sixthiterationlogs | i got two hundred seconds

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i got two hundred seconds

WHO: Ty Rhodes and you!
WHERE: Bunker, Peach Orchard, House #15 in the South Village
WHEN: Around 9/30
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None, TBA

[BUNKER ARRIVAL]
The sound of water rushing past him was what woke him initially, but like some kind of paralytic lucid dream, he was sluggish at waking. Which was odd, considering Ty was usually fairly alert as soon as he was awake, but he had difficulty even opening his eyes. Then there was the sudden sensation of falling, and hitting the unforgiving ground.

Groaning, he opened his eyes, vision blurry for a few moments as he tried to get his bearings. The last thing he remembered was heading home, snow crunching underneath his boots, mind racing a thousand miles a minute but this-

Gingerly, feeling returning to his limbs as if he’d been asleep for a long time, he reached up to wipe the water from his eyes. He ran his hands through his hair to keep it from dripping more liquid into his face, undoubtedly spiking it up in odd directions as he tried to slick it back.

It took a few heartbeats to figure out he was in some weird laboratory looking room, apparently he’d been stuck in a tube up until now, and whoever was standing at the console was the one to let him out. Or put him there in the first place.

“Thanks, I think.” His voice was rough with disuse, scrapped a bit raw. “Think I could trouble you for a towel?”

[PEACH ORCHARD]
Though there seemed to be communal resources, going for those first felt like some sort of failing on his part. He wanted to have something to contribute before he took anything, and unfortunately here it didn’t seem like he had anything from home. And while he was grateful the pack had given him clothes, he was a bit disappointed there hadn’t been one tool in there for use.

So instead he’d decided to forage, taking a few test bites of the peaches to make sure they weren’t anything strange. Quite the opposite, it seemed like eating them made him feel better somehow, so he was stuffing a few into his backpack when he heard someone approached. He had looked around the orchard to see if anyone was tending to it, but it had seemed like it wasn’t really anyone’s. Perhaps he’d made a mistake?

Slowly he raised his hands to show he didn’t have anything in them but a peach, turning his head to address whoever was coming up.

“Sorry, is this your land? Didn’t mean to trespass.”

[MAKING A HOUSE A HOME]
While Ty had some trepidation about using the communal resources for now, turning down shelter would just be shooting himself in the foot. Especially since he had no real tools to call his own and he had always been susceptible to cold.

It was a bit creepy to put roots in a house that looked like it had been abandoned for a long time, but it gave him something to do while he came up with a game plan for this place. In an effort to help out his mother, he had gotten in the habit of keeping things neat and tidy, so airing out the house, trying to combat all the dust and cobwebs, and checking to see what was in working order kept him from panicking too much, initially. He was here, he might as well make the best of it. And be on good terms with the people who lived nearby, considering he had no idea how long he was going to be stuck here.

He was in the process of beating all the dirt out of the linens, the blankets draped over the railing of the front porch, when he finally saw some signs of life in the neighborhood. He waved and called out a good morning to anyone who passed, before covering his face back up with his sleeve, and going back to work.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The waves do some of the work, carrying him in from the pod; it’s gotten too cold to make the swim, but enough of the canvas boats survived to ferry people back and forth from their shifts. It’s maybe the first time he’s used it as more than a sled, and paddling with the single oar had taken some getting used to. Not trusting the canvas to run aground without tearing, he drags against waterlogged jeans and boots to stow the folded boat in the last house before the shore, ready for the next person heading in to watch the tubes.

Someone had come through on the shift before his, and he’d passed his own stretch ducking into other rooms, taking notes. His sister’s name on the list had seeded that old anxiety, a will-they-won’t-they tick in the tempo of his heart.

He doesn’t want her here. He doesn’t want any of them. It was a list of the dead, and too many names repeating.

The lists in his notes demand he follow up, but later. While not an overnight shift, the sun is far enough along that he’s missed all of the morning, probably more than one hot meal. With a deep breath, his physical stretch stretches it into a yawn, and he angles west toward the grove– a couple of late season peaches will last him to home.

