dualislogs | ya gotta wanna be a battering ram

Entry tags:

ya gotta wanna be a battering ram

WHO: The entire dang city.
WHAT: Dualis Days, a week-long summer celebration.
WHERE: Central Square Park and the rest of the city.
WHEN: June 17-23.
WARNINGS: Terrorist violence, likely some blood and injuries. Please warn in individual threads!

June 17; Central Square Park.

Every year for as far back as anyone can remember, the start of summer is heralded by the week-long festival known as Dualis Days. This celebration officially kicks off at midday in the middle of Central Square Park with a commencement speech by the current mayor. This year marks Marcelina Dubanowski's third term as mayor of Dualis; she is an average-sized, middle-aged human-presenting woman with blonde hair styled in a short bob and a plastic, toothy smile that never seems to turn entirely off.

"Welcome, one and all!" she begins, with the practiced cadence of someone who is quite comfortable with public speaking. She invites all citizens, new and old, to spend the next week indulging in festivities in all districts of the city and getting to know their neighbors a little better. This is a joyous time of celebration, and the crowd responds with enthusiastic applause as the mayor finishes her speech and introduces this year's parade marshall, Peshtigo Tengfei.

Tengfei blows a whistle six times to signal the start of the parade - and this is where the celebration goes sideways.

A loud explosion tears through the air, and it's followed by panicked screams and the sharp screech of microphone feedback. A bomb has gone off at the platform where the mayor was standing, collapsing the wood and tearing it to splinters and dust. Chaos erupts in the gathered crowd, and as the people shift in all directions to get clear of any possible additional bombs, a loud siren cuts through the cacophony, calling attention to the sudden crackle of video feed present on all television screens throughout the city, including those set up in the park to broadcast the mayor's speech for those standing far from the stage. The picture is plain, a black background and bold white block letters filling the screen:

WAKE UP
WAKE UP
DON'T BELIEVE THE LIES

The final image is an anatomical graphic of a human heart, displayed for about three seconds, and then the feed goes black again.

Confused murmurs sweep through the crowd as citizens resume tending to the injured and evacuating the area until official first responders arrive.

June 17-23; aftermath around the city.

Dualis Days continues as scheduled, though Mayor Dubanowski is unable to enjoy the festival, as she is spending the week in the hospital recovering from her injuries. A team of Iterations guard her door - no visitors allowed - but the news media frequently report updates on her condition. Nothing to worry about, folks! Return to your celebrations, and don't mind the increased visible presence of the Hand as Iterations are stationed every few blocks throughout the city. It's only for your protection, after all.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The robot would have been careful anyway; programming not allowing for the level of revolt that Hank's world had since facilitated, so it wouldn't have stepped on her. Hank, who has little experience with electronics, climbs down from the horse.

Hank's a pretty stocky guy despite the padding he's gathered during his depression, so he reaches behind her back and under her knees. "Hold on, sweetheart. Gonna move you over out of the way of traffic." He picks her up to easily carry her over to a bench.

Once he's set her down, he leans forward with his hands on his knees.

"Think she's gonna need a medical officer. Most of the ones here seem to know something about mods." He picks up his radio to make the call.

Most robot 'animals' (specifically giant robot spiders) in his world tend to lose control, break, and attempt to kill, so Squall is just taking some precautions. At least Hank appears and acts human. Squall is getting tired of the robot presence.

He follows Hank to the bench and just hovers awkwardly, nodding at the suggestion and crouching to lightly touch the girl's malfunctioning knee. He's never seen anything like this before. The human body integrated with metal parts and wires.

He blinks when he realizes the girl is staring back at him and he awkwardly offers her a small smile back.

"You'll be fine. This man will get you some help."

He'll hang around till someone can come by and the girl has been safely helped (and not kidnapped!)

"Yeah, thanks for helpin' out, by the way." He says as he hooks the radio back into his belt. God look at this mess.

"Prosthetics are way more subtle than this back home. We're just getting into mods for enhancements," he mutters. He can't tell which is supposed to be which here. He can't tell if her parents just decided she wasn't fucking good enough or if she went through something awful. He's not going to pass too many judgments until he knows which.

But she does seem scared with her knee locking up.

"Don't worry, kiddo. I busted up my knee pretty bad once. I got lucky and had people around to help me out, too. We'll get it taken care of."

Squall's smile only lasts as long as he's keeping eye contact with the little girl. It seems to help calm her. It doesn't even cross his mind to wonder where her parents are.

