Bury Me Bury Me [Open]

[Jett Tsar]

Jett couldn't believe what he was seeing.

He'd come to the graveyard to pay his respects to the dead mutants of Freakopolis. Why? Why not. The mutants that died here were mothers and brothers, sisters and fathers, grandparents and children. They were him. They were his friends. They were you. It was obvious that not many came to think on those that were dead. So Jett would instead. He'd do what others couldn't or wouldn't for their own various reasons.

Head down, wild daises in hand, Jett came to the graveyard with a heavy heart and soiled eyes. His hair was combed and his clothes were groomed.

The Graveyard was a mess.

It looked as if someone had turned the place into an excavation site. He couldn't see any bodies, thank God, but he smelled something frightful. His eyes searched for help but his throat was dry.

What was going on?

[Kita]

Kita had heard there was a graveyard in Freakopolis. This was not surprising, as there were mutants that had lived here for the majority of their lives. It only stood to reason that some of them may have expired in this place. It was to this graveyard that she went to now, having recieved detailed directions from a mutant that had family members buried there. In return for the directions, she had promised to place some flowers on the graves of those lost loved ones of the informant.

While she did not much care for the living, Kita did have a great respect for the dead. They were those that had come before, the ones that were the elders. If there was one lesson she had kept from her parents it was to respect ones elders, the people that were of an entirely different generation. Elders were the memories of a culture, the keepers of information and knowledge of the past. That in itself demanded respect. To know the past was to be prepared for the future.

Upon arriving at the cemetary nothing appeared outt of the ordinary at first sight. She found the graves of the informant's relatives exactly where she'd been told, placed the flowers there and murmured a few words of deference to the dead. It wasn't until she began to explore the graveyard further that she noticed a few were freshly dug. Were the keepers working over time to compensate for the many that died because of the disease? Kita doubted this explanation and dismissed it after a few seconds.

There was a horrible smell coming from each of the open graves that led her to believe that they had once each held a corpse. That could only mean that someone - or something - was pilfering the bodies of those long gone. Her most recent meal threatened to reintroduce itself at that moment but she fought back the impulse. Who could do such a thing? More importantly, who would have reason to do such a thing? Her mind flashed back to the raid on the underground compound. The servitor had a similar type of smell, though it was disguised under other aromas. Perhaps whoever was making those machines was the culprit? More investigation would be required.

[Jett Tsar]

Jett looked up as a figure wandered towards him. She noticed the mess as well. Maybe she was just as unhappy? He made his way towards her. The smell was puke-worthy. Jett swallowed the urge down.

"What happened here?" He called out, hoping she would know. He eyed her suspiciously. She wasn't dirty, but hen again some mutants could move stuff with their mind. For all he knew he could be approaching the culprit. And so what? What would Jett do to the woman? Not a damn thing.

[Kita]

"What happened here?"

Another person in the graveyard was not what Kita had been expecting. Who would spend their time wandering about in a graveyard? Besides herself, of course. The majority of humans avoided such places because it reminded them that they would one day end up like the current residents. Once you checked in to a grave you never checked out. The man that called out was coming toward her. How foolish. Hadn't he ever heard that curiosity killed the cat?

For all he knew she was the one that had removed the bodies. Even though she was pretty sure who had, the only interaction with said person was through one of his or her creations and not the real person. That matter would be rectified as soon as possible, for she had a reason to thank the creator of the servitor for its part in the raid. Kita glanced around again at the decimated graves... And a reason to dismantle the retch piece by piece. A glance was spared for the man to let him know his presence was noted but it wasn't long before she turned back toward the empty graves with what could perhaps be construed as sadness on her face. Not that she was even aware of feeling such a thing at the time.

[Jett Tsar]

Jett didn't get too close. Some mutants had personal bubbles the size of a room. He inched along the border of where he thought hers might be, peering at the woman's face. She addressed him, however informally, but resumed her scrutiny of the dirt mounds and ditches. Color crawled up Jett's neck, making him duck his head and turn to look where she was. His hands were plunged into his pockets where they fiddled with lint.

