DGS4 -- Staging: The Station

[The Man in Red]

Seeming to be a new addition to the usual staging facilities. This area functions as a large, and very busy, train station of sorts. Stylized after something out of the early 20th century of Earth, it features a bizarrely anachronistic set of technology in terms of the lighting and the types of trains that come and go from time to time. People come and go in large numbers on the various trains, despite the seeming location of the facility somewhere in deep space. Huge numbers of the nameless NPCs filling the staging areas, the event's staff, and perhaps some of the 'special guests' may also arrive here from time to time.

OOC Note: If you wish to, you are free to arrive here rather than via the teleporters in the main entrance hall.

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

As the blinding flash of teleportation faded, Rebecca Chambers blinked groggily and squinted against the influx of light, her eyelashes fluttering as she adjusted to the sudden change in scenery. The hard, uncomfortable chair beneath her had been replaced with the velvety cushion of a... rather nice seat in what appeared to be the passenger car of a train.

A rather familiar train.

The interior of the car was an ostentatious display of old-world luxury, just as Rebecca remembered it. Glitzy gold fixtures gleamed in the low lighting, creating an air of opulence, the smell of wood polish and dust heavy in the air. And again, just as she remembered, the pomp and grandeur was marred by the disturbing remnants of an almost palpably violent and bloody struggle. Documents were strewn carelessly across the carpeted floor, mingling with luggage and various personal belongings that had been carelessly knocked over, spilling into the aisle. The plush seats, roughly three dozen of them, bore stains of dried blood upon their sleek cushions. The door leading outside had a smashed window, with shards of glass scattered haphazardly around the edges.

Hanging above, a luxurious chandelier made of delicate glass dangled from the ceiling, its weak light flickering in an unsettling silence.

Rebecca's chest heaved as her heart raced a million miles a minute, ugly memories threatening to resurface behind her eyelids at the sight before her. It... it was the Ecliptic Express, the train that had been owned by Umbrella all those years ago. But... it simply couldn't be July 1998 again; that was impossible. And yet, despite knowing this, everything looked exactly as it had back then...

Was this some kind of twisted prank?

Gritty shards of glass crunched audibly underfoot as Rebecca shifted her boot-clad feet on the thin carpet, sounding about as loud as the crack of a gunshot in the overwhelming, unnerving hush that reigned supreme inside the empty passenger car. Everywhere she looked, crimson spattered the once immaculate upholstery; purses, newspapers, briefcases discarded on the seats and floor, left behind by the dead. The grim sight of it jogged her memory alright, sending a flush of prickly and cold goosebumps prickling up her spine.

She knew it wasn't possible—it had to be a dream, a nightmare—but the familiarity of it all was just so hauntingly tangible.

Rebecca's hand trembled as she ran it through her cropped brown locks, never once breaking her stare at the haunting scene around her, drinking in the details like someone observing a... well, a train crash. She let out a slow, measured breath, briefly letting her teeth nip at her lower lip, fighting to steady her nerves.

"I've been here before," the former medic muttered to herself. Her voice, barely above a whisper, echoed in the silence surrounding her; her heart beating faster and faster inside her breast as the gravity of the situation settled in her mind. "It's that horrible train..."

She squeezed her eyes shut, steeling herself against the rush of nausea and sheer unease that threatened to consume her. She was no longer just a rookie, she reminded herself—not the inexperienced medic who had battled hordes of the undead, no longer the girl who'd forgotten to flick the stupid safety off her gun before trying to shoot a shambling dead man in the head. She was Dr. Rebecca Chambers, an experienced expert in containing and managing outbreaks. Whatever this was, she could and would overcome it.

Gripping the edges of her seat tightly, her knuckles turning pale as she struggled to remain composed, Rebecca huffed sharply, annoyed with herself.

"Get a grip, Rebecca," she whispered, hyping herself up. "This isn't the past. It's... literally just a train."

Rebecca stood on shaky legs, her hand automatically gripping the handgun holstered at her waist, the length of her white lab coat fluttering around her slight figure. The train swayed rhythmically back and forth as it chugged along the tracks, the steady clack, clack, clack of metal wheels rolling over rails filling the half-lit compartment.

Suddenly, the train jolted, causing Rebecca's stomach to drop as she hastily reached out to steady herself against the back of a padded chair. She could feel the brakes engaging and the car shuddering under the strain, the sharp, piercing squeal of metal on metal ringing out. The outside world became a blur of darkness through the curtained windows, with only distant flashes from passing lights—as ephemeral and scattered as the stars in the sky—illuminating the void-like black. The thick gloom outside felt suffocating, like someone had poured ink over the frosted glass panes, blocking her view of what awaited her.

With her hand firmly gripping her holstered gun, Rebecca cautiously made her way down the aisle, steadying herself against a chair every other step; jumpy and on the alert, ensuring no horrific, milky-eyed creature was about to leap out and grab her. Her every footstep was calculated and delicate, mindful of the debris scattered on the floor, though she couldn't avoid it entirely. The soft, tinkling crunch of glass and the fluttering crinkle of papers echoed in the eerie stillness as she approached the other side of the carriage.

The train gave a final, rattling shudder, and then stilled.

Rebecca approached the exit door, pacing closer with tentative steps. The smashed-in window offered no glimpse of what lay beyond, the shattered glass reflecting a blur of flashing lights from the train's exterior. She could hear muffled voices, though, and the clatter of many footsteps, as well as what sounded like the squealing, echoing screeches of other trains pulling into a grand station.

After a beat of hesitation, the medic reached out, her fingers grasping around the cold metal handle. She gave it a firm push, leading with her shoulder, and the carriage door opened, releasing a loud, pneumatic hiss of air as it slid to the side.

Stepping off the train, Rebecca found herself in the midst of a train station that was a strange blend of past and future, old and new, and positively bustling with life and movement. The architecture of the space was reminiscent of her Earth's early 20th century, she thought—towering arches, gleaming marble floors, and intricate wrought iron details, all bathed in the gloriously glittering golden glow of ornate chandeliers branching downward from the lofty cathedral-esque ceiling. Yet, interspersed between these stately details were elements of more modern technologies: sleek digital boards announcing train schedules, automated ticket machines whirring as they spat out bits of paper, and the crisp, cool tones of a woman speaking over an intercom system declaring arrival and departure times.

