Xandrya

Firefly - Second 'Verse

A Matter of Truss

Part 2 of a JP/Collab from @Xandrya, @Gunther, @Bugman, @wanderingwolf, and @sail3695

"A socket driver you say... I may know what that is," she playfully feigned ignorance as she followed Yuri. Imani hadn't been out in the black in what seemed like an eternity, and if she was being honest with herself, she was growing slightly anxious, though that was something she'd keep to herself. "Been a while since I've confronted the vastness out there, better time than ever.”

Yuri led the way up topside. “Abby,” he spoke into the suit com, “Imani’s headed outside. We have a suit that’ll fit her? Okay….okay….okay…..shiny. I’ll let her know. You’re in luck,” he smiled over his shoulder his shoulder as they made for the airlock. Abby’s got her own suit prepped and ready to go. She said you should find it a fair enough fit.” Sure enough, upon arrival the pair found an EV suit, freshly charged and just awaiting an occupant. “You said it’s been awhile,’ Yuri offered. “The only things you have to take off are your shoes and the lab coat. After that I’d say anything that you think restricts your range of motion. Then, just step inside.”

He turned his back. “Let me know when you’re in and I’ll make sure you’re all buttoned up.”

She nodded in response, shrugging off her coat before neatly placing it on the ground against the bulkhead. Imani then stepped off her shoes as well, pushing them adjacent to the coat. At first glance, one could almost compare her lithe figure to that of a dancer were it not for Imani spending years pursuing and maintaining a toned fit.

The medic then worked her way into the EV suit just like she had done all those years ago, adjusting accordingly as she went.

"All set!" Imani held out her arms in front of her, palms up then palms down, figuring out her range of motion.

The First Mate stepped behind the doc. “If EV suits run from ‘Wow!’ to ‘You Gotta Be Kiddin’ Me,’ these are closer to ‘That’ll Do, Pig.” His hand pushed it’s way along her spine, telegraphing the sensation of the atmo seal membrane working into place. “Edina calls this the Zip-Lock…and no, I don’t like it, either,” he teased, before securing the opening with a heavy poly zipper. “Suit controls on your left forearm. Battery and O2 levels should give you six hours’ time, but nobody goes longer than four.”

He watched her as he spoke. Imani had a butterfly or two, but she wasn’t gone pale or clammy with panic. Her eyes tracked with his lecture; she was following, working it out for herself as he covered the basics. “Yeah, you’ve got the comm headset part. Now, the helmet Turn it forty-five degrees left and it’ll drop into the track…perfect. Now pull it straight until you feel the click and then the hiss…that’s it! You’re pressurized!”

Yuri sealed the airlock hatch before cycling the CABIN DEPRESS valve. “First part of our trip will be a walk down under,” he turned, an action hardly graceful in the bulky suit. “The boots have magnetic soles. Power ‘em up,” he said as he took the first rung of the ladder. “Ready to go, Doc?”

She was no rookie to taking these sorta walks, but Imani did listen to Yuri as he went on, eventually activating the magnetic soles of the boots to follow him out, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering a little more intensely. She gestured for him to go on and she'd be right behind him, gripping that first ring for dear life. "I hope Abby doesn't mind me taking her suit," she joked, a light-hearted comment to quiet down her anxious mind. "It's comfortable enough in here that I might keep it for myself."

“Abigail,” The Captain called into his suit comm, “do you have another cut to the last size for the port side? This one’s in place. Once you and the Sister have it ready, get Elias to bring it back out.” Abby and Sister Lyen had been working with Yuri to cut pieces of the truss to order according to the specs they’d settled on prior. That Elias was a sharp fellow, and his tuning of the plan was a mighty boon to their getting onto the next journey as quick as they could. Cal surveyed the bead of his last welding line under the bright shoulder light from his suit. With a nod, he reckoned it would pass Elias’ muster. Clipping the mobile welder into place at his belt, Strand began making his way to the port side, picking his way among the growing skeleton stretching out from the China Doll.

Heading back to the way inside, Elias would stop, having remembered he had to be here. The China Doll didn’t have as many windows as some more… leisurely vessels. Which ultimately, was all well and good. Windows were a structural weakness, and Elias was far too literal of a man to think the beauty of space was diluted by the screen of a camera pointed at the void. As if the vast dark emptiness had any beauty to begin with.

