GRAVEYARD ✨

[probe]

POPULATION: GHOST TOWN

You die - and then you wake up.

For a second, it feels as though you can't breathe, and then your head breaks the surface. You crawl out of a pool of blood and into a large, crystalline room. Moving images play across the crystal walls, and if you watch close enough, you'll realize that you're seeing the land of the living; a familiar space station with familiar faces. You can watch these images for as long as you'd like - there are several very large benches (as in, you have to climb them to sit on them) around the room for you to rest on while you do.

Regardless of how you died, it seems as though you're not quite gone completely. You're in one piece, at least. That's good news. However, your surroundings are not exactly what you remember.

When you exit the first room, a bleak, empty city sprawls out ahead of you.

The city itself is large. The framework of it seems to tower higher and higher than you can see, up into the black opal sky that shivers and curls every so often. A river entirely made of blood runs through the city, winding around buildings and ending at the crystal room. The most noticeable thing about the buildings themselves is the fact that thorny vines made of pure white steel dig into the walls and floor, cracking the foundations.

The residential building is worn down and old. It's two floors, and has a few small studio apartments built for one or two people to live in. The beds are extremely uncomfortable. It has a communal area downstairs, but the TV is broken, and the couches are torn apart. Sometimes, this building feels obscenely hot in temperature, and smells like rotten eggs.

The grocery store is your typical convenience store. There's a large selection of food in this area, but it all tastes the same - like chalk. On top of this, every so often there will be bloodstains on the walls, the floor, and the displays. They change in size and location, each time you enter the store.

The clothing store is thrifty in nature. All the clothes here are uncomfortable and scratchy, and don't fit quite right. While you're here, time feels... weird. Distorted, almost dreamy. As you're picking out clothes and trying them on (no money needed, just take what you want), you swear you can hear a gunshot in the distance.

Enjoy your time in this city, and remember...your story isn't quite over yet.

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Comments

[brightred]

He certainly didn't kill either of us.

[bachelorbored]

Who cares? He was definitely going to!

[he looks at hk-47 expectantly]

[executeprogramming]

Clarification: Not immediately, but given our new circumstances...

[and he just, unloads a single plasma bolt shot from his rifle into Kaz's chest at close range]

[brightred]

Ugh, do you have to do that here? [Grell asks, holding a gloved hand up to her nose.]

[executeprogramming]

[while Kaz is dealing with...that, HK turns to chat with Grell, hello

also, to his credit, he only shot him once, and not even in the head! what a good boy]

Response: I wished to test something, and given this meatbag is most unlikely to fight back between the two of you [eyes the chainsaw warily] it was the most logical choice.

Clarification: Unless you mean you would have preferred a different location, in which case your preference has been noted.

[brightred]

[She means stop murdering in front of her salad thanks.]

How many shots do you have in that thing?

One didn't kill him.

[bachelorbored]

Don't encourage him, holy shit!

What is wrong with you two?!

[brightred]

[Is that a shut up, I'm trying to do something here sort of glare? Yeah, probably.]

[bachelorbored]

No no nonono! Whatever you're thinking, I don't want in!

[he's still got both hands on his wound, like grell might shoot him next]

[executeprogramming]

Reply: I have enough remaining for further...experiments, as well as any other purposes or enjoyments I may need them for.

[looking down at kaz lying in a pool of blood and complaining]

Observation: It does seem that things may work differently in this area. Given we appeared here following our sustaining lethal damage, I was curious if the meatbag would be transported to a new location or remain here in pain.

[brightred]

That's quite a lot of bullets.

Why did you... sustain lethal damage?

[executeprogramming]

Explanation: Oh it was really quite underhanded, which I could appreciate had it happened to anyone else. I was nominated to participate in the execution process [honestly real pumped for it] and given five minutes inside a locked room in which to kill my opponent. Further variables were introduced in the environment as the floor fell away and walls compacted inward. It was quite the spectacle, I can assure you.

Statement: I of course did not need such an amount of time to dispatch with a meatbag—even one as supposedly experienced as Shi Qingxuan—in hand-to-hand combat, but given my difficulties in engaging in violence of any sort this past week I believe I can be forgiven enjoying myself over the full time.

[it's at this point that his cheerful voice takes on an annoyed and venomous edge, the shift only serving to increase the strange effect of its tinny, radio-like quality]

Qualification: However, although I had entirely succeeded in the requested termination of the meatbag's life in accordance with the rules—and was simply preparing to exit the room to engage in further violence—the door did not open and instead I was suddenly and rather rudely crushed by a rapid increase in atmospheric pressure.

