Brennan Liam Patterson (scratchthesky) wrote in immune_ic, @ 2011-12-18 20:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2011 [12] december, ellie |
Who: Brennan and Ellie.
What: Scheduled patrol and awkward bonding.
When: Backdated to 12/17, evening.
Where: NY Public Library, 2nd Floor.
Rating: G.
Status: Complete.
Brennan had posted his schedule for the Library on the door to the periodicals room, a creature of habit as there had ever been. He hadn't gotten around to incorporating Eloise into the schedule or making one for her since they hadn't gotten the chance to sit down and start talking it over. He'd been assaulted by some ignorant midget within minutes of getting to the library and ended up getting into a small row with the guy in the middle of the first floor. That was an auspicious way to start living in a new place, though he didn't think Mike, that was his name, lived in the safehouse, so that was a plus. The guy seemed to have a lazy streak, and that was more than enough to enrage him a little.
Brennan had, for the most part, pushed any information about Mike out of his head since it was inconsequential and he had more important things to think about at the moment. There wasn't much he was going to need, since his patrols in the library were mainly up on the second floor of the building, though it meant that he was going to have to become a better shot since getting them hand-to-hand wasn't likely for more than just the obvious reason. The fact that there were different kinds of infected here -runners and leapers foremost on his list- and they certainly had to act differently. The swimmers usually didn't move in groups, with the exception of the large numbers which showed up in response to the pilot, though now that everyone knew about them, the likelihood of swarms might decrease.
He didn't think that the pilots were naturally swimmers anyways. The fact that they lured other swimmers to an area reminded him more of the Wakers that were found on the mainland, though he hadn't heard of Wakers luring other infected to them, just people, and the pilots in the water clearly weren't trying to lure any of the survivors out into the water. Brennan wasn't going to ask the Zimmerman brothers about the pilots, especially now that he's left the island. The final words he'd gotten from them didn't really give him any ideas of their help in this, which though it should make him annoyed, he just wanted to let it go. They'd never been anything but annoyances to him, though it might be his fault at the center of it. It didn't really matter anymore. He grabbed the few things he needed to take upstairs to take his mind off them, not really needing to waste any more of his time on them.
As he made his way to the staircase, he jotted down his newest idea, hoping to gather some new data on Wakers. Maybe after he's learned more about them, he can start to formulate more solid opinions on the pilots, and perhaps take a trip back to the island to test the idea. He left the folder titled 'Pilot' in the periodicals room, taking his thin files for the other infected types upstairs with him along with his rifle, which he kept tucked away in his bag, not wanting to alarm any of the other survivors nor bring attention to himself on behalf of the army personnel, and a pair of binoculars.
No one stopped him on his way upstairs, and he was met with darkness and quiet, completely different from the atmosphere of the first floor. He wasn't sure if anyone ever came up here, but it certainly didn't look like anyone made this place home. He walked towards one of the northern windows, unzipping the bag, but leaving the rifle inside of it, hoping he wouldn't need it tonight, taking instead the binoculars. They were a pretty good pair, and he assumed military grade due to the fact that they had night vision. Whoever had owned it before him rigged it to charge through solar power, and the power source lasted for a while. Brennan didn't know the person who had owned them before, only that they had been killed (though the way he was told the story, it sounded more like they committed suicide) and that it was better off being used, and they were thrown at him by one of the trainers.
Setting up by the window, he turned the night vision on the binoculars and scanned the area for any movement. He had a notebook open on his left the windowsill, pen resting on the page just in case anything of note should occur. He sighed, but held his post, not liking how sedentary this patrol was in comparison to his previous one, but it was keeping him busy and that's all he could really ask for.