Regardless, he tore himself out of these musings. The reason he even went on this train of thought was because his text-to-speech device wasn’t actually useful where it wouldn’t be hurt. Thankfully, friction still existed in space, and thus at least chalk on blackboard still worked. But a window, he needed a window. Greeting the arrivals planning to exit from the airlock, he would be a sight either pleasant or unwelcome as he held up a brief sentence. “CLEAN THE AIRLOCK OF DEBRIS.” he would be glad, when he was seemingly obeyed.

“What?” Abby asked. Despite them earmuffs, she’s near deafened from the racket of the gorram rip saw. “Yeah, yeah, near got the port side pieces notched an’ ready. Lyen’s here waitin’.” She had to give Elias credit. His idea of just notchin’ pipe an’ weldin’ it instead of trying to overthink it the way Yuri had in mind was makin’ for serious quick work. But of course, they’s a down side to that, too. Seemed like ever’body’s workin’ in the black ‘cept her who got to spend the day rattlin’ her teeth loose cuttin’ all this pipe. Now Imani’s gonna be prancin’ about in my suit, she groused inwardly. Ain’t that some purty la shi?

The saw bit hard, sending a shower of sparks flying across the cargo bay. Their light reflected and danced in the girl’s safety glasses as she pulled the blade down to the yellow hash mark. A quick turn and a side cut later saw the required notch cut into the pipe. “Alrighty, Sister,” Abby called out after wrapping the two finished pieces with bailing wire for easier transit. “Cap’n wants these on the port side.”

Lyen nodded as her gloved fingers set the helmet into position, the neck seam snapping into place with a satisfying pressurization. She closed the distance to the neat bundle the deckhand had prepared and, though it took both hands, the nun held the pipes fast as she made for the airlock. Hammering the button the close the airlock, Lyen slowly turned toward the aft of the ship, careful not to knock the pipes against the tight space. In a few moments the blackness of space would open up before her. No matter how many times she went out, it was always accompanied by those butterflies in her stomach; the ones that hinted that the infinite unknown was closer than you might think.

Once the nun had stepped into the forward airlock, Abby checked the clipboard. Elias was looking for a pair of eight footers on the starboard side. That meant Cap’n would need some on port when he caught up. The girl sighed, sending a stray wisp of hair skyward afore gettin’ right to work.

“Shiny,” Cal called into his com, nearing the apex of the China Doll. Standing there, stradling the ship, he couldn’t help but feel pride well up. This ship and crew all worked their parts, each one important, each one pullin’ their weight. There was a meditation to it. He tilted his head to better see a galaxy spread out above his right shoulder. If he were a man of faith, he might wonder at the artist who’d set those brilliant pinks and browns and blues in the sky. But he had work to do. With a grunt, Strand continued down the port side of the Firefly to meet the Sister there.

As Elias retreated further to the safety of the China Doll, he would have to stop and write again another thought that came to his mind. “ANYBODY WHO IS HEADING OUT, MAKE SURE->” the arrow was added to indicate there was more to come, as he flipped over the bit of blackboard. “YOU HAVE A HARNESS. DON’T DISAPPEAR ON ME.” If this was an asteroid or the like, he might have been more tolerant of substandard safety measures. But, this relay station wasn’t even an asteroid, a wrong step and somebody would thus be lost to the eternal nothing.

“That’s a copy, Elias.” Nobody was apt to have a chat with the mechanic about the sound of his ‘text-to-speech’ application. A man’s chosen voice was, after all, a matter of his own expression, and some with a string of academic letters trailing their names might argue an extension of his very psyche…a personal matter indeed. No matter how off putting, the First Mate cut his mic, stifling a chuckle as he cycled the upper airlock hatch shut.

