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 Posted: Tue Oct 22, 2013 8:04 pm
It had all boiled down to one, simple decision. It was easier to go from there, and he felt more invigorated than he had in months. The conclusion had been easy to stumble upon, but he was unsure of what the actuality was like.
Transferring into Death was likely not going to be some simple feat, but an act of concentrated effort. He would need to prove himself to Caelius.
Quote: To: Mark From: Konstantin You are knowledgeable, yes? Am wanting to transfer. To Death. Advice appreciated. Free to meet, talk? Am not with much money, can pay in menial tasks.
There. Text sent. Hopefully, that would be enough to garner Mark's attention.
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Posted: Tue Oct 22, 2013 8:30 pm
Kostya got a quick reply:Text from Mark Dude, I don't just accept anyone as my Padawan. If you want to learn my ways, you must take the INTENSIVE JEDI TRAINING COURSE.... be PREPARED... in my office....!!!!
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Posted: Tue Oct 22, 2013 9:50 pm
It was fortunate that Konstantin was equipped with an awareness of the history of nerd culture, as he was in tune enough to gleam the Star Wars reference. Not that it was a subtle one, not by far, but it was a beacon of clarity to him amongst...absolute gibberish.
It took him thirty minutes to find someone who would seriously answer his question ("Vhere is Mark's office?" might as well have been in Greek), and another thirty to find someone who actually knew.
As it turned out, Mark was in some dark, dank corner, surrounded by a great number of electronics. He looked much like some sort of dirty vagabond, but the pale blue glow of a computer screen most likely did not do him any favours. Kostya idly wondered if he would notice a bar of soap being left on top of a pile of computer cases.
Standing several feet away, within his line of site should Mark break concentration and look up, Kostya waited. And waited. And waited.
And then cleared his throat.
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Posted: Thu Oct 24, 2013 4:17 pm
Still clicking madly, Mark waved with his free hand, staring intently at the screen. "Pizza on the counter, keep the change."
There was a twenty dollar bill on the counter, along with a slew of porn magazines (Busty Asian Beauties, October Halloween Frightfest Special), beer bottles, soap, and something that looked like a lovechild between a runic tablet and a cell phone.
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Posted: Thu Oct 24, 2013 10:19 pm
"Am not having pizza," he said, very confused. "Texted you. Am vanting to transfer, into division. To Death."
Perhaps this was a lost cause-- he caught sight of the salacious magazines and abruptly turned away from them, his lips pursed.
"Vas hoping-- vanting advice."
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Posted: Thu Oct 24, 2013 11:49 pm
Mark stopped clicking long enough to set up an automated loop on his custom OS to do pretty much the same thing. He stared at Kostya with absolute confusion. "Is this Star Trek night cuz I thought we moved that to Friday. Loving the accent though, you sound like that other dude." Yes, the other dude, Mark's temporary roommate.
"Okay, okay, I'll play along." Turning around, the Death Assistant suddenly straightened and said in a very loud and obviously fake accent, "I TEACH YOU MANY ADVICE." He made hand gestures, "ME YOU FRIEND. VERY FRIEND, ONE HUNDRED DOLLA." At some point the accent had evolved into a terrible Chinese one as Mark rubbed his fingers together in the universal sign for cash. "You dollar me dollar, everyone happy."
A pause, and he amended, in all seriousness, with the universal Star Trek sign, "Live long and prosper."
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Posted: Tue Oct 29, 2013 9:10 pm
This was not at all going how he hoped. Not at all.
He had not been expecting the world, but it would have been nice if Mark had offered a little more than cash Konstantin currently did not have. He had no concept of having an 'emergency' fund. He had traded his funds away for dried goods, bottles of water, and batteries and technological adjustments to his devices.
It meant that he was broke.
"No, not Star Trek." He grit his teeth, ever so slightly, because he was not Chekov. He was more than just some TV character-- he wasn't even any good at physics. "Vhat other dude? Very confusing."
With his luck, though, the 'other dude' that everyone was referring to was Lucky. Which meant that he was being compared to a shitty little potato Polak. Konstantin suffered Mark's horrible accent, glaring at the floor, his irritation levels slowly simmering before turning into a full-blown boiling of his blood.
"Am not vith money," he said. "Cannot be paying you."
However, he thought, mind racing, that didn't mean he didn't have anything to offer.
"Vill prove it," Konstantin said, stepping closer to Mark, his mouth a slash of grim determination. "Give any task. Vill complete. Mission, errand, chore. Vill be proving own utility to Death division. Vill be proving vurth."
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Posted: Tue Oct 29, 2013 9:18 pm
Thankfully Mark had watched enough of Star Trek to catch on to what he thought was the most convincing (but a little overdone) fake accent ever. "Any task, huh," he rubbed his terribly uneven shave-slash-beard and then grinned a little too wide, "well my young padawan, I think you're probably a level one, and maybe by a long stretch level two. I don't think you're ready for the big stuff yet so-"
- And then paused as Kostya's request finally filtered into the Death assistant's beer-addled brain. "Whoah, whoah, whoah whoah whoah, whoah. You want to transfer into this division?" He lowered his voice to a low whisper, in all seriousness, "What's the blackmail?"
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Posted: Tue Oct 29, 2013 10:38 pm
"Correct. Any am able to do." Mark prattled about levels, and he was at least well versed enough in games to know that he'd been insulted. Almost gravely. Konstantin took a moment to assess how he felt about that fact, and after the logical conclusion that Mark was correct, he shrugged it off.
It was true.
He had seen very little of the field, and the extent of his experiences went so far as the Amazon base, and none of that had been combat.
Kostya was tired of not having experience. He was tired of seeing Mimsy grow-- and being so, so proud and pleased for her-- and having no agency himself. Thinking of the girl, her rainbow scarf fluttering in the bitter Russian winter, her nose red, her smile wide, and she had asked him.
She had asked him if he had wanted something more, and he'd said yes-- and thus far, he'd squandered it.
No more.
He would have Death, or he would perish.
"No blackmail," he replied, after some length of time. "Desire entry to division. Desire utility, of my own. Desire..." The blurred lines of morality would be smoothed out by instructions. He wouldn't have to worry about the right or the wrong of them, not if they were direct. He clearly couldn't direct his own moral compass. He was friends with a wonderful woman, who was more than likely a sociopath.
Konstantin didn't know what that made him, in the scheme of things.
"Is so hard to believe I vish this for improvement of self?"
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Posted: Tue Oct 29, 2013 11:39 pm
Mark shrugged. "Suit yourself, you're asking the wrong dude man. I'd totally write you a recommendation to join the Mist ladies," winky winky," but larger division transfers and stuff goes to you know who."
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Posted: Tue Oct 29, 2013 11:44 pm
"I see," Kostya said, his face growing pinched. "Ok. Thank you."
He heaved a deep, deep sigh, and turned to leave.
It was time to text the...division lead.
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Posted: Tue Oct 29, 2013 11:51 pm
"Wait, Russian guy, hang on!" Mark stood up. "Look I'm only doing this cuz you're funny and stuff okay, and I appreciate that. Just one favour. One."
The Death assistant made a big show of whipping out his cell phone and then proceeded to occupy the next ten seconds with the intense phone finger typing ever. He seemed proud of himself as he looked up. "Skills man, pure phone finger skills. Anyway, I got like, a date, just you and him. Scheduled it for tomorrow at noon, I figured that's enough of a distraction for me to take an extended break." Proud of himself he sat back down, celebrating by opening another can of beer. "Live long and prosper, my young suicidal comrade." astrabot All done and ready for part 2!
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