dualisnet | TEXT: Day after the Festivities

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TEXT: Day after the Festivities

Username: dpdhank@dualislink

My name is Hank Anderson, I'm a patrol officer with Dualis's police. I think I met a few people at the Dualis Days festival, many of them during the unfortunate opening ceremonies.

The police are conducting an official investigation but I want to conduct my own independent investigation. In my experience that usually solves cases a little more quickly. [That's how he and Connor made it as far as they did, superseding what was technically required of them. The end result was also the better result for the world, not the preferred result for the powers that be, too.]

I know some of you were close to the bombing. If you're interested and able to give me some information I'll be in the kitchen on floor six for the rest of the evening.

[Anyone that comes to find him will be lucky. For the moment he'll be listening to some jazz he loaded onto a music player and speaker he found in a thrift shop rather than metal. But you better believe when it's necessary he'll switch to metal if he has to. In the meantime he's also reading an actual paper book, a softcover novel that he was lucky enough to find.]

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look if you just woke up from being dead and some robot tried to manhandle you im betting youd be violent too

i trust these machines about as far as i could dropkick one

[He won't say he agrees, because he doesn't want to fall back into his whole pit of anti-android racism that, while his was born of unfortunate experience, cost his partner some valuable development time.]

[But he really fuckin' agrees.]

You were dead before you came here?

[Wandered into the wrong party like some fuckin' Oingo Boingo bullshit.]

[quit complaining, brother! no one lives forever!!]

yeah i guess that would explain why i said i had a huge bloodstain huh

psycho doppelganger knifed me in the throat

gotta say i appreciate how efficient he was though

it was pretty quick

last guy who killed me dragged it out forever

[He's pretty sure every fucker that's knifed him- not many, have wished they'd gone for the throat.]

I haven't run across anyone that was dead before showing up.

[There's definitely some intake issues to work out. Back home, Jason could sue. He doubts that's the case, here.]

glad i could be your first

got any invasive personal questions about it for me

None, unless you want to talk about it. I'm pretty sure the best anyone can do legally with a throat-stabbing motherfucker off in your original universe is put a restraining order on him if he came through. Or, you know, maybe you could trick one of the robots into tranquing them. Seems to be pretty easy.

[He will absolutely sass about the stupid robots since they should be more discerning. And honestly that shit isn't going to get much help from people.]

So far most of the non-iteration officers at the department have been pretty on the level. In the case you decide that you would want to talk to an officer for whatever reason, unlikely as it sounds, I'd skip around the robots.

[does jason ever NOT want to talk about that time - well, times now - he died?]

wasnt my original universe

hate to break it to you but this isnt my first rodeo through the multiverse its the third

the guy in the last place was some kinda clone of one of the other villagers and if he ends up here youre gonna know about it pretty fast because hes really well trained

maybe some kind of professional assassin

but its cute that you think a restraining orders gonna do a damn thing

if i had a dollar for every time someone with a restraining order got killed anyway i wouldnt need to shake down crime families ever again

I actually agree. It's a shit set up even if he isn't a professional assassin if you don't have the right guys arranging it. It was a problem back home, too, but there weren't many crime families left in my Detroit. No really big ones.

[Just shitty corporations. Even though there's still a drug presence, it's not a very structured business. Hank's task force had been very good at what they did. There's a reason he stayed at the DPD for so long even after he started his downhill slide. His rep was solid.]

[Those shitty corporations though...]

Still, it is some other universe and I actually would just steer him right into those asshole robots if I were you. They'd probably be at least be an inconvenience.

[But now the real topic.]

Did some big head or dick or knee whatever bring you in for some higher purpose in that universe?

yeah thats usually how it goes

first time was wonderland

yes like the book

the queens were in charge there and best i could tell just wanted to use us as toys

second place was an unnamed village and the group responsible for us being there was called observers

never saw or talked to them but they sure liked to observe us dealing with the weird shit im guessing they were responsible for

[Okay. He will need proof Jason was not high for that first one. No one could blame him, and right now, he's choosing not to address it and it's going in his 'WTF why Gotham and also X-Men' folder.]

[So that stays there for now.]

So you're just used to being a guinea pig at this point.

This your first time going through a complete physical fix? Do you still have any previous scars? [Because Hank still has his.]

