Mini-Grand 5101 [Round 3: Xilyon Odyssey]

Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

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The sickening thud as Bartleby collided with the lower deck attracted the attention of nearby passengers, who clustered around the dying Flux. Though it was kind of obvious from his injuries that he was already dead, or at least past the point where medical attention would help, a couple of the passengers ran off to find a doctor. His regeneration was swift; the only noticeable change being that his feet were replaced with hooves, though nobody really noticed as they were kind of focused on the blood pouring from his head, and also the fact that he was not wearing any pants. As he climbed to his feet the passengers came to the conclusion that he had had a miraculous escape, and began to insist he sits back down until a doctor can see to him.

“No, no, I’m fine.” Bartleby replied.

“I insist,” insisted one particularly insistent passenger. She bade him to sit down again. “You could have died.”

“I did die.” He said. “Got to be, what, my fourth time today? Ouch.” The passenger in question looked rather concerned at this development.

“I think you might have a concussion.” She replied.

“What?” He asked. “Why?”

“Well you obviously can’t have died.” She said, pointing out the obvious.

“Why not?” Bartleby asked, quite baffled by the woman’s insistence.

“Well… you would be dead.” She explained.

“I was dead.” He insisted.

“People don’t come back from being dead.” She looked concerned again. “Please just sit down.” Bartleby whirled around.

“Pardon?” He asked. “People always come back from the dead!” The unfortunate passenger in question backed away from him. “People always come back from the dead right?” He asked again, a little manically. The woman backed up further, growing nervous.

“…Yes.” She said placatingly. “Yes they always come back from the dead.” There was a hesitation before she shouted “Don’t kill me!” and ran.

“What is it with you people?” Bartleby asked. “I wasn’t going to kill you!” He suddenly became aware of the pistol in his hand. He had stuffed it into his jacket previously having not wanted the soon to regenerate Eugene to get his hands back on it. He had no idea when he had started waving it around, he was so confused. The crowd had thinned, and the only people who remained were those who were too afraid to run. He sighed; whatever was going on he decided to just go with it. “Give me your pants!” He shouted, aiming at the nearest guy approximately his size. He did so and fled. Bartleby was promptly alone again. Slipping the handgun into the waistband of his new pants he turned and looked out to the ocean. Somehow until now he had not noticed the sunset; the single sun setting on the horizon. He ran to the bow of the ship and stood staring out at what he now realised was an alien landscape. This kind of explained some things. He suddenly felt very homesick.