oh reckless, a boy wonder (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gramarye) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
multiversallogs2012-01-02 10:46 pm
gramarye) wrote in multiversallogs2012-01-02 10:46 pm
Entry tags:
the bloodiest cadaver marked in your words
Who: Bruce and Wolfgang
What: In case anyone needed a reminder that you all live in a police state.
Where: Bonetown
When: Sukkardi? or... like, whenever. We're good at timelines in this game.
Notes: (10:45:11 PM) batclaire: and make it like a really serious plot with this humanform rescue greyhound and kermit.
Warnings: Violence, police brutality
Wolfgang keeps his head down. He's not close with much of his Cohort since he rarely interacts on the Network, but otherwise he's a well-liked, respected citizen -- polite, friendly, kind-hearted, a little odd, but who in Baedal isn't. The fact that he's been spotted more than once at some of the seedier bars in neighbourhoods like Griss Twist mostly goes unmentioned, because there's nothing to fault him for in any other aspect of his life. He's a little flakey but he's been doing well at his jobs and even babysits for his neighbours on occasion; he teaches the kids to build little things or lets them play 'king of the mountain' with him as the mountain. He volunteers with the House Ecumenal and the university. They know his name at all the local pubs. Every other day, he gets shawarma from the street vendor down the block.
He is not unaccustomed to living a double life. He had erased all vestiges of his past long before this, and Baedal is even farther away from home than anywhere else he's lived, an exile among exiles. There isn't the slightest chance of anyone finding out who he is or what he's done unless he tells them, and he likes it that way. He can be confident in his ability to take some secrets to his grave.
Anyway, they say that the past is just a story you tell yourself. Is he less of a person for having burnt those bridges and built something new over them? Is this any less real if he omits certain facts? The ones he remembers, and the ones, more troublingly, that he does not -- it doesn't change who he is as a person. It's not relevant, he tells himself, over and over, it doesn't mean anything.
But there are certain undeniable facts of life he can't avoid. One of them is the matter of the medication he needs to keep his symptoms down -- and then the medication he takes to deal with the side effects of those medications. The problem is that Baedal is not at the same technological level of his homeworld -- in some areas it's more advanced, in others, less so, and the trouble is that some types of medicine can't be produced naturally on Baedal and taking substitutes is ill-advised for certain types of highly addictive, heavy-duty pharmaceuticals, which can have permanent and devastating effects when stopped cold turkey. What can't be made in Baedal has to be imported. Official stelanmancy is expensive, especially when you're looking at monthly imports for uncommon items, and he just can't afford it.
So he finds back doors. There's a group in Bonetown known to handle unofficial imports, but when their prices are too high, he goes even more underground -- which also carries a higher risk as they're not just targets for the Sheriffs and Militia, but also their competitors. He was pleased to find a pharmacy right in Bonetown offering, on the downlow, certain medication he couldn't find elsewhere and were costly to import, and he's been going there for the last couple weeks to get what he needs, nor is he the only one there for the same purpose. The place has the benefit of looking unremarkable, he could just be here to pick up a legitimate prescription. He's bumped into some people who know him here, and he's explained to them, in their innocent, sympathetic curiosity, that he has "migraines" for which he takes prescription medication -- and to be fair, he really does get migraines.
It's just that what he's looking for is a powerful antipsychotic.
There's no reason for anyone here to suspect that tonight is going to be anything out of the ordinary. Besides Wolfgang, there are two employees present and several other people waiting in line, including a mother-son pair he's met before. He doesn't know if they're here for the same reasons he is, not that it matters to him, and probably most of them are here to pick up legal prescriptions. It's a little expensive here, but as it's in an area with a bunch of duplexes that house families, it's more convenient for them than walking several blocks away with kids in tow. There aren't any train stops in Bonetown.
Everybody jumps when the back door slams open and someone screams when shots are fired. They don't hit anybody, but what kind of lunatics fire in a small, crowded room as a "warning"? The girl in front of him immediately drops to the ground -- she's not unused to danger like this, he'd follow her but one of the uniformed men who just rushed in has grabbed her by the arm and hauled her up hard enough to twist her arm and suddenly he's frozen in hesitation. Instinct is screaming at him to do something, but common sense is telling him to cooperate and maybe they won't beat the shit out of you, too, you idiot.
It occurs to him several seconds too late that they know. This isn't some random attack by a bunch of loons; this is a raid. By the police.
There's no time for hysteria at finally being caught, although that's something he'll likely indulge in later should he not get his dumb self killed, here. Some kid is shrieking; he's close to the door, he could flee, but he can see a dark-clothed, silver-hooded figure raising a baton and his stupid self turns right back around and reaches to intercept it, like the absolute bloody idiot that he is. "Wait!"
Too late he feels a pushing against the fog his mind feels shrouded in anymore, the fog that slows his reactions down enough so that he doesn't see anyone heading in his direction. He feels a sort of release swiftly followed by a horrible, painful tearing sensation, like someone ripped a hole in whatever passes for his soul. His hands go to his head as something explodes near the Militia agent he'd been trying to disentangle from that kid's mother, and he can't see anymore, everything turns all sharp edges and bright colours before, mercilessly, bleeding into one another. It feels like his brain is burning; it occurs to him that he has felt this once before, just not here. It's not the city but whatever makes Bonetown unique slamming him back with whatever thing he just tried to do.
