Message #40725

[CrazyHobo]

(Yes, awful lot of talking with little action. Like I said, it's improvised)

- Maria, you don't have to worry about a thing. You'll stand behind a reinforced door, so he won't be able to harm you. All you have to do is keep him company, just talk to him. It's lonely in the cell and he could sure use a person he could speak with. Be a nice girl already, help everyone out. We're trying to help the guy cope with some trouble in life, but he doesn't trust us.
- I do wonder, whether it has something with you all carrying a gun or two on you. You know, Kurt, I may look like a silly girl, but I'm not that naive: you want something from this guy and you just need me to get it out of him. Afterwards, you'll just get rid of him.
- Now why would you say that? Maria, we help people. We offer shelter for starving survivors, we periodically purge areas from infected, we teach people how to defend themselves. You gotta understand that we're the good guys.
- Yeah, you're very good...at lying to me
- Maria, I don't have the patience for this. You have a job here and it's your duty to help us out. Go in there and talk with him.
- *Sigh*, well, if orders are orders....

*some time later*

Hobo was sitting in a seiza stace, meditating on himself. His eyes would often twitch and hands would shake, as if he's struggling with himself. His thoughts were centered around the demon inside him, slowly gripping at his sanity. Hobo had to give much effort to remain sane, which proves to be harder with each passing day. Slowly falling to despair, he thinks what to do, before finally succumbing to his bloodthirsty rage.

Suddenly, Hobo's meditation is interrupted by the loud opening of a door.
Light footsteps, not like the soldier's heavy boots plunging into the ground. These were light, barely detectable, as if someone is touching the floor only with the tips of their feet, almost attempting to move silently.

He gazed at the glass door infront of him, an object he greatly resents: it's reinforced, can't be broken with anything....though they are vulnerable to explosives, even small ones. But that is an instrument, that Hobo does not possess at the moment. Too many times has he tried in vain to break the door, only to fall on his knees, admitting defeat to it, to the amusement of the guards....

Someone was coming this direction. Without anywhere to hide, Hobo just sat there, waiting...

A woman...no, a girl in her early twenties approached the glass door. Not short, nor high: about 170cm high. Well groomed brown hair, a rarity in the days of the outbreak, a pretty face, blue eyes, like the sky before the outbreak (something, that Hobo remembers vaguely), wearing a plain white T-shirt and blue jeans...washed, another rarity these days.

She stood there, looking at him, but her look seemed uncertain, whether she knows what she is doing. Hobo looked back, but his look was that of no interest. This went on for a short time, until Maria broke the silence.

- Hey there.
No reply from Hobo. After an awkward silence, Maria clutched her lips, looked at the ground, as if hoping to find an instruction there, then spoke again
- Usually, I'd say "how are you?", but I can already tell, that this isn't your best day in life.
No reply. Maria was getting lost with the ignorance Hobo gave her, she just doesn't know what to say to a guy, that keeps silent.
- Hmm...nice beard you have there. You must have been giving it much attention.
Raising one eyebrowe and letting out a sigh, Hobo finally spoke
- Standart interrogation process, using a innocent looking person, most often a young girl, to gain the trust of a person....How predictable. They must be growing desperate. I find it ironic, that this is a method I would often practice during my days and now it's being used on me.
- I'm not an interrogator.
- Then why are you here?
Maria seemed a bit lost with the question: really, why was she here? While she was trying to make up a response, Hobo spoke again
- This is an area, where only high ranking personell are granted access. Last I checked, there aren't that many high ranking operatives, who are barely twenty.
- Well, maybe I'm a rare case?
- Then you must either be a highly manipulative person or a security guard with expertise in psychological combat. In other words, an interrogator, which you said you're not. So who are you then?
- Well actually, I'm just a pharmacy clerk. My job is to simply provide people with the medicaments they need...what little we have left anyways.
Silence entered again. Breaking her nails, as if nervous, Maria spoke again
- Must be lonely here?
- Loneliness is an ever present companion in life. You either learn to live with it, ignoring the pain it brings, or suffer from it's sadistic nature.
- You seem like a wise man.
- Would I be in a cage, if I were wise?
She didn't know what to say to this.
- Why are you here? - asked Maria
- Does it matter to you?
- No, I'm just trying to keep up the conversation...and I admit, I'm failing to do it.
- You should take some public speaking lessons...oh, I forgot: the tutors are mindless zombies now.
- Heh, very funny.
- Like all things in life are.
- I hardly see anything funny in this. The world's hell now, people are starving, while infected pound on their little havens, slowly taking them away and growing in numbers. To add that, people are still fighting each other, with all the clans fighting for worthless pieces of land.
- They're not exactly worthless. A big hotell makes a good base of operations, while warehouses have some lootable goods to steal, like food and medicaments.
- And it's worth killing each other for those scraps?
- Well, we've been doing it for the past 6 thousand years without the infected. Nothing has changed, really, aside from the zombies...so yeah, it's probably worth it, if everyone is still doing it.
- It's a waste of lives, if you ask me. At least we are trying to help people. We organize free lunches, provide shelter and train people for tasks to help everyone in the end.
- You do know, that you're not helping humanity with any of this?
- How's that? We're keeping people alive, how is that not helping humanity?
- Well, I'm guessing there's the difference between us: you help people survive a few more days. I help humanity survive this entire crisis.
- By killing them?
- Humanity's survival is not based on the numbers of people, who survive, but on their quality.
- You sound like one of them Black Dragon zealots, who claim to kill people in the name of some greater good, which is a stupid dragon.
Hobo chuckled at this statement. This girl is amusing, though incredibly naive. With all his words prematurely planned, he replied to her:
- Well, only true survivors can make it past this crisis and enter the next step in evolution.
- And what are you, a true survivor?
- Every Black Dragon Agent is.
Maria starled at this response. She heard stories of how BD agents can survive through even impossible situations, and of their unnatural cruelty towards others. The reinforced door did not bring Maria any sense of security. This guy has probably killed hundreds in the past years. Maria stepped back.
"Just talk to the guy, so he don't feel lonely. But, Kurt, you forgot to mention, that he's a maniac, who kills people in hundreds" - thought to herself Maria.

Hobo was amused. He watched at Maria's frightened face with a sadistic smile, feeling satisfied with what he had done: the seeds are planted, it's only a matter of time for the to grow.

His satisfaction was interrupted by his own cough. Hands began to shake once more....It's starting again.

Maria watched, as he was shacking, as if trying to hold something within himself, his eyes becoming bloodshot red and growling in a menacing tone. In an instant, Hobo let out a heartbreaking warcry and lunged at the door, bashing at it mercilessly, like a vicious predator tears his prey to pieces.

Without a moment to waste, Maria ran, not wanting to find out, whether the door will hold this beast.....