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| Welcome To The Night You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality. This game uses the cursed and immortal vampiric condition as a backdrop to explore themes of morality, depravity, the human condition, salvation, and personal horror. We are a writing and roleplaying community dedicated to telling complex and engaging stories. Your fate is your own. Mingle among the ivory-tower elite in the Camarilla, join the fight of the discontented and chaotic Anarch rabble, or set out independently and attempt to survive in London's nighttime underworld. Anything is possible in our World of Darkness. Create Your Account! If you're already a member, please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
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| Accommodation and food provided...; Attn: Ilya (NSFW) (Completed) | |||||
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| Topic Started: Saturday, 10. January 2015, 08:05 (2,639 Views) | |||||
| Rui | Saturday, 10. January 2015, 08:05 Post #1 | ||||
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Yuri's machine no. 3
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Do you like people? Do you like girls? Are you good at talking to people and making them do what you want? Russian H&R Company is looking for a strong Workshop Leader to lead the training sessions for new personnel. The ideal candidate would have a strong command of English Language, interpersonal skills, knowledge of human psychology and anatomy. We are looking for a team player who is highly organized and who doesn't mind working long hours until the desired results are achieved. The position may involve some PA tasks too, but it's all negotiable. Traditionally, all of our Workshop Leaders have always been male, but we are open to hiring a female one if she fits the profile. High starting salary. Great benefits. Accommodation and food provided by the company. Call now! XXXX-XXXX-XXX - Yuri. Rui read the add another time, with droopy, watering eyes and his shoulders sagged. He blew his nose, and took a sip of his water. He was all wrong for this job... but that line: Accommodation and food provided by the company. The lawyer had said a week, but the boy only had enough money for one more night at the hotel. He'd never make it until the profit from the sale of his ancestral house came through; and he couldn't go to his father's family. Anything but that. Even the creepy decor of this room was better. He blew his nose again. It was starting to be irritated from the constant rubbing of the tissues, but he didn't want to use the soft handkerchief that his late mother had made for him. The boy sneezed a few times, and blew his nose yet again. He should go and see a doctor before it got worse; and, from what he'd read on some sites the night before, he'd need shots for his trip. It was scary what diseases you could catch down there... yellow fever... The hell, that still existed?! He looked down, in the right lower corner of his laptop's screen: his plane had already taken off. Rui had decided to wait for the money, just to be sure. He didn't want to arrive in Brazil without a penny to his name, live in the streets, have some dog bite him and catch some dreadful disease that he'd thought to have been eradicated in the middle ages... The stories that he'd read about that... He could call that Yuri and, if picked, do the job for a week. At least he'd have a place to live until his money came in. And he was organized... wouldn't mind working long hours. And if they didn't want to pay at the end of the week, who cared? By then, he'd have his money. Yuri... Sounded like a nice name. That very night, Rui was on the A10, driving North. He'd googled for directions to the location that Yuri had given him. It was pretty straightforward to the Whitewebbs golf club. Why the guy wanted to meet for business, at ten at night, in the middle of a golf course, he had no idea. He didn't play golf, but assumed that it was a businessmen thing. Rich guys with nothing else to do at night, hitting balls for the hell of it. He'd probably be drunk, Rui thought, before suddenly sneezing in a handful of tissues. He put the heat up; he was freezing, unable to get warm despite his winter clothes. He'd thrown out the only formal outfit he'd had back at the house, before putting it up for sale - the cheap suit that he'd worn to his mother's funerals, months ago. He didn't figure he'd need that in Brazil, so he'd packed light: jeans, shorts, t-shirts, running shoes, his letters, laptop, a few games. The rest had gone in the garbage, with everything else. At least he looked clean. An hour later, noticing a gate ahead, Rui slowed down and turned a bit further, in a near empty parking lot. The huge white mansion was, as he'd expected, for the rich. There were lights; probably a Country Club or something like that. But everything else was plunged in darkness. Grabbing another handful of tissue from his box (one that he'd stolen from the hotel), he let himself out, made his way to the side of the mansion, and began to walk in the cold, following the sings that pointed towards the courses - which brought him back to the gate that he'd seen earlier. Moving closer, he tried to open it, but it was locked... "Excuse me, Sir? Can I help you?" someone asked in his back, making him start. Rui turned to the man, who was in fact a guard, holding a large walkie-talkie in one hand, and keeping his other hand near his belt. "Are you a member here?" he added, pulling out a flashlight with his free hand, switching it on and bringing it up to the boy's face. Rui lowered his head, his hair falling and hiding the greater part of his face. "I have a meeting," he said, in a very low voice, as the guard came closer, examining him. "That must be in the Club House, Sir," the guard said, not wanting to take the chance of insulting the whelp, and have him turn out to be some big shot's son. "I'll have to ask you to move along, please," he added, pointing towards the Mansion with his walkie-talkie. The tall, slim boy nodded and moved away, looking back a few times, as he did, to get a better look at the fence. In the parking lot, he began to make his way back to his car, annoyed that he'd driven all of that for nothing, but even more depressed about not being able to make the meeting. The guy had been clear. He didn't want to meet in the Club House, he wanted Rui to go see him on the green, hole 8. He looked at his watch, turning his wrist towards a lamppost to get a good look. 9:35. Shit. What to do... Should he fail to get this job, he'd be sleeping in his car for the week to come. As another attack of sneezes came on, he noticed a nice, shiny black car. After blowing his nose, he shoved the tissues in his pocket, in a ball; cautiously, looking around to make sure that no one was watching, he moved to the side of the parking lot - closer to the gate, but near the trees -, and crouched to try and find some rocks. But there weren't any. The grass was perfectly cut, and ...wait. He took a few steps and grinned as his hand closed around a golf ball. Turning, he aimed, and threw it at the car... setting off the alarm the moment that it made impact. Quickly, he hid behind a tree, watched as the guard ran from his post, and made for the fence, following the tree line, in the darkness. His heart was beating hard, and he felt that he'd get caught for sure. He'd never done anything like that in his life, but was tall and strong enough to make it over the fence without too much problem. Only, making it over the fence was the easy part, he realized after having run a while on the green. Where the hell was hole 8?! He'd thought it was to his left, but everything was dark, and he had no idea where he was going, despite the full moon. Shit. He sneezed again, his eyes tearing up from his cold, brought his hood up and started running again, through the slight fog, vaguely in the right direction, he hoped... When, at last, he noticed some light in the distance. Wiping his eyes, he pulled the collar from his coat closer around his throat and ran some more... until he was some fifteen feet from the man. His lungs were burning by now, and he was heaving, catching his breath as he observed the scene before him. It felt unreal. A folding table and two chairs in the middle of nowhere... Who was this guy? He looked normal enough from the back; in a suit, holding a golf club... trying to hit a ball, it seemed. He was huge though... taller than him. As he drew near, Rui noticed the classy briefcase on the table, next to the tablet and the portable floodlight, the latter angled to cast its light on the ball, and thought: rich. Now that he wasn't moving anymore, the young man was starting to shiver from the cold... Standing only a few feet form the table, the man being on the other side of it, Rui pulled down his hood, and pushed his hair to the sides to try and look presentable, hoping that he wasn't late. "Excuse me... Yuri?" he asked meekly, in that one's back, still a bit short for breath, as he took another step closer to the table. His tone of voice was soft and warm, a trait from his mother's side; but it had the British accent to it, identifying him as an Englishman. Edited by Rui, Wednesday, 29. April 2015, 01:50.
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Name is pronounced: ROO-EE. English #8F476B![]() Avatar: http://sigrotor.com/rotas/1448 | |||||
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Tuesday, 13. January 2015, 04:43 Post #2 | ||||
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Claiming Tsar
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EARLIER THAT NIGHT - SKYPE CONVERSATION Ilya talks via Skype with his sister Valera. VALERA: Oh no, you can't. ILYA: If I say I can, that means I can. VALERA: Let me get this straight... ILYA: No need. I can do whatever I want. That's what I do. VALERA: No, wait. Let's get back to the basics. ILYA: Why? I already told you. I can do it. VALERA: And I think you are full of shit. Come on. Humour me. ILYA: Alright. VALERA: You hate humans. ILYA: False. I don't hate them. I just think they are... things. VALERA: Wow... Just... Wow. ILYA: Whay? What's the problem? We are highly evolved and sophisticated creatures, living in a world that is filled with those... things. They talk, they feel, they even pretend to think... but they are way beneath what I would consider... VALERA: Human? ILYA: Not funny. What I'm trying to say, is that we have something they don't have. Something that makes any interaction with them that implies treating them as something other than tools... ridiculous. We have soul. VALERA: Seriously? You just broke the box of contradictions. There are no more contradictions for you. It's over. One more, and the world will crack open. Soul? So we, the creatures that can't come out at night, and that must feed on... well, you know what... We, who are more fitting of the label 'Monster' than anything else in this world... we are the ones that have a soul? Please, don't be ridiculous! ILYA: It is just a word, damn it! We can be labelled as 'Monsters' because they created that label, and they created it because they could not, for their lives, understand what we are, and how we think. VALERA: You seem to believe that all of us believe the same things you believe. ILYA: Why not? It's logical. VALERA: It is not. It's madness. Humans are humans, and we are monsters, creatures taken from the pages of a book. That is logical. ILYA: If you say so... VALERA: Back to the point. You say humans have no soul, and that they are to be treated like objects. ILYA: Tools. VALERA: Okay. Like tools. Tools are objects. Stop correcting me. Nobody likes a know it all. You admit to all of that and, yet, you say you can force yourself to establish a relationship based on empathy, at least partially, with a living human being. ILYA: I hate the semantics of all that you just said but, in a nutshell... yes. VALERA: That is bullshit. You can't do that. You are too far gone for that. ILYA: It would not be sincere. Just a mind game. I can force it upon my own mind and, as we are such majestic creatures, return to my original self unscathed. VALERA: Oh Icarus... I want to see you burn. The conversation continues. Fade out. EARLIER THAT NIGHT - EMAIL FROM ILYA TO VALERA AND MAXIM FROM: I. S. TO: V. S.; M. S. RE: Got lucky It seems destiny conspires in my favor. As soon as I made my little bet with you, I received a phone call from one of those things you insist on calling "human beings". This one, who said his name was Rui, found my ad in the newspaper. He is looking for a job. My new personal tool. My chance to prove you wrong. I will establish an emotion based connection with this tool, and I will prove that I can pretend to be "human" as well as you, Val. I was checking out "human" activities in the area, and I found this golf course. I'll meet him there. What can be better to bond with one of his kind, that some healthy sports? See? I can play this game to perfection. I can fit in society like a glove. Love you, I.S. PS: I'm dragging Maxim into this to have a neutral witness of my victory. He'll be monitoring my meeting with this Rui via webcam. WHITEWEBBS GOLF CLUB Ilya was trying. Attempting to hit a ball with an iron stick was not very entertaining. He had read the guides, and watched the videos on Youtube, but he still couldn't make any sense of this game. The grass was destroyed around the insulting white ball, and the field ahead of him was full of lost balls. However, it was so dark out there, it was impossible to see them. Ilya tried pointlessly to hit another ball. Fail. Another chunk of grass came out of the floor, flying a few meters in front of him. He could not find that sport entertaining in any possible way. Maybe it was all because he was playing alone. The footsteps behind him were soft and delicate. He barely turned his head around a few angles, and saw the flesh machine standing there, waiting for a reply. Rui was there. At last. Before turning around to greet his new pet project, Ilya reminded himself of doing his best to appear human, and to inspire trust in that man. He made an effort to move his chest, filling his dead lungs with much more air than what he used to do, and exhaling it afterwards in an unproductive way. He tried to make some blood flow to his hands and face, but his circulatory system was just too unaccustomed to that sort of exercise. He finally made a very strange contraction with the lower side of his face, trying to make the sides of his mouth touch his eyes. He smiled. It was not a pretty smile. It was not reassuring, or comforting. If any, it was quite creepy and forced. He felt like a charming seducer. He turned around. He approached the young man, and shook his hand with mechanical enthusiasm. His upsetting excuse for a smile remained in his face, in a horrible exercise of futility and persistence. "You must be Rui, yes? I am Yuri, people call me Khoza. Please, come here and sit. You like golf? I am trying to learn, but I'm no good at it." He was making an incredible effort to avoid his usual monotone droning tone, but it only made him sound more and more Russian. "Tell me, what experience do you have in working with people? We work with people all the time, and we need people who can work with people. Sales people. For people. And girls... as people too. Tell me." All of that effort was exhausting. The worst thing was the lack of expressive hints of this mortal. Ilya was trying to read his reactions, but there was no way of understanding if he was happy, sad, worried, or confident. Not a clue. With the corner of his eye, he could see the tablet, where Maxim was writing furious lines in Russian in the open chat window. Compliments, surely. Edited by Tsar Ilya the First, Tuesday, 13. January 2015, 04:50.
