The creature slinks along the dense fog. It is suffocating, but that is not an unknown feeling to such a beast like The Smoker. It's consumed by itself, battling against its own body. It's lungs shutter and there is no relief as it draws another heavy, diseased breath. It's a sadness, really. A man -was it truly a man?- driven to nothing but ruin in the end.
The green flu bore holes into its very being, its presence in every corner of itself. Bile, blood, air. The sickness will be present regardless. To remove it would be to purge it of its very being. But they are not the same, two seperate things, one so strangled by the other that it blurs from black and white into a gentle, almost merciful grey.
And so because of this, it seeks shelter in preparation of rain. There will be none, but the brain remembers food, water, and shelter like an old muscle memory.
The shack it wanders too is quite humble, but it does not care. A roof with four walls, or hell, three walls, will do for it. It does not need luxuries, even if it may desire it. The only thing needed to drive it forward is clean, uninfected skin under its nails. A sadness, really.
The Pig. It used to be one, but seems like there’s been another one found I guess. Hard to say exactly but there was one thing for sure, another pig head was lurking around the place for anything other than that damned meat plant. Too many bad memories for him.
So honestly, he walked into the shack, just wanting to get away from the damned place. He mumbled to himself as he walked in, immediately looking up and seeing The Smoker. He immediately moved back and narrowed his eyes slightly. He wasn’t truly aware of a lot of the other killers yet since he didn’t take time recently to find any of them. Like a true introvert I guess.
The man- well, let’s call it a man for now, was standing there and Hoffman was just unaware of anything it could do. He didn’t even know it’s name or what the hell it was! Hell no is he just gonna walk up to the ‘man.’ Though, he was going to stand his ground and watch it’s movements. He wasn’t gonna run, he didn’t run from many things. Not now, not ever.
It has not seen anything for hours, and it's indifference was beginning to fester into frustration. The silence beyond its rasping was too quiet. Prior to this, there was always infected around it, groaning and crying as they pushed past it. They would fight among themselves like animals, but even in this stupor they knew to stay away from the smoker, lest it snap their bones before they could swing on it.
The smoker immediately cranes its head in the Pigs direction, hands tucked underneath itself. The other's sudden movement made it startle, and it let out a rasping wail as it also stumbles back. Its stature is bent and contorted, leaning to the side as boils and tumors along its neck and arms off put its balance. mutations beyond this were appendages, tongue like in appearance, pushing through its flesh. If it were not for the other half of its body being relatively untouched, one wouldn't be able to tell its origins were human.
The smoker hovers for a moment, wide eyed with some inkling of caution. It does not recognize what the pig is. Clean, non sickly flesh lays before it, but it is not appealing. Rotten, even for the smoker to rip into. So it does not attack, simply turning its head to the side in seemingly confusion.
Alright. It didn’t attack, that’s good- wait...it didn’t...attack? That seemed odd but Hoffman was alright with it. He was just a tad tired from his last trial. Let’s just say survivors were good at what they did. Either way, that’s not truly important. He was just glad he didn’t have to fight the...the...whatever it was.
”Uhm...hi?” He said in a awkward tone, confused on what to say. He didn’t think it could truly talk but he didn’t know what else to do. I mean, if it maybe knew nodding or something then maybe he could somewhat talk to The Smoker. Not that he truly knew or not, but it’s worth a shot.
”You don’t want to attack me or anything?” He questioned, looking for reassurance from the creature. He just was making sure for the most part. So, time for a lot of small talk along with Hoffman trying to figure out how to ask things in a yes or no answer situation. Well, that is if it nodded or not. He’d find out soon enough, and that’s what mattered to him. Maybe it’ll be better than he thinks.
It groans in response to his presence, its frame shaking as it coughs. the other is a curious thing. A man, but not immune. There was no screaming, no gunfire as bullets burrow into itself. Just frustrating quietness. It doesn't understand what Hoffman asks of it. But it is listening.
The smoker does not nod because communicating was gone along with other non essentials long ago, so It cannot wrap its poor brain around whatever he's doing. It's not a growl, a warning to back off. It is not the witches sharp wail (which is something that it would rather want to avoid. Even The Smoker would not want to feel the wrath of her.) But a crisp, clear vocalization that turns it's mind into a frenzy.
