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route666rp2025-06-07 04:39 pm
monstertruckers) wrote in route666rp2025-06-07 04:39 pm
JUNE EVENT LOG
Eventually, gravity behaves normally as the Convoy reaches a new region. Rivers crisscross this area, carving paths through hills and valleys alike. The vegetation has come back in earnest, after being thinned out by the thorn scrub and ragged brush. Now green grass and flowers are thick on the hills, along with scattered trees. The weather begins to cloud over, with dour skies and rain being a constant. The moon and sun alike are often smothered by clouds, making for gloomy and moody scenery in turns.
01: GAS STATION GALLOWS
Surprisingly, there’s another gas station so soon, right where the river bends. With sheets of rain coming down and the sky growing dark, it looks like the safest spot… At least until the Convoy comes in close. Bodies hang from the roof of the gas station, like macabre puppets on strings and nooses. They have long since turned to Husks with hints of transformations poking through. A message has been spray painted on the ground: “PURGE.” Under the message is a symbol of a sword piercing the moon, and a name: “Steel Wardens.”
The Convoy tries start the speakers, like in the grasslands… But something is wrong. Last month’s attacks took a heavy toll on the Convoy. Instead, the phones of various Drifters start playing the melody. A crackling transmission comes in:
“Sorry… Gotta ask this of you. Only way to help these poor bastards on their way. In return… Try to answer your questions-”
The radio cuts out after that. But if Drifters choose, they can send out a message after sending a Husk on their way. The radio will try to answer, though reception is still patchy and responses are short.
The Convoy tries start the speakers, like in the grasslands… But something is wrong. Last month’s attacks took a heavy toll on the Convoy. Instead, the phones of various Drifters start playing the melody. A crackling transmission comes in:
“Sorry… Gotta ask this of you. Only way to help these poor bastards on their way. In return… Try to answer your questions-”
The radio cuts out after that. But if Drifters choose, they can send out a message after sending a Husk on their way. The radio will try to answer, though reception is still patchy and responses are short.
02: BROKEN SHIELD
As the Convoy tries to settle down for an evening, something goes wrong. The shield flickers in and out, before popping like a soap bubble. While most of the local Husks have been exorcised thanks to fellow Drifters, it’s still a tense couple of nights.
And without the shield, the effects of the moon becomes more vivid. Some nights the storm clouds help mask the moon and dampen the call… But other nights it can break through the gloom and shine harshly on the Convoy. Drifters may find themselves spending sleepless nights wandering the Convoy perimeter… Or maybe wandering out into the wilds. Where there’s still no shortage of other monsters prowling around, and waiting to pounce on any fresh meat. A few of them may even try raiding the Convoy now that the shield is down. Some Drifters may opt to form watches during the night, or try to find some form of fitful sleep. After several nights of this, the Convoy itself seems to have had enough, with how the screens flare up one morning to show a map and repeat a message:
“Scan complete. Field Generator components found nearby. Request immediate retrieval and installation.”
And without the shield, the effects of the moon becomes more vivid. Some nights the storm clouds help mask the moon and dampen the call… But other nights it can break through the gloom and shine harshly on the Convoy. Drifters may find themselves spending sleepless nights wandering the Convoy perimeter… Or maybe wandering out into the wilds. Where there’s still no shortage of other monsters prowling around, and waiting to pounce on any fresh meat. A few of them may even try raiding the Convoy now that the shield is down. Some Drifters may opt to form watches during the night, or try to find some form of fitful sleep. After several nights of this, the Convoy itself seems to have had enough, with how the screens flare up one morning to show a map and repeat a message:
“Scan complete. Field Generator components found nearby. Request immediate retrieval and installation.”
03: POWER PLANT APPROACH
The structure in question lays in the middle of a lake, fed by several rivers. It looks like some form of old water-fed power plant, with broken wheels still turning. Approaching the power plant is possible through either precarious and half rusted bridges (travel on foot is advised!) or through fording the water. Though that carries its own risk. (See Prompt 4: Don’t Drown.)
Approach on the bridges is a risky matter. The metal looks ready to fall apart if too much weight is placed on it. Hopefully Drifters approaching this way are light footed, or have some means of rescue if the floor breaks underneath them.
