[The question of the hour—how's a former military lab rat get the moxie and the means to launch a large-scale bioattack all on his lonesome?
(The answer, of course, is that he doesn't.)
Not that figuring that out is their job, officially. Just bringing him in. But nosiness is a bad habit of many. The simplest route to figuring out what's going on behind the scenes involves getting Zan Nikora to give his side of the story. And someone's got to agree, because the price tag on the warrant to retrieve him is no joke. Despite the outbreak starting on Leith, current leads still point to Westerley. At the moment, their best option mostly involves canvassing the city. Sifting through the masses of the sick and raving for signs of a guy who seems to fit the description. Running down sightings from feverish locals that may or may not have been halluncinations in the first place, erratic movements that all seem to imply that maybe Nikora's not exactly in his right mind anymore, either.
The needle-in-a-haystack approach. Which takes time, and manpower. And luck, which is probably the most frustrating piece of it all. If Nikora's off his rocker on his own virus, it makes him a lot harder to predict.
They're in the neighborhood, so a little double-duty in the way of passing out supplies doesn't set them back much, as long as they're quick. In the midst of chasing their tails, the cure still needs delivering and administering, and Westerley gets access at the bottom of the priority list, so it comes in at a trickle. The clinics are scattered away from the shipments, set up in tents and shantytowns where they lack facilities with the space for the number of the sick. Right now, Jason's waiting outside, hands in pockets. Leaning on the wall and waiting for Damian to finish whatever it is he's doing so they can get back on the trail.
Perhaps uncharacteristically, he doesn't seem to feel the need to snipe.]
mid/late week 4 somewhere, while we wait for warrant rng.
(The answer, of course, is that he doesn't.)
Not that figuring that out is their job, officially. Just bringing him in. But nosiness is a bad habit of many. The simplest route to figuring out what's going on behind the scenes involves getting Zan Nikora to give his side of the story. And someone's got to agree, because the price tag on the warrant to retrieve him is no joke. Despite the outbreak starting on Leith, current leads still point to Westerley. At the moment, their best option mostly involves canvassing the city. Sifting through the masses of the sick and raving for signs of a guy who seems to fit the description. Running down sightings from feverish locals that may or may not have been halluncinations in the first place, erratic movements that all seem to imply that maybe Nikora's not exactly in his right mind anymore, either.
The needle-in-a-haystack approach. Which takes time, and manpower. And luck, which is probably the most frustrating piece of it all. If Nikora's off his rocker on his own virus, it makes him a lot harder to predict.
They're in the neighborhood, so a little double-duty in the way of passing out supplies doesn't set them back much, as long as they're quick. In the midst of chasing their tails, the cure still needs delivering and administering, and Westerley gets access at the bottom of the priority list, so it comes in at a trickle. The clinics are scattered away from the shipments, set up in tents and shantytowns where they lack facilities with the space for the number of the sick. Right now, Jason's waiting outside, hands in pockets. Leaning on the wall and waiting for Damian to finish whatever it is he's doing so they can get back on the trail.
Perhaps uncharacteristically, he doesn't seem to feel the need to snipe.]
Done?
[Clock's ticking.]