[1] - [Voice]

[sharpememory]

[Sounding slightly amused, but still stern.] Dear patrons. I'm disappointed to say that a certain item has gone missing from one of our passengers. If you've seen a stray notebook containing yellow legal paper, I firmly suggest that you return it to the library. No questions asked, of course.

[And on to pleasant voice.] And for the rest of you, please enjoy your day.

[People-With-Gloves Filter. If you've been wearing gloves lately, you're included.]

It appears that someone has removed this notebook from my room. It's a manuscript for a novel I'm writing and I'd be very upset to lose it. It would mean a lot to me if it was returned before our next staff meeting.

[OOC: What's going on here: Barron's assumed that he's on some kind of hippy cruise, filled with the bizarre kind of people who don't wear gloves. Which in his universe is the equivalent of being half naked. So he's assumed that he's working here while trying to scam someone out of something and has forgotten a huge chunk of information after using his power. He also thinks that everyone he's seen wearing gloves is a normal person catering to the rest of you strange nudists (so cruise staff members). Finally, Barron thinks that he's lost the notebook where he wrote how he got here and is on a mission to find it. And sorry for the info dump, guys. :c]

Comments

[buywithme.livejournal.com]

You got your brother to turn his daughter into a cat! The fact that she was eventually turned back regardless of your efforts probably didn't endear him to you, Comrade!

All right, Comrade, would you like me to come to your cabin? Or you could come to mine? Or we could meet somewhere neutral, like... the pub?

[sharpememory.livejournal.com]

That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Everyone knows that there aren't any transformation workers in America. [OH GOD, WHAT DID CASSEL TELL HIM. D:]

We should meet in the bar. I've got a feeling that I'm going to need a drink. Or three.

[buywithme.livejournal.com]

All right, Comrade. If you meet me on deck, I can let you through to the bar?

I'll see you in a few minute.

[sharpememory.livejournal.com]

Sure. I'll see you there.

SPAM!

[buywithme.livejournal.com]

[And sure enough, within a few minutes Prefect is hovering around on deck, waiting for Barron to show up. Strangely he actually feels more confident with this inmate than he did with Sonmi. At least with Barron, if he is terrible at his job:

a) There's no need to feel guilty, since his inmate is clearly a terrible person.

And

b) Barron probably won't even remember!

From Prefect's perspective, this is a win/win scenario!]

SPAM!

[sharpememory.livejournal.com]

[And hey, here's Barron rocking up about ten minutes late. Mainly because the barge is lacking in maps. Not to mention that he wouldn't have picked a bar being up on the top of a barge. And the whole 'space sky' thing is creeping him out.]

[And hey, there's only one random guy hanging around on the deck. Time to approach him!] Hey, you're the Prefect, right?

SPAM!

[buywithme.livejournal.com]

[Oh! The Prefect! Until that moment he'd never noticed how much he'd missed people using his title as a title, instead of just as a name. Hearing it from Barron brightened Prefect's day, and he repaid his inmate with a well trained and reassuring grin!]

I am! It's good to meet you, Barron!

[He offers a handshake, then thinks better of it, quickly withdraws his hand, and gives a friendly wave instead.]

Ah, the bar is just through here!

[He gestures to the door, leading into the wardens area, and unhooks the clunky, 70's police radio from his belt, to unlock it.]

SPAM!

[sharpememory.livejournal.com]

[Barron was finding Prefect more than a little bit disturbing. It was probably all the smiling. And oh, the disappointment that Prefect doesn't want to shake hands. It also convinces Barron that Prefect knows that he's a worker. Which was, of course, a Very Bad Thing.]

I know where the bar is. [And hold on, what's with that radio? Have some staring at it, Prefect. But what the hey, being civil never hurt.] Nice radio. Where did you find it?

SPAM!

[buywithme.livejournal.com]

[Prefect was feeling too polite to be difficult about the fact that Barron couldn't have known where the bar was at that point, besides, he was more or less impartial to being lied too. For the time being it was a victimless crime.

As the lock clicked open, Prefect pushed the door open and held it for Barron to pass through.]

What, this? [He hefted the radio slightly.] I sort of... inherited it, when my warden left, back when I first graduated.

[That sounded impressive. Like he'd been doing this for years rather than a couple of months.]

SPAM!

[sharpememory.livejournal.com]

[Barron walked through the door, taking note of the fact that it looked like it had a lock. That was strange, to say the least. If the cruise limited access to it they'd be cutting themselves out of a lot of profits. Then again, that was hardly the strangest thing he's seen that day.]

Your warden must have been ancient. [Because on closer inspection, that radio was huge compared to anything more modern. Barron took a seat at the bar immediately. It had been a long day.] So you used to play an inmate before you played a warden?

[Oh, Barron was getting a fair idea of how their game worked. It didn't seem that complicated.]

SPAM!

[buywithme.livejournal.com]

[Prefect nodded, following Barron through into the Wardens area.] Yes, Comrade, he was from the seventies.

[He clipped the radio onto his belt, and frowned at Barron.] And Comrade, I don't know how many times I have to tell you, this isn't a game! I was an inmate, and then I graduated and it was real!

SPAM!

[sharpememory.livejournal.com]

[Barron just shrugged, and gave Prefect a large grin.] I'm sure that it's completely and utterly real. To you.