The power plant also has its own defenses in the form of floating puffer fish flying above the lake, and strange elongated diving monsters swimming the depths. The Blugu attack with needles and sleep bubbles, trying to knock any Drifters of bridges into the waters below for the Divers.
Approach on the bridges is a risky matter. The metal looks ready to fall apart if too much weight is placed on it. Hopefully Drifters approaching this way are light footed, or have some means of rescue if the floor breaks underneath them.
The power plant also has its own defenses in the form of floating puffer fish flying above the lake, and strange elongated diving monsters swimming the depths. The Blugu attack with needles and sleep bubbles, trying to knock any Drifters of bridges into the waters below for the Divers.
03-A: POWER PLANT EXPLORATION
The Convoy reports say that the generator is in several components that different groups of Drifters need to find in the old building. Be warned that there’s flooding in parts of the hallways, the deeper one goes. And the water might still very well have some weird, transformative properties! If it doesn’t, there are still partially submerged hallways that reflect Drifters anxieties, regrets, and insecurities back on them. But with searching, Drifters can find generator components in the following rooms:
Boiler Room, where an old machine still shoots out super hot steam that can easily burn and scald.
Bone Room, which clearly isn’t part of the old workings, but something has co-opted this room and turned it into a collection of bones. Bones from monsters, metal bones from husks… All of them carrying sharp edges.
Cold Room, where repeated Moon Warps have turned this room into a freezer. At least the component isn’t damaged, and just needs to be chipped out of the ice?
Electric Room, which has gone a bit haywire, with stray bolts of electricity criss-crossing the room. The component lays in the center, but to reach it the electricity must be dodged or redirected.
03-B: POWER PLANT INSTALLATION
Jars:There is one more room taking up a chunk of the ruins. It is filled with jars that reach from floor to ceiling… And those jars have people in them. Or the remains of people. They’re overgrown by vines and plantlife, turned to Husks, and their heads are broken and cut open. Drifters likely have a good guess on where those brain monsters from last month came from.
Next to the jars is a monitor with a brief message: “Contact lost with----. Engaging emergency sleep procedures. We may never wake, but we need to try.” There’s a handful of people still intact in their jars… But getting too close to them trips an alarm system. Chromehounds, lasers, the works all turn on to try and drive Drifters away from the room!
Installation:Thankfully, returning to the Convoy and installing the generator pieces is easy enough. They fit together easily, almost magnetically. Anyone with a degree of tech savviness can aid in the effort, and a compartment in the Convoy opens up to help install the generator.
After this, the shield finally hums to life, and nights become a lot more peaceful.
Next to the jars is a monitor with a brief message: “Contact lost with----. Engaging emergency sleep procedures. We may never wake, but we need to try.” There’s a handful of people still intact in their jars… But getting too close to them trips an alarm system. Chromehounds, lasers, the works all turn on to try and drive Drifters away from the room!
Installation:Thankfully, returning to the Convoy and installing the generator pieces is easy enough. They fit together easily, almost magnetically. Anyone with a degree of tech savviness can aid in the effort, and a compartment in the Convoy opens up to help install the generator.
After this, the shield finally hums to life, and nights become a lot more peaceful.
04: DON'T DROWN
There’s a river that snakes through the landscape. It turns blood red during sunsets, glows with starlight at night, and is an almost hypnotic blue during the day. Once or twice, the Convoy crosses over it on long bridges. And it eventually empties into a massive lake with the abandoned powerplant in the center.
If someone chooses to ford the river or take a dip in it, something more unnerving happens. The waters go still and reflect the Drifter, no matter how much splashing is done. The deeper anyone goes, the more the reflection grows; most of the time, the reflection is some aspect a Drifter would sooner keep hidden. The river might even replay an image of something they regret.
If a Drifter gets up to their chest in the water, their reflection snaps into a monstrous form, and something pulls them underwater. When they emerge they are completely changed. This effect lasts the entire month before wearing off in dryer climates: the only way to cut it short is to take Salve from the thorn scrub, or gamble with the hospital medicines.
If someone chooses to ford the river or take a dip in it, something more unnerving happens. The waters go still and reflect the Drifter, no matter how much splashing is done. The deeper anyone goes, the more the reflection grows; most of the time, the reflection is some aspect a Drifter would sooner keep hidden. The river might even replay an image of something they regret.