He and Imani were stood atop the Firefly’s galley dome. The sight around them was enough to take the breath. The black was a grand tapestry of glittering stars in all directions, but for the massive sphere in whose lee they now took shelter. Ahead lay the upper viewports through which could be seen the new crew, Penny and her daughter, apparently at work with Edina to put together the evening’s supper. Oh yeah, he remembered her worried thoughts about “Taco Tuesday” and whether she was taking it too far with the protein paste…

Imani was studying him, her gaze inscrutable. “Sorry,” Yuri gave a quick smile. “Derailed train of thought. So…Elias reminded me I should give you the safety talk. It’s pretty simple.” he began. “When you walk, take it slow. Put your right foot down solid. Feel the magnets engage…then move your left. Foot down heel to toe…magnets..good! It’s a stroll, not a race. Next,” he stopped before the medic. “The harness Elias mentioned is actually woven into your suit. You’ve got safety hooks at belt height left and right.”

He paused, allowing her to find the two hooks. “When you’re climbing truss to bolt on new sections, your mag boots won’t be useful. Out there, you want to clip onto the structure. Each of those hooks has a two meter retractable safety line. You can test them now while we’re standing here.”

"Seems simple enough."

Imani proceeded to fasten herself onto the structure, then slowly took some steps back until she felt the tension. That eased her mind a little. "You weren't lying."

She then stepped forward to undo the hooks.

“Shiny,” Yuri nodded, the movement of his head not translating through his suit. “Now the serious stuff. If you get a puncture, you’ve got a quick patch in your right pocket. Sing out and slap on. And finally…” This time, Yuri took a step closer. “If you get disconnected…if you’re free floating and can’t touch the boat. I don’t care if the tips of your gloves are brushing metal…there’s nothing more serious. If you can’t clap on, you cry ‘Overboard!’ Dohn mah?

Imani nodded, looking him in the eyes. It was inevitable when certain images creeped up in her mind. She saw herself casually floating off into nothingness after losing her grip and struggling regain it, only to fail; her efforts faster depleting the oxygen in her tank.

"Trust me when I say I will not deviate from that plan if I just so happen to be unlucky enough.”

Yuri handed over one of the two kit bags he’d clipped to his own suit hooks. “Thanks for helpin’ us out here, Doc.” With a gesture for Imani to switch her suit comms to a private channel, Yuri said, “not to speak ill of anyone on our crew, but I’ve had the feeling that Abby’s off kilter somehow. I’m not about to put her in a suit til she’s got her feet under her again. But for now,” he cracked a thin smile, “you’ve got your choice. You wanna bolt truss for the Cap’n, or Elias?”

She grew concerned at his mention of Abby. "Oh, that's unfortunate. Wished she would've come talked to me..." Imani didn't mean to sound disappointed, but she'd hoped Abby was feelin' comfortable enough to open up to her about her troubles. She had, after all, offered herself to be a listening ear. "But she's a big girl, I ain't worried," her smile was convincing enough. "Now, let's focus on work. Given the options you've presented, I'm gonna take my chances with Elias... What's all in here?" Imani looked down at the bag.

“Your socket driver,” Yuri extracted the tool from his own bag, an ordinary looking battery powered hand drill. “You’ve got a fresh battery. Also, nuts and bolts for the truss,” he finished as they set off down the starboard side. “Sister and I will supply you with pipe and truss when you call for it. There’s your work partner now.”

Ahead could be seen Elias, legs splayed out into the black, one hand clutching metal as the other held a flickering welder to the task. “Man,” the First Mate breathed, “he’s not wasting time.”

“You can say that again,” Lyen remarked, returning for another line of pipe. Abigail was a veritable force of nature with the speed at which she was producing these pipes cut to angle. The cold of space kept them cool, but had this taken place planetside, the nun knew she’d be sweating to keep up. With a nod to Abby, Ly took a freshly cut pipe and turned tail back to the black.

Seeing the rest of the gang getting out, Elias would twitch a little to observe them. It seemed they were doing just about enough, there wasn’t anything at the surface level to complain about. He’d simply give a curt nod of acknowledgement to them, though there was a somewhat pressing issue he did have to finally bring up. Sighing, he put his tools away. Again he began to scratch on his blackboard. “BACK ITCHES. CANT REACH IT IN SUIT. ANNOYING TO TAKE OFF.” Then he’d flip it over, with a single word written on the other side. “HELP.” It didn’t matter who did it, he just hoped

"Thanks for the help!"

She then turned to Elias, mouthing the word "okay" with a quick nod. Imani pointed to her upper back, mid back, and then finally her lower back. What followed was a pause to allow Elias to indicate where he itched. Imani repeated the same with her left and right sides, pointing over her shoulders in order to get a more precise spot.

