jason, his mind sneered. Shaking off the thought of his more violently-minded brother, Nick ignored his jacket for a moment before clicking his laptop and putting on a different song, this one much louder than the song he'd played through his headphones.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him. "I'm one with the warrior inside, my dominance can't be denied..." Following along with the lyrics, Nick felt the adrenaline slowly lose its hold over him, and as the song ended, he slowly crumpled to the ground, hands pawing away at the tears falling. "I'm a fucking mess. God. If she saw me like this...hahahahahahahahahaha! 'I can't keep up with you, Nick! It's like one minute you feel one thing, and the next it's the opposite! Do you have any idea how draining it is to feel like I'm constantly walking on eggshells around you?!'" The sneering impression of Nick's ex lead him back into near-hysterical laughter as the waterworks kept flowing and he slumped onto the floor completely.

"Yeah, I know what it's like! It's every day! It's always!" Sobs racking his body as he lost control again, Nick curled into the fetal position, arms curling over his head as his hands ran through and clutched ineffectually at his shortly-cut hair.

He remained like that for a short while, not exactly bothering to attempt to measure how much time passed. The day had already taken its toll on him, and he was genuinely disappointed at how little it had taken to break him. Someone offering genuine help but unexpectedly touching him. Those weird cracks which had started appearing. Then getting a sandwich dropped on his jacket at lunch. Wow. Much difficult. Very hard day. So worth having a total mental collapse over, yep, definitely, nothing pathetic about this!

The absurdity of it almost made him laugh as he stretched back out, rolling onto his back and looking up at the ceiling with a sigh. His eyes followed the long, glowing crack for a few moments before he sat up. Quickly getting to his feet, he noticed there was also another crack where he'd sort-of maybe punched the molding around his closet. "What the fuck? I didn't hit it that hard." Moving over to touch the crack, Nick scrunched his face up in concentration as he felt the same warm, flowing breeze coming from it that he felt from the ones before. "Okay, that's...certainly not normal. What the fuuuuuuuckkkkkk."

Looking between the two cracks in his room, Nick sighed as he realized he was definitely gonna get charged for this. Sure, his scholarships and the money he'd withdrawn when he left home were more than enough to cover him without saddling down tens of thousands in debts (until Law School but HAHAHA let's not talk about that right now!), but he wasn't exactly keen on having to pay for spontaneously appearing magical cracks.

That was assuming, of course, that they weren't visual hallucinations and he wasn't actually just having a psychotic break. That would be its own problem, though.

Checking the clock and noticing that he had a few minutes to spare before his final class of the day, Nick sighed and grabbed his various belongings, hung his messy jacket up on a good hanger this time, and washed his face once again before making his way across campus and to his class. Environmental Law. Important, vital even, but boring. Much like Politics. Dumb but important.

Class went by mostly calmly, with Nick participating much less than usual, until somebody made the fatal mistake of mentioning the impact of global trade on environmental law, and how different countries with less strict laws regarding dumpage and hazardous waste gave them a competitive edge of countries with stricter environmental regulation, like America.

Unwilling to participate in the raging debate that started, and grew so far out of control that even the Professor lost the proverbial sauce, Nick tried to shut out the louder and more frustrating members of class who lacked the panache that Nick would humbly ascribe to himself. Despite a valiant effort, the ever-growing cacaphony of noise started drowning itself out into a metaphorical buzzing inside his head that Nick knew was the prelude to a panic attack or a violent meltdown. Today was feeling more violent, and Nick quickly started shoving his belongings into his backpack before the growing pit of unending fury in his stomach could get control again. He heard the Professor call his name, in what actually seemed like a worried tone, but Nick waved him off with a generic excuse about not feeling well, sorry, I'll e-mail you later, I have to go now bye before quickly making his way out of class, mind abuzz with thoughts not his own, responses he forced himself not to voice, insults left unspoken.

As he made his way outside with rapid footsteps, Nick was surprised to see even more cracks in the concrete, flowing almost like a river. With his higher thought processes sort of on the fritz, he contented himself with the distraction and simply followed them along mindlessly, not paying much attention to anything beyond avoiding other people. He vaguely recognized that he was being lead towards the Gulf of Mexico, but he paid that no mind as well. Right now, he just wanted to see where this crazy shit lead, because it would at least be interesting, even if it was miserable. Interesting miserable was better than boring miserable, right?

