Logs:The Walking Dead

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The Walking Dead
Dramatis Personae

Akihiro, Budi

In Absentia

Tian-shin

2024-09-12


“First time?”

Location

<MOJ> Times... Square? - Mojoverse


This place is definitely big, and definitely surrounded by Tall Things, and there are definitely large screens all around it (they've all got various images of Mojo flashing on them), and it is also crowded with an odd mix of aliens pretending to be humans pretending to be tourists. It would all be a little overwhelming and a little bit insane if you'd never been to actual Times Square but if you have then maybe they've got some of the vibe almost kind of right, honestly. This is sort of the central hub of what passes for downtown in the Games District, cluttered with a potpourri of stores selling "I ♥️ I ♥️ NY" or "I ♥️ 🌏" merchandise and overpriced junk food from a dazzling array of alien cuisines. Given all the aliens cosplaying games contestant it's oddly a pretty decent place to get lost in the noise for a bit.

Who is supposed to be manning this umbrella-capped food cart? It's a good bet that nothing good has happened to them. In their absence the array of meats of indeterminate alien origin sitting on the hot dog roller have sort of fallen apart, coating the grill with an oily green substance that spits sparks perilously high at the cheerful yellow umbrella or at the nearby T-shirt stand. It smells strongly of burnt rubber, though the robots manning booths around it do not seem bothered by -- or even aware of -- this. They also don't seem bothered by the chance of imminent fire.

Never fear! A new Totally A Human vendor has shown up, though he seems sort of at a loss for what to do with this thing -- he tries half-heartedly to scrape the green stuff off the grill with a pair of tongs, and then just starts going through the stand, squats next to it to dig through the alien mystery meat -- enormous roach-looking things still in their shells, sausage links, purple-marbled steaks -- in storage in the strangely spacious refrigerated compartment under the grill. He's small and brown-skinned and hairy, not very convincingly human in a too-big I ❤️ I ❤️ NY shirt and, beneath it, a lungi clearly made out of another much larger I ❤️ I ❤️ NY shirt.

As Budi is piling mystery meat into yet another I ❤️ I ❤️ NY shirt, knotted at the bottom into a kinda-sorta bag, he knocks the cart juuuust enough that the still-spraying sparks skitter into a rack of T-shirts on display with a faint smell of burning... also rubber? Surely not. Budi straightens up just moments before anything actually catches fire, clutching his t-shirt-bag of stolen goods -- he blinks once, then twice, at the conflagration, then seems to decide now is as good as any to walk in any other direction, and turns to go.

Akihiro pushes up from the light(telephone?) pole he was leaning against and follows behind Budi, the wooden soles of his geta clacking against the pavement. He’s pulled his hair into a tight bun and dressed in the Hawaiian shirt he was snatched in left unbuttoned over a tank top and a pair of jeans. He’s ignoring any glances his way and cuts through the crowd, falling in step next with the other man. “Are you sure all of that is… edible?” he asks innocently enough, a friendly smile on his face.

Budi peeks sideways, then up-up-up with widened eyes, then drops his gaze down to Akihiro's hands (maybe he expects there to be knives there.) "Ehh," he says, like this hasn't really occurred to him; he opens the bag to peer down into it, then closes it hastily as a segmented leg immediately pops out of place. "Just meat, right?" he says. "I will find out." He glances over his shoulder and then makes a quick right at a different food stand. "Or I can trade it," he continues, cheerfully. "You want?" He waggles the bag invitingly.

“I haven’t gotten that desperate just yet, but when I do I know who to look out for.” Akihiro only just wrinkles his nose in distaste. “They smell like war. Charred meat and burning rubber.” He shakes away whatever memory the scent dragged up and instead focuses intently on Budi himself. “You didn’t come with us, and you don’t smell like them. What’s your deal?” There’s a faint hardening around his eyes, but the rest of the easygoing facade does not crack yet.

