Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Yes. Er, no. Mmm, both. We're nothing more than observers - like ghosts, if you will - so we can travel over as much of his memory as he can recall. You can touch him, try to talk to him, anything you want but he won't react. Unless it's his actual conscious, which we're looking for. Come, I'll show you. We have to go in anyway to make sure that's not the real him." As Sloth spoke he stretched his arm out and watched it pass through the wall harmlessly. It was like moving through a wall of gas, the way the image blurred but still stayed together around whatever foreign objects moved through it.
Once completely through, Sloth moved towards Nikolai and leaned over to gaze at him. No reaction. Just a tired stare at the conveyor belt and a repetitive pull of a lever.

"I'm so tired..."

The memory didn't move his mouth, but Nikolai's voice echoed with omnipresence around them. It barely sounded like him. There was no lazy slur or mischievous undertone. It sounded tired, ready to rest. It sounded just like the memory looked.
Sloth didn't react. "His thoughts during this time." he answered before Leon could even ask. His face scrunched up suddenly. "What an awful time he must have been through to have so many split ends." he said with a disgusted tone. He moved his hand forward to try and touch the hair, knowing that his hand would pass through. But it was too much to ask for to get him to stand and stare at the atrocity.

Sloth looked at Leon then at Nikolai then back at him, nodding and moving away. Eventually the darkness of the Dream World returned, but for a short time. It was replaced by scenery similar to what they had just walked out of. The only difference now was that it was dark out and people were leaving the factory. Among those workers was Nikolai, who looked like he'd drop at any moment.
"Boy." a voice said in Russian. It repeated itself a second time when no one reacted, this time gaining Nikolai's attention. It was a Soviet soldier with a look in his eyes that were as cold as the snow around him. "I've seen you work here lately. Aren't you a bit too young?"
"My father is sick, so I'm working for him.
" replied Nikolai, who avoided the guard's stare.
"Hmm." the guard murmured. There was something off in his eyes. Maybe that's why Nikolai avoided staring at him. "Come with me, boy." he said and grabbed the younger man's wrist, forcing him off in a direction.
Nikolai looked at his arm for a second, as if wondering if this was really happening, then tugged at it. "Where are you taking me?
" he said. Even in this situation was he still tired.
"I need to perform an inspection." the guard answered while dragging the teen towards a tool shack not far from them.

Sloth watched the drama with limited amusement. Then suddenly recognition showed in his face. He looked at Leon then grabbed his arm, ushering him forward. "Come now, dearie. We really should be on our way. I'm sure this isn't the real Nikolai, anyway, wouldn't you agree? Yes, that's right. One foot after the other. Let's go." he hurried just as the guard forced the teen into the shack.

But no one did.
People walked away, going about their dull lives. There were some that looked to the shack, some that heard the muffled cries and rattling items, but tilted their heads down in silent shame as they ignored what they passed.
The guard was harsh and unforgiving, an animalistic grin stretched across his face as he clamped his hand over Nikolai's mouth to cover his wails. Tears prickled Nikolai's wide eyes. He clawed at the crooked table he was bent over, or at the hand covering his mouth.

"It hurts! It hurts it hurts! Make it stop! Please! Make it stop! IT HURTS!"

His mind shouted and screamed in his place as the attack raged on.

"Are you happy now, darling?" asked Sloth from behind Leon, his arms crossed. He watched the blood drip down his host's bare legs. "No one helps him. People would rather keep quiet then challenge the Soviet army. At least that's what Nikki-dear thinks. If you're done watching we really must be off."

The scenery change wasn't much of a change again. Instead of nighttime it was now daylight, and the two found themselves inside a small home.
"You're still leaving?" a sad voice asked from the bedroom. It was familiar, too. When Sloth peered in he saw Miranda clutching a bedsheet to her bare chest as she watched the moving figure, looking like she'd burst into tears. "After everything I told you? Don't you love me too?"
The man dusted off his work uniform and turned around to smile apologetically at her. It was Nikolai. He looked older and more energetic than before, though some exhaustion could be seen now and then. "No, not really." he replied. "You shouldn't love me, anyway. You've got a husband, after all."
"But he's not you, Nikolai!" Miranda argued while slamming her fists against the firm mattress. "All these years together and you don't feel anything for me?"
"No." replied the man with ease.

"If I love someone then I won't get to sleep with anyone else."

Before Miranda could plead her case over why he should stay, Nikolai slipped out the window and left for work.

