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 Posted: Mon Apr 04, 2011 6:44 am
Well, contrary to popular belief, apparently purgatory was a lounge.
And a pretty swanky one at that. To the left was some sort of cocktail bar, though the shelves were stocked full of one's choice of poison, there seemed no captain aboard. A couple of empty glasses dangled from the bar.
On the right were an arrangement of giant plush couches. They were red, they were soft, and if one sat on them, extremely comfortable. One could probably sleep in them forever, well, if sans the dead part ruining the whole escapade.
Oh, that's right. You are dead. You died.
It sinks in.
You really ******** died. Before you really began to learn your name, before the full picture clicked in of what you were supposed to do here, you went and got yourself killed. Or some douchebags ended your life. Or you got mauled by some strange unknown creature.
Well, ******** that. ******** this whole room. You deserved better, you deserved to know more.
And why the hell were you in this lounge anyway?
((OOC:
THIS IS THE ORP TO GO TO RIGHT AFTER YOU DIE
- Simply post your character interacting with the environment around here, and anyone else who appears in it, INCLUDING other dead characters who come in here. Drinks are on us.. .but they might not do much for a dead person, you know
- You are at this point still wearing your masks + uniform. That might make drinking difficult too sad ITS THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS. ))
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Posted: Mon Apr 04, 2011 1:01 pm
His arm his arm, oh s**t his arm, it was broken, bleeding, it HURT ... and then there was an instant of pain, a loud CRACK of sound and then .... utter and complete darkness.
And then he woke up. Fiver blinked, pushing himself up to something of a sitting position on one of the couches in the room. The very COMFORTABLE looking room. Where ...what..? Hadn't his arm been broken? Hadn't there been fighting, and a Death Pony and ... had it all been a dream? No, it had been too real... all too real ... So then, what ... was this? Was he dreaming NOW, was he unconscious or in a coma or?
But slowly ... the realization came to him ... Oh ********, this wasn't a dream, none of it was a dream. He ... must have been killed. Must have died back there, and been sent ... here. Wherever here was. "Hello...?" he called, getting up off the couch and wandering toward the bar. "HEY! IS ANYONE HERE??!" No answer.
Heh. Apparently he was the first ... or this was some personal hell of his. Though it didn't seem much like hell with the whole comfy couches and cocktail bar bit. Not that he could do anything with the damn bar thanks to STILL BEING IN THIS ******** SUIT. After wandering around for a moment or two more, Fiver just ... slumped back onto that same couch and put his head in his hands. "Yea ... this's hell," he muttered. He didn't even know what had happened to everyone else ... it wasn't fair ...
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Posted: Mon Apr 04, 2011 5:24 pm
Beta Five didn't really hurt. Not really. He knew he was dead, at least (being attacked by five or six people all at once did that to you, strangely enough), but for some reason it didn't particularly bother him.
...at least the whole "dying" thing didn't. Now, the whole "ganged up on" thing, that was a little irritating. A lot, rather. What kind of messed up strategy is that, anyway? Five mused to himself as he sat, one leg crossed casually over the other, an arm draped across the back of a rather plushy red couch. I mean, they could have let me live just a LITTLE bit.
Well, what's done was done. No use still thinking about it. Besides, they were only doing what they had thought was the best, right?
And if he kept telling himself this, maybe Five would actually believe it, right?
The lounge where he had ended up was not exactly what he had expected. Elegant, elaborate, with high class fixtures and a glossy bar off to one side, it was most definitely not what Five had perceived the afterlife to be. Not that he was complaining, really. The only thing that was bothering him was this damn suit and mask. Why do I still have this on, again?
At least he wasn't alone. There was someone else in the room with him, someone dressed quite similarly, though in different colors. Five lifted a hand in greeting.
"So," he said conversationally. "What are you in here for?"
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Posted: Mon Apr 04, 2011 5:53 pm
Fiver hadn't even noticed when someone else showed up ...until the newcomer spoke to him. Then he stiffened slightly and raised his head, blinking. Not ... anyone from Alpha, or Zeta squad. He wasn't sure whether to be glad about that or not.
But it didn't really matter at this point, did it?
"Apparently, for pointing out that drawing straws to figure out who to kill was a bad idea," he grumbled, leaning back on the couch. "Fiver," he introduced himself then. "What happened to you?" I mean, obviously he was dead too, but ... how?
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Posted: Mon Apr 04, 2011 6:14 pm
"Hmm," Beta Five gave the other a nod, listening to him speak. "I wouldn't think that would be such a bad idea." A shrug. "Perhaps not the most orthodox idea, but hey, it might work."
Not that he could say much about his own strategy (or lack thereof), considering it had been to do his own thing on his own time and deal with the consequences later.
Apparently his non-strategy had been a not-so-good one.
"I was b***h slapped," Beta Five drawled easily, amusement evident in his voice. "Nahhh, rather I was attacked on all sides by an opposing squad who decided it would be fun to gang up on the underdog." He held up his hands palm up, as if in a who knows? gesture. "But it's all in the past now, seeing as how I'm here."
