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Downtime Log - 04
Log 04 - Downtime
Outcome to The Mine Car
And so, Minecraftia is saved! Overall, characters opted to focus on closing the mines. Passengers will receive a summary of their results on their phone (though there's still no sender), and will see it play out around them.
- With the deep mines closed off, the fungus responsible for the plague will no longer escape to the surface. Thanks to your thorough efforts, the dynamite has exposed new silver ore and treasure that the townsfolk can live off of, and the ancient mole civilization has also been laid to rest. They pass along this message:
- Totally radalicious for ya to do us a solid like that bros. You wouldn't believe how bad those acid spores were harshin' my buzz. See ya on the flip side. Cowabunga, dudes!
- Mayor Chadsef has been slain. The people of Minecraftia are grateful that his devious plots have been revealed, but are unsettled by some of your behavior. They are left without much leadership.
- Continue to fulfill objectives. Do not dwell on completed cars.
Though passengers can stay in Minecraftia for a while, the exit door is now open! Because presumably some of them killed and ate Chadsef, the denizens will eventually chase them out for being weirdos.
Numbers: All numbers will change as a result of this log. Overall, those who focused on the mines will see their numbers go down, and vice versa. However, this is character-driven: a character that went to the mines solely to loot for treasure may still see their number go up, and likewise, those that attacked Chadsef may still see their numbers go down if it coincides with character growth.
Illness: Those who fell ill will have lingering effects, but the plague will clear without exposure to the spores. Symptoms can fade as quickly or slowly as players wish.
Then, as characters exit Minecraftia, they will receive another new message.
FROM: clownductor one
Well, that was unexpected.
Regular train cars will now resume. Please note that to end your journey aboard the Existential Express, the numbers located on your body must go down to zero. Indulging in your bad habits will cause your number to increase indefinitely and infinitely. Do not think of it as a prison sentence, but...
...A journey along the railroad of self improvement.
And from here on out, we're back to our regularly scheduled downtime log! Good work, everyone!
The Dinosaur Car
As characters enter the car, their phones will notify them of a new objective…
That's not really an actionable objective, but you probably don't have much time to worry about it because in this car… there are dinosaurs! They seem to be engulfed in a vicious turf war between bickering herbivores and carnivores, and in the middle of the fighting is a flock of baby dinosaurs separated from their parents. :( Their size easily dwarfs the passengers, but compared to the adults, they're small and helpless and could use someone to take them back to their dens.
Unfortunately, not all the babies are cooperative. Some have no sense of danger, and others have too much sense of danger. While others won't stop crying, and some have decided that you're their new mother! Navigating them through the bickering adults won't be an easy task.
All carnivores except velociraptors have poor senses, so they'll only see you if you move. The herbivores will largely leave you alone... because they won't notice your presence at all, and will stomp on you with no reservations. Both sides will react poorly to violence against their own, so be prepared to run or fight if you're the hack-and-slash type. That said, these oversized reptiles are no pea-brains, and may actually be open to diplomacy…
The Crystal Car
As the characters enter the car, their phones will notify them of a new objective…
The inside of this car is peaceful and #aesthetic — everything is made of varying types of crystal, geodes, etc, and the pink sunlight glitters across every surface. What does this have to do with the objective? Nothing! Not everything in life has a meaning, you know?
However, there is one particularly shiny crystal not far from the door here, with a few fairly obvious hand-shaped indents. When touched, the crystal will shimmer and shine to an emotional song. But not just any song — it has to have sentimental value to the singer. That's right, you can't just pick the classiest tune of your Sp*tify to pretend you have good taste to your friends. This is about a mother's lullaby, or the horrible mix tape your first boyfriend made you, or the randumb song you made up with your friends as a kid. Once the crystal is satisfied with your performance, the exit door will open.
