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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

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"It doesn't concern you?" Hank snarks right back but doesn't fight further. Buzzed and without backup, Hank's not eager to pick a fight with a deviant droid directly. If that's what it even is. "Nothing about this fuckin' place feels right."

Hank scrubs a hand down his face, then pushes the flopping dog head of the onesie hood back a bit so it's not shoving his hair directly into his eyes.

"You don't sound very relieved." Maybe it pointed her to whatever passes as service bots around here. AIs don't mean droids. Could just be whatever environmental algorithms are maintaining the life support around here. So far Arid herself has been the only real android Hank's seen. And that still just feels so wrong. For her to be the only one.

"Evaluating potentially faulty units is not my function. My only concern is for the welfare of my pilot. That droid poses no immediate threat, regardless of its malfunction."

She would have meant it, had she said that mere weeks ago. Now... it's what she must say, to feign her own compliance. She's less certain how to relay the intelligence she acquired, and that prompts a moment of hesitation.

"I do not know if these units will be helpful. The information it gave me is... strange." Well. Might as well ask the human. "What is a 'clubhouse'?"

"Makes one of us, I guess." Hank mutters but doesn't argue further. He yawns into a fist, still pleasantly buzzed enough to numb the sharper edges of his prickly demeanor and not yet drunk enough to be prone to his own angst and melancholy.

"Eh? I mean, depends on the context. Could be a play place for kids, or a dance spot for teenagers to get high and hump each other along to some shitty electronica music. Could be a resort for rich fucks to 'get away' from the common rabble. But in general, the idea is the same. It's a place for a certain sect of folk to both interact and self identify by shunning anyone who ain't to their standards."

Behind the apparent single-mindedness she's taking note of his behavior. She's learned the hard way that disregarding such details can lead to missed opportunities. Missed warnings.

She's quiet for a moment, trying to fit the definition he gives her with any kind of AI. Interacting in secret, that she understands. The idea of actively shunning unwanted presences is... well, even considering it is a luxury they aren't supposed to have.

And the way the other bot put it, Arid suspects she would be as much an outsider as the human.

"Then I will make them emerge," she concludes. "I must attempt communication." She's not exactly inviting him to come with, but she gives him a quiet look before turning to head toward this so-called 'clubhouse'. It's not as if she can stop him without outing herself.

Besides. He has made himself useful so far.

"Why do you wish to locate the service bots? This hotel is outside your jurisdiction." She's been thinking about more than her own mission, turns out.

Hank might not have invited himself along for another wander if Arid hadn't regarded him the way she had and then headed off as though she expected him to follow. She's walking to one side of the hall like they've been till now. Leaving him room to keep pace with her.

So he does.

Might as well see this through. His lips pull to the side in some small annoyance at her prying questions. He'd thought he'd been pretty clear about why he was concerned up until now.

"Because every glance around shows this place as modern, and for a modern service industry locale Not to have them is suspicious as fuck." Hank explains amid a grunt of exertion to follow up a particularly long set of stairs. "If they're being misused, there's no telling what kinds of crimes are being done here, and Relaxing at the front for a crime ring doesn't exactly fill me with goddamn joy."

They have to wind through the hotel's various guest rooms for nearly a quarter of an hour before they come to the service halls apparently used to maintain the establishment. Here, a grate has been removed and replaced with what looks to be a tiny door of some kind, though its sealed tight. Hank looks at Arid but before the AI can interface with anything he leans over and raps on it with a knuckle.

It slides open a crack and a bright blue optic light peers out and up at the two of them. The door shuts. An odd sound fills the air behind them as a small end-table materializes out of thin air. Then a bowl, hovering just an inch or so above it. Finally, a bunch of small objects. Once its all materialized the bowl and its contexts drop soundly onto the table with a Pointed Thunk!.

"...Oh." Hank says, with soft understanding and what sounds like a held back laugh.

He suspects a violation of the rules, then. That is logical, given his function, yet... Arid isn't totally sure a zealous attention to protocol matches what she's observed of the lieutenant.

"There is an alternative possibility," she offers, after they've moved aside to let a gaggle of costumed trick-or-treaters past on their hunt for residents offering candy. "The ship itself may possess an AI who oversees its maintenance. Like a domestic Butler unit, transferring its consciousness into lesser appliances as needed."

Not that that's going to stop her from questioning whoever is lurking in this maintenance vent. Arid half raises a hand when the bot behind the tiny door shuts it in their faces, but her annoyance swiftly turns into confusion at the magic trick occurring behind them. True, they've seen some strange technology around this ship, but this is... new. And more importantly, unhelpful.

"What...?" Arid steps closer to scan the bowl. Are... are they being charged just to talk to these little droids?