If a Drifter gets up to their chest in the water, their reflection snaps into a monstrous form, and something pulls them underwater. When they emerge they are completely changed. This effect lasts the entire month before wearing off in dryer climates: the only way to cut it short is to take Salve from the thorn scrub, or gamble with the hospital medicines.
05: MONSTER SHIFT, MERFOLK
The waters of this area have one last twist; submerging imparts Merfolk traits. On top of all Merfolk traits the following is also available this month:
+Double Drowning: Merfolk with the compulsion to drown other creatures can find some very tempting targets along the river banks; horse-like creatures lingering near the waters. But upon contact with the creatures, it becomes clear that not only are they life-like machines, they rapidly disassemble into weighted nets. Or they just explode into shrapnel; either option can spell trouble for the Merfolk!
+Current Thrall: whenever the sun sets, the river currents change to something more chaotic and twisted, uncertain which way to flow. This lasts until moonrise, when they settle on flowing the opposite way. But it will be up to Merfolk to shape water or survive the twisting currents until then.
+Illuminating Light: Bioluminescence can light up the bottom of lakes and rivers, revealing the remains of Husks and almost prophetic writing carved into stone.
+Not So Dry Land: Merfolk pulled onto dry land can shape water into containers and spheres to keep them hydrated… And with some focus and practice, even give themselves a way to surf across land!
+Bigger Fish: The lakes and rivers hold their share of monsters besides the Merfolk. Some, like Mizutsune and packs of Forneus and Divers, see Merfolk as viable prey, and appetizing to boot.
+Double Drowning: Merfolk with the compulsion to drown other creatures can find some very tempting targets along the river banks; horse-like creatures lingering near the waters. But upon contact with the creatures, it becomes clear that not only are they life-like machines, they rapidly disassemble into weighted nets. Or they just explode into shrapnel; either option can spell trouble for the Merfolk!
+Current Thrall: whenever the sun sets, the river currents change to something more chaotic and twisted, uncertain which way to flow. This lasts until moonrise, when they settle on flowing the opposite way. But it will be up to Merfolk to shape water or survive the twisting currents until then.
+Illuminating Light: Bioluminescence can light up the bottom of lakes and rivers, revealing the remains of Husks and almost prophetic writing carved into stone.
+Not So Dry Land: Merfolk pulled onto dry land can shape water into containers and spheres to keep them hydrated… And with some focus and practice, even give themselves a way to surf across land!
+Bigger Fish: The lakes and rivers hold their share of monsters besides the Merfolk. Some, like Mizutsune and packs of Forneus and Divers, see Merfolk as viable prey, and appetizing to boot.
06: DROWNED SONG
The power plant shifts the further it sinks into the depths. Waters flood the lower levels, and transform the structure; industrial concrete and tunnels are replaced by ornate columns and a spacious ball room, along with an opulent stage.
And almost all of it is submerged in transforming waters. Only merfolk (or those sharing a Merfolk’s kiss) have a chance of surviving this area. Flood waters can easily sweep Drifters down into the depths. There’s even stray rivers that feed into the underwater opera from the outside.
A silent leviathan traces through the ruins, serpentine and whale like. It has no interest in the Drifters unless they float too close to its mouth and appear as snacks… But its wake generates strange whirlpools that can bash and bruise, and keeps everyone trapped in the opera house. Bubbles rise up from the floor or swirl in the whirlpools, and provide flashes of vision: a finned priestess meditating on the moon and then sinking into the depths. Said bubbles also release soft melodies of song; beware of potentially singing along, which can draw attention from the drowned machines.
And almost all of it is submerged in transforming waters. Only merfolk (or those sharing a Merfolk’s kiss) have a chance of surviving this area. Flood waters can easily sweep Drifters down into the depths. There’s even stray rivers that feed into the underwater opera from the outside.
A silent leviathan traces through the ruins, serpentine and whale like. It has no interest in the Drifters unless they float too close to its mouth and appear as snacks… But its wake generates strange whirlpools that can bash and bruise, and keeps everyone trapped in the opera house. Bubbles rise up from the floor or swirl in the whirlpools, and provide flashes of vision: a finned priestess meditating on the moon and then sinking into the depths. Said bubbles also release soft melodies of song; beware of potentially singing along, which can draw attention from the drowned machines.