The Otome Car
As the characters enter the car, their phones will notify them of a new objective…
The assorted NPCs of this neo-noir world are occupied with solving grisly murders. Passengers will find themselves in roles such as jaded private investigator, lackadaisical forensics tech, vigilante hacker, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed dame, etc... but more importantly, above every character's head is what looks like a progress bar.
When someone encounters another passenger, the bar will fill up according to how much they trust and/or like them. (Yes, this will out anyone who's been sneaky or dishonest about their feelings.) In order to fill this 'trust gauge' to max, characters must pick the right dialogue options with each other (i.e. not piss each other off, flatter one another, etc. You may also interpret this as literal otome dialogue prompts, if you like), or otherwise convince all the NPCs that they care for each other. Maybe it's by holding hands, or fake dating, or pretending Wheatley is your beloved son orb (sorb).
Once both bars are completely full, characters will abruptly discover the murderer was the cop all along. They'll receive a bag of Sn*ckers for their detective work. Good end! If characters do poorly at this get-along task, they may get various Bad Ends, which will usually result in them nearly dying (or actually dying) before starting over from a previous checkpoint. Successive bad ends will turn more and more ridiculous over time.
The GBBO Car
As the characters enter the car, their phones will notify them of a new objective…
Upon entering the car, passengers will find themselves in a large tent. The tent contains rows of baking stations, equipped with ovens and a variety of kitchen equipment. Along the sides of the tents are fridges and freezers, and at the back of the tent is a pantry which will manifest any ingredient a passenger can think of. As passengers bake however, they'll find that they need to work together as access to the gadgets and ingredients is split between individuals. Whether it's the oven refusing to start, or eggs consistently slipping from their grasp, passengers will need to rely on a partner regardless of skill level. Characters that try to work on their own will consistently end up with a terrible tray of brownies, no matter what they're trying to bake.
Passengers will have 3 hours to create the dish listed on their station before being subjected to the scrutiny of celebrity judges: Haul Pollywood and Bary Merry. Ready... set... bake!
The Hand Holding Car
As the characters enter the car, their phones will notify them of a new objective…
Upon entering this car, passengers will find themselves in total darkness. There is nothing around them except, visible by the light of their phones, a single torch. They'll find that they can't light it using magic or matches, and that it only blazes bright when they hold the hand of another passenger. As soon as that contact is lost, the torch will go out.
There is no path or indicators as they trek forward—nothing but the black nothingness, their fellow passenger and the torch. But eventually, whispers. A cold sensation crawling up their spine, and the sudden, unshakeable fear of the person whose hand they're holding. A voice will warn them of the evil hidden in their partner's heart, the weapons they carry, and describe to them in vivid detail all the ways they could end their life, or worse. There's nothing more terrifying to you than this person, but if you let go, then there's only darkness.
One final catch: this connection goes beyond fear. Characters will find themselves able to read each other's thoughts while holding hands.
The Vacation Car
As the characters enter the car, their phones will notify them of a new objective…
The vast interior of this car is filled with a white, sandy beach. Clear water stretches as far as the eye can see, and the shoreline is dotted with everything you'd find at a popular boardwalk: food stands, cool drinks, tacky swimsuit huts, a brightly lit ferris wheel. Vendors don't accept money, but will gladly share their goods in exchange for good deeds. The beach is open to all, and sports all manner of coral and sea creatures.
(This may include flying sharks and giant octopi.)
And to top it all off, there's an enormous seaside spa! There are various different rooms, providing all kinds of treats to relax: bathing pools both hot and cool, luxurious showers, wet and dry saunas, lounging areas with refreshing drinks and snacks, and even several outdoor hot springs! Above them is always a clear night sky, with auroras dancing against the darkness if you get lucky. How does this all work in the same climate? Don't worry about it.
The spa is largely autonomous: bathing products automatically replenish themselves, food and drink appears and cleans itself up on its own, and there are somehow always warm towels and fluffy robes. This also means that no one is actually running some of the stations — namely the manipedi and massage rooms — so you may have to lend a helping hand or two.
