There's a reason Deacon prefers a battlefield with a bit more cover. He's not sure what it is that eventually takes him out (likely a sneaky bubble from behind), but it hardly matters when he's suddenly so drowsy that he feels his legs crumble beneath him and then he's suddenly dreaming of floating in space.

Talk about worst fucking nightmare. Nothing more open than space. Nothing more stomach-churning than looking down and seeing an ity-bity world beneath him. Did he just wet himself? Feels like it. Feels like he wet himself all over.

He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound escapes. Nothing. He can't breathe; which like, obviously, SPACE and all, but this really isn't how he thought he'd go.

Then, something is pounding at his chest. He hears a voice. Is that... Danse? Something bright behind his eyelids. A mouth on his, inflating his lungs like twin balloons. He chokes, coughing up water as his eyes crack open and through his blurry vision, the only thing he can make out above him is a glowing monster-shaped creature. A mangled noise leaves him and he headbutts (mouthbutts? let's not use that word...) the creature, it's fangs catching on his lip until there's a trickle of blood and Deacon is scrambling backwards, nearly slipping into the water again. No-- he's slipping into the water again.

There's a splash and while he's definitely awake this time, his body is still in the act of gasping for air, which he's surprised to find isn't a problem. He sinks lower into the water, looking about himself on high-alert, but in his panic, realizing he can breathe just fine. What the fuck. There's just one problem: He's not the best swimmer in the world. That'll happen when taking a step into water usually means soaking up enough rads that a ghoul would consider it a spa-day. Oh, and he has no idea where he is...