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Slavko Kotovskiy

You goings to be finishing of that?

0 · 488 views · located in The Infinite Void

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by CrashQueen

Description

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Gambit's loyal, vulture-headed janitor.
He doesn't get paid enough for this shit.

Quasi-harpy. His arms can transform into wings, but it rarely matters since he lives in the supply closet, practically.

So begins...

Slavko Kotovskiy's Story

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A hulking man, head bowed, entered the bar from the back room, gripping a mop and bucket. With one look around the bar, he could tell he had his work cut out for him.
"Mmmm, a good fight was had here, no? Much blood and table broken..." he grumbled, mostly to himself as he set to work, turned around so his back was facing the rest of Gambits. The water and supposedly magical cleaning elixir (gets out any stain anywhere made of anyone!) slopped onto the floor, absorbing what dried remnants of Aschen soldier remained after the night's bloody row. He sniffed the air loudly, the sound wet with mucous.
"Mama was here as well...No wonder there is being of no bodies..."

Slavko likely had the worst job of any Gambits worker, the janitor. But he did his job with a quiet, imposing dignity, really only speaking to people when spoken to.

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Slavko hummed as he worked, the sound low enough to cause the immediate floor around him to buzz a bit, the water in the mop bucket. He glanced up at Jack Rip] and blinked a single eye, nictitating membrane sliding over his black eye, given it a momentarily milky appearance before he shrugged.
"Is never any bodies being left since Mama came here. She takes them all."

He didn't pay much mind to his co-worker, Kiyan. But he rarely did. He was well aware he was one fugly sumbitch. The less interaction, the better. He'd probably order a beer once the bar was clean though...If it would ever be clean.

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"Not my mother..." He corrected, relocating himself to the next mess and cleaning that up. "Not of birth."
He worked methodically, dip swab swab swab, dip swab swab. It was incredibly fortunate that whoever built Gambits had the foresight to make the floor hardwood. Though it looked like the lone rug by the fireplace had gotten some muck on it. Oh well, he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

He paused to scratch at his back, grunting in irritation. Kiyan's wave caught his eye and he politely lifted a hand to return the greeting.

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Despite his reluctance to speak to many people, Slavko couldn't help but focus more attention than his usual on Jack Rip. Perhaps because he was a carrion-eater, and the sight of a skeleton was a familiar, almost comforting thing to him? Who really knew how the vulture-janitor's mind worked.
He kept at his job, though he raised his voice to be heard across the bar as assessed a particularly vicious looking blood splatter on the back wall.
"People with the possessions are always being here. We are not be performing exorcisms, so I do not know why they still come."

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The janitor disappeared into the back room and returned with a spray bottle and a brush to try and scrub the ichor off the walls. Well now it seemed like he was willing to converse with the skeletal man. "You remind me of other girl that work here. She has the see-through skins too...Only she is pretty like angel."
His gruff voice picked up a hint of fondness before he immediately squashed it again. He did take notice of Kiyan's uneasiness and tilted his head in an avian manner. "Are you being okay, Miss Kiyan? You look of worry."

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"A walking corpse is Slavko's breakfast," he chuckled as he scrubbed, kneeling down to get at the floor molding, glimpsing a what appeared to be a detached finger sitting underneath the chair. He got the scraps, it was part of his contract. But he'd save it for now, as he grabbed the morsel and tucked it into his coat pocket.
He scratched at his back again, making more annoyed grunts.

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"And now we have become a daycare." The janitor grunted, obviously annoyed with the fresh mess of streamers that he had to pick up.

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But at least that wall was clean, leaving now half of the bar practically spotless. Figuring now was a good time than ever to take a break, the vulture-headed man waddled his way towards the bar and pulled out a stool to sit upon. Officially off the clock, he could mess with the new meat.
He called to Kiyan. "Two Slavutych, any."

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"They keep in back of cooler," he added helpfully, tapping his fingers on the bar impatiently.
The vulture watched Jack and Lorraine wheel and deal before scratching at the side of his beak, mumbling something about minors and how when he was a fledgling he had manners and common sense beaten into him and perhaps that practice should be upheld more often.
Of course, this was all in Ukrainian, so it sounded more like he was speaking in tongues to himself.