He shrugs off the thanks.

"Sure." But it's what he said after that catches his attention. If the Head is to be believed, everyone in this city has been brought him from different worlds but the mention is enough for Squall to eye Hank with more scrutiny.

"The ones I've seen aren't this advanced and it's expensive." He stands slowly, giving the girl a pat on the head. "How long before the medic gets here?" Can they be trusted?

"Most of the cops are like pretty decent people. She'll be fine."

Suggesting that Hank is from a world where that's not always the case. But he says that in a lowered voice, straightened up and leaning away from her, arms crossed. "We've had a stronger medical presence since the explosion so it shouldn't take someone long to get here."

And even the mayor standing on the platform seems to have come out surviving, at least for the moment.

"Seems like everybody's taking it pretty well." Which bothers him a little. The world is back to being good and fine. When Markus pulled his stunt, most people still seemed alarmed within the next few days.

Squall nods. "A stronger presence in general too..." he trails off from a slight mumble, eyes trailing to the obvious robot enforcers. He already got picked out once for asking too many pointed questions so he's not keen on actually getting arrested.

"Mind control maybe," he suggests casually. The last time he saw a crowd behaving strangely complacent in the face of danger, it was in the presence of a sorceress. He's eyeing Hank again, staying close to the girl still but giving them some privacy to talk.

"Have you been a 'cop' long?" Law enforcement tends to be the army where he's from or civilians, so he's mimicking Hank's terminology.

Hank turns and looks at the robots, frowns a little harder, and grimly thinks about their lack of sentience. These guys, he doesn't even think are capable of it.

"Right." He mutters. "I mean not counting them. There are plenty of the flesh and blood sort out." He sighs.

"Here? Fuckin' started this week. Before that? Workin' on three decades worth." He steps back a few strides, watching either direction. Way further down the route he sees someone that might be who they need make their way over. They're just dealing with invasive crowds that don't know how to part. Same in every world, he guesses. He pats the horse and it turns to face the person coming so they'll know where to stop.

"I don't think it's mind-control. Not your standard mind-control, anyway. I think it's just a lack of empathy and extra privilege. They just believe it when they're told it's fine because they don't wanna realize it's not fine." Still cynical as ever. People do a good job of mind-controlling themselves.

Still, he's unwilling to let the little girl hear that he doesn't think things are fine.

Another nod. Flesh and blood don't seem all that bad in comparison. If they're as compassionate as Hank seems to be (at least with children).

"So you were brought to this city recently too." There seems to be a few of them around. Displaced. Kidnapped. He follows Hank's gaze. Help. Good. He's starting to feel a bit more hopeful about that.

He frowns at that explanation. By the Head's words, everyone in this city are taken from their home worlds. How long does it take to make people this complacent?

"It makes no sense when everyone here came from different worlds. We need to know more about this city. How long it's been populated." A pause as he looks over an Iteration. One which is creepily staring back at him. He glares at it. "Maybe it's more than just willingly burying their heads in the sand." Ruling an entire city with an iron fist isn't that farfetched if they have these robots under their control.

"Yeah, still pretty new. Decided to become an officer because that's what I've been trained to do and what I've been best at. Didn't think I'd have a crowd of people near a bomb right off the bat. But first responders did a good job."

At least the success rate was far greater than what Hank expected, from recent reports.

"Yeah, I've considered that." He nods. "Does seem pretty weird. They got a lot of people here from a lot of places. No one's told me too many stories yet about where they come from." That aren't new, anyway. "I probably should ask around more often."

Edited 2019-06-23 15:43 (UTC)

Squall idly touches the spot where he'd been hit by shrapnel. An injury that healed almost as quickly as it would have with magic.

"Mm," he crosses his arms with a thoughtful frown. He supposes they did though he was too busy distrusting them at the time. "It wasn't a big bomb. They were targeting the mayor."

He shrugs at the suggestion. "Maybe you'll have better luck. A robot harassed me when I asked too many questions.

He watches as a medic approached, studies him for a while before he steps aside so he can check on the girl.

"What did that robot do?" He sounds interested.

Admittedly he'd never liked it when reporters asked too many questions. He'd tell them to fuck off. But there was always something disgustingly impersonal and capitalist about it. A search for the best clickbait headline possible.

"And what did you ask?"

He really, really wants to gauge the amount of information they're holding back here.

