[Open]

[histruename]

Characters: Hellboy and YOU!
Date: April 1st through the 6th
Location: All over the place.
Situation: Hellboy wanders around trying to be useful.
Warnings/Rating: None.

As signs of sickness settle over Tu Vishan, Hellboy finds himself getting more and more agitated. There's not much he can do about the dying trees in Wood, or the black mold that creeps and consumes the Water Sector like a death shroud. The place is literally falling apart around him, and he's feeling pretty damn helpless to stop it.

Meanwhile, the office he opened in the Metal Sector sits empty. He's already gotten into a few tiffs over rent with the guy he leases it from. Money is tight, and everybody wants more of it. But agreeing to pay a higher fee will keep the guy off of his ass for now, at least until he runs out of money. Or until he decides to close the place down.

So that leaves him pretty much broke. But worst of all, it leaves him sober. Two years spent chained in the bottom of the ocean taught him he really didn't need to eat or drink to survive, but hell if he really even wants to think about that. He doesn't want to think about a damn thing. But having no money to waste on liquor doesn't leave him with a whole lot of options.

And what does Hellboy do when he can't metaphorically run from his problems, you ask? He does it literally, of course. So here he is, trudging his way across Keeliai, looking to stumble upon people who might actually know how to fight this environmental disaster and offer help if they need it. But most of all, he's just looking for a distraction.

Feel free to swing by the office in the Metal Sector; the one with the sign above the door that reads "Paranormal Investigation". Or you can find him wandering around the most diseased parts of the turtle. After several days of traveling, he'll wind up down by the exposed shell of the turtle's edge, looking out toward the sea. The mainland is a hulking grey ghost lurking on the horizon, drawing nearer by the hour. There, he lights one of his last cigarettes and waits.

Comments

[angermanaging]

"I haven't been out there yet," he answers with more visible interest. Since it seems like he's stopping to have an actual conversation, Bruce carefully sets the hand reader down on top of his notebook and pen on the smooth, crackled shell before rising to his feet. He's a little achy from crouching for too long, and might as well use the chance to stretch his legs.

"I haven't been here long, so I'm a little... wary to go out too far. But I'll have to at some point. I'm trying to get a sense of the, the extent of the corruption, too." He gestures down to the supplies at his feet.

[histruename]

Like reflex, Hellboy's gaze turns toward the direction of the sea. The salty ocean breeze is like an invisible compass, a silent beckoning to the shore.

After spending two years in chains at the bottom of the ocean, you'd think it would be the last place he'd want to be. But it calls to him, pulls at his bones with longing, dark and deep. It's the type of longing that wormed its way into the hearts of old sailors, of those who have lived and suffered the ways of the sea, and have seen her secret mysteries.

O, Stormy, he is dead and gone...

His tail lashes slightly behind him, and he frowns at the echoes of memory. Gone, but not forgotten. This is exactly what he doesn't want to think about.

What he wouldn't give for a drink.

"Don't try heading out to sea and you'll be fine," he says, his gaze drifting back to the man. He nods at the device and notes piled on the ground. "Find anything?"

[angermanaging]

Bruce notices the frown and the tail lashing, eyes drawn to it from pure curiosity, and realizes that there's more behind his opinion on the ocean than he's saying. But if he doesn't want to talk about it, he's not going to pry, and he nods in acknowledgement.

"Nothing new, just confirming what I already found. I'm getting some weird readings around here, but they're so subtle I'm not sure if it's mechanical or human error, or actually significant." His voice gains confidence and quickness as he talks about the technical, much more at ease with it than regular socialization.

"To make a long story short, I'm testing the mass density of the turtle. Irregularities might indicate the spread of the corruption."

[histruename]

"Any way of finding out what's causing it?" He asks, only grasping a general idea of what the guy's talking about. Another strong breeze off the ocean kicks up old dust, stinging skin and rattling the husks of grass like a breath shuddered through a dying throat. It's heavy and cool with the promise of rain.

Sure, ask any kedan and they'll say the turtle's sick. But sick isn't very specific. It's hard to tell what stories of pointing fingers at the Foreigners are true, or if it's all just speculation in the first place. Sometimes people just need something to blame. Hellboy knows that better than most.

He just wishes there was something he could do about it.

[angermanaging]

"I couldn't tell you the definitive cause from what I have right now," he responds, "but if these readings aren't due to error, then there's some sort of tumor inside the turtle. Though I hesitate to use the word tumor, because I don't know what it is, exactly, just that there's pockets of differing density from the expected norm."

