hotelmultiverse | YOU'VE JUST CROSSED OVER INTO -

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YOU'VE JUST CROSSED OVER INTO -

HAPPY HALLOWEEN
from
HOTEL MULTIVERSE AT THE EDGE OF THE COSMOS BETWEEN CANONS™

Guests who find themselves partaking in the Hotel's amenities quickly find some tricks afoot. The decor is first, neon lights changing to autumnal oranges, garish greens, and ghoulish purples overnight. Those who peruse the shops will find them stocked with masks and costumes, and the ambient music which plays throughout the ship is punctured by blood-curdling sound effects such as screams and anxiety-inducing musical stingers. This is Halloween.

Those who utilize the Hotel-provided devices will find an ad splashed across their screens. Similarly, TVs, phones connected to the network, and flyers posted will read:

"FOR THE ENTERTAINMENT OF OUR GUESTS, HOTEL MULTIVERSE AT THE EDGE OF THE COSMOS BETWEEN CANONS™ IS HAPPY TO PROVIDE HALLOWEEN-THEMED ENTERTAINMENT."

Staff members' uniforms change, with employees adding costume pieces to them as the weeks wear on. Guests are strongly encouraged to put together a costume with pieces from the shops, but those who opt out will instead find one of the standard options (listed at the bottom of this post) and chosen at random (by googling "rng 1-19") in their wardrobe.

After dark (or, what would be dark), the ship transforms into a hotel of horrors, the following chaos breaking loose:

TRICK-OR-TREATING
Costumed guests are welcome to partake in trick-or-treating with the ship's staff, who can be found with carts of candy in common areas. Guests are also offered flags for their doorknobs to indicate that they have candy available in the rooms if they would like to partake as well.

SCAREZONES
Grab a map from the concierge or walk the halls at random, but don't be surprised if a staff member jumps at you from the shadows!

HAUNTED HOUSE
Guests using the hotel app will find numerous ads alerting them to a haunted house that's overtaken one of the hotel floors (and honestly, the ads are impressive, opening as an emergency alert to a runaway alien), and the hotel itself plasters the attraction across its screens and walls overnight as well. Obviously, a haunted house is a great thing to do after you've had a ton to drink, or a great way to meet fellow guests (whether or not you're reaching for their hand in fright). However, to ensure the safety of all team members and guests, do not make physical contact with any member of our cast. Remember: the actors' intention is to frighten you.

HORROR MOVIE MARATHON
Guests hoping to keep things a bit more low key might find what they're looking for in the hotel's movie theater and lounges, which offer 24/7 horror movie marathons ranging from the classic to the avant garde. A programming guide can be found outside of each respective screening or on the app. Film buffs will be delighted at the hotel's library, but don't be surprised if your niche fave is banished to a graveyard slot.

MASQUERADE
The hotel's ballrooms are open late for those guests interested in keeping the revelry going night after night. Just don't let the anonymity of your costumes take you too terribly far (or, I mean, do what you want, everyone has a room, after all).

If you aren't able to purchase a costume or aren't feeling inspired, no problem! Our courteous staff have taken the liberty of providing you with a courtesy costume, free of charge, to allow you to participate in the event. You will receive one of the following at random:

01: Ghost
02: Alien
03: Devil
04: Superhero (Your Choice!)
05: Skeleton
06: Pumpkin
07: Zombie
08: Vampire
09: Clown
10: Mummy
11: Werewolf
12: Black Cat
13: Pirate
14: Frankenstein's Monster
15: Witch
16: Spider
17: Bunny
18: Bat
19: Angel

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I was directed to assigned quarters with facilities for recharging," she confirms, without specifying whose name the quarters are assigned to. His adjustment in vocabulary is noted silently, not without appreciation. He may seem dismissive of such details, but Arid is starting to consider that appearances may not tell the whole story.

"It is effective concealment," she has to agree. Even her sensors were ready to overlook the lieutenant for a minute there. "Does your costume hold some significance to you?" She looks down at the cloth draped over her plating. She may be prone to state the seemingly obvious, but her interest has a point to it. "We may be under closer surveillance than I had estimated."

"Is yours?" Hank asks, rather than answering her question right away. What he does is fumble for his phone so he can pull up a picture of the big slob of a dog no doubt taking up the entire couch that he's not supposed to get up on while Hank's busy out of his home.

"I've got a dog that looks like this at home. Not a common pet breed, especially in a city." Which means either this is a hell of a coincidence, or someone thinks they're hot shit knowing something about him. And that's reason enough to be out and about, looking for answers.

Hasn't found any so far though.

"It appears similar to the garments I intended to acquire, on your advisement. I am not certain what else it may represent." Westerns haven't been a part of her minuscule cultural experience. Arid would be more on edge if she thought the observers here might know some truly personal details about her.