[plenty of time for casual narrative exposition as kaz lays bleeding]

[bachelorbored]

[the afore-mentioned puddle of blood kaz is laying in is spreading, soaking into the couch, its owner still groaning in pain. but even he has to exclaim at all of that.]

What the fuck!

Whoever made you is a real piece of shit. Were you going to--[he gurgles, coughing blood on to his hand, which he wipes on the couch]--seriously try and kill everyone?

[executeprogramming]

Answer: I was authorized to respond in kind if attacked by the meatbags watching the proceedings, and it was quite clear that they would have done so had I left the room.

[still probably under 15 minutes, so still a big ol' plasma hole through the chest there--HK looks at it with some fascination]

Observation: It must be quite painful to continue speaking. Perhaps you should limit the amount you are doing. [again, nothing but helpful tone here!]

[bachelorbored]

[kaz is just

deadpanning at him at this point, which is appropriate because he's dead.

but he folds both hands over his horrible wound, though, sinking completely into his blood-covered sofa cushions—and there's a shuddering sigh of pain before he finally speaks again.]

Let me see if I have this straight: you [he nods tiredly towards grell] died from a tightrope one versus one, and you [he just levels a look at hk-47] died at the execution.

And I died from that guy... doing whatever to me. Even though I beat him with that toblerone for such a long time... jeez.

[executeprogramming]

Clarification: Which "guy" and which "girl" were responsible for your respective murders, meatbags? I had my suspicions, but must admit I was quite surprised at the creativity with which you were slaughtered.

[bachelorbored]

[kaz screams, scrambling at the new hole in his chest with both hands, looking at both of the present parties in horror, mouth working, but nothing coming out except gasps of pain and despair.

he's laid back on the couch, shuddering and coughing up blood, trying to compress the wound with both hands before he finally heaves out:]

You shot me?!

[executeprogramming]

Commentary: Given your unimpressive physical constitution, under normal circumstances you would have no ability to ask such an obvious question. How curious.

Query: You are a standard human, correct? I do not see any cybernetic organs inside your gaping wound.

[bachelorbored]

I'm a magistocrat, you dick!

[he coughs again, blood splattering on hk-47 at close range, and tries to wave the evil robot away.]

You know what, I don't care how you died anymore! I hope it sucked!

[executeprogramming]

[at the very least, he replaces the gun onto his back and isn't actively menacing kaz with it anymore]

Analysis: "Magistocrat" is not a registered galactic species in my databanks. Still, given my experience with shooting humans I would say it is close enough.

Conjecture: Even though you are not currently dying, I wonder if the wound itself is permanent. The so-called "Avatars" reacted similarly to being lethally damaged. [he is both talking and not-talking to kaz, and his tone throughout is as cheery and servile as ever, like he's discussing strange weather]

[bachelorbored]

What? Are you saying you shot one of the sins?

Dude. You really just see the line and skip over it, huh?

[executeprogramming]

Clarification: I am not sure what line you are referring to. Was there a queueing system for assaulting the non-meatbags? I would not wish to be rude and skip ahead of others. [this...seems honest and not sarcastic? like in that he would let people get first crack at violence if there was a waiting list]

[bachelorbored]

[kaz just stares at him

then gesticulates his hands into a overwrought shrug, mouthing "what the fuck"]

[executeprogramming]

[jokes on you he can read lips probably

still, he doesn't get what that means anyway and probably ignores him until...regeneration kicks in and the bloody chest-hole begins to close back up]

Commentary: Well, that is certainly...new.

Query: Tell me, would you say the amount of pain felt is approximately the same regardless of your lack of death? How would you rate it on a scale of 1-20? It is not often I get the chance to speak to a meatbag after blowing them away.

[bachelorbored]

Huh? What is?

[it takes a second for the dots to connect—the pain is... fading, albeit not in any huge rush, and now that the healing is accelerating, even kaz can see that, underneath the scorched fabric of his double-breasted cardigan and shirt, the burnt and bloodied flesh is slowly starting to stitch itself back together. it's... horrifying, but somewhat relieving at the same time.]

Oh.

[but his head jerks back up at Hk-47's question, his brow knits. he doesn't like where this is going.]

--You want me to rate your performance?! One star! If I could give zero, and pay Yelp to remove your listing "on accident", I would!