The Bellators

4:9:1

 Alongside the metallic wooden walls of the decently lit room is an open rectangular doorway, though to and from where was yet to be discovered. Though approaching it from the other side is a pair of footsteps that progressively louden, or that is until they both abruptly stop nearly concurrently, and pause for several seconds. After the pause only one resumes, this one heavy with every step's impact pronounced only in greater volume the closer it approaches to the door until finally the sound is trailed by a visual of the golden cyborg's body entering through the doorway, its knees low to prime itself for an ambush, surveying through an eyeless gaze as its clawed hands remain sharp. Though the determination is made through the straightening of the posture and loosening of the hands as a signal for safety, one further relayed with the raising of one of those hands.

That signal is targeted for the resumption of the second set of footsteps to approach, though now distinguished from the first it lacks the same weight and pronunciation, instead far more mellow and reserved. Appropriately the body that enters through the doorway isn't one of the same stature nor clad in golden armor, but rather dressed perhaps inappropriate for battle given the far too casual hoodie and exposed skin. That exposure translates to natural anxiety as she glances back and forward through those wide pink irises, her long samely colored hair waving behind her with the turns, but ultimately she follows to the cyborg's side with a provided nod. The cyborg nods back though still facing forward without requiring forward sight of the gesture, for she chooses to put her focus ahead as does the other woman whose mouth opens in awe of the sight.

This sight is of another majorly open room that takes advantage of the long stretch of space each car has, though from their perspective there are about two stories to the visible room with the second one lacking any additional platforms but instead simply creating more open space. This area isn't wasted however, not the surface area nor the multiple stories as inhabiting the whole room is a dense grid of what seems to be hovering beds given the metal framing underneath the soft white mattresses, a grid that horizontally covers the majority of the room with every cell built of two beds nearly adjacent only separated by about a foot or so, though between every cell is a separation of several feet as aisles. Furthermore on the vertical axis there are several of these grids stacked in the air elevated about the distance of a bunk bed, towering so high that the top bunks aren't too far from the ceiling.

The result is a vast though dense array of beds like barracks, with an innumerable count fitting for an army, such as the one fought just previously. There is not an additional presence in the room other than the two intruders who slowly approach forward, for all those who'd slumber in the beds were now elsewhere, perhaps though slumbering too just on the cold floor after the skirmishes. While there are no other inhabitants of the room, the end door is hardly visible at all, at least from the other side.

Still, with a slight turn into one of the aisles given that the center line is taken by one of the grid columns, the two make their way down the room on their searching quest, walking side by side despite the aesthetic disparities between the two given one is hard to identify as human at all while another is one of the most informal appearance.

Glancing from side to side at the various empty beds which appear to be about the size of a Twin, perhaps slightly more but definitely nowhere near a Queen, the pink haired girl known as Kokei sighs softly before observing gently, "I can't imagine living here for years, sleeping in this giant room crowded with other people. It's like having roommates but...this is just too much. I mean what if one of them is a snorer, does just nobody sleep then?"

The response is spoken in a voice devoid of human accent but instead spoken with one reminiscent of a synth given its electric accent, the ally known as Dana giggles to that observation and shakes her head with the retort whose friendly demeanor pierces through the cold voice: "Always asking the truly pressing questions I see."