As you may have read, the Detective Frank Malone was dead…..or was he?
Scene setting : The Gantz room – Gantz series.
This arc is written following the Death of Frank Malone. Co-writers – Fu, Zu, Ota, and Moo
Nobody can get in, nobody can get out.
Used for missions only.
Moo: Trent scanned into the room in the same position he’d been in previously. Whistling, he let the tune die after drawing out the last note, which was rather flat. It seemed he was the first one in the room again; he looked around the room with a bored expression, staring as though he hadn’t slept in weeks with his shoulders slightly hunched. Being that the last mission had gone uncompleted, he was back to zero points again. No matter; he enjoyed this game anyway and had completed it a few times already. Though, that last mission was definitely a first. Having to protect his boss from the rest of the Gantz team had been unexpected, but no problem. Trent wasn’t the type to help anyone during their missions. If he killed them to bring them here, it was more often than not to play with them like they were life-size toys. That being the case, he had easily killed each one of his teammates in order to complete his job. The best part was he was never punished by Gantz for doing so. It was just a question of who the target would be this time. His boss again? Or another alien? Stuffing his hands in his jean pockets, he resumed his whistling and walked toward one of the walls of the room, waiting as others scanned in shortly after him.
Razorbackwriter: Cold. All around there was nothing but the blackness that had embraced the fallen detective into what he thought was death. He had always been told that there was a light. A light at the end of the tunnel. There was neither of those things. Frank was dead. Wasn’t he? Far off, there was this slow…beating sound. The sound that a heart makes, though it was faint at first. Slowly building. Blood…rushing back and forth through the arteries. A shudder….breathing that exploded from his lungs as Frank’s eyes shot open.
Deep panting. Eyes, widening, searching. He could see a room. A door. A window. A big…black ball. Trembling hands placed down on the ground as the detective realized he was propped against one of the walls, like a used puppet. Frank’s head lowered as he gazed down at his suit.
It was then he heard the faint whistle, that belonged to another. As the detective looked up, he saw a man that he had never seen before. He appeared to be bored, or at least that is the impression that he gave off. The man was slouching -staring off into space. Frank’s eyes went back to the large black ball again. Why was there just a man and a big black ball in a room? Was Frank asleep? Was this what death was like?
“Am I dead?”
Moo: A new group of people, but more or less the same routine. The second person to scan into the room happened to be one of the most annoying types; full of questions. As if Trent knew anything that would be helpful. “Hell if I know.” He scratches his head, leaning against the wall with his hand still in his pocket. His feet were crossed as he hunched, giving off the vibe of a rather careless person. Letting out a long, exaggerated sigh, he shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head back, looking out the window across the room out to the skyline. It was night time, as always. But the city lights really didn’t make it seem any different; New York was a city full of life, after all. “Does it look like you’re dead?” What a pointless question. “You’re breathing. New York is right there.” Trent pointed out to the skyline lazily for a moment before dropping his hand again. He turned his head to look at the man sitting against the wall, his mouth splitting into a toothy grin. “But you did die.” The others around the room that had scanned in went on ignored. For now, Trent’s attention was on this guy. As annoying as it was, he felt he could entertain himself now. For a few moments, at least.
Razorbackwriter: There were other people in the room beside this guy and Frank, though the guy with his hands in his pockets was the only one willing to answer his questions. Mind you, he wasn’t exactly helpful. Trent hadn’t been witness to Frank’s death, and Frank himself had no memory of it. Curious, Frank pushed himself off the floor. He needed more clues to prove he was really alive. Trent pointed out the window at the New York skyline, and sure enough it was just how Frank remembered it. He stood with his hands pressed to the panes of glass, staring outward, and yet he was unable to say anything. Trent had more or less confirmed what he believed to be true. He had died. How did he die though? The events leading up to meeting the Commander at the warehouse were all kind of fuzzy. Like when you are experiencing a hangover and can’t quite tell what you did the night before.
Looking down at his clothing, it showed no signs of wear and tear. No bullet holes…no blood stains. Frank reached up and touched all around his neck, then his face, as though trying to feel for wounds…scars. Anything.
“How did I die? Who killed me?”
Again, with the twenty questions. Frank had so many, but by looking at this guy who had a sick grin on his face, he was enjoying Frank’s torment.
“I gotta get out of here. I have to find Tommy. Gotta tell him, that the Commander is dead.”
At mention of this, Frank headed for the door.