Soon enough, he came upon the gazebo and the others gathered around, some sitting, some leaning against supports, one guy even just lying down on the ground. He saw the other guy who'd gotten food spilled on him, asshole, the poor girl who'd done it, and even a teacher's assistant he'd seen around.

What a weird bunch of people to be in one place. They seemed a little out of it, much like he was sure he looked, and at least one of them was still looking at the cracks.

"Oh fucking thank God I'm not hallucinating." The words just spilled out of him, unbidden and unstoppable, and Nick sighed. He was doing that a lot today.

World of Light

Geralt of Rivia

The Maw- The Depths

Lvl 7 (75/70) -> Lvl 8 (76/70)

Word Count: 294 words

Geralt followed after Mirage as they climbed, aided along and invigorated by his companion's own drive. It didn't do anything for the cramps, but it gave him something to focus on instead of them. For now, that would have to do. He didn't pay any mind to the boy's laughter, not deeming it worth worrying about. Knowing him, he'd thought up some joke or something. It would likely be better than anything Dandelion would spout, but Geralt wasn't sure he was in the mood for jokes, so he appreciated Mirage keeping it to himself.

Geralt's own reaction to Moreau's attack was much more muted. He frowned, watching as the cat girl fell into his grotesque array of eyes, only to be distracted by Blazermate's rescue of the Cadet. Good, a distracted enemy was a much easier foe to handle. It was time to do or die, literally in Nadia's case.

Mirage swapped his dart gun for Sakura's magnet, and tossed one of the magnets down to Nadia. Geralt was honestly completely unsure of what that was meant to accomplish aside from some probably-jokey flirting, but he didn't question it. If their current plan failed, he needed to figure out what to do.

Well, that wasn't actually true. He needed to figure out how to jump down there, distract Moreau, and help Nadia escape without dying. Easier said than done. Although, he did have one thing to say that might help out. "Nadia!" He called. "See if you can find that nail from before! Should still be in one of those eyes!" Making his way towards the elevator once more, Geralt would have to content himself with not quite being able to do as much as he'd like.

Felt like a running theme, today, really.

Persona - Soldiers of Fortune

@BCTheEntity, @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN, @SilverPaw

Alina Sanford, Nick Waller, Caelum Harrington

Thoroughly off-put by how his morning had been going, Nick trudged to the campus cafeteria, only paying enough attention to his surroundings to avoid bumping into people. His mind was reeling, and though he’d regained enough of a hold over his mental state to avoid a total spiral, his heart was still beating heavily, his breaths came shakily, and he was sweating just a little from his forehead despite it being the end of November. The adrenaline rush from his close call earlier hadn’t quite faded yet, and he was suffering for it.

Caelum was unaccountably pleased it was lunchtime. His latest class hadn’t been entirely bad, but he’d been late and stared at unfavourably by the professor. An experience he didn’t care to repeat, certainly. As he made his way to the cafeteria, his quietly grumbling stomach gave him another reason for his relief and anticipation - he was hungry. He’d not eaten a proper breakfast, just a small snack from a vending machine. It’d been enough then, but the lack of proper nutrition showed now. It was only a shame there were so many people during this time slot. But there was nothing to do but line up.

Alina was glad to be out of the class. Sure enough, she’d had to ask Mary about what she’d needed as extra notes, and they both pointedly avoided the topic of what she’d said earlier. Maybe she should have taken Guy’s help... oh well. It didn’t matter, anyway. It was lunch now, and she had her small lunch to unwrap. It was honestly better than trying to get anything from the college cafeteria - the lines were always... lengthy.

She should really have known better than to try and unwrap the sandwich whilst walking. It usually wasn’t an issue, but she still needed to get it open- but, like clockwork, she wound up tripping on a chair, spilling the whole thing over a couple of the people lining up. Especially the cheese. Go figure, now she’d need to line up too- and what could she say to them?

‘Sorry.’

Nick could only sigh as he felt something ‘plop’ against his side and he looked down, only to see bits and pieces of grated cheese all over his jacket, with a few slices of ham to boot. “Oh come the FUCK on…” he thought, and apparently said, only noticing after the fact with a cringe. On reflex, he went to wipe the offensive debris off of his jacket, only to smear it into the fabric. “Ohhh god fucking dammit....” He muttered, deflating. “...probably gonna need to dry clean that.” And today was going so well, Nick mused. Just figures it’d keep getting better.

