After some time in his room, giving the group a chance to take what they wanted before leading everyone out and locking up, Viktor decided to head to the lounge and get some much needed rest. With his gear off, he felt more relaxed than he had the entire previous few days. It was heavy enough as is, but with all the shit they'd been doing, it only ended up feeling weightier on him. He was glad to be free of it, at least for a while, and decided it was time to relax a bit.<br/><br/>After locking up, he made his way through the halls of the base. The warehouse had been almost entirely reconstructed on the inside, and while the interior walls were a bit thin, rooms made from shipping containers, wooden planks, and sheet metal alike gave it a varied, lived-in feel. It was far from the empty building that had been come across in the distant past, and was a proper place that the Stalkers could call their home. Viktor made his way back into the first room, the lounge.<br/><br/>Couches and tables spotted the area, while a bar had been set up to sell drinks to those who weren't about to go out on business. And after that last mission, did he ever need a goddamned drink. He approached, leaning onto the wooden tabletop as he eyed the selection behind the counter. It was all very familiar homemade things. Moonshine, vodka, and that syrupy-tasting concotion one got from boiling and fermenting the toxic sap of Redwood trees. That was a popular one. He was about to call for the bartender's attention before a younger Stalker approached, setting a box of bottles next to him.<br/><br/>Instead, he looked it over, taking interest in a tall bottle filled with a liquid that resembled whiskey, but was marked with a label around the neck that depicted a mushroom. It was clearly hand-drawn, and the quality of it was left to the imagination. But it was something new, and the things common around base got old after a while. Looking up to the deliverer, he asked a simple question. "Hey, what's in that bottle?"<br/><br/>The courier looked down, confused for half a moment before an answer came out. "Oh, that's some extreme shit, boss. I don't think anyone is supposed to-"<br/><br/>"Dibs." Viktor snatched the bottle up, drew a few rubles from his jacket's breast pocket, and passed them off to the Stalker before he could finish. He also grabbed a pair of small glasses from the bartop, then strolled off to find himself a seat.<br/><br/>"...Drink that," The other Stalker finished. With pursed lips, he considered going after Viktor, then just shrugged and picked the case up after his arms got a bit of rest. "Doc's not gonna be happy about this," He quietly mused, entering the door that led to the base's infirmary.<br/><br/><br/>Darren stretched, feeling even older than he actually was, as he stared at his handiwork. It was a good tent, not particularly large, but it didn't look like it would be falling over any time soon. The Stalker he'd requested it from had given him a dubious stare, but after a moment the young, redheaded man had simply shrugged and brought it out for him. He understood his confusion; it wasn't normal for a person to choose camping outside in this kind of weather, given the option to remain indoors with the sane people. But then again, since when was Darren normal in<span style="font-style: italic">any</span>capacity?<br/><br/>He unzipped the flaps and threw in the sleeping bag, and was wondering if he should give the squishy blue roll a test-drive when he caught movement at the corner of his eye. He turned on the spot, leaving behind the small home he'd erected for himself in a dark corner near one of the base's warehouses. It was a woman, a Stalker, one he'd never seen before.<br/><br/>She was fairly young, especially compared to him, with platinum blonde hair long enough to just barely reach her shoulders. She had an average build and was strikingly pretty - most noticeably, though, was a disfiguring scar running from the center of her right cheek down to her jawline. He stared out at her for a moment, and she paused, obviously in the middle of doing something important. She looked back at him for a moment, and he took a step towards her, a broad smile on his lips, before she abruptly turned and walked away, moving faster than before. It reminded him very strongly of when he'd first spoken to Liliana. Hard to believe he actually used to be a ladies man.<br/><br/>"Well shit," he rasped out loud to no one in particular, as he once again regarded his tent. Maybe a nap wasn't a bad idea after all. Then again, it was a very long time since he’d had a drink. And given all the activity of the last couple of days, the timing probably couldn’t be better.<br/><br/>He eyed the nearby entry into the warehouse, deciding he wanted to pay a visit to that bar he'd seen on the initial way in. He limped through the doorway, eyeing the bar; before making his way over, he noticed a familiar face at once of the tables near him.