The pair stopped at the base of the truss tower on which Elias worked. “I’ll leave you to it,” Yuri lifted a hand before turning away. That didn’t work so well, he conjured of his shared thought with the medic. Word had it she’d been in the know on what it was might be behind the changes in their deckhand’s personality of late…but apparently if she was, she wasn’t of a mind to share those thoughts.

He stepped carefully, magnetic soles gripping the bottom of the cargo hold as he made his way across to the port side. Whatever was eating Abby, he mused, she hadn’t acted out on it. Since the Skyplex, she just hadn’t acted on anything at all. The girl did her job without being told or watched over; with that much in her favor she really was entitled to be left to herself if she chose to live inside her own head for a spell. The only part of that picture that had folk on edge was the sudden interest in her after hours pistol training.

Even then, the First Mate knew that the teenager was being safe about it. Her live rounds were all counted and boxed. The test slugs in her chamber interacted with the gunscan to determine speed and accuracy of her fire. Hour after hour, night after night, the practice app on her cortex would project targets around her quarters. And hour after hour, night after night, she’d jerk that pistol, working on her speed, refining her technique. Whine……whoosh….click. Whine…whoosh…click.

Yuri knew that for Abby, the quick draw of a gunfighter was her uncle’s trade. She’d mentioned being taught by him, but the girl had never boasted of her own prowess. Well, a sudden stone silence and a need to start waving a firearm about can damage folk’s calm, he reasoned to himself. I think it’s time we had a sit down.

He stopped at the base of a long truss tower, curving itself beneath the ship like a skeletal finger. Near the top could be seen a suited figure, welder glowing blue as he affixed the stiffening pipe to an angled truss joint. Looked like the Cap’n was ready for another stick of truss. After loosing a ten foot piece from the reserve bundle, he looped an arm through the structure and began to pull himself up the tower. “Heading your way, Cap’n,” Yuri announced over the general comm channel as he moved.

Cal’s torch cut out as he chimed back, “Roger that. This one’s set and I’m ready to run another. I’ll move fore, and you line up your piece aft here.” The Captain locked the welder in place on his belt as he looped arm around the truss he’d just set, and moved toward the bow. They were clipping along, and the truss was taking shape. In his mind’s eye, he could see where they’d slot in the supplies and booty that would keep them going through this haul. Elias and Yuri were making the plan come to life. He’d just about made his way to the other side, when he turned back to see Yuri’s progress with the truss.

Using his free hand and one foot, the First Mate crab walked his way along the curved tower. Even lugging a ten foot piece as he was, the trip in zero G was deceptively easy, forcing him to slow himself down on more than one occasion lest his momentum would rob him of the chance at a hand grip. After a moment’s deliberate climbing, both Yuri and his cargo made it safely to their destination, the current end of the tower.

Here, he had his bearings. Up was up. China Doll’s bottom lay just over four meters above his head. Four-point-three-seven, if my math was any good, he thought as he hauled the next piece of truss into place. This one was a straight joint; no hinge plates and stiffening pipes to lock a turn. Just four bolts to begin a span that would soon link up to the structure that Elias and Imani were even now building toward him. Like Earth-That-Was he smiled over the story of the transcontinental railroad, a great effort to lay track from opposite ends of a continent to meet at an exact point. And they came close, too…if close was measured in a deviation of yards.

He worked, careful not to set nuts and bolts adrift from his pouch. Once he’d gotten four bolts started, he was able to run the driver hard, locking each tightly into place. This task complete, he glanced about, taking stock of his shipmates.

Cap’n had moved forward, and was busy welding the first of a pair of pipes to lock a curve as Sister Lyen was hooked nearby with its’ mate. Across the void, Imani was moving, pulling truss outward to a waiting Elias. They were making excellent time. “Unless anyone needs anything,” Yuri called out over the comm channel, “I’m down to straight runs here. I’ll just keep bolting my way across.”

“Shiny,” came Cal’s reply over the mic as he looked up from his work. He noticed Lyen and nodded before bringing the torch to finish his bead. It took a bit of balance to feed the welder and make a good strong weld toe without going overboard. Too heavy handed and he ate into the pipe, too light and he had to fill in the gaps and waste material. Still, many things in life were worth mastering, especially if they made a body self-sufficient. Sure, he’d take credit for putting Elias’ coaching into practice, why not? “All set here,” he called into the com. Lyen met his look for more and started moving into position.