"I can't imagine. To disrupt the dead. Are there no laws against it?" He spoke quietly, seemingly to himself, although he was just loud enough to be heard. That was intentional. "Who am I fooling?" He chuckled mirthlessly. "Laws. Rules. There are none here. No rights. No guidelines. The world had disposed of its trouble makers, cramming them all into one place, hoping they will kill themselves off. We're doing quite a job of it."

Jett paced around the edge of a hole. It was shaped like a grave. The bottom was dark--it was deeper than sit feet--but the lumpy mound at the bottom could have easily been a body. He prayed it was misshapen mud.

[Kita]

Kita eyed one of the graves in particular that promised to yield more clues than the others. This one was one of the recently disturbed and less inspected by scavenging animals hoping for a meal. Impressions in the dirt didn't look like any track a human or animal would leave behind. Again her mind went to Servitor from the raid. There were some familiar features in the prints that could be from it, but others didn't fit. Could there be other versions of that thing?

"You talk a lot."

But that didn't mean there wasn't a point to his words. Freakopolis had truly been correctly named. It was the real world's version of the Island of Misfit Toys.

Her "company" skirted around one of the other recently dug up graves. She went to it and encountered more of the same tracks in the dirt. The difference between the last grave and this one was that there was still something in it. Without thinking twice, Kita jumped down into the hole but regretted it the instant she landed. The boots she wore sunk down into six inches of muck. Good news being that the lump in the middle was a pile of clumped mud that had fallen back into the hole. Bad news being she would need to spend several minutes cleaning the mud from her shoes after this.

After managing to get out of the hole without any help, Kita picked up a sturdy looking stick and sat down on a flat gravestone. While this was a reluctantly chosen location, she wasn't willing to dirty the seat of her pants right now. As she went to work on her boots with the stick, her mind went over the man's words again.

"Part of your words are wrong," she stated, as she finished one shoe and moved to the other. "If you crave rules and guidelines, there are the factions. They operate on their own terms. And while there may be many mutants forced into this place, no matter what the normal humans do, there will always be more." Kita paused in her reflections as she finished off the last shoe. She stood and dropped the stick. "Otherwise, you're correct. There are no rules in Freakopolis, no law. Even so, to disturb the dead should be considered taboo and unforgivable if done."

That was probably the most she'd talked since coming to Freakopolis. It felt odd.

[Jett Tsar]

Jett nodded, agreeing with her comment yet only partly aware of what she had said. His eyes burned. He hated what he was seeing. He hated it, and yet had become accustomed to this sort of calamity. Freakopolis was not so much a camp filled with aliens who could do magic tricks as it was a place where a lot of mentally disturbed people with upsetting ideas on their minds were compiled and set loose on one another. Of course, there was no doubt that most anyone put in their situation would react in ways that would make some question the humanity of others. Mental disturbance was something that was brought on by events. Even the Jews did dastardly things during the time of Hitler's oppression.

Two eyes turned to oranges as the woman hopped into the grave. Jett imagined a zombie arm reaching out of the ground and pulling her down whole to Hades. Wouldn't even need a toothpick afterward. He had half a mind to call out to her--she was taking it a bit far--but she straightened her act on her own time and proceeded to crawl out of the ditch. Phwew.

This woman was half as entertaining to watch as was looking at the graves. Not that the graves were entertaining, mind you, but they were an interesting study. She was too. Jett glanced from each target, wondering to which he should devote the better half of his attention. When she spoke she won.

He was quick to take the bait.

"Factions are governed by self-made principles designed to benefit their own objectives. Each faction's independence renders it's so called 'laws' unprofessional, unauthorized, and inapplicable to those outside of their ruling. To even call them laws is blasphemy. They're more so...restrictions. Attempts to gain control over the body of the faction." Jett shook his head, earnest in the revelations of his thoughts. "True laws for the people are made by the people. They apply to everyone within the jurisdiction, not just a select few. If Freakopolis has no official laws then it has no laws--none for mutants in or outside of factions."

He focused on the girl and what she was doing and was immediately taken aback at how she had plopped down onto a tablet as if were a simple part of nature. It made him wonder what she was actually doing in the graveyard. She couldn't be respecting the dead, that was for sure.

Jett frowned and shook his head to clear his suspicions, placing his focus on her words once again.

