..... (burningdown) wrote in the_dome, @ 2013-07-29 08:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | 04-06-2017, justin, justin and serge, serge |
Question Authority
Who: Justin and Serge
Where: Streets near the highschool
When: Late morning
Warnings: nonw
No two ways about it, Serge was sore. He’d expected it after the last few nights of chaos and combat, sure, and knew he’d be in rougher shape than he liked as he’d finally laid down to rest, but waking up? It was a fresh hell, one composed of vivid bruising along his ribs and back, firey aches in his shoulders and biceps, healing stiffness in his neck. It was, in fact, a normal feeling after getting knocked over and pinned by four-hundred-plus pounds of feral wolf.
And really, the only easing of it was the sore pain Serge prompted in his own limbs as he hauled another dead wolf out of the streets, silently musing over the idea that his pains made him the victor here. He was alive to feel them, unlike these beasts. Unlike so many citizens of Delphi. He’d been hard at work since sunrise, coordinating with the rest of the police to help the hospital, check for survivors, and clear the streets, and after so much effort helping these people stabilize themselves? Serge was owed a handful of time for his own wants; wants like lunch and a drink, or just a half hour without bloodied work gloves protecting his hands.
Tugging his gloves free, Serge dropped them to the sidewalk before sitting unceremoniously at the curb, digging into his little pack for a canteen of water and plastic-sealed ration pack. He sighed softly before taking a drink, watching the foot traffic of both workers and shocked citizens witnessing the aftermath: life had been easier outside of this place...
Despite the ache still in his leg, Justin had been able to badger his way into being released from the hospital. He was able to walk with minimal pain now, and he had been given plenty of medication to take with him. His leg was wrapped up, but healing well enough, and he headed home to shower and change into clean clothes.
Of course, he cursed most of the way to Eatzy's, hating that a fucking wolf had taken him down and inconvenienced him with a snap to his leg. Nothing had been right in his head since there. Everything was louder, sharper and he could smell everything. And everyone, unfortunately. On his way to Eatzy's, he caught sight of Serge in the midst of people wandering about, gossiping about what had happened over the course of the last couple of nights.
"You look like you could use a spa day," Justin quipped dryly as he neared the curb where Serge was sitting. Justin had never been a fan of authority, especially not cops, but in a place like Delphi, it wasn't beneficial to him, or his business, to get on their bad side.
“I would welcome sauna,” Serge agreed as he leaned his canteen back, “But there has been worse. This will pass.” A favorite outlook of his even for his aging body, given the world changes Serge had seen in his fifty-plus years. Many things were possible. “You were injured?” he asked evenly, nodding at Justin’s bad leg as the younger man approached. Serge’s aromas weren’t pleasant, to be sure; faint blood, sweat, gun oil, and sharp menthol permeated him in layers.
Justin might have sat, simply because his leg was aching like a bitch, but he didn't really have the energy to do it without grimacing, and Justin had never been one to want to show weakness in front of others. Not to mention the scent wafting around him was more than a little overwhelming. It had been since being admitted to the hospital, and leaving it hadn't helped anything. Glancing down at his leg, Justin crossed his arms against his chest "Yeah. I had some really energetic sex last night. Might have pulled something." Then he shook his head and glanced around the street, trying to ignore the fact that he could hear two women speaking down the block as clearly as if they were beside me. Jesus. "Nah, got bit by one of those fucking wolves. Nothing too bad, since it's healing pretty well. I'm guessing those things have kept you guys busy the last couple of nights?"
There was definitely some hint of Justin’s fight against his own senses, something curious to see but also that Serge could dismiss with his injuries. That may have given him leeway with other injuries, but Serge had to consider December’s fears; the bats had carried a new pathogen, who knew what the wolves might be carrying in their blood and spit? “There has been work, yes,” he agreed in a quiet tone. “You are lucky to have kept your leg, as well. But we are rallying, and there will not be another night like the first.”Or remotely close, hopefully. If he could hunt these things and the vampires? Serge could do his part until the doors unsealed.
Justin would have probably volunteered to hunt the rest of the beasts down if he was able to move quickly. As it was, he didn't feel like experiencing another encounter with a pair of wolf fangs. It wasn't likely he would have Zania there to help him, and having already been injured, Justin was aware of the fact that any wolf that happened upon him right now would finish him off. "How many?" Justin asked, still scanning the houses and landscape around him. Something wasn't right. He could smell every ounce of oil and blood on Serge, it seemed like, and the noises around him were so loud he could feel a headache starting to throb behind his eyes. "How many did you kill?"
