Alister's storage unit

[Alister Rockwell]

"Uhhhhh...buddy, you hit your head or something? You look like shit."

Alister leaned through the window to get a closer look, resting his whole body on the sill to keep steady. "Hey, Andy, look at me?" He got one good look at his face, particularly his eyes and the glazed over, unfocused, and said, "Go to hospital. Right now. Or whatever back alley doc you can find - I... I know a guy if you need one. You are fucked, did...did a ceiling panel fall on you?"

He snapped his fingers to get Andy's attention back on him. "I think you're concussed, your head looks fucked and you've been bleeding. Wait here."

He shuffled back outside, trying to catch Eddy and the others before they pulled off - they'd wasted his night, they could at least take Andy to the hospital if they were still there.

[Narg]

"The hell... what? Ok. I don't remember what happened I was taking a smoke and then... I dunno something hit my head, and then I was awake. I was awake in an empty storage locker."

As Andy was saying this, Alister ran out to the street to try and catch the car. Or at least he ran as best he could. Every once and a while he would forget that he was sick and try and do something a normal human could, like write, run, or feel joy. He keeled over on the sidewalk from the sudden pain. He looked up from his hunkered down position to see that Eddy and the crew had already taken off.

"Hey, man! Whoa don't push yourself." Andy came over slowly and kneeled down on the ground next to him. His head wound didn't look like it was where the blood came from. The two ill men sat next to each other in silence for a bit. Eventually Andy took out two cigarettes and handed one to Alister. He lit it for him. They both took a long drag and exhaled. Andy stared at the morning sun and mused, "Look at us... Fucked up. Two grown men, kneeling in agony on a sidewalk. You know I've got an extra stool. You wanna sit and have a nature valley bar with me? When was the last time you fucking ate man?"

BZZZZZZZtz.

The silent Nokia burner would have rang out in its usual, iconic, obnoxious manner, were it not for the fact that Alister had silenced it. It sat in the palm of the dying man's hand. This call could mean Alister's salvation.

"Well, you gonna get it?" Andy asked, taking a drag of his cigarette, and puffing it out. "Hey don't worry about me. I'll call my girlfriend, we'll get my head checked. Fuck I might even get workers comp! take your call, dude. Then come get some food." Andy meandered back to his booth, slowly, leaving Alister to take his call.

[Alister Rockwell]

Alister's intended response was No you fucking dolt, I don't want a nature bar I want you to get to the hospital. Fortunately the buzzing of his phone provided Andy ample time to assure him that he would in fact seek help, which abated Alister's concerns and shifted his attention fully to the potentially life-saving phone call. Walking back into the facility, he decided on a whim to see if he could locate the storage locker Andy had come to in to take a slightly closer look - he assumed it would be one with an open door, if not he could just ask Andy later - as he pulled out and flipped open the phone.

"This is Alister - Rockwell. Alister Rockwell. Dr. Ferric's guy."

[Narg]

"Ah, hello Mr. Rockwell. This is nurse Young calling from the offices of Dr. O'Connor-"

Alister turned the corner and noticed an open storage container. He flipped the light switch on to find it cold and bare, save for a drop or two of blood on the ground. Alister would need patience and a forensics team to glean any more information of what had transpired here. He had more pressing matters to attend to anyways. He had two appointments to make, one with the blood doctor, and the other with his blankets and his newly acquired booze.

"-We understand that you have a health predicament, specifically related to a virulent bloodborne pathogen of unknown origin, and have been referenced to our offices by one Dr. Luke Ferric-"

Alister stepped out of the locker, flipped the light switch, and closed the sliding door. He looked over and saw Andy on his cell phone, calling, who Alister could only guess, was his girlfriend.

"-It just so happens that we can make the preparations for an appointment over the course of today and tomorrow-"

Alister punched in the code to his storage unit and lifted the gate. It seemed that the drugs were finally starting to do their work on his shakes. He was able to move much easier now. He walked over to his new, singed, yet still incredibly comfy and warm blanket, and snuggled up with his hard liquor amalgam.