A brow lifted. "Fiver, eh?" he repeated, clearly entertained. "I'm Beta Five. Feel free to call me whatever you want from those two names, I don't particularly mind."
Glancing around the room, he took in the bar again, elegant and classy. "Ya know, it'd be nice to have a drink," Five said, sliding a glance at Fiver. "But I'm not so sure it would be wise. You know, with this thing on my face, and all."
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Posted: Mon Apr 04, 2011 6:19 pm
Fiver made a soft snorting noise at that. "Thought it was a bad idea mainly cause people would probly cheat. Or gank each other when we were close enough to do the drawing," he muttered. But there was really no point in arguing over it now.
Eyeing the bar again, he tugged rather ineffectually at his own mask, trying to get it to come off. "What's the point of having a fully stocked bar if we can't DRINK any of it?" he complained - decided for the moment to treat this newcomer as a companion, if not a friend. They were both dead, after all. There was nothing to fight over anymore.
Tilting his head he picked up one of the bottles and swirled the liquid inside about a bit. "Wonder if I'll taste any if I poured it over my face ... ya think?"
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Posted: Mon Apr 04, 2011 6:38 pm
Beta Five gave a snort of agreement, shaking his head. "Ahh, well," he said lightly, getting to his feet and stretching his legs out, his arms held up above his head momentarily. "It's all water under the bridge now, I suppose. Not worth crying over. Though," Five amended, somewhat wistfully. "I do rather wish I could have managed to get one last shot at that E-8. He was making fun of me, after all. And he couldn't seem to make up his mind about what he wanted. Would have been nice to see that smile wiped from his face.
"Theoretically, of course," he added, making his way towards the bar. "Since I couldn't technically see his face."
The bar seemed fully stocked, which was unusual and frustrating all at once, considering that Five could not take off his mask and the tequila in the bottle sitting nearest to him was making eyes at him as if to say HA HA HA you can't drink meeee~!. Despite this, Five rounded the bar so that he was behind it. He reached out a gloved hand, running his fingers over the various bottles until he found one that looked good. He pulled it from the shelf, holding it up to the light and examining it, and then set it down on the counter, eyes flitting upwards to look over at Fiver.
"You could try," he answered, with some amusement as he let his shoulders rise and fall in a casual shrug. "You'll either wind up with a helluva drink, or a sticky mask. It's about a fifty fifty shot."
He popped the cork from his own bottle, tipping the amber liquid into a shot glass, which he then held up to Fiver.
"Shall we have a toast?" he asked cheerfully. "To dying. Or death. Or maybe to just screwing over those bastards who killed us."
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Posted: Mon Apr 04, 2011 7:00 pm
"Not like I can really feel if it's sticky or not," Fiver replied with a shrug, something of the grin on his face evident in his tone. After all, what else was there to do around here? Picking up a shot glass of his own, he quickly opened 'his' bottle and splashed some liquid into it. "Sounds good," he agreed then. "I agree with the last one. To screwing over the bastards that killed us!" Then he took a deep breath and proceeded to knock the shotglass back and pour alcohol all over his mask. Hopefully at least SOMETHING of the taste would get through.
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Posted: Mon Apr 04, 2011 7:14 pm
Beta Five grinned behind his mask. "True," he conceded, hearing the amusement in the other's voice. It would have been easier to talk had he been able to see the other's face; Beta wished he could have, but since there was no going back, he would settle for merely listening carefully to pick up any hints or clues as to how the other felt. It was an interesting sort of way of communicating, but not particularly difficult, if he listened close enough.
Five held up his glass. "To screwing over the bastards that killed us!" he repeated, grinning. Oh, he really did do it, he thought to himself, letting out a small laugh as Fiver dumped the glass of bourbon over his mask. Beta Five did not reciprocate the move, but instead just raised his glass and tilted it towards the other man before he set it back down on the counter.
Resting his forearms on the top of the glossy bar, Five linked his fingers together. Though this was a rather nice place - the bar was nice (very nice) - he couldn't help but wonder.
And wonder. And wonder some more.
"You know," Five drawled, resting his chin in the palm of one hand. "I'm dead. I'm dead. I didn't even get to find anything out beforehand. And I find I'm really quite annoyed by this."
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Posted: Mon Apr 04, 2011 7:24 pm
Yea, he couldn't really taste it. ******** BUMMER, man. But he could definitely smell the stuff, actually coughing a little at the strength of it filtered through the mask. Setting his glass down, he made a face and pushed the bourbon away a bit - having decided that was a bad idea for the moment. Maybe later, if things got REALLY boring, he'd try again. Leaning on the opposite side of the bar from Death Buddy (as he'd quite impulsively dubbed the other), Fiver sighed at that comment. "Yea, no s**t. Some ******** huge Death Pony attacked our uh. Group. And it wanted a sacrifice. I was about to attack the a*****e in the party and then some chick just starts WAILING on me. And a bunch of other people jumped in and ..." he trailed off, REALLY wishing now that he could have that drink.