Somewhere distant, he can hear the word arrest. He can see, in brief flashes, the college student working the cash register shoved against the counter and handcuffed. That's all. Someone shoves him to the ground hard enough to knock all the wind out of his lungs, not that he was breathing much to begin with, and he has just enough time to bring his hands up to protect his face while the Militia agents respond to his 'assaulting an officer' (was that really him?) and 'resisting arrest'.
That cracking sound must have been his skull. He wonders if he really needs that.
He is not unaccustomed to living a double life. He had erased all vestiges of his past long before this, and Baedal is even farther away from home than anywhere else he's lived, an exile among exiles. There isn't the slightest chance of anyone finding out who he is or what he's done unless he tells them, and he likes it that way. He can be confident in his ability to take some secrets to his grave.
Anyway, they say that the past is just a story you tell yourself. Is he less of a person for having burnt those bridges and built something new over them? Is this any less real if he omits certain facts? The ones he remembers, and the ones, more troublingly, that he does not -- it doesn't change who he is as a person. It's not relevant, he tells himself, over and over, it doesn't mean anything.
But there are certain undeniable facts of life he can't avoid. One of them is the matter of the medication he needs to keep his symptoms down -- and then the medication he takes to deal with the side effects of those medications. The problem is that Baedal is not at the same technological level of his homeworld -- in some areas it's more advanced, in others, less so, and the trouble is that some types of medicine can't be produced naturally on Baedal and taking substitutes is ill-advised for certain types of highly addictive, heavy-duty pharmaceuticals, which can have permanent and devastating effects when stopped cold turkey. What can't be made in Baedal has to be imported. Official stelanmancy is expensive, especially when you're looking at monthly imports for uncommon items, and he just can't afford it.
So he finds back doors. There's a group in Bonetown known to handle unofficial imports, but when their prices are too high, he goes even more underground -- which also carries a higher risk as they're not just targets for the Sheriffs and Militia, but also their competitors. He was pleased to find a pharmacy right in Bonetown offering, on the downlow, certain medication he couldn't find elsewhere and were costly to import, and he's been going there for the last couple weeks to get what he needs, nor is he the only one there for the same purpose. The place has the benefit of looking unremarkable, he could just be here to pick up a legitimate prescription. He's bumped into some people who know him here, and he's explained to them, in their innocent, sympathetic curiosity, that he has "migraines" for which he takes prescription medication -- and to be fair, he really does get migraines.
It's just that what he's looking for is a powerful antipsychotic.
There's no reason for anyone here to suspect that tonight is going to be anything out of the ordinary. Besides Wolfgang, there are two employees present and several other people waiting in line, including a mother-son pair he's met before. He doesn't know if they're here for the same reasons he is, not that it matters to him, and probably most of them are here to pick up legal prescriptions. It's a little expensive here, but as it's in an area with a bunch of duplexes that house families, it's more convenient for them than walking several blocks away with kids in tow. There aren't any train stops in Bonetown.
Everybody jumps when the back door slams open and someone screams when shots are fired. They don't hit anybody, but what kind of lunatics fire in a small, crowded room as a "warning"? The girl in front of him immediately drops to the ground -- she's not unused to danger like this, he'd follow her but one of the uniformed men who just rushed in has grabbed her by the arm and hauled her up hard enough to twist her arm and suddenly he's frozen in hesitation. Instinct is screaming at him to do something, but common sense is telling him to cooperate and maybe they won't beat the shit out of you, too, you idiot.
It occurs to him several seconds too late that they know. This isn't some random attack by a bunch of loons; this is a raid. By the police.
There's no time for hysteria at finally being caught, although that's something he'll likely indulge in later should he not get his dumb self killed, here. Some kid is shrieking; he's close to the door, he could flee, but he can see a dark-clothed, silver-hooded figure raising a baton and his stupid self turns right back around and reaches to intercept it, like the absolute bloody idiot that he is. "Wait!"
Too late he feels a pushing against the fog his mind feels shrouded in anymore, the fog that slows his reactions down enough so that he doesn't see anyone heading in his direction. He feels a sort of release swiftly followed by a horrible, painful tearing sensation, like someone ripped a hole in whatever passes for his soul. His hands go to his head as something explodes near the Militia agent he'd been trying to disentangle from that kid's mother, and he can't see anymore, everything turns all sharp edges and bright colours before, mercilessly, bleeding into one another. It feels like his brain is burning; it occurs to him that he has felt this once before, just not here. It's not the city but whatever makes Bonetown unique slamming him back with whatever thing he just tried to do.
Somewhere distant, he can hear the word arrest. He can see, in brief flashes, the college student working the cash register shoved against the counter and handcuffed. That's all. Someone shoves him to the ground hard enough to knock all the wind out of his lungs, not that he was breathing much to begin with, and he has just enough time to bring his hands up to protect his face while the Militia agents respond to his 'assaulting an officer' (was that really him?) and 'resisting arrest'.
That cracking sound must have been his skull. He wonders if he really needs that.