A sea of people ebbed and flowed all around her on the platform, making the vast space feel even larger—men, women, and children of all ages and species, each absorbed in their own world, some with their faces lit by the soft glow of handheld devices or buried in spell books. The air was thick with the murmur of hundreds of scattered, endlessly multi-faceted conversations, the deafening echo of footsteps, and the occasional shrill whistle of a train.

As Rebecca turned her head, slowly scanning the crowd, the grand arched windows immediately snatched her attention and held it. A breathtaking panorama of outer space stretched out beyond the reinforced glass panes, an infinite blue-and-black stretch of twinkling, star-studded void that seemed to extend forever. She could even spot the occasional shooting star or the slow drift of a distant space rock, though none appeared to be near enough to damage the station itself.

Rebecca stood a moment, enraptured, watching the view outside. Although she had traveled via space-based transport before to reach Kraw, the stark contrast between the train station's interior and the cosmic view outside still took her breath away.

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

Lost in the cosmic vista, Rebecca stood idle in front of the train station's large observation windows, her eyes fixed on the swirling stars and the far flung lights of galaxies flickering just beyond the pressure-sealed, ultra-thick glass.

She was so absorbed in the sheer vastness of the interstellar scenery before her that she hardly noticed the abrupt approach of a tall man, who stood out amongst the teeming crowd of travelers with his sprightly gait and air of self-assuredness, making quite a statement as he stepped blithely around rolling luggage carts and a swarming pack of gnomes to reach her.

"Pardon me, doctor," he addressed the oblivious scientist's turned back, his voice tinged with a hint of a British accent and an unmistakable cheekiness.

Jolting a little in place, Rebecca swiftly turned on her heels with a gentle thwip of her lab coat, locking her greenish-brown eyes with the person who had spoken to her.

Before her stood a man of considerable height, with pale skin and an artfully ill-behaved mop of platinum blond hair that seemed positively intent on defying any attempt at true order. His attire was an unusual blend of antiquated and kooky—a brown deerstalker cap sat atop his head, paired with a brown trench-coat that wouldn't have been out of place in a 19th-century detective novel. He also had a silken red ribbon tie around his neck, which Rebecca would have found a little charming—if it wasn't for the eerie mechanical goggles covering his face, the blue-tinted lenses almost seeming to kindle brighter as they fixed upon her face.

Thankfully, once he had her attention, the man quickly detached said goggles from his face, nestling them comfortably atop the front fold of his deerstalker. His eyes, a keen green, twinkled with a blend of mirth and obvious interest, his mouth quirking up a little at the corners.

Almost immediately, Rebecca came to the conclusion that this man seemed like the type of guy who could get into a great deal of trouble, if he set his mind to it.

"...Er, yes, I'm a doctor," she confirmed after a beat of hesitation, though her voice conveyed her bewilderment. "But how did you—"

"It's elementary, my dear doctor," the man interjected with a grand wave of his hand, chuckling, the magnifying lenses of his goggles glinting in the light. "The way you carry yourself, the sharpness in your gaze—all signs indicate a physician's mind! ...Not to mention your white coat, of course. And may I also deduce that you are not here of your own volition?" His eyes darted over her form, missing nothing.

Rebecca felt a touch of heat blossom on her cheeks, a mixture of irritation and embarrassment that she couldn't shake off. "I guess you could put it that way," she admitted with a slight frown, fixing her lab coat with a nervous tug; it felt like this guy could see through her. "Choice definitely had nothing to do with me being here. Did that happen to you, too?"

The man's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Ah, the predicaments we find ourselves in," he mused, idly tapping the fingers of one hand against his leg. "I, too, am here for... reasons of my own."

His confident demeanor hinted that he would reveal no further information on the subject, his eyes briefly flitting to scan the crowd around them, his posture straight-backed and his stance surefooted.

In turn, Rebecca's eyebrows quirked, her curiosity now piqued by this mysterious stranger before her. Who was he? What was his deal? He'd made no move to introduce himself. Should she go first? This kind of social interaction had always confounded her, a little, but he seemed perfectly fine just letting her stew in her perplexity.

Maybe I'm overthinking this. Just TALK to him, Rebecca. Just! Talk!

"You seem pretty at ease in all this... craziness," she commented in a forced casual tone, tucking a stray strand of her tomboyish brown hair behind her ear. She wished she could be half as confident right now; she still felt shaky from her brief time spent on that damn train.

With a sly grin and a conspiratorial twinkle in his eye, the blond-haired man leaned in closer. "Yes, yes. But chaos... chaos is but a ladder," he declared theatrically. "One must simply learn how to climb it!"

Despite herself, Rebecca quirked a slight smile at that, the tension that had strung through her shoulders for the past hour... easing, just slightly. He seemed like a pretty pleasant guy, at least, even if their meeting had been a little abrupt.

She adjusted her bearing, tilting her head and resting a hand on her hip as she addressed him, pointedly friendly. "Well, that's one way to handle a tough break. I was working on some pretty critical experiments before I got dragged into this mess, and now I don't even know where the heck I am. And... huh, I've just realized I never even asked for your name!"

"Sherlock Holmes, at your service," the man replied with a half-bow, as if the name itself were a grand revelation; which, to be fair, it sort of was. "Consulting detective, master of observation, and... occasional traveler of the inter-dimensional variety, evidently. I presume you've heard of me?"

"Rebecca Chambers," Rebecca introduced herself in turn, extending a hand, which he took with an air of chivalry. "And... Holmes, you said? Yeah, I think I have heard about you, in fact..."

"Have you," said Holmes, releasing her hand. He seemed somewhat pleased by this.

Rebecca nodded slowly, her brow furrowing as she tried to remember. "Oh, right! You were the one who aided in solving that big heist in Arcadia involving a... a rodent or something...? Some ancient spell book was damaged and there was a whole coverup by the archive curator."

Her memory failed her on the specifics; she'd been too immersed in her studies and grading of papers to pay much attention to the deluge of new and noteworthy incidents the Crossroads churned out on a daily basis. Not to mention, magic? That was all a bit beyond the realm of things Rebecca was comfortable with. She was perfectly happy occupying the realm of science and logic, thank you very much—leave the rest to the trained wizards.

Luckily, Holmes was more than happy to pick up the slack where Rebecca's recollection faltered.