06-A: SONIC CRY
An array of ornate dish shaped machines catch all sound and magnify it… And track the leviathan as it moves through the opera house, always angled on the monster. As the machines collect more sound, they echo it back in damaging soundwaves that sound like a requiem or a dirge.
The sound in turn is distorted into words that match the bubble visions:
“Offer your songs and voice to the moon… She can transform them into power, greater than anything the Wardens could ever give. Even as the old audience fears you, the moon will always listen… Such monsters are a poison. To the water. The land. The very air. They are a blight upon our world that pollute everything. We will always find new and better ways to cull, as long as they come back.”
Anything caught up in those sound waves can feel pressure and pain in their bodies, but that’s just a side effect of the crossfire. The machines are focused on the leviathan, and bringing it down now that they have ammunition. It’s all enough to seriously damage or outright kill the leviathan depending on how much noise Drifters make, or how much song is pulled out of them by the currents and the bubbles.
The sound in turn is distorted into words that match the bubble visions:
“Offer your songs and voice to the moon… She can transform them into power, greater than anything the Wardens could ever give. Even as the old audience fears you, the moon will always listen… Such monsters are a poison. To the water. The land. The very air. They are a blight upon our world that pollute everything. We will always find new and better ways to cull, as long as they come back.”
Anything caught up in those sound waves can feel pressure and pain in their bodies, but that’s just a side effect of the crossfire. The machines are focused on the leviathan, and bringing it down now that they have ammunition. It’s all enough to seriously damage or outright kill the leviathan depending on how much noise Drifters make, or how much song is pulled out of them by the currents and the bubbles.
MICRO ENCOUNTERS:
PLEASE NOTE! These are small bits of set dressing for players to include in threads if they wish, rather than full fledged prompts or events. You may handwave your exploration of these areas, or thread them out.
Boat Salvage: There’s a large amount of abandoned boats on the river, some beached and some drifting free in the rivers. It’s possible to salvage equipment or supplies from them… Just make sure you know how to swim, in case you fall overboard.
Gone Fishing Part 2: Much like the marshes in the forests, there’s spots for fishing here as well! Please remain careful with submerging in the water, as the transformed fish are still willing to bite back.
Flooding: One aspect of the river lands, especially with the waters and rains, is the roads flooding over. Some can be crossed with risk, others require routing around. Or a bit of creative bridge building.
Rain: Storms are a constant in the river lands, ranging between fog and mist, to complete downpours, and thunderstorms! It can make for somber moods, with occasional breaks of sunlight or moonlight.
no subject
But this does not happen, because the characterization of anything about his usual self as good boy is making Danse turn salmon-pink all the way down to his scales and his eyes flash as bright and robotically yellow as any Gen 2 in existence, equal parts mortified and offended and also warm enough to heat the surrounding water by half a degree. The pat to his shoulder does not help. At all.
He lets go of Deacon with a motion that he will deny counts as a shove, but is definitely more of a shove than it would have been before Deacon said any of that, and dives back below the surface, because he can. There must be another entrance to the plant somewhere, and he wants to find it, and Deacon can get himself eaten by a lurking eel or something.
After a moment, though, when he grudgingly considers the kind of threats this place might hold, and the fact that neither of them now has a gun that isn't soaked, he sighs in a frustrated stream of bubbles and pops back up a short distance away.
"I'm assuming you're here about the generator too. If you can watch your mouth, which I recognize is a tall order for you, we'd be more effective about it together than separately."
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Well, that's that. Now that he's alone, surely no one will judge him for sticking his head beneath the surface and testing a breath in... which works flawlessly, and has him shouting 'HAH! TOLD YOU SO!' aloud to noone.
Until Danse's dumb glowy head pops up again and Deacon feels more comforted by its presence than he's willing to admit.
"Why, worried you'll try to bite it again?"
He really cannot fucking help himself. But he's swimming over before Danse can dart away again, so there's at least an effort to be collaborative, here.
"Hey you're feeling okay, yeah? You looked a little... um..." How does he say this? Maybe best if he doesn't. Danse hasn't taken his discovery of synthood very well (not that maybe of them do, reasonably so), but Deacon is also not entirely sure if this is something he should be worried about or not.
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Except that he didn't, because when he doubles down on the needling, it happens again, Danse's eyes glowing an even brighter and more furious yellow as he sets his jaw and visibly works to calm his own temper. It could be bioluminescence if not for the way his irises have that same too-familiar notch in them now, looking more artificial than they actually are. Danse gives no indication that he's even aware it's happening, because, well, he isn't. Any glow he can actually see, he assumes to be coming from the headlamp, and he's trying to ignore that.