In other words, Hoffman was making it nervous. Or whatever 'nervous' was to it. It gurgles spit and after that it coughs harshly, folding in on itself as it tries to clear its throat of smoke and rot.
When it looks back up, it stares, because it is waiting for the next move. It does not want to flee into the quiet fog, but it doesn't want to stay here with the not-quite-infected thing, neither.
Hoffman watched it carefully, honestly sorta creeped out. He’s seen blood and all of that before, knew it way too well thanks to being a former detective and Jigsaw apprentice. But this...thing, it was a lot different when you saw something so deformed...moving...it was a bit creepy, not that he’d admit it, but it was definitely unnerving to him.
”Alright, I’ll assume you don’t understand.” He mumbled to himself before raising a eyebrow slightly. This thing didn’t seem to truly want to hurt him, odd to him since he was used to everyone either hating him or hunting him. So, he was slightly intrigued despite being a bit unnerved. He couldn’t find out much about it though...all up to interpretation. Lovely.
Once the thing started coughing and spitting, he definitely didn’t want to approach it. Though, what other choice did he have other than that? He could go back to the fog...but...what for? What good would it do? He had nowhere else to go, not to mention he really didn’t want to go back to the dumb meat plant. Let alone have a chance of bumming into a fellow piggie.
So...he was stuck with this thing...great. He didn’t think it wanted to leave here either so this is gonna be awkward. He wasn’t approaching it, likely wouldn’t at least. I mean, what was he gonna do? Talk in gibberish to it? It was pointless.
It's what the green flu does. It works with what's there, finding faults in the smallest of things, modifications of your DNA from outside sources. It turned this man into something truly awful and wicked. Which may be for better, because it seems to fit in well in a place like this.
the tongue- was it a tongue? Wraps around its left arm absently, squeezing. It's vaguely reminiscent of someone wringing their hands, maybe out of anxiety, or nervousness. a dark and uneasy tension settles between the two, and it takes a step back. Similar appendages like the one mentioned prior poke and prod the air, reaching out for nothing. Listening for anything but hoffman. Gross.
The smoker backs up, growling low. Its body goes to swing around, to move further from the not-infected thing, and bumps into the locker behind it. It was not a hard bump, it would not leave a bruise, even on the smoker's thin skin, but the sound of the locker rattling and its contents falling startles the thing. it sounds similar enough to gunfire, and it's much too close of a threat to ensnare, so the infected wails, swinging its fist to smash into the side of the locker before retreating.
It stumbles across to the wall diagonal to the locker, pressing its hands flat against the wood. The door - and only exit- is beyond the locker, and behind hoffman, so it doesn't evacuate the shack entirely. Instead, The smoker draws in a raspy breath, before wailing again on its exhale. It's gravely and hoarse, but still pierces the air like fangs. For a moment, its body threatens to send itself into a choking fit again, but it subsides as quick as it came.
Alright. He watched what just happened, so he was gonna speak his true thought. “What in the actual fucking fuck-“ Okay, maybe not that honest Hoffie-
He sighed gently, trying to figure out what he should do here. I mean, he could let the thing out or something but he could also try and be somewhat nice to it? Ugh, he wasn’t a nice guy, well, to most he wasn’t ever a nice guy. But this thing, it’s struggle and pain, it’s fear...
He sighed once again, trying to gather his thoughts. He didn’t know what to do honestly, this was a interesting situation. Since he didn’t want it to continue panicking, he spoke in a much softer and calm tone. Perhaps that’ll help it not have another panicked outburst. “I uhm...” He forgot how hard this was, especially to something that wasn’t truly human. It was awkward, especially since he wasn’t the nicest guy out there. Obvious thanks to his response to the outburst of fear. Not that The Smoker understood.
Though, he slowly moved away from the doorway. “It’s alright...you’re alright.” He said in a surprising very calm tone, this was very odd for him but honestly, he just was too tired to care. At least this thing didn’t insult him or anything like that. It didn’t hurt him in the past, if anything, it was nicer than over half of the people he’s met and that’s just because it hadn’t done anything. He just didn’t want it to have another panicked response due to the lockers.
