Darren stared as a soldier garbed in black moved forward, rifle aimed up at him from where he stood on the outpost's wall; he approached from the Mutant's left, but there were many more, arrayed across the swaying battlefield, waiting for their chance to strike. Fear erupted in him as he considered the stakes. This was it. It was now or never, and lives were on the line.<br/><br/>He blinked, shaking himself roughly as a sinister tune broke through his immersion. It was strange, the way no one else in the room seemed to be scared shitless by the sound - it was like a march of death, if death was brought about by polka players in the dead of night. Darren returned his attention to the table with an effort, and felt momentary surprise upon finding himself staring down at some rocks. That was right, he was playing checkers. At long last,<span style="font-style: italic">checkers</span>. It had been too long. He stretched out a hand, flexing his fingers thoughtfully over a piece; if he was going to win this thing, he needed to establish his position. He needed gain whatever advantage he could. Sweat trickled down his temple as he took a deep, shuddering breath, and with a small sound of determination he moved a piece on his right, mirroring the exact move made by Viktor. Yes, this was a good start.<span style="font-style: italic">Good job Darren, you brilliant motherfucker.</span><br/><br/>He heard Viktor's request and abruptly realized both of their glasses were empty. He stared at them for a moment, and then for several more moments, before reaching out with lightning speed and nearly knocking the thing over as the room briefly reared up behind the other man like a ship riding a massive wave. "Yeah man… I… this music is like, ice. But you can like… hear it," he said sagely, one of his eyelids drooping as he sloppily poured out two more drinks.