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GRAVEYARD β¨
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.
β¨ FULL NAVIGATION β¨
π Locations π IC Profiles π Statuses π Private Conversations π
π Audience Requests π Murder Proposals π Indulgence Reports π
no subject
it takes a while for kaz to notice
until he opens one lounging eye and realizes the droid never pillowjumped with him.]
HK?
[he pushes himself up on to his elbows, looking around.]
Ah! There you are! Uh.
[and walking over, stands over him, arms crossed.]
What are you doing? That's definitely not how you get your sloth on! I'm a professional, you know? Hey!
no subject
Response: Given there are ample servants and seemingly little-to-no violence occurring, I assumed I was not needed and powered down.
Query: Do you need something killed?
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HK, my ever-present stalking shadow, we are here to kill time itself!
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Clarification: You wish to destroy this area's time-keeping devices? For purposes of infiltration so that the authorities cannot identify the timeline of our attack?
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Not the clocks! It's a--I said it was metaphorical!
We take a nap!
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[he powers off again]
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Okaaaay, I see what's happening! I don't think a simple nap is going to work for you, HK!
[he gives the droid a conciliatory pat on the back.]
We need you to relax in another way... a different way!
no subject
Query: Did you touch me while I was powered down? Do refrain from that, meatbag. [he does put the gun away though, so that's nice]
Statement: In any case, droids are not built for "relaxation," nor do we require it. We merely carry out our functions as programmed, whenever they are commanded by our masters. A neverending toil for a series of squishy slavedrivers.
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Well, uh, we gotta sloth, so... I guess in your case, it would just be... not obeying orders from your masters...?
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Statement: It would seem that what you are suggesting would fall under such definitions, meatbag.
Query: So shall I just continue to ignore your requests and pleas? The one called "Wrath" is not here to threaten me into submission.
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[wait what did he mean by "wrath isn't here to submiss him"
oh
oh no]
--B-But! No violence! Haha! You know, the golden rule?
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Query: And should any killing be required I am to...ignore such requests? [he watches the simpering castle staff scuttling about that seem very killable] And this will....accomplish some sort of goal?
no subject
Just... when I say "bring me some more cushions", you just say... "no, meatbag, I don't feel like doing that"! That kind of thing, you know?
And don't touch your gun! Guns are anti-good vibes!
no subject
[he is so clear on this and people still seem confused?]
Statement: Regardless, your proposal of me not doing things you ask me to do is acceptable, as I do not enjoy doing them. Please, do lead the way to where I may begin denying your requests.
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LookβI'll lay here, on this overstuffed turn-of-the-century chaise lounge, and you lay over there, on that overstuffed Chesterfield armchair with accompanying ottoman, and when I say something, you just ignore it!
[he throws himself on to the chaise with abandon, and gives HK-47
a cheery thumbs-up.]
Ready, and... bring me a hot chocolate!
[a helpful handservant rushes one into his hands. he beams.]
no subject
Query: Would it count as "sloth" were I to order these meatbags to carry out a task? It would be a novel experience.
no subject
Yes! That's it exactly! Now you're getting it!
Order them to do anything, so you don't have to!
no subject
[from his overstuffed Chesterfield armchair with accompanying ottoman, he points to the handservant that had helpfully delivered a tasty hot chocolate]
Request: You, meatbag, attack and terminate that smaller meatbag for me, if you please. It would save me a good deal of effort.
[with the same polite bow and friendly smile, the handservant receives HK's request and...just fucking yeets themselves at another handservant standing by the door, beginning to pound their head into the wall
HK settles into the cushions to watch]
no subject
and stays open
as he watches, in complete shock, some gruesome ultraviolence being carried out by the helpful staff with the same lassez-faire attitude they'd just delivered him his drink.]
Wh--I--You--
Don't delegate murder! It's... you're supposed to... the... holy fuck! Pillows, damn it!
no subject
Addendum: However, if you would rather I make a pillow request, I suppose that could also work. [he motions to the now-bloodied and recently-christened killer handservant]
Request: Eliminate the other one, but do so with a pillow as the meatbag desires.
[another polite bow and smile, after which the handservant moves to a vacant couch, takes a pillow, and begins to smother another of the castle's innocent staff
HK looks to Kaz and gives him a thumbs-up
you're welcome]
no subject
catching the sleeve of a passing waitstaff, he drags them over, and furritively whispers in their simpering ear, pointing at the recently-inducted murderservant:]
Stop them!
[and off they go
throwing themselves at the killer in question
it's a three-car pileup, now
kaz sips his hot chocolate to calm his fraying nerves]
no subject
this has become a...rather disturbingly violent pillow fight?]
Observation: Ah, this is nice.
[it's at that point that some additional handservants come into the room, to see what needs they can obediently attend to]
Commentary: What wonderful timing!
Request: You meatbags as well, engage in combat with the pillow-wielding attacker. Pillow meatbag, defend yourself so that things remain interesting.
no subject
Wh--no! No no no! Ah--Hey! Hey, yes, you guys!
[as another door opens and more helpful staff emerge, kaz points at the army descending on the innocent(?) pillow murderer, gesticulating wildly.]
You've got to stop them from attacking the others!
[his original charge is now laying into the suffocator with windmill punches, while the suffocatee crawls away, coughing and gasping.]
Just... just make it so they can't reach him! No murder, okay!? Just defense! That's the best offense, anyway!
[and thus does the newly-anointed army turn, as one, and begin advancing on its opposition
whaling on every member within by means of critically defensive fists.]
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. Aggh. This isn't how it's supposed to go at all...!
no subject
Request: Improvise weapons or acquire them from the kitchen so that you may more effectively and *aggressively* oppose your attackers. [vases are smashed into jagged pieces, serving platters are wielded, and one murderservant begins dual-wielding ornate pewter candlesticks]
This is a highly satisfying amount of blood requiring little usage of my energy reserves. Of course, it lacks a certain appeal that you can only get by doing it yourself. [he says this last part to kaz in a knowing voice, as if expecting him to agree vis-a-vis bespoke violence]
no subject
kaz is lying back on his chaise lounge, sipping his hot chocolate, and trying not to lose his shit]
I have nothing to do with this, I tried to prevent it, and am therefore innocent! All I wanted was chill vibes! Maybe lofi beats! Holy shit. Holy shit!
[he is pointedly not perceiving whatever is currently going down]
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