"Now that's the Nikolai I know." grinned Sloth. The young worker had a bounce in his step and got along well with many people he passed by, or hateful looks from people he didn't see. It was a lot like how he was today.
The dream sped time up and showed him work for only a brief moment. Two guards in special uniforms far different from the Soviets hurried in and grabbed Nikolai from the arms. He tensed up and looked at them, asking them what they were doing.
"You're to be thrown in a gulag for your threats towards General Stalin." one answered.
"What?" coughed Nikolai. "But I-" He was hit hard at the back of the head by the other soldier. He was dragged out of the factory, a few people glancing at him as they tried to continue their work in fear of becoming like him. He was thrown in a vehicle, and as it sped away he caught a brief glimpse of Miranda glaring through her window.

"Goodness, I wish you had brought popcorn." commented Sloth with a yawn. That Nikolai didn't even give them a passing glance, so it was safe to say it wasn't him. "Come, come. We can only guess what his next memory will be, hmm?" he teased while walking to the blizzard just past the patch of darkness.

"It's more that I'm used to it, dearie." corrected Sloth as he rubbed his hands together for warmth. "These are his dreams, after all, and if you haven't noticed by now, he likes to sleep. A lot. Although there's certainly nothing wrong with that." He looked up at the flurry of snow that descended upon them. The more they walked the more aggressive the snow became. Sloth glanced over at Leon when he spoke. "Of course I do, dearie. I know him better than you~" he purred before pointing ahead of them, where a building got closer. "Even if I didn't, I certainly would now."
They were at the gates of the gulag. The large, ten foot fence that barred its prisoners loomed over them eerily, twitching with the blazing winds. Guards stood and wandered around, some attacked prisoners physically, some verbally. The prisoners wore thin outfits and looked even thinner. Many were doing labor that ranged from readying war products to cleaning up after the guards. It was like seeing something out of the history books.
"Hmm, how droll." commented an unfazed Sloth. He turned to Leon. "You understand Nikki-dear well, hmm? And you're a psychology teacher, no less! Come, come, tell me where he is, yes?"

Sloth followed Leon's gaze to the lanky person that looked like they'd fall from the wind alone. He squinted in hopes of seeing better, but suddenly two Soviet guards walked over to him. One hit the back of his head with the butt of their rifle, sending him to his knees and wincing in pain, and the other grabbed a fistful of his short brown hair, yelling something. By the way the yelling guard was motioning and moving the man's head, it was clear that he wanted some special service.
"Hey!" a voice boomed.
Sloth turned to see a man in the same jaded uniform as Nikolai. His hair was shorter and just as brown, but his build was thicker and his eyes unbroken. "Leave him alone!" he yelled in Russian.
The guards stared at the prisoner in astonishment for a moment, stunned that someone like him would even as much as talk to them. In a burst of rage, the first guard let go of Nikolai with enough force to throw him on the snowy ground and stormed over to the man, hitting him with his rifle. The man may have looked stronger than Nikolai, but he wasn't as strong as the guards and fell just as easily. The two guards attacked the man ruthlessly, intent on beating him to death. They stomped, spat, yelled, punched, scratched, and more. Nikolai crawled his way towards the mess and grabbed onto the coattail of one of the Soviets. He muttered something as the man turned, then the other one stopped his rampage to look at the weakling as well. They stayed still as they listened to Nikolai's proposition. After a silent moment they exchanged looks then muttered something to the fallen man.

"Ah, that's Grigori." realized Sloth. He observed the wounded man from a distance. No wonder he didn't recognize him so easily. A place like this would warp anyone's appearance.
He glanced around as the snow strengthened and blocked their view. By the time it lightened up the guards were gone. Even with little to nothing in his stomach, Nikolai bent over the side of a shabby building and vomited as Grigori sat beside him, forearms on his knees.
"Why'd you do it?" he finally asked.
Nikolai spat the remnants of what he had to offer and looked at Grigori. "If they didn't do it then someone else would've." he responded then sat down across from him. "But why did you help me? I thought you hated me."
"I do." Grigori answered easily. "You ruined my life and my wife. But..." He looked over at the snow for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "Something like that, no one should have to go through that."
Nikolai stared at Grigori, offering nothing in reply.

