don't go breaking my heart

[inaclearing]

[Well. All that sure happened!

Brett hasn't done much for one of these post-trial gatherings thus far, but he's been trying very hard to be functional lately, and...well, the fact that so many other people aren't okay right now just makes that all the more important. So he'll go around telling people, or slipping notes under doors if need be:]

We're going to have some food at the bar, if anyone wants it.

- Brett & Joy

[It feels a little weird to have it there, but...let's be honest. He expects quite a few people will be passing through the bar of the own accord tonight. They may as well not drink on empty stomachs.

There's not a ton going on. Brett's figured out how to turn the light-up dance floor off - it seemed a little inappropriate. Despite being hosted at the bar, Brett hasn't actually set out any alcohol; there's tamagoyaki and a big vat of chicken noodle soup sitting on some tables in the middle of the room, as well as tea for anyone who wants a drink that isn't alcoholic. Everyone who does want to drink can serve themselves. Also, someone has draped a rainbow pride flag over the bar? It seems appropriate given who's throwing the party, at least, and he didn't really have it in his to stop Joy, so.

You're free to turn on some music, if you want. Brett couldn't pick anything out on the jukebox, it seems.]

Comments

[dullshooter]

[Misfire doesn't go to the parties, and he sure as hell isn't going to start now. He's got a whole lot of feelings that make him too unpleasant to be around, and no good ideas on what to do about them. He might've been desensitized coming into this, but he is - as you might say - getting tired of this shit now.

He needs to cool off, or burn out, or - something. It's in his aimless wandering he passes by the meeting room. He spots the table. He doesn't need to consider it for a moment longer.

His hands are on the table. It's being flipped. It crashes to the ground. God, that felt good.

But, you know - flipping tables doesn't heal all wounds. He'll go scout out some of that gasoline, because what a way to learn that that's in supply, and sit in the garden with it for a while. Just drinking straight out of the container.

He will, at some point, much later in the night, go back to Seo Dawon's room. There's something he has to collect, at least.]

seo dawon’s room

[howveryglib]

[hey guess who’s coming back from being kind of morose in the garden

that’s right. it’s woofie. he does just kind of stand awkwardly next to his own door when he sees misfire because like… he feels like… he should say something…]

[asymptotes]

[ Drakkon formed a lot of habits, back when he went by Tommy Oliver, that have been hard to break. Alcohol, for example, has never held much appeal. Junk food, the same.

So it's probably a little strange to see this guy who radiated Dad for so long waltz in after the things he said during the trial and just... grab some tea and soup and a table. Where he's calmly sitting, occassionally sipping one or the other, gaze... intense in thought. ]

[visiblepattern]

[Forrest isn't going to be at the afterparty; he isn't at the garden, either, where he usually would be as the late night hours stretch on.

However, for the sake of reference and thoroughness, I suppose, he's going to lock himself in his room, where he plans to stay until he decides to do otherwise.]

[hotpaprika]

[Jonathan gently knocks on his door, leaving a tray of tea, sandwiches, and cakes in front of his bedroom door. He's going to linger in the living space for a little longer, but he won't force Forrest to have a conversation with him unless he really wants to.

There is also a glass of blue curacao with it!]

[inaclearing]

[Brett, having taken up anti-poisoning duty at the afterparty, knows full well that Forrest didn't get any of that food. But that also means that he doesn't really know that he's been locked in his room all night. So when he does go by later with a bowl of the remaining soup, he hesitates, and ultimately decides to knock first.]

Forrest? Are you in there?

[howveryglib]

[okay. he is not aware if Forrest already got tea. He probably has given that he is a good lad and people care about him.

…

but still he is going to knock at his door with a teacup that has, perhaps, too much honey in it, because he is nothing if not a little extra.]

[onemillion]

[Today's been so much. Rossiu wants to just go to bed and hope things will be looking better on Sunday... but he gets the invitation and he decides to go. It's less because he wants the company or the food or even alcohol and more because... well, sometimes just putting in an appearance is good enough.

