001 | Accidental Video

[whatsbackup]

[ The why and the how, Ronan would focus on later. He was breathing, his clothes at seven bullet holes clean through them with dried blood clinging to the edges, but he didn't and he was in a cave.

So, the initial examination had given him some pretty startling information: someone had retrieved his body from the morgue, found a way to what? Resurrect him? Then they'd shoved him in a coffin with a cell phone and how-to manual, and stored his new bed in a cave somewhere.

He fiddled with the settings on the phone per the instructions, and accidentally turned on the video transmission as he continued to think out loud. His attention to detail was usually more thorough, but give a guy a break. He was dead the last time he checked. ]

...didn't even have the decency to give a man a change of clothes.

[ He shook his head and looked around for something in the pod he'd just vacated for a moment before reaching in and pulling out a weathered fedora and placing it on his head. ]

At least they remembered th- [ His eyes dart toward the communicator he'd set down, noticing the blinking. ] What do you know? I did get it working.

[ He runs a hand over his face before he picks up the device, giving a slight, if-lopsided, smile. ]

I can only assume there's others out there, right? Why give a man a cell phone if there's nobody to receive it? [ He rubbed at his eyes with a free hand, then begins patting first the clear side of his chest, then the side with the bullet holes before reaching into a pocket with a hole in it and retrieving a box of ruined cigarettes. ] Really? Come on. [ He shakes his head and looks back to the feed. ]

My name's Ronan O'Connor. I'm a detective with the Salem Police Department...in...Salem, Massachusetts. Tell me that rings a bell with somebody.

[ And, more directly, as though something suddenly occurs to him. ]

Can any of you even see me?

Comments

[youfool]

Yes I can, and yes, that rings a bell. The same Salem that dabbled with witchcraft, right?

Fortunately there's no Salem here. And if you need a fresh change of clothes, you've only to ask. As far as I know, I'm the best dressed man in this entire world.

[whatsbackup]

That'd be the place, yeah. [ Ronan nods. ]

Fortunately? Salem's my hometown. [ And Ronan scrutinizes the video feed, for what it is before looking doubtful. ] Yeah, thanks, buddy, but yellow's not really my color. You wouldn't happen to know where a guy can pick up some smokes, would you?

[youfool]

"Smokes, smokes...". A few blips sound as Ted fiddles with his map function.

"Ah! There we are. On Thistle and 12th, south from you, you'll find Pan's Grocery. They'll sell it for a song, if their advertisements are credible. Oh, no offense to your hometown. I was thinking of the sinister Salem of yesteryear, but your getup suggests contemporaneity.

Just for fun—if you have time for fun—have you ever managed to solve a crime with a disappeared victim months after the event?

[whatsbackup]

[Ronan nods at the answer.] Thanks, pal. I owe ya one.

[And he starts in the direction he was given, his expression darkening somewhat as he walks.]

I...was working on it, actually.

[youfool]

"Certainly." He gets into a more comfortable position, ready to be enthralled by an exciting tale.

"Well, if you can walk and talk, I'd like to hear more."

[whatsbackup]

You know, us at the Salem PD aren't in the habit of discussing ongoing investigations with civilians.

[...was he even a cop anymore? He was dead, Salem was...wherever away from here.]

[youfool]

"I'm in law enforcement myself, believe it or not. Theodore Satchel, Guardian of Everglade...that doesn't really mean anything to you yet, does it?

Also, and I hate to be the bearer of bad news—or good news, depending on how tiresome the case was—, it's very unlikely that that case is going anywhere anytime soon. The cities of Earth are...very far away from here, despite the inhabitants with us."

[whatsbackup]

I don't care if it's going anywhere or not. If I don't...if we don't catch that guy, more girls are going to die. He's not going to stop until we stop him.

[He runs a hand over his face.]

Yeah, I got nothin' on that. Do you have papers or something? A badge?

[I have a badge...and I just realized it means absolutely nothing here. Damn it. I worked my ass off for that badge.]

[youfool]

Ted really needed to practice his "your past is irrelevant now" talk. They ought to make a greeting card for that.

"Yes, it's very handsome." He ruffles in his coat pocket before producing a humble piece of bronze with his name etched in. "Listen, you seem like a frank fellow, so I'll be frank in kind. This world, Genessia, has a tendency to render all our histories null and void. Not to disparage the role Salem had in making you, but you'll do better to put any particularities of your past on the back burner. Think of yourself as a reluctant refugee, and then try to rid the reluctance by degrees. You've only your present and, if you're the dreamy sort, your future to think of now."

[whatsbackup]

[Yeah, that shield didn't mean anything to Ronan at all. He gives it a passing glace before focusing back on Ted, shaking his head.]

No, buddy. It doesn't work that way. I already punched my ticket. I have to get home and...finish this or I don't get my white light, get it?

[youfool]

Goodness, it's amazing how integral nearly every newcomer is to their own world's well-being. Perhaps this place selected for heroes, or perhaps the merely self-important. But then again, if that's so, why was Ted here? Or every Saturday morning cartoon villain, for that matter?