OOC Notes
Car Order: While the cars are linear and in the order shown, characters can freely move between these six cars for the next three weeks — players may assume 1:1 IC:OOC time ratio.
Locks: Passengers may follow other characters out of cars after they've been unlocked — so in general, players can assume optional cars on downtime months are unlocked if they don't want to play in them. Likewise, if your character ICly would not participate in a car but you still want to play with those prompts, you can assume they're locked in and must complete objectives. Feel free to pick and choose what you'd like to play from any downtime log!
Update: We will also have a small update in the coming weeks — the setting won't change, but there will be a few more (optional!) aspects to play with later.
Feel free to direct questions to our Discord help channel. Have fun!
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no subject
Hehehe. "2AM Bangs." You do realize why that's funny, right?
'Cause, yeah. I could see how all of that would interfere with the whole bodyguard situation.
I mean, have you ever had to do this kinda thing before? You've gotta be up at the crack of dawn, which, uuuuum, first of all, barf? And then you're stuck to the priority for hours. Even if nothing's happening! It's the worst.
[Fortunately for Dmitri, his royal hiney (i m-mean highness) is spared the other grisly details of that encounter. Rex had been particularly pissy about the fact that he'd been tasked to protect some ugly, old businessman instead of a beautiful princess closer to his own age, but that's neither here nor there. The hotheaded super whistles while Dmitri's meter drops. If this was the kind of video game that Rex is familiar with, the bar would be showing HP points. A health meter, so to speak, so that is what he believes it to be right now.]
As for why someone would wanna kill me back home, there's loadsa reasons. I do happen to be a Guardian of the Globe, and since whoever the fuck murdered the old ones in cold blood-
[Not "whoever the fuck." Omni-Man. One of the world's former protecctors.
Rex knows that now.]
That's probably at the top of this list, but here? I dunno. I've gotta think about it.
[He does not. He's a forensic investigator, and all evidence points that the murder of Monsieur Hotcheeks (not his real name, even if the initials are the same) or Daddy Dickless was murdered by his rich ex-wife.]
Couldja give me a minute? Y'know! To think it all over.
no subject
However, it sounds that Rex is much more experienced with being guarded than the other way around. The situation is flipped on its head some—Dimitri is used to being cloistered, whether it's by an overprotective vassal or an army. It's nice to be on this side of an arrangement, but it's also a responsibility he needs to take seriously. Even if Rex doesn't, even if it's all mostly make-believe. Never do anything by halves.
He cants his head, raises his brow. ]
It sounds as being a 'guardian of the globe' earns you a fair share of enemies. [ are you sure it's not because of your personality, rex ] Perhaps that translated into the storyline here, somehow? Or you've caught the attention of the true killer, here.
[ He can have a minute, sure. Dimitri will just help him get to wherever he's going, even if it's just like, a 7-11. ]
no subject
It's a dogfight to get to the top. You gotta earn your place, and all that jazz.
[Green, mischievous eyes meet Dmitri's cold blue ones, scared of nothing. He cracks one of his knuckles loudly, never breaking eye contact.
Awwwh! Mr. Noodle-Bangs is serious about this, that's so adorable. Rex's "health" (read: hoe) bar goes up.]
When it's your job to keep the planet safe, every crazy psycho loser who wants it gone wants you gone, too.
Hold up, I'm still, tch-
[The noise he makes with his mouth is harsh, mocking.]
Rackin' my brain over here, but uh, what about you? You jumped right into the line of fire without even givin' me so much as a name. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were just tryin' to chat me up because you thought I had a pretty face.
[In all fairness, that's not uncommon for him. Try being so popular with women that your best friend literally steals your DNA, likeness, and kid body to impress a girl... that feel when comic book plotlines are worse than the ones on wattpad]
So? What'd you like to go by? Since this shit's mostly pretend, you can pick whatever name you want! I don't care.
no subject
Rex tears and drops substantial little bits of his life into this conversation like paper, but leaves him little time to read much into it. So Dimitri bows his head briefly, a habit he struggles to break even if he's very far from his Kingdom. ]
My name is Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, and I'm afraid I have no interest in your face, Rex Sloan of Chicago.