"Tch, how sweet." cooed Sloth. The snow strengthened again. If they were switching memories like this then Nikolai must've dreamt them connected. When the blizzard ended, Sloth lowered his arm and saw Soviet guards standing in front of a mess of prisoners.
"The Germans are approaching," said a pacing guard. "We must send soldiers to meet them with this bitter snow. Lives like yours are meaningless and are perfect for something like this. You may join the army if you are willing, or stay here."
Nikolai stared at the guards. He had no intention of leaving for the war. Death was everywhere there. At least here he could cling to the hope of surviving another day.
"I'll go."
The young man quickly turned his head to see Grigori move forward to meet a Soviet. Inhaling quickly, Nikolai grabbed his arm to stop him from moving. "What are you doing?" he hissed.
"I'm leaving this place." Grigori whispered back. "We both know this place is a graveyard that gets filled more and more each day. If I join the army then maybe, just maybe, I can leave this God forsaken country."
Nikolai let go of Grigori and watched him stand beside the Soviet. Leave Russia. Now that was a dream out of reach. He looked around to see others leave, then looked at the fence. Could it be possible, though? Maybe he could just run from the fight and try and make it out. Even then, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he died in the war. Dying from a bullet beat dying from the snow. Gulping the hesitation and fear that climbed up his chest, Nikolai stepped forward to meet Grigori and the Soviet.

"Were you ever in the Army, dearie?" asked Sloth as he examined his nails mindlessly. "Honestly, it's like watching a movie. I suppose I should have expected these memories. They have Grigori, after all."

By the time Leon would look back at the Sin, he'd see a mischievous grin on the man's face. Still wearing that smile, Sloth bent over to pick up some snow and shaped it into a ball. "One second, dearie." he said and straightened up. He pulled his arm back then launched the snowball at Nikolai, seeing it pass through him harmlessly. Just a memory. "Alright, let's go." He said and moved through the snow and into the darkness. Like last time the snow returned quickly, but there was something else mixed into it. There were the faint sounds of popping and inaudible shouts. Suddenly the noise was surrounding them like the snow. There were bright lights that flashed every second and caused some poor victim to blow up in a burst of red. The war Nikolai was from.
Sloth stepped around a freshly made corpse and looked around, quickly spotting the thin Russian, he nudged Leon and pointed in the direction.
Nikolai trembled as he held the rifle in his hands. He had only held it a couple of times but this would be his first time firing it. He had no idea what to do, how to do it. Shaking hands tried to get the bullets into the gun, but they would slip to the ground and leave him cursing under his breath. The Nazis came so fast, the Soviets had little time to react. Even with the harsh winter biting at the advancing army they were committed to taking out as many Russians with them as they could. In the midst of the chaos Nikolai had lost track of Grigori, whom would have definitely helped him survive. Maybe that was a good thing. He'd hinder Grigori, who made a fine soldier. He'd just be extra weight to him.
Finally getting a bullet in, Nikolai lifted himself from the broken wall he had hid behind and tried to aim his gun. He could barely see any soldiers, they were like tiny dots to him. He tried to focus on the flashes of lights he'd see, hoping to get a better glimpse of nearby people.
His breath was short and shaky, the gun wavered dangerously in his trembling hands, his aim was far too off. Stopping his breathing for a second, Nikolai pulled the trigger and fell down from recoil. He paused to let his ringing ears adjust, then he got back up to see if he had gotten a hit. As soon as he stood up a bullet shot through his right arm. Nikolai stood still for a moment, registering what happened. Then he looked at his bleeding arm and whimpered in shock. In a desperate attempt to get out of any more harm's way he practically fell to the ground and pressed his back against the wall. He kept clamping his hand over his arm, as if blocking it out of his sight would convince him that it wasn't there. Warm blood gushed through his fingers, his arm felt like it was fire. Tilting his head back Nikolai let out a scream of pain.
"Be quiet!" spat a soldier that ran and took cover at the other side of the wall Nikolai was at. The man glanced around for a second, fired a couple rounds, then looked back at the wounded man. "If you scream anymore like that then you'll give away your position to them. Got it?"
Forcing his screams down, Nikolai nodded. The soldier pursed his lips at him then looked back over the wall. He raised his rifle and fired a few more times, sinking back into shelter. It felt like hours that they were there, cowering behind crumbling concrete in hopes of keeping their lives long enough to see another bloody day. And yet, through all that Nikolai felt hopeful. This man knew what he was doing. Maybe he could help, maybe-
The man went up again, and before he could fire a bullet shot through his head, popping it like a balloon. Nikolai clamped his good hand over his mouth to keep from screaming. Blood splattered all over him and his wide, horrified eyes helplessly watched the now headless man fall to the ground and soak the snow in crimson blood. This couldn't be happening, this wasn't real. This was a worse hell than in the gulags! He had to escape, he had to get free! Slowly lowering his trembling hand to his bleeding arm, Nikolai gulped and look around at the broken wall. He was so scared. He needed to look to see if he could escape from here, but they shot here twice already, they knew there were people here! Holding back the bile that wanted to rise up his throat, Nikolai peered over. His eyes widened and he quickly looked back.
The Nazis were advancing, they were on their way here! They'd see him if he tried anything and shoot him on the spot! He didn't want to die, he had to think fast!
Nikolai looked around, praying that the answer would be right next to him.
It was.
He stared at the corpse next to him. Play dead. If he got on the ground and feigned being dead too, then maybe the Nazis would walk over him and ignore him. But he was only shot in the arm, they wouldn't be convinced. Nikolai suddenly felt a weight hang over his stomach. No, he knew what to do.
Looking over when he heard the sound of German shouts, Nikolai turned back to the soldier's body. He tried not to gag or whimper and grabbed the cadaver, pulling it over his body like a blanket so that its blood could run over him and make his "death" more convincing.
The soldiers walked by and glanced at him for a brief second. Just as Nikolai hoped for, they passed by him and advanced towards more soldiers. He wanted to be happy and run, but he couldn't. He had to keep hiding. The soldiers were so close, and bullets were flying everywhere. And so Nikolai stayed. He cried to himself as he was forced to bear witness to the countless bodies bursting into streams of red that contrasted brightly with the snow. His ears rang with the screams and gunfire, his arm hurt the more he thought about it, he gave up on relying on his sense of smell because the corpse's disgusting stench would make him vomit.