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Posted: Mon Apr 04, 2011 7:47 pm
Beta Five eyed Fiver somewhat curiously. "No taste?" he asked him sympathetically, and sighed, reaching out a finger to tap the glass of bourbon beside him.
"You too, eh?" Five said, swishing the amber colored liquid around. "We got attacked by some enormous pony thing too. It was kinda surreal, you know?" He paused. Snorted again. "Scratch that, this whole thing is surreal. The whole 'hey we've been recruited to do heaven knows what, let's get attacked by a talking horse with a shiny pendant thing oh by the way you're dead and the afterlife is a lounge."
"A very nice lounge, however," Five conceded, glancing around at the stainless steel and glass fixtures. "But a lounge nonetheless. Somehow i expected something more...impressive. But hey, not complaining too much. It's nicer than I thought it would be." He cracked a smile, though he knew the other couldn't see it. "Less fire."
With a sigh, Beta Five pushed away from the counter, folding his arms across his chest as he walked around the bar, absently glancing over the rows of bottles stacked neatly there. He couldn't help the nagging feeling that something was missing. Answers, yes, hell yes, he wanted answers, but something else. It was a little unnerving, but Five pushed it aside, waving a hand noncommittally. "Sounds similar to my own story," he said ruefully. "Except I was just standing around, minding my own business (mostly my own business; I admit to shooting at someone) when I was bombarded by the opposite squad." Beta Five gave a shrug, smiling. "Apparently they all had it in for me, though all I did was miss the first time and tell one guy that he was contradicting himself. Which, I might add, he was."
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Posted: Mon Apr 04, 2011 8:06 pm
"Nope, just the smell..." Fiver replied with another little cough to attempt to get rid of said smell. The scent was all fine and good when it only lasted a few seconds until the shot was gone ... but lingering on for minutes afterward? Ech, no thanks. "It's still pretty shitty," he muttered then, jerking his head at the useless bar. That, and not knowing what was going on with the others, or why they were even HERE was enough of a hell for him. He didn't want or need any other tormenting factors. Wait wait, the other groups got Death Ponies too? "Is there like... a ******** herd of those things running around on that island or something? What IS that place? Damn."
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Posted: Mon Apr 04, 2011 8:20 pm
Beta Five lifted a masked eyebrow. "I'm sure that smell is quite, ah...intense at the moment," he said, attempting to keep the humor from his voice, but probably failing miserably. The bourbon was a strong drink, and he could smell it even from where he stood, and through his gas mask (he could only imagine what it smelled like from Fiver's point of view...).
Hopping up to sit on the bar, Beta Five tilted his head back, taking in his surroundings. "It's certainly not what I had expected," he murmured, tapping his fingers on the counter. "Shitty circumstances brought us here, though this isn't particularly shitty digs, persay. They're kinda nice, but the fact that we're dead makes it somewhat less appealing, I must say."
He glanced towards Fiver again. "Apparently so," he said, brows drawing together as he tried to piece together the puzzle. Nothing came to mind, and nothing made sense anymore. Beta Five grunted. "If there is a whole herd running around, maybe it's a good thing we're dead."
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Posted: Mon Apr 04, 2011 9:54 pm
"Well this looks comfortable." Gamma 12 said stiffly, having seemed to appear out of thin air, a nice dent in the face of her mask. She looked about the room appraisingly, before looking to the other two people in the room, making a face behind her mask.
Well, there were a couple of them there. That was something. Last thing she'd remembered was she'd hit herself in the face with her nunchucks and then passed out. So where was she and who had brought here there?
"Certainly more comfortable than the home-bases." she continued, walking over to one of the couches to lounge and sighing, having missed most of the earlier conversation due to her sudden appearance into a place she would soon enough learn was the land of the dead.
The lounge of the dead.
Whatever.
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Posted: Mon Apr 04, 2011 10:18 pm
"Oh, look," said Beta Five lightly, lifting a brow. "It seems we have another visitor, Fiver."
This one, however, was female. At least, that's what he thought, mostly because the voice that came from behind the mask seemed higher and less gruff than a male voice would be, and she walked very femininely.
....either that, or it was just a very secure male. Five was opting for the first one. He raised his glass of bourbon, spreading his arms to the side in a wide gesture of greeting.
"Welcome to Five and Fiver's Grill and Bar, home of the Mask Bourbon Cocktail," Beta Five intoned. "I am Five, and this is Fiver, and we're pretty much booked solid at the moment" - a glance at the totally empty room - "but I'm pretty sure we can fit you in somewhere."
Done with his outlandish introduction, Beta Five lowered his glass a bit, tilting it towards the newcomer. She couldn't see his smile, obviously, but maybe she would hear it enough in his voice to know that he was, in fact, being rather ridiculous at the current moment.
As if it weren't obvious enough.
"What brings you here to our humble abode today?" he asked her, and then gestured grandly to the bottles on the wall. "Shall I pour our guest a drink this evening? Afternoon? Morning? Whenever it is?" A pause. "Wherever it is?" Another pause. "Whatever it is?"
Now he was just being purposefully odd, but it was better than sitting around sulking about being dead.
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