At that moment, Edina’s voice sounded over all the suit comms. “This is your galley crew checking in to remind you that it’s Protein Paste Taco Tuesday! Food’ll be hot and ready in thirty ticks and we need all y’all in your chairs at that time…ESPECIALLY YOU, ELIAS. It’s not all protein paste. Cap’n let me splurge on an actual avocado, too. Come and get it before it goes all brown and…crumbly. That is all.”

Firefly - Second 'Verse

The Big Build

Part 1 of a JP/Collab from @Xandrya, @Gunther, @Bugman, @wanderingwolf, and @sail3695

For any whose course might err upon it, Cortex Relay Station K-29B was a formidable looking sphere, roughly the size of the Grand Stadium on Osiris. K-29B is unique; her sister stations are all rather unremarkable small asteroids fitted out with the necessary datacom transceivers and positioning thruster systems to hold them fast in their far flung postings. The reason for this stark difference lies in recent history. The original station K-29 was discovered to have been remotely accessed by the hacker known as “Mr. Universe.” His administrator link permitted an upload of the now infamous Miranda Broadwave which 29A’s corrupted systems propagated throughout the entire network, much to the embarrassment of the Alliance.

In the timeless tradition of men in power, the Alliance reacted swiftly, bombarding the cortex with misinformation and conspiracy theories concerning the Miranda drug trials, explaining away the resulting Reavers as merely a bogeyman created by Browncoats to mask their terrorist acts, and culminating in the public arrest and execution of a number of said Browncoat “Reavers.” Station K-29B was constructed as a symbol of steely resolve, its’ state of the art data management infrastructure and firewalls impervious behind an equally hardened outer hull that none would dare approach, let alone attempt to breach.

Of course, the designers weren’t counting on S.A.M.A.N.T.H.A.

China Doll hovered in the great sphere’s lee. Occasionally, her thrusters would fire, just the lightest touch to offset the gravity of the larger station. At the current phase of her truss build, she resembled a large insect, six legs angling down from hard points on the hull.

Suited figures moved about, busy at their tasks. Elias and Cap’n had already begun welding. Thanks to the mechanic’s suggestion of adding pipes as stiffening cantilevers, they’d been able to simply bolt the truss joints to their hinge plates and then weld to precut pipe lengths…a move that was going to save them a full day’s labor. For his part, Elias kept true to form. It would be annoying perhaps, the constant droning of his text-to-speech device or his frantic hand signals and scratching of his whiteboard. Constant demands to make sure the parts were clean almost to the level of hospital sterility to ensure impurities wouldn’t become vulnerabilities, and he inspected every supposedly complete bit to ensure the weld had gone deep enough to make sure the integrity wasn’t compromised. If it was, he’d immediately demand the job not be half-assed.

Imani finally left the med bay in its previous state prior to her arrival and some routine work; pristine and ready for patients should someone require her services. It was Yuri the first body she came across with a clipboard, so it was he who would advise what needed to be done, or at least, that's what she thought.

"Anything I can do to help expedite the process?" She walked up from behind Yuri, and Imani could have sworn she had startled him from the slightest movement on his part. With a smile, she circled around the first mate. "I'm all caught up on my end and would rather not sit around twiddling my fingers.”

He’d been in the bulky EV suit for hours, gliding relentlessly through the black from one side of the boat to the other to oversee the skeletal fingers of truss which were now beginning to curl downward and beneath her hull. Fueled by Edina’s breakfast and at least four cups of coffee, Yuri’s excitement over seeing this part of the job come to fruition had overridden not only his better judgment, but the capacity of his bladder, to boot. Now, after a desperate rush back inside, he stood outside the lav, wrestling his way back into the suit.

“Oh…oh,” Yuri gave a mild start at the sound of Imani’s voice from behind. He turned, his smile a mix of sheepish good humor. “Shiny, Doc. We could use your hands on a socket driver. Come on, we’ll get you suited up.”

