Two Dead Guys Wake Up in a Morgue....(Woof)

"Everybody get down! You, don't move! I swear, I'll shoot you!"


Enkara sat up with a gasp, and then tumbled to the side, off the table, his hands reaching up to his chest. With a groan, he brushed the pellets off his chest. He sighed, and stood, slowly, wincing as he did.

"OK. Morgue. Buckshot." He glanced down, and raised an eyebrow. "Naked. Autopsy, then."

He sighed and glanced around. At the end of his table, there sat a bag. He walked over to it, and opened it. Inside, there sat his clothing, his wallet, and, there, at the top, his belt, with his sword attached to it still. He began to gather his stuff, looking around as he did. There, on another slab, a man still dressed, though there was no bag at his feet.

"Hmm..." wondered Enkara, to himself, as he dressed himself, sliding his long overcoat on to hide to the sword under it. As he did, he ran a finger across the holes in his shirt, and frowned.

"This thing cost me $500," he muttered to himself as he picked up the clipboard hanging above his slab and checked it. "Cause of Death: Gunshot from robber. Victim walked into store, only to be gunned down by a robber wielding a shotgun. Nice."

He dropped the clipboard on the table, pulling the paper off it as he did. That went into the bag, and he bundled the bag up, before shoving it into a pocket. He moved over to the other table and pulled the clipboard down, looking it over.

"Cause of Death: Stabbed to death with broken bottle during a bar fight. Stabbed another man at the same time. Items have been moved to evidence until such time as police are done investigating bar fight."

Enkara shook his head and moved to hang the clipboard back up. He looked down at the man, and frowned softly. The mans visible left arm was covered in scar tissue, while his right was a blackened and evil-looking claw.

"Ashy? You doing alright?" A voice called, echo like and distant. Ashford didn't think to believe what he heard was real, but with a grasp of hope... He answered back.

"I'm fine Jane. You know how I get." He smiled, looking towards the young woman with her sharp features, as if she'd taken traits from Gretcher's personality and masked her face with it. She shook her head with a rueful smile and returned behind the tavern's counter, helping Mary out with a customer.

The room became more clear, and he glanced about. He was at the tavern. His left eye wasn't gone, giving him a sight he hadn't known for quite some time, but he was thankful for it at this moment. He could see them. He saw Cain off to the side, his blacksmith gloves still on, beard heavy with soot. Hazel was with Dream, chatting away, his void arms sprinkled with stars of creation. Dot was in the midst of a game of cards, obviously winning, and Wolf was right behind her, his hard gaze on everyone.  

"It isn't real, you know." The smooth voice spoke, and instinctively, Ashford moved to the side for Gretcher, giving her space to sit beside him. "You only torture yourself by being here." She spoke, soft yet very real.

"I know... I just don't know how... Why everyone is so happy." He whispered, but his whisper carried across the room, and everyone was suddenly looking at him. He sighed. Knowing that his death was soon to be undone.

"One of these days. It won't be you that wakes up Ash. One of them." He looked forwards at the dark haired woman. Covered in bandages. Skin a mix of fire and disease, the coat she wore almost the same as his, but darker, longer.

"Aye... But not this time." He promised Four that, and suddenly, everything went black.

His eye snapped open, an angry glare on his face. Having expected to wake up still in that alleyway, but the room was cold, and he knew where he was. A morgue. Perhaps he should have expected that, rather, he was in the cold, and his shirt was sticky with blood. Wonderful.

Sitting up, not having noticed the other man in the room, Ashford let out a yawn and stood, patting himself down. "Bugger... Where are they..." He muttered, checking the nearby table and then walking over to a cold chamber, locked, but with his metal hand, he easily punched a hole into the chamber, reaching around and pulling out a dagger as he did. "That's one..." He said aloud, grumbling to himself as he did.

Enkara stepped back, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword as he did, as the mans eye snapped open. When the man sat up, and then stood from the table, Enkara released his grip, though kept his hand near the hilt. He watched the man for a long moment, before he cleared his throat.