"It should be." He agreed. "But that's like saying kids should be allowed life. Mutants should be allowed freedom. However much those who are a part of the should--you and me--however much we feel or think or fight for what should be...there's really nothing we can do, is there?" Jett shook his head again and made himself comfortable in the mud by sitting. Not that he consciously planned or wanted to have a bonding time talking in a vandalized graveyard. His mind was simply elsewhere; he wasn't fully aware of his dirtied clothes or vacant expression.

[Kita]

"Factions are governed by self-made principles designed to benefit their own objectives. Each faction's independence renders it's so called 'laws' unprofessional, unauthorized, and inapplicable to those outside of their ruling. To even call them laws is blasphemy. They're more so...restrictions. Attempts to gain control over the body of the faction. True laws for the people are made by the people. They apply to everyone within the jurisdiction, not just a select few. If Freakopolis has no official laws then it has no laws--none for mutants in or outside of factions."


Kita listened to the man's words with a raised brow. This one certainly was...strange. What he had just described as "blasphemy" could practically apply to every government in the world. All nations cherished their sovereignty, their independence. Each government in those nations made 'laws' that were made further their own objectives on the world wide scale and domestically. What were laws anywhere but restrictions on the populace to control their actions? Don't steal, rape, murder or let your dog urinate on the fire hydrant. All were restrictions, all were laws.

"What are laws but restrictions put down by a government to control the actions of the people within its borders? The factions are little different in trying to control members in a similar way." Kita made a dismissive gesture and wandered to another grave. "Besides, the factions are some of the only form of order this place has... Well, at least as far as the Dreamers are concerned. You don't see the Protectors or Rebellion reigning in their members, do you?" She wasn't about to mention that was why she liked those two factions better. This guy was suspicious enough as it was, with the way he was eyeing her movements. The possibility of blinding him went through her mind but it was quickly forgotten.

She left him there sitting in the dirt and didn't care if he followed, as she went to yet another grave; the last one yielded nothing. Kita paused when she saw what this most recent hole contained. A body that was so severely decomposed it could barely be discerned from the dirt around it was scattered about the bottom of the hole, almost like a macabre jigsaw puzzle. It had obviously not met the criteria of whoever had tried to dig it up and been left to finish decomposing while exposed to the air. The smell was horrible and it was all she could do not to vomit on the thing. That would've been a great disturbance to any one, dead or no.

[Jett Tsar]

"Yes, but..." Jett began, only to ignored as the woman continued to talk. Appropriately so. Trying to interrupt others was a rude practice. His mother would be chiding him. He doubted this woman was even aware.

She seemed to look as if she knew what her eyes were searching for. Jett wished he could be as confident in his search. Unlike her--or how she seemed--he had no idea what was going on or what he should be keeping an eye out for. Like a babe. And yet it wasn't aggravating. Just intriguing to watch someone who he believed did.

"There's a bigger a difference." Jett said, lowering his voice. "Most governments make laws to unite the people. These factions and their varying rules separate us. We should be uniting under one cause--our cells--and yet we're as opposed to each other as...as...really opposed things." Jett looked up at the sky, really for no reason, and was dismayed to find the woman gone when his eyes returned.

She wasn't far, he discovered after turning his head, and he quickly and effortlessly closed the gap between them. Jett continued to speak as he wandered behind her.

"I don't. But neither do I sit there observing them. I don't make it my business not to...I just don't happen to run into any Protectors or Rebellion members. It's best that way," he sighed and peered around her muttering, "I suppose."

And then Jett saw the body. His reflexes weren't as honed as hers. He doubled over and puked, turning as he did so as not to accidentally splash on the girl. Maybe he failed. Either way, it quickly became the last thing on his mind as his burning throat heaved what his turning stomach shoved up his esophagus--discolored water.

[Kita]

Only part of his return argument was heard as her mind was on other things. The left overs of the body in the hole had her attention. The smell of rot still threatened to overwhelm her. When it came to her companion of the moment, the opposite was true. Kita darted out of his way when the realization struck that he was about to blow. A few drops of the discolored water made their way to land on the lower parts of her pants. Sickening, really.