Maybe there could be relief found, if the smell of Serge’s food offered any as he opened a sealed pouch of peanut butter and started dabbing crackers in. “Seven all told,” he answered Justin, devoid of bragging or bravado in the answer, “Most of them with assistance from others, these beasts die stubbornly.” And with how many dead he’d seen, Serge knew this was more than any pack outside of tundra wolves, which raised his old question he’d posed to December, Mannix, and Mickey. “It begs the question of how they have come here. Such large beasts, so many of them... is not like bats.”
Seven. Jesus, that was a lot of wolves, and there was the obvious possibility that seven wasn’t the total number of what was actually roaming around the dome. Justin had the vague wondering if Serge, or someone else, had killed the wolf that had bit him. “They were bigger than any wolf I’d seen before,” Justin said, not remembering much, as it had happened in the dark, but remembering enough. “I’m starting to think people ought to be questioning whoever’s in charge of this place. This shit’s been happening with the dome doors closed. Doesn’t make any sense. How long can you ignore a growing body count?”
“Ask Kruschev,” Serge answered, as dry a joke as there could possibly be, and without any change in his expression to hint at it. “But we must ask these questions carefully, it is a fine line between seeking truth and causing unrest. There is already danger here, people in revolt would help nothing...” And as a cop, Serge had to be aware of that balancing act more than most. He wanted the attacks over, wanted the doors unsealed, but trying to force any of it to happen would only create more chaos. And the more of it there was? The greater the risk to Corey. “But I will share what answers I find, Justin,” Serge assured him evenly, “I had planned to stop at your diner soon, perhaps I will have something worth sharing when I do.”
Revolts under a locked dome would absolutely cause problems. That wasn't to say Justin was against it. He didn't want people getting hurt, but setting a curfew wasn't going to make the problems go away. People would want answers, or to see real action taken by those in positions of power. If it didn't come, people would get restless, and scared, and those who were in charge inside the dome would only have themselves to blame for any panic and chaos that ensued. "Sometimes a revolt is needed," Justin said after a moment. "If nothing changes. It just depends on how many die before people take matters into their own hands." He rubbed the nape of his neck and glanced down at Serge again. "You need anything just come on by. Can't promise to help hunt the bastards until my leg is healed, but hopefully by then, there won't be anything left to hunt. And if there is, well... maybe askin' questions carefully isn't going to get the job done."
Serge definitely could’ve argued the necessity and effectiveness of revolt; he’d seen communism in full swing, seen an occupied Afghanistan twice, and how little any uprisings had done to affect either. But he wasn’t a man who argued, or even spelled out warnings over such thoughts, and more than that? He got why Justin would even consider it. He just wasn’t going to let it happen on his watch... “I will ask my questions on my own time, after Delphi is secure once more,” Serge assured him instead of sharing any of his thoughts as he rose stiffly to his feet at last, “And with proper care, your leg will mend well before we speak again.”
He’d have time, given how long Serge planned to go out each night and continually make sure there were no wolves. Or vampires preying on citizens, for that matter. But until the distant night when he could believe that? Work wasn’t going to get done lingering to talk. “You will excuse me,” Serge requested curtly, folding the ration pouch shut tightly, “I am sure there are still carcasses, they will not remove themselves.”
There was the problem Justin tended to have with authority, cops in particular. That sense that they were the be all, end all to the law. Serge could ask his questions on his own time, and Justin would ask his now. It seemed ridiculous to impose a curfew, thinking that was going to stop the body count from rising. It would be interesting to see how many more people got hurt before someone in power stepped forward to answer the real questions everyone had. "Sure thing. Stop by the diner soon," Justin said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "We've got some decent coffee these days." He saluted Serge before turning away and heading back in the direction of his home.
Serge knew derision when he saw it, and even if it was low-key here? The unfelt smile and salute definitely fit the bill. Which was fine, he didn’t need to be liked or understood in his methods. He needed to minimize the body count. “I intend to,” he called after Justin, thinking of his intention to visit Zania again soon... the truth would come out, for good or bad. And as Serge had told Justin? He would ask his own questions, on his own time.