[ Not in a mean-spirited 'you're ugly' way, but rather, 'i would sooner die on the battlefield than flirt with a human person' kind of thing. On that exact same vein, he eyes the status bar, but tries not to give it much consideration. ]
While the story here is fictitious, the threats on this train are not—if I am meant to protect you, then it is not a matter of pretend for me. Even if you have... [ crazy psycho losers ] enemies, we can all keep each other safe, here.
[ May as well make the most of things. ]
no subject
You may not be interested in my face, but boy, are you hellbent on doin' your duty. What, am I not delicate enough for you, Hoity-Toity? I wouldn't have pegged ya as the kind of guy who was into twinks!
[☠️☠️☠️, unfortunately that 💓 meter is still going way up rip]
I've got real big honkers and all, but they're not soft.
[If a regular human person were to try and punch him square in the chest, they'd be more likely to injure their own hand than do any damage to Rex himself. The scientists had made sure of that.]
Look, buddy. You don't gotta take this so seriously, gosh! The neighborhood I grew up in? Way worse! Don't worry. You think this city's crime rate is bad? Oof, yeah, you've never been on South Side.
[Right from the start, Rex is already beginning to note a few personal observations about Dmitri. The guy's weird as fuck, sure, but not in a bad way. Off the bat, he notes that the boy is naively righteous and dutiful, a little cold perhaps but incredibly polite, and delightfully sincere.
A true rarity. Like one of those pretty rocks you'd never ever think to find.]
There is one risky job I wanna finish before I turn in for the night, but, aaah. I can tell you're an amateur. You don't do this. Security! Surveillance.
[That much is obvious. He's already made at least 3 rookie mistakes.]
So what do you do? I'm not really sure what blah-blah-blah is. [it's BLADD... yeah... nvm] Is that a country? Or your last name! Sounds European. I feel like you're more of a Sven than a Vladmir, but hey, what do I know. [meaning he looks more swedish than russian 2 him but then again rex does feel that the european peeps all... start 2 blend together after a while 4 him]
no subject
...You are just saying words. [ Answered with some confusion, but at least his meter doesn't shoot down any more. It started out on the high end of neutral anyway—he likes people. Gives them plenty of room to disappoint him.
They walk along the dingy street, and nothing jumps out to bother them but a rat or two. ]
But you're right, I've little experience with this. [ Security, surveillance, and whatnot. He has the subterfuge of a bull in a china shop, and would Not actually make a good fit for this line of work. He'll admit that much in stride. Still, it's better that Rex have some backup if he's off to do something risky, even if Dimitri isn't actually the grizzled cop he's meant to play. So, then, what is he? ] What I do is... [ that gives him pause for just a half-second, a blip, words rolling on his tongue. in the end, he does not care for secrecy. ] It is not the name of my country, but my lineage. House Blaiddyd, of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. There, I serve as a prince, but here I am just a passenger.
[ A beat, and a small crook of a smile. ] And a fledgling guard, I suppose. Even if I am an amateur, I am all too familiar with danger. You've no need to worry.
no subject
[Rex lets out a groan at that, hissing when his jokes don't land. It is by some god-forsaken JRPG miracle that Dmitri doesn't understand a word... His mouth twists into a miserably exaggerated pout while the fair-haired teenager continues to talk. Blad-did. Holy House of FairGoose...]
Hold on! Wait just a goddamn minute here. You're a prince?
[The words are uttered with an air of incredulousness, but surprisingly, it is not because Rex doesn't believe him. This guy is way too straightforward to be lying, giving off the impression that what you see is what you get. If his royal status wasn't real, he wouldn't have waited to share it. In fact, he would have yelled it from the mountaintops.