He chuckled, idly gesturing with a rather nice gentleman's tobacco pipe that had appeared from... somewhere. Thin air? "Ah, yes... quite amusing, I must say. The curator's pet hamster, absconding from their enclosure and nibbling on a collection of improperly stored, indisputably priceless texts! A seemingly mundane mystery, but let us not underestimate the importance of such cases. After all, every little mouse matters."

A bit bemusedly, Rebecca's lips curved into a faint, mystified grin. "Uh, right... so, Mr. Holmes, if you don't mind me asking... what's the deal with this place? Why are we even here? I mean, not to be dramatic about it, but I've been doctor-napped and dumped here with little to no information about why. You seem to know a thing or two, though. Care to fill me in?"

Sherlock took his time responding, thoughtfully tapping his pipe against his lips but never once lighting it. "I'm afraid the case at hand... is rather more grave than a mere doctor-napping, Dr. Chambers. We are entangled in a twisted web of cunning and trickery that spans the entire Crossroads, ensnaring unwitting pawns such as yourself in its sticky threads. And, at times... far more witting pawns."

He didn't seem inclined to indicate whether he was one or the other, and Rebecca didn't pester him about it.

The great consulting detective began pacing before her, gesturing with the pipe stem as he spoke. "I have learned before of the shadowy organization behind this mass recruitment of specialized individuals for... somewhat ambiguous purposes. Usually, it seems we are to serve as entertainment for the masses in a universal performance... a challenge, one might say—enduring innumerable agonies and sorrows along the way. This... pocket of inter-dimensional impossibility is but one small cog in their fiendish machine. Hardly something to write home about, yes?"

Holmes paused to glance around at their surroundings, appearing somewhat mulish, before fixing Rebecca with an intense gaze. "By bringing us here, they mean to leverage our unique talents in furtherance of their... study, most assuredly," he smiled as if to reassure her, but it was a little grim around the edges, a stark departure from his earlier energetic cheer. "But to be forewarned is to be forearmed, dear doctor. And... I fear that we will not be given ample warning in this instance."

A shiver ran down Rebecca's back at that, causing the fine hairs on her arms to stand on end. She looked around, feeling a sense of unease settle like a lead weight in her gut.

That was... pretty ominous, alright.

She squared her shoulders, fighting off the nauseated feeling building inside her. No sense in getting all worked up, Chambers. You've got your training. You've got a good head on your shoulders. Don't. Panic.

"I may or may not have faced something... kinda like this before," Rebecca admitted, meeting the detective's gaze, her green eyes soft with emotion behind her glasses. "While I... certainly don't feel fully equipped for this, considering the circumstances, I'd say I'm ready to give it my all. And... for what it's worth, I hope we both make it out of this alive."

Straightening his coat, Holmes appeared to visibly shake off the malaise that had descended upon the pair. "Yes, well. Likewise. Now, that aside..." he turned, scanning the crowd around them, a slight smile touching upon his lips. "Shall we embark on a journey of logical discovery, doctor?"

Rebecca blinked, turning her head to look out over the teeming train station, as well. "You mean..."

"Yes!" crowed Holmes, rubbing his palms together, seeming much like a child in a candy store. "There is much to be learned about our fellow travelers, after all—there has never been a more magnificent opportunity to learn the art of deduction, I suspect!"

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

Holmes strode along the crowded station's marble floor like he owned the place, head held high with his hands clasped behind his back, the pitter-patter of footsteps and the chattering of the masses swelling in the air all around him. He scanned each person they passed, seeming to take extensive note of their mannerisms and appearances—Rebecca trailing a step or two behind at a somewhat slower pace, her lips quirking up at the corners, kindly hiding her amusement.

Quite abruptly, the great detective's brisk pacing ground to a halt. So suddenly, in fact, that Rebecca nearly crashed into the back of his coat nose-first, and had to do a quick spinning maneuver not unlike a ballerina pirouetting to avoid a tumble.

Whirling around, Holmes leaned in until his face was just inches from Rebecca's own, his sharp green eyes fixed on a young man in a dark grey hoodie. The man's backpack bulged at the seams, his hands grasping fervently around it as if the tattered thing contained Arcadia's crown jewels themselves. He looked over his shoulder fitfully as he zigzagged through the sea of faces, his features pinched with concern.

"Do you see that young man there, doctor?" Holmes asked Rebecca, subtly gesturing towards the aforementioned man. "He seems to be in quite a hurry, don't you think? Look, now, and observe. Perhaps he's running from something or someone."

Rebecca followed his gaze, noting the young man's disheveled appearance and the way he clutched at his bag straps. She tilted her head a bit to the side; he looked like any other traveler to her. "Yes, I see him..."

"Clearly, he's a fugitive on the run, likely with a trove of stolen goods secreted away in that backpack of his," Holmes whispered, with the exact sort of wonderment one might reserve for finding a forgotten tenner in a winter coat pocket. "The way he's constantly looking about, it's evident he's expecting the authorities to catch up with him at any moment!"

Suppressing the tiny laugh that threatened to bubble past her lips, Rebecca raised a skeptical eyebrow at the detective. "Or... maybe he's just running late for his train and he's worried about pickpockets in this busy station," she replied, her light tone tinged with a bit of sunny good humor. She observed the young man's hasty scampering with a weather eye. "I mean, look at the state of his bag. It's basically falling apart at the seams! That's why he's holding it like that."

Holmes's piercing eyes flickered with some private humor that Rebecca couldn't quite interpret. He gave a short, appreciative nod. "A... practical perspective, Dr. Chambers. You have a keen eye. Very well, let's consider your theory as we continue our deductions..."

His voice trailed off, and then they were walking once more through the crowd, Holmes leading the chase like a greyhound after the hare, with a very amused Rebecca in tow.

It wasn't much longer before Holmes's attention was captured again, this time by a woman in a crisp, tailored suit located over by the ticket machines. Her face was drawn into an angry frown as she paced back and forth, her well-manicured hands gesturing sharply as she spoke rapidly into a small, sleek device at her ear.

"Ah, observe this one," Holmes began, motioning subtly towards their new subject with a cant of his head. He lifted a finger in the air, eyes closing in quiet satisfaction as he made his deductions. "An undercover agent, no doubt, reporting back to her superiors on the results of a covert operation. The intensity in her voice, the urgency of her movements—it's simply unmistakable, doctor, when considered from all angles..."

