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The scenario he finds himself in is nothing short of absurd. ( Which, in a way, is only fitting for this world that they’ve found themselves in. ) The smell of smoke and gunpowder fills Chishiya’s nostrils, ash taste on his tongue, but the world has gone eerily silent. He waits before he crawls up onto his knees and then up onto his legs and stumbles through the rubble and grey smoke. There is an abnormal uncertainty in whether to attribute the silence to the after effects of being so close to his homemade bomb going off, from the lack of gun-fire and screams, or if the world has truly gone that silent. Any of them seem possible, though logic favors the first option. And that was without factoring in the possibility of shock that resets probabilities a small percentage. Both acoustic shock and acute stress responses could cause temporary deafness or audio distortion. Fortunately, hearing isn’t the sense he is relying on most in the moment as his eyes sweep over the area.
Notes to take from this experience: homemade bombs were likely to be more powerful than one would expect. Even with a rough idea of its contents, there were other factors that could amplify a predicted outcome. Pressure in the can changed by heat or being dented, or likely several other variables that Chishiya knew and maybe some he didn’t. Regardless, this explosion had become something that had been powerful enough to bring down a series of older buildings with weak foundations. That part had been part of Chishiya’s intent when he’d thrown the explosive towards the buildings rather than directly at the approaching King of Spades. Throwing it at the king had a risk of it being detonated midair by a bullet or avoided entirely if the King had seen it. This plan had a statistically higher chance of success with its indirect method. Not to kill, even if that would be an ideal outcome, but to topple the buildings to prevent or dissuade pursuit in his direction. The King of Spades could overcome such a barrier, but it would be easier for him to go after people running on the same side of the rubble where he was than chase after Chishiya. If fate willed it, everyone might benefit if the King of Spades was stalled and buried under the rubble. Injured or immobilized would be better, but that was a stretch to imagine. Chishiya didn’t care about if for the sake of the other players so much as for himself, but they have their uses – if only by serving as distractions.
A deep droning noise thunders overhead, both offering reassurance his hearing is still present and undamaged, and drawing his attention towards it. Chishiya tilts his head upwards to see that the king’s silver blimp is still hovering in the sky, face card flapping around in the wind. It was an omen as large as the solar eclipses that had struck dread into the civilizations of old. Predictable in the fact that Chishiya had no expectations that their opponent would die from something as simple as his explosions or the rubble regardless of if he was trapped or not. Not the King of Spades. Not here in the Borderlands.
Lingering was as much of a death wish as gathering in a large group proved to be. His lungs burn and there’s an unfamiliar ache in his legs and side – lactic acid buildup in muscles unfamiliar with running or extensive intense movements in a short time period. At least according to traditional teachings, though recent research suggested it was accumulation of hydrogen ions and inorganic phosphate that caused muscle fatigue. Chishiya has no intention of participating in that study if it should ever come his way. Not a chance.
He slowly begins to move through the rubble and around a ruined car only to feel something wrap around his ankle, forcing him to stop by it nearly tripping him. It strikes Chishiya as something more fitting for a movie than real life. His eyes flick downwards to be greeted with the sight of a makeshift bandaged hand gripping him tight, nails digging into the nerves and thin skin of his ankle like a bear trap, refusing to let go and offering no escape to Chishiya other than self-mutilation. Or breaking the wrist, but then it becomes a challenge of who can hurt who faster. He doesn’t need to see more of the arm to identify who it is. He knows, because the man was practically crushed against him when initially ducking for cover from the King of Spades in a twist of cruel fate. Not that Chishiya believes in such a concept, but if he did, it would feel as if fate was determined to force their paths back together again and again.
That, and he’d recognize the taste for animal patterns anywhere, tattered as they might be.
The smoke clears and rubble shifts as Niragi lifts his head like a ghoul crawling out of the underground tunnels to lock black, beady eyes with him.
“ Don’t think you’re going anywhere or getting out of here, Chishiya. “ Niragi drags out his name with a hiss, crescent moons from his nails deepening on his ankle while he glowers up at him.
Chishiya knows that Niragi does not have a gun anymore – at least for the time being. He’d noticed that detail immediately when they’d both been crammed into the same area to avoid the king’s line of sight while he came after the groups nearby with his black shadow of death. If he had been carrying a gun, he’s almost certain Niragi would have tried to kill him first – King of Spades or no. Almost, because Niragi is irritatingly unpredictable in moments that Chishiya attributes to high emotional reactions. Chishiya would have taken the opportunity to kill if their roles were reversed, but that was because logic was his sword and shield. Niragi didn’t always follow the rules of logic.