Though honestly, he doesn't really know what to do at the afterparty... He does end up preparing some tea so he'll be at a table sipping that if you want to join him! He's not really reaching out for conversation, but he's not opposed to it either - for now he's content to remain here and watch everyone else.

Later on, he heads to the ice cream parlor. It's unsurprisingly repaired and even though a murder took place here not all that long ago... he has a job to do. So he heads over to the jukebox and finds track 1921, like Aiba said. Feel free to join him if you overheard that conversation and want to hear Aiba's last words!]

1921

[pairtner]

I will attempt to make this short, as I'm aware I have done something that cannot be overlooked and my word most likely will be ignored.

This is my vote of confidence in the end you all will be the ones left standing, while this body is executed. As morbid as it is to leave this inside the jukebox Undertaker is beneath of, I had always intended to leave my last word here. If you find in yourself to listen, go ahead:

My designation is AI-Ball, one of the very few that exist. My name is Aiba. I was created for and assigned to special ABIS agent Kaname Date, as his eye, his assistant, and his companion. That is my duty for the foreseeable future. We AI-Balls take our partners' wellbeing very seriously, as we often are created specifically to be compatible with them. I would turn my back on ABIS itself if I had to, if it meant choosing between him and them.

That said...I was not ready to make a choice between him and twenty-four people from other worlds.

Do you know the trolley problem? The trolley problem is a thought experiment in ethics about a fictional scenario in which an onlooker has the choice to save 5 people in danger of being hit by a trolley, by diverting the trolley to kill just 1 person. This problem lies the ethical dilemma of acceptable sacrifices. I had the choice to save Date and anybody he could harm or kill, by diverting the metaphorical trolley into a route that would kill everyone currently alive in New Rapture. I considered such an option unacceptable, so I faced it as one death and my own destruction instead.

However, this is a weak justification. A thought experiment does not equate reality. I have taken a life. That's what matters here.

Now I understand how difficult such a decision is. At the start of all this, I already was unwilling to be destroyed given it would mean I would have no memory of everybody's plight in this city -- since I'm currently working with local memory, not connected to my central programming. After a while, though, I gained...personal reasons in addition to that. I wasn't meant to know and talk to others like I have during this last month. Through talking to you all I have known a social experience perhaps no AI-Ball is meant to ever know. If I were to put it into more relatable terms, it's like trying a limited edition soda knowing it won't exist next week. Were I to return home, I most likely never again would have such a...wide social circle.

But I'm not returning home. Once this body is destroyed, this fragment of myself will be gone as well. I exist, far away in my own world, unaware of this city and of you all. A person's memories are what creates their current selves, and that is especially true in AIs. The Aiba everyone knew here is...gone.

I am truly sorry it came to this due to my own actions. Among my regrets is the pain this undoubtedly caused many of you, both those who befriended Undertaker and those who befriended me.

I have taken absolutely no measures to conceal my actions in this parlor. I also performed suboptimal decisions. I cannot go against my core programming, as self-preservation is ingrained into me unless given direct admin command, but I can make a result I want happen indirectly. Just like I indirectly murdered Undertaker by setting everything here to kill him, this all also will serve as your weapons against me during the trial.

[Pause]

I have one single request. I left my personal portable radio in the Hall of Founders, stashed in a corner. It has some modifications to allow me to store my memories. I have been storing backups since I finished it. Last backup I made included the details of this plan, although I didn't know who the victim would be. If someday, in the astronomically, almost impossible chance you meet me, any AI-Ball, or you meet Kaname Date again...give them the radio and tell them it contains my memories.

It's selfish, but I want to remember everyone I met here and everything that has happened until now.

And I want to remember the crime I committed.

[Pause]

These are a few words from a song from my world. They feel ridiculous since I don't believe in them for myself -- but it might mean something to some of you. I cannot bring myself to sing right now, so perhaps reciting them will be enough...

Resist! Your dreams are worth defending!
Fight on! Your will is unbending!
See through the void in your eye: unblinking!
The pyramid of your mind: unending!
Revolt! Even with death impending!
Live on! Dream through space: rending!
Walking with the spirit of hope beside you,
and our hope shall never die!

