Post by Soldier 76 on Aug 18, 2016 23:27:35 GMT
Who let him have a knife? Were they crazy, they must be no one should have given him a knife, as the overstimulated Ansell was backed into a corner, waving it wildly. This was only 6 months of living among people, he'd been sent away from Austria, apparently the rules of refugee status demanded he be competent enough to get a job eventually. It was obvious from his current state that was not a possibility, instead of he was bounced from one European country to the next, no one wanted the wildman around. Fair enough. So finally the only country that would take him was America.
He'd been sort of just wandering the west, the deserted nature of it made him feel more comfortable. This little town wasn't so bad, people sure but it was so quiet. Out there looked like the outback, brush and cacti. Nothing for miles. What was this place called? Sal Paulo? Something like that.
But back to the man who'd stolen a knife and was snarling at police officers. Someone muscled into the group. "Don't shoot him! Jesus, what are ya thinking?" he grumbled, sort of putting distance between the crowd and Ansell. "He doesn't know what you're doing, ya know, and shouting at him isn't about to make it better. I promise you give him some space I'll take him home." He sighed, this was the 2nd?...4th? Time the poor guy had gotten stuck in this situation. Assimilating to modern culture, and humanity was taking time. A lot of time.
As soon as he had a gap, Ansell bolted into the scrub land, dropping the knife as he went. George sighed. "Great. Look at what you gone and did, he's just, confused." He tried to explain but the officers looked less than pleased. "He's workin' on it." He stepped away sighing and scratching the back of his head. They'd go a few weeks just fine, and then...something would snap. Over-stimulation, that's what the shrink said. He said he'd never seen a person go truly feral before, it'd be like teaching a wolf how to be a dog. Difficult sure, but it could be done.
Could be done. The old naval man watched Ansell disappear into the desert, he'd be back once he'd calmed down. He always came back. Why was he even watching this crazy person? Why was he letting him stay in his house? Eat his food? Use his bed?
Ah, he didn't know. Maybe some thought in his head he could help to fix the broken man? Haha yeah sure, he couldn't even fix the thing in his own head, how was he suppose to help some other lost soul?
He slunk back to his house and sat down on the couch with a sigh. When Wolff was lucid he seemed like a pleasant sort of man, former military police, prone to smiling at a moments notice. Seemed nice enough. Maybe that's why George didn't mind him around. His broken english coupled with the strange blended accent was kinda charming in it's own way. A knock on the door a few hours later and he stood up opening the door to see Ansell fidgetting there. "Well come in," George said and closed the door behind the man.
Ansell looked around still looking flighty. "Sorry," was all he said before he disappeared into the bedroom. "Sorry..." George would hear again as he watched the door close.
Sorry. Right. He was getting too old for this. Far too old. "It's alright," he replied. He'd get there, he would. George was confident of that as he took to sitting on the couch again. He turned on the television, might as well settle in for sleeping on the couch tonight. Ansell needed space.
When he was half asleep, reclining, he heard the Bedroom door open, mmm, wonder where he's going? He'd feel something lean against him, one eye cracked open, he noted Ansell there. Fair enough, and he wrapped his cybernetic arm around him, dozing off. As much time as you need guy. As much time as you need.
He'd been sort of just wandering the west, the deserted nature of it made him feel more comfortable. This little town wasn't so bad, people sure but it was so quiet. Out there looked like the outback, brush and cacti. Nothing for miles. What was this place called? Sal Paulo? Something like that.
But back to the man who'd stolen a knife and was snarling at police officers. Someone muscled into the group. "Don't shoot him! Jesus, what are ya thinking?" he grumbled, sort of putting distance between the crowd and Ansell. "He doesn't know what you're doing, ya know, and shouting at him isn't about to make it better. I promise you give him some space I'll take him home." He sighed, this was the 2nd?...4th? Time the poor guy had gotten stuck in this situation. Assimilating to modern culture, and humanity was taking time. A lot of time.
As soon as he had a gap, Ansell bolted into the scrub land, dropping the knife as he went. George sighed. "Great. Look at what you gone and did, he's just, confused." He tried to explain but the officers looked less than pleased. "He's workin' on it." He stepped away sighing and scratching the back of his head. They'd go a few weeks just fine, and then...something would snap. Over-stimulation, that's what the shrink said. He said he'd never seen a person go truly feral before, it'd be like teaching a wolf how to be a dog. Difficult sure, but it could be done.
Could be done. The old naval man watched Ansell disappear into the desert, he'd be back once he'd calmed down. He always came back. Why was he even watching this crazy person? Why was he letting him stay in his house? Eat his food? Use his bed?
Ah, he didn't know. Maybe some thought in his head he could help to fix the broken man? Haha yeah sure, he couldn't even fix the thing in his own head, how was he suppose to help some other lost soul?
He slunk back to his house and sat down on the couch with a sigh. When Wolff was lucid he seemed like a pleasant sort of man, former military police, prone to smiling at a moments notice. Seemed nice enough. Maybe that's why George didn't mind him around. His broken english coupled with the strange blended accent was kinda charming in it's own way. A knock on the door a few hours later and he stood up opening the door to see Ansell fidgetting there. "Well come in," George said and closed the door behind the man.
Ansell looked around still looking flighty. "Sorry," was all he said before he disappeared into the bedroom. "Sorry..." George would hear again as he watched the door close.
Sorry. Right. He was getting too old for this. Far too old. "It's alright," he replied. He'd get there, he would. George was confident of that as he took to sitting on the couch again. He turned on the television, might as well settle in for sleeping on the couch tonight. Ansell needed space.
When he was half asleep, reclining, he heard the Bedroom door open, mmm, wonder where he's going? He'd feel something lean against him, one eye cracked open, he noted Ansell there. Fair enough, and he wrapped his cybernetic arm around him, dozing off. As much time as you need guy. As much time as you need.