Moo: So this guy didn’t know how he died. That was a clear enough sign that this was the business Bols had taken care of. Chuckling quietly to himself, Trent watched as Frank palmed at the window, looking completely lost at this point. Who knew if his memory would ever return to him? Well, whatever. It wasn’t like it mattered; this guy probably couldn’t do anything about it, even if he remembered something. And he would definitely be disappointed when he reached that front door, as he wouldn’t be able to even grab the knob. Try as he might, it was impossible for anyone to leave the apartment until the mission was over. With a small grunt of amusement, Trent pushed himself from the wall and resumed his whistling, ignoring as others within the room tossed similar questions at him that Frank had. It was because he was the only calm guy in the room. But he wouldn’t have an answer for any of them. He would simply wait until that familiar tune began playing and the Gantz ball opened, revealing racks of guns and suit cases. Each suit case was designated to a particular person, as it had their names on them. If opened, they would find a rather peculiar suit inside. It would only fit that person; if someone like Trent tried to take one of theirs, it would be rendered useless. Picking up a few guns, Trent holstered them accordingly and waited, staring at the screen that popped up on the sphere.
Razorbackwriter: Frank reached out for the door knob so that he could find his way out of the strange room with the big black ball, and the whistling guy. The only problem was that his hand passed right through it. The detective let out a shriek, before trying again and again, but having the same results. Frank held up his hand before him and it looked real and solid, yet the door acted like he was a ghost or apparition. Turning around to try and get answers again from Mr Whistler, had Frank see the ball open and reveal racks of guns and suitcases. The suits within were meant to be worn by the people standing or waiting in the room. Wordlessly, Frank pointed at the opened sphere, then held his finger up as though to ask another question, but the Mister Whistler (which is now his nickname, in Frank’s eyes), was already holstering some guns. As others came and grabbed their suitcases and guns, Frank simply got in line and waited till it was his turn. Sure enough there was one with his name on it. Hesitantly, Frank reached in and took his out, along with a set of guns, just like the others. It was like being back in boot camp, or at least a very odd version of it.
Taking the suitcase and guns over to a corner, he opened the case and in it he pulled out a strange looking suit. Frank held it up before him and gave it a shake as it unfurled. Others were trying theirs on, and so…thinking this was going to be what he had to do, he took off his day suit and slipped into the special one, doing the zip up and then holstering the guns. Were they preparing for some sort of war? And who were the guns for?
Frank looked down at himself, now dressed like all the others. His old suit, he placed into the case and did it up. Knowing that Mister Whistler was already at the sphere and staring at the screen, Frank ambled over and then whispered
“Is the sphere….thing going to unlock the door?”
Moo: The black world Z had been submerged in suddenly seemed to evaporate. Her eyes fluttered open to a light of an apartment. At first, she suspected to have been in the hospital, as though D.T had reached her in time. But instead she was lying on the floor of a plain room. She sat up very slowly, surprised that she could breathe and felt no pain in her chest. Her hand rose to her chest, feeling no hole from where she had been impaled, and there was no blood on her clothing, nor any tears. Blinking, Z looked around. D.T had managed to get into this room too…but how? Why were they here? She curiously looked back at him. “Where are we, D.T?” She could only assume he knew the answer because he was awake and had never died. Had he listened to her about putting his patch back on?
Turning and sitting on her knees, she looked about the room where people were conversing or having small anxiety attacks. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who was confused. It wasn’t until some music began playing that she turned to look at the giant black sphere. A male was already standing there expectantly, tossing his clothes on the floor. He wore some weird suit and began holstering guns. At this point, Z could only assume he knew what he was doing and stood up to look at what the racks were lined with. Cases. One had her name, Zoey, written on it. How peculiar… This was by no means normal. Z took the case after looking from it to the guy she stood beside, and finally grabbed her case and D.T’s, taking both back with her. Upon opening the cases, suits similar to that guy’s were visible. “Mind helping me out?” she asked the android with a slight coy smile. Back to her old self. She moved to the corner they were near and began undressing, finding that she had to remove her undergarments in order for the suit to fit properly. Men in the room would most likely try to steal glimpses of her body unless D.T did as she requested and blocked their view. Not that it was completely bothersome for the woman.
Trent looked over the screen of the alien the team was suppose to kill tonight. It brought his brow up as he crossed his arms, disregarding a lot of the useless information Gantz provided. Frank’s shriek could be heard from where he stood, causing him to shake his head as he laughed to himself. Here came more questions. He knew it. Pulling off his clothes, he already had his suit on underneath. He just left the discarded clothing on the floor in front of the sphere, ignoring as people began murmuring about his suit. One woman in particular seemed to be observing him as she came closer and inspected him without a hint of shame.