<br/><br/>“Viktor! Lovely day, eh Boss?” he asked, smiling as he regarded the Stalker who’d led him out of the Underbelly.<br/><br/><br/>"That's one word for it," Viktor answered, returning Darren's smile. Lovely wasn't his first choice of word, but hell, at least most of them were alive and they'd made it back to safety. "Want a drink?" As he offered, he put a glass forward, and poured some of the dubious liquid into them both. It didn't smell too bad, with a sort of pleasant earthiness to it that suggested a nice feeling of warmth despite the actual temperature of the bottle after being delivered through such cold weather. After he returned the cap to the bottle, he scooted it toward the side of the table and took his glass, giving the liquid a smell.<br/><br/>As well as the mushroom on the label, the bottle contained a few caps that settled on the bottom. Viktor didn't recognize the species, but figured it was just a fancy garnish of sorts, as the bartender sometimes added to things that the Stalkers drank. Normally, they weren't fungus, but he wasn't complaining. Viktor took his glass and took a sip from it, and evidently, approved of the taste. It wasn't quite like anything he'd had before, and honestly didn't taste much like alcohol. There was barely even a burn going down. "Hm, not bad. Gonna need to figure out what this stuff is called, make a double order next time."<br/><br/>He leaned back to relax in his seat, unzipping his jacket a bit. The warming feeling of having a stiff drink was inevitable, and he was wearing enough layers to give someone a heat stroke. Between the heavy military jacket and the turtleneck worn under that, he was almost more well-insulated than the base's actual walls.  "So, what's up?" Another sip was taken after the casual question, after which he felt a little funny. Not drunk, not after a mere two sips, but...different. His expression changed for a moment, brows furrowed a little, and he cleared his throat just the slightest amount.<br/><br/><br/>"Shit, that's what I came in here for," he rasped as he sat heavily down across from Viktor, noticing an ominous creaking of his chair as he did so. "Thanks for the offer. I only just realized I can't even buy myself a drink, lost the last of my funds playing dice with some kid in the Underbelly. Little bastard cheated, I know it," he added as he raised his glass, sniffing the contents with a curious expression. "Looks kinda like scotch, smells a bit like dirt, but… hey, here's to you, man," he said, raising the drink slightly before taking a sip. He swallowed, surprised by the lack of a burn, and stared back into the liquid, intrigued. "That's smooth, man. Like, really smooth. You have good taste, friend," he said, as he followed up with something closer to a gulp than a sip.<br/><br/>Darren had a fairly high tolerance, but impossible as it was, he actually thought he was starting to feel something. It must've been quadruple distilled to be so strong, yet, if that was the case he was sure it would've scorched all the way down. Then again, he wasn't even sure if what he was feeling was even a buzz - regardless, he decided he liked it. Even with only a hooded sweatshirt on his torso he was starting to feel a bit warm; he could only imagine what the poor soul across from him was going through.<br/><br/>He mirrored Viktor's movement, lounging back in his chair, and grinned contentedly as he swirled the contents of his glass around. "What's up? Well, nothing, and that is both great and confusing. This is a great place, feels safe here, and I can't thank you enough for bringing my scarred ass to it. But It's strange not having anything to worry about for once. I'm sure I'll get used to it though," he croaked as he stared amiably around at his surroundings. "If I'm given the chance."<br/><br/>He let one of his hands drop below the table, and he felt something bulging in his pants. There was a moment of confusion, then he remembered that he’d absentmindedly stuffed his makeshift checkerboard into a pocket while setting up his tent. He drew it out and flattened it out onto the table’s surface, which was now swaying slightly, for some reason. He didn’t know if he intended to play or not, or if Viktor would even want to, but it just felt like the right thing to do.<br/><br/>“Up for it?”<br/><br/><br/>Viktor raised his drink as well, just for that spirit of celebration. That, and having someone dedicate a drink to his honor was amusing. Letting such an opportunity go to waste would be a damn shame. "And to not getting our asses killed out in that shitstorm," He added, taking a drink as well. The smoothness was still odd for what was apparently alcohol, but it made it easier to down a bit more.  But that larger drink only intensified his feeling of oddity. He blinked a few times, somewhat slowly, but brushed it off as fatigue and simply not being used to the drink yet. It would fade soon enough, probably.