"Is that an afterlife metaphor?" Ted's more of the "salvation through belief in Christ" kinda guy, though he definitely appreciates the charm in one last heroic deed meaning the difference between heaven and hell. "In essence, you must do one task no one here has yet managed--returning home--then another--which you won't divulge entirely--in order to breach the pearly gates. Quite the labors you've laid out.

Hypothetically speaking, is there anything I could say to reroute your ambitions? Or at least make the prospect more palatable?"

[whatsbackup]

[Hold please. Ronan is currently in the directed shop buying those lovely smokes.

And lighting one, then looking pleasantly surprised at the taste, before looking back at the video.]

Sure. Why don't we start out with you giving me some information, huh? Why are you so dead-set on me staying here? You don't know me. You don't know what I can do.

[youfool]

"Hah. Sorry, it's just strange how often people say things like that. 'You don't know me', 'we've barely met', and so on. As though people can't glean spiritual impressions in seconds. Suppose I just come from a more mystical time.

As for your stay, it's not something I'm too keen on, except whatever charities I can extend to make it more enjoyable. It really does sound like you've got some frustrated business. But believe me, there's nothing for it...well, almost nothing. Another one of ours, some fairy dragon, recently took a week-long vacation in something called the 'Dream Docks', apparently gaining an update on the current affairs of her world for the trouble. Changed her too; painted a nice white stripe on her belly. Even cured her of an ailment. As though it brought one up to date in accord with their particular universe.

Marvelous, and not at all explainable by my powers, but ultimately she must still remain here. She's been granted some peace of mind for her home, though her home seems not yet ready to re-receive her.

All of which is a very round-about way of saying: 'you're stuck with us, might as well make the best of it'. But please, don't misunderstand. If I'm cheery, it's for cheeriness' sake, not because I'm Genessia's lackey. I'm in the same boat, though I've been sailing for a year longer."

[whatsbackup]

[Ronan is quiet for a while, his gaze distant as he finishes his cigarette and lights another, his jaw working slightly as though he's trying to chew all this information, and if his expression is any indication, he thinks it all tastes like shit.

After a moment, he looks back to the phone, resigned for now at least.]

So, who made you a Guardian?

[youfool]

"The voting public, like a sheriff. The same kind of election will be in about two months, or so."

[whatsbackup]

[He nods.]

And what public is that? Us or them?

[youfool]

"Come again?" He can be a little absent-minded. "'Them'?"

[whatsbackup]

The natives, man. Them.

[youfool]

"Ah, I see what you mean. Well, to start, there's two kinds. The spirits, who are more or less the leaders, and...mm, those without necklaces. The latter don't vote or stray much from their routines. Their lack of suffrage doesn't seem to bother them too much, though they can be stubborn if the status quo goes challenged.

The former; the spirits, are inscrutable. They don't appear malicious and have in investment in the safety of the world, but beyond that...impossible to say. I think they communicate to us through the CPU; a kind of impersonal broadcast that belts out PSA's and whatnot. Said CPU also manages the elections, though the candidates and whomever votes for them are comprised entirely of us. That is to say, those with necklaces." Man, this is a lot to go through for every new person here. Someone should write a guidebook or something.

[whatsbackup]

So, this place is lead by a council of spirits that manage it, but don't take any direct role in anything we do here? Why? Has anyone ever talked to them?

[Be alive again, Ronan finds himself wondering if he could even see them. When he was a spirit himself, that was one thing.]

...are you running again? You said there's an election in a couple months.

[youfool]

"Yes, I believe so. As for what they do directly and indirectly, it's difficult to separate into water-tight compartments. A few people seem to have spoken to them, but that's something of a rarity. Perhaps those who have been around longer than I can regale you with other choice encounters, but those are the only ones I know. I've been around for about a year, if that interests you.

And yes, I am! Well, unless I get repeatedly assassinated or the city becomes so righteous that it floats like a balloon to be appended to the kingdom of heaven. Hopefully the former can be dodged."

[whatsbackup]

Who's she? The girl talking to one of the spirits? [He'd really like to talk to her if he can.]

...you're not looking for any deputies, are you? [Because I think I might be here for a while.]

[youfool]

"A lot of girls talked to them, judging by that post. At least 3. If you're talking about the OP, Yuna, I'm afraid she's vanished, likely for good." His expression went from a little glum to grin. "Yes, as it happens. Always will be, so long as there's no laws against it. Which, seeing as I'm the Guardian, won't be happening any time soon. Is that just natural, detective curiosity, or...?"

[whatsbackup]

Vanished for good? [That doesn't sound good.] That happens? I thought we were all trapped here. That's what you said.

[A pause.]

Something like that. It looks like I'm going to be here for a while.

[youfool]

"Did I say 'trapped'? Huh. Not like me to put a negative spin on it like that. But yes, people do occasionally 'leave', though whether they make it back home, or else have a stranger fate, is impossible to say. The ones who disappear on us tend to lose their will to live, in some form or another. Maybe they succumb to despair. Maybe they feel like they've done all they can here. Maybe they just get bored.

In any case, exiting through those doors is an unenviable way to go; it's better to live meaningfully. Heh, obviously." He cleared his throat.

"Mr. O'Connor, I must have you be very clear about this. Are you saying you wish to become my deputy? It's not something to be taken lightly." Ted takes it lightly all the time, but he's trying to to be official and grave.