Just barely turning her head to look, Rebecca studied the woman out of the corner of her eye, taking in the stack of clear plastic-bound papers under her arm and the expensive, not to mention open laptop bag slung over her shoulder.

"It's... possible, I guess," she conceded, after a moment's consideration of the visual details before her, even walking a little to consider the woman from multiple directions... unobtrusively, of course. "But it's also possible she's just a businesswoman closing a deal. The papers seem to be contracts in-progress, judging by all the red ink, and that device... well, it's probably just a phone of some kind, Mr. Holmes. Not really a secure method of communicating for something meant to be covert."

"Indeed?" Holmes mused, smiling an enigmatic little smile as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You may have a point. The world of business is, after all, its own exercise in... crossing clandestine battle lines."

They continued their stroll through the train station, with Holmes pausing every so often to make another one of his deductions about the innumerable individuals they passed. Each time, Rebecca was there to offer a more grounded alternative to his more... outlandish suggestions, which Holmes accepted with good grace, if not a touch of slyness.

Finally, after circling around, they came to a halt near a bench where a man sat alone. As they neared the lone man, Rebecca noticed his closed eyes and his head's slight bobbing to the rhythm of music blasting through his oversized headphones.

"And here we have a classic case of a sleeper agent, activated and awaiting instructions," Holmes whispered vehemently, speaking low so only Rebecca could hear his words. "The headphones are merely a ruse, my dear doctor, and yet they give him away; he's actually receiving a coded message through an encrypted channel, right this very minute."

Rebecca peered at the man, noting the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the faint, gentle smile on his lips. "Or he's just enjoying his favorite song and taking a moment to relax before his journey," she huffed, her lips twitching into a smile. "If he was really up to something, he'd be..."

She paused in speaking, then, as the man's eyelids fluttered open. He directed a frantic look at his bag, a brief look of panic washing over his face, before he pulled out his phone—quickly scanning the area behind him as he unlocked it.

Holmes let out a soft chuckle, his green eyes crinkling at the corners. "Dr. Chambers, your knack for stripping the unusual down to the mundane is both a balm and a curse to my sensibilities. But look now, as he directs a furtive glance at his device... what could he be looking at? A secret message, perhaps?"

"I..."

For a moment, Rebecca was dumbfounded, aghast. Had the man really received some coded message like Holmes suggested? It seemed almost too fanciful to be real. But now her curiosity was definitely piqued, and she simply couldn't shake off the feeling that something more was going on!

Her eyes scanned the man's face, taking in every twitch of his jaw and furrow of his brow. His body language was tense as he typed on his phone. The rapid thumb movements indicated a sense of urgency, alright, but she wasn't sure that hinted at a secretive conversation, per se. But then, his thumb stopped moving and a warm smile spread across his face.

Over the sounds of the bustling train station, she could just make out the words, "Hi, honey, sorry I missed your call—"

Rebecca's shoulders, which had grown tense and stiff without her conscious intent, sagged. She directed a quick side glance at Holmes, wondering if he'd noticed her tension... probably. "Well, I just like calling it like I see it, Mr. Holmes. I'm a woman of science. Besides, isn't it better to seek out the simple truths rather than get lost in... crazy speculation?"

"Indubitably," Holmes conceded with a slight shrug, returning his gaze to the thronging rabble populating the station. "But where would be the joy in such a straightforward solution? The excitement of the pursuit, the great mystery to be unraveled... it's what truly quickens the blood, wouldn't you say? It takes a certain... finesse."

A peal of light, girlish laughter filled the air as Rebecca shook her head in disbelief, her short brown hair fluffing up with the movement. Despite everything—despite the terror of being transported to this weird facility against her will, despite her questions surrounding their reason for being here... she was glad to be in good company, at the very least.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" she said, her lips splitting into a soft grin. "But I guess there's a certain charm to your method... even if it is a little out there."

Holmes straightened his deerstalker hat and clasped his hands behind his back quite smartly, a devilish twinkle in his green eyes. "I shall take that as a compliment, Dr. Chambers," he murmured quite humbly, dipping at the waist in a slight bow.

Fighting to keep herself from grinning like an idiot, Rebecca playfully rolled her eyes. "You're a real charmer, aren't you?" she teased, lightly fixing her black-framed glasses. "Okay, I'll bite. Let's see if we can uncover any more 'sleeper agents' or 'fugitives' lurking around..."

Not that she thought it was a likely prospect. Everyone seemed fairly normal, so far...

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

Trains were a good idea, Mahito decided. A sealed tube where people would unwittingly enter and then find themselves unable to escape unless they wanted to take their chances with a jump at 100mph. That was all assuming he was free to cause all the chaos he wanted, that is, which he was currently very much unable to do. The curse was strapped to a vertical stretcher, his hands tightly secured and his inhibitor collar was working overtime to ensure he couldn’t transfigure himself to slip his bonds.

Bored out of his mind, Mahito barely perked up as the train ground to a halt, stopping outside the strange train station that was built into the Carnivale Rosa staging area. Some might have wondered how exactly they got here from the train station on Erde Nona, but the curse didn’t even care enough to notice. He did, however, care about his handler, a tall, silent, muscular individual in a crisp red suit and white mask, reaching for a set of keys on his belt.

Mahito grinned ear-to-ear as he heard the jingling of keys, his handler reaching to unshackle him from the stretcher. Stumbling forward a little, the freed sadist took the opportunity to stretch his half-asleep limbs, slightly wishing he could shapeshift to stretch them more. It would have felt nice to stretch a few metres into the air right now.

“You are free to explore the staging area as you wish, Mr. Mahito.” the handler said, speaking up for the first time since he had loaded his charge onto the train. As he spoke, the large man then went to undo the curse’s handcuffs. “However, I will request that you stay out of the ‘staff-only’ areas. I will also be leaving your inhibitor collar on, where it will stay for the remainder of the event.”

Mahito pouted a little as he touched the collar with free hands, gingerly touching the beeping device. He had enough control of his body to know that it lanced through his neck, stabbing in and ensuring that removal was impossible. Less a deadly torture device and more of an inconvenience for him, but an inconvenience nonetheless.

“So what, I’m gonna go in there and just start swinging?” Mahito said with all the grace of a child who just got told ‘no’.

“The inhibitor will be partially disabled when you enter the game, so you will have access to most of your natural abilities. This is simply a precaution to ensure you don’t cause undue damage before you enter.” the handler responded patiently. Then, for a moment, Mahito swore that he saw the grinning face of the mask widen a little. “Trust me, Mr Mahito, if carnage is your desire, it will be worth the wait.”