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |||||
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| Rui | Tuesday, 13. January 2015, 17:46 Post #3 | ||||
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Yuri's machine no. 3
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When the man turned and approached him, Rui took another hesitant step forward and, keeping his head down timidly, offered his hand in return. His was cold, but the other man's was colder... in an peculiar way. In that same way that his mother's hand had felt, when Rui had touched it, at the funeral home... That was odd. And in what luminosity the floodlight offered, in the middle of this vast bed of grassland bordered by tall trees, amidst this strange setting resting on a carpet of fog, Rui gazed up at his prospective employer and froze for a moment, and stared.... and shivered, what the young man's eyes having fallen upon only serving to confuse him more. The skin was so pale... and the traits... abnormally stretched - as if the man was suffering... or not quite sane. Actually it was reminiscent of the Terminator, when the machine was trying to learn how to be human... It had been hilarious in the movie; but here, tonight, it was disturbing... and frightening. As - just like in the movie -, the man was much larger than Rui. And they happened to be in the middle of nowhere. Alone. And those eyes... Shit. "You must be Rui, yes? I am Yuri, people call me Khoza. Please, come here and sit. You like golf? I am trying to learn, but I'm no good at it." His tone of voice was odd too; though this could be explained, in part, by the fact that he was clearly Russian, or from some other connected country. The other part, Rui tried not to think about. Because if he put everything together, he might just start running in the other direction - and he needed that post. Maybe the guy was just weird... It took him some time to get a hold of himself, but he finally gave a slight nod. "Yes, I am Rui. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Khoza," he replied, in his quiet voice, and moved to sit at the table... That table in the middle of nowhere... On a golf course... At ten o'clock at night. To the question, he gave a small shake of his head. "I've never played, no," he said, lowering his head again, his eyes falling on the tablet. He didn't look long enough to read, nor could he really see much from the angle at which he was sitting; but he did notice some incoming text... And as his eyes were lowered, the young man could now see the destroyed grass around the untouched ball, which rested on whatever you called that small wooden thing... Rui had no idea, but concentrating on that helped a bit with the anxiety of the situation. "Tell me, what experience do you have in working with people? We work with people all the time, and we need people who can work with people. Sales people. For people. And girls... as people too. Tell me." And girls... as people too? Bringing his eyes back on Mr. Khoza, apart form his usual timidity, Rui would appear calm, if a bit hesitant. In truth, he was confused as hell, and hoped that it didn't show too much. Just like in one of the old 'House' movies, or the 'Twilight Zone Series', that he used to watch with his mother, he almost expected two armies from world war one, to run up the hills, from different directions, and start shooting at one another, while he'd be dragged in some trenches, that guy going on about 'people' this, and 'people that... "I..." He suddenly turned his head away, interrupted by a fit of sneezing, and pulled his tissues from his pocket to blow his nose. It was all clear, but still annoying... and embarrassing. "I'm sorry," he merely offered, with a bit of a blocked nose, before replying to the question. "I have experience with people. I was in charge of my family's small hotel for five years," he began to explain, trying not to look the man in the eyes. It was easier. "I hired the staff, took care of the clients, ordered the supplies and did the books," he went on; a gross exaggeration, as it had only been a bed-and-breakfast and, at the height of the season, had only needed two employees - but he needed credentials. Rui shoved his hands in his coat pockets, with the tissues, deciding against pulling his hood up, despite the urge to do so, as he shivered on his chair. Why did he even bother trying to look qualified, when they were both going to die there, from the cold? he reflected, again looking up at the man, the idea of that one being unwell coming to mind... "Mr. Khoza. Excuse me for asking. But are you alright?" he inquired politely, with some concern, his shyness temporarily conquered by a growing need for self-preservation. "You must be freezing," he added gently, his eyes considering the nice suit that the man was wearing... He didn't even have a coat on... No wonder he felt dead. Edited by Rui, Tuesday, 13. January 2015, 17:50.
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Name is pronounced: ROO-EE. English #8F476B![]() Avatar: http://sigrotor.com/rotas/1448 | |||||
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Saturday, 17. January 2015, 16:41 Post #4 | ||||
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Claiming Tsar
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The target was obviously at ease with him. His efforts were paying off, and the fruits of his work should be obvious by now to his brother. This would shut Valera's mouth for a long time. The fact that this talking robot was not equipped for playing golf made the situation even better for Ilya; he had the edge over the machine, as he already had practiced the sport for some minutes. That meant that his position was automatically higher, if they were to consider that they were equal in any imaginable way. The tool sneezed, he made a squeaky sound, denouncing some inherent construction failure. According to Ilya's experience, he was to be perceived as understanding in that situation; pointing out how that failure could severely hinder his productivity was perceived as lack of empathy. His smile widened a bit too much, showing some teeth. While trying to portray a beatific, compassionate image, Ilya managed to look even more demonic. He also knew that his vitae could make all of those design failures go away. The references and experience of the machine were good enough; he was programmed with the tools to reprogram himself other machines. What Ilya considered a 'Master Machine'. He believed that any machine could be programmed to become that, but that some were built in a way that made that easier. He hoped he was acquiring one with those attributes. He felt the need to reinforce the machine's self confidence functions, to boost the social proximity between them. "Good qualifications, yes. Those things are part of the job. All of them. Good job." He knew it was a huge success; machines craved for positive reinforcement all the time. It was printed in their circuits, and hard coded in their souls. No matter the efforts one made to erase any trace of their personality, that crave never waned off. And Ilya was playing it like a well tuned violin. The machine worrying about his well being was the most promising sign of the interview, so far. In his experience, Ilya had realized that those robots developed that caring attribute as they consumed vitae, as a side effect of the blood bonding process. Finding that nurturing aspect in the coding of this creature, lying there by default, was a very grateful surprise. "Cold? You are... Right! I am cold! It is not too cold, too. Russia is colder. Are you cold now? We can move, if this is too cold. Do you like... girls, Rui?" His mind made the association between cold and heat and, in an effort to think like one of these machines, he just formulated the most logical connexion that was relevant to the interview at hand. He was convinced that robots made those sorts of associations all the time, and that it made him feel more... alive. |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |||||
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| Rui | Saturday, 17. January 2015, 23:19 Post #5 | ||||
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Yuri's machine no. 3
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When Rui's eyes fell on the result of his fit of sneezing, he blinked involuntarily, some of his anxiety filtering through as he took in the smile.... And slowly he began to understand, and a flood of relief washed over him. The man was a genius. He didn't know how to be social, because most of the time, he had his head in books, and mathematical calculations or something like that, he told himself. It was the smile that did it. Sheldon's smile. Which meant that he'd never be able to keep that job, even if he'd wanted to; he was way out of that guy's league. So it was a good thing that he'd be leaving at the end of the week. Adjusting his mindset, Rui figured that the poor guy must be very uncomfortable right about now. "Good qualifications, yes. Those things are part of the job. All of them. Good job." "Thank you, Mr. Khoza," the young man said, with some gratitude in his voice, thinking that he might just have a place to stay for the week after all. If they survived the night. "Cold? You are... Right! I am cold! It is not too cold, too. Russia is colder. Are you cold now? We can move, if this is too cold. Do you like... girls, Rui?" Rui actually smiled then; a slight, timid, indulgent smile. And despite the fact that he was really freezing, he was no more apprehensive of the man's strange behaviour, understanding it as social ineptitude. He probably played Star Wars Tri-Dimensional Chess, and that's why he kept talking about girls like that. He probably didn't date, as many other brilliant nerds. Or maybe it was that he was gay and trying to cover that up by going on, like that, about girls... And he probably slept in a basement, with his computers. Maybe he was an ex-Soviet nuclear scientist... though he'd asked for someone with skills in human psychology and anatomy... A doctor then... He wanted him to work in a lab. And girls... what could the girls have to do with it? It could be anything... maybe a clinic of some kind. "It's cold, but I'm fine... thank you," he said to try and put the other one as ease. He didn't even want to know how bad Russia was, if it was worse than this; but if Yuri Khoza could take it, so could he... hopefully. Though he already missed Brazil... "And yes, I do like girls... some of them," he replied, thinking that he really should be open with him. The man seemed to need it. "And guys too... some of them," he added, his voice a bit lower as he averted his eyes; he wanted to make him feel better about his possibly being gay, but he didn't want his potential employer to think that he was hitting on him... Though Rui had to admit that he was good looking... in a very Russian, awkward nerdy scientist kind of way. And, going with his conclusion, as to the man's probable nature, and of the apparent field of work that he'd be brought into, he tried to think of what he could say to help him relax a bit. Odd, as usually, it was him who was the awkward one... "I'm comfortable with girls, Mr. Khoza... I cared for my mother for many years," he admitted, his tone hesitant, as this was clearly something very personal. "She was not well... in her mind," he murmured, without adding anything else on that. Rui hoped that sharing may help in making Mr. Khoza feel better; but more than anything, he hoped that the inhumanly enduring Russian would decide to continue this indoors. |
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Name is pronounced: ROO-EE. English #8F476B![]() Avatar: http://sigrotor.com/rotas/1448 | |||||
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Tuesday, 27. January 2015, 02:21 Post #6 | ||||
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Claiming Tsar
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All working smooth. The machine was interacting using its empathy and its ability to connect, and was integrating Ilya's efforts into his own. It was a glorious triumph of his great social skills. He was able to mingle with gods and rodents, with mice and men. The machine mistook his warname for a surname, but that sort of factual error was insignificant, and easy to sort out. Then he started sharing pieces of information about himself, data that was never requested of him, but that served to draw a broader picture on the subject at hand. Not entirely desirable, but the underlying intention was good. Time for him to go for the sales pitch. Maxim was going to be amazed. "Perfect. Good. Now, let me tell you what is the position, yes? And what is the company. We make lots of money. It is important that you know what we do." Something strange happened. The voice of Ilya suddenly changed in texture and color. The strong Russian accent disappeared altogether, and his inflexions and mannerisms became suddenly warm and humane. He started speaking like a real businessman explaining his business to an investor, or to a future associate. Still, there was something incredibly forced about that sudden expressiveness. "Rabynya Solutions, as we like to call ourselves sometimes, is a company specialized in providing indispensable services for our clients. Our product is nothing less than people, actually. We are a high end human resources niche company, focused on personal fulfilment and dynastic solutions. We import our experts from South Russia, and train them here to adapt to the local customs and to be able to accomplish any task required of them. Then, we find a customer who is interested in the services of one of those experts, and we transfer the expert to the client. Simple. Our services, though, don't come in cheaply, but we can boast of an impeccable track record, and of more than five years leading the market. Before funding this family business, I worked on this same sector for a decade, becoming one of the world's top experts in this matter. Those references speak for themselves; we have branches in Berlin and Los Angeles, and we provide with high end solutions for the rich and powerful anywhere in the world. What we need here is somebody ready to take on the responsibility of leading the training sessions, assessing one on one