In light of that, the question is all the more embarrassing, because he can only assume Deacon is talking about making him blush, and he would almost prefer gloating or taunting over what appears to be oddly genuine concern. Why does Deacon think he needs to be concerned?
"I don't think this is a necessary discussion to have right now," he snaps, which is not really an answer, but he doesn't think he needs to give a more candid one. He's fine. "Come on." He can see a door lower down in the shallows, and he thinks they can both reach it with relative ease. He leads the way inside without waiting for an answer.
The hallways are...dry. Ish. Enough for him to pull himself over with his arms to a patch of undampened floor and sit there to shake the water from his hair, trying to dry off enough to get his legs back. It'll be a minute.
"I would ask if you had anything dry I could borrow, but after that fiasco, I know the answer already."
no subject
"Okay..." he utters, watching Danse curiously as he's dismissed, his brain still computing the possibilities and doing whatever mental file-checking it can, considering the situation. Maybe it's curiousity, the habit of needing to know every detail about everyone other than himself, or actual concern, but he doesn't dwell on it outside of a "Well, I'm here whenever you want to."
Deacon dives after him, and he's not currently equipped with the fins to keep up with Danse, but he does manage to make it to the entrance and pull himself up from the water without issue.
Seeing Danse out of water gives him the opportunity to really take in the changes. It's frankly insane to him, but fascinating. If Deacon could change shape this easily back in the wasteland, he'd be a legend. Imagine the possibilities.
"I didn't pack a skirt, anyway," he replies conversationally, taking a seat from him across the path. "I could scout forward a bit. See if there's any old sets of coveralls hanging behind a door. Kinda owe you after the whole..." he gestures back to the water. That's twice-over now that he feels indebted to Danse, the first-time being the other man's help with his vehicle, but the whole saving his life thing is kind of a big deal.
no subject
His logistics brain catches up with him mid-sentence, as he actually pictures trying to cram any part of his usual lower half into a pair of pants Deacon's size.
"--never mind." He rolls his eyes. It's not a bad idea, seeing if this place has any wearable boiler suits to scavenge, especially since he's in pretty dire need of a new one anyway, but the principle needs correcting first. "You don't owe me anything, you know. I'm not going to assume you'd have done the same for me, but I'd like to think so."
Behold, the power of grudging friendship. And of not remembering any of the times Deacon actually has saved him before, whether in the more existential 'from slavery' sense or the more concrete 'from the Institute' sense or the more mundane 'from raiders and mutants and hostile wildlife and environmental hazards on the journey to the Capital Wasteland' sense. It doesn't make him any less in need of clothing right now, anyway.
"I wouldn't complain if you wanted to look. Just be careful. I can't exactly come back you up yet if something's lurking up there."
Not that Deacon needs to be told this, but it's reflex for Danse to say it to anybody he's working with. He's too accustomed to being the one best equipped to do the protecting, and to commanding people who need the reminder. He's a far cry now from the synth who barely knew which end of a pistol to hold.
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"You can think whatever you want." he sighs, popping off a shoe and squeezing the water out of it and his socks one at a time. "I kinda just make decisions on the fly, so your guess is as good as anyone's." This isn't true, and he absolutely knows that it'll irritate the hell out Danse, which is probably why he says it. The truth, which he's not fond of speaking, is that he'd save Danse every chance he got, just as he'd save any synth (or human that he didn't deem a piece of shit) repeatedly until it killed him. Until it started to erase all the times he did the opposite.
He's standing before Danse is even finished his little 'be careful' speech, pausing only to retie his shoelaces and adjust the cuffs on his jeans so that the soggy fabric isn't dragging at his heels. He has no idea why, but these needless little mother hen lectures Danse gives him amuse him endlessly.
"I'll be fine. I'm kinda in my element down here. I grew up in a vault."
He's off a moment later, not giving Danse time to argue on the validity of that claim before he's fading into the dark halls, scavenging for whatever clothing he can find. Which when he returns, happens to be a neon-yellow (or what once was neon-yellow) safety hazard vest and matching hard hat. It smells terrible, but so does literally everything else about this place, and Deacon is wearing it anyway, apparently unable to resist a little outfit change.
