Hank Anderson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sociallychallenged) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
victory_road2018-11-17 07:33 pm
sociallychallenged) wrote in victory_road2018-11-17 07:33 pm
003 - Log
Who: Hank Anderson | OTA
Where: Goldenrod
When: During November
Summary: A few log openings
Rating: L for language
Nov 12th - OTA
[It's shaping up to be a cold, rainy week. Honestly, it feels a little like home, and it gives him something to do because fuck knows he hates sitting around all the fuckin' time with his thumb up his ass. And this place is pretty good for giving him absolutely nothing. He's been working as a janitor in every town they've stayed at, and his most exciting event of the week is when he has to scrape gum from the bottom of a table. Honestly he didn't quite feel so fucking old until the millionth time he had to dislodge a cemented hard candy from a surface, muttering, 'damned kids'. A sentiment he never thought he'd feel (even if it's just passing petty annoyance with the average heathen children of perfect land, and he still very much misses being a father).]
[On a day off like this he can take his dogs and go out and investigate the area around the town. He can check the 'missing' posters at the Pokecenter or ads in the paper. He can make a list of "missing eevee, pink bow around neck" or "cranky joltik, answers to frank, plz contact if seen" and contact their owners to find something that'll smell like their lost charges. Then he can use his three main team members to go looking for the missing pokemon.]
[Today's been a good day. He's not bothered with an umbrella himself, because he's not a fucking wicked witch and he's not going to melt, but he is carrying a basket with someone's lost, wet Jigglypuff in it, dripping from having been wandering freely, lost from its owner, with a poncho over it and looking about as cranky as a wet ball of pink fluff can.]
[Hank carries it into the Pokecenter to drop it off, intending to go get some fucking booze after this because he is going to need it. His pants are spattered in that unique sort of City Mud that's going to be a pain in the ass to wash out, and he puts the basket up onto the nearest counter and turns it over to the nearest deja-vu-faced cute girl along with the owner's info.]
Watch out. He's in a mood. [Hank warns her before heading out. Right. Booze, and pick up a newspaper to look for more missing ads. Rather than make them endure the rain longer than necessary, his usual crew of dogs are all in their balls. Sure, he'll protect his buddies from the water, but not himself (other than his leather overcoat and some thick clothes) despite it being cold. He'll just go about his errands looking like a wet Stoutland, thanks.]
Nov 23rd - Closed to Connor
There is some bullshit going on.
[Hank's voice is booming loudly as he tears his way back to his and Connor's shared hotel room. There's been some fucked up stuff already. People just... fucking appearing in the street. Pokemon that don't belong here chasing around ones that do. People going missing. The Jennies are taxed and Hank's done what he can to help for a man that has no fucking clue what anything is and where.]
[He has seen one of the giant legendary fucking huge bird things today, and that's something he didn't want in his life.]
Have you seen any of this, Connor?
[He goes to the window to peek out the blinds.]
I thought my fucking shadow fucking off without my permission was weird enough. Now we've got whatever this is.
Where: Goldenrod
When: During November
Summary: A few log openings
Rating: L for language
[On a day off like this he can take his dogs and go out and investigate the area around the town. He can check the 'missing' posters at the Pokecenter or ads in the paper. He can make a list of "missing eevee, pink bow around neck" or "cranky joltik, answers to frank, plz contact if seen" and contact their owners to find something that'll smell like their lost charges. Then he can use his three main team members to go looking for the missing pokemon.]
[Today's been a good day. He's not bothered with an umbrella himself, because he's not a fucking wicked witch and he's not going to melt, but he is carrying a basket with someone's lost, wet Jigglypuff in it, dripping from having been wandering freely, lost from its owner, with a poncho over it and looking about as cranky as a wet ball of pink fluff can.]
[Hank carries it into the Pokecenter to drop it off, intending to go get some fucking booze after this because he is going to need it. His pants are spattered in that unique sort of City Mud that's going to be a pain in the ass to wash out, and he puts the basket up onto the nearest counter and turns it over to the nearest deja-vu-faced cute girl along with the owner's info.]
Watch out. He's in a mood. [Hank warns her before heading out. Right. Booze, and pick up a newspaper to look for more missing ads. Rather than make them endure the rain longer than necessary, his usual crew of dogs are all in their balls. Sure, he'll protect his buddies from the water, but not himself (other than his leather overcoat and some thick clothes) despite it being cold. He'll just go about his errands looking like a wet Stoutland, thanks.]