the capabilities, fortes, and problems of each and every one of our experts, and to polish them from diamonds in the rough to shinning examples of top notch quality. Our volume of work is limited, as we operate with only ten experts at a time. The deadline for the full training process is between two and three months; for logistic reasons, we need to rotate the in house experts every four months. Experts who have been successfully processed will lend their services online until they find a suitable customer to take them under their wing. You will be asked to take part on those online sessions as an associate expert. I must warn you: that whole aspect of the job, as much as the training, can be literally draining. On top of that, you are expected to have PA responsibilities, assisting me on all sorts of matters. A key aspect of that side of the job is to accept the instructions provided without asking questions; I am a rather busy man, and explaining the reasoning behind my actions is a costly waste of time. In order to give you the chance to perform both duties efficiently, you will be provided with a small residential area in our main offices, where the experts, the other employees, and myself, also live. The accommodation includes food and all the expected commodities, although you will be expected to take care of menial tasks such as cooking, and cleaning, every once in a while. Back to Rabynya Solutions, I cannot stress enough the importance of a job well done in this area. Two of our top experts will make sure you become familiar with all of our techniques and protocols, and that you fully understand the extent of your job. As I've already mentioned, the tasks that will be required of you will be quite draining. That is why you will be put on a very strict diet, with our special vitamin supplements, to make sure you can deal with the job related stress and still enjoy your remaining free time. We are, after all, a people oriented business, and we take care of our people. Your initial salary will be 45000GBP per annum, with potential bonuses if you manage to achieve results of excellence, or if you take care of the commercial side of things and create new clients. Any questions?" Like a puppet whose strings have been cut, Ilya stopped moving, and remained still, piercing Rui's soul with his dead eyes. |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |||||
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| Rui | Thursday, 29. January 2015, 00:34 Post #7 | ||||
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Yuri's machine no. 3
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"Perfect. Good. Now, let me tell you what is the position, yes? And what is the company. We make lots of money. It is important that you know what we do." "Yes..." he replied, with the hint of another polite smile, digging his hands deep into his pocket, and moving his toes in his shoes so that they wouldn't freeze. It was also important that they didn't die. "...Before funding this family business, I worked on this same sector for a decade, becoming one of the world's top experts in this matter. Those references speak for themselves; we have branches in Berlin and Los Angeles, and we provide with high end solutions for the rich and powerful anywhere in the world." When the accent dropped, Rui felt like he'd been struck; the strangeness of the moment was just as intense as when the man had smiled, or how he looked at him at times... or just the general feel of him, as if he were from another planet, whatever it was... Stepford... Yeah, the guy was a Stepford dude, and Rui wouldn't have been surprised to see him short, and for smoke to come out of him... from somewhere. And the offer was so out of his league. Okay PA stuff was fine. Cooking and cleaning, all work that he'd done at their Bread&Breakfast - but the rest... He wouldn't have been against trying a desk job for a week, and then leaving - but what this guy needed was... way above his qualifications. The young man needed a place to stay, but this was ridiculous. He was no expert; and to be training experts, he'd need to at least be one... And an expert at what anyways? It didn't matter, Rui was an expert at nothing. "Any questions?" Well yeah, actually, he had one - only when he looked up, the man's expression suddenly made him not want to ask it. His smile had been freaky, but his eyes, now, were scaring the hell out of him. He shivered, smiled nervously. "It's really cold," he only managed to say, and stood from his chair. This felt wrong. He didn't know why exactly; but as Mr. Khoza stared at him with those empty eyes, Rui decided that sleeping in his car for a few days might not be so bad after all. And if it got cold, he could always get an indoor parking for a week. Actually, now that he thought about it, even his paternal family didn't seem so bad... And anyways, he wasn't about to start taking vitamins from someone who wanted him to do what he said without asking questions. And being told what to eat? And he didn't care how much money the guy offered; his own money was coming in soon, and he was going to Brazil. All he'd wanted was a place to crash, and this was turning out to be way too complicated. Bringing his attention back on Yuri Khoza, Rui managed to repress another sneeze, blinking while he brought a hand to his scrunched-up face. That averted, his eyes met the other's... dead ones. "Thank you," he said in his meek way, and took a step back, his folding chair nearly turned over, as he again lowered his eyes. Shit why had he looked at him, now he didn't know what he wanted to say anymore... He was able to keep the chair from falling over with one hand, and placed it neatly under the table, but with a shaking hand. "I err... I'll think about it and err... call you back," he prattled on, his voice barely audible, keeping his eyes on anything, but the man. Rui didn't offer his hand, or really wait for a reply. He wanted to be polite, but that guy was weird, and the young man was cold, and needed to find his way back to his car... now. Meeting on a golf course at night... He should have known, he thought, with a sneeze that he wasn't quick enough to repress. And it would be clear that the candidate was now about to turn and leave. Edited by Rui, Thursday, 29. January 2015, 00:36.
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Name is pronounced: ROO-EE. English #8F476B![]() Avatar: http://sigrotor.com/rotas/1448 | |||||
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Friday, 6. February 2015, 04:19 Post #8 | ||||
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Claiming Tsar
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Rui's reaction caught Ilya by surprise. According to his own perception, the meeting was moving along fantastically. But the flesh machine was not so happy. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was something different. What was wrong? He had followed each and every step in the path; he had been warm and welcoming. He had smiled. He had been clear about the job. He had offered him a lot of money. Any flesh machine should be happy and ready to serve. Not this one. This one was... Angry? Scared? Tired? Dizzy? He could not read him. Not a single hint. This exercise in empathy was becoming very frustrating. He glanced quickly to the side, to the tablet where Cyrillic characters were piling up as Maxim was typing furiously from Berlin. Maxim's written messages: - That face! THAT FACE! I just captured it. You are my new screen saver. - Are you serious? Are you trying to give the man a heart attack? Relax, for God's sake! - Still trying. This is so funny... I'm recording this. Valera is going to LOVE it. I can't believe you are actually going along with this stupid idea. - Oh no! Did you just called our business "High end human resources niche company"? HAHAHA!!! - Oh my God... this is like watching the Hindenburg crashing in slow motion! - Please, stop this. If I keep on laughing, I am going to spit my own heart out. - HAHAHAHA "SPECIAL VITAMIN SUPPLEMENTS" HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA - He is leaving! He leaves! I can't believe it! This is the most humiliating thing I've ever seen! I think I feel bad for you... wait... checking... No, I don't. Too funny. So, that was it. A complete failure. Why did he feel he was getting somewhere? Was he that disconnected? Well... probably. It was frustrating, and disappointing. For a second, he had thought he was dominating the situation, that he was conquering this machine's heart by sheer charm and empathy. He had failed. Maybe he had skipped a step... Asking him about his life? But... Why would he do that? He was not interested in receiving any additional information from this meat robot; he just wanted a new servant. But asking personal questions was something he had skipped. It was in the list, after all... Too late. Trying to extend the conversation through any similar path would only make him look weak. And he could not afford to look weak in front of a future servant. He needed to appear strong and powerful. Godlike. Not like another weak and soft flesh machine. The time to play dress up was over. Now it was the time to show the man who he really was. The reveal. "We are not done yet. I never asked you if you wanted the job." He could feel particles of megalomaniac greatness creeping out of his pores, making the grass around him bend in adoration. He could feel the stars above him dimming their brightness to give him the central position in the firmament. He could feel every atom in the vicinity stop its eternal infinite movement, get stuck in a split second, paralyzed upon the greatness of his personality. The essence of things, the very soul of that table and those chairs, gave up on any sense of identity and, full of guilt and shame, bowed before him. The human was far gone. Any trace of that forgery of a smile was erased from history. The Czar was here. [PRESENCE: MAJESTY] He put his hand to his back, and pulled something off his back pocket. A dog leash. "Bow down. Get on your knees. I have something for you." |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |||||
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| Rui | Friday, 6. February 2015, 08:00 Post #9 | ||||
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Yuri's machine no. 3
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The emotion that Rui was experiencing was fear. He'd never truly been afraid of anything before - nothing so tangible. His mother getting worse, the Bread&Breakfast not making enough money, his paternal family intruding on their peace, sure, but nothing like Yuri Khoza. That man's strangeness, which he'd first taken for conventional nerd behaviour, had soon become something that he could no longer explain in a way that would make him want to work for him - not even for a warm bed and a roof over his head. Those eyes had given him shivers that had nothing to do with the cold. There was something really wrong about him, and leaving was the best thing to do. Raising his eyes carefully, and seeing Mr. Khoza reading what was on his tablet, Rui began to turn to leave... "We are not done yet. I never asked you if you wanted the job." Another shiver, and the young man hesitated, remaining where he was. This time, he didn't look up, for he didn't think that if he did, he could say what he wanted to say. "We're done for now, Mr. Khoza... it's freezing," he managed, in a very low tone, not sure as to what to do now. He wasn't going to take the job, even if Yuri Khoza offered it; but he was too shy to just tell him that, and too unsure of himself to just walk off; and so he just stood there, looking at the man suit... As previously stated, the emotion that Rui was experiencing towards Mr. Khoza was fear. And, as it is said that, for the victim of such a powerful Discipline, the attractive becomes paralyzing beautiful, and the homely, hideously twisted, so it was that, for the young man, the frightening became devastatingly petrifying. From one moment to the next, Rui felt a sudden, rising rush of adrenaline, his breath rendered short in a matter of seconds... There was not enough oxygen, his clouded mind alerted as he lowered his head with a painful, anxious frown. He could feel his heart beating fast and hard in his chest, too fast, bringing on cold sweats that made him shudder more in the chilling breeze. His hands had closed into hard fists in his pockets, his teeth clenched hard, as he soon found himself staring at the grass, at Mr. Khoza's feet. He was so blind not to have realized, before, how dangerous the guy was... How powerful and... amazing... Attentive to the smallest gesture, Rui noticed something in the man's hand...something that his dizzied mind wondered about vaguely; but the boy did not speak for fear of displeasing the majestic figure of authority that stood before him... "Bow down. Get on your knees. I have something for you." Already half bowed, Rui fell to one knee with a great sense of relief; unable to stand anymore, the other knee followed, in the mist, as he gripped the cold grass with whitening hands, desperately trying to slow down his breathing, and draw longer breath into his burning lungs. Yuri Khoza had something for him, and the young man was terrified that it might be a painful death for having been so impolite... who did he think he was to refuse an offer from a god...? His mind, should it have been in its usual good health, would have whispered that he was feverish, probably with a pneumonia... that if there was a god, he didn't stand in the middle of golf courses, at night, holding job interviews... that he didn't read text on tablets, or carry around dog leashes with no dogs in sight... But as it were, Rui's mind and soul had been both enlightened and besieged by an obscure cloud of terrifying dread and spiritual elation, that left him unwilling to help himself and completely at the mercy of the mysterious deity. "Please don't kill me," he managed between two wizening breaths; the words barely spoken, the young man heard himself thinking - despite a latent will to live -, that if this god wanted him to die, then it would be kneeling there, half shrouded in fog, prisoner of this terrible fear, that he would do so. Edited by Rui, Friday, 6. February 2015, 08:07.