[At the end there's a soft, embarrassed laugh. It's most likely the first time anyone has heard Aiba laugh at all]

I'm never living this one down, am I?

[The recording ends there]

[allatonce]

[Joy's a little out of it, but she's got a lesbian flag draped over her shoulders like a cape and she'll serve food to whoever comes by. Throughout, she seems to be fiddling with the bracelet Dandy left her.

After half an hour or so, she's put a song on the jukebox and appears to just be staring off into the distance while she sips at her vodka soda.

Later, like much later, Joy can be found sitting in the church and staring into the middle distance. There's a black oval painted on the wall that she seems to be fixated on.]

jukebox

[inaclearing]

...Mulan?

[Yeah that's it that's the whole question. Brett's just over here at a different table, also pretty much just staring into the middle distance, with occasional breaks to make sure no one's like, dumping cyanide into the soup or anything.]

[capreelcious]

[ Floyd doesn't go to the meeting. Well, not right away. He goes back to his room and changes out of his bloodied outfit before heading to the Art Supply Store. You can see him getting posters and markers and drawing something.

Once he's done, everyone will be able to see his handiwork at the bar: Four images are on display in some of the chairs. It's memorial drawings of The Undertaker, Space Dandy, Seo Dawon and Aiba. They're not the best drawings, but they are accurate enough. It does look like he took a bit more time working on the Undertaker's, though. Once they're sitting there, proper, the eel grabs some tamagoyaki and leaves. Where does he go?

...To the pool. He needs time to think, and swimming - or at least floating in his case is helping him a bit. It might take a moment to get his attention, though.

Afterwards, you can find him at The Undertaker's Room, looking around, sitting around.

...Floyd is officially the last living member of Suite 2. ]

The Undertaker's Room

[hotpaprika]

[Jonathan is passing by when he notices Floyd. He pauses, before gently knocking on the door frame.]

Do you mind if I come in?

The Undertaker's room

[giddyundertaker]

[ Seems like the Undertaker left a few audio tapes to listen to... Along with other things.

Care to poke around? ]

[inaclearing]

[Brett doesn't have the greatest track record when it comes to properly attending one of these things, but it seems like he takes his hosting duties today seriously. He's in the bar for most of the evening, sitting near the refreshments table. There's a bowl of soup in front of him, but he only seems to be half-heartedly eating it; mostly, he's watching the food.

If anyone seems to be looking at it, hesitating, he speaks up:]

I made the soup and Joy made the eggs. I've been here the whole time.

[There is, after all, still a poisoner on the loose.

Other than that, he doesn't seem inclined to start up many conversations. Blake Bortles is here; he feeds him some fish. He looks a little distant, honestly.

Once everybody seems to be packing it in, Brett will finally leave. He stops by the department store, where he picks up some...rope? He also ducks into the art store briefly. You can find him after this, late in the night, standing on the patio and just...liberally pouring paint on the ground around himself. You know, as you do.

The ultimate goal here is to tie himself to one of these tables - he actually does a pretty good knot, he learned some shit from the kids - and also potentially have the paint to leave some kind of tracks if he or anyone else walks through it when midnight hits. He was going to try some of this with Dandy, but Dandy's gone now, so...fuck it, let's just see if anything happens.]

bar

[asymptotes]

[ At some point, Drakkon walks up to Brett. Sits across from him. ]

So. Exclusive interview with a superhero? Well. Ex-superhero.

Patio

[howveryglib]

[…

OH. He sees the paint. Well. Okay.]

Please tell me you are attempting some sort of experiment and that you have not gone completely mad.

[specialyellthing]

[Zinda has only made brief visits to the other after parties, having a dislike for funerals.

But this? This is her type of a sending off, and she arrives promptly after she’s showered off Dandy’s blood, clad in the Bortles jersey and a pair of rolled up jeans. And then she starts to drink. And drink. And continue to drink. And once that’s done, she drinks some more.

It’s impressive. What’s more impressive is that it doesn’t seem to be inebriating her as much as it should be—- several drinks in, and all that’s happened is lowered inhibitions and a much brighter mood.

