grey_ghost (grey_ghost) wrote in the_dome, @ 2013-07-07 14:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | 04-04-2017, december, december and serge, serge |
Mismatched
Who: December and Serge
Where: December’s house
When: Afternoon
Warnings:
There was structure in place in Serge’s mind now, an approach to working solo that he was confident in. Hell, he was invigorated by it even. He had territory to observe, routes to cover it and perches to watch from. His collapsible bow was folded away in the duffel over his shoulder, fletchings of arrows jutting out slightly, and Serge had strapped on his survival knife and pistol before stuffing the rest of his tools in with the bow and arrows.
What he really wanted, before he settled into a tree for the next 10 hours, was to check up on the woman who’d clued him in to begin with. He knew December was hurt, and for all Serge knew? The bite transmitted the disease, and she was like Zania now. If that was the case, he wanted to believe her first thoughts about not needing to execute everyone who was infected, but he also wanted to see for himself. This wasn’t a contract job; Serge was going to make the choice on his own... Stepping up to the house listed as hers in the police records, he was quick to give a firm knock before stepping back and folding his hands behind him diligently.
December was still bored out of her skull, so when the knock on the door came, she was up and over to answer it possibly slightly faster that she usually would. She blinked first, then smiled a touch when she saw Serge on the other side. "Why hello, officer, what can I do for you this fine day?" she asked, stepping back to allow him in if he wanted to do that. The bandage on her arm was still in place, and the healing bruise beneath her eye was visible.
There was no smile waiting for her in kind, though that was less December’s fault and more Serge being himself. It wasn’t even the hunt he had planned keeping him grim, though that was some factor to be sure. “Show me the bite,” he said without preamble or any greeting of his own, stepping in at December’s unspoken offer and bumping the door shut after him. How he knew she’d been bitten, he wasn’t saying. She was an intelligent, quick woman; she’d figure it out easily he was sure. And if he was right about her? She’d figure out what the arrows in his pack meant, too.
"Hello to you too," December said drily. "And I'm fine, thanks, really, your concern is overwhelming, stop, you're embarrassing me." she tacked on, giving him a Look. "Are you here to check that I'm not sporting fangs?" she asked. "Because I'm not, just for the record." she added, moving to start unwinding the bandage. "Also--who exactly's off breaching the shit out of confidentiality?"
“I know you are not infected,” Serge confirmed with a slight nod, eyes fixed intently on December’s as she unwound the bandage. When it was uncovered, he’d look. Until it was? He’d watch her, people gave up all kinds of insight in their expression when they focused elsewhere. “If you were, I would not bring harm for that fact alone,” he assured her, “I would hear you out. And your condition was shared by Dr. Worthington in good faith, even if it was a breach.” Even Serge had recognized it as such, but it wasn’t his job to make the man do his own job properly. Not until a law got broken or someone died, whichever came first.
"What are you looking for then?" December asked, dropping the bandage down onto the island counter, and she held her arm out for him to see. It was still all stitched up, still looking nasty, just not quite as freshly nasty. "And hooray for a slight stay of execution." she added. "Do you want the story, or are you just here to be short with me and show no concern for my wellbeing?"
Wordless for a moment as he looked over December’s arm, Serge’s lips pursed thin behind his beard. His eyes ticked between the wound and her gaze in a moment of wordless consideration before he reached a hand to her skin. He wasn’t overly rough with a testing push around the stitches, but it wasn’t something you could be gentle with either. “Shallow puncture, the fang does not extrude heavily,” he noted before withdrawing his touch.
“I am looking for any detail I do not have yet,” Serge explained then, nodding at her arm again. “These qualify. So will your story, if it is shared. As for concern? Your wellbeing does not profit from knowing me. If I can offer more aid than your doctor friend, these are sad times,” he shared with a flicker of a smirk, “My stitches are much more crooked. But tell me of the attack. Please.” It was a mindful addition at the end there, but one Serge wanted to offer. Most people let him be sparse and cold; they kept things short and gave him room. If she wasn’t going to? He’d adapt as needed to get the knowledge he was after.
She made a face when he put pressure there, though didn't actually cry out or anything, like most people likely would have. "Speaking to me could give you detail you don't have yet too," December told him. "With words, and not short commands 'n shit." she added, starting to wrap her arm up more. "And straight won't matter here." she said, gesturing to her arm. "That shit is going to be a mess of scars, end of story." She knew that.