<br/><br/>He laughed a little at the other man's explanation, finding it oddly humorous. "Yeah, man, no problem. That part can take some getting used to. You should see the rookies that come in; greener than grass and constantly afraid that something's gonna knock the walls down and collapse the whole warehouse down on us. Takes them weeks to finally realize they can calm down." There weren't any conveniently-placed new Stalkers to put onto the spot for the sake of an example, as far as he could tell, but then everyone else started to look a teeny bit fuzzy from where he was sitting.<span style="font-style: italic">Yeah, definitely fatigue,</span>he thought, shaking his head a little. If he didn't sleep well after all they'd been through, he'd be pissed<br/><br/>"What's that?" Viktor asked, curious about what the sack of stones was as Darren moved it towards the table. His answer came soon enough, though. A check pattern and a collection of fairly uniform rocks in two colours showed off the intentions as a game, one Viktor enjoyed playing whenever possible. Finding a fully intact set was hard these days, but homemade ones in the vein of Darren's weren't terribly rare in some establishments. Hell, a game sounded great right about now. Taking another swig, he reduced his glass's contents to about half, then wriggled out of his jacket, letting it hang over his chair's backrest, then began to gather the black stones toward his side of the 'board.' "Yeah, let's play."<br/><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">"Yeah, let's play." </span></span><br/><br/>The words echoed, as if being spoken from within a cavernous space, but Darren ignored it, nodding happily as he began gathering the smooth white stones towards his side of the makeshift board. The board itself was starting to act up, hitching itself up in several places when he wasn't expecting it, but aside from the occasional startled jump he handled the bizarre behavior fairly well. He didn't remember the cloth being able to move, but he'd seen stranger things, he supposed. He felt a dryness spreading from the back of his throat to the tip of his tongue, and so he quickly downed his drink before pouring more for himself and Viktor, stopping halfway through to wait for the room to stop churning quite so violently. He was<span style="font-style: italic">sure</span>he wasn't drunk; he'd barely finished one glass, after all, but there was no denying the strangeness of what he was experiencing.<br/><br/>With an effort he finished moving the pieces into place and squinted up at the man across from him, blinking rapidly as he struggled to keep things in focus. "Your move, Stanker. Stalker. Sorry. This shit is-"<br/><br/>He stopped, gaping at the bottle in shock. "It's got munchrooms in it? That's… that's incredible!" He smiled toothily at the sight; it was a wonderful thing, drinking mushrooms, though he couldn't exactly explain why. Maybe it had something to do with nature. Yes, that was it. Nature was fucking awesome.<br/><br/><br/><span style="font-size: 130%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">And then their game began. And <a class="postlink" href="https://creativefreedomrpg.com/viewtopic.php?f=80&amp;p=342313">this is what they believe happened.</a> <br/><br/><br/>This is what actually happened:</span></span></span><br/><br/><br/>As Viktor finished the last of his remaining drink, he began to arrange his side of the board, lining up stones on the spaces on the cloth. He looked distressed and a little sick, his already pale skintone becoming a tad sickly as sweat started to bead on his forehead. His stomach churned uncomfortably, nauseous and on the verge of vomiting, and goosebumps covered his skin. Still, despite it all, he managed to make a few moves, lightly nudging one of the stones on his side of the board forward.<br/><br/>He attempted communication with Darren, trying to ask for another drink, but he just lazily waved a hand in the general direction of the bottle and grunted.<br/><br/><br/>Darren panted, feeling very hot, and somewhat claustrophobic as the game stretched on. He felt a dry heave, and then his throat flared up, parched - he looked at the bottle, but it quickly became three as he reached for it.<br/><br/>He blinked, then squinted, and finally managed to pour out two more drinks, though a great deal spilled onto the table. He turned back to the checker game and felt his head rushing to meet the table. He stopped himself right before colliding with the checkerboard, but then the game itself quickly became an indistinct haze of stones and cloth.<br/><br/>He went to tell Viktor it was his turn to move, but all he managed was to stare at the other man and make a small choking sound, jerking his head at the table as he clumsily took another drink, spilling half of it on himself.