[Hank's voice is booming loudly as he tears his way back to his and Connor's shared hotel room. There's been some fucked up stuff already. People just... fucking appearing in the street. Pokemon that don't belong here chasing around ones that do. People going missing. The Jennies are taxed and Hank's done what he can to help for a man that has no fucking clue what anything is and where.]
[He has seen one of the giant legendary fucking huge bird things today, and that's something he didn't want in his life.]
Have you seen any of this, Connor?
[He goes to the window to peek out the blinds.]
I thought my fucking shadow fucking off without my permission was weird enough. Now we've got whatever this is.
no subject
[He still sounds very uncertain about the prospect, something he's very worried about showing in front of Connor. It seems like he takes his inability to keep Hank happy as another personal failure, a condemnation. But he is at least certain he'd like to have a home base and somewhere for these things to run around.]
no subject
[Boone has mostly been okay with living in hotels, but the idea of having his pokemon free to do whatever they like is nice.]
Where are you thinking of settling down?
no subject
It's just sorta hard to think about when you spent what, fifteen something years paying off a mortgage to one house and it's like, "Well now you gotta do everything all over again in fantasy land." [He can't even rightfully consider improving the life he's got.]
I want 'em to be able to go wherever, though. I want a bed that's mine to sleep in. So I get to do it all over again. [Lord knows he might be here until he's sixty some, anyway, according to the people here.]
no subject
[He frowns.]
Not sure I like that last part, but it's not that much of a problem.
[Boone shrugs, Salazzle getting comfortable in his arms.]
I lived in a motel back home. Got to stay for free because I was a town guard. Went to hell in the end when it turned out the mayor was willing to sell people into slavery just because she didn't like them, though.
[After a pause, and a sip of his whiskey, he adds-]
She got what was coming to her.
no subject
[Though it occurs to him then that he doesn't know that much about Boone, or what kind of place he comes from, and that human trafficking might be on a whole different level there. Not everyone comes from some average cell-phone having hellhole. They have their own unique hellholes.]
[Hunter puts his head in Hank's lap, sitting beside him and looking up at him with eyebrow-dotted and excessively loving eyes. Monster has this dog thing down pat.]
Sounds like the bitch deserved it. [Not the best cop thing to say, but fuck. Sometimes people just do.] I probably would have done something myself, knowing that. [But he doesn't know the level of personal stakes Boone had in it.]
no subject
[He looks down at Hunter, but he can't muster a smile with the topic of conversation going on.]
World's better off without her, far as I'm concerned.
[It'll never bring Carla back, but he likes to think Carla would be pleased to know that the woman who sold her is dead.]
no subject
[Hank realizes it might be a personal question. But he raises a finger as he takes another drink. Give him a moment.]
I used to be a cop back home. I always hated finding out someone had been getting away with something for a while, especially people in power and good at hiding behind a friendly political face. Pissed me right the hell off.
So I was just wondering what got her caught, finally.
[It seems obvious that Boone knew some of the people personally. He's wearing it like an open wound. And some of those people probably never came back.]
no subject
It was my wife she sold.
[He takes a drink, frowning.]
Carla didn't like Novac. She was used to Vegas, and Novac... it was just a small town with not much to do in it. Carla was pretty vocal about how much she hated it there, and the mayor didn't like it. So she sold her to the Legion. They came in at night, while I was on duty. Not sure what happened, but by the time I caught up to her, she was dead.
[It's a lot of talking for him, but he continues.]
About a year later, a woman came to town. Didn't trust anyone in town after what had happened, so seeing a stranger show up I asked her to help me. Was a long shot, but it paid off. She found the bill of sale in the mayor's safe. Did what I had to after that.
no subject
Another whiskey! [Hank pre-emptively calls for a glass for them both, before considering.]
I'm a cop back home. Police officer law keeper type of person. Knowing that, though... I probably would have covered up for you. Someone like that shouldn't have gotten away with it. [Hank knows he was a good cop, but he wasn't always the best cop. Sometimes things needed to play out their own way.]
My son was hurt in a crash and died in the hospital and I was always frustrated that I never could... I don't know. Get some closure over it. Can't even shoot cars to make sure they'll never hurt anyone else. Couldn't... stop androids from existing to fuck up surgeries. Couldn't keep doctors from getting high and being unable to perform. I spent a good portion of my career trying to fight drugs, too....
[Hank says wryly.] Your way at least kept her from fucking up anyone else's life.