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Name is pronounced: ROO-EE. English #8F476B![]() Avatar: http://sigrotor.com/rotas/1448 | |||||
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Sunday, 8. February 2015, 21:23 Post #10 | ||||
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Claiming Tsar
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The majestic creature approached Rui calmly. The air curled around him, producing an strange dreamlike effect in his vicinity. He was vibrating with alien energy, an aura from out of this world that engulfed everything around them and swallowed it without thinking it twice. It was the deep voice of necessity; the primal call of humiliation; the ultimate perversion of the human's will to survive. He gently placed the leash in Rui's neck, ignoring his plea. He considered turning off the robot, breaking its neck. But that would just turn it into the wrong kind of tool; he needed something that he could program, something that could follow instructions. A human shaped thing that didn't move and that only rotted was useless at that point. It was necessary to take the next step into the fast lane of reprogramming. He bit his own right wrist, and lowered it, placing it in front of Rui's mouth. His vitae flourished from the two fang holes poked in the pale skin. "Drink." He didn't even push the instruction into the machine's head; he was confident in his own aura. Even better, if the machine refused to acknowledge the command, this could be an interesting programming moment; a brief lesson about the benefits of obedience, and the dangers of disobedience. He raised his left arm, and made a sign in the air. From beneath a distant shadow, a golf cart started approaching. ROSTIK The Master was not good at golf. It was painful to even think that the Master could be anything but perfect, and that he could fail... but what he was witnessing allowed little space for misunderstandings; he sucked at golf. However, there was something positive about that, thought Rostik, as golf could barely be considered a proper sport, and it was more some ridiculous activity played by the arrogant humans who pretended to be more powerful than what they really were. So, the Master's inability to hit that ball, or to throw it in any sensible direction, could be interpreted as an ironic way of being good at humility. That was it. By failing at what the worst part of society was good at, he was making a clear statement; somehow understated and concealed in his elegant actions, but crystal clear for anyone who was smart enough to perceive it. Of course, Rostik was smart enough to notice that the Master's lack of talent in the sport of golf was, in fact, another obvious demonstration of his all encompassing greatness. He considered the idea of letting the Master know that he knew, that he was aware of the incredibly deep humility of his actions; after all, only a truly humble person -person? God!- would make such a display of intentional incompetence in a place where nobody could see him. Doing the same in an environment where other people could witness his humility would defeat the purpose of the action, and brand the Master as another arrogant loser. But it wasn't like that. Anyway, Rostik also realized something even more important: he was the only one witnessing the magnificence of the Master's ironic humility. It was all for him. That incredible, heart warming show, was made for him, of all the people in the world. He smiled. Maybe he would never talk about this with the Master, but he knew. And he knew the Master knew too. It was their personal little secret. Hold on... Why was that hooded frail man approaching the Master? Oh, that was his appointment... But... he also witnessed the Master's golf silent parable... Rostik could feel the cold sting of envy, filling his veins of green and yellow, making him instantly hate the long haired man. The Master stopped the game, and sat down at the table. Something impossible happened: the other man sat in front of him, and they had a conversation. Rostik's hatred grew more and more. Then, the squalid man stood up and prepared to leave. It was unthinkable. Who would leave voluntarily the company of the Master? It was a preposterous idea. The Master stood up, and IT happened. Again. He stopped being the Master, and elevated his soul to a category that made God apologize for his lack of power. He became God's idol. Rostik was crying silently, watching the scene from afar, and feeling a terrible surge of negative emotions towards that horrible thin man that was now kneeling in the grass. The Master approached him, and put him on a leash. That wasn't a good sign. The leash was the ultimate expression of love. How could the Master love that silly stick man? But it got worse, when he offered him the celestial nectar... This was going to be really bad for Rostik. The sign. Left arm. Run. He turned on the toy car, and approached the hateful duo. |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |||||
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| Rui | Monday, 9. February 2015, 05:35 Post #11 | ||||
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Yuri's machine no. 3
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Fighting for air, Rui closed his eyes when he felt Mr. Khoza approaching, furthermore weighed down by the crushing sensation of subjection that his nearness produced - which, added to the petrifying terror that he was still caught in, merely served to completely subjugate the young man. Breathing alone was painful, his already overexerted lungs from the beginning of a pneumonia which had set it, now being filled with copious amounts of cold air, as Rui frantically took in quick breaths, feeling as if he was lacking oxygen. Believing that he was going to die, regardless of what Mr. Khoza did, his head getting dizzier by the moment, the full force of Majesty still very much affecting him, Rui felt something being tied around his neck, under his hair - a collar?; but he was becoming weaker from his condition, and all that he could do was to open his eyes, in a daze... "Drink." Both hands buried in the grass, there was no thought process. Whereas just a moment ago, he'd decided he wanted nothing to do with the man's offer, refusing to be told what to eat, follow a strict regiment, or even to take those supplements that Mr. Khoza had spoken of, now, under the overwhelming power of the Ventrue, the young man, on all four, lowered his eyes on the wounded wrist and did as he was told. He did so because of the overpowering fear in his heart, because he wanted to live - and as he was feeling himself about to pass out, he seized what he now perceived as a chance of saving himself. As there was no real thought process to the whole thing, neither were there any expectations. The lips closed upon the wound, the tongue tasting the dank, cold blood... but as he drank, the young man gradually felt the need to drink more, the flavour of it settling in with a sense of elation, which brought Rui's body to relax instantly. The stress fell as he lost himself to the pleasure of the Vitae that, just as soon digested, coursed through his body. His clouded mind, no longer terrified, drifted into a sense of peace. His heart rate slowed down, his hands releasing dirt and grass as he sighed deeply, in between two swallows, riding the high of pure bliss. The pain to his lungs was gone, as was the cold, any concerns vanished in the cool breeze, as he knelt, half covered in fog... Until the arm was pulled away. Unconsciously, Rui followed... until he almost fell forward. Until he blinked a few times, looking up at Mr. Khoza, his fear returning brutally, as well as everything else. The cold. His physical pain... but there was something else as well now... And as he kept his eyes on the man, a deep hatred rose from deep within him... Rui suddenly backed away, the leash pulling on his collar, and brought a hand up to grab the chain; but something kept him from doing anything more. The terror. A terror that he could not explain, but which reminded him of how powerful this god, before him was, and of his own vulnerability. And through it all, the hatred persisted... Why had he made him drink his blood... that feeling... Hearing a noise, Rui was pulled from his entrancement, and looked aside. Someone was approaching. Help! He could call out for help... but this bastard of a god would kill his would be rescuer, if the young man tried to attract his attention. Unless he was with him. Still filled with dread, and now humiliation at being tethered like a dog, he let go of the leash, lowered his eyes again, but remained as far as he could from his enemy. His body tense with anxiety, his heart pounding in his chest, he waited to see what would happen next. He had to get away. And yet, the feeling of bliss persisted faintly, the taste of that blood still in his mouth, making him wonder... Edited by Rui, Monday, 9. February 2015, 05:40.
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Name is pronounced: ROO-EE. English #8F476B![]() Avatar: http://sigrotor.com/rotas/1448 | |||||
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Saturday, 21. February 2015, 02:14 Post #12 | ||||
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Claiming Tsar
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The self preservation mechanisms of this machine were optimal. When pushed into a situation that was susceptible of altering its programming, its first reaction was to back off. Good. That sort of energetic attachment to its own personality could be greatly beneficial. After all the necessary adjustments have been made, that resistance would become its own chain, tying the machine to its new programmed behaviour. Ilya would have been disappointed if the robot was too docile and compliant. That sort of machine was too ductile, and easy to turn against its master. In terms of chess, this tool called Rui had the potential of becoming a very efficient Tower. Rostik parked just beside them, and hurried out of the mini car, staring at the new machine with all the hatred he could muster in the godly presence of Ilya. The dynamics were starting to show, the Ventrue thought, he realized that he could learn much from paying attention at the little society sandbox game he was creating under his own roof. The three main machines, plus the commercial products that came and went, all of that would give him the bases and the hints to create the appropriate templates for his Society of the Future. He walked to the car, and sat down, pulling the chain as he moved. He ignored the noises made by the machine at the other side of the leash. Its well being was not a priority anymore, and it was never going to be one again. Rostik quickly folded the table and the chairs, and loaded all the equipment in the back of the cart. He sat down behind the wheel, and turned on the car, without waiting for the chained Rui to climb on the two seat car. As a result, the applicant fell to the floor, and was dragged a couple of meters through the grass before Ilya let go of the leash. [PRESENCE: SUMMON] Even though he had been strangled and mistreated for no apparent reason, without even a single word being said in his direction, Rui couldn't help himself, and started running behind the cart, longing to meet with the Russian monstrous God that was treating him so badly. When they arrived at the main entrance, they stopped the cart. Rui got there a couple of minutes afterwards and stopped, trying to catch his breath. Ilya grabbed the leash back, and pulled him inside of a black car. Rostik sat in the front, and Rui and Ilya in the back. The machine was driving the car, while Ilya checked his phone, and his messages. He typed something quite slowly, as if he was making sure no grammar mistakes were being made. He did not even look at the terrified Rui. He just kept on doing his thing. After a few minutes, the car entered a darker area, behind a large market. It was an industrial street, with a few massive warehouses. Rostik parked the car in front of one of them and, after gathering all the stuff, they all got inside of Ilya's fortress.
Chained to a wall. No trace of his shirt. The other man, the smaller, more perverse looking rat, had thrown some water at him. He was kneeling on a bed, his chains too short to let him lie down. It was an impossibly uncomfortable position. There was no light. Only when the door opened, some residual brightness from the outside. How long had it been? How had he got into that situation? The door opened again. It was the Russian monster. He had something in his hand. A remote control. He pressed a button, and a red light turned on. Now the place looked like a photographic studio. The Russian monster, that Yuri, was wearing a wife beater t shirt, and red Adidas tracksuit trousers. He sat down in the bed, just in front of him, piercing his soul with his eyes. "You know me. We've been here before. Remember? You know me. You owe me. I own you. Remember."