"This is going to sound really weird, but how long have you been able to wake from the dead?" he asked, as he sat himself down on the table he had woken up on, still watching the man. It wasn't every day that he met a fellow like him.

Ashford turned to the voice, his hand gripping the dagger ready, but all he saw was a curious man with a sword. He should have been worried for the sword, but mostly he was too interested in finding the rapier sooner then later. "Know what. That is a weird question. What kind of question is that." Ashford stated, eyeing the bag the other man was near and walking over to it, reaching a hand in.

What was an empty bag, the clothes and equipment that belonged to Enkara taken from it, suddenly the man pulled a old leather glove out of it, which he snugly fit to his fleshy hand, only to stop and pause at the sight of it. Scars all the way to where his coat was rolled up, and then some. Out in the open and see able. He grimaced at the memory, and with a grunt, looked away back to the man. He looked rather professional, besides the sword. But in this world where swords were not common place, Ashford supposed anyone with a sword looked weird to him now.

Besides himself.

"I don't know... five... six years now... Or a thousand. I think. Not technically cause I slept for those thousand years... Right? Ah never mind." He went from confidence to grumbling, his eye sighting the door, but he didn't move, instead, he looked back to the stranger, who had seated himself and watched with a curious eye it seemed.

"You know what I did... And you're nearly far too calm to be normal... Why did you ask that? How long I'd been doing it?"

Enkara watched the man react to his question.

Gripping the dagger? Fight or flight response, of course.

He didn't react for a long moment, just watching the man, as he pulled a glove out of the bag Enkaras own effects had been in. He raised an eyebrow, and watched, but still held his tongue. When the man turned to stare at him, Enkara studied him.

Why does he look so confused? Ah.... Of course. So few people use swords these days...

At the mans final statement, and question of his own, Enkara grinned slightly. "Well, I only ask because it's so rare for me to meet a fellow Immortal. The last one I met was a man named.... Nicholas. Quiet a decent fellow, really. Not at all like me. Or you, I'm assuming," replied the Sumerian. "A scientist, really. Not a warrior." He paused, and frowned slightly. "When you say you slept for a thousand years, what exactly do you mean? Were you buried in a tomb, or under some rubble? Maybe a cave-in?"

Strange. No. Shouldn't be so strange. Not in this rather strange world where men and woman could fly because of their genetics. "I do doubt anyone is quite like me." Ashford mumbled, checking under the table for any of his items. No. Good thing they hadn't taken his belt off yet. Sliding the dagger into it's sheath, he frowned and tapped his side with a clawed finger, blood deepening his shirt from where the skin was being cut by his almost uncaring tapping. As if he didn't even feel the small wound.

"Need to find the rapier quick." He mumbled a little louder, before glancing over to the other apparent dead man. Why else would he be here. A morgue. That and the ruined shirt was a dead giveaway. "That story... I don't remember exactly. Got hit by a energy field that traveled across the entire of Pars I believe. Doesn't matter to you, it was in a different world. One I can't get back too. Rather not anyway..." He half lied. There were reasons to go back. Gretcher was one.

But reasons to not go back? He had plenty of those. Too many. "Say. If you're not doing anything. I need to find my rapier. It's as black as the night and the guard looks as if it's just threatening to stab you. Best to find it before anyone gets killed with it. Even for immortals. There is no going back from the Midnight rapier, for the attacker and the victim." Ashford explained, not exactly too caring if the man would rather not... But three eyes were better then one. And if anyone normal held onto that weapon for too long... Well. The two of them would no longer be the only dead people in this building.

A blink, and then Enkara nodded slightly. "Black rapier, looks like it's trying to stab me. I can help." The immortal moved around the room, searching cabinets and corpse storage fridges. A slight hum began to sound from him, and he looked over at the other man for a moment.

"Ένας άλλος κόσμος, ε; Τι περίεργο... Λοιπόν, όχι πραγματικά. Είμαι 5.000 ετών," he muttered to himself in Greek.

He opened a door, only to come face-to-face to a midnight black rapier standing point first in the ground in front of him.

"Uh, is this it?" he asked.