What contributed to Rex's shock was Dmitri's humility. There was also a very clear, noble line he dropped just seconds prior- In his home, he is a prince. Here, he is just an ordinary person. Every single rich bitch Rex has ever met has been a total and complete asshole, corrupted by the power their wealth has given them. Anyone wielding that much authority is above the law, feeding the people who are supposed to keep most of the population "safe" with bribes and doing whatever the hell they want. Buying more cars and mansions as children starve and die in the street.
Rex was one of those children. He knows this all too well.]
Huh.
You're pretty nice. Y'know! For a war criminal.
[He may not have gone to highschool, but he's well aware of what European imperialism has done for people with his skin tone or darker. His entire childhood was tainted by it. With a casual air, he boops Dmitri's shoulder with his own.]
You too. Oh, fuck. I've probably gotta spell it out for ya, since you seem kinda dense...
What I mean to say is... I've got your back, too. Seriously. It's pretty much a miracle that I am not dead right now, soooo! I know what I'm doing. 'Least when it comes to beating the good ol' Grim Reaper to the motherfucking punch.
no subject
He's pinched out of his thoughts by the shoulder-check, blinking over at Rex with a nod. ]
—Mm, right. Then we should be able to handle whatever risky business you've planned for yourself.
[ And so he elects to ignore all the cursing for now, so they can focus on the task at hand. ]
What is it you intend to do?
no subject
When Dmitri asks what they're about to do, Rex lets out a gleeful, raucous little chuckle. For someone so young, his voice is raspy, like a grenade rattling around before the top's been popped off.]
I'm gonna break into some old dead guy's apartment.
[He says this with a giddy sort of joy. Rex has put his sketchy past behind him, sure, but oh man. There is nothing like an inside job well done.]
But, don't worry. Iiiiit's, like! For justice and all of that garbage.
[Elaboration is a thing he's planning on doing! Shortly after he thwaps Dmitri's moving health bar with his own finger. So he can touch it, but can't explode it. Weird.]
Also, you feelin' okay? I can't tell if you look sick or it's just, uh, that really pale blue-blooded skin of yours. Aaaaah, what was the name of that particular shade? Oh yeah! Deathly pallor.
no subject
Incredulously: ]
This is just what I look like...? [ Sometimes you're just likely to burn to a crisp if the sun shoots a glance your way. ] I fell ill during the last car, but I've nearly made a full recovery now.
[ He really didn't enjoy being sick and weak, so maybe he's pushing himself to prove that he is neither of those things anymore. But that's neither here nor there. The important thing is that ultimately, this does not distract Dimitri from giving a plainly disapproving look at this plan. ]
Also, this sounds highly suspect, Rex.
[ JUST BECAUSE THEY'RE DEAD....... he's not ditching him, but he gives him a look that plainly hopes that this is worthwhile. ]
no subject
Those spore-thingies were strong! My friend from home is, like, ridiculously overpowered and after just a few whiffs of that stuff, he was on his knees for days on days on days! I've only done shrooms a few times in my life? But it was never that bad for me, I'll say that much.
[Rex could not be downplaying the ordeal any more than he currently is. For as long as Mark had been sick, he barely got a wink of sleep, watching over the boy like a hawk the entire time. He'd literally carried the poor thing everywhere. Rex had been too frightened to close his eyes. If he had woken up beside Invincible's dead body, not only would he have lost his only reliable friend on this damn fantasy choo-choo, but the world's last and possibly only hope against Omni-Man would be dead.]
So, I'm the coroner right now, or... One of them. A case I'm workin' on is a little too clean for my tastes. Everything adds up, but like, suspiciously so? I wanna take a look at the guy's bank statements. See if we can hack into his old computer or find some monthly bills in the trash, that sort of thing.
I've got a funny feelin' that there's a suspect who's just not on the list.
no subject
It's just lucky that those that had gotten sick had others to look after them. ]
...Mm. It wouldn't surprise me if we're meant to find the answer to this mystery to achieve this, ah—good end. Following a victim's paper trail could lead us somewhere.