Even in that moment it had been strange to see Niragi without his signature rifle in the same way it could rain while it was sunny. Both sun and rain and Niragi without his gun were able to be logically explained, (fire and falling, gun lost somewhere during the fall or plunged into the watery depths), but it no less odd for that fact. Niragi had nearly always had it with him at The Beach to the point it had become an extension of the man. Wolves had teeth, Niragi had his rifle.
Now he has nothing with him. He’s like an animal stripped of its claws and fangs. Niragi is still not helpless. Chishiya knows better than to assume that and anyone who believes otherwise is a complete idiot. Niragi will have to adjust his playing style to make up for it but he knows Niragi is determined. Niragi might not like it, he will complain about it, but he will do what he needs to. Chishiya could almost admire it, if not for the fact he found it both absurd and infuriating. ( But not appalling, not the way he often internally sneered or looked down upon those who struggled with ever fiber of their being for their goals. He does not choose to assess the why behind that. ) Niragi is weaponless which decreases his immediate threat level for the time being alongside with his radius of danger. A radius that shrinks further given the state of his injuries. Chishiya has no doubt that Niragi will get his hands on a gun when he is next able to and he will need to adjust that threat level accordingly when that happens. But the radius hadn’t mattered when they’d both been unlucky enough to be in the same spot, scattered apart only in the effort to move and the shockwave of the buildings collapsing.
Chishiya reconsiders the possibility of stomping on Niragi’s wrist to force him let go. But his own limbs are heavy from the limited burst of high physical activity he had just pulled off and he can feel the adrenaline drop right around the corner that urges him to move before it hits. Not to mention the fact that he doesn’t have the right leverage or angle to be able to pull it off. Human bones were contradictory both easy and hard to break. He settles for staring at Niragi, expression empty while the man glares at him.
“ Either help, or we both die here. “ Niragi’s words aren’t a bluff ; he will kill them both so long as he doesn’t go down alone.
Chishiya’s lips press together in a firm line with cruel disinterest. “ Who says I won’t let that happen? “
Niragi makes a horrid laughing noise between his hacking coughs, like Chishiya’s told the funniest joke he’s heard in a while. “ Because it’s you. Even if you don’t give a shit about living – despite what your little homemade bomb might indicate – you’ll still want to win. To see what happens. “ He sneers, blood and saliva dripping from his lips. “ You can’t stand to lose. “
He regrets asking that question when the answer makes him feel like the flesh has been stripped from his bones. No. Not just that. It feels like even his very bones have been split open to expose the soft, spongey bone marrow within them and Niragi was picking them clean.
It isn’t so much about the winning, not entirely. But Niragi is still right. He can’t stomach the idea of losing like this. He wants to see the after, chasing ghosts and phantom trails. Looking for an answer that he’s grown more and more certain of that even this world cannot offer him. Not medicine, not surgery, not life and death games. Maybe there is no answer for him.
The blimp above is still far too close for comfort and he wants out of the battleground to rest and recover. The longer he stands here, the more of a target he might become and the higher risk of the drop hitting. Just because the King went the other way for now based on the fading screams in the distance doesn’t mean he won’t turn around and come back. Especially if others hide and he stays here in the open streets.
Chishiya’s cold eyes stare down at Niragi.
Niragi is physically weaker now. Slower, weaker, body failing him more and more with each passing hour. Adrenaline has melted away like his skin, minimizing the risk of Niragi deciding to pull off a physically demanding attack, but Chishiya is still confident that Niragi is strong enough and determined enough to strangle him if he tried. ( Confident too that he would have when they crossed paths if they weren’t driven into defense by the king and his hailstorm of gunfire. ) Niragi’s physical use for anything significant is severely limited and he’s further reduced in usefulness without his signature gun. He wouldn’t be entirely useless. Niragi’s will to survive is stronger, he still has his brain, and having two people looking out for the blimp and the king it heralds is better than one.
Chishiya doesn’t answer, but he does turn and shove some of the debris off of Niragi and watches as the man drags himself out, death grip on Chishiya’s ankle moving to his leg and then his arm – unrelenting and stronger than what Chishiya thinks he logically should be still capable of. It should hurt Niragi to have to move like that but Niragi doesn’t make a noise other than the same strained breathing from his damaged lungs that he’s been making. Chishiya’s conclusion is there must be extensive nerve damage on top of what he already knows of Niragi having a high pain tolerance to cause such silence and lack of complain. Damage so deep the body can’t register it correctly. ( But Niragi does feel pain, Chishiya’s seen it. Which suggests a built-up tolerance. Chishiya suspected trauma. )
He stays still as Niragi hauls himself up and practically props his entire body up against Chishiya. He’s lucky that Chishiya had expected that or they’d both have gone right back down to the ground. Niragi’s weight is heavy and uncomfortable on him, but not so much that Chishiya can’t stand or move. Likely because Niragi is still supporting some of his own weight. It’s not kindness, just practicality. If Chishiya can’t move, then they’re both done for. He’s still somehow strong and determined enough to stay on his feet – just with the assistance of an unwilling Chishiya.