"Some bitch showed up while I was in the office. A new corpse dropped, a drained one, and I was going to start the autopsy. I come out, she's there, looking to me like she's trying to cover up something. Either way she didn't have much of a chance to do anything and neither did I before she was on me. Long story short, she punches me, bites my arm, there's a scuffle to the death, I won. I did it with a trocar. I was just stabbing as much as I could, then all of a sudden, she was dust. The trocar is metal, by the way, so apparently it isn't just a wooden stake to the heart that kills a vampire."
“I know trocar,” Serge confirmed with a little nod, thinking back to contract work in the old world. “And dust? Is strange...” Very strange to a man who’d seen so much in his life. “Though it links to combustion in sunlight. Lack of fluids in tissue somehow,” he mused with a frown, stepping back to give December her space as she rewrapped her arm. “Is good to know heart legends are true, better that you survived to tell me,” he explained, “This woman, could you identify her from photos? Those who knew her could be victims or new infections.” Which didn’t really touch on December chiding him for his lack of social cues; Serge knew they weren’t there, and he could try to compensate, but even his best efforts would come off stilted or cold even if he was genuinely glad she’d survived.
"Yes, I'm so glad my continued breathing has been of benefit to you. It's really the only reason I'm here." she said with an eyeroll and slight smirk. "And maybe. It happened pretty fast. I'd run down the victim's family and friends first." she suggested. "So, what's your rundown on current vampire information? Because I've got a lot of it. And plan on hunting them, if they're going to go running around making bodies."
He definitely didn’t like this continued poking over being who he was, it was annoying enough to make Serge want to explain himself, but not so much that he had the words to do it. “There are other officers following victims’ known associations, but this vampir threat is not accepted fully. Is too new, too foreign,” he answered, “I will hunt tonight, however. I know suspected preying grounds that yielded drained corpses before, spaced apart enough to suggest one hunter. I will draw them out.” And with any luck, the bits of lore dating back to childhood stories would prove true. At least the heart did. “If you will share your information, I will not waste it.”
December got herself a drink, and offered him one. "Before I go sharing, I'd like to put out there that I'd like to go with you." she told him. Not that she would actually withhold the information even if he said no, but she wanted to throw that out there first.
Serge raised one hand to wave away the offered drink curtly before he folded both in front of him, standing just beyond the door still. “In what capacity?” was all he asked in that moment, wondering if she needed to go hunting now or if this was more to understand than it was to purge. Serge wasn’t a scientist, he had no intentions of analyzing these things, but if someone else could? Everyone in Delphi could profit from it as much as from Serge wiping them out one by one.
"That part where I told you I was going to be a hunter." December told him. "So, the hunting capacity. Or bait. Clearly I look biteable." she said, indicating her arm.
“Everything that is not a shark is food to a shark,” Serge noted, though he nodded in slight agreement. “And I do not use others for bait.” Not when the prey he hunted would eat the bait. Using a drug lord’s men as lures? Different story, different time. “What would you hunt with?” he asked then, still mulling over her request as he tried to figure out how much extra risk December might bring to his work.
"I've been working on that." December said. "But I still have old weapons from the zombies, and I was no slouch with them." she said. "I'm not going to slow anyone down, if you're worried. Think about it. I got jumped by a vampire and with no time to think, at a disadvantage immediately, I not only survived, I killed it." she pointed out.
Serge thought on that, biting back the suggestion that maybe she’d just been lucky in this first attack. Maybe the next would kill her. But maybe it wouldn’t, if December’s self-confidence wasn’t misplaced. “Your odds of surviving twice grow if you keep distance,” he offered instead, “I have pistols, if you can shoot.” Plural. Plus bartered ammo, a flash suppressor, and even a handful of road flares Serge had been rationing over the years since he and Corey had salvaged a case of them.
"I can." December said. "I prefer a rifle, but still." she shrugged. "I can do a pistol." She also had a machete, in her closet and a few other things, until Mannix came through with others. She took a seat at the kitchen island, and propped her head on her good hand. "Fire, sunlight, fuck up their heart are true, apparently." she said. "Crosses don't work, holy ground does though, it seems. Working on whether or not holy water does. Garlic and silver, no. Oh and apparently saints, no. They can't enter a house uninvited. And the last vamp who was telling me this did specifically mention that he didn't see people as food."
So she was socializing with one of them, then feeding his insights to Serge? Interesting, even if he already knew December wouldn’t turn this information back on the giver. “I do not expect all of them to, or even most of them,” Serge offered. “I have met at least one, they were no monster. But if they exist here, they must be watched for transgressions.” And that was his job, just with a clear conscience on extermination added in now. “They also ignore spilled salt. Likely crossroads as well. Fire and physical trauma will serve.”