[ He'd probably start with their public records, but it sounds like Rex might be concerned those were doctored somehow. The next reasonable step would be the financials. Dimitri's done similar sleuthing in the past, though he never found satisfactory answers from it. ]
But technically you have the authority to check the scenes of these tragedies, don't you? Why would you need to sneak in at night like this?
no subject
They didn't give me a job description, like, all outright or anything? But I had to look at the body, which makes me either the coroner or a forensic pathologist. Not a cop or a detective, who'd have the ability to search the crime scene.
So, all I get to officially blink my peepers at? Is the corpse.
[He sighs, more frustrated than disgusted. Rex has seen a lot of dead bodies at this point, but a missing shlong? That's just rude!!! And terrifying. On a side note, if the guy was pathetically, um, "disappointing" in that regard at least the government will never know.]
The thing is, it's not like the whole team is all of us, so the only reliable members of the investigation are other peeps with numbers.
Aaaand that makes things so much harder than they need to be.
[At the mention of a good end-]
Also, what the flyin' fuck is this happy ending crap? This isn't a massage parlor in the backend of some shady alley! Ugh.
no subject
He honestly know jack about forensics or what all the little differentiations are—in reality, the police force seems to be dependent on a game of telephone, one department sending information to the next in one conjoined verdict. But right now, they don't have the right suspect. So something is missing, some link between the pieces, or the pieces themselves are wrong.
Rex seems more versed in a modern setting like this, and it's true that they're short-staffed. So while there is some... discomfort here at rifling through a dead man's belongings, as long as they're respectful about it—it should be fine? They have to get to the bottom of this somehow. ]
You raise a solid point—chances are that the mystery here is structured to require our participation, somehow... [ again he has no idea what rex is talking about when he's being gross, which is becoming a reoccuring blessing ] A 'happy' ending will likely be one where we hunt the killer down and prevent him from striking again.
[ Or so he presumes!! He straightens up, and even if he's meant to protect Rex, he's also going to zoom along now. Now they are Working. ]
All right then. We should be quick about it, in case someone is trying to hurt you.
i need to b awake in 2 and a half hours butt here i am
Happy endings, indeed.
Fear, however icy, has run through Rex's veins many times, more familiar a sensation than love or joy. It's cold fingers tease at the nape of his neck once more, and strangely, he touches that place himself just now, with bare hads that are usually gloved.]
Wouldn't that be somethin'? If every Tom, Dick, n' Hairy-ass could get a happy ending, just by pickin' door number 2 instead of 1 or 3. The only thing that's guaranteed is the ending part.
[Rex is hardly ever openly sentimental. He's struggled with that so much it cost him his last relationship and, if time follows the route its supposed to his, his next one as well. Any astute observations are coated in sarcasm, perfectly timed and biting humor, or simply yelled out at the top of his lungs.
The reason he feels comfortable being honest with Dmitri is that the other boy was kind to him first. Rex can count the individuals in his life who have treated him with the same regard on one hand. Samantha Eve Wilkins, Art Rosenbaum, Robot, Kate Cha... And a certain Cecil Steadman. Finally, the list has extended to two hands' worth.
Just barely.]
And that fucking suuuuuuuucks.
[Well, that was depressing. Or at least, that's what he would tell himself.]
Aaaah-m, I think it's over that-a-way?
[Rex gestures to his left.]
please..... sleep
...Finding happiness is a constant work in progress. But we can still hope for the best outcome here and now.
[ He gets the cynicism—he knows that it grows roots in hard lives and broken hopes, things that deserve understanding and not reprimand, things he expects this other boy is no stranger to from the coarseness of his words and thoughts—but he must believe that they might make a difference here. An ending where they've brought closure to a family, left the car a fraction better than before, prevented the needless loss of even one more life... it's attainable if they try.