Dragging his wet feet, eyes adjusting to real light and blinking away screen-fatigue, the back and shoulders are just a back and shoulders. Just someone already picking up fallen peaches, and Kira finds a stick to break underfoot to announce his approach.

Funny: even stripped of prescience, he didn’t think this place could surprise him.

“You’re not–” trespassing– “here. You’re not here.”

A beat: he stares. The familiar face does not resolve into someone he does not know. He does not wake up.

“I’m not doing this right now.” He turns an invisible corner and stumbles back toward the path in his heavy boots.

Even though they hadn't seen each other for years and when Ty had returned, were tentatively getting their friendship back on track, Ty still considered Kira one of his best friends. So while he couldn't say he was too surprised at that reaction, it was still exasperating. Hadn't they just done this song and dance not too long ago? Did he really have to do it all over again?

Usually, he would let him go and let Kira get his self-control back in place, but he wasn't too savvy about the layout of this place yet. There was a distinct possibility that if he let him go now, they wouldn't find each other again.

"Hey! Wait up!" Ty quickly zipped up his backpack, jogging after Kira, reaching out to grasp his arm to slow him down, before thinking better of it. "You really know how to make a guy feel welcome. You can't even say hi?"

He wasn't too offended, not really, and he tried to get a better look at Kira's face so he could see he was mostly teasing.

Definitely some kind of hallucination, definitely not someone who just recently got a look at this place. Fuck knew that that lily he'd carted home did, how it worked; who knew what else the Observers might do to fuck with him. Mold in the bunker ducts, the flash of neurons before he unwittingly drowned in a broken pod.

Or they'd just--do this. Give the coat, hide the samples, scrub the name from the list. Fucking Redacted written into a blank slot, no names underneath. No point in including them except to show that they hadn't. Never any answers, never anyone for him--

A fucking year. Ty the last thing he saw before he woke up in the fountain, bedridden and pale, sweating out a fever that wouldn't quit on its own. Here he is acting like Kira snubbed him at the fucking corner, and there's no bus or train to dodge into and away. Stomping on his own foot, Kira pulls out of his boot and kicks it backward, right at the sound of that voice. "Do not even think about touching me, Jesus Christ. Go away."

"Are you-" Before Ty could even finish that thought, that sentence, Kira was actually kicking his boot at him. He caught it without blinking, a bit surprised by the hostility that Kira was exuding, but without knowing the cause, for all he knew, he could just be mad that Ty had scolded him for not getting out of NYC. It was best to wait for it to blow over with Kira, so he held the boot in one hand, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched his best friend stalk away, with one shoe, an eyebrow raised.

Some days he had to wonder if the theatrics and dramatics that went hand in hand was necessary, or just an excuse.

"It's nice to see you too." He muttered, shaking his head.

This is some kind of nightmare--and does he mean Ty, here, after a year on his own and both the smell and stain faded from the jacket? He's only glad he didn't wear it today: he doesn't take anything from home into the bunker, like there's something worse about it than home, like it could swallow them up.

Or does he just mean this: the weight of what it means to see Ty's face, healthy and without guile, a copy of a copy of a copy--

And he's just here, picking peaches, because the sky could fall and Tycho Rhodes would give him a look like ha, you see this shit? Then go pick up the pieces. Is it a nightmare because it caught him off guard, and he can't actually just leave him here? A dozen paces on, leaning to his booted side, Kira turns to look back.

He told Karen the blood was a misdirect, and fuck--it feels like a kind of violence to see him so shiny and new. Didn't even put the old scratches back on, and he drops a look to Ty's hip, but from the way he's walking--it's probably fine. Probably didn't even fucking happen.

Kira covers his face with his hands, rubs at his eyes, sighs. "Ty, please bring me my fucking shoe. I'll walk you back."

While Kira was battling with himself over something, Ty was going to take out the peach he had been testing, biting into it carefully. While he couldn't say that he was too thrilled to be in a backwards village whose main charms were that it had running water and a peach orchard, so far nothing terrible had happened.

