ya gotta wanna be a battering ram

[headandhand]

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.

Comments

[cadiastands]

In what should come as a surprise to no one, the man in charge of the shooting gallery proves entirely uninterested in picking a fight with a seven-foot Viking covered in tribal tattoos or with the cranky woman who can out-aim a slightly rigged carnival game, and he finds something very absorbing to do with the more minor prize inventory on one side of the booth.

"It's...hmm." Needing to explain the function of a gun is a surreal experience for a Cadian. It's as fundamental a part of her understanding of the universe as gravity or the Eye of Terror. Mira sets down her unicorn and reaches out to settle the toy gun into Aleifr's hand properly. "When you squeeze the trigger," she taps the component in question, "it causes something to fly out of the muzzle," another tap, "and into whatever you're aiming at. It's like a bow, but easier to use."

[aleifr]

Aleifr allows her to adjust his hands, briefly glancing up to ensure he's doing it right before following along with her brief lesson.

Once she finishes, he looks up again. She's got his attention so far and he's very keen to familiarize himself with this thing, but he does have one more pressing question.

"What's it shoot?"

Because he didn't see any projectile fly out of the muzzle when she was shooting at the little ducks.

[cadiastands]

"This one's a training weapon, so just light," Mira says, not realizing that if she has barely any idea what infrared is, Aleifr has no chance. "Real guns shoot bullets, or--" She stops short when she does realize that lasers and bolter rounds are going to take a lot of explanation. "Let's stick to bullets for the moment."

[aleifr]

He doesn't know what a 'bullet' is, but he's still stuck on that first bit.

"This uses light for arrows?"

He glances down at the little hunk of plastic and metal in his hands, and then at Mira. His eyes narrow slightly as he searches her face for any signs that she's fucking with him, and when he finds none ...?

His eyes widen. His seemingly permanent scowl lifts for a brief moment as, once again, he finds himself wondering what sort of world he's come to where people can harness light like the fucking gods themselves.

[cadiastands]

Not only harness it, but use it for children's games.

"It's harmless," Mira says with a shrug, not quite reading Aleifr's reaction correctly. "Good for basic small unit training, but you'll learn bad habits if it's the only thing you shoot with.

"Especially with the sights that sloppily aligned." If looks could kill, the carnie sorting through a bin of trinkets and trying to pretend Mira and Aleifr aren't there would have a smoking hole in the middle of his back from her narrow-eyed glare.

[aleifr]

Something that makes the device in his hand more impressive and disappointing all at once, frankly.

"Your 'bullets', then. They're the real thing?" Lethal, he means. Real weapons.

[cadiastands]

"Yes. They're like..." She pauses, trying to come up with an analogy, "...sling stones, but made of metal, and far more lethal."

[aleifr]

Aleifr can't help but chuckle at that. Her people can throw exploding arrows across the horizon, and their warriors use jumped-up slings. He's sure they're a hell of a lot more complicated and impressive than whatever he's picturing - something Aila would drool over, no doubt - but he's amused by the image nonetheless.

He looks away from the stall in front of them and glances up and down the row.

"Figure they've got proper ones somewhere around here?" He wants to see one for himself.

[cadiastands]

Mira huffs, but lets it go. She can't explain caseless ammunition and muzzle velocity to someone who didn't know what a gun was before this conversation.

"Emperor on Earth, I hope not," she says, horrified by the thought of any of these civilians with a real weapon.

[aleifr]

Aleifr briefly glances in the direction of the carnie and concedes the point with a shrug.

"Fair."

Ordinarily he'd argue against her. Coming from a world where you learn how to defend yourself or you die young, seeing how woefully prepared they all seem to be for any sort of fight would makes him think they need every advantage they can get ... but the level of competence the locals have shown doesn't make him feel comfortable with the average citizen of Dualis being armed.

Then his brain snags on something she'd said a moment before.

"Earth?"

Thats the second time he's heard that name recently. What does Steph's homeworld have to do with the Allfather?

[cadiastands]

"Holy Terra?" Mira tries, not sure just how heterodox the Wolves have let Fenris become. "The world humanity comes from, where the Emperor sits on the Golden Throne."

[aleifr]

Aleifr's eyes widen a little.

"Never knew the Allfather came from anywhere. Just knew that he came down from the stars with a purpose for his Son."

He'd heard of men and women from worlds that hung about different stars. He knew that Upplanders existed, even if he'd never met one himself - nor had he ever met anyone who had. He never would have counted the Allfather among them, though. Upplanders were men, the Allfather was more. He was like the summer or the winds of winter- He didn't come from any place, He simply was.