[ok, jason’s getting tired of typing all this out, and since hank’s now asking about scars, jason anticipates he’ll want to see proof. that’s what good cops do when investigating, right? and despite his earlier claim that all cops are bad, jason’s opinion of hank has risen since they’ve been messaging back and forth. hank sort of reminds jason of jim gordon, the only cop in gotham for whom jason’s held even a shred of begrudging respect. hank genuinely seems like he wants to help. maybe it’s worth talking to him a little more in-depth.

jason doesn’t answer the last message, just makes his way to the kitchen on the sixth floor a few minutes later. a slight scowl still rests in his expression, but that’s pretty normal for him.]

You’re really going all-out with this “invasive personal questions” thing, huh.

[that’s right, no introduction, just picking up right where the texts left off. jason finds a counter to lean against, arms folded over his chest, and gives hank a brief visual appraisal before answering his questions.]

Yeah, I still got scars, and no, this isn’t my first time coming back from being dead. First time happened when I was sixteen, in Bosnia. I got beat to a bloody pulp with a crowbar and blown up.

Edited 2019-06-28 20:42 (UTC)

[Hank honestly wasn't expecting the kid to show. He's just sitting here with his book and was just about to order a pizza, because that whiskey money now feels like it'd be better spent on pepperoni. He hesitates, though, mid-order as Jason comes in, looking up with a similarly scrutinizing look. No slit throat, for sure. He doesn't doubt that story. He just wonders how it could be fixed, and also what else that machine could do.]

That's about medium on the invasive questions I could ask. You want pizza?

[He looks back as he puts in a few ingredients.]

I've seen what kind of mess a crowbar and a bomb can make of someone. [The absolute joys of being both in narcotics and seeing both bad drug batches and example killings and being in homicide and generally seeing what a drunken sicko could pull. They stick in your head.] What brought you back from that? Couldn't be Bosnia's nice fresh air and peaceful countryside.

[What with a nation who has insults like 'I hope I see your house on CNN' and 'I hope you can have to go search for your children with a Geiger counter.']

[the offer of pizza is unexpected, but not unwelcome. this former homeless kid almost never says no to free food.]

Sure ... I guess I could eat.

[without a fight is definitely not how jason expected to be met. but with a fight is usually how he expects to be met. he takes a deep breath and makes an effort to sound less gruff.]

Wasn’t Bosnia that brought me back. Where I’m from, there’s something called a Lazarus Pit. It’s a literal pool of youth, owned by this international terrorist type, my former partner’s great nemesis. [here jason pauses to roll his eyes.] He’s been around for centuries - just takes a nice dip whenever he starts getting old and creaky, comes back out good as new. He got his hands on what was left of me, dropped me in the Lazarus Pit, and out I came. [he spreads his hands out in front himself, a silent ta-da.] Fixed a lot of me, but not everything.

[definitely not his mental state, nor the simmering rage that has lived inside of him for as long as he can remember. even a mystical pool has its limits.

jason hesitates for a moment, then settles on his decision to show hank solid proof. he steps closer and pulls the hem of his shirt up to show the scars scattered across the skin of his torso. some are clearly newer and much more visible, but underneath those are older scars, healed in an accelerated manner by the lazarus pit: faded remnants of flash burns, a gunshot, too many cuts to count, some stitched, some not.]

Some of this is stuff that happened after I came back, but the older stuff’s from before.

Former partner... So they've got this Moriarty Milosevic type that's hung up on 'em and they just did you a sort-of-favor in order to throw a debt or a complication in the works? Did it feel the same coming back in that situation as it feels coming back here?

You know, as far as head-fucking resurrections go. [Because he is aware that judging the similarities on brain-numbed resurrections is kind of hard to evaluate when you come back after some violent beaten to death or stabbed bullshit.]

[He arranges his half of the pizza.]

Low-level personal question. What do I call you and what do you want on your half of the pizza?

['What do I call you' rather than asking for a name. Sometimes he's had to adjust to that system of remembering people, especially in places like this and in situations where someone's already been pissed off over being arrested.]

Yeah ... [jason lowers his shirt and again folds his arms over his chest.] I mean, I didn’t stick around to ask, but I always figured he brought me back just to use me against the big guy. Who knows - maybe he was betting on me coming back a brain-dead zombie he could easily control.