"My thought exactly. Which is why he knows perfectly well if a single body ends up on my table because of him, he's not getting a trial." December said, and her tone indicated she was serious on that. Both about having been up front with the vampire and that she'd follow through. "He wants to help, actually. So does Mickey, I traveled with him all throughout the zombie apocalypse bullshit." she added. "But tonight, it's you and me." Because things were sticky enough with the boys. She wanted a brain break there. "Fire and trauma it is."
Hearing about the offers from her other friends drew Serge’s jaw tight even as he nodded at December’s words. She was leaving her friends behind tonight, that was good for the moment at least. “I do not know this Mickey, it is good to leave him uninvolved. I do not work with those I do not know,” he said flatly, knowing that would probably raise protest but just not caring. Serge didn’t work with anyone usually, and December was an exception because she’d clued him in to the vampires in the first place. Of course, explaining that wasn’t about to happen; it’d just come off as what it was, gratitude.
"They insisted." December said. It wasn't like she'd gone asking around for help. She just knew overprotective men. "And fine." she said, not going with protesting. She got it. If you were going to go fucking around with supernatural bullshit, maybe you shouldn't do it with someone you've never met. It was sound logic to her.
There was a huff of laughter, something edging on derision that Serge didn’t clarify as he dropped his bag to the floor. This woman had killed a vampire alone, not to mention survived the world that led to Delphi, and men tried to protect her? ’Better to let her protect herself’, Serge thought as he pushed his coat aside to expose a holstered pistol on his belt, then worked the gun and holster free and offered them over. “.45 caliber, extended clip, flathead rounds for tissue damage,” he explained patiently, “Your arm would hinder a rifle.”
December took it, and looked it over. It looked well cared for, though she did take it out of the holster and took a more in depth look, feeling the weight, checking the ammo and chamber. "Works for me." she said. It would kick hard, but she was okay with that. "So...this neighborhood..."
“We will head west and south,” Serge clarified, “Two bodies were from these streets, one on Sage and one on Briar. Woodlands are dense past the farm plots, it makes for ample hunting ground for whoever claimed these lives. At the end of Briar the forest begins prematurely, it will provide proper observation of the streets for foot traffic.” Which was just methodical enough that it was one of several reasons Serge didn’t socialize much. Being able to break down hunting someone didn’t usually sit well with most people.
"...that was disturbingly pat." December noted, as she put the gun back. "Want to tell me why it is you're that good?" she asked. "I'll go with, and tonight I'll follow your plans, and if I see a tweak, I'll let you know before throwing it into play." she said. "But you said before you didn't like working with someone you didn't know. Neither do I. I don't need gorey details, but the basics would be good."
He just watched her for a quiet moment, debating what might qualify as basics. Serge didn’t flinch from the things he’d done, though he knew there were jobs that would brand him a hideous thing in most peoples’ eyes. Especially when he’d only done them for money. “I was soldier for some years in Russia, mercenary for many more, everywhere else. Expensive to hire,” he explained, “Sometimes assassin, sometimes guardian. The world changes, and clients go away. The training sustains me where they fail.”
She took that in, and after a long momnt, she nodded. If that were true, and she was inclined to believe him, then he adapted. And currently, he was in a closed dome, and seemed to want to take out threats to the populace. So, she was going to go with her gut, and trust him. For now, at least. "Let me know if you see anything I'm doing wrong." she told him, since he'd know better than anyone, probably.
“Practice loading the pistol,” Serge instructed as he stooped down to grab his bag again, “From dropping a spent clip to chambering first round, repeat these steps. Learn the feel of the gun. I will return before sunset, dress accordingly. Dark, snug, but free enough to move. Tie your hair back securely. No jewelry that can be grabbed at.” He figured December seemed keen enough to know a good deal of that already, having survived this long, but if Serge said it? There’d be no reason to allow any of it once his wishes were known. “And change your bandage before we go. If they can smell blood, do not have it be yours.”
"I'm pretty positive they can." December said. But she nodded, all the same. "See you then." she said, already going through ejecting the mag and putting it back again, checking the chamber. She'd been around guns before, that was for certain. But she'd do as instructed. She was serious about this, and if some ex merc assassin guy was going to be on board, she'd play it his way for the time being. Seemed like the best way to go.