Hell, maybe him moving from one of the doorways helped calm it since it knew a exit was open? He was just guessing now. Worth a guess though...
It grabs its face and groans. It seems comforting, in a way, like a person sighing after being spooked. No, no, this won't do. Trapped in such a small room, nowhere to run. But it does not stumble towards the exit. Most likely, it's still nervous about the locker, but hoffman much less so.
Before it wandered here, it was far less skittish. Unfeeling entirely, even. But even amongst the riff raff of the infection, it did not fly into a murderous rampage like the other creatures of the flu. It remained atop roofs to snare the survivors below. It let the commons do its work for it, retreating when its tongue was cut because it knew that it was far too weak to rip apart a man on its own. It was calculated, intelligent.
But now it was scared. The small sense of self preservation had turned to outright terror here. What purpose this served, to make a killer so standoffish, was unknown to anything but the entity.
It turns to huddle by the wall, almost pressed up against it. It peers out a crack, watching the smoke it emitted fade into the fog outside. Thank god the shack was not an air proof building, less the thing smoke out the inhabitant currently inside.
Whatever Hoffmam just said seems adequate enough, though, because the Smoker turns it's head towards his direction to listen. It had dropped its hands from its head, tucking them under its chest in a meek manner.
Huh, well, it understood the words ‘you’re alright’ to some degree. Well, likely just the tone of voice that he used, that’s likely all it understood of it. But hey, it was something and he appreciated that for the most part. Still a tad annoying but hey. He was okay with it. It was calm, he was calm over all. Thank goodness.
”Uhm...it’s alright. Just a locker. Loud noise. All of that. Either way, you’re okay here. I won’t hurt you.” He was awkward as all hell, he was used to such violence that anything that wasn’t aggressive or violent, especially toward him, he’d be surprised. That’s just how it was with Hoffman. He was just used to aggression towards him nowadays. Not that he blamed anyone.
But what the sad part was, the only thing that wasn’t being aggressive toward him, wasn’t truly a human, it was a dog practically. A demogorgon is what it’d likely be the most similar to if he has to guess. The salt in the wound was the fact he’s a cat person and awkward as hell and this...thing was more like a dog and likely needed someone less awkward to truly tame it to a better degree than just awkwardly saying ‘it’s okay’ and hoping it works.
Less sad, maybe, and more lucky that he is the first living, uninfected thing that’s unappealing to The Smoker. Knowing it was direct influence from the entity might make it less insulting. Can’t get use out of the zombie if it's brainlessly attacking people it's not supposed to attack. The killers also aren’t quite human themselves, either. Twisted beyond human recognition, it makes sense that The Smoker would not recognize them as clean, and that puts it into an unknown.
The longer Hoffman talks, though, the less and less guarded it seemed to be. Despite its animalistic nature, it’s wickedly smart for what it’s working with. The pig is not a willinging attacker, or wasn’t one at all. It’s not smart enough, though, to keep its attention on one thing for long. after the locker scare has finally fully passed, and it correctly pegs Hoffman down as a non-threat, it becomes comically dismissive of the prior situation. I wasn’t scared. it seems to say, because it gives out a huff. I wasn’t scared at all.
Well, It’s not entirely dismissive of Hoffman, it's still on the opposite side of the shack, groaning and coughing while its appendages flick around lazily. It’s really got nothing else to do but stare at him, or stare out of the shacks window. And there’s nothing particularly eventful happening outside to grab its attention either, so it’s back to watching the other.
Hoffman simple stared back at it, surprised it seemed more comfortable around him. Impressive considering how often times he had a intimidating presence, but honestly, it was likely because he didn’t want to fight and decided to instead try and somewhat understand it. He has fought a lot in his life, and honestly, he was aware of that. Regretted quite a few fights or just things in general that he did.
Trials were enough for him, he didn’t want to go straight out into a fight with something that’d be nice if he was kind enough to it.
Though, Hoffman was a little bit amused about how it shrugged off what just happened, he cracked a small smile and shook his head. He didn’t blame it for dismissing it but it was funny as hell. Though, he quickly noted how it wasn’t dismissive of him either. Actually, to be exact, he was staring into his soul and it was sorta gave him the chills since that also meant he could possibly be analyzing him in some type of way. But then again, could it even see? He wasn’t completely sure, if he had to guess, it couldn’t and he was just being paranoid per usual. Old habits die hard I guess.