So, that's what they'll do. Try. The apartment building they're looking for is indeed there right as they hang a left, and the room they want is on the first floor. Dimitri goes for the door, because he's not going to bust a window. ]
no subject
Dmitri, like the medieval simpleton he is, makes a beeline for the doorway. Rex has seen the people of yesteryear struggle with things as simple as text messaging, so there's no way that this guy is aware of things like security cameras.]
Whoa there, blondie! Have you started doin' poppers again? The party hasn't even started yet and we're definitely on the wrong floor! Oh my god, your pupils look huge, bruh-hemeth! Let me check on them for ya-
[All the aforementioned dialogue is yelled loudly so that the video footage will pick it up. Rex takes Dmitri by the shoulders, pulling them close enough to be face to face, noses almost touching. The remaining information is delivered while whispering, although somehow Rex's characteristic rasp and ever-present anxiety are still preserved as he continues.]
Hey! Prince Dumbdumb the third! [prince dumdum III] Are you crazy? There are security cameras everywhere in this building! You can't just barge in all willy-nilly! Then we'll be fucked for sure.
Listen. Most landlords are too cheap to pay for a bunch of cams, so there'll be a few blind spots. For legal reasons, the bathrooms are probably gonna be a no-go, so we're gonna start there. Okay?
Also, please don't slice my hands off for touching your royal, blue-blooded bod! I know that's probably a criminal offense in FairGoose, but I had to! You should also consider washing your hair. It's a little... Greasy.
[unfortunately they will b making a trip to the accursed men's restroom soon
for now rex will let go and gently dust those shoulders b4 patting them down gently... sorry dmitri he has a strong grip]
no subject
Also, they're in the bathroom now. It's pretty gross. Men are gross.
Exasperated: ]
Another comment on my hair, and you will have earned yourself a hit upside the head. Criminal offense or no.
[ It's not one, for the record. But he hasn't been so casually handled in a long time, a little stiff as he's pushed along; it takes some getting used to how physical some of the people on the train are. Still, it's almost preferable to always being kept at an arm's width, up on some untouchable pedestal. He doesn't mind letting Rex take lead on this either, since he clearly has a better idea of what's going on. ]
In any case, I will follow your lead. Can you do something about the cameras...?
[ At least they've had phones long enough to understand recording devices. ]
no subject
[Dmitri will happen upon Rex literally kicking the flushing handle of a urinal, because even though he is an animal, he is not this kind of animal. He washes his hands after remembering to flush, god damn it! Hygiene is important when most of your workdays end in rinsing the blood and entrails of slain enemies out of your hair.]
And, uh, noted. Sorry. In your defense, you've gotta be really good lookin' to pull that shit off, and you do! Plus, you're a fucking prince, for cryin' out loud. I'm sure girls are trippin' all over themselves to have your hand in marriage.
[And his inheritance, but um, Rex neglects to mention that. He is trying.
Like some sort of feral wildcat, Rex leaps from the floor to the countertop of the sink as if it's no trouble at all. He toggles with a loose panel of tile in the wall.]
Aaaand, yeah. The power lines should all be connected. If I just get in contact with so much as a fusebox, I'll be able to-
[After it is removed, it reveals a network of wires.]
Bingo.
[Rex rolls up the sleeve of his collared shirt, rotating the wrist of his right hand around in circles. The situation may not appear that dire, but for the literal ticking time bomb, this must be a delicate, precise job. If he uses too much force, too great a surface area, he could blow up the entire building and everyone unfortunate enough to be inside.
The skin of his index finger grows bright yellow at only the tip, and after he flicks the center of a wire, there is a burst of something, like a mini-explosion-]
Now we go! We haven't got much time.
[And all the lights go out, just like that. He does wash his hands b4 they nope out of here and dash back down to the apartment tho... u kno bc he prefers being clean]
no subject
Marriage prospects are the least of my concerns right now.