The curse frowned skeptically for a moment before giving an exaggerated sigh, interlocking his fingers together and placing them behind his head. “Whatever.”

With that, he stepped out onto the platform, idly glancing around for anything even remotely interesting. It didn’t take him long to spot a strange pair chatting nearby. One was undoubtedly a detective, judging from his awfully stereotypical outfit. The other was apparently a doctor, something Mahito picked up from the man’s endless ramblings.

The two were seemingly playing a game of some sort, people-watching and trying to pick out suspicious individuals from the crowd. It seemed fun so, lacking any sense of shame in his approach, the bored curse decided to wander over and join in.

“Consider that gentleman over… there...” Holmes said, gesturing to a man power-walking across the platform before his gaze fell over the approaching curse, suddenly growing serious. “On second thought, consider the individual approaching us now. An undoubtedly very dangerous individual.”

Rebecca initially took this to be another one of his absurd deductions, smiling as she turned to face the third party, only for her next quip to die in her throat as she got a good look at him.

“Well… I suppose he is pretty rough-looking.” She acknowledged, any attempts at refuting his initial judgement struggling against the ominous, stitch-faced individual approaching them with an eager smile on his face. “He doesn’t seem to have bad intentions, though?”

“I wouldn’t be so certain.” Holmes replied with genuine seriousness, his shift in demeanour shaking Rebecca a tad. “Consider the collar he has already been given. The inhibitor collars are intended to limit our innate abilities to even the playing field. If this individual has already been collared, then it would imply that he would use his abilities in the staging area given the chance.”

“That’s true… he might not consider us his enemies, though.” Rebecca ventured. “He might have been brought here against his will, and the Carnivale employees might be worried that he’ll use his powers against them?”

“I’m sure that is a concern, but I find it unlikely that he would limit himself to targeting just employees. Observe the stitching on his face and arms.” the detective continued. “The nature of the stitches aren’t the kind that are shutting wounds. They’re holding the body together. It evokes the image of flesh golems and other artificial beings, stitched together to be used as weapons. I believe this one isn’t an innocent person, but rather a created weapon that the Carnivale procured to serve as an obstacle in their games. The reckless violence of a living weapon would certainly fit their brand.”

“You’re breaking my heart.” Mahito grinned as he approached. “Pretty rude to say all that to my face. Though it’s also pretty rude to say it all behind my back, so meh.”

Rebecca and Holmes regarded him silently for a moment, a tense silence falling over the trio.

“What? You want me to confirm if your theory is right or not?” the curse said, his grin only widening. “Well, I’ll never tell. Wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise!”

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

It was practically a confirmation, really.

Rebecca, taken aback by the nonchalant admittance of... well, shadiness and the grey-haired man's unabashed grin, visibly wavered between trust and skepticism. Her hand pointedly reached to adjust her glasses as she glanced between the strange, patched-together newcomer and Holmes, her green eyes wide, trying to gauge the situation.

Her instincts as a doctor and a scientist told Rebecca to give each person the benefit of the doubt, to consider the circumstances that brought this individual into his current, um, state. He certainly looked a little rough around the edges, and the collar wrapped around his neck... it looked like it must hurt terribly. She felt a little bad for him, because she certainly hadn't been outfitted with such a heinous device!

But she understood Holmes' deductions were grounded in shrewd observation—a skill she herself valued tremendously in her field of work—and they presented a distressing possibility that she simply couldn't easily dismiss. Even if Holmes had been making bizarre statements before, he appeared to mean business about this one.

The sudden change in the detective's demeanor was so... so jarring. One minute, he'd been as spirited as his elegantly curled blond hair, but now he was stiff as a board and cool, cool, cool, the playful spark in his eyes snuffed out as if by a sudden wintry draft.

Should she trust her own gut feeling as a medic, or rely on Holmes' astute analyses?

As a fresh wave of passengers disembarked from their train, they instinctively gave a wide berth to the patchwork man. A noticeable bubble of empty space formed around him, as if the other passengers didn't want to risk being too close.

Bad vibes, thought Rebecca, as if noting down the symptoms of a patient.

Gathering her composure, Rebecca lightly propped a hand on her hip and spoke in a measured tone, trying to hide her state of unease by fiddling with a pouch on her belt. She studiously averted her gaze from the man's oddly handsome sewing experiment of a face with its mismatched eyes, pursing her lips as she studied the collection of first aid sprays and syringes still tucked inside the pouch, secure and organized.

"You seem... unusually chipper, given the predicament you're in," Rebecca ventured cautiously, her voice laced with a hint of professional curiosity. It was her objective professor voice, the one she often used when trying to direct students towards certain discussion points during her lectures.

Though a subtle tension wired through her body as she said the words, wondering if her open-ended statement would elicit anything that might reveal the supposed reckless violence of the man before them.

"Life is so fragile. Why waste it sulking?" the grey-haired man replied, a decidedly strange smile playing on his lips, his tone practically dripping with amusement. He cocked his head to the side like a curious dog, observing the doctor and detective with an air of calm detachment. "Althouuugh, I see you two don't have any shiny new accessories like mine..."

He idly scraped at the inhibitor collar latched around his throat with a fingernail, a barely-there beeping just faintly audible from inside the black metal band.

Rebecca's gaze flitted up from her pouch, a look of concern crossing her features.

Her fellow human did not appear sympathetic.

"Oh, we'll have them soon enough, of that I'm certain," Holmes crossed his arms over his chest, studying the man before them with a rapid, sharp glance, as if he did not relish intuiting this one's life in particular. "Refreshing outlook on life, though. Somewhat grim for most tastes. It does lend credence to my former deduction about your... possible origins."

The man's grin didn't waver, but his contrasting eyes took on a sharper glint. His body language, on the other hand, remained... exceedingly casual. Almost eerily casual, in fact, as he leaned back on his heels and folded his arms behind his head, everything about him unnaturally relaxed. "So, what—you're a cop or something?"

Holmes' lips twitched at the corners, a subtle tell. "A detective, actually, and not quite the ordinary sort. I deal in the extraordinary, the peculiar, and sometimes... the outright supernatural—investigating things that beg many questions. I might even venture to say that you would fall rather neatly into my usual line of work."