The subtle hint of salt in the air. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore. The comforting bite of the sun in his skin. The smell of seafood, of white wine... the laughter... the music... Rui opened his eyes. Naturally, he was in a small village of the Côte d'Azur, sitting in an outdoors restaurant, about to enjoy a magnificent dish of seafood. French wine, and French voices in the background. Far away, the sea. It was about one in the afternoon in a perfect day in the perfect spot. Sitting in front of him, his good friend Yuri. They met every Sunday there, at that family restaurant in the Côte d'Azur, to eat seafood and talk about the important things in life. Yuri had become some sort of a mentor to Rui, during this long summer. They had several conversations, where Yuri had given him his advice and his wisdom, only for the pleasure of his company. In him, he could see that father figure he missed so badly, that older brother that he never had, that voice of reason that made it all make sense. It was a happy moment, one that he promised himself he was not going to forget. "Are you enjoying yourself? Yesterday I took a walk through the harbour, late at night. I just couldn't sleep, and I decided to walk. After half an hour, some beggar came to me, asking me for money." In a very natural way, the memory faded for a second, being replaced by the image of the beggar. "Come on, man. Give me some money. I have not eaten in weeks... months... I just need some change, to buy a sandwich, and I'll be gone. Look at me. Please. I am just like you, only not so lucky. If only you could give me some money..." Through the eyes of Yuri's narration, he could see deep into the soul of the beggar. Past a very thick and pungent layer of obvious empathy, there was something more. Scratching the surface of his skin, there was something unexpected. Circuits and wires. That beggar was not his equal, but a mere machine, a robot trying to accomplish the tasks in its programming. A flesh machine. This subjective memory faded too, bringing back the original conversation with Yuri. "That's what I saw. And it made me feel bad. Bad because I was feeling guilty, and ashamed. That machine had pushed the right buttons. What do you think about that, Rui? What would you have done in my situation?" The waiter passed right beside the table, and poured more wine into their glasses. Something about that waiter was incredibly familiar to Rui. As if he knew the guy from another time, from another life. Somehow, he knew that the waiter was the one driving the cart, but that fact had no real meaning. All that mattered was the lunch with Yuri, the machine beggar, and the lovely summer afternoon in the Côte d'Azur. |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |||||
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| Rui | Sunday, 22. February 2015, 06:17 Post #13 | ||||
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Yuri's machine no. 3
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In complete darkness, the tall, thin frame of the young man shook from cold and exhaustion. There was no noise, no light. Chained to the wall, kneeling up on a bed, Rui had tried in vain to make himself more comfortable. Impossible: his ankles and wrists chained to the wall behind him, he couldn't even sit or stretch his legs. They'd taken his coat, shirt, shoes, socks and left him in this cold room. They'd also emptied his pockets, but he'd said nothing about his car. The police would find it and contact his grandparents. He'd be declared missing and they would look for him. They had money. They would look for him. A fit of coughing shook him; he tried to quiet himself, but it lasted half a minute, sending shockwaves of pain in his head each time that he coughed: a sure sign of pneumonia. They'll come for me... He couldn't understand what had happened exactly. All he knew was that he hated... what ever That was. Not a man. Something that should not exist; not in Rui's world. Not in this world. It came from somewhere else, and had a power that he couldn't fight. A terrifying power. The power of a god. And yet he sounded Russian... That left only another possibility. A monster. Some kind of mutant... He didn't even know where he was. The last that he remembered was running, and being pulled in the car like a dog. He hadn't even fought back... and the blood... he could still taste it. Why did he drink it? What would it do to him...? He remembered the feeling... that amazing feeling... But what if he was contaminated now? But that only made him feel as if he was loosing his mind, so anxious that all he wanted to do was scream as loud as he could. Maybe someone would hear him... Rui lowered his head and closed his eyes to try and calm himself. His knees hurt, from the fall on the golf course, but now they were tired of holding him there; the skin around his neck was irritated from the collar having scraped around his skin when he'd been strangled and dragged behind the mini car; and his hair and pants were drenched. But he was so tired that he began drifting off all the same... In the next moment, he was crying out, tensing up in his chains from the water that had been thrown at him. His heart rate having shot up in no time, he pushed himself against the wall as much as he could; breathing hard and blinking water from his eyes, he looked towards the door; but already it was being closed again, what little light it had let in being snuffed out. It was like that every time that he began to doze off - not that he could sleep in his position; but he couldn't rest either or the rat came in with a cold shower... This time, though, his despair and exhaustion won over his fear, and he sneered in the darkness, "What?! What do you want from me?! You fucking rat!" he let out, his outburst ending in a fit of coughing. When the door opened again, Rui's heart seized in his chest and he braced himself, again trying to push himself away from the light as much as he could. Breathing hard through clenched teeth once the coughing stopped, he squinted from what little light came in, and recognized Mr Khoza - if only for his size, as all that he could see was a black silhouette on a clear, blinding background. Rui's vision adapted much more easily when the room was plunged in red, and he sought the man's eyes, his blurred with exhaustion. Khoza's new clothes reassured him - he looked more human like that. More normal. He opened his lips to talk... but suddenly, he couldn't remember what he wanted to say... "You know me. We've been here before. Remember? You know me. You owe me. I own you. Remember."
The young man blinked in confusion; a shiver ran up his body; and soothingly, he was transported away from his hell, to Brazil. He'd made it. Everything else had been the delirium caused by the fever. He'd caught something after all. He should have gotten his shots. He'd been lucky it had not been the yellow kind... that's what Yuri had said... His mother's old friend, who'd written so many letters... The restaurant belonged to one of his aunt... he couldn't remember her name. His mind was still blurred as he was not completely healed, but he felt good with the sun on his face, as they sat there together. "Are you enjoying yourself?" Rui smiled timidly, lowering his head, his hair coming down to hide a part of his face. Even after all of this time, he was still shy with his mentor. "Yeah, better now. Fever's almost gone," he replied with his British accent. Bringing his eyes back on him, the young man played with one of his silver rings. "You look well," he added, clearly glad to see him. " ...Yesterday I took a walk through the harbour, late at night. I just couldn't sleep, and I decided to walk. After half an hour, some beggar came to me, asking me for money." When the memory of the beggar came, and Rui was given to see the composition of the machine - that he'd thought to be a human -, he reacted violently, shaken to the core by such a thing... They'd done it! He knew that it was coming, but so soon?! "That's what I saw. And it made me feel bad. Bad because I was feeling guilty, and ashamed. That machine had pushed the right buttons. What do you think about that, Rui? What would you have done in my situation?" Rui only looked at Yuri as if he'd lost his mind. "What I would have done? Yuri, are you serious?" he asked, staring at him with shock disbelief, trying to make sense of it, but hesitating to criticize his mentor. Why would they send them out as hobos? He looked at his elder a moment longer. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be... what the hell is going on, Yuri? Why would they put them all over the place?" he asked, trying to figure that out. Or maybe they'd been around for much longer and the masses just didn't know. The government did stuff like that. "And you knew about them, and didn't tell me?" he went on, still in shock but keeping his voice down. The waiter got a double take. A stare. And when he was gone, Rui moved closer to Yuri over the table. "I think the rat's one of them," he confided, pushing his long hair behind one ear. "He looks weird and freaks me out," he added, making a face. "And he hates me." But the young man took his glass nonetheless, and drank the entire content in one go... His throat as dry as if he hadn't had anything in days... "Are you going to drink that?" he asked hesitantly, pointing at Yuri's glass. But his mentor's question was still there, in the back of his mind... "Next time, you gotta run, Yuri. Run like hell, that's what I'd have done... How can you care about what they say, if you know they're not even real?" he then asked, the beautiful surroundings forgotten for the urgency of the situation. It was strange that Yuri, who always made everything make sense, would feel like that for machines... Fact: Robots existed - in such numbers that they'd even made beggar ones... "We need EMP devices..." But suddenly, as he looked back at Yuri, understanding dawned and Rui studied him more attentively, fear coming into his eyes. They couldn't push his buttons, unless... "Yuri... are you one of them?" Had they gone self-aware?! Was Mr. Khoza feeling compassion for one of his own? Could they even feel? And why was he so cold, all of a sudden, when the sun was out? And he felt so tired... The young man didn't move from his seat; but he looked around, rubbing his irritated neck, as if searching for an exit. And suddenly, he sneezed. Edited by Rui, Sunday, 22. February 2015, 06:23.
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Name is pronounced: ROO-EE. English #8F476B![]() Avatar: http://sigrotor.com/rotas/1448 | |||||
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Saturday, 7. March 2015, 03:14 Post #14 | ||||
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Claiming Tsar
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He put his hand on Rui's forearm, as if he was trying to keep himself in control, and started laughing. It was an open, franc, and healthy laugh. It was as if Rui had said something so naive, it was even cute. It was strange and refreshing, Yuri laughing like that, dressed in white... a comforting and grounding presence. "Relax, Rui. I am not one of them. They are all machines, robots... but we don't have to hate them because of that. I don't hate the car that brought me here, or the fork that brings this calamari to my mouth. I don't hate my tools. I use them. I even grow to appreciate some of them. By their very nature, machines can't conspire against us. They don't have free will. They are programmed to believe they have it, but it is all an illusion." The beach restaurant faded off with naturality and simplicity, as it happens in dreams; questioning its realism was an exercise in futility. In a swirl, they were somewhere else, in a huge dark place, with blackened skies looming over a reflecting floor. Rui was climbing up from a nondescript place, and Yuri was helping him up. The walked. There was nothing. No walls, no trees, no obstacles in the line of sight in any direction. Nothing. Just an infinite glass floor. Beneath it, and endless collection of corridors, bridges, doors, gates, tunnels, and passages. A landscape drawn directly from Escher's most lysergic nightmare. Walking on those corridors, bridges, passages, and stairs, Rui could see the machines. Policemen, prostitutes, tax collectors, sportsmen, politicians, models, artists, rebels, conformists, criminals, and everyone who was ever born in this world. All the machines, walking those corridors, choosing what door to open next. "See what I mean? They have an incredible amount of options, these machines. They believe they can choose whatever they want, and that is nearly true... but not quite. They can choose to open the doors around them, and to walk the corridors in front of them. However... look up. Look around you. Do you see any doors? Or any corridors? This is free will. The subtle difference between being able to choose among a nearly infinite number of possibilities, and the ability to literally choose anything. Machines have no free will, and yet they are programmed to believe they do. If you want to put it this way, they don't have a soul. But they are still useful. They even have their own identities, and their own ideas. They can even be creative. Are you creative, Rui?" They walked, enjoying the views from up there.