Immediately the close proximity surrounds him in the clogging, sickening smell of burnt flesh and smoke that still clings to Niragi and the patchwork of fabrics he’s draped in. That, or the smell has seared itself so deeply into Chishiya’s brain to the point his brain’s synapses have correlated the smell with visual image from memory. Maybe a little of both. Chishiya shifts himself and after a moment, reaches to grasp the far side of Niragi where the burns are less intense and shielded by bandaging. Niragi has been smart enough to cover the burns and under the smell of burnt flesh he reeks of a cacophony of mixed chemicals that reveal at least an attempt at care. More than the average person could or would do. Chishiya can pinpoint the distinct scent of a couple of the medicines used, but other scents he can’t tell if they are individual medications or the smell of mixing chemicals. That is significant less smart, the mixing of random items, but necessity can drive one to desperate risks. And more likely than not, the chemicals will only help or do nothing rather than hurt. It was rather rare for there to be any interaction issue between topical treatments. ( Oral medications were another matter, but he suspects Niragi took nothing or very little for that other than basic painkillers if he had managed to find them. )
“ Alright. “ Niragi bares his teeth in a grin like a fuck you to the whole, ruined world. “ Move. “
Chishiya has half a mind to shove Niragi off for the audacity to issue a command, but if the tightened grip on his shoulder says anything, it is that Niragi expects that. Chishiya doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything either. He grits his jaw and tightens his grip before they slowly start to shuffle along as some sort of deformed unit. They aren’t trying to run, just get out of immediate sight before the adrenaline crash hits them both. His sights are set on a small, dark brick building squished between two large buildings, easily missed with how the shadows fall from the taller buildings and the slow descent of the sun. It’s a perfect temporary refuge, and fortunately it isn’t far away. It doesn’t take them too long, though between Niragi’s sluggish movements and Chishiya’s checking towards the blimp, it takes longer than either of them would like.
Inside, the stairs are a nightmare to try to navigate, but it isn’t optional. The first floor would be easy to look into if someone did notice the building and equally as easy to sneak into without being noticed. Chishiya settles for the third floor when the second floor is locked, and abandons any idea of going any further with how the exhaustion has his limbs trembling and Niragi is fairing worse with how he spits out another mouthful of blood to the side. They both nearly collapse when Chishiya swings open the door and they stumble into what is clearly someone’s apartment above their shop.
Niragi kicks some of the clutter out of his way as they stumble through the hallway and sink down to the dusty ground in the living room, legs refusing to take either of them any further. If Niragi wants to crawl on his hands and knees to the old, worn sofa on the far side of the room he can; Chishiya refuses to do something that demeaning. The cushions on the ground are good enough. Niragi doesn’t move though either, just sprawls out on the ground hacking up a lung with his rough coughing.
Maybe he should abandon Niragi here. His limbs, however, refuse to entertain the idea and soon enough Niragi’s coughing quiets and fades.
The silence is eerie. Outside Chishiya could blame the silence on the explosion and its shockwaves, or the gunfire stopping. In here the silence is only because they’re both willfully choosing to be quiet. No barbed words, nothing but the sounds of their labored breathing and blood flow in their ears.
Chishiya hates it. He doesn’t know what to do with it when Niragi is in it.
Niragi breaks the silence the same way he’s broken bones. Fast, uncaring to what anyone else might want.
“ Next time you decide to play with homemade bombs, “ Niragi rasps, chest heaving with the effort as he slowly pushes himself upright, leaning on the nearby table to support his weight. “ – think about the fucking blowback. Where the fuck did you even get that thing? “ Niragi grumbles.
Chishiya barely refrains from rolling his eyes as he stares up at the shadows and the hunch of Niragi’s figure. “ It’s not like I deal with bombs on the regular. “ Or ever until here. “ I made it. It’s mostly basic chemistry and some engineering. “ Chishiya has never taken an engineering class, but he had found books here in the Borderlands before The Beach. Things like traps, explosives, whatever might be useful in some sort of dystopian world with lasers and technology that worked when the games were happening but never otherwise. Couldn’t hurt to read it he’d figured at the time; he’s glad he did.
A broken snort leaves Niragi as he shuffles to sink onto the couch. “ You decide to make bombs on a whim? Figures. You would do something like that. “
Niragi would know. He’s been on the receiving end of Chishiya’s creativity.
“ Flamethrowers too? “ A sneer, exhausted venom that tastes diluted rather than concentrated.