The idyllic and peaceful nature of this place made him restless and a little guilty, especially considering the chaos he'd left behind. He should be back in NYC doing his job, and he had to wonder if this was just another weird Division test. But why bring Kira here? Was it because he'd revealed his mission to him when he wasn't supposed to? Or because he'd put family and friends first when he'd tried to help people evacuate?

Either way, he was going to do what he could and worry about the rest when he had more information.

Once it seemed like Kira had made his decision, he trotted over to him, holding out the boot obediently enough, still snacking on the peach.

"Sure." Where Kira was going to walk him back was irrelevant, considering Ty would more or less follow him to the ends of the Earth. More importantly: "What's going on here? You come in through the tubes too?"

Kira kicks the other boot off, hangs them both from their laces in one hand. With the canyon gone, and the narrow passage no longer an issue--he'd rather his cold feet on the dirt path than soaking in his socks for the long walk. The chill of his wet jeans on his ankles was a welcome distraction, a sensation sharp enough to ground him without becoming all he could focus on.

"No," he answers, then has to reconsider. "Yes, maybe. The tubes lead to the fountain, most of us came out of that."

His chin twitches, a glance to Ty, wondering how much he's seen. Most people wouldn't take him to the shore and leave him there, if he'd been taken out of the bunker before Kira's shift.

Whatever he might have done, meeting him there, he doesn't want to think about. Everything is worse in those concrete halls, in that blue lighting. Maybe Karen is right: they should look somewhere else. He should pull out of his shifts and try the snakes again--at least then he'd know he was seeing things.

He looks down again, boots idling at his thigh, Ty more than tall enough to catch the hook of a scar under his hair. "I've been here for a long time. A year that I know of, more that I--that I don't think any of us can be sure about."

"You're going to catch a cold." Ty said, sounding more like a mother than an actual medical student, but he didn't stop Kira as he took off both of his shoes and kept walking. He had to wonder if he was watching some sort of strange break down, if Kira was on drugs, or if this was just some stage of dramatics he had never gotten to before. They'd been away from each other for a long time. Long enough for Ty to get perspective, maybe.

He nodded at Kira's answer, wanting to ask more about the tubes and bunkers, when he mentioned how long he'd been here, Ty's eyes widening in shock.

"A year? I just saw you-" He wanted to tell him that was impossible, he'd literally just saw him five minutes ago, that if this was a joke, he could let up. But Kira wasn't meeting his gaze, and Ty let that sink in, heavy as a stone. A whole year. While the village seemed like a fun exercise to Ty, it was probably the exact opposite for Kira. This place was stripped of everything that Kira enjoyed, and to be here a year-

"I'm sorry." He wasn't sure exactly what he was apologizing for, not being here or for treating this like a joke when it was rapidly becoming apparent it wasn't. Especially now that he was looking, really looking, he was seeing enough to distress him. "Is that from here?" He gestured vaguely by his ear, feeling sick. The scar looked old, and it was in a dangerous place.

His fingers tighten on the laces of his boots, making them turn slightly, tap against his thigh. Arrivals are hard. Arrivals are harder because he's bad at them: no patience, a scabbed over wound of disappointment, thinking he wanted this and not getting it. Unfamiliar face after unfamiliar face, and this is worse.

He's shiny and new and he doesn't know.

He doesn't know how new he is. He doesn't know what--did or didn't happen, doesn't know what they recreated or just assigned Kira, even if he was still in it. Kira stops walking and lets Ty catch up, pull enough ahead to look in the eye.

This is not his fault. He's not even real--Kira isn't either, but here they are, comparing how much of a past they were given to work with. "No. You didn't see me, and that isn't from here. This is from here." Lifting his sweater and shirt, he shows some of the lingering marks from his fall through a treehouse floor.

"Ty," he asks, smoothing his shirt back down: "I need you to tell me the last thing you remember. Before the tubes."

When Kira finally slowed to a halt so Ty could see the expression on his face, that ruled out the drugs theory. Kira's pupils looked fine, his face was pinched, and he looked so damn tired that Ty had to fight the urge to just tell him that they could sort this out later. Like they did with most important things.

