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Kostya wheezed his discomfort, slowly sitting up with an abrupt toss of his head.

"Am not," he called up to the blue sky above, even if he had a headset that would convey his disapproving words well enough, "your comrade." Licking the grit from his teeth, Kostya snarled and sat up, pressing a hand to his pounding head. The body nearby was comatose, naked as the day he was born.

(Isn't this a familiar sight, in the sahara, naked and --)

"Something down here," Kostya continued, weapon summoned to form around his arm, giving off a dim light, a spectrum of cyan to blood red. "Investigating." Kostya moved slowly, in case it was, in fact, alive.

Seeing Jack's face-- when he had just seen him a few moments ago, sunburnt and dehydrated-- was less of a surprise and more of a cause for concern. He wondered what stage they were in; if it could still be cowed by a figure of authority, or if he had already learned his own strength.

Kostya scowled up at the mouth of the pit. "You did not mention you had clones, Jack."

The clone continues playing dead.

"Apparently so," Kostya said to Rep, tone clipped. The clone wasn't moving; due to either catatonia or death, it was hard to tell the cause. But they did not die, did they? Taym's information had never been shared with him.

For all his familiarity with clones, the creation of them was a spot of blankness in Kostya's mind. It was a swirling emptiness that he had never thought to question, to analyse.

He had no suspicions that the Jack up there might be a clone-- after all, the others had never wielded a weapon, and Kostya knew very well how long it took for them to be passable-- but it was, ah. Well. Unnerving.

"Bag did not come down vith me," he continued with a tired sigh. "Check up there? Is rope in there, long enough to reach to bottom. Strong enough to haul up body, but not both of us. Better to get all up rather than too many down in hole."

"Exactly. Rep gets it." More thumbs up. "Alright. Spot us."

With the rope unfurled, Jack made his way down into the pit, humming to himself the same tune the woman had for an age. For all the world, he might not have been lost in the desert but just suffering from a pale complexion with how quietly eager he was. "Arm canon sounds like a good precaution, too," he said to Kostya in passing as he wiped his face of sweat with the back of his arm.

He approached the clone slowly and noisily, announcing his presence in case the thing was skittish. Wouldn't do for it to make them chicken run around the hole. "Hello, beautiful," Jack murmured as he drew near, one hand hidden under his coat and touching the runic torch's handle; his daze was more of an act than it was a persistent condition, and he still clearly remembered the dangers spoken of. If the clone didn't move before he came too close, he would drop to a crouch. "Move slow and we won't have anything to worry about. Go on, sit up."

"I have also had dream of strange quality," Kostya conceded, although their details always slipped out of his grasp like an oil-slick eel. They were dark and insidious, the details evaporating in the light of day.

He bristled at Jack's decision to descend, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. The last time he'd fallen into one of these holes they'd held him for quite some time. Kostya had no desire to repeat the experience.

The clone twitched, and Kostya had minimal patience.

"Is better if ve haul it up," he murmured, quiet, even if there wasn't a point: the clone could likely hear him anyway. Murmuring from above played in Kostya's earpiece, and--

"Rep," Kostya started, cagey and on edge-- and, perhaps, that was a trace of fear creeping into his voice-- "vhat is that."

Tayms. Oh, good.

"Get up the rope, go, go," he urged Kostya, dipping to his knees to try and sling the clone's arm around him. "Don't stop. I can handle this guy." Maybe. Saying so was the first step in towards accomplishing it anyway.

He half expected Mr. Limp Noodle to start biting and tearing into him like a rabid animal anyway. Such would be his luck at this point. Jack doubted they could haul this thing up before both parties met, but damn if he wasn't going to try.

The worst of suspicions, confirmed. The world slowed to a crawl, a buzzing in his ears that was either adrenaline, his heartbeat, or both. He wondered which ones were here this time, and felt nothing but foolish for getting caught in the same trap twice. <********," was all Kostya said as he made for the wall, both hands grasping the rope strongly to try and pull himself up before the circling vultures took the plunge. Lack (for he was Jack, for he lacked), scurried behind his progenitor, scared. Ah: early enough in the development, then. Before he knew his strength. Before he was smart enough to use it.

And so, Kostya began to ascend. But would it be fast enough?

"I know, I know," he shushed his clone gently, pushing Lack's bangs back with strange affection. Maybe the sun had really gotten to him. "Nasties. They put you here, didn't they? But you could be so much more than bait, beautiful, trust me." Jack gestured for the clone to take refuge in the shade. "Stay safe and stay low. I'll come back for you once we're in the clear, alright?"

Without waiting for a response, he clambered up the rope after Kostya, eager to help clear this mess up.