[that sounds right up ra’s’ alley, from what jason knows of him. the question about comparing his resurrections makes jason go quiet as he mulls it over - not a topic he likes to dwell on, but at this point, he may as well give it his full effort. in for a penny, etc. he rubs a hand over his mouth - knuckles bandaged from where he’d split them punching the temple walls - then shrugs.]

Well, I didn’t wake up underwater this time, so that’s a slight improvement. And I guess it wasn’t as much of a surprise, since it happened before. But I didn’t expect to come back a second time. I was OK with the idea of being done, y’know? So it was still kinda unexpected.

[jason goes quiet, chews on his bottom lip. why is he telling all of this to a complete stranger - a cop, no less? maybe it’s just because hank’s listening - really listening, not angrily chastising him for the pain his death caused, like nida, not full of guilt, like cissie and tim. jason actually finds that he appreciates the detachment vibe he gets from hank.]

Jason. My name’s Jason. [he realizes a moment after that he’s missed a prime opening for a call me ishmael joke. oh well.] Is hamburger and onion an option?

[Hank knows sometimes there's not much time for guilt. And there is a pang of some empathy when he mentions that he just wanted to be done. Hank's been done for a long time. He's just too much of a cowardly shit to pull the trigger sober and without chance, and he's too prideful to just let some asshole kill him. But if it were to happen? He'll be happy to see his son again.]

[He'll be happy to see Cole on the other side.]

[Hank grunts softly at the comment, though, rather than saying too much. Maybe the moment of commiseration strikes his face, but it doesn't come out his mouth because like fuck would he understand coming back from that.]

[He looks at the ingredients thoroughly.]

They at least have what they call beef and onions. Might be some alien three-headed fish that tastes like beef but that's close enough to me. I'll trust that a human agreed on the flavor.

[He starts putting in the order.]

Whoever committed the bombing was at the scene when it went off. Had to have some sort of detonator on them. That's why the winter coat thing made me curious. It bothers the hell out of me that the robots just fuckin' tranqued you instead of talking to you at the scene and getting you a medic. I just got over hating androids, I don't wanna go right back to being pissed off about it. [He sounds pretty irritable about that, but he might have to.]

What sort of business were you into that terrorists were bringing you back to life and assassins were slitting your throat in a span of a couple of different universes?

Works for me. [even if it is some kind of synthetic meat, he's eaten much worse out of dumpsters. he shrugs.] It was winter where I was before, so that's why I was wearing the coat. Didn't seem like a priority to take it off when I got here. [he'd been disoriented and numb, and hadn't felt hot in the summer weather.

hank seems to know what he's talking about with the bomb and the detonator - jason has plenty of experience with explosives, too - and it seems like there's a story there with the androids, but jason files that question for now in favor of answering hank's.]

Guess you could say I'm in the vigilante business? Since cops and laws don't seem to be getting the job done, where I'm from. First time I died was more of a general sense of duty, going after a criminal who's responsible for the deaths and suffering of hundreds if not thousands of people. I made some stupid mistakes and he got the upper hand. Second time ... the guy came after my friends. I couldn't let that happen. Better me than them, y'know? Old habits die hard.

[ha. his mouth twists into not quite a smile and his gaze drops while he thinks about that, about things cissie said to him when they'd reunited here. about how long they've known each other, through now three weird side trips through the multiverse, how she was immediately kind to him when he showed up in wonderland, bruised and bloody and angry and hurt in more than just the physical sense. something about hank reminds him of how that all went down, and he glances up at him again.]

Why're you being so nice to me right now? You typically play the good cop?

Depends on your definition of good. If you're a fuckin' decent human being you don't eat a whole damn pizza in front of someone without offering them some. I'm gonna be a passable person before I'm any kind of cop.

[He scratches the back of his head. Alright. Vigilantism. He's not really a fan of it, but then again sometimes it has is place. Wierd thing to think, but what the fuck is a private investigator or a bail bondsman if not minor brands of vigilante? Just with a permission slip.]

[So he doesn't really scold. Not when apparently the robots will arrest the guy for existing immediately.]

Some laws are bullshit time-wasters. They just sort of get made to band-aid up a bigger wound that needs stitching and they just get left. It's a problem in any universe. I guess I got lucky in mine. Detroit still has problems but not at the level we used to.

[But he does see why the guy is messed up. But thousands of people? Really? Sounds like a corporate guy to him.]

Edited 2019-08-05 04:33 (UTC)

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