He couldn't stop the small hiss of sympathy pain that escaped him when Kira lifted up his shirt, and he took a few steps forward to get a better look, eyes narrowing.

"What the hell Kira?" Because nothing he was saying was making sense. And those marks had looked ugly and gnarly, Ty flicking his gaze back up to Kira's mouth drawn. "You should be getting that treated. How long ago were those from?"

Because that was more important than trying to make sense of whatever else Kira was talking about at the moment. Here or there could be sorted out later. But Kira being hurt should be addressed now.

In the moment, he's not sure why he showed him: some real and permanent consequence, some sign that his body is real even if everything else seems up for debate? To drive something home, to--to hear that concern.

Or had he hoped Ty would reach across, put a hand on them?

Kira swaps his boots to the side between them, hangs his arm close enough to pull the fabric down at his hip. "Months ago, they're fine. I'm fine. Answer the fucking question, Ty."

"Did you not get them treated months ago? Because that's what it looks like." Ty argued, mulish. He was used to Kira's whiplash moods, and it rarely bothered him to coast along with them, but the tone Kira used on him was new. He raised his eyebrows, a bit surprised, straightening back up to his full height since it seemed like Kira didn't want him near him.

"Stopping those looters from stealing your parka from you." Which, quite frankly, was more fuel to the fire now that he remembered, Ty's mouth tightening in annoyance. "What were you still doing in New York anyway? You were supposed to be long gone." And safe, but instead it seemed like Kira had picked up the habit of being everywhere he was supposed to.

"No, I did not--"

Kira stops, makes himself start again, manages a series of steps and puts his free hand over his sinking face. Ty should know the answer to that, he should not be sitting on the edge of that fucking argument, again, and--

"It's your fucking parka," is the correction that makes it through, his throat closing up against the tinny feeling in his chest. Tines vibrating right on his sternum. Four months is enough time that he has to think about how long that was, a full year between that end and now. The last Kira thought Ty was dead, that he'd never made it back. Ty--this Ty--didn't get the full programming either. Maybe none of them ever fucking do.

Four months is enough time for a lot of things. Four months isn't the sum of them, but it's an important fucking piece.

"I didn't fucking go. I didn't get on the helicopter, it got shot down, they locked us in. And now we are here, and I am not trying to stand here and defend some shit I did or didn't do sixteen months ago to you."

Ty had thought, erroneously, that having someone from home as a lodestone would be useful. That it would help ground him and give him some comfort. Instead, being here was making even less sense than Ty thought possible. A bit frustrated, he started to pace back and forth, restless. When he was given problems he couldn't solve or when situations got to be too much, going on runs or doing something with himself helped clear his mind and helped him focus. There were well worn tracks in his house and at the Akiyamas where he would pace in circles until he found his solution and broke out of it.

"You're not making any sense." Ty said, far more calmly than he felt, his mind working a mile a minute. He was relieved that Kira wasn't on a helicopter that had gotten shot down, but what about the rest of his family? Hadn't Kira said he'd been here a year? What was this sixteen months business? What was he talking about when he got one scar there and not here? And he would have laughed if this situation wasn't so serious that he felt the need to fight him over a parka Ty hadn't seen in ages.

"Can we do this somewhere else? Preferably somewhere you're not going to get frostbite." Ty was cold just looking at him, and maybe walking somewhere would help him try to make sense of all of this. "I'm all the way at the other village. Where are you staying?"

Now he's getting it. The pacing is at least a sign that things are sinking in, that Ty 2 or 7.0 didn't ship without all the nuts and bolts attached. Sane enough to feel some anxiety about the facts, such as they are. Himself enough to pace a little circle while he thinks about it.

Fuck, but it's weird to stand next to that again, and know it's also the first time.

This is the first and maybe only Ty he, this Kira is going to get. He doesn't want to do this any more now than he did back by the peach trees. "I'm not going to get frostbite," he huffs, looking toward the nearest houses. "And it's a long walk back, everyone lives on the other side. We can walk and talk or we can borrow a house, but stop--momming me, Jesus."