"-We would like for you to come in to Roeststadt Medical tomorrow evening at about eight o'clock. I'm sure you understand why the appointment is after usual booking hours. I won't pretend you're not a... special case. I understand that you are in frail condition, so we would be happy to send a shuttle if necessary. Does all of this work for you Mr. Rockwell?"

[Alister Rockwell]

Alister's hands had stopped shaking enough for him to unlace his boots and kick them off. Understandably, they stank having been worn for about a day straight, so he put them in the gun area. Then he shrugged off his jacket and laid down.

"Yes! Yes absolutely. I'll need...need the shuttle. I will meet you at the...the... Storage King. In Old Harbour." He swallowed, and asked the most painful question. "How much will everything cost me?"

[Narg]

"To be honest, Mr. Rockwell, I don't know why Dr. O'Connor has taken such an interest. You seem untreatable. I was not given a bill of costs to give to our receptionists, and what we're setting up currently normally incurs a cost. If there's a cost I see a bill. It seems you will have to work out payment with Dr. O'Connor."

Nurse Young was cordial and frank. The tone was more akin to what Alister had experienced from doctors who had no interest in him other than his payment method. Only now, after being with Dr. Ferric so long, was the difference between mainstream health professionals and the personal care of Dr. Ferric so vastly different.

"Oh, and Mr. Rockwell. When Dr. O'Connor takes an interest in cases like yours it is best you pack a bag for a... longer visit. I'm sure you understand."

[Alister Rockwell]

Alister cast a glance at the beaten-up duffel bag slumping sadly out of a cardboard box. "Bring socks and undies. Got it." He went to hang up, and then realised rudely hanging up on the people who could potentially save his life was a pretty shit idea. "Cheers, Nurse. I'll be outside for the shuttle from about 7:30pm."

He let the nurse say goodbye, then hung up. He put the phone aside - he realised now that he didn't have a charger for it, but given that it was an old Nokia he knew the battery would literally last longer than he would - grabbed his bottle of makeshift swill, uncorked it, and poured some of it into his mouth. It was the foulest shit he'd ever tasted, a god-awful burning concoction of gin, scotch, tequila, rum, and mostly vodka, but it was still the best thing he'd ever drunk. Curling up under the blanket, he nursed the bottle until he fell asleep.

He slept for a long time. It was maybe 8am when his eyes managed to drift closed - assuming an interrupted sleep, he wouldn't wake until almost 16 hours later. His body was exhausted - lack of sleep the previous night was just the tip of the iceburg, he was fucking dying after all. Maybe he would have slept soundly too, if his sleep wasn't crammed full of nightmares, running through his brain one after the other like carriages in a train. In one, he fled down a dark alley from the chromed-metal skeleton of a Terminator robot, his feet sinking deeper into the muddy asphalt with each step until it stomped up behind him, stepped on his spine, and shot him in the head. In another, he drowned underneath a flood of parasites and felt them eat him from the inside out. The third was almost merciful compared to the first two - Ricky, a hole in his head, shoved him off of the construction site into a cavernous pit and upended a cement mixer on top of him, entombing him alive.

The fourth wasn't really a nightmare, just another disassociative experience. Except the thing was, it was that combined with sleep paralysis, so he got the spine-chilling birds-eye view of something dark and sharp flitting behind boxes until it slid under the covers and his orphaned mind felt it crawl up his leg and into his mouth.

It was a really bad fucking night, is the point.

When his eyes finally cracked open - and were then screwed shut again to get rid of the glaring incandescent bulb shining into them - his mouth was dry, his body was stiff, sore, and drenched in sweat, and he badly needed to piss. Groggily, he went straight for the bottle and moistened his mouth with a quick sip, then pushed himself painfully to a sitting position. He took another sip, put down the bottle, and then braced himself up against the wall, using it to help himself to his feet. Stumbling over to the table, he grabbed the burner phone and checked the time - fuck me it's early, he thought - before dry swallowing another couple of pills. The concrete floor was fucking freezing, so he slipped his feet back into his boots and let himself out of the locker, closing it up behind him as he made for the bathroom to drink and piss.

