exsiliumlogs | [closed] being an adult is tricky business

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[closed] being an adult is tricky business

Date & Time: Very early Saturday morning
Location: House of Weird Old Soldiers (Unit 510)
Characters: Nathan Summers, Nikolas Kamarov, Raiden
Summary: Nate wants pancakes. Domesticity and eccentric supersoldiers are a weird mix.
Warnings: Swearing, maybe mentions of TRAGIC PASTS if they get chatty

Hiding out in his little workspace for the better part of a week had done wonders for Nate's mood and his productivity, not to mention his mental defenses. He had network access in case anything major happened, and while a camping mat on the floor wasn't exactly luxurious bedding, it was a hell of a lot better than a lot of places he'd slept in before.

Still after awhile, central heating had it's allure. And he'd recovered to the point where any lingering headache from the psi strain was well and truly gone, and he wasn't picking up stray thoughts from anyone else wandering in to scavenge during the days. His new roommates seemed largely inclined to keep to themselves, though with how often he'd been out, he couldn't really claim to be much better. But there were no teenagers, and that was a decided improvement.

Unfortunately, nicer beds didn't actually do a whole lot for his insomnia. Which is why he was fully awake at six in the morning, testing out the electric griddle he'd found in the ruins and repaired, with pancakes.

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All through the business of fighting giant, bipedal tanks, being turned into a cyborg, combating knife fighters and exotic women who seemed to be immortal, Raiden had never once questioned his sanity. Now, however, looking out over Exsilium from his crouched position on a rooftop he began to. He felt as delirious as he had on the day that the AI GW had gone into its death throws and tried to take him with it. This was England, he knew that much, but not his world's England. This was a place that had seen enough war to be burnt into an empty shell of what it once was. It was a world that had access to many others, some Earth, some not, all stacked upon each other in vertical geographies of chance. Or, at least, this was the case if he was not hallucinating.

What has happened to me? he wondered to himself. If he truly was a raving lunatic imagining all of this, however, then he didn't really want to know.

Nanomachines might account for the seemingly immortal, the Patriots and their manipulations could create monstrosities like Metal Gear, but what accounted for trolls? Or fairies? Fairies did not exist. The first time he'd seen one here, Raiden was almost certain that he was losing his mind. They were creatures from the story books, wispy beings of imagination. After seeing his first fairy, Raiden started stepping lightly wherever he went, afraid that a heavy footfall might cause him to plunge through this tenuous reality and into the blackness beyond it.

That had been weeks ago. Feeling the roof under his feet now, it seemed real enough. The wood was weathered by time and war, the wind blew through his hair carrying with it the smell of old ash. If this was nothing but a fever dream then it was the most vivid one he'd ever had. No...he had to be here. This had to be real. He was standing here now, right? Alert, awake, and even sober (losing everything from his molars downward had a way of killing his desire for any substance, alcoholic or otherwise). The Initiative had him.

What if I get lost here? What if I never find my way back home? He searched for an answer.

...So what if he didn't? So fucking what? Solid Snake could surely handle things from Shadow Moses. He had backup and, even with the weight of years upon him, was a legendary soldier. Was Raiden even an effective protector? Or more of a burden? He hoped Snake would be okay. Nothing else back there called to Raiden, not anymore. He was a creature of war and that was all he would ever be.

He sighed-a dry, rustling sound-and hopped down from the roof landing nimbly on his toes in the cobbles below.

Now and forever a prisoner to proxy wars.

With this dark thought, Raiden pulled his leather duster more tightly against his torso and wandered back to the apartments.

Once he had climbed the stairwell to the fifth floor he picked up the scent of something cooking and he wondered who had such a busy schedule that they were awake and making breakfast at this hour. The smell led him up to his own door and he found himself hesitating before turning the knob and stepping inside.

And there was Nate, hanging over an old griddle.

Raiden turned his head to the side at the sight.

"Morning."

Edited 2013-05-19 18:57 (UTC)

Nikolas had already been awake for some time when he heard movement in the kitchen. Having spent nearly half his adult life living on an orbiting space station, time had long since lost most of its meaning to him, and even here, he spent more time than average awake.

Part of it was habit. He'd gotten used to a general lack of sleep in the army, and things hand not been much better once he'd joined Stormwatch. People rarely called ahead to see if it was a good time to start causing havoc, after all. The rest could probably be attributed to having been unceremoniously dumped from his world into this one.

Not that there was much of a difference, to be honest. There was a distinct lack of a giant shift-ship half buried in the city, but otherwise, one decrepit, post-apocalyptic city was much the same as another. At least here, Jackson wasn't around throwing tantrums and provoking him at every turn. He wasn't sure if he trusted the Inititive at all, but what they proposed, at least, sat a little better with him than someone who used to be a friend thinking they could use him as a weapon of mass destruction. He was willing to give things a shot, anyway.