Unsure what he has to show her on his phone, Arid leans closer to inspect the image - a domesticated canine? She looks between it and Hank's costume, head tilting curiously as she analyzes the resemblance.

"No-one else on this ship would know that?" Her tone seems... less blandly calm than before. A little darker, more meaningful. "More evidence that we are under observation." Or maybe she's being paranoid because her experiences have taught her to expect manipulation, and the hotel simply accommodating her needs is so foreign that she finds it suspicious.

"I mean, everything I own is covered in his fur, but it'd take a weird sort to know what kind of dog I own just because of that." Hank agrees. He hasn't been chatting up the locals so he's not sure how anyone would know about Sumo.

"...I guess a droid coulda figured it out, probably. I've seen them analyze some Weird goddamn shit before."

In the grossest possible way, at that. He's beyond glad Arid has no visible mouth to speak of. Hank has had enough of droids trying to lick goddamn everything in sight.

"You own a droid?" she asks, curiosity momentarily diverting her from her suspicions. He's clearly somewhat used to synthetics, despite his odd behavior.

She glances back at his phone, giving it a surface-level scan. An AI could also sweep his personal files if their programming permitted it, but that seems uncharacteristic. It's not something she'd be wise to warn him about just yet, either.

"Regardless, your assessment is correct. If a droid is responsible, it may be of no concern. Civilian AIs are commonly programmed to closely observe the humans they serve in order to better anticipate their desires." A human might take the opportunity to lean on the bar while they look around: Arid just turns on her heel, gaze picking out the couple of servers on duty.

"Own? Fuck no." Hank shakes his head quickly. Decisively. Disgusts him to even think about having one of those things in his house. They look so real, and yet... The thought of one of Them finding his little Hobby set up in his kitchen, or touching any of the photos around the place. Thinking they could understand him? No, not a chance.

"The department has some though. Worked with a couple different models." Hank gives Arid an appraising look. Trying to decide how similar any of them are to what looks very much like a Military-adjacent model. "None quite as....intimidating as you, admittedly."

Sssssssip. Ah, that's the good stuff. The burn that muddies the sharp edges on all his thoughts.

"What're you up to tonight?" He didn't happen to see where Arid came in from in his content to sit and linger on his beverage.

Arid turns just enough to give him the little headtilt that says he's being weird again. Perhaps it's normal for a human not to own a personal droid, but it's interesting that he sounds emphatically opposed to the idea, despite not seeming hostile towards her. She doesn't ask, though. Not yet.

"Logical." She's fine with being acknowledged as intimidating. There's a little hint of a satisfied undertone to her voice. "I am a state-of-the-art war machine. I am unfamiliar with civilian enforcement models, but their operational restrictions are significantly different." She wonders what they're like, though. What rules they're bound to follow...

Ah. She's prepared a story for this question. It's even basically true. "I am attempting to locate any service droids aboard this vessel. They may be able to assist me in locating any members of my unit who have visited previously. However, I have encountered very few so far."

"Yeah, yeah..." Military grade tech, probably able to shoot a goddamn plane out of the sky or something straight out of a Terminator movie. Hank's privately glad that militarization of the police has gone down a hell of a lot since droids came into the picture. Helped bridge a safety gap without every department having their own goddamn strike team or whatever.

It's what you get with a generation raised on video games, he supposes.

"Well, I'd introduce you to the prototype they saddled me with..." But a vague gesture says it hasn't followed him out This far. Hank is baggage free while he's out here. "But this ain't exactly Detroit. And he's sure as hell not coming all the way out here."

"A prototype?" That does sound interesting. A pity it isn't with him, although Arid should know to be wary around unusual droids. She still has some of those scars. Hank definitely has her full attention again, whether he likes it or not.

"Is he... not useful?" Saddled with, he says. A potential opening for Arid to probe this strange human's perspective. It may not be the enforcement bot's fault, even if he is the kind of prototype with more than a few bugs left to work out. She's certainly not going to suggest to a human that he might be faulty. She knows too well the consequences of that label.

"He's a pain in my ass is what he is." Hank mutters, and yet there isn't really the same kind of heat in his words as there was when he said he'd never own a droid. It's definitely no affection--not yet. But it could be. He's lifted his voice from its usual gravelly tone to something lighter and more earnest in imitation of the droid sent by Cyberlife that let itself into his life.

"That's bad for you, do you know how many calories are in that?" Hank imitates before rolling his eyes and throwing back the rest of his shot all at once. He makes a louder noise of satisfaction once he's done swallowing.