[Narg]

Funnily enough the shakes hadn't returned to their usual intensity. It seemed the Doc's medication lingered in his system, keeping his shakes manageable. He stepped outside into the cool night. There was no moon, but the sky was clear, and the milky way dense and bright above him. It was one thirty-six in the morning, but at least Alister felt somewhat rested compared to the night before. He walked up to the unisex bathroom door and wiggled the handle. It was unoccupied.

SPOILER: Click to show

A friend rolls stealth + dex
vqCg9IXZp_p_p_p_p_p_p_
4 successes

Alister rolls perception + alertness

p_p_p_p_
4 successes holy shit Alister sees.

Just as Alister was about to open the door he heard something. It was a faint sound, like a light footstep on metal. Alister wheeled himself around and looked about. Faintly, by the light of the stars, Alister saw him. The figure stood atop a storage unit a couple of meters back, he was crouched down as if caught in the middle of stalking prey, impeccably balanced. The minute Alister turned around the figure froze, seemingly in shock of being discovered, then chuckled and stood upright before hopping down from atop the storage container.

"Oh, please continue. By no means should ya' stop your excretions for me. I was gon' ta introduce myself anyhow, afterwards of course." He stepped into the light shed off by the attendants box nearby, finally revealing his pursuer's face. He was a tall, African looking man with long dreads that hung down to his back. He wore a leather jacket, underneath it a white t-shirt. Around his neck he had a wooden beaded necklace, upon his hand stainless steel rings with various symbols on them. His blue jeans were lightly worn, not for style, but from actual use. His boots were stylish, black leather cowboy boots that looked like they cost at least three hundred dollars. 

"Oh, and let's not pull any weapons or such, I've a bit of temper, and I only came to talk. I'm as unarmed as an amputee. Feel free ta check if ya' so wish. I wouldn' trust a strange man stalking me in the night for as far as I could spit either. You are Alister, are ya' not?" The man took off his jacket and held his arms wide open and his legs slightly apart. He threw the jacket on the ground a good deal in front of him. Now without the obstruction of the leather, Alister noticed how crazy jacked his pursuer was. Only Arnold himself could put this man to shame.
··········

[Alister Rockwell]

"That's what my Mam named me," Alister said warily. He didn't have his gun, he didn't have a pocket knife - he didn't even have the bottle. In his current state, a few solid punches from those muscles and it was lights out again. And he still really, really needed to piss. He got a good look at him, and an epiphany occurred.

"You...you're that terminator asshole. The one who wrecked Eddy's boys." He shifted to a back weight, ready to flee or spin and fling open the metal door to hide inside the toilet - or fight, if he couldn't get away, but god damn he had no chance in a fight right this instant. God damn, they weren't shitting me. Why didn't I bring the 9 mil? "What do you want with me?"

[Narg]

The man smiled, "Yes, that is what'chu was calling me last night, I suppose. Good choice of words, I might add. I am rather tough to stop, and I'm here ta give ya' hand. Oh Lord... what was the line...? Ah, yes!" He snapped his fingers once he had found his thought, "Come with me if ya' wanna live! Been a while since I saw the movie, I sincerely do apologize."

The man noticed Alister's skittishness and took a step back, trying to be as non threatening as possible, "Now let me tell ya' somethin', Alister." He said in a deep, husky, southern American drawl, "I mean it when I say I'm not here ta harm ya'. From what I know, your death is jus' a waitin' game. Why would I need ta kill ya'? I simply wanna get ta' know ya', Alister. So I figya it's important so start with a betta' introduction than this. M'name's Solomon, but terminator will work jus' fine if ya like."