"Don't look at me, I just work here." he huffs, presenting himself for a moment before removing the vest and tossing it to Danse.
no subject
With enough drip-drying and wringing himself out and a bit of awkward concentration, he's able to walk again, and with the added bonus of being temporarily free from that pain-in-the-ass wolf tail. (Literally. He still hasn't figured out how the hell to position it while he's driving, and it gets cramped and sore as hell by the end of the day.) He wasn't kidding when he told Deacon he needed something to wear, either; some people had gone into the water fully-clothed and seemed none the worse off for it in their new aquatic forms, but Danse has seen too many horrible fused things emerge from too many vats of goo in his life to trust that his coveralls wouldn't have just melded hideously into his skin somehow if he tried it.
He had left on his underwear as a concession to modesty, though, lest any of the younger drifters be passing by, and it's thus far been there as normal and not growing weirdly into his body or anything whenever he does change back. So it is now, but that's all he's got. When Deacon returns, he's standing there in it, arms folded in the most deeply unimpressed way he can possibly muster. He really, really had been hoping for some actual pants.
"Then you'll know exactly which way we need to go," he deadpans, catching the vest and grimacing at the smell and putting it reluctantly on. It's...technically better than nothing, pros weighed against cons. Maybe. Could be a draw. It comes down to his hips, and it might stop something from clawing his chest open if it jumps out at him from around a corner, but the indignity of having his ass hang out the bottom of it is almost physically painful in and of itself.
"...thanks," he adds anyway, after a moment, lest he give Deacon further ammunition to complain about his manners.
no subject
Danse's comment makes him laugh quietly, but the other man will be pleased to learn that in his brief travels, he thinks he found a pretty good path forward.
"You're welcome, boss," he answers like its nothing, keeping the hard hat on his own head. "Now follow me. I'll give you the tour."
There are a series of waterlogged hallways ahead of them, some with doorways to various rooms, one of which Deacon pulled the safety gear from, but at a certain point, their path will fork and decisions will have to be made... attempt to climb up the rusty, partially-destroyed scaffolding? Or go down, which will most likely ultimately end in another little swim.
no subject
"Oh, now it's 'boss,' is it?" The poker-face-and-sunglasses combo does its job of leaving him completely oblivious about where Deacon's gaze is directed, and he follows along without complaint, grimacing a bit at the cold slimy floor under his bare feet. Next time he swims anywhere in this miserable rainy hellhole, he'll have to pack some kind of footwear and some real pants, even if he doesn't have anything waterproof to carry them in. Nearly anything would be better than this. Live and learn, he supposes.
At the fork, he pauses. The decision, he realizes, comes down to which of them is presently better-suited to what. The scaffolding shouldn't be too difficult to navigate for the guy wearing actual shoes, whereas Danse will probably get to learn firsthand whether or not synths are immune to tetanus. The downward path will leave Deacon waterlogged all over again and struggling to keep up with the swim, and it'll mean another twenty-minute delay if Danse finds himself needing to walk again.
Still, it seems the clear choice, for safety's sake and for the sake of being likelier to lead somewhere promising. Danse jerks his head in that direction, already shrugging off the vest again because he can't stand the reek or the mildewy wet weight of it.
"Unless you have some strong feelings about climbing up that rickety thing, I suggest we head this way. I hope whatever's letting you breathe holds out."
no subject
One thing's for sure, he will absolutely encourage the packing of extra clothing for Danse, next time. The squishy sound his feet are making against the slimy floor is making Deacon's skin crawl. And forget stealth.
Danse mentions the scaffolding and Deacon merely glances up at it, and makes a sound somewhere between a nervous squeak and the sound of being sick.
"Me? Climb up there? Haha... aaaah, I'm not that insane." He looks back at Danse. "Cannonball?"
no subject
He thinks he could possibly get used to 'King Poseidon' at least a few times before it got old, and would say so, but Deacon's unexpected reaction to that scaffolding is giving him ideas that it really should not.
"You're afraid of heights," he says, with far too much glee. Oh, Danse, this is not a comparison you want to open yourself up to. He just thinks it's only fair to give Deacon a little taste of his own fucking-with medicine, just the once. It's the most wickedly excited he's sounded about anything since Deacon got his truck radio to play something decent.