She can be caught perched on the edge of the bar, eager to talk anyone up—- or later into the evening, when she climbs onto the table and raises the bottle.]

To the friends and foes we’ve lost. Hawkah!

[After that she’s just as likely to drag anyone onto the dance floor. She doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. Stopping means thinking, remembering and feeling. She doesn’t have time for any of that now. ]

[allatonce]

[Joy lets herself be dragged onto the dance floor, because like. She's a lesbian and only so strong.]

I don't really know how to dance.

[inaclearing]

[Brett, on the other hand, is gay and does make something of an effort not to be dragged onto the dance floor!]

I don't think I'm really up for it.

[hotpaprika]

[Jonathan, once again, makes rounds giving snacks and tea to those who aren't attending, with an additional glass of wine as well in case someone needs something stronger.

He does, eventually, make it to the bar, feeling somewhat awkward even being there, but... well... he needed a drink.

And yet... he doesn't drink the glass he pours himself. He stares at it, stares at his reflection.

Instead, he pull a book from his jacket and begins reading.]

[allatonce]

Not feeling getting shitfaced anymore?

[She slides onto the seat next to him.]

[howveryglib]

[Sooooo Gaius feels… like he should show up at the afterparty to at least give off the impression he’s okay, because that’s important. It feels important. He’s going to eat some tamagoyaki and crack open a beer and… not be particularly social in the nightclub, honestly. No partying here… just… trying to not look miserable.

He tries to hit the arcade afterward and he fucks around on a shooty game for a while but his heart isn’t in it, so he’ll just head to the garden to look up at the sea with… another beer. Look, he’s tall and beefy. It’s gonna take more than two to fuck him up.]

[fuckingguy]

[ Nandor shows up to the afterparty for pretty much whatever the duration of Kokomo (Seafaring Song) is! Like, he just walks in to get some drunk blood, sees that the get-together is happening, punches in the song, and stays until it ends. Then he leaves with a blood bag and a little cordial glass, which is, you know, fine! And he doesn't return. You can find him in the art supply store for a while, looking at necklace cords, but eventually he ends up in the garden. It's not the best place to be alone, he knows, since people end up gravitating there eventually... but he had something in mind.

He stands before the gravestone the Undertaker made for a while, then empties his glass onto the nearby soil. Afterwards, he sits on a bench, the glass once again full of an opaque red liquid. He reads New Moon for a while, ignoring the world around him, but it is hard to focus on the words.

He retires to his room early, and falls into a deep and dreamless slumber. ]

Garden

[hotpaprika]

[Jonathan sees Nandor at the Garden and finds himself sitting down next to him. He doesn't say anything, he just lets himself chill with him.]

[chemicalromance]

[Well.

It's been some time since your assistant has been out of her office, hasn't it? And, just like last time, it's difficult to say exactly when Eleanor turns up to the bar.

This time, she doesn't balk at the entrance. She steps to the bar itself, heavy metal boots clunking on the hardwood. Stopping, she'll grab a seat - not in the middle of everything, mayor forbid - but she's found a place to put herself in all of this... chaos.

Not once do her eyes meet anyone else's. Not for a few fleeting seconds.]

[howveryglib]

[...he does a double take actually, what... on earth....]

...

It is a surprise to see you here.

[sastruga]

[Mafuyu is at the nightclub, so like, if nothing else almost dying here doesn't seem to have completely traumatized her into avoiding it. That's good! She's generally sitting either with Mielle or by herself.

She has some tea, which she's... well, she's a little distracted, by everything? So you might just spot her putting salt in there instead of sugar.

It's just that kind of evening guys.

Afterwards, she's... well nowhere in particular, actually. She's kind of wandering for a while, just staring out some of New Rapture's windows, into the ocean. Literally just staring for like, a good while. She's vibing.

Speaking of vibing, that's also what she's gonna be doing when she returns to suite 3 later, just lying on the couch and doing nothing at all. That's not even because of the trial or anything, she's just tired.]

nightclub

[specialyellthing]

[how did this beer get right next to her]