Solomon could see the disbelief in Alister's face as he spoke, and so continued on without giving Alister a moment to speak.

"I see ya' gearin' up to bolt, now Alister, and I wan'cha to think real hard 'for ya' do that. Think 'bout it. You're a smart man. You were right last night to figya that I followed those boys to where you was hidin'. You jus' didn' figya how close I really was. They toldja what I did. I could've killed y'all right then, but I didn't."

Solomon continued with his logic, his tone quiet and calming, treating Alister both as a rational human and a scared, wounded, animal. "Ya' see, I saw your gumption a couple months back, at the night club. You gave a good fight, a real good fight, Alister. The kind of fight a man can respect, no holds bared, no rules of engagement, just a fight for ya hide. I asked around and heard 'bout you being real close to dyin', So I come to talk with ya, meet the real you, not just hear what others think."

Solomon pointed at the bathroom, "So why don'chu go take ya' shit, or whateva', then come out and we'll talk?"

[Alister Rockwell]

It was almost surreal. Maybe he was still drunk, or dreaming? A black southern cowboy telling him he was interested in him because how he'd beaten the shit out of the Cook and his boys - Alister didn't remember that too well, most of what he could recall after being taken into the back room for a beating had been washed out by a wave of red. He dimly remembered the Cook coming in, Alister catching one of his goons by surprise, and then...mainly sensations, the feeling of getting punched and cut, his knuckles impacting against flesh, the coppery taste of blood in his mouth.

Surreal as it was, Alister decided to take the offered opportunity and relieve himself. He let himself into the bathroom, unzipped, steadied himself against the wall, did his business, then zipped back up and washed his hands. As he did so he was thinking about what the man had told him, and something about 'the Club' really seemed to gnaw at Alister. When he opened the door and stepped out, for a brief second the light illuminated Solomon's face clearly, and Alister took a hard look...

SPOILER: Click to show

Alister rolls Perception + Alertness for remembering.

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No successes.

...but the man's face was that of a complete stranger, and the artificial light gave way to starlight as the door swung closed. Alister shivered, and wrapped his arms around himself - figuring it'd be a quick trip, he hadn't brought his jacket.

"Alright, you've got my full attention. You want to talk? Fine, what do you want to know?"

It was probably crazy to engage the beefcake terminator who'd killed like five guys without breaking a sweat, but Alister didn't see making a run for it as a particularly viable option. He was dying and careless, not suicidal.···

[Narg]

"I see you're a reasonable man." Solomon said, smiling, "I wanna know what makes Alister Alister. I wanna know why a man sick as you, with a whole buncha bullets, hasn't put one through 'is head yet." Solomon peered at Alister intently, scrutinizing him, then saying, "Where are my manners, you mus' be freezin'. C'mon now, you can use my coat if you want." He pointed at the jacket on the ground, just about Alister's size.

Solomon looked Alister up and down, and began to speak "You've become a prisoner in your own body. A degrading tomb that'chu carry with ya'. I find it admirable that'cha persist. Rather than take the easy way out," Solomon said, making a gun out of his fingers and pretending to shoot himself in the head, "You choose t'exist!" 

He sat down with his back against a storage unit, and put his hands in his lap, "Death's the final, ultimate, prison, Alister. Ya' haven't chosen it yet, which means ya' think ya' can get out of that one." Solomon motioned in Alister's direction, "Ya'aven't given up on your body. Ya'aren't resigned to death, no matter what'cha say. So I ask. What'll you do to be free? What's ya' next move? Got a plan?"

[Alister Rockwell]

Surprisingly, Alister felt himself pulling the man's jacket around his shoulders like a cloak. When he talked, Alister found himself listening intently.