"Sorry, I can't hear you because how many times have you been injured since I last saw you?" Kira could say it'd been sixteen months all he wanted, but for Ty it still had only been five minutes. It was his homecoming all over again, where people had filled him in on what he'd missed, except less hilarious and bittersweet and more horrifying.

He started towards the houses nearby because he wasn't going to make Kira walk all the way back to the other side, annoyed and sick with worry. This place hadn't seemed so dangerous, but Kira bore the marks to prove otherwise.

"Start from the beginning. What do you last remember before coming here?"

Kira stands his patch of ground, watching Ty's little circle suddenly wind him out toward a house. If he's the dramatic one, they swap places for the cold: it's warming up from fifty-something, easy, and Ty would rather wear a circle in a wood floor than just walk.

He should let him peel off and just keep going. There are stores enough at the house he could go a couple of days without leaving it--but almost anyone Ty asked would be able to point out where he lives. Bad plan. All plans are pretty bad, where he's concerned, which is probably why the answer to the question is more than once.

Act first, let the chips fall. Kira trudges past the house Ty's made a line toward just to be contrary, and slips into the next one over. It's colder inside than out, the closed space gaining nothing from the sun. By the time Ty follows through the door, Kira's pulled the hatchet from his bag, offers it handle-first. "Break down a chair for me, we can light the stove at least."

Answers, well--those can stay on the shelf for later. Cannibalizing furniture for warmth isn't as much of a non-answer as Ty might think.

Even though a good chunk of time had passed since they had last seen each other, it was comforting to know that Kira was still mostly Kira. Being contrary just to do it was almost endearing, if he wasn't already so annoyed. Asking Ty to do physical labor wasn't new either, but the fact that Kira carried around an axe. He accepted it with wide eyes, turning it over in his hands as if he couldn't believe it was real. The Kira he had known hadn't carried anything heavier than his phone or deck of cards, so this was... Something.

He did as he was told without comment, running the things Kira had said to him over and over, like those words were a crumpled piece of paper that needed to be smoothed out to reveal an actual message.

"What else do you have in there?" It seemed like a neutral topic, and necessary to get all the little distractions out of the way before they really sat down and hashed this out.

He doesn't carry much more than the cards if he can help it: a lighter, a photo, certain vials of certain possible persons' possible blood, stolen from a bullshit wall of samples. If there's someone to foist the pack on, he will; if there isn't, well, better if everyone underestimates him for as long as possible.

"A firestarting kit, for one." He stares at Ty from under raised brows, nodding at the chairs around the dining table. They'll break down easy, and should be easiest to replace if someone moves in.

Which is a distraction within the distraction of the question, taken up in both hands. Doing something is really the only way to clear his head, and if Ty drags the moment long enough, he might take the ax back and try it himself. For now, he pulls Tony's little case from the bag and sets it on the stove, opening it to remove a wax and tinder pellet. Underneath it, he finds a jar of goldbells, kept on hand after the incident with the snakes.

All they need's a kettle and some heat. "Get your shit together and I'll make some tea."

"Handy." Ty said, not quite sure what to say in the face of this new and odd Kira who carried firestarting kits, axes, and scars like they were no big deal. He gathered up the chairs obediently enough, hefting them into a nearby room just to keep it tidy and give them both some space. He lined them up neatly, smiling despite how... off this whole situation was when Kira said he'd make tea.

He couldn't count how many times he'd been to the Akiyama household, where tea was the answer to a good number of things. Upset? Drink some tea. Feel like you were getting sick? Drink some tea. Need to relax? Drink some tea. And Mrs. Akiyama could make some damn good tea.

He made quick work of the chairs, bringing the wood next to the stove, leaning the axe against it. While he knew he was the last person who could judge anyone for not wanting to talk about something, communication had always been their biggest problem. They could talk about anything random, but the important things they never addressed. Ty had been willing to let it go when he was younger, but now he knew better.

"Did your family get out okay? Is anyone else here?" He at least had the comfort of knowing his family was safe, but the Akiyamas were family too.

It's not just the lost year, guiding Kira's hands, informing his flat stare in the face of what now hardly seems adversity. Make fire, need wood. At least in the village they can make as much noise as they want, can move between buildings without fear of being shot or stripped of supplies.