They were gone. That horrible Khoza man, and his nasty underling. Rui was alone, chained to the wall. No way out. The door was closed, and a faint pale reflection crept from the room beside. He could hear a TV, a shopping channel. Some Northern accented presenter was going on and on about a jewellery collection. Apparently, the first hundred calls would receive a display case and a silver cleaning product for free. Somebody opened the door. Who was that, this time? Who was there to torture him? Which one of those two men? But it was no man. It was a young woman, dressed in pink pale lingerie, and barefoot. She looked at him with curiosity. She grabbed a towel, and walked towards him. Carefully, delicately, she cleaned his face, and put his hair behind, moving it from his face. She took a pillow, and placed it beneath his knees, making it all much more comfortable for him. She wasn't older than 19. 20 tops. "You hungry? I am hungry. Want soup? I make soup now." Her Russian accent was so thick, it was nearly like a slap in Rui's face. The word soup, however, brought an intense broth smell to his nostrils. It was comforting. It was good. It smelled like home, but not like his. It was intriguing. The girl stood up, and walked out, standing in the door frame, waiting for Rui to answer for a few seconds. |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |||||
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| Rui | Saturday, 7. March 2015, 09:02 Post #15 | ||||
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Yuri's machine no. 3
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Music
Rui sneezed, like that, a few times, picking up his napkin with his right hand, as Yuri had his hand on his left forearm. And by the time that he was done, he realized that his mentor was laughing... "Relax, Rui. I am not one of them..." And as Yuri continued, the young man looked at him, every word from his mentor bringing about the pain to subside from his knees, the irritation from his neck to be soothed, his cold symptoms to recede... He was back fully in the Halls of Memory, the brief, slight fissure into Reality filled in by the comfort and peace of mind that the taller man brought. And just as he was about to ask a hundred questions regarding robots, he found himself in another 'reality', trying to ascend... "Wow, look... do you see this?" he asked as he glanced up at the sky, once having succeeded. Turning to his mentor with awe in his eyes, he smiled, overwhelmed with wonder. It was dark and there was a feeling of doom about it all, but it was amazingly huge and delighted Rui's imagination... In the middle of this infinite black space, with no evidence remaining of where he'd climbed from, he ran ahead, turned around and opened his arms wide, taking a few steps backward before coming to a stop, facing Yuri from a distance. There, he raised his head, closed his eyes and merely took in the fresh air from the wide, open space, breathing in freely and deeply. After a moment, he opened his eyes, lowered his head again... and finally noticed the floor, so smooth... but what was beneath it suddenly drained all emotions from his face, and tears came into his eyes... "See what I mean? ..." Rui was suddenly taken by a head rush of vertigo and kneeled down to try and get a grip on himself. He could hear his mentor, realize what he was saying, understanding it all... " ...If you want to put it this way, they don't have a soul. But they are still useful. They even have their own identities, and their own ideas..." And suddenly the machines below were beautiful in their own way, and so pathetic that Rui felt bad for them... They didn't know... They lived in a box... the Matrix. "They can even be creative. Are you creative, Rui?" The young man raised his head, paying no heed to the tears which ran down his cheeks, and thought about that a moment. Not because he needed to think of the answer - but because he couldn't quite process the question, so overwhelmed that he was again, this time with something that he'd been unable to explain. Looking into the pale eyes of his mentor, he felt completely lost. "What does if matter? I have doors," he said, his eyes falling again to look through the glass, no longer feeling the vertigo... but feeling something else... silent despair, as if slowly and hopelessly falling down a dark, but comfortable, abyss of numbness. When Yuri moved away, he wiped his face and stood. Walking with him, he moved closer to his mentor. For comfort. He had doors where he came from... corridors and stairs... What did that mean?
The cold and pain returned with brutality. He closed his eyes, assuming that he must have imagined the red light in the room... and Mr. Khoza's few words... because he was alone... delirium maybe? His fever must be through the roof... "You know me. We've been here before. Remember? You know me. You owe me. I own you. Remember." It would explain why he was there... but he had not known him before the golf course. So that meant that Mr. Khoza wanted him to work for him still... maybe. Rui had insulted him... some Russian mafia guy... and... But no... He wasn't a man, he was... Rui was so tired and weak that he felt as if he would pass out, the voice form the TV, or Radio, a vague incongruous echo on the other side of the door, as he tried to keep his balance, head down, his body shaking, and his eyelids falling form exhaustion... He didn't even dare move his knees on the metal frame of the bed, because each time, it was just so painful that he wanted to scream... his muscle ached, his wet pants and hair were making the cold ambient air even colder. It hurt just to breathe, his health degrading with each passing moment... And still, he tensed up and tried to move back when the door was opened again. "Please... I need to use the restroom, please," he muttered without looking who it was. He kept his head down, hoping by some miracle that they would unchain him... just a moment. "Please..." When the presence moved closer, he flinched and closed his eyes painfully... And it was then that he felt the damp cloth on his face, gently brushing against his skin with tenderness. He needed a shower and must smell terrible... but she smelled nice. Slowly, he raised his head to look at the angel that God had sent him. He must be dying... his health was worse than he'd thought. From the angle at which the girl was, he could see her blue eyes and pale skin - but it was not her eyes which held his attention, as he then noticed what she was wearing, seeing her delicate body through the sheer fabric... He averted his eyes from timidity, and said nothing as she pushed his long hair back - but his eyes came back on her, and he watched when she'd turned her back to him, to go and put the cloth away. Do you like people? Do you like girls? Are you good at talking to people and making them do what you want? Had said Mr. Khoza's add... "Tell me, what experience do you have in working with people? We work with people all the time, and we need people who can work with people. Sales people. For people. And girls... as people too. Tell me." "Cold? You are... Right! I am cold! It is not too cold, too. Russia is colder. Are you cold now? We can move, if this is too cold. Do you like... girls, Rui?" Had then said the man... It was a prostitute... and Yuri Khoza ran a brothel... so he was Russian Mafia... But what he'd felt... how he'd ran after him, back at the golf course... the blood that he'd drank... that taste, that feeling... It made no sense... None of it. "Perfect. Good. Now, let me tell you what is the position, yes? And what is the company. We make lots of money. It is important that you know what we do." He cried out when she lifted his knee to place the pillow under it, and again for the other one, teeth clenched, trying to be silent - but it was no use, the pain was agonizing, bringing tears to his eyes. His knees felt so much better now, though. Still sensitive, the pain still there, but no more unbearable. "Thank you," he murmured. Now if she could only unchain him... "Our product is nothing less than people, actually." "You hungry? I am hungry. Want soup? I make soup now." "We are, after all, a people oriented business, and we take care of our people." My god... He was starting to catch on, he thought. Again, he brought his eyes on her. She couldn't be older than he was. So kind... a prisoner too? A Russian product? Or was that his girlfriend, and he was the product? "Tell him.. tell him... Mr. Khoza... tell him I want the job," he breathed, his eyelids falling again, the simple task of talking becoming difficult. "We are not done yet. I never asked you if you wanted the job." "Another interview, I mean... I mean, I'd like... another interview please," he corrected, instead of replying to her offer of food, his stomach hurting and his mouth salivating as the aroma of food came... He had to get the hateful bastard to hire him, or he'd end up dead. He was probably there because he'd seen his face. Mafioso didn't like being seen. He'd told him about his illegal business too... he knew too much. So he'd be a product or an employee... or dead. And to have a chance of getting away, he needed to become an employee. But when the girl walked to the door, and Rui saw the entrance, the door, the walls, and the bit of the room that lay beyond, he suddenly fell into a panic. He didn't know where that came from, but he didn't want her to close that door. He wanted it kept open. He had a choice... he had a choice... His eyes once more filled with tears, his body shaking violently; breathing faster, he looked at her with eyes dead with exhaustion. "Yes, please... Yes, soup... Please don't close the door..." Edited by Rui, Saturday, 7. March 2015, 09:24.
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Name is pronounced: ROO-EE. English #8F476B![]() Avatar: http://sigrotor.com/rotas/1448 | |||||
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Wednesday, 11. March 2015, 18:40 Post #16 | ||||
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Claiming Tsar
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Yuri seemed to grow as Rui shrunk, he became a tower of a man, his silhouette transformed into a cut out in the starry nightly sky. The whole world combed beneath their feet. Rui could feel the curvature of Earth, the slow spinning motion that made the planet endlessly roll through the ether, the infinite distance between the atoms that formed the air he breathed... "Do you see it now? True freedom is the prerogative of a few. The world is not organized around the idea of freedom, but around the idea of functionality. The ground is there to support your weight, and the sky is there to give you perspective. They are functional. They are not free. A prey is a prey because it serves the predator, and a predator is a predator because it serves the prey. They are nothing without each other. They are not free. Each corner of this world is filled with purpose. Why is it so bad to have a reason to exist? Machines have a justification for their whole existence, and that is a good thing. The ones enjoying true freedom, those like me, are rare, and we are cursed by our gift. We are detached from this reality you enjoy, and we fall into an unavoidable state of anomie; purposelessness. You are afraid of not being entirely free... you should fear true freedom, for it is the heaviest chain and ball you will ever be attached to. I can only aspire to suck on the meaning of other machines' lives... envying their lack of concern about the issues that keep Gods awake by night. Don't despair, child. The road to acceptance is long and complicated. You can find support in me, as much as I find support in you." Right then, and right there, Yuri the Giant, Yuri the God, seemed immensely tired. His exhaustion was such, the whole world around them mutated and changed, until Rui was sitting beside Yuri's death bed. The Russian man was agonizing, feverish, his forehead sprinkled with cold sweat, his steely eyes desperately trying to cling to a life that was escaping from them. The evening sun entered the room, and the tropical warmth made Rui's shirt stick to his body. "Listen to me... we are all frail... no matter the stature, we can all fail, and die. We are all tied together, even those of us who are not part of the main current. I saved your life twice already. I did so because you are special. You give me purpose. Don't let me rot here. It's in your hands. Don't let me go like this... Friend..."
The slave frowned, trying to understand Rui's words, but her English was not so advanced. It was hard for her to determine what he was saying exactly. Only the word "Soup" made an effect on her. She turned around, leaving the door open, and rushed out. After a second, she came back, laughing at herself, and mumbling something in Russian. She untied Rui's arms and legs, and put the leash on his neck. "Now you come with me, and you be good. Don't run away. Yes? I give you soup." She turned around, and left the room, crossing the large living room to reach the integrated kitchen. The TV was turned on, and there was nobody else there. |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |||||
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| Rui | Wednesday, 11. March 2015, 22:59 Post #17 | ||||
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Yuri's machine no. 3
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Rui watched with widening eyes as Yuri grew, and he was suddenly plunged in is mentor's shadow. His heart was seized with fear, beating hard... until his mother's voice came to him, from when he was just a small boy, as she read him a story... And they were now on the planet of the Little Prince of Saint Exupery... and he was as small as that one's flower... “I am looking for friends. What does that mean, ‘tame’?” “It is an act too often neglected,” said the fox. It means to establish ties.” “‘To establish ties’?” “Just that,” said the fox. “To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world...” “I am beginning to understand,” said the little prince. And so was Rui... But he was not a little prince, he was a machine. " ...I can only aspire to suck on the meaning of other machines' lives... envying their lack of concern about the issues that keep Gods awake by night." And his friend was a God... he'd always known that Yuri was special... he always knew everything... A God who was dying... "You caught it... the yellow fever," said Rui. "I'll get aunt-- "Don't despair, child. The road to acceptance is long and complicated. You can find support in me, as much as I find support in you." So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near... “Ah,” said the fox, “I shall cry.” “It is your own fault,” said the little prince. “I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you...” “Yes, that is so,” said the fox. “But now you are going to cry!” said the little prince. “Yes, that is so,” said the fox. “Then it has done you no good at all!” “It has done me good,” said the fox...” "Listen to me... we are all frail... no matter the stature, we can all fail, and die. We are all tied together, even those of us who are not part of the main current. I saved your life twice already. I did so because you are special. You give me purpose. Don't let me rot here. It's in your hands. Don't let me go like this... Friend..." “Goodbye,” said the fox. “And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” “What is essential is invisible to the eye,” the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember. “It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.” “It is the time I have wasted for my rose...” said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember. “Men have forgotten this truth,” said the fox. “But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose...” “I am responsible for my rose,” the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember. "You're right, I give you a purpose. You are responsible for me, Yuri... You can't die," said the machine to its God, its eyes filled with tears, just as it had been the case for the fox. "You are responsible for your machine... Repeat it, Yuri," Rui urged gently, sponging at his mentor's forehead with a soft, cool cloth, as he went on to explain... "It is only with your heart that you can see what's important, what's invisible to your eyes. It's the time that you wasted for your machine that makes it important... because I was special, like you said. But you become responsible forever for what you've tamed... and that's me, Yuri. And I'm not dead, so you can't die yet,” he ended, wiping away at his tear stained face with the back of a quick hand. "Just hang in there, I've got you..."