There was movement from the corner of his eye, but before Caelum could react properly, sandwich bits were flying into him, getting smeared into his shirt and vest. He whirled in the direction of the offender, seeing some hapless girl picking herself up, apologizing quietly. “Do you honestly believe a ‘sorry’ is going to cut it?!” he fumed, barely restraining himself from outright shouting, but anger clearly lined his tone.

Gritting his teeth, he went to grab a bunch of napkins, stacking them on his tray, and using one by one to pick bits of food off himself carefully. All the while he sent heated glances at the offender, and eventually, after getting the immediate urge to cause an even larger scene out of his system, addressed her again. “If you want to be anywhere approaching useful, you may want to think about compensating us for the cleaning,” Caelum waved a hand to encompass himself and the others who’d been unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of this mess.

“Though,” he continued, without waiting for an answer, looking up and down her scruffy appearance with disdain, “as I suspect you are unable to afford that, you should at least help mitigate the disaster.” Then, he returned to saving his clothes, as much as he was able to with only a few napkins.

Caelum was close enough to notice a man dealing with his jacket, and shoved the napkin-full tray in his direction. “Use those, if you like,” he offered harshly.

Alina blinked as the scene unfolded in her direction. Go figure. You spill food on people, they get angry. Angry enough to demand repayment for cleaning costs, even, or at least to demand she help them with cleaning up. Was one of them about to cry, too? Or... was that from before now? Now she felt bad. She should do as she was told.

‘Okay. Sorry.’

Grabbing a napkin, she began picking pieces of cheese off of the more upset person, with the puffy eyes. Smearing cheese and ham water into it wouldn’t help, they needed pulling off. And butter, now that she looked at them both.

Nick barely paid attention to Caelum’s little rant, tuning it out like he’d tune out his mother’s yelling. He took the napkins with barely a nod and plucked off a few bits of cheese, only to notice that the girl who’d dropped her stuff also grabbed a few napkins was helping. He tried to smile at her, but he imagined it only came out as some kind of pitiful half-whimpering look, given that he was, actually, about to start crying again out of frustration.

What a jackass he thought of Caelum, but didn’t say anything, unwilling to provoke the well-dressed boy’s ire and definitely break down into sobs right here in front of everybody. Because that was what he needed. Instead, he focused on getting more of the crap off his jacket, glad that he bought a backup before leaving Oklahoma. It would be coming in handy while he got this one cleaned.

When Caelum was done with the hasty cleaning, he was still a mess. Not unexpected. But at least there was nearly no more cheese or ham anywhere in sight. The stains remained, of course. And who knew what was in the places he couldn’t reach, namely, his back? God, and everyone was staring. Some had laughed, many more were whispering to each other, and a majority of the strangers were so pointedly not looking their way, they may as well be announcing their interest.
“Maybe some water and soap?” Caelum muttered, fingering a stain on his cufflink. But then...did he really want to go like this to a bathroom, wandering past who knew how many people? Sure, he’d have to bear with that regardless of where he went, but in that case, it’d be much better to just go straight back to his flat. At least then, he could get a change of clothes, and get these immediate professional attention. Hopefully they wouldn’t shrink, or something.

“So much about lunch,” he scoffed. He briefly glanced at the slip of a girl who was now helping the other man, but barely felt a spark of ire. Honestly, Caelum was suddenly just so done with it all. And it’d been barely half a day. Shaking his head resignedly, he cleaned up his tray, sorting out the various items where they belonged.

There was nothing for him here, anymore, not if you didn’t count the onset of mortification, which had started to seep into his awareness to fill in the gaps left by his now departed rage. Jesus, if anyone asked these people, Caelum was sure they’d identify him as the worst of the lot, rather than the sandwich-hurling menace. Now all he needed was some idiot deciding this debacle was school-paper worthy. He smiled twistedly as he considered what his father would have to say about such an accomplishment.

Alina, meanwhile, had already been part and parcel to any such mortification already. Or she would have been, if the incident mattered at all. It was another bad thing to add to a bad mood. What could be done about it?

‘I’m sorry.’

Well apologising more wasn’t going to help, was it? She’d not even helped the other guy out, he was clearly still angry, she couldn’t just...

‘Is there anything I can help with to make up for it?’

