The vid displays a murky background, washed out as though drawn in gray and brown watercolor. Water, too, washes the face of the young man upon whom the camera is focused. His rapid, shallow breaths form clouds of vapor that briefly obscure the camera's view of him and his companion. His face is drawn in a rictus of pain, fear, and rage. A grimace of pain reveals elongated canine teeth and a visage that has been somehow surgically modified to appear abhuman. A dark stain infuses the torn clothing that covers his left side, upper left leg, and left arm. His dark, close-cropped hair fails to hide a freely bleeding gash above his right ear. Although he clutches his side, he appears unaware of his other injury. His companion is a hulking giant who is likewise hunched over in the water-soaked alley in which the pair has taken refuge, but the giant's posture conveys a sense of protectiveness and concern for his smaller partner. The expression of concern vanishes momentarily and becomes one of animal wariness as his head turns in the direction of a perceived sound, but when his attention returns after a moment to his companion, the look of concern and even anxiety returns. The giant wears his hair equally close-cropped, but the bestiality of his features appears to be natural rather than surgically induced. He bears more wounds than his friend, but they are less severe. Unlike his companion, he breathes evenly.
The smaller man is speaking, "I'm tellin' ya Carver, I'm gonna eat their livers!" he rasps with a tubercular fervor. A short spell of coughing follows this cannibalistic oath.
"I don't know who they were, I think I seen the human before, but I'm gonna find out! And they're gonna pay! Those ebons had to be workin' for the SHIVERS, and they're gonna get theirs!" More coughing follows. It has taken on a wet, ragged sound, as though each breath had to climb over a piece of misaligned anatomy.
His partner's answering rumble is filled with concern, and doesn't address the smaller man's pronouncement. "You're hurt worse'n I am, Gnash. We gotta get you sum med'cin'. What do we do? You're bleedin' pretty good, Gnash. Should I go get Doc Wheeler?"
Carver gets wet coughing in reply from Gnash. Afterward, the giant is visibly supporting Gnash's pale form. Gnash's voice is weaker than before, but just as vehement; "No! Not to Wheeler. He'd let me die on the table and sell me for parts."
Gnash visibly struggles to assemble a desperate but coherent plan.
"Benedict, maybe?" asks the immense Carver, now sounding plaintive.
"No, that pissant'll probably pump me with Shatter then try to sell me a gun. And I'm so fuckin' pissed I'd probably buy it and walk out the door and die.
"No, Carver, you gotta take me to Harod. He's got the SLA meds. Ain't nothin' gonna help me now but some KickStart."
Carver considers for a moment, nods, and picks up his companion. As he sets off down the murky alley, away from the vid pickup, he says, "Harod's gonna want."
"I don't care what he wants!" comes the answer, weakly. "He's gonna wanna live, isn't he? You're gonna persuade him, Carver. You're gonna persuade him good! You can do that, Carver, can'tchya?"
"Yes, Gnash. Yes, I can," replies the giant, as the pair disappears into the Downtown rain. .
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