probe | GRAVEYARD ✨

GRAVEYARD ✨

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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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]

[kaz just stares at him

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

[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.

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!

Statement: Your sparse feedback has been noted. Let us see if I can improve.

[in a smoothly programmed and well-practiced movement, the rifle is taken off his back and once again in his hands—and before kaz can scramble his way off the couch there's another pinkred flash and the PEW-woom of a second blaster bolt, this one shot squarely in the center of the forehead

how does living with a hole in your head work? hopefully kaz had time to chat to fukuda and get some tips!]

[the blaster bolt hits kaz clean between the eyebrows, and the recoil from the force of the shot knocks his head backwards.

this, time, there's no scream—just a sudden gurgled bark of a noise, before the bonk of his skull bouncing off the back of the sofa and wall behind it like a rubber ball.

there's no movement. he's just laying there, eyes wide, blood pouring out and down his face, soaking anew into his clothing and the sofa. yeesh.

there's a good few seconds where it looks like he might really be dead—until a small voice chokes out, in a bare whisper:]

Five stars. Twenty out of twenty. Please just go away.

[Kaz Kaan is, regrettably, still alive.]

Edited 2021-02-23 07:29 (UTC)

Response: Excellent. I am happy to be of service.

[and, like the good and obedient bot he is, he does go away after a moment more of observing his work

that is, until 14 minutes or so later when he comes back to see if headshots heal up the same way or not]

Confirmation: Despite the eventual regeneration, the injury does cause a good amount of pain?

Edited 2021-02-23 07:55 (UTC)

[kaz has not moved in 14 minutes because kaz is in a lot of pain and a lot of well-deserved despair. but when hk-47 re-enters the room, the wound has healed enough that he actually jolts, jumping out of his pool of blood for the first time, on his feet and on the defense, arms akimbo.]

Ah! No more! I even said please!

[wait]

...You're seriously still looking for feedback?

Response: It is important for the improvement of my function. It is very rare to be able to converse with those I've shot in the head.

Uh...

[he feels high. if only he could be so lucky, because he would totally do a drug right now. no, this was definitely, really happening.]

Okay, look. This place sucks. If I give you all the... the information you need, will you help me? Because I'm down a butler, and if you don't start helping me out, I'm gonna have major PTSD with Charles.

Acknowledgement: I have conducted enough practical testing for the moment, so if I am able to better understand the new rules we are subject to by gaining your cooperation I shall assist with your meatbag desires in turn.

[he holds up a finger before kaz can answer]

Addendum: However, I have no sexual organs or desire for physical contact with squishy, fluid-filled organic bodies.

[gonna have to get your rocks off elsewhere, kaz!]

I would literally—and I mean literally in this case in the actual, literal sense, and not the oft-used hyperbolic one—rather you shot me in the head again than engage in any kind of kinky shit with you, so... let's just agree to never mention or talk about that ever again.

[even with a face covered in blood, it's not hard to see his disgust at the notion. he waves it away, banishing that shitty topic to the land of wind and ghosts.]

Do you know what a butler does? Basically, I tell you what to do, and you do it. And in return, I'll give you all the details you want about... getting shot in the face. [he grimaces.] Deal?

It's quite a bit more than just that [Grell pipes up, from where she's apparently just been watching all the murder.]

I've worked as a butler before, it's not an easy job.

[kaz stares at grell for a long moment, as if he's rolling a few different things to say over in his head. finally:]

If you want to be my butler too, I'm not going to say no.

... perhaps I could train you to be my butler instead.

It's a very useful skill set to acquire.

No, thank you. [he recoils immediately, but smooths himself over, adding on:] I'm already employed, and I find that good help has pride in what they do!

You never know when you might find yourself in a situation that requires it. I certainly wasn't planning on it, but I had to go into disguise in service for a few months, and butlering gets you the most access.

Hard pass! I already have a butler who can disguise himself as a butler.

But you won't always have him. For example, right now.

(no subject)

bachelorbored - 2021-02-24 08:10 (UTC) - Expand

Response: I am familiar with the concept of inorganic servants, having been forced into similar roles in the past.

Proposal: While I would enjoy hearing all the details of your experience of my shooting you, are you certain that you wouldn't rather I kill someone for you in exchange instead?

Nah. Well... not right now?

[kaz considers it. hmm.]

...How about we enter a mutually-agreed-upon master-servant relationship? We can... work out a contract, and stuff like that. We can benefit each other's indulgence stuff, and nobody has to have sex with anyone!

Agreement: Very well then, meatbag. If you require some mundane tasks in exchange for the grisly details of your averted deaths I can assist. I do not require a contract. [droids have no legal rights anyway so]

Addendum: And should you require my...particular set of skills then you need only ask. You will find me an enthusiastic collaborator.

Cool. Um. Well, if anyone who isn't you tries to shoot me in the head, I guess I'll consider it...?

[hmm!]

Anyway, first things first! The beds here terrible, and, considering my noble task, [he taps the tattoo on his hand—"sloth"] I can hardly indulge with shitty sleep. Any ideas?

Suggestion: I could render you unconscious in any variety of ways. Some are not even that painful.

No! Nope! Hard pass!

Just rip up the couch that isn't covered in blood, please! We can use that to pad out one of the beds upstairs!