[Memory working was a funny thing. No matter how bizarre the memory, people were so keen to believe it. As if everything in their heads wasn't up for grabs. But if he was here, he may as well get in on the game.] So how do I 'graduate', exactly?

SPAM!

[buywithme.livejournal.com]

[Prefect sighed woefully.] Comrade, just try to bear in mind that if someone threatens to kill you, they probably aren't just struggling to remain in character?

[Finally coming to the door of the bar, Prefect stepped aside to let Barron through ahead of him once more.] You graduate by surrendering your life of crime and becoming a good person. It's usually not very easy, and the success ratio is really extremely low.

SPAM!

[sharpememory.livejournal.com]

Sure, sure. I'll make sure to keep that in mind. [Barron waved a hand nonchalantly. He doubted that any of the marks on the cruise would have the guts to try and kill him.]

[Barron walked through the door before turning to look back at Prefect, smiling.] That's the problem though. This 'life of crime'? It doesn't exist. Frankly, I'm an excellent person. You've just been tragically misinformed.

SPAM!

[buywithme.livejournal.com]

[Prefect gave Barron a look of mild exasperation, before pulling a copy of his rolled up file from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.] Here.

[Handing it over, he headed to the bar and reached across it to snatch the nearest bottle from behind it. Tequila? Did he like tequila? Did it matter? Setting it on the bartop, he set about rooting over the counter for two glasses.] Comrade, I know that you're not going to believe me, but I've been here for about three years, and that isn't how it works.

SPAM!

[sharpememory.livejournal.com]

[Barron took the file and flicked through it. Even the few pages he glimpsed was enough for his heart to start pounding in his chest. Lila, Zacharov. Murders he remembered doing and murders that he didn't. He looked over to Prefect, who seemed to be very intent on preparing that tequila.]

I didn't do this. [Barron walked over to the bar and put the file down.] I don't know where this information comes from. But I swear to you that I haven't done any of these things.

SPAM!

[buywithme.livejournal.com]

[Prefect poured out two glasses of tequila, and gave Barron a mild look.] Comrade, you did do those things, and you're dead, so it's not as if you can keep out of trouble by lying about it.

[He took a sip of his tequila, before gesturing to the file in his inmates hands.] Flick to the last page, it'll tell you how you died.

SPAM!

[sharpememory.livejournal.com]

I'm not lying. [Barron's tone was getting darker by the moment. He took one of glasses, and drank about half of it in one go before continuing.] I've been framed.

[Barron didn't elaborate on that rather dramatic statement, but did turn to the last page of the file. He started reading just how he'd been jumped by one of Zacharov's goons and just how he'd had his throat cut. He drank the rest of his tequila.]

Re: SPAM!

[buywithme.livejournal.com]

Comrade, [Prefect said, matter of factly] This is the afterlife, you can't have been framed.

[He polished off his own tequila, before reaching for the tequila and topping them both up.]

SPAM!

[sharpememory.livejournal.com]

[And here's Barron, downing that glass of tequila. This night is going to end well.]

No way. I'm not buying any afterlife business. Someone made the end of that up. [Barron said, pointing at the file.] I'm still here. So it's wrong.

SPAM!

[buywithme.livejournal.com]

[Drunk your tequila already, Barron? Well I guess that means you need another one then! Prefect tops up the glass again obligingly.]

Well, yes, but Comrade, that's assuming that 'here' really is a... pretend... game... boat. But it's not, Comrade, it's the afterlife, so your being here actually means that it's more likely to be correct.

SPAM!

[sharpememory.livejournal.com]

[Barron's taking glass number three slowly. Because it's glass number three, and he's on a very strange boat.]

Yeah, but somehow I don't think me being dead is any more likely. [Sips at his drink.] How can you be sure? Where did you come from?

SPAM!

[buywithme.livejournal.com]

[That's probably better for you. Prefect is still on glass two, but he feels a certain obligation to catch up with you, so away it goes, and he tops himself up as well.]

I don't know, Comrade. You have killed a lot of people, I don't think it's that unlikely for it to have happened to you. [He takes another, long drink of his tequila, before screwing up his face, and pondering the question.] I come from The Factory. It's like... Comrade, if you imagine the largest shopping center you can, and then imagine that it ruled over the entire world, and everyone's life was devoted entirely towards serving and maintaining it? That's what The Factory's like, and that's where I came from.

SPAM!

[sharpememory.livejournal.com]

I've never killed anyone. [This was, unusually for Barron, technically true. He'd never killed anyone with his own hands so much as orchestrated many, many murders. But hey, everyone has to make a living, right?]

I've never heard of any country like that. [Barron took another sip of his drink. Prefect had definitely been seriously worked.] So, do you know who runs this place? The boss-man who we should all be answering to?

SPAM!

[buywithme.livejournal.com]

You arranged people's deaths.

[Prefect corrected himself, then gave a short nod, in response to the comment about the Factory.] I know you haven't, Comrade. No one here has. When I lived there, we were taught that there was nothing outside of the Factory, that it encompassed the entire world. Then I arrived here, and no one had any idea what I was talking about.

[Prefect took another swig of his Tequila, polishing off the glass he'd been drinking.] Technically The Admiral is in charge, but it's hard to say whether he's really paying that much attention, or whether what happens here is ever deliberate. There never seems to be much underlying reason to what he does.