( The rain's pissing down in thin sheets, and Wrench doesn't have the good sense to get out of it. He's been sleeping in the car — his car now, he supposes, though there's nothing much about the 1974 Volkswagen Type 1 he'd care to lay specific claim to. Still, over the course of the last three days he's found it a lot harder to close his eyes in the middle of a bustling city. People are people whether rural or urban, but the concentration of so many bodies packed on top of each other means that Wrench can't go more than five minutes without running into someone. He's used to being the only person he can rely on, but the shit he encounters in the woods doesn't often surprise him. He knows how to deal with all manner of wild animals acting on instinct. People are chaotic and irrational, and that's what makes them the most dangerous beasts of all.
So, he's out wandering instead of sleeping, green slug bug parked haphazardly up the block. When Wrench notices shadows moving inside the windows of an office building he's wandering past, it validates something. People just can't help themselves, can they? They see shit, and they have to have it. Desire is more trouble than it's worth.
With nowhere to be and no plans to sleep any time soon, Wrench spares the time to observe. The man inside seems increasingly frantic, and it's not too long before he's able to see why: the water on the floor is rising.
He's not sure he believes in karmic justice; people largely get what they get, and that fact isn't much changed by how much or how little they deserve it. But Wrench is ostensibly glad to see the face on the other side of that glass doesn't exactly have an air of innocence to it. The busted-up nose and mess of healing cuts and bruises give a pretty good indication of just what kind of man this is, he thinks. Even more so when the stranger pulls out a gun and cocks it toward the glass. Wrench watches the pane absorb the shock of impact without giving.
He's witnessed even more death than he's been direct party to, and that number is frankly staggering. Wrench's conscience would forgive him if he didn't intervene. But as he watches the man desperately search for something unseen, preparing to immerse himself in the rising tide, he reaches out a fist and bangs on the glass instead. There's something about the frantic desperation toward an unseen source that piques his curiosity.)
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So, he's out wandering instead of sleeping, green slug bug parked haphazardly up the block. When Wrench notices shadows moving inside the windows of an office building he's wandering past, it validates something. People just can't help themselves, can they? They see shit, and they have to have it. Desire is more trouble than it's worth.
With nowhere to be and no plans to sleep any time soon, Wrench spares the time to observe. The man inside seems increasingly frantic, and it's not too long before he's able to see why: the water on the floor is rising.
He's not sure he believes in karmic justice; people largely get what they get, and that fact isn't much changed by how much or how little they deserve it. But Wrench is ostensibly glad to see the face on the other side of that glass doesn't exactly have an air of innocence to it. The busted-up nose and mess of healing cuts and bruises give a pretty good indication of just what kind of man this is, he thinks. Even more so when the stranger pulls out a gun and cocks it toward the glass. Wrench watches the pane absorb the shock of impact without giving.
He's witnessed even more death than he's been direct party to, and that number is frankly staggering. Wrench's conscience would forgive him if he didn't intervene. But as he watches the man desperately search for something unseen, preparing to immerse himself in the rising tide, he reaches out a fist and bangs on the glass instead. There's something about the frantic desperation toward an unseen source that piques his curiosity.)