Seeming to have observed him long enough, she was the first to take a case from the rack and open it, walking to the corner of the room to change. Trent turned his head to watch, assuming her weird friend didn’t step in the middle to block his view. Her face might have been a train wreck, but her body was something of a different nature. And if he would be observed, so would she. He tilted his head with interest until others began taking cases too. What the hell? Nobody ever did that. Looking surprised, Trent turned to see a few of them lined up; this was a lot more than usual. Frank was last to mosey himself on over, asking yet another question. With a slight twitch of his lips, Trent’s gaze narrowed at him slightly. “Eventually. If you don’t die.” This wasn’t going to work. Not so many. He scratched his head, seemingly thinking to himself now as he turned and wandered around the sphere. If nobody had noticed before, it would be brought to their attention now; a naked man sat in the middle of the sphere. Trent crouched and poked at the man’s temple with one of his smaller guns. “Hey. Send me first. Got it?” The man appeared to be sleeping, a breathing mask over his mouth. He was connected to Gantz by several cords and looked rather plain. Bald and fair skinned with no muscle definition. He did look anorexic as fuck though.
– D.T found himself in a room next to Z in a room . How they got there was unknown to him as he had asked him . However at this point D.T felt different then he was before blowing himself up , his hair felt slightly longer and more wavy then it was before ; at the point of covering his eyepatch and his clothes too were tinted black and had furry outlines. D.T was curious about their location as well . But he wasn’t as rude as to just stay quiet and he would reply to her once he found a appropriate response.-
” I believe we were transported somewhere. However exactly where and the reason for our presence here is beyond me ”
– He would watch her pick up the cases and wore them , D.T himself would follow her and obstruct people from observing and at that point would watch and wait to see how things would go afterwards. He didn’t know anyone else who was here as he was still newly awakened so he couldn’t truly speak to others at a optimal dialect at this current moment.-
The reconstruction of the body which had just been taken apart and brought to the apartment, revealed a young female body dressed in what seemed to be a typical mans Imperial Trench-coat, scarf, black jeans and comfortable black Nike Roshe Run Hi SneakerBoots. The overall build was lean and peak-light athletic while her height was around five feet and eleven inches. However, the body was completely motionless by the time the female body was complete, steam coming off of her figure.
System rebooted. All damage has been repaired, manually starting optical hardware. Her eyes would open slightly before fluttering a bit as all the light was coming into her pupils. Her eyes scanned over the individuals and she couldn’t help but arch a brow. All senses and bodily controls have been reinitialized. All systems begin routines. Investigate prior memories of cause and arrival… None found. ERR0R. ERR0R.She’d squint slightly as her eyes rested on the others near by in the same room as them.
“Vitals are normal.” Alice finally stated with her voice as her eyes looked over the room with an almost expressionless looking face. “Parameters of the room however, are unknown. ERR0R detect…” She stopped and looked at the people again before tilting her head to the side. Then looked towards the ball thing that was near the other side of the room with peak curiosity. There was a man inside. Why was there a man inside attached to the ball? “Inquiry. Where are we? What is this location? How did I get here? Why are we here? Who are you people?” She was talking like a computer, it seemed like her speech systems weren’t entirely up and running just yet, despite being a cyborg.
A sudden jolt motivated Kenny, who had recently died, to wake up. He doubled over, heavily sweating after the dream he just had; a dream of death and sorrow. He lost his brother, and it was his fault that he couldn’t save either of them. It took a bit, but after breathing more slowly, he realized something.. he was alive. Kenny took a look around the room to see that he wasn’t the only one in it. He turned himself over once, seeing a big sphere just… sitting there. He looked once again at the people he saw. Is this a dream or something?, he asked himself, almost wondering if he should even ask the question.
The room was now filling with people. People that had just as many questions as he had done. All looking disoriented, confused and in shock. Frank had just finished doing up his suit, and running his fingers over his name tag, when a pretty girl had grabbed a case and made her way over to a corner to get changed. Was there no privacy in this place? Frank spluttered as she started to get undressed, but thankfully she had someone with her that helped offer something of a privacy shield. The Detective’s cheeks flamed and he turned around whistling an odd tune. Thoughts turned back to Isolde, when he had watched her come out after a shower and she was looking for a towel….or was it the white soccer shorts. Either way, he was not at all comfortable watching the girl change.
Mister Whistler was the next one to get Frank’s attention. There was a naked man sitting in the centre of the black ball, and he was all hooked up to wires and electrodes that The man’s skin was devoid of any pigmentation. Like he was an albino and a sickly one at that. Frank made a face, then when he heard Mister Whistler tell the man that he was first, followed by poking the man with one of his guns, the Detective had to speak up.
“Don’t do that. You might wake the poor bugger. Is the ball thingy keeping him alive?”
Course, his questions might well get drowned out, by the many other voices in the room. One that sounded like a computer speaking, but it was a girl. Frank squinted as he tried to work out what the girl was asking. Same routine questions that Frank himself had asked.
“I don’t know, lady. But I have a feeling the guy in the ball is going to tell us.”