dualislogs | ya gotta wanna be a battering ram

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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.

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"Eh, sorta. The got real high opinions of themselves an' lots o' magic an' are nigh on immortal." Yondu says. "Not as much as Celestials." Boy, what an asshole he was. He works the fingers of one hand, the one not holding the bottle, reminding himself they can still move.

Not all rebels are crazy enough to make a stink. Not a stink like this. He's sure of it. People don't wanna revolution without dragging normal people into acceptance. So there's gotta be some stupid assholes that like the idea of freedom but aren't stupid enough to wave their dicks around in public. But right now? They're gonna be quite a mess and being good responsible folk means they'll keep their mouths shut.

"I know about a lotta weapons." About half his beer is gone after the nest drink. "I reckon your school full o' kids was an easy target for people hatin' all the big dangerous ones?" Sounds like a fringe Kree thing to do. Planets used for resources and people are move valuable intact. Then you got people like Ronan the Accuser and who the hell knows what's wrong with guys like that.

"Yeah. Yeah. I know about stuff like that, too. How many of 'em died? Steady your hands an' count your fingers, before you tell me." Another drink. "Look at 'em as they are right now, right here. Count 'em."

“They were following information from the memory banks of something that came back from the future to destroy mutants,” he answers and his voice is distracted. Hates to think about it, always has, and this just makes it even worse. Nimble fingers twist the bottle round and round. Later he is going to thank Yondu, because the man is pretty good at this. Probably has years of experience with talking people down from this.

Frankly, David appreciates it. Takes the time to count his fingers and his toes and sets the bottle aside. The rolling in his stomach is getting worse and he closes his eyes to try and not see it.

“They were loaded onto buses. They were going home. Around a hundred and fifty dead. More. Children to teens. I can...”

Still see their faces. Hear their voices. Know their names. Remember their powers. How much of their skills and knowledge still linger in his mind?

“I can smell them burning.”

"Naw, you can't... You smell a wood platform burnin'." He points loosely off in the direction of the park.

"I don't mean what happened to you ain't important. Someone ruins your life? Lives around you? Turns you into a threat when you ain't done shit? Yeah, that's important. Not ten hours before I come here, I watched half my crew tossed out into space. I couldn't rescue 'em."

At least, in some miserable way, he's pretty sure he ended up with them.

"It's important. That's a helluva lot of young'uns dead. But it ain't here, not right now. Right now you got your back against a brick wall, your hand is probably just warmin' up, an' you got blood on you. Now is that your blood, a dead person's blood, or does it belong to someone who's still breathin'? Because they're what's happenin' now, where you're sittin'. Speakin' of which-"

Yondu steals David's glasses his condensation wet thumb rub off the spot of blood his glasses, expecting David to take care of the rest. He figures the kid'll take some notice.

He can smell it. Psychological. But yeah, he knows he rest of it is true. Here and now. That’s what he needs to focus on. He sighs and breathes and tries to focus. Which is easier when Yondu takes his glasses and cleans them. Not that he needs them to see. It’s just comforting.

“Thanks. It’s not mine. I have a few medical degrees rattling around in my head. I had to help. Been through this a good number of times. This just... this is harder. Seem so much worse than this. Why does this hurt so bad?”

"Reckon the difference is that then was a case where you didn't ask for none of this fight, an' this is a case where you didn't ask for none of this fight?" Yondu offers. 'Cause that's the best he can work up in his head.

"Still figure we oughta find some of 'em an' figure out what the fuck they're talkin' about. One of 'em was smart enough to hack into some big network, too."

That makes Yondu knit his brow. He's not much of an investigator, but he's all about resistance when it comes down to the wire. "An then figure out what to do with 'em. The bottle is emptied then, and he puts it down between them.

Perhaps he was right, except the fact of the matter was that David supposedly had asked for the fight because of what he'd been. Perhaps, more than anything, it was the survivor's guilt. Maybe. Hard to say, and he didn't want to pry deeply enough into it to really come up with answers.

"That's hard," he says, about the hacking as he takes the glasses and puts them back on. Really not needed, but his clothes are kind of fucked until he can get somewhere to wash the blood out. Good thing he knows tricks for that. Could really go for Billy right now to fix it with magic, but whatever. "Getting into the network. I've been trying, and I'm good. So whoever they are, they're putting a lot of resources there. As for what to do with them? How about knock them around a bit? There were kids here."