“Izzy, stow your gear. We should check out the ship. I'd like to meet with Edina in the galley.” Izzy was slow to move, lazing about with a cortex playing some mindless game. “Izzy! Move!” Her mother stared at her. The girl looked back in contempt. She laid the cortex on a small table. With a shrugged, slumped shoulder she trudged toward the hatchway. Her mother preceded her heading to the galley.

The couple walked in, “hello, anyone here?”

“In here!” A muffled voice cried out from behind the pantry hatch, followed by a resounding crash and clatter of all make and manner of tumble. “I’m okay!” Edina shouted next, before appearing with very heavy, very deep skillet. “Hey,” she laughed, “it’s Protein Paste Taco Tuesday. Broken bones are extra!”.

“Well, now that was quite an introduction,” Penny stated smiling. “My name is Penny. Penny Abernathy and this is my daughter, Isabella. But everyone calls her Izzy.” Penny motioned toward her 11-year old daughter, then held out her hand to shake.

“Edina Wyman,” she returned the smile as both women clasped hands. “It’s a pleasure. You too, Isabella.” The galley hand’s gaze fixed upon the standoffish girl. “How would you like to be addressed? You can call me Edina or Eddie, whichever one you like.”

Izzy looked at Edina and stated sheepishly, “Izzy.”

“Do you need any help? I know my way around a kitchen, or in this case, a galley.”

With an energetic nod, Edina moved toward the cupboard. “Sure can.” She produced a large cutting board and a rolling pin, before turning toward the icebox. “Time to make the taco shells. The masa’s all ready,” she said, pulling a sizeable mixing bowl into the light. “If you guys can roll ‘em ouit, I’ll get the oil hot.”

“I believe this is something we can handle,” Penny replied. “Izzy, wash your hands and get some flour.” Izzy and Penny both scrubbed their hands at the sink with soap and warm water, then dried them off with a nearby dish towel. Izzy hefted a canister filled with flour. Penny laid the cutting board out on the table and then grabbed a scoop of flour from the canister Izzy had carried. She spread the flour over the board with her hand. “It is best to spread dry flour out on the board first as it prevents the mix from sticking to the board. It makes the process of rolling it out so much easier.”

Izzy watched her mom set up the board and spread the flour. “Can I roll the mix?” Izzy asked her mom, wanting to get more involved in what they were doing.

“Yes, of course you can,” Penny smiled at her daughter. She was happy she volunteered to do it. The girl had appeared off since they came aboard ship. Penny was sure it was because she was in a new place and didn’t know anyone. She just needed to meet some of the crew. It would be great if there was someone her age on board, but even a younger woman, closer to her age would do nicely.

Penny watched her daughter as she rolled out the taco shells into usable sheets. She looked up at Edina, how long have you been aboard this ship?”

“About two years,” Edina replied before laughing softly at herself. “First time I’ve given it thought,” she shook her head as she watched tiny heat bubbles form at the bottom of the oil. “Guess I just kinda settled right in there. How about you?” she asked the newcomers by way of making conversation. “Got a destination in mind, or are you a pair of free spirits?”

“I’d say we were a little of both,” Penny responded, not thinking about where they were heading. “We were in a bind at that place the captain picked us up at. We needed leave, like yesterday.” Penny looked down at the work Izzy was performing. “Spread it out more, sweetie,” she said to her daughter then looked back up to Edina. “I guess I need to figure out where we are heading. For now, this will have to be home. I guess I'd like to get back to the inner planets one of these days. I have some business to attend to eventually, but that can wait.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Surviving Iceland

"You're lovely complimenting me all the time," she responded dryly to his comment without bothering to look up from her screen. She then continued to passively ignore him as she typed away on the keyboard but did listen for the updates. This time, Sophia looked up at him.

"Yes, I'm still going with you. That is my job. That, and make sure you don't fuck up," she shrugged before turning her eyes to the screen once more. Her lack of sleep combined with his shit attitude was working her last nerve, but Sophia would never give him the satisfaction of seeing her worked up. She finished up what she was doing at the time and closed shut the laptop, figuring it was as good as time as any to stop. "I'm going to take a nap for an hour or two. Wake me if you need to and don't do anything stupid."

And with that, she tucked the laptop under her arm and headed upstairs.

Backrooms: The Thing that Breathes

@Xandrya How do you mean? I'm always looking for ways to improve. :)

@Estylwen

Oh no I mean sad for the two guys, and also for their little ones. It was a great read!