Cold and tired, Rui waited for what felt like a long time. His muscle paining him, his body shaking with cold and despair, his lungs burning... but she'd left the door open. He had a choice. And so the fact that she'd not seemed to get much of what he'd said didn't bother him so much... nor that he didn't understand her own words, when she returned... and began to unchain him. How could she be so happy in a place like this? She must be his girlfriend... His legs were so exhausted, that the moment he was free, he fell forward, catching himself with his arms, with a repressed cry that brought on a long fit of coughing, as he landed to his side, on the metal frame. He felt her tying something to his neck, knew what it was, but just remained there, lethargic, for the longest time, eyes closed, recuperating. He could have slept for a week, so tired and worn out that he was. He stretched and rubbed at his legs to try and get the cramps out and some blood flowing normally... "Now you come with me, and you be good. Don't run away. Yes? I give you soup." He opened his eyes a crack when she turned to leave... “The thing that is so good about the box you have given me is that at night he can use it as his house.” “That is so. And if you are good I will give you a string, too, so that you can tie him during the day, and a post to tie him to.” But the little prince seemed shocked by this offer: “Tie him! What a queer idea!” “But if you don’t tie him,” I said, “he will wander off somewhere, and get lost.” “But where do you think he would go?” “Anywhere. Straight ahead of him.” Opening his eyes fully, understanding dawned on him, Rui looked at the doorway with fearful, but determined yearning. He didn't know why that quote from the past had come to him now, but he wanted to heed it with all of his heart. What he was clueless to recognize as the first step of his Blood Bond, one of hatred, mixed what he couldn't remember to be his mental conditioning, all part of an intensive, forcible indoctrination, left him completely lost. He managed to pull himself in a sitting position on the side of the bed and, after another moment, to stand up. First he needed to find a bathroom... Squinting in the light, he laid one hand on the doorframe to support himself and took in the room as his eyes adjusted. Where in hell was he? What were all those doors around what seemed like a common room? he wondered as he took in a few steps out of his cell, looking around. The windows were all bricked up... But they were alone. He could see the girl in the kitchens, busy, so small... but Rui made for a bathroom that he spotted, turning the damned leash of his collar in his back. He closed the door, reached out to lock it, but realized that there wasn't any lock. What the hell... He was quick. After having flushed, he went to the sink to wash his hands, and looked at himself in the mirror... and at the collar. The hell with this! Untying the collar from his neck, he went on to wrap the chain around his right hand, and closed it a few times to test it, noticing the bruised and scraped skin around his wrists. Rui didn't have much experience at fighting, but he'd had to defend himself, in school, and could throw a punch or two. And he didn't have much in him, but was fighting for his life. That done, the young man looked around for possible weapons, and went for one of the towel holders, with a bit of force unhinged it, and slid the long metal rod in the back of his jeans. He had no sweater to hide it, but he didn't have much time either, he figured as he carefully opened the door to look. He could still hear noise in the kitchen. Perfect, he thought. And, his heart now hammering in his chest, he made a run for it. The bathroom door was opened, the metal rod pulled out with the left hand, and the young man slipped through it, dashing for what he hoped was the front door. It was one with a lot of locks, that he'd spotted from afar, when he'd first come out of his cell. " ...I saved your life twice already. I did so because you are special. You give me purpose. Don't let me rot here." WHAT THE HELL! “Anywhere. Straight ahead of him.” "Tell me, what experience do you have in working with people? We work with people all the time, and we need people who can work with people. Sales people. For people. And girls... as people too. Tell me." Rui felt as if he was going insane... For when he reached the door, and tried to unlock it - only to realize that there was a pad, and that he didn't know the number, nor how to open the various locks - his eyes were already filled with tears, and he, ridden with guilt... It made no sense... not with all that the bastard had done to him... "Yuuriiii!" he screamed, at the top of his lungs, inevitably starting to cough again, pain shooting through his head as he did, both hands resting on the door to support his breaking body, exhausted in every possible way. Edited by Rui, Wednesday, 11. March 2015, 23:05.
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Name is pronounced: ROO-EE. English #8F476B![]() Avatar: http://sigrotor.com/rotas/1448 | |||||
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Wednesday, 18. March 2015, 03:58 Post #18 | ||||
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Claiming Tsar
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A musky smell in the air. Ashes in the ground. The light of the moon crashing through the entrance of the cave. Bright red coat turned dark purple by the lack of ambient light. Rui's eyes do the trick; they fill in the blanks. Bright red is dark purple, and pale yellow is cyan. Any green is it's red counterpart, but with a subtle hint of something else; taste buds processing the difference between red and green; both nurturing, both good, one energy, the other cleanse. Red equates the slippery slope of pleasure. The purest animal Instinct shouts against red, partly because red is the color of the things that peek out when things go wrong, the color of life escaping the body. However, sitting to the left of Instinct, there is Desire, which has a similar voice, equally inarticulate and detached from any semantics as Instinct; sharing the same primordial arrogance that discards language as a construct that is not necessary for survival. Desire craves for red, and despises green. Red is the thing that keeps desire going. The mere presence of that dark red is the deepest temptation for Desire, who mercilessly beats Instinct to a pulp. The Rational side of things tries to give meaning to the chromatically challenged situation, to provide it with some needed context. A cave in the rock. Snow at the entrance. The moonlight gives just enough luminance to allow Rui perceive the ghosts of the colors around him, and the faintest hints of the shapes that engulf those colors. Bright red, bright green, dark blue, pale yellow... All mixed up, but discriminated by the rational prowess of his eyesight. There is another one there. The one known as Yuri. The colors belong to the clothes; heavy winter sports coats. They are in a stop in the way up, to the top of the mountain. They have found this cave, where they can find protection from the cold. Yuri is about to share something unique and personal with Rui, about to give him a bit of himself, to save him from a certain death. The Primal layer of his brain is being showered with that feeling of necessity, of Yuri being the synonym of survival. The world away from Yuri, out of the cave, is a vertical fall, in the cold, in the dark, through the snow. Desire craves the red offered by Yuri. Instinct wants green. Everybody knows it: Desire is prone to win, no matter what.
Yuri smiles at Rui from his deathbed. There is sanctity in that smile, as if he was all understanding of the pain in the world... and grateful to his friend's good heart and kind soul. Rui's words seem to soften his expression, and give him the peace he needed. His eyes turned down, and acquired a glass like quality. Yuri was dead. Some rural doctor came, barefoot and surrounded by flies. His poise however transmitted wisdom and compassion. The old man knew, and that was enough. He passed his hand through Yuri's face, and closed his eyes. Then he made a signal to Rui, asking him silently to follow him. Outside of the hut, the kids were running in the dusty streets, giving Rui the imminent urgency of being about to lose the bus. He knew he had to stay, but some pavlovian conditioning in his brain was telling him that getting to school in time was a priority. However, the memory of Yuri's corpse in the hut behind him was too strong to let go. The school bus went away, flying in the sunset, without Rui. The old doctor smiled at him, showing him that he was missing several teeth, and walked him towards a bonfire. The elders of the tribe were sitting there, checking out their smartphones while chanting the songs of the old times. Rui sat with them and, for three days and three nights, they told stories about Yuri. Every word was a goldfish escaping their mouths, flying away, merging with the sky, turning it increasingly golden. After three days passed, the sky was pure gold. By night, it's reflection was like a velvet blanket laid over the world. Rui lost his head and found it again, during those three days. The trading caravan came and go, dragging the skulls of the martyrs behind. The time passed, and the doctor, speaking his own invented language of jumping salmons and well prepared bears, gave Rui precise instructions to climb the tallest hut in the village, and to jump into a distant lake from there. Rui found himself floating in a cloud of doubt and lack of purpose, until he realized he was still beside Yuri's bed. His friend opened his eyes, and stared at him, alive again after his visit to the other side. "Thank you, my friend. You have given me the strength to complete this journey. Now we both have purpose, and a reason to be in this world. I promise you that, if you ever lose your way, I will be there to remind you that your life has a meaning. I owe you that much."
Shoulders and knees feel as if they were about to shatter. The chain tying his wrists and ankles to the wall is leaving a deep wound in his skin. Still, there are mixed feelings everywhere. Rui tries to order his eyes to open, but he can't. He then realizes they are already open, but the darkness is so thick he has just forgotten to close them again. Suddenly, the door opens. Light floods the room, stabbing his brain through his eye sockets. The big Russian man comes in. Yuri. The devil that kidnapped him. The one who came back from the dead after three days. The one in the golf course... Rui's head start hurting, as he tries to differentiate what is real and what is not. He seems to be mixing strange dreams with reality... has he been drugged? Yuri walks up to him, with no sense of protocol or ritual courtesy. He bites his own wrist, grabs Rui's hair, pulling his head back, and presses the wound in his wrist to his mouth. He forces his mouth open, while he feeds him his own blood. The chain is not so painful anymore, and all sorts of subjective perceptions shift around him. The whole situation gets new meanings, and his strange dreams become something probably unexpected. Yuri doesn't say a word. He just completes the task of feeding Rui, and leaves. Darkness engulfs him again, but now it is not the same darkness.
The young girl shouts something from where she is, beside the stove. Rui's scream has startled her, and she is staring at him, somehow annoyed. He can't hear more noises in the house. Are they alone? The smell of the soup reaches him. It is appetizing. Still, something more important happens. Something he was not expecting. The door opens. At the other side, the street. Nobody there. Just freedom. |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |||||
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| Rui | Thursday, 19. March 2015, 04:10 Post #19 | ||||
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Yuri's machine no. 3
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The night was cold. Freezing. Rui's illness was starting to kill him, to bring on hallucinations, his eyes loosing focus. He could taste something... different things. There were others... all dying. Blurred shadows walking around him. All trying to survive. And the colors... the white of the snow was so cold, and killing them... Just like the green almost had once, when he'd knelt on it... The young man walked slowly, painfully making his way to the entrance - and suddenly moved back, head reeling with vertigo, as he almost slipped down the dark, bottomless precipice. Understanding that there was only death outside of the cave, he returned, and moved deeper into the cave... and suddenly, there was heat to be found... life... Yuri. Drink.
