dualislogs | (no subject)

WHO: Hank Anderson | NPCs | Open
WHAT: A hunt for information and a desire for good whiskey. People can also find him at the boardwalk or drinking at the bar.
WHERE: A speakeasy on the boardwalk
WHEN: Towards the end of July
WARNINGS: 🎜🎝 Hank's mouth needs washing out with soap. Suicidal tendencies.

Hank usually tries to tie up his hair while he's at work. He's still not cut it. It's a holdover from years of depression. He didn't fucking feel like cutting his hair so other than some beard maintenance he just let that mane happen, and mentally he's still not found the place to chop it all off. Now he just keeps it in a half-ass high ponytail with half of it hanging out while he's on the job, like a heavyset loose samurai. Now he's just got it down, looking like his usual casually sloppy shaggy dog self in a bold shirt and a well-worn jacket. At least he looks like he belongs in a bar drinking.

The boardwalk is only mildly busy. It's a weeknight, people are off work, the food is cheap but everything isn't lit up like a James Cameron daydream quite yet. Give it a half-hour. There are rows of little restaurants and game booths and a few hole-in-the-wall establishments down little turn off side-streets. The places for grown-ups to go while the kids play.

That's when Hank first finds a bar that he's heard a couple of claims about. Maybe bullshit; a couple of the other bars he's also checked out have been bullshit. But fuck it, another place to get whiskey, right?

Another holdover from three years of depression.

The old detective (former detective, maybe future one) settles himself at a distant side seat on the bar, somewhere where he can see whatever the live stage performance is when it starts while he tends to a neat whiskey.

He draws the attention of a scaled woman next to him as he downs his glass without so much as a flinch and pushes it forward for a refill. No sign of the notorious whiskey face. He's scalded that reaction right out of his throat. He might as well have a fuckin' booze callous the way this nigh on toxic shit doesn't phase him.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

As long as it's edible, Squall's not complaining. He's a little surprised Hank is offering to buy. Then again Hank has been confusing him for a while now, by virtue of being different from the adults in his life.

"Uh, sure." He'll pick one of the boneless finger foods so he won't make too much of a mess. He refuses to dirty the cards. Once they're settled in at a table, he places his deck on the table and starts to sort out some cards, idly thinking about how to start off a beginner.

"What were you looking for?"

Luckily Hank's gotten himself a sandwich. Not too messy, so long as it doesn't fall apart. He settles down across from Squall as he arranges his deck, crunching into a bite. It actually takes him a bit to chew and swallow before he responds.

"Trying to figure out who the heart is. And when I figure out who the heart is, I want to figure out who set that bomb.

"And maybe the truth about this 'wake up' business."

He shrugs lightly, taking a sip of cheap fountain drink. It's bright orange in color.

"I don't know yet if they're all behind it, if it's a big group, if it's a small group, if everyone was on board. If one or two people were. Even if they should be brought in immediately when apparently even raggin' on your fuckin' boss gets you censored." Terrorism deserves a hell of a punishment. But it deserves a punishment chosen by a just legal system. Not a giant head. He'd like to at least see that they're... he doesn't know. "I just don't want to see some Big Brother bullshit going down- meaning brainwashing on top of a surveillance state."

Squall makes sure to wipe his fingers clean on a napkin before he arranges the cards. He arranges five low-level monster cards for each of them, placing them face up to each of their left sides of the imaginary board. He looks around, finds straws and starts setting up a 3x3 grid on the table.

He looks up at 'brainwashing' with a grim expression.

"I don't think they should be taken to the authorities." But he's immensely distrustful of the city. Brainwashing just seems like a logical next step. "Did you learn anything so far?"

With the setup complete, he resumes eating for a moment.

"Yeah, well... Since I like being a cop? Don't tell them I said that. Having some pretty liberal thoughts about perps really helped me out in Detroit but I don't think I'll be forgiven for saying shit like that, here."

But. "Alright, you said you were lookin' for opposing groups, right? Heart's been around for a while, and what happened in the park wasn't their first bombing. They hit up some train stations and left some fliers around. 'Wake up', on 'em, like with their other stuff. They might have been around before that."

He'll let him know more later, as he can.

"If you find out something about 'em, let me know. I'll play ball and do the same for you."

He looks down at the cards.

"Alright, so what do I do first?"

A nod. Squall isn't about to tell. He can see the value of having Hank around as a cop here. There's no ruling out it could be a trap either but it's still too early to call that.

"Don't risk your job if you can help it. It sounds like the Heart is trying to get people to look for them." Which he can't really blame them with how much surveillance there seems to be. "You'll know if I have something." He doesn't yet. Oddly enough, he feels like he can trust Hank enough to work with him.

He wipes his hands clean again and starts to explain the rules. The four numbers on the top left corresponds to each side of the card and are called ranks. They go from 1 to 9 with the highest rank being A. The symbol on the top right represents an element but he's disregarding that for now. The point of the game is to capture as many cards on the board as possible. When cards are next to each other, the card with the highest rank captures the other. He lines up two cards side by side as an example.

"We take turns placing a card. There are regional rules but we'll stick to Open, which means we can see each other's cards and plan our strategy. The winner can get one, some, or all of the loser's cards depending on the trade rules. That doesn't matter here though."

Hank eats his sandwich as Squall explains, then swallows. "Okay, so if I put a card here, and the bottom number is higher, then you'd have to flip yours. Just yours or what would happen to other connected cards. They stay the same?"

He points to the cards while he asks.

As he's getting this general idea, though, Hank shrugs. "Yeah, I don't plan to risk my job. I know that a lotta people that wave signs and scream at the sky got their own ways, but there were people back home that did a lot with respectable positions. A school worker could take a kid on a 'field trip' and let 'em stay in a place out of harms way. This one factory owner let people sleep there between their shifts because they couldn't be removed from his property. A guy who ran immigration slipped a lot of innocent people out as relief and medical workers. Used technicalities to keep people out of harm's way.

"I don't know what I could do but if they're willing to go electrocuting people that weren't doing anything but standing there, I need this fuckin' job, no matter what it represents right now, just so I can try to keep that shit from happening as often as I can."

He doesn't yet know how justified the actions are. He does know that people even passively perceived as being a part of the Heart are at risk of getting the shit kicked out of them.

He points at the two cards. "Only the numbers on the sides facing each other are measured against one another. The 8 here-" He taps at the card on the left side with the number 8 facing the right. "Will go up against the 7 here." And the other card whose number 7 faces the left. He adds another card below one of them. "If I place a card here, then the top and bottom numbers of the two cards face off instead."

"Open only flips the card next to it. To flip the cards next to a captured card, we'll have to play by Same and Plus rules. That's a little more complicated for beginners." If they play often enough he'd be happy to help Hank figure those out too. "It's easier to understand once you play. Think you got it?"

He sips his drink. "Do what we have to do even though we don't agree with it, because we're in the best position to," he agrees absently. "Just be careful they don't brainwash you."

"If someone were to brainwash me, I wouldn't be me. And I'd not hold it against anyone to have to do what they fuckin' have to do."

Words from a man who has little attachment to his life, though. One can't sacrifice something that's not really valuable to you.

But he puts down a card and attempts to take a three with a four. "Like that?"

Squall hesitates to answer immediately, so instead he watches Hank's card placement and nods.

"That one's yours now." He looks at his own cards and places a 6 against a 5 on the same card. "And I take yours."

While he waits for Hank's move, he finally says, "You might still be. I didn't realize a friend was brainwashed during the war. We weren't friends then... but we grew up together. I thought he was taking things too far but I still thought it was him."