dualislogs | 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

Today was a lesson in how difficult it was to keep one's balance with his arms bound to his sides by a makeshift harness made of many many leather belts. Squall really wasn't amused by whoever found it funny to have him wake up like this.

Having been misdirected in his attempts to get to the dorms, he was now heading towards the park where it was getting harder to keep his distance from the growing crowd. Then as luck would have it, he stumbled and fell right up against Aleifr's back with an undignified 'oof'.

As would also be his luck, with the way the crowd kept surging forward anyway, he was having trouble righting himself.

"Dammit-"

He's not the first person to jostle Aleifr. Hard to avoid contact in a crowd like this, even if you're not as big as he is. Usually, though, turning and glaring at whoever's run into him resolves the problem. Most people are quick to offer an apology and give him a wide berth rather than risk pissing him off.

He turns to do just that, but, well ... this one's a little more than oblivious. Somehow he's gotten himself bound in some contraption of leather thongs, and he doesn't appear to be comfortable in it considering he's about to fall over.

Before the strange little man can topple to the ground, Aleifr's hand shoots out and grabs him by the front of his clothing. He doesn't exert any visible effort pulling the man forward, onto more stable footing.

"What in the fuck are you wearing?" He asks, looking over the belt-harness with some fairly obvious confusion.

He is not little!! It's a comparative thing. Squall's eyes fly open at the sudden but rough aid that ends with him standing on both feet again. He breathes a sigh of relief, tugs at the belts again, and the sigh becomes exasperated.

He's not used to having to look up that far. This guy might give Ward a run for his money.

He scowls at the question. "I'm stuck in it. I woke up like this," he corrects and no one has helped so far. He doesn't expect any different at this point.

An answer that doesn't impress Aleifr, judging by the arched eyebrow it gets in response. If he sleeps heavily enough that someone - presumably friends of his who thought it'd be funny watching him stumble around - could mummify him in belts, he could sleep through a great many things he should probably wake up for.

No matter, though. He's clearly stuck, so Aleifr leans forward to examine the tangle of leather the man's wrapped in. Everything's looped back in on itself, clipped onto other belts ... no easy place to start untangling it by hand. It'd take a fucking age, so he decides to go for the more expedient route and reaches for the knife on his belt with a sigh.

Squall would be a lousy mercenary if he slept through this normally. Actually, he'd be worried if that was the case. It's creepy enough waking up on a stone slab to talking sphinxes in a temple. He half expected it to be another encounter with Guardian Forces at the time.

He reluctantly holds still while Aleifr examines it, instinctively ready to lash out if the large man does anything funny.

Reaching for a knife definitely qualifies and he shifts back warily with a frown.

"What are you doing?"

Aleifr's just met him. He doesn't know whether he's a good mercenary or not.

He lets out another sight as the smaller man backs away, slightly more annoyed.

"You want to be out of that fucking thing, or not?"

Squall eyeballs Aleifr again before reluctantly stepping forward again. He swears if he gets stabbed because of this...

"If you're really helping, yes."

"If I wanted to fucking gut you, why in the hell would I do it here?"

They're surrounded by more people than he knew existed. It'd be a piss-poor plan.

"Because nobody cares. I've been asking for help since I left that temple."

Aleifr can see how successful Squall was.

"If I stabbed you, they'd notice."

Blood, screaming, a giant fucking knife -- all of these tend to draw attention.

Squall tchs. It'd be interesting to find out if anyone here would react to actual violence but he's not going to be the guinea pig for it.

"Just do it..."

All the invitation Aleifr needs. He pulls Squall over to him, inspects the tangle of belts one more time, and slips his knife underneath one of the belts that makes up the outermost layer. He turns the blade so that the cutting edge is facing him and works it back and forth until it's carved a deep groove into the leather, at which point he tears through it with one clean tug.

Then he goes to work on another, and another.

As much as he wants to get out of this harness, it kind of pains him to watch these perfectly fine belts get torn to shreds. Better them than him though. He lets out a sigh of relief when things loosen enough that he can move his arms and proceeds to tug and yank at the rest to see if he can tug the whole thing off.

He grunts when he can finally pull the belt harness off and throw it aside, rubbing at his stiff arms after.

"Thanks..." Guess the guy isn't so bad after all.

"You're welcome." Aleifr replies as he slips his knife back into it's sheathe.

And that's about it in terms of a verbal response. Might not be so bad, but he's definitely not chatty.

Squall sighs and finally takes in their surroundings. Some kind of event. Festival? The park is filling up.

"What are you celebrating?"

ya gotta wanna be a battering ram

Wildcard - before the bombing

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