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"What is skeleton being here?" He challenged back as he popped the bottle open and carefully took a swig from it. He had lots of practice in working out the mechanics of beak and bottle top, so nary a drop was spilled. For good reason too. His draft of choice was expensive and high-quality. And he could get it free as a perk. Hell, the perks were the only reason he showed up, faithfully swabbing the bar that was always in a state of destruction and chaos.
"I work here. I am being the janitor. My name is Slavko, what is yours, skeletonman?"

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"Then you are in the right place. Wing City is how you say...a 'clusterfock' of strange." The man chuckled again, taking another nip of the beer. "I hope you will be finding what you look for soon, Jack."
Indeed, Slavko was a man of few words, but what words he did manage were at least heartfelt. He seemed compassionate enough, despite his unusual appearance.
"I am thinking of stepping out of the back to have a smoke, would you like to be joining me?"
He really needed to stretch out his wings. They were giving him hell underneath the trenchcoat.

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The vulture pushed himself back from the bar, finishing the first bottle and grabbing up the second before he gestured towards the door that lead to the alley. "This way, my friend."
Once stepped outside, the man removed a pack of cigarettes from another pocket, lit one up, and clamped it gently at the corner of his beak, inhaling deeply and exhaling a cloud of smoke through his nostrils. "Ah, that is feeling better~"

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"You cannot smell things?" Slavko looked intrigued as he released another breath. "All I can be doing is smell things. My eyes are not so good. But it is hard to finding glasses that fit. Pardon me."
He excused himself as he undid the coat, revealing a surprisingly lithe body dressed in a white shirt and tie and slacks. A good deal of his mass was composed of feathery, healthy looking wings that he stretched out, easily spanning the alley with them.
"Hurts to keep them tucked so closely for long times."

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"I have seen organ vendors around this place. If you are staying long enough, you will likely being running into them." He nodded sagely. Though he rarely made so much of a public appearance, Slavko had been there for years, watching the goings on in the bar. Nobody noticed him. That was just how good a janitor he could be. "Sadly, that is all I can be offering to you."

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"Unfortunate circumstances, my friend." He lamented. "I think I might being crazy if I could not be smoking. Always people saying it is bad, but what is bad is if I rip their head off instead." He laughed darkly, plucking a loose feather from his wings.

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"So I hear. But I have the soul insurance so it won't being much unpleasant. At least, that is what I have been told." He stubbed out his cigarette against the alley wall and folded his wings in tightly against his body again before on went the trench.
"I suppose I shall being having this bottle after work. There is still too much left to be cleaning."
Break over, the vulture-man shuffled inside, only lightly regarding those who had shown up in his absence. "Hmmmf."

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Slavko Kotovskiy wiped his brow and leaned on his mop. Finally! The bar was cleaned of every remnant of the bloody battle that had occurred the night before. The vulture twisted his beak somewhat into a smile as he admired his hard work. Of course, he knew his effort would go unappreciated and his handiwork was but ephemeral. But for now, he was free!
...Now what?

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The bird-hybrid grunted when he realized that nobody had taken care of the table that the dragon had left behind, fish juice and a few errant bones left over. He clicked past Jin on his way to the table, regarding the child with a somewhat icy look.
Daycares, we are being bloody babysitters.

He regarded Officer Perry with the same icy look. But Slavko wasn't stupid...he knew better than to start things with the fuzz. That could be somebody else's job. As long as he wasn't busted for the few minorly illegal substances up in his quarters, he would be fine.

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Slavko Kotovskiy sat in a far table of the booth, pounding a bottle of Jager, shot after shot. Alas, it was too good to be true. He spent his day mopping up the carnage from the night before, and here it would come again. Such was the life of the lone Janitor.
"Always with the fighting, I do not understand..." he lamented, tossing another shot into his beak.
Ah well, might as well get sloshed to deal with it. He did not look forward to work tomorrow.

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The door leading to one of the back rooms of the bar swung open and in hulked Slavko. The vulture man took a glance around the empty bar, sighing in dismay that one of his favorite bartenders was not working the morning shift again. Come to think of it, she hadn't been seen around Gambits for weeks now. He hoped she wasn't dead. He never got to tap that.
After a moment of lamentation, the janitor set to his daily work, noting with glee that the bloodshed was at least minimal. Mopping began, as the vulture man hummed to himself.