And yet, it still managed to be a little bit spooky to Hoffman, I mean, how could he not? The rotted flesh, the distortion of its body, it’s animalistic behavior. Ugh, creepy. Though, he was still gonna try and be somewhat decent to it. “I...” Well, as decent as he can be. He could hardly talk to people- well, anything at this point.
He was a pure introvert. He may of been a detective before but he was more of the one behind the scenes. Paperwork, choices, and of course, investigation. But he didn’t go out into the field often, nor talk to many people until he had to. So, I guess his introverted side shined brightly due to that. So he kept his mouth shut for now before slowly walking over to it, saying things so it didn’t get scared about it, plus, talking or mumbling gave it the sense of knowing where he was coming from. Perhaps it gave it a comforting vibe.
The smoker was not intimidated often. At least, not at first, not when it thinks it's narrowed in on the kill. Hoffman likely wouldn't have been an exception, under different circumstances. Its eyes remain fixated on the other, partly out of remaining caution, and partly out of an inkling of curiosity left in it's brain.
Curiosity is an essential part of human drive. It's what pushes us forward to do things. And The smoker isn't dead, not truly. It's heart never stopped beating after all. One could even argue that It's still a person, just sick.
It was more of a naive curiosity, now, watching Hoffman say whatever he's saying. It's vaguely familiar, but where? Where has it heard it? Quiet murmurs passed its ears, tugging on its brain. a vague memory is stirred, but quickly forgotten. It can't process whatever it just remembered. Unimportant to it now.
It rears its head back as Hoffman nears. If he couldn't smell The smoke that it emits then, he definitely can now. It smells unpleasant, but it's not outright revolting. Like an old abandoned house whose wood is rotting from the inside.
Hoffman just walked to the...fuck it, he didn’t truly know what you’d call it. The Smoker works well for a name considering everything. So, anyways, he walked to the Smoker, slowly just reaching for it, could he actually touch it? Maybe pet it? Well, that’s a question for both. Hoffman isn’t truly sure if he can bring himself to touch it. But, he knows it’s like a dog. He pulled his hand back before just standing in front of it.
If it wanted him to even somewhat touch it, then that’s the Smoker’s choice. He wasn’t risking it in case he got...well...I don’t know, bitten or anything. He didn’t wanna risk that.
So, he waited for it, now, he knew it really couldn’t understand him at all, so, his words meant nothing. So, it was basically a staring contest. So. Hoffman just stood in front of it. He now finally confirmed to himself that he wasn’t fuckin touching it and it’s rotten flesh. Ugh, he never wanted to. So, he gave it a little bit of space, but he didn’t wanna move away. He was curious on what it would do or what it wanted. So, he just vibes for now and waited for its reaction. Hopefully not a outburst reaction.
It groans as he nears, the appendages on its neck flicking around lazily, almost like it was waving his hand away from it. It might tolerate Hoffman, but not close proximity to it, it seems. Anything that has gotten close to it In the past either shot at it or wanted to pick a fight. The Common Infected, in particular, were nasty up close. There's a few wounds from them that the smoker is still nursing. Nasty bruises and bites, which now that Hoffman is closer, he might notice. Some may have been there for months, and yet still linger.
A moment passes, and the smoker stills again. It didn't like that at all, but the transgression is forgiven as quickly as it happened. Mainly, because, As the other neared, the glint of something on his person grabbed it's attention. It's eyes dilate like a cat, body folding almost in half and contorting weirdly as it tries to level its eyes with the badge on Hoffman's chest.
The want for personal space is forgotten immediately, because as the end of its tongue twists around its leg, a hand timidly reaches out, closing the space between Hoffman and the Smoker. Its fingers barely ghost along the surface of his badge, and for a moment, it stills.
Then the smokers fingers suddenly wrap around the sides of it, and gives the badge a violent pull, prying it off of his clothing. It retreats almost immediately to where it stood prior, flipping its prize over and over in its hands.