Sloth said nothing. He ignored the hellscape and the bodies that fell around him. He didn't even look like he cared. When he got to the actor, he crouched down and swatted his hand at him, watching in bemusement as it passed through the crying figure. "Just a memory." he sighed and got up to look at Leon. "I'm getting quite tired of walking. You should carry me."

After Leon spoke the snow picked up again. The darkness of night gave way to another day's light. Nikolai, however, stayed in his spot. The Nazis that had passed over him were dead, shot more than once. He could tell there was another wave on the way, but he couldn't stay here any longer. He was cold, he could barely feel his fingers. The weak soldier wriggled himself away from the headless body and sat up on his knees. He breathlessly looked around. Where could he go? There were no places to hide that were far from here in this lifeless landscape. He was completely stranded.
Falling to his rear and pressing his back against the frosty wall, he cupped his hands together and breathed against it for any attempt at warmth. He was hungry. Any longer and he wouldn't survive. Feeling as though any kind of hope were escaping him, Nikolai pondered the notion of crying. No, he didn't think he had any tears left after what he saw last night. Just how long would those kind of images haunt his mind? Even with the worst of it said and done he could still see it so vividly whenever he blinked.
There were shouts again, but something about it made Nikolai lift his head. He looked around at first to see which direction it came from, but then pinpointed it when he heard it again. There was a soldier propped up against another, smaller wall. He shouted things over his shoulder then shot forward at the approaching wave. Grigori. Nikolai paused, gulped, then got to his feet. Could it really be him?
It started off with a hoarse whisper, then the volume picked up the closer Nikolai got to his old comrade. "Grigori!" he shouted. He didn't care if the Nazis saw him, he didn't care if he got shot. Grigori was there, and that's all that mattered.
The bigger soldier didn't react at first, but after about the third cry he turned his head and hesitated at the sight. He was motionless at first, then a bright smile cracked over his face, it was radiant enough to banish those haunting images from Nikolai's mind. The smaller man felt tears prickle his eyes as he got closer and closer to his friend. Of course, happiness didn't exist in a war zone.
It was a distant noise, at first. Almost like hearing a fly. It got closer, just like Nikolai did. He flickered his gaze up and stumbled in his step as he saw it. A plane flew at them, smoke protruding from it like a tail and barely covering the proud swastika it had painted on its metal. It screamed with its downward descent, but it wouldn't go down alone. A twin trail of bullets shot out of it, starting a few feet behind Grigori and working its way up.
Nikolai didn't know what to do, how to think. He looked back at Grigori, who gleefully motioned for him to hurry. The excited cries he once held turned into a frightful scream as the helpless soldier tried to tell Grigori to run.
He didn't. Grigori continued smiling ever as brightly at his friend, eager to reunite with someone he was sure had died. He never knew what hit him.
The bullets shot right through him, tearing into him easily and making his body lurch around like a ragdoll. One, two, maybe eight, probably more. Who knows how many bullets lodged into him? He stared at the sky in disbelief for a moment, then, with a bloody cough, he fell to the ground.
Nikolai heard a scream then realized it was his. His malnourished body carried him as fast as it could. One of the plane's bullets got him in the leg before crashing into the ground ways beyond him. He fell hard against the cold snow but refused to take up any time to bear with the pain. He clawed himself forward until he was running again.
The blood against the snow was a disgusting sight to be greeted with. Nikolai fell to his knees, ignoring the pain, and took in the horrendous sight. Grigori was a bloody lump of flesh. There were countless bullet holes through his body, and it was so hard to make out what color his uniform was with all the blood. Shaking in both breath and body, Nikolai tried not to vomit or scream again.
Grigori gasped something and Nikolai lurched forward. He cradled the man's head in his hands, his throat tightening with restrained sobs. Grigori looked at him and tried to say something, but all he could do was spurt out a noise and try to breath. It didn't last long. "I know." Nikolai reassured. He had no idea what was being said, but he wouldn't let the man die thinking he was unheard. "I-I know." Grigori croaked something one last time then slumped against his comrade's hands. Nikolai whimpered at his friend's death and bowed his head, crying. The only hope he had for anything had just been diminished, just like that.
He wasn't sure how long he had been crying. He couldn't feel anything. No hunger, no exhaustion, no pain, nothing. Was there a point to it, anyway? Now that the last person he had to live for was gone? There was no point. Nikolai tilted his head back and stared at the gray sky, his eyes empty. There was no point to anything.

