NIGHTSHIFT 42: MAGUS PARK
The shift was familiar enough, in it's own way, but it came too soon. He wasn't sure if any of the others in the group aside from Stefan had been around long enough to witness this before, but he wanted to reassure them that this was just like the changes the institute underwent at night
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Sanzo took the moment to take a small breather and touch his forearm. Four sets of bloody trails down it, deep, and tenderness around the wrist. The thing had nearly broken his wrist before it'd let go. For being dead, they had an unnatural strength about them. Maybe it was becausae they'd no longer had any real survival instincts or the limitations that came with it. No sense of self-preservation, no pain, which meant zero fear and a higher strength if there wasn't any fear of breaking bones or tearing muscle at this point.
Maybe he'd misjudged. They might not have the brains, but there was plenty going for them that made them dangerous. And just his luck, the creatures weren't the only thing he had to worry about now. Now he had to keep an eye on Takasugi.
"I know you do," Sanzo said. He gingerly touched the wounds. The skin around the wrist was suspiciously tender. "All this anarchy, chaos, killing? It's right up your alley."
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Getting out of here wouldn't be easy. That was for sure. He would have to move faster and avoid anymore of those run-ins. One or two- he could defeat on his own, but if they tried to swarm him, he probably wouldn't escape unscathed.
He eyed the wound on Sanzo's arm, impressed that they had managed to get close enough to harm him. It looked like it was pretty deep, and he wasn't acquainted enough with the creatures to know if they were venomous.
"You're assuming too much of me," he replied after a moment, his eye surveying the area again, "I obviously had no part in this, nor do I enjoy being the victim in this situation."
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He hadn't peg the man as having a sense of humor, but apparently there was a twisted one buried in there. Takasugi'd compared himself numerous times to a wild animal with a taste for blood, and when was there much reasoning involved in a feral's mindset, outside of self preservation? Maybe this wasn't his doing, but who was to say he didn't enjoy the carnage anyway?
The monk tore a strip from his shirt and wound the makeshift bandage around the wound. It was awkward, but he managed to tie it off, tightly. It wouldn't do much towards healing the wound, just hopefully stem the blood flow enough and prevent the blood from getting in the way. It'd have to do until for now.
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The institute wouldn't just rest here when they had the rest of the night to send their forces against him, and considering the amount of patients held captive, their forces would have to be exceedingly large to take care of all of them.
"So easy to cast accusations without knowing anything. I thought a monk would be more perceptive than that. I'd rather this carnage come from my hand then be turned against me. Killing the undead has no worth to me. They're not the ones I desire revenge against.
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"Stop bullshitting. You said it yourself, you just like to kill," Sanzo said flatly. When did he need much of a reason? Of course, Takasugi'd like to be the source: sowing fear and confusion amongst people went hand in hand with that taste for blood. Terrorists claimed that they had some message, but he'd pegged it shit. There were other ways to get a message across, and terrorists only resorted to it because they also had a taste for the violence and death they created. The excuse was just that. An excuse.
Takasugi admitting to that didn't exactly set Sanzo at ease or make him think any better of him.
Maybe he didn't get the same feeling off killing these things. They weren't exactly alive. Maybe he just preferred to have a mind, actual fear behind those eyes when he did make a kill.
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He was neither the kind of man to allow anyone to put out whatever fires raged inside of him. His ambitions weren't so easily quelled, and he refused to accept death at their hands.
"What is there to enjoy from these creatures? They don't bleed when you cut them. Their nerve endings have already decayed." His eye remained focused on Sanzo as he absently ran his finger over the blade, demonstrating the lack of blood on it. "Why do you suddenly seem so interested in my killing habits? Didn't I already tell you? I only aim for my enemies, and you are not one of them."
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Takasugi was also decidedly armed now. Doubly dangerous.
Here he was allowed to run as free as he wished. The monk'd seen enough of the man's nature to make a judgement. Sanzo didn't like the thought of him running around unchecked. He was dangerous. He was about as clean as Gonou was. The only difference was Gonou'd accepted their justice, realized he'd committed crimes and actually cared.
"Your word is about as trustworthy as any other criminal," Sanzo pointed out. "I'm sure you've fed the same bullshit to your partners before you turned your sword on them."
That last was a shot in the dark. A terrorist probably didn't work alone: there was only so much one could do on his own. Takasugi hadn't made any real indication if he was the type to build loyalities or try and fly solo.
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Even if Takasugi self-proclaimed himself to be nothing more than a beast himself out for blood, he had control over his own actions. He knew which battles to fight and which ones to save for another day. That was why he had yet to turn his sword seriously against the Shiroyasha and Katsura, even though they'd been proving themselves to be a growing threat to his plans. Of course, some of his men had suggested otherwise -that he was still "attached" to them and refusing to cut down those delicate strings that linked him, but they didn't understand what the three of them had gone through.
In some respects, they were the only living reminders he had of Shoyou-sensei. They still carries his words in their minds even if they no longer listened or followed through on them. Were he to suddenly slice away that clear voice...
Takasugi's hand tightened on the blade, his smile starting to fade. "If I turned my blade against any of my allies, it's because they have diverged from our path. This is no longer a world where a man can rely on others and call them a comrade without expecting to be betrayed."
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Takasugi's look had chilled noticeably, dropping that aura of friendliness (the monk wasn't even sure he'd call it that) he normally put on. Sanzo must've touched a few nerves. Was he actually affected by what Sanzo saw as just stating the obvious? He'd count himself as surprised if there was a the tiniest hint of self-righteousness in there. Maybe there had to be for a terrorist.
Whatever. He had no illusions that they'd ever work together, or that Takasugi was even an innocent bystander in all this. He might not be the source or even connected to all the bullshit going down in Landels, but he was a danger.
Low moans broke the air. Sanzo glanced over, regarding the park for a moment.
He was beginning to rethink this area as a good place to last the night. He could see the ground breaking, more corpses lurching up further up. Was the entire damn town built over a cemetary? At this rate he'd be surrounded again. He couldn't fight like this all night, not at the rate they were coming up. It was time to change plans, hole up in one of the buildings.
The monk turned to leave, but not before giving Takasugi one last look.
"I haven't said anything new," Sanzo said coolly. "You say you're nothing more than an animal one moment, then try and act like a man the next. Pick one."
[Headed over here]
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