"Are you finished now?" she asked when it seemed he had. "You're not very strong nerved, are you?" The smell had to be gotten rid of, meaning the "body" had to be covered over again. That meant shoveling and that meant getting dirty when she hadn't planned on it. Bah.

There was a large pile of earth along the side of the grave from whoever had dug it up first. All they had to do was put it back in to save themselves other episodes as the one the guy just had. Kita poked in a large clump with the toe of her shoe.

"Shall we? I believe I've learned what I came here to know."

[Jett Tsar]

Jett's face would have been pink if it could manage; however, vomiting had claimed his skin's color and turned the boy pale. His eyes suddenly looked sunken in from lack of sleep. It was true, his nights had become long. The mutants of Freakopolis were dreamy and welcoming for the man, but the place itself was beginning to become his nightmare. Yet Jett didn't want to leave. He wanted to get over it and live here. Forever.

Nodding numbly, he stumbled forward onto his hands and knees. Getting his clothes dirty wasn't on his current list of priorities. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glanced at Kita to see if she had seen, and then began to push the mud into the hole. Jett closed his eyes, held his breath, and sang a song in his head. Anything to keep from barfing again.

[Kita]

The prospect of getting dirty was not appealing to Kita in the slightest. And doing so with another person within sight was utterly appalling. But still... The corpse in the hole wasn't going to rebury itself. She lowered herself to her knees on the opposite wall of the man and began shoving mounds of earth into the grave.

Kita began murmuring a prayer in her native tongue under her breath as she worked. She couldn't help it. Something had to be said to placate the spirit of the dead person for their rest being disturbed. Her parents were traditionalists and far from Christian. They believed in the old religion of her people. So did she, and as a consequence Kita did not know any of the Christian rites for the dead. Her own version would have to do.

The hole was gradually filling up and the smell of rotting meat was beginning to lessen somewhat. Kita didn't speak to the man again until they were finished.

"What's your name?"

He had helped restore one of the dead to peace, the least could do was give her name in exchange for his.

[Jett Tsar]

Jett leaned back on his heels uncomfortably when the dirt was restored and there was no hole to speak of. The taint from the corpse lingered in his nostrils, keeping him nice and nauseated. The woman across the way from him appeared recuperated, though she'd never been ailed that he saw in the first place. Jett was envious of those with strong stomachs. Even in his home village he'd been considered a pansy and unmanly for reacting to the slightest show of tampered flesh. Was a boy who'd spent most of his childhood in his bed to be blamed?

"My name is Jett." He told her slowly, the words obviously a handful for the disoriented man. He spared her his mutant name, a title he gave himself as a joke in the past. It had stuck, however, and although no one he knew used it to refer to him it still held a sensitive spot in his mind.

Jett lifted his eyebrows, interested in learning hers.

[Kita]

"My name is Jett."

"Jet? As in the gemstone?"

Kita had never heard of someone having such a name, but who was she to question the naming prowess of his parents? The name was interesting and had at least a little bit of life to it. For all she knew he spelled it differently than the gemstone itself, but it would be up to him to tell her differently. Either way she thought it would be neat to have been named after the stone that gave rise to the phrase jet-black.

"You may call me Kita."

'Kita' wasn't her real name, of course, but a nickname given to her by some former coworkers. She had gotten used to be being called nothing but it for the past few years that it was now what she usually introduced herself as. No one in Freakopolis knew her actual name, as far as she knew. And for now that was how she wanted to keep it.

[Jett Tsar]

Jett shrugged uncomfortably. He'd never heard of a gemstone that had been named after him--or that he'd been named after. She seemed interested so he would tell her,

"I'm pretty sure my mother named in after the plane that crashed near our village a short while before I was born. According to information found inside, it was a jet." He glanced sideways, nervously, wondering if he'd said too much. The situation surrounding that incident wasn't supposed to be repeated among his people. There was something secret about everything in his village, he realized, and unfortunately he had always been on the ignorant side.

She gave him her name, and he couldn't help but think of a dog, an Akita, which was quite similar to Huskies.

Jett cleared his throat and looked down at his hands which hung uselessly from where his elbows perched on his knees. The situation had changed from relatively unfriendly to urgent to friendly to awkward. They were in the awkward part now, at least he was.