"That's funny," drawled the man with the stitched face, his eyes narrowing into slits of cat-like amusement. They darted to Rebecca next, fixing on her face. He leaned in a little closer. "And what about you, huh?"

Rebecca felt a definite chill creep up her back as the man's attention focused on her, the skin at the nape of her neck prickling. There was an unsettling undertone to everything he did, something... dark and foreboding that resonated within the depths of his smile. But it was such a nice smile, all that aside—almost puppyish, really, if one ignored all the stitches quite literally gluing his face together.

What might he look like, if those stitches came undone? Rebecca's fingers twitched with the urge to look closer, to unravel this curious anatomical jigsaw alongside the mystery of his reason for being there... his reason for being, ahem, recruited by the Carnivale Rosa.

Despite her doubts, her unwavering belief in human decency—or, in this case, whatever ideologies this man possessed—prompted her to seek for a sliver of goodness that might be residing within him. Holmes seemed to think he had this man dead to rights, and maybe he did! But as a doctor, Rebecca knew better than most how trauma and suffering could twist someone into committing behaviors they themselves regretted. She thought dearly of patients she had treated, lashing out in pain or gripped by addiction.

Were they evil people, or simply humans responding as best they could to horrific circumstances? Rebecca knew how she felt about the matter, deep in her heart.

She couldn't help but wonder if there was a part of him that had been manipulated... whether the patchwork state of his body was a choice or a forced necessity.

"I'm a researcher," Rebecca said simply, gesturing to her lab coat—and perhaps her general... nerdy essence—and did not choose to elaborate. Then, after a beat of hesitation, extended her hand for a handshake. "Dr. Rebecca Chambers. A pleasure."

The man chuckled as he dropped his hands from behind his head to meet hers in a firm handshake. "The name's Mahito."

His skin was cold where they made contact, and Rebecca's fingers reflexively curled inwards towards her palms in response, a slight furrow appearing between her brows. She pulled her hand back, moving purposefully slow to avoid appearing impolite.

"Hm," Rebecca hummed under her breath. "Do you have any troubles with your blood pressure, Mr. Mahito?"

 

[Gizmo Gear]

Travis sat in the train station and rested along the ride there because he wanted to rest along the way there and while napping he fell asleep. And during it, he had a weird dream. He dreamt that he died and was being judged on whether he would go to Heaven or Hell. However, what made the dream stressful was seeing everyone he ever killed on the jury. Each one bears a mark or scar related to their death.

The only witnesses that were called that had vouched for him were his deceased best friend Bishop and deceased swordmaster Thunder Ryu. Both highlight his most positive traits. Everyone else ripped him apart hard. Especially his half-sister Jeane who was the most brutal in her testimony. And the judge finally ruled that Travis would be sent to Hell.

In what seemed like years of praying to the Virgin Mary for forgiveness made meaningless, which is an actual canon bit of No More Heroes trivia, a trapdoor opened under Travis as he was dropped toward Hell a vast fiery pit of lava below him. And he was falling at an incredible height/speed like he might as well be skydiving off of a rocket ship from the Earth's atmosphere. The minute he lands in the lava he wakes up from his bizarre nightmare.

He then gets off the train and is surprised to find the station to not be all futuristic but more something close to home. Then he is greeted by a staff member in a mask.

"Thank you for taking the train instead of using our teleporter, we hope that you enjoyed your ride here," the staff member said.

"Wait, you had a teleporter all along?" Travis asked.

The staff member nodded as Travis cussed under his breath and walked away. Along his way, he then spotted three individuals. Now he saw a lot of weird stuff in his lifetime and on Nos'talgia. He's used to it and went numb to it. One of the people there looked like Sherlock Holmes while the other looked like a scientist. The other person who was in stitches looked like he popped right out of an anime but not from anyone he is familiar with.

He prefers the classics so to speak. And goes for subtitles whenever possible. Hell, he usually goes vintage for the older stuff and uses a VHS for authenticity. Not to say he doesn't partake in the newer ones now and then. Though that's beside the point this guy was giving him creepy vibes. As a gentleman, he knew he had to intervene.

"Yo, stitches! You are not bothering these two, are you? I can tell just by the looks of your eyes. You're a fellow killer, aren't you? I have been in the business long enough to know just from the look in someone's eyes whether or not they killed a lot of people." Travis said.

Of course, he was bluffing and had no idea if he was or not just from the look in his eyes, though his instinct was telling him to stay away from this guy. He awaited a response and depending on the answer either he'll get the truth out of him, or the man will spout total bullshit and he'll try to gauge if he's lying or not. Hopefully the former because he can be too gullible for his own good sometimes, damn Destroyman.

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

Now who was this asshole? Mahito resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the intruding man, wondering what exactly he sought to gain here. Sure, he wasn’t wrong about the curse being a killer, but it seemed like a bad idea to call him out on it so blatantly. After all, he was most dangerous when he was either annoyed or had nothing left to hide, and this guy was trying to hit both at once.

Whatever.

Mahito could play this guy’s game. Maybe he could serve a fun distraction, if even for a few moments. Just enough to last them to the actual game, at which point he could just off the guy.

“Slow your roll, man. You badmouth my face and then start throwing out those accusations. Me? A killer?” the killer said innocently, feigning ignorance before a dark mood seemingly overtook him, glumly covering his mouth in contemplation. “Yeah, I suppose I am. Though I never asked for this. Forces outside of my control drive me to kill.”

This was true, technically. Mahito was only a killer because he was born of the hatred that humans held towards other people, nothing he had any control over. Of course, he wasn’t complaining, but the others didn’t need to know that. The hand over his mouth in particular served to hide the cheeky grin that crossed his visage in response to his omission of the truth.

“Anyway… yes, doctor, I guess you could say I have some circulation issues. Because of my… unique situation, I don’t have much of a blood flow at all. Not in the normal way, at least.”

“Your unique situation?” Rebecca asked, quirking an eyebrow at the ambiguous statement. In spite of herself, the strange man piqued her scientific curiosity, unable to help herself from wondering exactly what he was, what was happening in his body. “I’ll have to ask you to elaborate, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Mahito scratched his chin contemplatively for a moment, staring off into the distance before turning back to the doctor with a cheery grin on his face.

“Nah. I don’t think I will. Why spoil the surprise, right?” he chuckled before a slightly eerie tone crept into his voice. “I’m sure you’ll find out in the show anyway.”