Hoffman just stood there, it took a moment of what just happened to sink in. His badge was practically a comfort and yet not a comfort item...well, depends on how he looks at it. On one hand, it’s a small reminder of his life before and the small bit of positivity he had with his department and a few people there that made it amazing, then again, it also reminds him of what he betray...how he used his trust in the department for his own advantage when working for John. So, to not have it, well, sorta hurt.
Well, he’s probably doesn’t mind if someone looks at it...until well, they pull a Smoker version of just straight up taking it. Then he might panic slightly, which is sorta what his mind was doing, not that he could show it. That’s weakness and well, Smoker is a hard thing to get around, especially when it comes from doing things without panicking it.
So he just stood there, silently panicking about how the hell he was gonna get it back without causing fear into the...thing across from him. I mean, he could ask but would it even understand him? Likely not if he was taking a (obvious) guess when considering everything about the creature he’s aware of so far. So, he slowly stepped forward to the Smoker. “Hey uhm. Buddy?”
Was this gonna work? Pff, probably not. But what else was he gonna do? He didn’t have a another option so...it was the best thing he could do. “Uhm...here. You can look at it but I need it back.” He slowly took another step toward the mutant in front of him. Damn he was awkward but who wouldn’t be after taming a (dog) zombie. It actually listens and is somewhat trust him, he can’t lose that, well, he’d prefer not to lose that trust at least.
Its eyes flick between Hoffman and the badge everytime the other talks. It’s only half paying attention to him, instead watching the way the dim light reflects off the badge. It stares into its own reflection, smart enough to recognize it as itself, but not enough to be repulsed, or feel anything but an almost naive sense of fascination and curiosity. It steps backwards as Hoffman nears, groaning lowly. It didn’t sound hostile for what it's worth, but the intent is clear. Had it gotten its way, it would have run off with the thing and never given it back. But it's pressed up against a wall with a guy speaking words at it. It flips the badge over again, peering at the pin on the back.
The pin holding it in place had bent from it wrenching it off of Hoffman, the sharp end of it sticking out, but thankfully, it's nothing that can't be bent back into place or repaired. Not even a scratch, which is a blessing in disguise, because the smokers nails had not naturally grown or mutated into claws. They were long and jagged, yes, but not sharpened into a weapon. Had a hunter, or even worse, a witch, wandered into the fog and done the exact same thing, the badge may have been left with permanent scratches. It puts its hands all over it, wanting to touch every part of the thing that has grabbed its attention.
Jabbing its finger into the pin by accident, it inhales, letting go of the entire badge and letting it bounce off the ground. It was a dull pain in comparison its injuries, but it was enough to draw blood, which startles it enough to no longer want anything to do with his badge. A win for hoffman, maybe?
Hoffman at that point just watched, he knew that there wasn’t much he could do here other than watch it, probably silently panic over scratches and such, sure, that was bound to happen to most people in the department, especially since they were in the field. But Hoffman was...defiant about that, he resisted letting it happened to his badge often times. He wasn’t mainly out in the field, it was rarer for him to be out in the field. But he kept his badge safe, that was the point. It had worth to him despite him betraying that honor...
So, once the badge dropped and hit the floor, he immediately caught it as it bounced back up slightly. Hoffman smiled gently at the sight of it, relieved that there wasn’t any scratches on it before he glance up at the Smoker, slipping the badge into his pocket and walked a little bit closer. “You doing okay?” His gentle tone was definitely present now, didn't wanna startle the thing...again. But anyways, it is a little bit surprising that Hoffman was actually being considerate about it and how it was doing, especially after taking something he truly cared about, perhaps the Smoker was slowly growing on him or something.
Hard to say when it came from the detective. Well, former detective. Hoffman hid his feelings often times, didn’t matter who it was, it always seemed to be tampered by him. He didn’t like showing feelings at all, showed weakness. But this time? Well, could be him either slipping up or just not caring anymore, perhaps he doesn’t mind the Smoker, plus, it can’t tell anyone if you wanna be technical. So, I guess he didn’t mind anymore. He knew it was overall not a threat until he was one, so, I guess having that as comfort along with the fact it can’t tell anyone about him or blackmail him made him alright with lightening up a little bit to it. Interesting isn’t it?