person man, person man, hit on the head with a frying pan

[jacksonian]

WHO: Mark and whoever
WHERE: Everywhere!! But mostly De Chima and Maurtia Falls
WHEN: Throughout November
WHAT: Catch-all for November with stuff. Hit me up!! Please!!! Open prompts below; PM me if you want something that isn't these things.
WARNINGS: Mark's life sucks; I'll edit this header if any particular suckiness comes up.


1. dog dog dog dog dog dog dog; De Chima/Maurtia Falls
[ In De Chima or in Maurtia Falls, you might find a rather strange sight: a small stocky man walking an enormous stocky dog. This is Mark walking his dog Captain, a scarred and warlike pit bull that pulls at the leash and constantly wags his tail. Mark's expression is still a forbidding glower, but Captain's doggy face is open and bright-eyed and happy; there's no one he doesn't want to make friends with.

And Mark, unfortunately, doesn't know good leash technique, and also (in spite of his own roundness) doesn't outweigh his dog by that much. And so when Captain wants to make friends, Mark is dragged along behind him. And that is why, if you're walking around, you might be approached by a dog trailing a very sour-looking little man who's hissing - ]

No, don't - stop - heel -

2. come make $$$$; Maurtia Falls
[ PKE, LLC, up in Maurtia Falls, is beyond luxurious. The office is appointed with a sort of brushed-steel-and-pine classiness, like it's furnished from the expensive part of Ikea; the receptionist out front is attractive and aloof, and people who are waiting get offered mineral water from glass bottles.

There are any number of reasons that you might have ended up here: you might have received an advertisement in the mail, or a random notification on your phone, or you might have seen the advertising that targets imPorts. All of this advertising will have offered help in investing, getting rich, or opening a new business - generous funding to get everyone a little bit wealthier.

Mark, sitting at his desk, smiles a smile that can generously be described as oily when you're shown in. And he purrs - ]

Please, sit down. Tell me about how you'd like to make money.

3. kicking some grass; De Chima
[ Mark doesn't like to practice where he can be seen. Definitely not. So when he's worked up and anxious, he goes out far away from his family, far away from the people who know him, out into the forests of De Chima. On the unlikely off-chance that your character happens to wander by, they'll be treated to a very strange sight: a small fat man vigorously practicing a judo kata, face miserable, before punching a tree. He turns as soon as he hears them, though, eyes flashing with anger as he snarls - ]

What the hell are you doing here? Go away.

4. fuck it; anywhere
[ Mark's eating ice cream. Come have ice cream. ]

Comments

[helpline]

I wouldn't have recommended them if I knew it was such a point of contention for you! You can like something and still acknowledge it's flaws.

[jacksonian]

Okay. And you acknowledged those flaws...when, exactly?

[helpline]

Well I think the 'evil clone' thing's a pretty major flaw.

[jacksonian]

[ A dissatisfied grunt. ]

Whatever. Do you actually know any clones?

[helpline]

Sort of. That planet that I mentioned earlier, Messaline, they had a progenation machine, but that's more offspring than clones. Gangers don't count. Madame Karabraxos...well, you don't want to hear about her.

[ Said seriously and with a hint of sadness in his voice. She killed off her clones like it was nobody's business! Fun times! ]

I suppose the closest thing I can think of is the Sontarans? They're a clone race, sort of potatoey. They're a society built on war, to the point where taking care of the sick is seen as dishonorable. I'm afraid I haven't had much contact with the Sontarans, one particular potato excepted.

[jacksonian]

[ That takes his annoyance down a very small notch. Very small. ]

Well, if you don't have much experience, don't talk about it like you do. It's not like the holovids. Cloning isn't instantaneous. And a clone is their own person. Just because someone's a clone doesn't mean they're going to have the same personality as their progenitor.

[helpline]

I know that much, [ the Doctor can't help but grumble, trying to regain the smallest bit of dignity & seeming like he knows things. ]

[jacksonian]

Well, except that you were talking about clones with fake memories. Which means that you're still assuming that a clone is just someone who can be swapped out for the original. We're not.

[ Then - ]

Why don't I want to hear about Madam Whoever-it-was?

[helpline]

She wasn't particularly decent to her clones.

[jacksonian]

Yeah, I guessed that. What did she do?

[helpline]

[ The Doctor sounds appropriately pissed off as he talks. ]

Her clones staffed the Bank of Karabraxos, one of the most secure banks in the galaxy. When one of them failed at their job or made a mistake, they were fired--usually incinerated.

[jacksonian]

[ Oh. Mark looks down, a numb sort of feeling settling into the pit of his stomach, rippling out to his hands. Distantly, he says: ]

That seems inefficient. Where's the profit in that?

[helpline]

Hell if I know, [ the Doctor tentatively responds. There's a brief pause before he continues, knowing that he honestly has no idea how Mark'll respond to this. Baby steps, Doctor ]

This might not be reassuring. But back home, she's not doing that anymore.

[jacksonian]

[ He's quiet a moment. And then his eyes slide up to meet the Doctor's. ]

Why not?

[helpline]

She's dead. [ just said rather bluntly. There's a pause before he continues. ]

She regretted some of her actions in the end, with regards to another being she was holding hostage. I'm certain she regretted her actions with regards to the clones as well.

[ He's not entirely sure if she regretted her actions with regards to the clones, but right here, right now, lying's the best option. ]

[jacksonian]

[ His look is hard and suspicious as he searches the Doctor's face. He doesn't believe him - or not fully. Because he's never known that to happen. No one has ever just decided that, no, clones are people too, killing them is wrong. But, well...What reason does the Doctor have to lie...? ]

Meaning what? She killed herself?

[helpline]

Meaning she got old and died. [ said...with a little confusion. Meaning what, meaning she's dead, what other meaning is there? ] That's what people do, you know.

[jacksonian]

[ Mark grunts and looks away, displeased. ]

Oh. Great. Yeah. That's great to hear. She lived a nice long life of murder and then died of natural causes, rather than having to pay for what she did. [ Scowling at the wall: ] I'm guessing you just don't have the brain-transplant technology? Since I bet she'd have gone for it if you did.

[helpline]

Did you miss the part where I said she regretted her actions? Cause she did--got me on the case to help sort things out and make it right.

That doesn't erase what she did, of course. But it's a much better ending than some.

[jacksonian]

Yeah?

Did she un-murder her clones?

[helpline]

I'm not forgiving her for that, you know. You can be proud someone acknowledged their mistakes while still disparaging the mistakes in the process.

[jacksonian]

Yeah. I'm sure that's a great fucking comfort to the people she burned.

[ There's a real anger in his face, a fury that lights up his eyes. A slight tremble in his chin that makes his jowls wobble just a little. ]

I wish she'd been burned alive herself. I'd do it myself if I had the chance. You should have done it.

[helpline]

[ The Doctor shook his head, looking over at Mark. ]

I couldn't have done that. I'm not that sort of man.

[ he can't be that sort of man. He's not going to let that happen again. ]

And I'm not sure you're that sort of man either.

[jacksonian]

[ His response is an unsurprisingly hostile: ]

You don't know what sort of man I am. What, don't you think she'd have it coming?

[helpline]

I know what sort of man I'd like you to be, [ the Doctor calmly responds, with a little shrug. ]

And no, I don't think she had it coming. Everything dies but nobody deserves to get murdered.