Stood to reason that the Allfather would have a seat, though. A hall for those who served Him in life and death.

He just always thought it'd be on Asaheim.

[cadiastands]

"He's always moved among mankind, but He didn't reveal Himself until it was time for Him to bring an end to the Age of Strife and unite humanity," Mira says. It's a novelty to have to explain the Imperial Creed to an adult. "The forces of the Enemy scattered His sons among the stars, and He sought them out to lead His Legions in the Great Crusade to create the Imperium, ten thousand years ago. Russ was the second to be found."

[aleifr]

Novel is a good way of describing it.

It's a lot to absorb, even if it fits into his understanding of the world in places. It wasn't like the pieces of a puzzle clicking into place, but rather an unfurling map revealing a larger picture. What he already knew fits into that larger picture well enough that his own natural skepticism doesn't push against it. He doesn't know what the 'Age of Strife' was, or what caused it. He doesn't know why the Allfather launched this 'Great Crusade', or who this enemy he warred against was ... but it does make sense to him.

What would you need a man like the Wolf King for if not to make war, after all?

He's not sure that he believes it yet, but it rings true and she clearly does. Once again ... she has his attention.

"I want to know more." Aleifr says after a moment. "But not here. Any story worth telling is told better over a drink."

[cadiastands]

"All right," Mira agrees with a shrug. Better than standing around while he ogles a toy gun. She retrieves her unicorn, more as a matter of principle than from any real desire to retain possession of the thing, and looks around for a bar or even just a booth selling watered-down beer over-salted chips.

[aleifr]

No shortage of those. Aleifr almost feels spoiled for options until he sees someone buying a beer from one of the nearer stalls receive a plastic cup that can only be described as insultingly small.

"Are they asking for coin to sample their ale, or do Upplanders just not drink?"

[cadiastands]

Mira chuckles at his disgust. "It's just festival pricing. Captive audience and all that. If we go a few blocks out we can probably find a real bar that isn't watering down the drinks."

[aleifr]

"They're watering down the drinks too?" Aleifr scoffs, shaking his head with undisguided contempt. "Some fucking celebration.

[cadiastands]

"Come on, then," Mira says with another laugh, setting off towards a cross street that will take them outside the festival proper. "We'll find somewhere that doesn't offend your delicate sensibilities."

[aleifr]

This time, Aleifr laughs. More of a short, really, but it's the best you'll get out of him.

"Call it whatever you like." He replies as he starts to follow. "When I ask for a drink, I want a proper fucking drink."

[cadiastands]

"A man with standards." Mira's voice still ripples with amusement. She turns at the street corner, taking them away from the park, and as they walk, the crowds begin to thin out until it's only the normally bustling sidewalks of a popular tourist destination.

"Ah, that looks promising." She points at an A-frame sign standing outside a restaurant's door, its simple electronic screen displaying SOUP OF THE DAY: WHISKEY in a bold font above a hand-drawn glass filled with brownish scribbles representing the whiskey in question.

[aleifr]

He'll take her word on how promising it looks. Considering this is the first bar he's been to, he's clueless as to what makes a good one.

"Whiskey?"

And about a few other things as well, apparently.

[cadiastands]

She shrugs. "I've never heard of it, but it's some kind of alcohol. Every city in the Imperium has a tavern that makes that joke."

Inside, it has the requisite dim lighting and bottles arrayed across one mirrored wall, various glasses hanging from specialized racks above the bar. The chairs and booths are plusher and in better repair than average--this is a nice section of town. Spillover custom from the festival has the place comfortably full, but there are still open stools at the bar, and Mira makes her way over to a pair, setting her unicorn on the bar top as if daring someone to comment on it.

[aleifr]

"Ah."

He's beginning to understand why this one looked promising.

Inside ... well, first and foremost, anyone who might have felt inclined to comment on her unicorn is more concerned with the scowling, heavily-tattooed giant following on her heels - though all of them decide to busy themselves with their drinks as his eyes scan around the room.

He settles onto the stool next to Mira's. It ... it isn't very comfortable for him. It was clearly made with a much smaller man in mind, and it groans under his weight. Once it's clear that it isn't going to break, though, his attention turns to the shelves behind the bartender, packed with dozens of bottles of varying shapes, sizes, and colors.

"Fucking hell ..."

It's more alcohol than most jerks would have in their personal store.