[ Very low on his priority list in general, and he's more concerned about what Rex is getting up to with these snaking wires. But he seems to have a handle on what he's doing, and in a moment the steady pop of electricity signals that they're ready to move on.
He follows along, though this time he's careful to see if anyone else is around. Looks quiet, even with their little disturbance. ]
—What is it you did just now? Some sort of magic?
[ It sounds more curious than accusatory. Whatever Rex was doing, it seemed very deliberate. ]
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When they arrive at the apartment, he hastily flicks that same index finger at the lock, bursting it in a similar manner. It's not until he and the young prince have entered the apartment that he speaks. The door locks behind them both.]
Nuh-uh.
[Rex steps to take a look through a peephole that allows him to peer into the hallway. Nothing.
How creepy. Something isn't right.]
Fighting witches and warlocks? It's the pits! Their powers make no goddamn sense! Anything I can do has a scientific explanation.
[Because he was not born super, but made.
Scouted. The perfect man for the job. Or, well, child.]
To dumb it down for ya, our abilities don't come from the same source.
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I see... Magic is a academic study in and of itself, but it should not surprise me that worlds work differently.
[ The fabric of their realities is different: things that seem impossible in one world are entirely plausible in the next. But he regards the conversation idly, because now they have New Matters to focus on.
The apartment is fairly small, with most of the dead man's belongings stashed in a bookcase and shelves near his desk. There's a laptop there still, and a mug of what is now very cold coffee spilled beside it.
The makings of a normal scene, besides the obvious, taped outline of a body, and old blood splattered across the chair and floor. A bloody handprint on the wall, smeared all the way down to the ground. A mess of papers littered about. Any valuables are gone, and the investigation likely ruled it a simple home robbery gone wrong. The air is at once stale and unpleasantly thick. Even if Dimitri has seen death before in volume, that doesn't make it any more pleasant; he clenches his fists briefly before he takes a look around. ]
Killed within his own home... [ How terrible. ]
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Rex has gotten familiar with the corpse, even thrown out a few theories as to why or how the victim may have died. But when he looks about the room, he seethes with anger, which remains steeled behind gritted teeth. The outline of the body isn't even in the right place. This is so much messier of a scene than he had been given, which means he'll have to rework his case entirely.
It's a fake mystery, sure, but it stings. After all this time, he finally thought he was on the right track.]
This place looks nothing like the report!
Which means somebody forged it. And that somebody's gonna get hurt real bad.
[Rex angrily slumps down at the computer, opening up the folded paper with the address to reveal lines of code scribbled on the inside. All potential passwords, each being entered in until he finally enters the right one. When the screen loads at long last, the background image is a picture of the deceased holding a small child in an idyllic field of green.]
...Somebody already did.
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So the police report was either sloppy, apathetic, or worse—fake. His jaw sets as he spots the screen when Rex unlocks it, looking at it for a moment too long before he goes to rummage through the bookshelf for any records. ]
Mm.
[ The denizens of these cars are all a little unbelievable and absurd, but they're still real. They have lives to lose, and they suffer and bleed the same as any of them. Even if it weren't the objective, he'd want to find whoever was behind this grisly crime—anyone who takes a life should be prepared to lose theirs.
But bringing the culprit to justice requires finding them first. He pulls a ledger off the shelf, wedged tight between two larger texts. Some sort of financial record. ]
We need to figure this out, for the victim's sake if not our own. It sounds like other murders may have been connected to this one as well.
nsfw im sorry nu (1/?)
Rex is about to perk up and make a comment about those financial records, and how it's strange that the guy is doing them in print. However, he happens upon an suspiciously unlabeled folder on the victim's computer. The newly-minted Guardian's espionage training has afforded him a more than merely a few basic skills on accessing private information, sure, but what he is not prepared for is the onslaught of very nude, very personal photos that begin popping up onscreen at the speed of... Not light? Quickly. It do be quick, though.]
AAH!
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