When the smile came, Rui knew that his mentor would make it. He had to, it was his responsibility because he'd tamed him, just like the little prince and the fox... but Yuri died nonetheless... And Rui felt that he'd failed him... he'd failed his Mentor, who'd been a God... But weren't Gods supposed to live forever? How would he know, he was only a machine, he reflected, his upper body lying on Yuri's as he held him and shed tears, in shock, the pain too intense for anything else. The doctor came in, too late. Rui moved back when the old man closed his Mentor's eyes, and brought a hand to his cheek, staring through a tear blurred vision. "I'm sorry, Yuri..." It took everything he had to follow the doctor: he was empty, desolated. An abandoned fox. And suddenly it was his father who'd just died, and he had to go to school... even though he wanted to stay home for his mother... This time, he stayed. Because his mother was dead too. All that he'd had left was Yuri... And with Yuri gone, it was the end. He looked at the missing teeth, thinking that this was a botched machine too. Just like him, Rui would get old, alone... and lose his teeth. The moment was surreal; he couldn't feel anything, as he watched those around the fire, with their phones, singing; clueless machines, while Rui listened to the tales of their God, his eyes raised to the golden sky, only wanting to go back to the dead body of his mentor... He watched time unfold, inactive dead machines heads, now empty of circuits, being dragged away, listening to fish and bear words, his reason returning as time passed... So many words had been spoken, the sum of Yuri's perfect deeds enough to fill the sky with liquid gold... but when the old man told Rui to climb as high as he could, and to jump, something tightened in his chest... and his circuits rebelled. "No," he said. Because, up there, it was his mentor that made everything alright, safe, that brought the heat, and the blood - that kept him alive... And without him, there was nowhere to go... nothing to reach for in those heights. Only Darkness. His upper body still resting on his mentor's chest, Rui opened his eyes, at the sound of the voice, and sat up to look into Yuri's eyes. Yuri's eyes which were opened as well, and staring at him... "Thank you, my friend. You have given me the strength to complete this journey. Now we both have purpose, and a reason to be in this world. I promise you that, if you ever lose your way, I will be there to remind you that your life has a meaning. I owe you that much." "There shall come over the whole earth an intense darkness lasting three days and three nights... All the enemies of the Church, whether known or unknown, will perish over the whole earth during that universal darkness, with the exception of a few whom God will soon convert..." "Mamãe said that this would come," Rui said, realizing why she had. "It's why she kept the letters... so I would find them, and come here to find you," he added, staring back into the grey-blue eyes, his filled with tears, and a mix of timidity and purpose. "I couldn't leave you, Yuri."
The cold was back; the darkness; the pain... the unbearable pain. The exhaustion. His tears had dried, and more had come, silent, useless as there was no one to hear his pleas. He'd tried to be quiet, but his despair had gotten the best of him, and he'd cried out, coughed until he thought his head would explode with pain, until his lungs burned, a constant fire in his chest... But it shouldn't be long now... How long had he been there? What were his grand-parents doing... weren't they looking for him? Had his abandoned car not been found? It didn't matter anymore, he'd not make it... His head dropped low when the door was opened, eyes shut tight against the invasive flashes of light, whimpers impossible to repress from the raw abrasion of his wrists and ankles, the metal digging into his bleeding flesh as he tensed up, not knowing what to expect this time. Another cold shower? He felt the presence of Mr. Khoza... "Please stop... Please, Mr.-- A cry as his hair was pulled back, followed by more whimpers as his mouth was forced open, his eyes finally looking up at the hated bastard, as he chocked on the flow of blood... But as he continued to look up at his captor, relief came at last... warmth, his pain dissipating as he drank avidly, eyes closing with a pleasure that he'd only felt once, on that first night... in the cave... the memory of this incomparable taste renewed, and of its meaning. His salvation... what kept him alive... More...He wanted more, and drank in all that was offered, grateful, reaching as far as his chains would allow, when his God moved away, all hatred gone from his heart... This was Yuri... his Mentor..."Wait please-- But sound of the door closing answered him, and the darkness returned - and, eventually, once the blood had been fully processed... the pain... and the memories. Yuri...
Head against the door, he heard the girl, speaking tongues of fish and bears, turned his attention on her, the metal rod now in the back of his pants, his leash still wrapped around his right hand, and looked at her, as she stared back, seeming upset but no more. And a feeling of déja-vu came, except that there was no coughing... and almost no pain. She was not calling for help or anything, the way with which she looked at him seeming almost normal... familiar... Blinking a few times, he averted his eyes, confused, lowering his head. And, unable to get out, he moved back from the door. "How do you-- But suddenly, his question became futile, as the door opened... by itself. Heart rushing with this impression of freedom, Rui glanced outside - his eyes shot to the girl - and then right back outside. The cold air was already biting into his bare chest and wet hair; notwithstanding this, the young man made to step out - but stopped dead in his tracks, one hand tightly gripping the doorframe, suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of vertigo, his eyes looking upon the snow with dread.... There was only death out there; an abyss of darkness. He took a step back, unable to remain so close to the precipice... "I promise you that, if you ever lose your way, I will be there to remind you that your life has a meaning." The boy moved back, closed the door, visions of deep red flashing through his mind, and brought his eyes back on the girl. He'd lost his way. Yuri wanted him to eat... and wear that thing. He'd given him a part of him... he owed him. Who was he to question how his God did things? His eyes filling with tears, he moved away from the door and made his way to the bathroom, to replace the towel stand. Then, as he turned, he caught his reflexion in the mirror, and stopped, looking at himself... "...A prey is a prey because it serves the predator, and a predator is a predator because it serves the prey. They are nothing without each other. They are not free. Each corner of this world is filled with purpose. Why is it so bad to have a reason to exist? Machines have a justification for their whole existence, and that is a good thing." Bringing a hand to feel the irritation on his neck, his eyes fell on his bloody wrist, and a vision of deep red came over him... The young man shut his eyes, feeling the craving. He could almost taste it... and wondered where Yuri was, and if he would soon come back to see him... and feed him more of himself. Unrolling the leash from his hand, he pondered this, while he tied the collar back around his neck, and let the leash fall, before him, as the girl had done to him before. Yuri must have a reason for that, he thought, looking at the leather around his neck, in the mirror. Rui didn't know what the justification for his whole existence was; and each corner of his world was not yet filled with purpose... none of it was. "Don't despair, child. The road to acceptance is long and complicated. You can find support in me, as much as I find support in you." "Now you come with me, and you be good. Don't run away. Yes? I give you soup." Yes, now it was time to go and eat some soup. Coming out of the bathroom, Rui made his way to the table, averting his eyes timidly from her almost naked form, and sat. "Sorry about that... I'll be good," he murmured, looking at the soup that she'd served him. It smelled so good, he was starving, his stomach cramping up. But rather than to eat yet, he raised his head and gazed into her blue eyes - the rest of his field of vision fully aware of the pink, sheer fabric, and what was under. She seemed so fragile... pathetique, like a painting. "Thank you for the soup," he added, a bit louder, hoping that she'd understand, before looking back at his soup, and picking up his spoon. "You know me. We've been here before. Remember? You know me. You owe me. I own you. Remember." He remembered... Edited by Rui, Thursday, 19. March 2015, 04:16.
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Name is pronounced: ROO-EE. English #8F476B![]() Avatar: http://sigrotor.com/rotas/1448 | |||||
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| Tsar Ilya the First | Friday, 10. April 2015, 12:23 Post #20 | ||||
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Claiming Tsar
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Wet hard leather cutting his feet as he runs in the mud alongside Yuri. Both trying to dodge the bullets whistling over their heads. They dropped against a muddy wall, and nervously checked their rifles. Their feet were hurting. The Red Army didn't provide them with socks, but with rags and bandages to wrap their feet before cladding them into the hard leather boots. The rain was constantly washing their faces from the dirt and the filth from their environment. They stared right, as a group of kids ran to their deaths shouting the slogans of the party. Sad, but convenient. Yuri faced Rui. His voice was a wormhole into another time, into the past. It was the voice of his own father, echoing through the ages. "Survive. Whatever happens, survive. Be adaptable; whatever you believe, whatever you think... that's not important. If you don't survive, my death will be meaningless." Rui knew those were not Yuri's words, but something deeper; a dogma tattooed in his cortex, a dogma that now was being passed on to him. The noise of heavy footsteps running their way shook them up. Germans around the corner. They needed to run. The crumbling streets of Stalingrad offered several hideouts for a couple of wreckage rats like them. Rui nearly ignored the fact that, even though they've been there for weeks, they still have not shot a single bullet.
Inside of a small transparent box, an homunculus of a man was waking up. He was like a miniature sandpaper polished version of a human being. No features. No hair. No eyes, mouth, nose, or ears. No obvious gender identifiers. Twenty centimetres of pure white animated blank canvas person. The homunculus had to walk around, and exercise itself. He could not, however, get out of the box. Not because it was impossible; the box had no lid, and he could climb out. But because he had a jailer. Watching the box, and several other boxes like that, a seven year old boy, wearing a Russian uniform, was walking around the boxes, watching them. Some boxes were empty. Close to them, red smears on the floor, where the boy had crushed the escaping homunculus with his boots. The boy was in a large room. The room had no ceiling, and a metal ladder in one side. He could climb up any time he wanted, but he didn't. Instead, he frequently stared up, hoping to set eyes in his captor, his face filled with awe, fear, admiration, and terrified idolatry. His room was, in fact, a hole in the ground. The ground had many holes. Each hole contained a similar room. Each room had a boy, or a girl, watching over a new set of transparent boxes. In some holes, instead of a boy or a girl, there was an infantile corpse. A teenage girl was walking around the holes, making sure no child escaped their duty. Whenever one tried to get away, she just pulled a gun and shot the kids in their heads. The whole place was a massive warehouse. It had a door at one end. The door was not locked. It also had windows. The girl stared through the windows, with the hopes of catching a glimpse of her guard, of her owner, of her master... The warehouse was surrounded by more warehouses. Independent buildings. Lots of them. Each one of them had a teenage girl, or a boy, watching over a large number of holes in the ground, where boys and girls watched transparent boxes. Roaming around the warehouses, there was a man in a jeep. He had a rifle beside him. Every time a teenager made an attempt at getting out of their warehouse, he either shot them, or ran them over with his jeep. He stared up the tower, imaging the benevolent and strict gaze of his captor, loving each second he was under surveillance, longing to catch the attention of he who had power over his life. The warehouses were surrounded by a white line painted in the ground. He could cross the line, and just drive away. But he didn't. Up in the tower a single man was watching all around him, at the vast fields, filled with white paint delimited warehouse areas, where jeeps driven by men and women roamed around warehouses, filled with teenage boys and girls watching over holes in the ground, where kids guarded transparent boxes. Every time a jeep crossed the line, the man grabbed his sniper rifle, and shot the driver dead. Some unmanned jeeps had crashed upon warehouses already, and dense columns of smoke clouded the sky. Rui, holding his sniper rifle, stared at the camera pointed at him. Was Yuri watching him now? He looked down, at the explosives rigged at his feet. He could leave the tower at any time, but Yuri would probably blow him to pieces before he reached the ground. Through the scope of his rifle, he could see the broken towers in the horizon. Only a couple of towers stood proud. The rest were in shambles. The camera pointed at him was charged with threat, and with love. Rui wanted Yuri's eyes to be fixed on him, but all he could do was watch, kill, or die trying to escape.
They sat in the sofa, in front of the TV, with bowls of soup in their hands. She seemed hypnotized by the telemarketing programs that flicked in front of her eyes. Occasionaly, she would point at the screen, and say: "I want that" She seemed to be keen on all forms of jewellery, although she also liked some cooking tools, some gym equipment, and even some toys. The soup tasted good. It was a heavy stew, potato based, that blew some heat inside of Rui's frail body. It was the sort of dish that was prepared in cold places, by people who knew how to survive cold. At some point, he realized she was staring at him, instead of the TV. "You have pretty hair. I like it. I Olga. You? Let's play. You wash my feet with your hair, and then I wash your feet with my hair. Fun. Come." The girl was already on her feet, walking to the kitchen, grabbing a large bucket, and filling it with water, while humming some perversion of a regular Western pop tune. |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |||||
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1:15 AM Jul 11