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

Rebecca's eyebrows raised, her eyes briefly flicking to Holmes to gauge his reaction, the colorful crowd of people thronging around them momentarily forgotten. She could see the subtle change in his demeanor—the hard glint in his emerald green eyes and the tightened set of his jaw—and knew that he, too, had picked up on the disturbing nature of that last statement.

A sense of unease washed over Rebecca in a wave, the sensation not unlike standing in an open field with a lightning storm looming on the horizon, subtle tingles of anticipatory electricity prickling over her arms and legs. While she was no stranger to feelings of impending doom, recognizing the stomach-churning twinge and all that it implied all too well, that didn't make it any less... unpleasant.

Still, despite her intuition, she couldn't help feeling some sympathy for Mahito as he spoke about being manipulated to kill.

"Right," she replied carefully, not bothering to hide the dubious twist of her lips, the slight tightening of her posture. "That's... yes, very informative, Mr. Mahito. I'll... look forward to it."

In her periphery vision, she watched Holmes fold his arms over his chest, pipe once more in hand, idly bringing it to his lips.

She had no earthly clue why he did that—there didn't even seem to be any tobacco in the chamber! Maybe it's just a habit of his while deep in thought...?

"Fantastic," Mahito's grin widened as he let out another soft, lilting laugh, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, the stitches embedded in his cheeks twisting unnaturally with the motion. "Mystery is the spice of life, and all that," he added with an eerie sincerity, brushing some of his long, silvery hair back over his shoulder.

"I couldn't agree more," mumbled Holmes against the stem of the pipe, a bit dry. Rebecca glanced at him, but he'd turned his gaze to the mass of travelers walking past and the hissing arrival of a train just off the platform they stood upon, unruffled.

She nodded shortly to herself, fingers lightly dancing over the sidearm strapped to her hip beneath her coat, before she pointedly dropped her arm to rest loosely at her side.

As if suddenly remembering something, Rebecca turned with a sharp thwip of her lab coat, a curious shine sparkling in her eyes as she faced the other newcomer who had disrupted her stroll with Holmes.

His dark brown hair stood outrageously upright in a sharp, flame-like sweep, making him look as if he had been electrocuted. Though she thought his rebel-red leather jacket seemed pretty... suave with its popped collar, especially when paired with those faded, torn jeans and brown high-top sneakers.

Didn't he say something about killing people...? A LOT of people.

Rebecca's head tilted juuuust slightly to the side as she studied him, causing a few stray strands of her hair to spill over the classy black frames of her glasses.

"And... excuse my manners, but who are you?" she asked, her mouth curving into a small, friendly smile, albeit a little strained around the edges from the proximity of... just so many new and unfamiliar people. With how her day had been proceeding thus far, it was starting to get a bit overstimulating, and it likely showed. "Not to say that I don't appreciate the concern for both myself and Mr. Holmes, but..."

Her voice trailed off, her gaze briefly flitting to Mahito, pointedly vague about her actual feelings on the matter. Had this... this Carnivale Rosa really 'recruited' them all for the same purpose...? Rebecca couldn't help but wonder about the host's sanity, though she already had her doubts. She felt she had some common ground with Holmes, at the very least, but these two... she wasn't so sure!

The unknown man's blue eyes swiveled to her as she spoke, widening a little, a faint glint visible behind his tinted Aviator sunglasses.

 

[Gizmo Gear]

Travis couldn't get a good read of this guy. From one minute he's jovial now he's acting all gloomy. He can't tell if it's an act or if he really can't control killing people. Then again he does look like a zombie. And with that collar maybe he's some sort of reanimated corpse like Frankenstein's monster. Still, though it's not like he's going to say what his deal was.

When she said Mr.Holmes he did a double take and looked over Holmes again. Realizing it was the Sherlock Holmes. So he was not the only fictional character getting isekaied to this weird dimension.

"The Sherlock Holmes? Well, I am not that much of a fan, but meeting you is an honor. As for me, my name's Travis Touchdown, a hero and assassin for hire. Sorry for butting in your conversation. Anyway Stitches, maybe you can't control it, though if you enjoy that is another story. And if you try to kill me well, don't blame me for what happens." Travis said.

He then turns back to Rebecca Chambers and Holmes.

"Anyway if we meet on the field hopefully we can help each other out. Nowadays I only kill people who deserve it. I am talking real psychos and bastards from superhero cosplaying dickwads to goddamned homicidal aliens and everything in between. So yeah I have experience in killing, damn good at it, but I am not here to kill my way to the top. I am just in this game hoping that the grand prize is a way back home. So if you three are willing to help me out I can help protect you from the other contestants as well if possible, and can also split the grand prize with you if possible." Travis said.

He has no idea how long this Death Game will go and it seems to be a survival-type thing as far as he knows and he is a well inexperienced in surviving out in the wilderness. He's seen plenty of media where people do that sort of thing but hasn't put it into practice. He's not even sure if he can tell what is or isn't poisonous. So he might as well network for some assistance instead of blindly walking around some forest/jungle like a jackass. He then looks around trying to see if he can find any map of the area. He also hands Rebecca Chambers and Holmes some business cards.

"So where do we go next exactly? I am planning to do some training before I start but I am thinking about getting a bite to eat first before I do that," Travis asked.

 

[Sigmund Vrell]

Mahito let out a subtle snort, turning aside so that the sunglass-wearing assassin couldn’t see him rolling his eyes. The kind of guy who only kills people “who deserve it”, trying to make themselves feel better about murder. Boooooooring! If you’re gonna kill people, own it! That was the mindset that the curse held. If you were going to go off with excuses about why it’s fine and moral to do it, why bother doing it in the first place?

Clearing his throat innocently, Mahito turned back to the group with a cheery look on his face.

“Teaming up to watch each other’s backs? That sounds like a great idea!” the curse grinned, clapping his hands together eagerly. The dude had to be a moron to offer to have someone like Mahito covering his blind spot, but he wasn’t going to complain about that. The idea of these hapless humans, choking on toxic herbs and mushrooms as he loomed over them. It was like the world’s best camping trip!

“I’m flattered, Mr Touchdown, but are you sure you want all three of us watching each other? I can’t help but feel as though our friend here should not be trusted with such a responsibility.” Sherlock spoke up, narrowing his eyes at the all-to-enthusiastic curse.