Backrooms: The Thing that Breathes

Well that was an ending that left me a little broken in regards to their characters...

Looking forward to a future one!

Backrooms: The Thing that Breathes

Michelle would have done for because I got none of the riddles 🤣

Backrooms: The Thing that Breathes

Michelle looked down for a moment. "Still not used to that." With a slight shake of her head, she looked over the random set of letters. The first thing she did was attempt to establish a pattern or find any words that would be easy enough to guess, and it didn't take long. "Zpv" was "you". The next thing to determine was the first word. If didn't have any of the other three letters, so she guessed it to be "if". That made sense as it certainly flowed in a sentence.

After that, Michelle took out her cell phone as it'd be hard to try to decipher the phrase with no pen or paper, especially since she was working against the clock as the worm had said.

A few minutes later, thanks to the powers of deduction, Michelle had figured out the phrase. "If you want to move past this door, stay still. Stay perfectly still." That was more or less what she had been doing up to that point as she worked on the puzzle despite the footsteps unnerving her more with each approaching step. The instructions had been clear enough, and Michelle waited in place, heart beating so hard it could practically burst out of her chest.

"I hope I'm doing the right thing," she whispered to no one in particular, though maybe the worm would offer some insight. Was the approaching person, or thing a friendly? She wasn't prepared to find out, but she didn't have any other choice.

Surviving Iceland

She chuckled at his reaction; as if they were long-time friends. The stereotype was true; Russians loved their vodka. And this one in particular fit that stereotype to a tee, with his smoking and whatnot. Sophia was impressed with how easily Dmitry downed the amount he had poured, and that told her he had been drinking for a long time, probably since his early teens. The fact that he didn't think twice about having a drink would certainly work to her advantage later on.

"Yes, I'll go with you; it's an advantage we'll have on top of the element of surprise."

Sophia had been leaning against the counter, though as soon as she finished the glass of water, she placed it in the sink. "I'll be in there," she motioned towards the front room, that which she had chosen for a multitude of reasons. She would be more comfortable, and she'd be able to see outside. The intel she was briefed on was vague; for all they knew the target was extremely connected and heavily prepared, and it was up to the two of them to figure that out prior to the takedown. Unlike the majority of her previous missions, there wasn't going to be any back-up if things took a turn for the worse. It was just them two; and in the end, just her. Eventually, whatever they managed to extract would go back to the states with her; there was no way in hell the Russians were getting their hands on it.

A few moments later and she was on the couch, laptop positioned over her crossed legs as she began to type.

Surviving Iceland

"Yes, let's go," she responded, wondering which type of firearm was in the pouch.

Sometime later, the two found themselves in front of the safehouse. Sophia unlocked the door and waited for Dmitry to walk inside, eyeing her surroundings before locking the door again. The house itself was medium-sized, sitting on a few acres with a small gravel path lined to the small dirt road. The nearest neighbor was roughly five minutes away on foot.

"Make yourself at home. The pantry and refrigerator have been stocked up with all the essentials. Your room is upstairs to the left, at the end of the hall. Mine will be on the opposite side." Sophia sidestepped so he could see the alarm panel by the door. "I'll turn this on every night; a copy of the code is in your nightstand just in case you forget." She put her bag down, walking past him to the kitchen.

"I'll do some research for the remainder of the day and maybe you can work on our approach so we can do some recon. Unless you've been told something different..."

Sophia reached for a glass in one of the cabinets and poured herself some water. She said she'd do some research, and maybe if she found herself with nothing to do afterward she'd go ahead and take a nap as well.

Surviving Iceland

“You smoke,” Sophia arched an eyebrow, eyeballing him. Great...that shit’s gonna linger. Her expression turned even more solemn at the thought. “Thought you’d be the type to keep yourself in top shape, unless they’re cutting you slack...” Sophia was being facetious with that last bit, her expression softening as a small smile formed.

They both crossed the street, and for a moment she contemplated staying behind and wait for him, but decided against it. “Lead the way, we’ll get to the house after and make a game plan, then eventually we’ll settle in."

Sophia remembered how she had practically begged to get a partner she knew; someone she had worked with before. But such decision was beyond the control of her superiors.