"Yet who was it that stuck his fingers in fucking denaturing thirium then put them in his mouth like it was the most fuckin' natural thing in the world? Most advanced piece of tech on the market--dumb as a fuckin' rock. It's like walking around with an armed toddler, you know that?"

No, it's not affection. Irritation, frustration, but worry too. What would happen to Connor with Hank not there to keep the goddamned droid from getting into all manner of trouble? What would happen to him? He doesn't care--shouldn't care. He never asked to be saddled with the prototype and put on this fucking android case. But he has been and....

And Hank feels guilty for being here, instead of back in Detroit.

He feels a lot of things that hurt too much to examine, and so he drinks until they bleed away.

"Anyway, he's. More reliable than he looks, I guess." Comes Hanks begrudging acquiescence. Connor's not here to hear it, so with the drink loosening his tongue, Hank supposes no harm can come from admitting he doesn't loathe the damn thing.

Edited 2024-10-30 13:26 (UTC)

Arid listens, a little bemused, mostly analyzing the layers to what he's saying. Partly trying to shake the sense that his tone here is far too familiar.

"Some units can be... frustrating to cooperate with," she acknowledges, ignoring the sudden thought that she must have frustrated her first ally exactly like this. "Especially if their programming is too narrow to allow flexibility. As an advanced model, perhaps he will prove more adaptable."

If the other bot is lucky, he may even survive the experience.

"I will log your preference not to be notified of incipient health threats," she adds in a deadpan voice. Funny, how he complains as if he is the one who needs to look out for his droid's safety.

Arid may glimpse the hint of a smile that briefly flickers across Hank's aging face. He'd deny it if she told him he had. Deflect and say even a droid could tell how green Connor was.

But it's weird. For as much as he bitches and moans....Arid's not half bad. Connor may not be either if Hank gave him half a chance to try. But he doesn't have to see Arid day in and day out, either.

"Good. I'm perfectly capable of ending my own life, thank you very much." And just like before, his tone doesn't match what must be a particularly dark joke. "So. No luck tracking down any of your kin around I take it?"

That's a joke. It must be, logically. Arid isn't sure she understands it, but there's a lot she doesn't understand about human behavior. She seems momentarily puzzled by his referring to her 'kin' as well, before she just interprets it as referring to other droids.

"None." None she's going to rat on, anyhow. "Yet. I have been exploring the rear areas of similar establishments in case some are kept there to attend customers. So far, I have not found any. I may need to adjust my search parameters."

She pauses. "I also logged several stores which may be relevant to your previous search for clothing- if you still require it."

"That's so damn bizarre." Hank remarks with a shake of his head. "Feels like you can't spit without hitting half a dozen droids where I'm from, and given your design it must be much the same for you. But there's none here. I can't get over it."

He thought he'd feel more comfortable like this. For as long as Hank's told himself he can't stand droids, being in a place Without them feels...tense. Hank can't let his guard down, ever. Droids are easy to deal with by and large. People though? People are fucked to high hell.

"They've gotta be somewhere. That's all I can figure." And Hank's not sure he likes the idea of where they'd be hidden away.

"Affirmative. On a vessel this size, the complement of droids should outnumber the organic crew by a significant factor." She remembers tapping into the network of the ship Josephs first hid aboard; the sheer number of other consciousnesses linked to it... "Of course, most would be simple, non-sentient models."

Which doesn't disprove the lieutenant's point. Arid scans their surroundings once more, keeping well aware of the patrons who pass too close. The sound of tipsy chatter and clinking glasses has some... uneasy associations for her, even if she's ignoring it.

"'Robots are best unseen'..." It's a quiet realization, a lightbulb going off somewhere in there. "My approach has been faulty." She turns to look up at the flat display screen mounted behind one end of the bar; whatever it shows on other nights, right now it's cycling through advertisements for the various Halloween entertainments on board. The 'scare zones' in particular...

"Knew I couldn't be the only one who thought it was fucked." It doesn't occur to Hank that there simply are no androids to be found in such a place. It seems Modern in every other regard, so surely droids must exist.

And hell, Arid's here. So clearly some are. And there must be others. Even if Hank didn't want to get up this many drinks in, he can tell Arid's had a thought. If he lets her go, he might not get any closer to answers to what's bothering him, either.

"Alright." Hank grunts and shoves himself away from the bar. "Let's go do some investigating."

He means to accompany her? Arid's gaze snaps back to him, as if she's about to ask. But after a long moment of scrutiny - of the human police lieutenant in his incongruous soft dog onesie - Arid nods slowly, with a tip of her outsized cowboy hat.

"Understood," she says. "Follow me." She turns, and heads out of the bar, apparently with a clear destination in mind. She's not explaining yet, but she has reached the conclusion that maybe she can use a human ~~accomplice~~ decoy on this particular mission.