“Hey, what did Rebecca ever do for you to be so suspicious?” Mahito asked, shaking his head in mock disappointment at the detective. “Honestly, you’re way too paranoid.”

“I’m talking about you and you know it.” Holmes said. The detective was keeping his cool, but there was an undeniable edge to his voice that made it clear he had no patience for the stitch-faced man’s antics.

“Holmes. Could I have a word with you?” Rebecca asked, bringing the detective aside. The doctor gave him a sympathetic look to assure him that she wasn’t about to lecture him on being too harsh to the ominous stranger. “Look… while I don’t distrust him quite as much as you, I get it.”

“There’s going to be a ‘but’ here, isn’t there?” the detective sighed. You didn’t need his legendary intuition to know where this was going.

“...just a little one.” the doctor shrugged. With a groan, Holmes began to speak up again, but Rebecca raised her hands in an attempt to reassure him. “Look, even if he doesn’t have the best intentions for us, there’s no way he’s stupid enough to try to take on all of us at once while collared, right? Worst case, he either tries to take us all on and we chase him off together or he waits until one or all of us are weak, and he acts like he’s helping us in the meantime.”

“This was meant to reassure me?”

“Look, I say we bring him along for at least a little while, and at the first sign that Mahito is thinking of turning to violence over cooperation, we kick him to the curb.”

Holmes considered the idea silently for a long moment. Though he knew that the stranger hadn’t heard their conversation, he could feel Mahito’s gaze boring into the back of his head, the curse’s sadistic glare piercing through him.

“And I am to trust that these are your true feelings, doctor? That this decision is driven by logic, not by your scientific curiosity?” Sherlock murmured quietly.

“That’s right.” Rebecca answered, though it was anyone’s guess whether this was true or not.

“Fine. In the event that we team up - which, mind you, may not happen depending on the events of the game - then we may bring Mahito with us on the condition that he behaves himself. At the first sign of betrayal, he is gone.”

“Don’t worry, detective.” the curse said, giving a little salute and widening his eerie grin a little further. “I won’t let you down.”

 

[Rebecca Chambers]

"Right, good deal," murmured Rebecca, wincing subtly as she tried to inject a bit of good cheer into her voice, even as she and Holmes leveled the curse with a dubious look. "That sounds really great, Mr. Mahito."

It feels like I'm talking to a ticking time bomb, she thought dryly. Or maybe a little kid I'm trying to talk out of breaking his toys!

A little shudder snaked down her spine at the unintended, completely creepy comparison. It had just popped into her brain unprompted; perhaps it was simply her subconscious picking up on all those bad vibes in the air.

Whatever the case, it felt... bizarrely apt, considering the circumstances.

She resisted the urge to rub at her temples in frustration. After the whole kidnapping thing and all of the deeply unpleasant surprises she had faced recently, Rebecca wasn't sure if she could trust this Mahito or Travis Touchdown enough to... team up with them? Whatever that would mean in the mysterious competition that was sure to unfold before them soon. She wasn't clairvoyant!

Even still, Rebecca Chambers was a bit fed up with grand betrayals and murder attempts these days, thank you very much. Just thinking about it gave her chest pains.

Sighing a little through her nose, she reached up and delicately adjusted her black-framed glasses where they balanced on her face, dearly wishing for a moment that she could retreat from this whole situation. Her gaze skittered over the train station, studying the various faces of people speed-walking past, but they all seemed to blur together into a meaningless morass of unfamiliarity—and truthfully, the wellspring of interest she held in this part of the facility had all but run dry.

After regaining her composure, she then turned to face... Travis, wasn't it? Travis Touchdown.

"Mr. Touchdown, I'd be more than happy to assist you should we cross paths in this... challenge, or whatever it may be," the medic stated earnestly, a polite smile brimming on her lips. "I am a doctor, after all. Do no harm, you know?"

She adjusted the sleeves of her lab coat pointedly, glancing at Holmes. "But... I believe we'll have to part ways, for now. I'm going to wander around for a little while. Get a better idea of what we're to expect, clear my mind. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Holmes," her gaze flitted to Travis and Mahito, her smile turning a bit wry. "... and the pair of you, as well, of course."

Dipping at the waist in a slight bow, Holmes inclined his head, a knowing gleam in his sharp emerald gaze. "The pleasure is entirely mine, Dr. Chambers. I have little doubt that your investigations will prove fruitful."

An abrupt, smooth voice crackled over the intercom within the hectic train station, causing at least a few hundred heads to turn upwards in unison. It announced the opening of the barracks, a ripple of excitement fluttering across the massive sea of travelers at this news.

"I guess that's my cue," Rebecca joked wryly, her head already swiveling to scan for an exit. "Catch you guys later."

And with that, she melted into the throng of people, her crisp white lab coat fluttering behind her like a flag before disappearing from sight.

 

[Gizmo Gear]

When Mahito mentioned being a part of the team, Travis adjusted his sunglasses got real close to Mahito's face, and said "I never said anything about you being a part of it now did I Stitches?"

Travis knows antagonizing this man will make him more likely to come after him but Travis is counting on that. He has fought weirder opponents and if anything better Mahito comes after him than someone else. Especially not Holmes and Rebecca who seem way out of their depth. He has no idea of the capabilities of Mahito and they don't look like fighters. Someone like Mahito could eat them for breakfast.

Then Rebecca and Holmes began discussing something privately. He turns his back and lets them have their discussion. At the same time, he side-eyes Mahito while they are talking. Making sure he is not eavesdropping on them. That is when he is surprised to hear Holmes say that Mahito can help them in the event they meet up during the Death Games and Travis turns around shocked.

"Wait you can't be serious!" he shouts.

While yes theoretically there is strength in numbers Travis also can't protect them from Mahito and fight him at the same time. And if Mahito takes one of the two hostage he's not sure what he would do if that happens. It all seemed like a bad idea.

When Rebecca says that he'll help him he's thankful. The more his chances increase to winning this thing the better.

"What can I say I am a gentleman, don't get any ideas though Ms. Chambers. I am a married man." Travis said.

With that, he waves the two goodbye. And then walks to the train that takes him to his next destination before stopping by Mahito. Not even bothering to look him in the eye.

"You heard it from Sherlock Holmes himself, behave yourself now Stitches," Travis said.

And then pats Mahito on the shoulder before leaving. And giving him a two-finger salute while walking away.