Ty--this version--doesn't remember New York, either. Four months of sneaking and scraping, four months of living past his expiration date in a situation he'd never prepared for. A situation he's started to wonder--if it was just to prepare him for this.

Maybe it was just included, to prepare him for this. At that point, they at least shipped Ty to the village with his training. It's almost familiar, if at a year's distance, to listen to Ty chop the chairs to pieces at his back. That it's only familiar to one of them, trying to get a fire going in a squat, making tea on a wood burning stove out of what he has on hand--Kira is trying to deal with. Kira is trying not to lose his shit, the way he had when the wound on his side was fresh.

It's been a day. If no one else saw fit to tell him, Kira's not dropping the nature of their existence into his lap. His hands busy on the kettle, filling it in the sink. "Just me, here. No one else we know. But my family got out before you even found me, I assume they went to be with my sister; I don't know if they made it to the other coast."

Kneeling at the stove, he lets Ty pass him the pieces, arranging them beneath the grate. "I remember up to February. It was almost over."

It was a relief to hear that the rest of the Akiyamas had made it out, Ty's shoulders slumping as he grinned happily at the news. Once he had gotten activated, there hadn't been much time to think or check up on loved ones. Everything had been chaotic, and it was still a blur despite the fact that he was here now. Maybe that was part of the problem. He'd been torn from one chaotic situation into another, without any real way to process either of them.

"That's good." He said finally, before quirking an eyebrow at the vague answer. 'February' didn't really tell him much, but that it had taken four months to contain the aftereffects of green poison was pretty impressive. It had seemed like an insurmountable task, at the beginning.

"So what happened? Was a cure found?"

"I don't know," he answers, nothing to undercut the honesty. No reason to withhold, quiet as it made him feel inside to think about. With where they'd found themselves, with this strange place and its strange systems--who's to say it ended at all? Who's to say they hadn't briefly lived the end of the world?

"Nicky just said you clearing the Darkness Zone. That we were getting a handle on New York. Maybe it was just that part that was over, I never found out."

He never got to leave. He never even saw Chiyo's campus outside of Facebook updates. Manhattan, and this place. And it's here he perfected building a fire, in a wood burning stove. Settling the broken spokes and legs, he takes up the flint and steel, striking them over the pellet until it lights. Using the steel, he nudges it under the wood, stays knelt at the grate. "You really just--you don't remember any of it? Just the beginning?"

It was surreal to watch Kira light a fire like it was nothing, like he had done it a hundred times before. The Kira he had known would have made him do it instead, or would have complained the whole time. It was an odd disconnect, and with each little idiosyncrasy, it forced to Ty to believe what he was saying was true. They were from different time periods, this place was dangerous, and it had forced someone like Kira to carry an axe with him. It was a lot to process, and he felt tired at the thought.

He squatted down next to Kira to watch him work, allowing himself a moment to feel lost. He was torn between being proud that Kira had survived just fine on his own, and also a bit saddened.

"I really don't." He paused, turning to face Kira with a small frown. It seemed strange he kept asking, because it wasn't like Ty would lie. "What aren't you telling me?"

He'd trained himself for years: drank and smoked and snorted whatever made it okay, for people to be close to him. Whatever made them not so loud, whatever kept the lines of them from blurring with his own. No more personal space, no more holding the world at arm's length--not physically, anyway. Here in the village, he doesn't need it. No powers, no impressions of people. He has to know them the old fashioned way.

He should know Ty better than any of them. He should be used to Ty, up close. When Ty frowns at him, he can't help the hand reaching up, touching his eyebrow. It's hard to see, but he can feel the little blunt ridge of a scar.

He has not lost his mind enough, to ask to see Ty's hip. How is he the one with all the scars? The knowing he can live with. Knowing too much was his whole shit deal in life. But it was never history. He puts his hand down and blows across the bottom of the stove, stirring the flames higher. He pushes himself up.

"Me? When do I ever tell you anything? There's a whole book of shit that explains it better than I could."

i got two hundred seconds

Peach Orchard

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