Weld struggled to find something to say, failed.
Clockblocker went on, “Kid Win and I stopped some lunatics in gas masks from mixing ammonia and bleach into a poison gas. You know why? They wanted to off the people in an apartment block so they could loot the place and stay there. There’s people going fucking crazy out there, and you’re talking training.”
Fucking hell. Yeah, I think I see your point, Clocky.
“I didn’t mean now,” Weld protested, backpedaling, “I was thinking in terms of the future. The training would be something to look forward to, after this crisis has passed.”
Fair enough, though it’s evidently not what you should’ve opened with.
“You’re assuming it’s going to pass,” Shadow Stalker replied, her voice tired. “Some are saying this is the way things are going to stay. I almost agree with them. This isn’t the kind of city that bounces back from things.”
Honestly, knowing this story, this setting? They might be right.
I’m losing them. “I can’t believe that. We’ve got to have hope.”
Hope is at an all-time low in this city. I agree, you should do your best to bring some of it back, but don’t expect everyone to agree with you.
“Pull a fifteen hour patrol out there, then come back and talk to me about hope,” Clockblocker spoke. “You know, I could almost play along. Go with the blind optimism, say yippee to training. But you don’t even mention the guy you’re replacing? A few words for the dead? It’s a matter of respect, bro.”
And there it is.
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