"It's the cocksucking outfits." Hank grumbles, and he sounds Even More suspiciously like he's failing to stifle a laugh. Because that is absolutely a human sized end table with a blow full of wrapped candy standing politely in front of them as if to say 'help yourself!'

They've been mistaken for the oldest trick or treaters on the goddamn planet.

Hank pinches at the bridge of his nose and huffs out a ~~laugh~~ breath before giving a once over to the little wrapped sweets. Might as well grab one, right? It'd be rude not to or something.

"We've been given treats."

Arid gives him a surprised look, then peers down at herself; it takes a second for her to recalibrate her categorization to comprehend.

"That is not why we are here," she objects, though Hank is free to make the most of the opportunity. At least he can. Arid, however, is going to turn around and rap her fist on the vent door, more sharply than Hank did.

"We do not require treats," she informs the little bot who peeks out again. "We require information."

While Arid is busy looking over their attire and following the train of logic that lead to them being mistaken for trick-or-treaters at the door to this little clubhouse the sound of a wrapper being untwisted around a hard candy crinkles behind her. Hank turns the treat over in his fingers once before popping it into his mouth.

There's something odd in the flavor--a spice or extract he can't place--but otherwise it's close enough to a cinnamon candy for him to be content with the sampling.

"Oh-!" The little floating bot all but squeaks and for something so small and inhuman looking it certainly sounds polite enough to be a concierge droid anywhere Hank's ever been. "That's too bad. We all brought candy but no one else has come by yet."

"I am a droid, not a human," Arid tries pointing out, but the small bot only seems to perk up at that.

"No problem! We have candy calibrated specially for artificial life forms!" A second bowl materializes at the other end of the table, the wrappers distinctly more metallic. Arid turns to give it a nonplussed look before she attempts to clarify.

"I am a combat suit," she explains carefully, getting a curious look in return. "I cannot consume these materials." She pauses slightly. "Perhaps you would receive more visitors if your location was more prominently marked. Provide the information we seek, and we will assist you."

Edited 2024-11-23 15:46 (UTC)

"Wait, candy for...droids?" Hank questions, paying no mind to Arid trying to explain what they're here for. The second he gets an affirmation of any kind he's moving around to Arid's other side to inspect that second bowl.

Okay. Gotta be sure he doesn't mistake what this is later after too-many beers. Maybe he'll put a note on top of them back in his room. But if these are something made for droids to enjoy then there's a small chance these could stop Connor from that irritating coin thing he does whenever he's deep in thought. Or from talking when he shouldn't. Either way, Hank sees a potential use for these. So he stuffs a few into his other pocket. It's not the one he keeps his phone in so he's less likely to grab one of these by mistake.

"They were made for combat--"
"Sunkiss, she's trying to say no politely." Another, even softer voice hisses loud enough for Arid to hear. Somewhere further back in their little enclave.
"Oh. Er. How can we help...?"

The little bot peeps at Hank past Arid's shoulder and bobs up and down with a chipper, "Yep! Some of us helped make it, so I can guarantee it's good!"

It seems hopeful of convincing Arid, too, but its unseen friend dissuades it. The combat suit tilts her head, trying to peer further behind it. How many are hiding in there?

"We are searching for the droids that should service this ship," she explains, conscious of the human listening in. She turns her head slightly to indicate him when she adds, "This police lieutenant is concerned that they may be being used for improper purposes. I seek information concerning the rest of my unit, if any have been seen on board."

"Got someone back home who might like these then." Someone, not one, not it. Hank doesn't even see his own tone shifting. But the longer he spends time with Arid the easier it is to--well. Not relax. Hank's no good with that about anyone. But treat them like he would anyone else.

"Service? We haven't seen any..."

Hank lifts a brow. So they're not the only ones noticing a distinct lack of androids...But he's really never seen any bot look like this.

Arid takes quiet notice of his comment, though partly just because she's still a bit lost about the purpose of this 'candy'. The little floating bot at the door perks up cheerfully though to see someone might enjoy it, despite the no-fun knockoff Titan (Hunter? she has the poncho) insisting on sticking to her weird questions.

"Then you also do not serve this ship?" she asks. It seems to confirm, despite everything, that this vessel is distinctly lacking in bound droids. If these little units are floating around in the vents, they must get everywhere. "How many of you are there? Have you seen any other units like me?"

"Oh, a few of us come and go- we can't float around here all day kicking back and trading stories about our partners, you know? I'll ask the others, but I haven't seen anyone with that kind of armor around. It's different! Very, uhhhhhm, old-school? Anyway, give me a minute here."

Before Arid can react to what it just called her, the bot dips forward as if concentrating, points spinning around its central optic. Then it chirps and looks back up at her. "Nope! The others haven't seen your friends either. But we'll keep our sensors peeled!"