"I won't rule out a cannonball if the water gets deep enough." He leads the way downward to where it isn't fully flooded yet, just enough to allow wading without sprouting fins again, though he can see where swimming is going to become necessary soon. After a moment--
"You know, in the Brotherhood we used to see who could jump from the highest spot in power armor and stick the landing." Pleasant, cheerful, informative. Just a bro sharing some facts with another bro. "It was tradition to buy a drink for whoever beat your record. Let me tell you, it was a long time before I had to pay up, but after the first time someone jumped all the way from the Prydwen to the ground, it was a whole new game."
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But this subject feels vulnerable. He doesn't like being seen. And so the rusty color of that scaffolding seems a little more reflected in Deacon's cheeks, looking just a touch displeased by it all even though he's obviously trying to grin-and-bear it.
"I'll buy you a drink just to not hear about it." he sighs meekly, following Danse into the water, "I feel sick. If I hurl, you're gonna have to swim in it. So let's change the subject, hmm?"
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"All right." And that's that, for a while. The silence isn't too awkward, he doesn't think, as they carry on downward, water rising steadily as they go.
It isn't up to his chest yet when the lights cut out. His head hasn't regrown its built-in flashlight, much as he might dislike the thing. The flicker and failure of the electricity leaves them in complete and total darkness, and the way Danse startles and staggers at this is completely audible in the sloshing of the water around their legs.
"Damn it," he hisses, voice immediately tight and tense as a wire, as he flings an arm out completely on reflex to stop Deacon from going any further.
no subject
Still following Danse, he stays quiet, not even offering a quip as the other man derobes again, or as they get deeper into the water (it may not be chest deep for Danse, but it most certainly is on Deacon). He doesn't want any more attention on him than necessary. When the lights go out, he is immediately on alert, but he is distinctly not where Danse expects him to be. In fact, he doesn't appear to be anywhere at all.
That's the bitch of it though. He'd followed Danse into the water. Danse would have heard him sloshing around behind him. There's nowhere else he could have scurried off to, certainly not that quickly and silently. But sure enough, Danse appears to be alone.
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The fact that he can't see Deacon right now, even when he can see everything else that he could a few minutes ago, is more pressing (and more frightening in its implications) than anything else on his mind. It shouldn't have been that quick, nothing that could have happened should have been that quick, but he remembers Knight Keane choking to death on his own blood in the dark on a tunnel floor like this before Haylen could even shine the flashlight over. There's nothing attacking that he can see, no ferals, no pufferfish--but drowning, too, is supposed to be silent and sudden under the right circumstances, and who knows how long that weird fluke keeping Deacon breathing was ever going to last--
"Deacon, where the hell are you?" His arm flails again into empty space, trying to a lay a hand on him as that note of fear escalates in his voice. "Say something."
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Deacon's reply is maybe a beat too late, staring once again at the glowing eyes that should not be there. He'd maybe written them off as a coincidental accessory to the lantern Danse had been sporting previously, but there do not seem to be any additional scales on his body right now.
He's quiet for another minute, wondering if Danse really is that blind in low light, or if Deacon's eyes are so used to sunglasses that it actually gives him some kind of moleman vision... which even if that wasn't a thing, he's definitely going to make it one, now. To the first unfortunate drifter that asks about his life back home, anyway.
"I'm right here," he emphasizes, just perhaps a foot to the left of where Danse is frantically reaching for him. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"
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"Why do you keep asking me that?" It makes slightly more sense now than it did before, when his nerves are still jangling from the distress of thinking some kind of silent sea monster might have dragged Deacon under the water to come for him next, but it still just strikes him as an odd question that he's missing some kind of context for, and he doesn't know what.
"I'm fine. I'll be more fine when our visual acuity is back up to standard, but I'll live. That's not the issue here. You're--"
Deacon's inability to specify why he's concerned about Danse is making a little more sense now, because Danse doesn't know how to explain this without sounding ridiculous either.
"You're not there. I can see straight through to the wall, all around. And for once, I don't think you're just screwing with me."
Though to be fair, he's not ruling that out, either.
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Hmmm... Danse's reaction to the lights going out seems maaaaybe a bit on par with the whole heights episode Deacon had earlier. He'd poke a bit of fun, but the difference here is that Danse never forced Deacon up on thar scaffolding, and so it hardly feels fair to rib him for it.