"It insisted that I 'enjoy the festival'." Squall folds his arms as he watches the medic do his work. The guy is being professional about it, even making the girl smile a few times. "I was asking someone about their history and the city's. If there are dissenting factions around."

Very much ignoring the robot still looking his way.

"Sounds about right." Hank watches as they fix up her leg. Me step forward and quickly triple checks and makes sure that they're contacting her parents. Honest to god, three times. The medic is giving him irritated glances by the end of it, epic side-eyes.

Paranoia of a man who lost a son to an accident, everyone has to suffer for it.

"Sounds like there might be some dissenting factions in the city's history, if you ask me." As if they didn't fucking use a whole bomb just to tell them that. "And then one just spoke out in quite possibly the fucking stupidest way it could."

He'd seen this done right. He'd seen the cry out to the city work. He's got to investigate this his way.

It's refreshing to see an adult actually treat a child like a child. Squall is so used to being around other orphans and generally just not having any parents around aside from school faculty who are more intent on them following school rules.

"If they're aware of them, security should have been tighter." It was pretty lackluster. "I tried searching the network, they glossed over the explosion and no one mentions the vid-- Shit."

Hello, Mr. Iteration.

Squall's immediately defensive as the robot comes their way. His hand held to the side as if he could will his gunblade into place this way.

Smoothly, probably far too smoothly, Hank turns around to look at the iteration when it gets pretty close. He's aware he can't mouth off to these things as much as he'd like to. Because he just got this job, he's still feeling it out and most of the staff with a brain cell feels respectable. However? He can look directly at the approaching iteration.

"I need to report some possibly faulty parts manufacturers. The medical guy took the serial numbers but if that's kids bits and bobs were fully upgraded she shouldn't have been stumbling around like that. Who would I go to about that or are you guys strictly perimeter and patrol today?"

He puts his hand down at the same of himself as Squall has lowered his hand, equipped with the eye of a cop used to watching for people going for weapons, and waves his fingers there, hoping Squall notices. Don't give them a reason. Don't look for a weapon that's not there. Just seem chill and bored with them.

Squall is still tense but he sees that gesture and understands what Hank is doing, so he forces himself to relax. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and slouches his soldiers, putting on the best surly teenager who doesn't know any better look.

The iteration pauses to watch Hank, paying him some heed by virtue of his affiliation.

"Report any official matters to headquarters. My duty is to enforce the peace." It turns back to Squall. "You have been cited once for attempted verbal disruption of the peace, Squall Leonhart. This is your final warning. It is recommended for all citizens to partake in the festival. Entrust your safety to the authorities. All is well."

Squall twitches in annoyance but nods, forcing himself to keep his head down. "I will. Sorry."

The iteration continues to bore its eyes into Squall before turning away to return to its post. Squall's scowl just deepens once its back is turned.

These guys really remind Hank of why he used to hate androids. Hank claps his hand on Squall's shoulder. "Come on. I'll show you one of the food carts that was decent."

Something that was said bothered him more than he wants to admit there. People being recommended to enjoy themselves no matter what. Hank Fuckin' Anderson, who spent the last three years in a depressed hellpit, knows all too well you can't make someone enjoy something if they damn well aren't in the mood for it. And some of these people aren't in the mood for it.

"Hey, look. I'd assume for now that anyone who knows about anything going on? Gonna stay far away from those things. But I'm not gonna bullshit you and tell you to go get some cotton candy."

He grabs the reigns of the mechanical horse to get it come along with them rather than climbing back up on it.

There's no love lost for Squall either. He's been attacked by several murder machines in his lifetime by now. It's just a bonus that this one happens to talk. He doesn't like the implications of it all. Just shut up and obey and keep his head down? That doesn't sit well at all.

He shoots another look at the Iterations to make sure they aren't paying attention to him again as he follows Hank.

"Good." Maybe Seifer was right though. They have to bide their time here if they want to make any progress. He sighs. "I'll find another way. This just means they have something to hide."

He's giving the horse a look like he wants to try touching it though.

"At least keep in mind that sometimes governments do this for more than just control. So just be careful how you approach it."

The horse clops along, and other people have already patted it, so Hank finally notices Squall looking, though. "Go ahead, it's pretty light metal for such a heavy looking animal" Animal. Even though it's not really one. But he decides then to add more to his previous explanation.

