Finding Nemo....

[crossroaddeal]

Characters: McQueen (crossroaddeal), Argent (twoninths)
Date/Time: Sept 16, the afternoon
Location: In the wreckage of near sector 1
Rating: PG-13, for blood.
Summary: Argent comes across a bit of sticky and very gross mess. Pleasantries are exchanged.

Comments

[twoninths]

Argent was not, generally speaking, the type to get his hands dirty by choice. Even when such a choice was in an arguably noble cause. But, after inquiring a few times in a few places about whether some sort of supervisory role was available in the Sector One clean-up -- and having been told each time that there was, emphatically, not, and he should start picking up debris like everyone else -- he had given up and joined in.

Thirty minutes later, Argent's feet were blistering, and his back was killing him from so much bending and lifting, and a fine sheen of sweat was covering his nose, and Argent decided that this was all completely unacceptable. He dropped his latest load of debris in the big pile that he and the other volunteers in his part of the sector had been working on and carefully, as surreptitiously and casually as he could manage, he backed away into the more densely destroyed parts, where the clean-up had yet to reach

[crossroaddeal]

He moved, not consciously, it was gravity making slide to the floor. He could hear dull and muffled sound, he wasn't sure if it was someone talking or if it was even a person at all.
The thump of his heart was no longer drowning out the sounds around him, it had slowed down to barely noticeable pace. His right ear was plugged with congealed blood.

He had been drifting in and out of consciousness for along time, he wasn't sure how many days now. He'd lost count after 2. But light shown through the darkness behind his eyelids. His mouth was dry and still tasted of iron from his blood. Somehow he managed a to make small grunt or groan before slipping back out of conscious again.

[twoninths]

A sound. Argent paused. It was faint and could easily have been boards settling or the groaning of what still remained of the structure as the wind pushed it about. But, no, Argent thought, best to be overcautious in these situation. Best to assume it had been humanHe looked about. The path of blood was largely obscured now by wreckage and days of heavy wind and rain, so Argent focused instead on looking for patterns in what was around him: piles of splintered wood that seemed raised like it was covering someone, likely places where someone might have hidden in the storm. He seemed, now that he paid closer attention, to be standing in the middle of one of the communal showering areas. Some of the walls of the building were still standing. Pipes wobbled up into the air, becoming shower heads at the end but attached to nothing, they just stood there a row of fragile new sapling branches