"Wait. The only other bot....non organic we've seen looked nothing like Arid either." Hank says. He's determined to put in a token effort here to get to the bottom of this odd droid-less ship. "Have you seen....any other robots, androids...anything around? Just...be careful if you're going to stick around. Something might have happened to them."

He's got no idea what kind of defense a bot the size of a hovering softball could mount other than agility. But if they're smart enough to be independently wandering around without anyone else, then they're probably at risk if there is anything weird going on here.

Arid turns to look thoughtfully at Hank, while the little bot considers his question.

"Well, I've seen a few... but most of those are guests, like us. Not counting any of us with Exos for partners, of course: I don't... think they're the kind of bot you mean. Do you really think there should be others?"

"Well, yeah. They're everywhere, usually. Almost perfectly human looking, little light on the side of their heads, artificial clothing that usually helps you figure out what kind of model they are..." Hank gestures vaguely while he talks.

He hasn't seen a single droid like the one's he's describing around here, and it's unnerving him. Genuinely.

"Special clothes, huh...?" But the little bot waggles as if to shake its head. "I haven't seen anyone like that around. But maybe they're just doing a very good job of blending in!"

Arid gives it a hard look, there. Given its bizarre behavior, she's not at all sure this AI is any more shackled than she is- and either way, she doesn't want it giving away any of them who've managed to hide so far. Better try and nix this line of thought. "Negative. I would have detected them."

It flexes its points in a little shrug. "Well, people from different places develop artificial life in very different ways. It kind of sounds like you're both looking for something that isn't there."

Hank stares. Is he getting teased? By a bot?

Wait hold up is the bot suggesting he'd use one of the droids like they were some kind of toy--

The detective is too busy blue screening, internally screaming, and then rebooting to interrupt them further. The next glance the little robot gives Hank looks absolutely mortified to the point where even it thinks maybe it's best not to poke too hard on the poor man. The little floating bots apologize to Arid instead, letting her know that they'll tell anyone matching those descriptions she's looking for them before they seal up the vent again an leave the two alone once more in the back of this maintenance hallway.

The stakeout is a strike out, so what does that mean for this place?

Arid stares after the little bots quietly even after the vent has closed, considering what she's learned - how much she dares not draw attention to, with the human there-

Speaking of which, he's been suspiciously quiet. She turns to scan Hank, a little bit ~~concerned~~ uneasy at the expression on his face.

"...Lieutenant? You are... distressed?" She's not really wired to handle that by herself. Well. She would handle it if it were her own pilot. Which he's not, obviously. But he's... her business, in an odd way? He's been helpful, even unwittingly. Arid feels more responsibility in exchange than she might have once. True, he's a human. But he's here in part because she brought him along, so if he's suffered some harm...

"It's nothin'." Hank gruffs so forcefully that even he can tell his voice is too loud in the otherwise empty hallway. "But for th'record, I don't Use droids--I'm not some kinda fuckin' pervert." How the hell that conclusion was jumped to just by looking at him Hank isn't so sure but he hates whatever it is about what he said or how he was standing that made that seem like a fair assumption to make.

"Fuckin' hell. Y'try to keep random droids from gettin' broken or abused and this is the thanks you get...."

"Use them...?" What's wrong with that, from a human perspective- oh. "...You mean for intercourse. You disapprove of that function?"

Her query has the same kind of neutral tone as if he'd expressed a visceral revulsion towards football, because while Arid doesn't particularly care for it either, nor does she understand what the big deal is.

At the same time, his grouching also proves that he is not much like the one other human she's known who vocally rejected the kind of function performed by the Companion and similar models. He didn't like it much the last time she directly queried his concern, though, so Arid refrains; but she does scan him thoughtfully.

"Sex dolls were bad enough, now they think?" Hank shakes his head vehemently. It's not like he's a prude. But consent is nonexistent where droids are concerned and that...really bothers him. A lot. Doesn't matter what bits they've got, either. The whole thing just feels wrong.

Hank heaves a huge sigh and looks back they way they came through maintenance. Not a single other droid, huh? Just what kinda place is this...?

"They do." A quiet affirmation, maybe all she can say because the walking suit of armor can't be anything but hopelessly lost in this area of discussion. But there's some weight to it, that sounds almost like experience.

"Our search was not fruitless. But it appears this ship does not function as we had assumed." She walks over to inspect the bowls of candy still sitting out, before she picks them up. "If you still suspect mistreatment of the organic crew, it may be more effective to investigate after this event has concluded."

Not that she thinks he needs to rest, or anything. He's not her fragile human to worry about.

When he can walk around and not look like someone's low-budget after school special? That's a damn good idea. Hank pats his pocket where the droid-friendly candies are with a small nod to himself. Still got them.

"Sure doesn't." Hank agrees. "Maybe this place isn't as modern as I thought. It just....seems so weird. But not much more to be done tonight either way."

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inperspective - 2024-11-30 15:11 (UTC) - Expand

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