Hell. Why make that suggestion? She didn’t have time to help people do things, she was... well, no. She had far, far too much time to do all manner of things, which was the actual problem. Courses didn’t do much for her, and she didn’t get out a lot. But luck would probably preempt any studying with Mary later…

Nick nodded a few times absent-mindedly when Alina apologized, still mostly focused on cleaning the last bits of sandwich debris from his jacket. “It’s alright. Not like you decided to yeet your whole lunch on some random guys on purpose.” He couldn’t help but let out a little sigh, then shook his head when she offered to help. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like it’s gonna cost a lot to get this thing cleaned anyway.”

Content that he’d done a halfway decent job at managing the disaster that was his jacket, he bent down to grab some pieces that had fallen to the floor and bundled them up in the ever-growing pile of napkins that he was holding. “And now you gotta buy lunch, too. Still, where the fuck does that guy get off talkin’ shit like that?” The little bit of fire in his voice surprised Nick, who shook it off and shrugged. “‘As I suspect you are unable to afford that’ God, it’s dry cleaning, not an entire new suit. Dumbass.”

Realizing that he was rambling to the floor, Nick stood back up and walked over to a trash can to deposit his collection. “To answer your question, you don’t have to do anything, no. It’s gonna be like twenty bucks, if that, to get this dry cleaned. I’ve had to do it a few times here and there.”

Since Caelum had to go back and forth at least once while cleaning up, he was unfortunate enough to hear the jacket-man disparaging him to that daft girl. Though he’d begun feeling embarrassed for his outburst, he couldn’t help but be slighted by the offense. Indignation coloured his cheeks, and he bit out, “Where do I get off?” The words weren’t as heated as his previous one, though he was still clearly displeased.

“I simply berated her for her negligence, that’s all,” defensiveness coloured his tone. It was a poor excuse, and Caelum knew it. As he’d suspected, the moment he’d reacted with vitriol to what people perceived as a minor accident, he’d been the one painted as unreasonable. He had no allies here. Perhaps, in this, he would have them nowhere. The man’s recrimination twisted his scowl into a grimace. “I am sure you believe your anger is justified,” Caelum challenged.

Alina wasn’t keen to be in the middle of a fight between people over a mistake she was responsible for. And she’d spilled her food on them, after all. She deserved a bit of berating for it.

‘You don’t need to fight. It’s my fault.’

She stayed quiet other than that, shuffling backward to keep out of their way.

Nick just raised an eyebrow at Caelum’s defense of his outburst, before shaking his head. “Dude, I’m not angry. This isn’t my angry face,” He joked, pointing at his face. “It’s... I guess casual disdain would be the best way to put it.” He looked back at Alina, clearly uncomfortable and sighed. Truth was, he hadn’t expected the other guy to hear him, and was actually feeling pretty awkward himself.

“She tripped. It happens, man. It’s not worth blowin’ up over. Treating people like that really just makes you look like the asshole.” He put a hand on his head, rubbing his eyebrows. “Whatever, just call me an asshole and do whatever you were gonna do, I need to eat.” With that, he turned away from the other boy and went over to the line to wait for food.

Caelum quirked a brow at that, briefly tilting his head. Casual disdain, was it? “Well, the feeling is certainly mutual,” he lied smoothly. If anything, he was fairly indifferent to the other male at the moment; for one, his skills at deflection were decent enough, and for another, he’d retreated, so the pressure of being backed into a corner receded as well. “At least the advice was sensible,” he commented with a shake of his head. He did as he’d intended to, and departed from the cafeteria.

By now, Alina had started to walk off toward the back of the line, the job of tidying everything up done largely by the two guys. And largely not her. Go figure.

‘...thanks.’

She should say thank you to the person defending her before leaving him, at least. That was what people expected, appreciation, even though he hadn’t needed to say anything for her. She wasn’t worth that much.

Turning his head back to Alina, he gave a visibly half-hearted smile and shrugged. “Uh... you’re welcome I guess? I dunno, just... don’t feel like I did anything worth thanking me for. Kinda just feel like I made it worse…” Nick admitted, his half-smile turning to a half-frown before he shrugged again. “Oh well. Something tells me that stick is firmly up his ass anyway. Probably wouldn’t get along on a good day.”

‘Right. Well, see you.’

She didn’t want to inconvenience this guy any more than she had. Best to just get in line and wait to get lunch, now.

Nick turned his head back to the line and nodded. “Sure.” It wasn’t much, as far as goodbyes went, but it was something. Well that fucking sucked.