<br/><br/><br/>Viktor seemed to understand the vague gestures well enough, and as his hand hovered over the checkerboard, he stared into it with a deep intensity. His brows furrowed and unfurrowed repeatedly, and he blinked with an uneven pace, going for minutes without any blinking before a sudden influx of rapid ones. He put his hand down in an attempt to grab one of his checkers, and instead just sort of patted the cloth, then stared up at Darren. There was a strange focus to the stare, cut off suddenly when he averted his gaze and covered his ears.<br/><br/>Resting his head on the table, he clapsed his hands over them at first, then let his forehead hit the tabletop, squeezing his ears shut with his general elbow area while his hands grasped at the back of his head, one in particular instinctively grabbing a handful of hair and keeping a tight hold.<br/><br/>But just as suddenly as he reacted in fear, suddenly everything was good. He sat up again, smiling vacantly and not really looking at anyone or anything.<br/><br/><br/>Darren screwed up his face as he watched Viktor covering his ears; he suddenly became aware of something bad, though he wasn't sure what it was. He fell from his chair, covering his head up, enveloping it in his arms, and then abruptly, the pain stopped and he stared up, giggling uncontrollably as joy overwhelmed him.<br/><br/>He stared up at something past Viktor and smiled, before clutching blindly at the table overhead, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig from it before setting it down on the floor under the table. His expression, as he continued staring at nothing in particular, soon went from one of joy to fear.<br/><br/><br/>Darren's laughter proved infectious, as the already-smiling Viktor joined in with some goofy chuckling of his own. He relaxed, a bit too much, and ended up sliding right out of his chair and onto the floor. He landed face down and just kind of stayed there for a while, before rolling onto his side and taking the bottle. A quick splash of its remaining contents landed over his mouth, chin, and parts of the rest of his face, and the mostly-empty bottle was then dropped, rolling away from him.<br/><br/>When he noticed (if his state of mind was lucid enough<span style="font-style: italic">to</span>notice) Darren's fear, he put a hand out in an attempt to quell him, and then began mimicking the motions of playing on a guitar. Some other nearby Stalkers noticed and took great concern, with at least a few coming over to check, asking if they were alright.<br/><br/><br/>The voices tumbled through Darren's mind; he heard a roaring cacophony of chaotic sound, and he roared in response, although it came out like more of a whimper (it sounded badass to him though). He heard the whispers of the enemy and immediately began playing the drums, via flailing his arms, slamming his hands into the table overhead and the floor underneath.<br/><br/>There was no discernible rhythm, but after a time the voices around him grew more severe as the people watching became more concerned. He shouted, in a string of words that weren't words, and heard the soft whisper of more voices behind him as more people gathered. He took solace from those voices, finally smiling a little as he continued hitting everything around him.<br/><br/><br/>Viktor was in a similar state, flailing his arms rapidly in the motions of what was best comparable to a child trying to air guitar. His leg flung out and knocked over a chair, and as another Stalker tried to hold down his shoulders, he flailed a hand right at his face and just sort of limp-wristedly slapped around at him. And then, Viktor started crying, though with all the sweat it was hard to actually tell.<br/><br/>Another Stalker nearby noticed the bottle and picked it up, putting on an expression that read "are you fucking kidding me" as he realized what it was. A quick flash of the mushroom to the others later, and he was gone, off to find the base's doctor, and to tear the rookie courier who had been on the job a new asshole for letting a bottle go.<br/><br/><br/>The voices lessened in volume and Darren let out a shout of joy; victorious, he moved to spring up from the ground in triumph, but instead hit his head on the table and staggered to one side. The people who caught him held him up, but then he fought out of their grip and flopped onto the table, flipping it over onto him.<br/><br/>With the table on top of him he spasmed, his body jerking violently, and then he was still, weeping uncontrollably as if struck by an all-encompassing sadness that could not be allayed.<br/><br/><br/>In stark contrast to Darren injuring himself with furniture, Viktor just sort of flopped into an unresponsive state, remaining still on the floor for a while, staring aimlessly up at the ceiling while breathing heavily. A hand clasped at his chest, as if trying to grab at something, before he just rolled over and curled into a ball, no longer making any sounds or motions.