"You've lost the will to do anything."

Nikolai didn't bother turning his head to search for the new voice. It was chillingly warm.

"You've lost so much, but now you've gained... apathy."

He appeared out of nowhere. In the middle of the war zone, two feet in front of Nikolai, was a man in an unusual outfit. His hair was white like the snow with gray streaks that reminded him of the sky. What was the most peculiar was the mask that covered the man's face. Despite that, Nikolai could tell the man was gazing at him.
Nobody else seemed to notice the strange man. Not even the two Nazis approaching the Soviet. Nikolai did nothing, he accepted his death freely. However, the soldiers kept their guns lowered as they advanced. They passed the masked man harmlessly and grabbed Nikolai, forcing him up.

"I will help you live again."

That voice was all Sloth could hear as the darkness fell over them. Light slowly made its way back into his vision until he could make out a new scene. It was a lab, so bright and busy. Nikolai was strapped to an operating chair, where two doctors loomed over him. On both of their arms was a red band that sported a swastika. One of them, whom had a large stitch line running across his face diagonally and slicked back mahogany hair, grabbed the edge of Nikolai's right sleeve and pulled it back to reveal smooth skin. The doctor turned to his desk to pick up a few chemicals and moved back to Nikolai. He sliced into the arm before setting the jelly-like substance over it.
Nikolai instantly reacted. He shrieked and rocked the chair back and forth in an attempt to free himself from the horrible, burning pain. The doctors, expressionless, stood back and merely observed. The skin that had been touched by the jelly was burning away and showing the sticky muscle beneath. Nikolai cried out again and again to people that did nothing but take notes like he was some sick show for them.
Then he stopped.
He stopped kicking and screaming and slumped against his seat, eyes empty and void of life. The doctors exchanged looks for a brief moment, then the one with stitches moved forward and snapped his fingers in front of Nikolai's face. "You're not allowed to die yet." growled the man.
The other doctor quickly got up and grabbed the man's arm, pulling him back. When the leading doctor gave him a questioning look the man responded by pointing at Nikolai's arm. The acidic burn was healing! The skin was patching itself together. Except for one part. There was something else occupying his forearm. There, as if it were etched crudely, was the word, "SLOTH".
An explosion of purple came from Nikolai, blowing the doctors back and making the soldiers storm in with their guns at the ready. Nikolai's screams returned, and as he did so the purple surrounded him like a thick fog. There were two glimmers of green inside it, then suddenly something lashed out towards one of the guards. The others watched their ally fall like a ragdoll then turned to see what had happened. In front of them, coiled around Nikolai, was what looked like an enormous purple cobra. It hissed at them and looked like it was grinning, then reared its fangs and shot out at another guard.
Nikolai cried out, his fingers clawing at the chair he was strapped to. His brown hair brightened to silver, and his hazel eyes glowed to a lime green.

"Dear me, I'm beginning to feel self-conscious." Sloth gushed while holding his cheek. He turned and moved down the hallway of the lab, ignoring the screams and yells at his back. "Come along, dearie. So much to do, so little time, hmm?"