Chishiya allows a taunting smirk. “ No, just a spark of creativity thanks to you. “
Niragi glares at him – it reminds him of Alexandre Cabanel’s The Fallen Angel. Sans the tears but all the promise of retaliation.
Chishiya holds Niragi’s gaze for several moments before he turns his head to stare up at the ceiling. His limbs and eyelids feel like lead and his mouth is dry. The adrenaline drop is something he’s not particularly accustomed to, so pairing that with more physical activity in the last thirty minutes than most of his activity here in the Borderlands combined? The bells are tolling for the cost on him. Everything says to not move and just rest.
Ridiculous. As if he’d ever rest when Niragi was with him even under the best of times and circumstances, much less now.
Slowly he drags himself up to his feet and feels Niragi’s eyes burrowing into him as he meanders his way over to the nearest window and peers out. The blimp has moved further away and continues to slowly inch across the grey skyline as the king pursues those players with almost religious fervor. Maybe it was exactly that, who was he know? All he knows is his early suspicion was right that they were not going to be pursued for now.
Chishiya shuffles towards the small kitchenette, opening the creaky, white cabinet doors until he finds one with a few bottles of water inside. It’s a small stroke of fortune alongside everything else that has occurred to their survival. He’s not sure how many people actually kept bottles of water in their homes these days. He grabs one of the water bottles and moves back to sit on the small bench by the window to keep guard. Niragi doesn’t ask for one and Chishiya doesn’t offer. He cracks it open and takes a few sips, feeling how it soothes his throat before he stares outside. He just needs a little while to recover and then he will disappear. Niragi will take longer to recover in his state now that Chishiya can see the meager remains of adrenaline disappear from the ex-militant. Chishiya will be long gone once again once he can move, leaving Niragi with nothing to chase but phantom steps.
That is the plan until the whole plan gets thrown out the window.
Chishiya’s eyes open with a start to find himself in a world of darkness. It feels like being doused in cold water, his senses instantly straining as he immediately tries to take in his surroundings. A task that proves itself almost impossibility thanks to the unfamiliarity of the place and next to no outside illumination. He straightens and feels the ache of his muscles from the awkward, uncomfortably position he’d evidently fallen asleep in but that is far from his mind. Outside the world is dark sans the slivers of moonlight poking through patches of clouds, and inside . . .
Inside, against all odds, Chishiya hasn’t been strangled, maimed, or killed.
Niragi is still here. He doesn’t have proof yet, but he knows. Instinct.
He scans the dark shadows of the apartment until he finally spots Niragi’s frame outlined by the shadows. He’s still on the couch, now splayed out along the length, but he has a water bottle. Chishiya reaches for his and makes a correction. Niragi has his water which has unsettling implications. Niragi had been next to him and Chishiya hadn’t woken up. Niragi could have strangled him and didn’t. Could have done lots of things and had only chosen to take his water and nothing else.
Niragi is so still and the room is so quiet that Chishiya wonders if he’s the one dead instead of Niragi or anyone else. Chishiya slowly climbs off of his spot by the window to creep closer to Niragi, muscles tensed for any sudden movement. Niragi’s chest slowly rises and falls, and closer up he can hear the faint whoosh of wind in each breath. Not dead then. Chishiya’s eyes lift to study Niragi’s face, but his eyes are closed and there’s no sneer or snarl, nothing but a strange calm that seems out of place on him. ( And yet . . . )
Chishiya’s gaze lingers a moment too long before he stealthily moves back towards the kitchen to grab a couple of the bottles of water still in the cabinet. The rest are left behind because of his limited capacity to carry anything else with him. Nothing more. He grabs a few snacks that are catch his interest and shoves them into his pockets too before he quietly makes his way to the front door.
Everything still aches, but Chishiya’s not intending to stick around any longer. He has too many questions already for why he’s still alive and unharmed when Niragi had an opportunity to change that. He’s gambled enough with whatever this tentative truce with mutual recovery had been. It’s time to disappear. There are games to clear.
Something weighs on him right between the shoulder blades. When Chishiya glances back, he swears Niragi’s eyes are open and staring at him from the darkness. His hand lingers on the doorknob for a moment, staring back. Watching. Waiting with a breath that sits unmoving in his chest. Niragi says nothing. He exhales slowly. Chishiya swallows and after a few seconds too long, he twists open the door and slips out into the shadow-draped staircase. The door clicks shut behind him with finality.
Chishiya doesn’t look back when he goes down the flights of stairs and exits the building. He doesn’t look back even when he feels the sensation of a too familiar gaze on him again or his mind whispering about the window that faces this side of the street. He refuses. He moves with purpose down the street until he can disappear into the darkness. Tomorrow he’ll have a plan to play a game tomorrow and he will forget this ever happened with Niragi and that will be that.