Well. At least until he's being told he's somehow see-through all of the sudden. This would alarm Deacon, except that is literally a thing he opted to do back home.
"Aw, shit... did I waste a stealth-boy??" he groans, checking his pack. "I didn't realize I even had one. Must've short-circuited. Give it a few minutes, it'll wear off."
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He ignores the obnoxiously accurate observation that Deacon's been getting to him, and opts to use his temporary night vision to keep pushing forward. It's fading already, though, as his eyes return to normal in the absence of fear or anger to light them up, though the glow lingers a moment with some catch-22 annoyance about the fact that it isn't persisting when he needs it.
"You do know those things will fry your brain tissue, right?" Thus the reason he's never used one himself, not that any aspect of Danse is built for stealth even if he were literally invisible. "Then again, that actually explains a lot."
Finally, the water is deep enough for him to push off and lift his feet off the ground, legs elongating smoothly into a tail again as they trail behind him, and angler-light glowing softly as it sprouts from the top of his head once more. It's weird, it's fucked, but it's useful. He'll take it.
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"Okay..." he can still breathe, so that's good, but... "Slight problem. Okay maybe two problems. First, you're a hell of a lot faster than me. Don't rush or I can't keep up."
He kicks behind him, going his best imitation of some kind of mutated amphibian. "Second, uh... the Stealth-Boy should have worn off by now."
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At least not about the swimming. He pauses, floating with his arms folded disapprovingly, looking in the general direction of Deacon's voice and not remotely managing to make anything resembling eye contact.
"This is exactly the kind of thing I mean when I say modulating field technology can't be trusted. The effects are cumulative. I can't think why that would be making it last longer, but I wouldn't put it past the device to make that possible, and god knows what else it's doing besides."
He continues downward, expecting Deacon to follow, and expecting the conversation to carry on as well. As much of a killjoy as he might be right now (and always, honestly), he does at least make an effort to swim more slowly, though it's not easy when his tail wants to propel him more powerfully.
Outside, the afternoon has turned to evening, sun gradually beginning to sink. In here, the lights remain inconsistent, and time feels pretty meaningless.
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Deacon goes silent.
Where Danse can't see, he starts panicking. Very suddenly, the water that he's been miraculously breathing through as if his head was surrounded by a bubble is flooding into his mouth again. He manages not to inhale too much of it, but his body still instinctively wants to cough, and he struggles in the water. A hand lashes out to slap and grab at Danse's tail, and Deacon begins to flicker into view again, clearly choking on something.
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All of that completely ceases to matter, flying instantly out of his head, as Deacon finally snaps back into view with horrible deja-vu. It's an entirely different awful thing to see him kicking and flailing like this when he'd been unconscious before, and a sickening additional wave of fear sweeps through Danse as he realizes he hasn't been paying attention to where the ceilings are as they swim downward--he doesn't know if there's enough clearance to get Deacon's head back above water in time.
But he tries, anyway, grabbing Deacon like before and shooting upward with a strong thrash of his tail, and finding that there's just enough room to surface. A few more yards forward, and there wouldn't have been.
He's slightly breathless himself now, from the exertion and the emotion of it, and he doesn't let go of Deacon this time. He looks back down the way they came, knowing it won't be easy to retrace with ordinary human breathing capacity, and the way forward, which would be impossible.
"Shit," he says finally, with appropriate gravity.
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Not that this is the current problem. That would be the lack of air in his lungs.
But Danse moves quickly, and before he can succumb to the depths he's being dragged through the water. The moment they breach it he gasps harshly for air, coughing again, his hands pressing to his face to adjust his glasses once more... because that's a priority.
"We have got. To stop meeting like this." he rhasps, deflating slightly. There's not really anything available for him to rest against but Danse himself, but given his predicament, he doesn't think the other man will mind the way he sags a bit and bunts his head against him until he's breathing normally again.
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The flippancy helps. It's normal. He'll take it. He holds himself carefully still, spine stiff and muscles tense, but he's trying to be helpful in that sense, an anchor in the water.
"All right," he says, trying to organize his thoughts tactically here, even if he still sounds a little scattered. "Our best bet is to...try to recreate the conditions that made it possible for you to breathe up until this point, even if we know now that it wasn't a permanent solution. If it works again, it'll buy us time."
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