He sat in his room for a little longer, before finally letting his curiosity get the better of him. Someone was cooking out there, and he couldn't for the life of him imagine which of his roommates might be doing it. Neither seemed the type, but the only other option was that someone had broken in to make breakfast, which was simply ridiculous.

He was busy pulling his hair back into a passable ponytail as he found the source of the cooking smells, looking between the two men in a slightly baffled way.

"Did I miss a memo?"

Maybe they did this sort of thing here. He didn't want to judge.

Nate didn't bother glancing up when he heard the door open and felt Raiden enter the shared apartment. "Good morning." Out of his two new roommates, the cyborg was definitely the one he understood less, and he had to wonder where exactly he'd been that he was coming in this early - but then again, he had plenty of secrets of his own, so he wasn't one to pry.

He did glance up at the sense of Nikolas's bafflement and the sound of footsteps. "No memo - sorry if I woke you up." He still wasn't entirely used to living with other people again in close quarters - too many years of solo operating, or it just being him and Hope.

Raiden looked back over his shoulder as Nikolas stepped out of his room and felt a stab of annoyance rise up in his chest.

He was not expecting the apartment to be so busy at this hour.

"Didn't think you guys would be awake," he sighed in his rusty voice and turned his head away from his roommates as she shrugged off the leather duster.

Well, this was all slightly awkward, wasn't it? Although given the circumstances, Nikolas supposed that was simply a given, and not anything he himself had done. They'd all been tossed together completely at random, after all.

"No, not at all," he replied to Nathan's comment first, and then shrugged a little. "I do not sleep much," he added by way of excuse for the earliness of the hour. He'd spent most of his life keeping nothing that resembled 'normal' hours, and when you could absorb literally any form of energy available, recharging the old-fashioned way wasn't as much of a necessity.

Nate gave Nikolas a wry smile. "I'm pretty sure the only times I've slept more than four hours straight in the last decade were after being knocked out." Which happened to him rather more frequently than was probably healthy, but at least there wasn't any brain damage - that showed up on scans, anyway.

"Should be enough here if either of you two want some. I was hungry, so..." He shrugged. He was still reveling a little in being able to have food, to cook whenever he wanted. The last future he'd been in had kind of sucked, in that regard.

"There's some 'orange' juice in the fridge, though I'm pretty sure they just dug up the recipe for Tang and relabeled it."

Raiden shook his head at the offer for food, his gaze never meeting that of either roommate.

"No, thanks," at this he lifted his claws and tapped his throat meaningfully, then walked into his room to put his coat away. The room was spartan, with only a bed and the fractured frame of something that had recently ceased to be a mirror. He looked mournfully at it and couldn't help feeling a little guilty about putting his fist through it. The original owner might still be out there somewhere, and might have wanted it back someday. Who knew?

When he stepped back out into the common room he immediately started to busy himself with cleaning though there was little to be done when the three of them were seldom home at the same long enough to cause much clutter.

"If you are offering." Because life had taught him not to turn down food if it was being offered. He kept an eye on Raiden as he moved through the apartment, more out of habit than any paranoia actually related to the other man. If he wanted to pick things up, who was he to judge, after all.

"Tang is... an American beverage?" Something to do with astronauts, maybe. He wasn't sure.

...Well. Nate hadn't intended to make that moment as awkward as it had become, but it was there now, and the best he could do was just smooth over it. He'd have to make it up to Raiden later - it wasn't his fault the other man was touchy, but they did live together, so it was best to not let these things get out of control. But probably also wise not to do it in front of Nikolas.

He slid some of the fully cooked pancakes off the griddle and on to the plate he'd put out. "Yeah, it was invented by NASA for space missions or something, but -" He shrugged. "- America markets everything it can. It's not bad, but I don't think it's ever seen a real orange."

"I see," he nodded slightly. That definitely sounded like Americans, to him. As individuals, they tended to be nice people, but he'd give the country as a whole a pass.

"Well, I have certainly faced much worse than fake oranges before."

Raiden looked up momentarily from his cleaning. He felt like he had to offer something here, it seemed rude to just be busying himself and ignoring the two men he now found himself living with.

"Tang is horrible. Don't drink it."

His voice carried a note of attempted playful humor, but it fell short of its aim. He had a lot on his mind tonight.

"I can pick up something better next time I'm out, if you want."

If there was anything better in what was essentially a post-apocalyptic army barracks. He had his doubts.

Nate didn't bother looking up from the griddle. "Tang is fake, but it's not that horrible. Masks any weird flavors in the tap water, anyway." Which he was fairly certain was drinkable, but given the condition of the lands around here, he placed zero bets on it being anything more than that.

"Got coffee, too, but that is a preciously hoarded commodity, and not to be used lightly." Never mind that he'd had nearly half a pot by himself this morning. It was his coffee, damnit. "Not sure when I'll be able to restock - though next time we get sent back to a decent time, I'll see about getting some juice concentrate or something."

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[closed] being an adult is tricky business

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