This is actually a lot for Bruce to say at once, who is naturally a taciturn person. He stops, gathering himself again, swallowing. He realizes he doesn't even know who (or what) this guy is, but he's always felt that information like this should be public, and shared.

He finishes his thought with, "What it does mean is that the sickness could be due to some sort of-- of cancer. I don't know, turtle biology isn't my area. But my current data would support it."

[histruename]

"Great," he sighs. Definitely don't like the sound of that. If this guy's right, that means there's really nothing anyone could do to fix things aside from magic. And he just really hates magic.

It's about then Hellboy realizes they never made a proper introduction. He's pretty used to being instantly recognizable, so it's a habit he's still getting used to.

"Guess I haven't introduced myself yet. The name's Hellboy," he says, offering the guy a left-handed handshake. It's awkward, but when your right hand is ten times the size it should be and made of stone, you learn to use the left for obvious reasons. "You knew around here? Can't say I've seen you around."

[angermanaging]

There's a moment's hesitation not just for the fact that it's left-handed, but because Bruce generally doesn't like to touch people. He gives into the courtesy, though, not wanting to be rude, and offers a brief handshake. It's not tentative, despite the fact that most people would probably be at least a little reluctant; it's just reserved.

"Bruce Banner. I am new, not even a full week yet. I just, thought I'd jump in feet first with researching. I'm used to looking for impossible answers." It's a drastic understatement, because if anyone knows how to be undaunted at difficult to answer questions, it's Bruce. This one he thinks he might even find an answer for, unlike his own questions, which he has a thousand of. But Tu Vishan is a mystery more easily solved than the Hulk, as seen by the fact that he already has made a little bit of progress on it.

"What do you do around here?"

"Knew" That sure was a typo

[histruename]

"Lately? Not much," he says, scratching at the patch of hair at his chin. Things have been on a slow decline ever since the turtle got damaged. He's not really sure who's to blame for the real reason the turtle's health is failing, but he sure as hell knows he's pretty damn helpless to stop it. "I set up a paranormal investigations office down in the Metal Sector, but things've been pretty quiet since the zombies."

and I sure was super late... sorry for the delay!!

[angermanaging]

"I heard about the, uh, zombies," he says, looking visibly uncertain what to make of it all yet. Bruce's previous experiences with the unbelievable all had to do with what was inside of him, and briefly, recently, with Emil Blonsky exhibiting the same symptoms; all of this is a little beyond him, and it's requiring adjustment.

"What does... paranormal investigations do? Is that what you do at home?" He can't help but be curious. The fact that he has no frame of reference for the idea as a legitimate profession, and not a hoax, means he's interested in the answer.

[histruename]

Things like zombies, or the paranormal in general, aren't something most people are familiar with even in his own world beyond movies and fairytales. At least not for the lucky people.

The Bureau was pretty good at keeping things quiet. People talked, sure, but even then most people took the stories with a dose of fantasy. There were some people in his world that even thought he was some kind of hoax despite seeing him all over the news. But people had their own ways of coping with things they couldn't quite wrap their heads around, and that's fine by him. Denial was probably a better state for most people.

But here, they aren't most people. Not with the things that have happened. You can't really ignore something like zombies falling from the sky, or the entire city being invaded by poltergeists. You had to prepare for it the best you can.

"Yep," he replies, nodding. "It's exactly what it says on the tin. We go to places people report having weird crap going on, check it out, and take care of the problem if we can."

A odd smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, hardly recognizable with his strange, angular features. "Don't worry. It's a hard thing for people to wrap their heads around even where I'm from." And the sciency types always seemed to have the hardest time with it.

[angermanaging]

Bruce is adjusting pretty well, in that he's not incredulous of anything he's heard in a way that truly doubts that it's possible, he's just exasperated with how little sense it all makes. The universe is meant to be consistent, and this is anything but. It seems like every person here operates on a different set of rules, and it means he can't predict or understand anything except on an individual, case by case basis. He's had this frustration with his own mutation for years, but having it suddenly crop up everywhere makes him a little long-suffering.

"I'm, well, I'm wrapping my head around it, I just don't know anything," he says with a slight laugh, running a hand through his hair. He's not embarrassed to admit his shortcomings. "There's... a little of this at home, but it's not-- occult.

"What do you usually investigate? I'm guessing not just ghosts."