He wasn't used to the introspective lens. People didn't ask him questions like this - Alister never asked them either, never saw a point to. He had always been a fairly straight-forward man. It took him a few moments of reflection, a rarity in his life, before he could even start to answer. "Anything," came his answer at last. "Whatever it takes. I'm...not done with this world yet. I ain't got much in it, but...but that's no reason for me to give up on it easily." He found himself speaking openly to this strange, deadly man who had killed his acquaintances and followed him here just to ask him why he hadn't offed himself yet, and was dimly perplexed as to why.

"I don't know what's killing me - my last doc said it's some bloodborne path..peth...pathogen. One he doesn't know. He's put me on to some expert who's interested in this shit. If nothing else, I want to know what's killing me. If I can, I want to kill it. And if I can't..." What would he do? His condition made him all the more likely to take risks, but even though he was almost sure he was going to die, he never had bothered to ask what he'd do at the end of the road. "Laying down and dying in a puddle of piss and sweat and booze sounds like shit. I'll find something, and go out on my own terms. Always wanted to rob a bank - maybe a car chase. Hell, I've got a few 'friends' I wouldn't mind settling the score with before I go."

[Narg]

Solomon chuckled, his laugh was low and oddly jolly for a man as terrifying as he was. Solomon in general seemed like a walking contradiction. The man before Alister was having a calm, measured, almost philosophical discussion. This same person, however, if Eddy were to be believed, also killed six men and tortured three at the drop of a hat, just to meet somebody whos punch impressed him. This odd, odd man was laughing alongside Alister as if they had known each other all their lives.

"I've got plenty a score to settle myself." Solomon mused, "Luckily I'm of the body where it ain' gon' be my epitaph!"

He fussed with a rusted copper wedding band on his hand. For a fleeting moment a solemn look darted across his face, before giving way to a slight grin. "Anythin'... That's a good answer, Alister. I know many a man and woman who said jus' that. A lot of 'em died fighting, jus' like you's sayin'. At least they went out fightin' to be free. They didn'ave much in this worl' neither, but they went out fightin'. Jus' like you, Alister."

Solomon leaned forward into a cross legged pose, hunched over, his elbows on his knees, "See, I believe that you deserve to exist, Alister. People like us, fighters, rebels, survivors, we deserve freedom. We deserve to punch back when the world gives us the right hook. So first thing's first; this blood disease you got, how ya' gon' hit back? Who's this expert you're goin' to? Ya' got a name for 'em?"

Solomon seemed genuinely concerned for Alister's wellbeing. He seemed to be gathering information from Alister and judging the situation as he learned more. Alister was starting to feel more and more relaxed in Solomon's presence, and as the discussion went on, he felt himself more and more connected with the man who sat humbly on the ground before him.

SPOILER: Click to show

Hey, it's a vampire ability called Awe! Charisma 4 (Good cop) + Performance 4 (story telling)

JCArZi_vp_p_p_p_p_p_p_p_
Yeah that really fucking worked, if there were a fucking crowd here they would love this guy.

Alister felt comfortable around Solomon. All of his reticence was gone. Solomon's stories of freedom, and rising against an unfair, oppressive world, really resonated with him. They probably would have, even without Solomon's abilities pushing him. Alister wondered how such an even tempered man could possibly have done such terrible things to Eddy and his crew. Solomon couldn't possibly mean any harm.
·······

[Alister Rockwell]

Alister didn't see any reason not to share the information with Solomon - the eloquent man deserved as much with how much interest and compassion he was showing. "Dr. Saoirse O'Connor," he said. "I have an appointment with her from 8 tomorrow...this evening, I guess." Alister allowed himself to relax, and dropped to a sitting position with his back against the door. All this talking was, however, reminding him of how thirsty he still was. "She has a clinic in Roestadt Medical. My doctor - Dr. Ferric - told me she specialises in bloodborne pathogens and has a lot of pull and resources." 

Solomon's words really seemed to have struck a cord somewhere deep within him. "Fighting to be free...fighting for something you believe in." He gave a mirthless, bitter chuckle, the sort that comes from reflection and regret. "Now there's an idea I wish I'd thought of years ago. Better than fighting to get by."