"There was a big problem ten or so years ago- actually it went on for decades, but laws were finally passed to control it -in my world with people going into churches or mosques or schools or fuckin' shopping malls and just blowing stuff up or shooting people or mowing them down with cars and then they'd leave some note saying, 'I'm showing the truth' type of shit. When it wasn't that. It was them showing their ass and doing a dick-measuring contest with the last guy that hurt a bunch of people.

"So as much as some public outrage and curiosity would be nice, might be better to do the questioning on the down low until we know, because these guys might not deserve the attention they're after. Everyone should absolutely question what goes on around them. They shouldn't act out until they have facts instead of suspicions."

Squall looks at a loss when Hank catches on to what he's thinking. He rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly before moving the few steps close to touch its 'mane'. Definitely metal but softer than he expects. He smooths his hand down along the neck of it for a moment before stepping away again. The marvel in his eyes fading when he does.

He was listening though. And the behavior is so strange that he has to take a moment.

"They killed people just because they can?" Who the hell has that much free time? Isn't war enough? He looks ahead with a deeper frown.

"I won't trust a city that kidnapped its entire population from other worlds for DNA, but I'll keep off their radar when I ask around next time." And he does intend to. Even without information, he can at least gauge what the citizens are like.

"Yeah. Some of 'em claimed it was for some other reason. Reading a bunch of shit on racial superiority or being mad at all the women that turned them down or thinking that if they didn't, their religion can't win or somethin' like that. But that's just an excuse they make to themselves. Almost all of the time you could go back in their search history and discover they'd crunched the numbers on how much they could do versus someone else who did the same."

Hank's still cynical about the whole thing. Even years later.

"Good call. On both fronts. I don't think they exactly do much of a screening process when they bring people in, either. Helpful DNA does not necessarily indicate a helpful person. Could be a top stock fit and healthy piece of shit," he grumbles, as critically as everything else he says. But he is genuinely glad to hear that there are people determined not to take things at face value. Generally, he knows most of his world went wrong because people were way too quick to write off both where each other came from, and the general problems of their entire society.

This fuckin' big head might think it's doing good but people can kill each other through willful ignorance, and a hard turn of world can end up in a lot of dead just through a well-maintained false sense of security.

"That's stupid and a dangerous way of thinking." Sure there are people who have always been on the more violent and psychotic end of things even where Squall is from but these just sound like civilians hurting people because they can.

"I'm not going to waste my time if the bombers here turn out to be idiots like that." Hurt them maybe and turn them over to the authorities. "I have friends waiting for me back home and a job to do." A job he doesn't want to do but he's kind of stopped resisting the whole idea of being a commander.

He folds his arms, gripping tight just out of frustration. "There's too much we don't know about this place."

"Well, we've not been here for ages. So I don't think you can be blamed for not knowing everything when you're not even sure where five fuckin' public toilets are and where you can buy an emergency charger when your battery is running out. But hey, if you've learned that then you've at least caught up with me."

He gives Squall a sympathetic look. He can tell the kid wants to figure stuff out and do the right thing. And he knows that he can't judge by age here. Just, in his experience, kids are usually the easiest for extremists to prey on.

"You seem pretty young for a guy with a serious sounding job." It's more an invitation to explain than a doubt. "You're kind of acting like someone that's used to watching out for trouble."

Squall blinks in confusion. Public toilets? Why is that important... Is he joking? He taps at his pocket at the mention of batteries though. Right. His phone. It'll take some getting use to having this around.

"I'm not worried about those," he says instead. It's just troubling how hard it is to find anything relevant to their enforced stay. The observation does have him eye Hank for a moment. The man seems genuine enough and he wants to get to the bottom of this too. That's enough to qualify for an ally.

"I'm the commander of Balamb Garden. A school that trains mercenaries. Everyone in the school is around my age or younger." Child soldiers. Always a joy. "We just ended a sorceress war. There's a lot to do."

Mostly a joke, because that's been the question he's fielded most from random people during the festivities so he had to make a point to know. But also an example of how little they're still acquainted with the world when they've not figured out some of the more simpler aspects yet.

"That a choice or a requirement?"

Wait, a sorceress war? What the fuck?

"No sorceress wars where I come from." He swears to fucking god if Gandolf is named anywhere in this conversation he might just go fuckin' chuck himself off a building and assume that'll wake his dumb ass up.

ya gotta wanna be a battering ram

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

PSL account woopsie

I saw nothing

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)