"War what?" Budi glances down at Akihiro's shoes, then tilts his head back up at his face, squinting now against the bright sky. Then back straight ahead. "You can smell me?" he says. "You are not the first humans here. Well --" Akihiro probably can't see his smile, tilted down at the ground, but there's a hearty amusement in his voice now. "Not many of us is humans, no? I was in the first Weirdos."

“Can smell lots of things. Too many things.” Akihiro sighs and straightens up. “That doesn’t surprise me. Pisses me off they didn’t learn more about food, but it doesn’t surprise me.” The expression on his face does look more genuine now, apparently pleased with the response. “If you’re here then you didn’t die horribly, so that’s good. Unless they can bring us back. They can’t do that, right?”

"Well we are not here since very long," says Budi, a little woefully. "They never noticed to give us a toilet either." His walk has gotten a tiny bit jauntier, though, when he peeks back up at the other man's pleased face. "They can't bring you back, no. I brang myself back. It was terrible death. Very bloody. Everyone screamed and cried..." he sighs as he trails off, though the tone of his voice had started to sound vaguely proud of himself as he went on. "But. Everyone else with me who died, they just die."

Akihiro stops for just a few steps before speeding back up to match Budi’s pace once more. “First time?” His face drops to something more sympathetic for a moment, “First time you should’ve died always sticks. It gets easier after a while though.”

"First time was at home. Also a terrible death. I cheated a pirate." He sounds much more ruefully proud of this one, but then Budi is tilting his head back at Akihiro with a sudden sharp look, large ears perking uneasily. "How many deaths have you had?"

“How many.” Akihiro does fully stop now, a faraway look on his face. Eventually though he does carry on, “Around thirty-three.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “Thirty-four. One of Xavier’s men boiled my blood. That was unpleasant, almost like somebody injected napalm into my veins.”

Budi stops too, politely, though his hands on the bag fidget a little restlessly as he waits. He falls back into step very easily, though now he is giving Akihiro a wary side-eye, head tilted to keep the other man's face sort of in view. "Oh," he says. "I have never boiled my blood. It does sound unpleasant. What --" he's speaking hesitantly, but curious all the same, "what did you do?"

“It’s a little blurry, but I’m pretty sure I got so angry about it that I tried to rip her throat out. With my teeth.” Akihiro gives his (admittedly sharp) teeth a little clack for emphasis. “Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.”

Budi clacks his own (also sharp) teeth back -- "I forget every time I die too," he says thoughtfully -- his gait, already a little clumsy, is starting to lag with the effort of keeping up with Akihiro's pace. "Like how you don't remember when you fell asleep. I remember waking up. I meant though -- what she boiled your blood for. You pissed her off?"

“We wanted to kill a few rich bigots, they wanted to save them. Apparently they really enjoyed the show we put on, because we’re here now.” Akihiro just sort of shrugs at this. “Long as I don’t get too much brain damage I tend to remember. I don’t know how it works for you but I heal very fast.”

"Tch," Budi sounds sort of disapproving, "No reason to boil someone in blood. I thought maybe you killed her mother or sleeped with her sister or something like that --" he veers somewhat daintily around a large group of "Times" "Square" tourists having either a brawl, an orgy, or some sort of organized sporting event. "I heal fast too," he decides. "Just look weirder." when he flashes a grin up at Akihiro it's split unsettlingly wide and sharp-toothed across his small face. Then -- "And no hand knives," he sighs.

“It might not look right, but it feels right.” Akihiro’s eyes linger on the group for just a second too long before his attention snaps back to Buldi. “When we get out of here I think we might have a spot for you. You like motorcycles?”

"I don't know it feels right neither," this is as close to disgruntled as Budi gets as he tugs somewhat self-consciously at one ear, his tone still managing to be at least somewhat cheery. "Never had no motorcycle. On Earth I am -- poor. Nothing and no-one."

“Never nothing. You could be something great Brother.” Akihiro offers a broad smile. “You know where to find us. Stay close though, we won’t be here too much longer.” He wiggles his fingers and turns to step into the crowd, his voice comes back faintly, repeating the promise, “Something great.”