"I ain't plannin' no self-righteous vengeances until I know exactly what's goin' on. 'Cause yeah, they was kids. Could be that some of 'em didn't know what player one's distraction was. Somethin'." He rambles, the words more idly working the whole situation out. "'Cause it ain't justice. It's revenge. Justice is strippin' somebody or a bunch o' somebody's of power they don't got a right to no more. Revenge is slammin' your fist into someone's face until it feels better 'cause they ain't gonna learn shit except how to feel more sorry for themselves. An' I'm fine with revenge. Punch the shit out of 'em. But make sure when you punch 'em they leave people around 'em no room for question you know exactly what they did and you ain't gettin' played with it."

He then pulls out his arrow to tap against his hand. Always a strategic hit, this thing has been. It's useless at the moment. He's no hero. He didn't give a shit about what was going on other than it looked rough. But if he'd known, and this had been working, it'd have been easy enough for Yondu to pick him off. Without anyone else's guilt blocking them.

Good point. Fuck, David doesn't want to hear a good point right now. He wants to be mad, because it's easier than being scared and locked up in that old wound that was working so hard to stay reopened. Justice was better, he knew that. Most of the time. With a sigh he pushes to his feet, though, looking toward Yondu. Considers the arrow a bit too.

"That thing work? I know my glasses fried when I arrived here. I guess it doesn't matter. Thank you, Yondu. Sorry that our second meeting was such a... mess. I need to... I don't know. I need to be doing something right now. I think if I keep sitting here, I'm going to backslide."

Yondu can absolutely get behind being mad, because being mad can still be tactical. Harder to do when you're scared. Vengeance? Definitely not out of the realm of a man that's had to teach lessons to a crew full of untrustworthy bastards.

But it seemed to help.

"Nah. Somethin's wrong with it. Can't figure it out." He whistles and the arrow floats above his hand, but it wobbles in his hand. So he just grabs it and holds it again.

"The fin on my head was a prototype meant to increase range from my original. Got the original shot by a bitch with a chip on her shoulder. I had this one put on in a rush. I figure thisn' musta broke or somethin'. Can't make it go much of nowhere."

“Maybe I could look at it for you sometime. I’m pretty good with computers. Granted not enough to crack this place. Yet.”

Still, that whole thing is absolutely intriguing. Fuck does he want to get inside it. But he doesn’t have the tools. At all. Which he really needs to look into because he needs to fix his glasses.

“At least you came through with it. All I had was a wallet with some useless money and these glasses which i’m going to have to put serious time into repairing.”

"Yeah, it was in my belt."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a strange little bejeweled looking frog, and a fucking troll doll.

"Had these on me, too. I could only grab a couple before my ship first went. I keep a bunch of 'em on my control console, figured I'd grab the best 'uns while I could. They got brought here with me.

"Tell me if you see any good'uns by the way."

He seems to be entertained by this. But for a man that used to be a slave, having tiny things that are just his and no one else's and are useless and fivolous is kind of nice. Besides, they're small and easy to transport.

Yeah, totally saying this to a guy with blood still on him.

“Wow, am old troll doll. Those things are collectors items these days. You’re pretty lucky to have one. I found one in a thirft store as a kid once. Kept it by my bed for years.”

The little thing makes him smile and he nods an agreement. He absolutely would keep Yondu appraised of knickknacks now. Or in the future. Right now he stretched a little.

“Thanks. I should get moving. Hilariously, I am trained in post trauma therapy. I should mingle and provide what support I can.”

"Is that what this is? This is what Quill gave me. Somethin' from Terra when he left." Left. Not 'Yondu took him', which is the more accurate version of that story, even if it has complicated stipulations. "Troll doll, huh? Good to know it's valuable."

Though he wouldn't care. It came from his boy, and that's much of the value right there.

"Just 'cause you're a medic don't mean you can brace your own leg if you break it." He puts the two strange little objects back into his pocket. "You wanna take a look at this, though, I got a room in that building they stashed us all in."

“Same, but I’ll call ahead. Well, message,” David smiles as he stretches a bit. “Thanks for the beer, Yondu. I’ll pay you back sometime.”

And David is a man of his word. He’ll repay Yondu somehow.

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ya gotta wanna be a battering ram

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A good wrap I think