Outside, the 'street' is bustling with people of all shapes and sizes - all the more varied for the sometimes outlandish costumes they're wearing. Arid appears to take no heed as she cuts through them, unless you're looking close enough to spot how she surveys everyone around her. And how she's careful to stop and keep track of Hank should he drop behind at all. She's really not trying to lose him. On the contrary - she thinks his participation may be key, for her new strategy. Though if he's too slow she will stop and give him some additional scrutiny.

"Alright. Where to?" He's hoping Arid's going to give him SOME kind of information to go off of. Otherwise he'll be stuck tailing her and trying to sober up at the same time while they wind their ways past throngs of kids roaming round in groups.

Too many kids in a place like this, Hank thinks. He hopes their folks are nearby.

"The scare zones." She's busy leading the way, but she does pause to explain. Sort of. She expects him to fill in the blanks, or doesn't care if he fails to. "Service bots are expected to remain out of sight until needed. I was incorrect to seek them out directly. I should look for humans in distress."

She's slowly leading the way away from the commercial areas. Towards the more isolated corridors where staff members are wont to spook the guests - or be compelled to assist them.

Arid looks back at her human companion as they steer into a corridor away from the general public, into an area marked by plastic skulls and silly-string 'cobwebs'. "Try to appear disgruntled."

"You want me....t'pretend to be scared?" What the hell kind of plan is...actually it's not Bad and that only serves to annoy Hank further. He's starting to look more and more pissed as he glowers over his crossed arms and realizes he must look absolutely ridiculous in his big floppy dog suit.

"Fuckin' hell..."

"Irritation will be sufficient." She may be keeping that neutral, 'innocent' tone, but a suspicious mind might think she's sneakily amusing herself at his expense. Arid considers him for a moment before nodding. "That affect is appropriate. Please continue."

She's not just expecting him to do all the work of playing bait, though. Hence the direction she's leading them in. "We will seek out humans expressing excessive fear as an alternative. Any form of human distress or displeasure should compel a service bot to respond if it is in range."

Please continue. Yeah, she's fucking with him alright. But Hank knows how to make a scene when needs must. He's not above doing it either if it'll get them answers.

"Next time you get to play th'decoy." He grumbles from around his hunched sulk. But a second later he's sucking in a breath and nodding to himself.

"I don't fuckin' understand what the big deal is!" He turns and yells her way suddenly. Aggression, displeasure. He's better at faking that than he is fear or unease. And in his share of work Hank's dealt with more than he'd ever care to in unreasonable people. "This supposed to be an attraction or what?! Where's th'decor? Huh? My grandson's kindergarten class could have set this shit up better!"

He gets the satisfaction of startling her, at least judging by the jolt through her armored form. And he earns a slight nod once she's taken in his performance: she didn't expect him to play along this much, but he's very good at it. That ought to draw some attention, keep it up.

She deliberately led them down a hallway without any obvious crew, to minimize the chances that an organic would respond. Still, it might take a couple of tries - and one case of a startled Arid grabbing a would be jumpscare slasher by the arms - before their fishing expedition gets the correct bite. Sort of.

A door they pass slides open to allow a stubby, waist-high robot through. Arid lets out a low murmur of "Success!" as the unfamiliar model rolls out to scan Hank with a single glowing optic built into its rounded cap. It doesn't look at all humanoid, and when it pipes up to address the human it's in an incomprehensible series of beeps and trills. She hastily moves to interpose herself, leaning over the smaller bot. "Greetings. Please identify yourself and state your primary function."

In response, the smaller droid gives her a sharp whistle: whatever it says, Arid jerks back slightly. "Ex... cuse me??"

Well would you look at that!

It's...oh. It's the lovechild of a trash can and a roomba. Not exactly the height of technology Hank was expecting. Arid certainly thinks it's some kind of success even if Hank doesn't. He huffs in frustration and disappointment both while Arid turns her attention to it but he jumps when she recoils in her offense.

"What? Wasn't this the whole point?"

It may not be much to look at by Arid's standards either, but it does appear to be sentient enough to communicate what she wants to know. Scratch that- it's sentient enough to have some sharp things to 'say' about all the noise the human is making, much to her surprise. Aren't civilian droids meant to be nice to humans?

"What-?" She recalls too late that Hank is just by her shoulder, head snapping around to look at him. "Negative," she corrects, hastily trying to cool her tone. "I was not addressing you. The other unit is being... discourteous."

The stubby droid's optic turns between them with an electronic trill. Arid stares it down. Okay then, less manners, more bargaining.

"I cannot," she says simply, lowering her voice a little. "We require information first. Provide it, and he will cease causing a disturbance." Hank has been promoted from bait to threat, apparently?

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