Zack wasn’t sure what to think of this city, but wandering confusion shifted quickly to alarm as he saw a man in a cap covered in blood. He rushed over to the stranger, the urge to help overcoming his rising panic.
He paused just out of arm’s reach of him, holding up his hands like he was going to support him but hesitated to reach out without asking.
“Oh man, are you okay? That’s a lot of blood—damn, I don’t have a first aid kit on me…”
Of course he didn’t have a first aid kit on him. All he had on him was a wooden sword he’d gotten from some faceless scientists, even the thought causing a shiver to run down his spine… But that was at least easily pushed aside when he had a crisis to deal with.
“Where’s this blood coming from?” Maybe if he knew the source, he could at least help staunch the flow… Sure, he had some medical training, and it wasn’t like he’d never had the chance to use it, but he still couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed in the face of this kind of situation.
The word runs through the Batter’s head repeatedly as he wanders District Zeta. He’s seen the people, he’s purified some of the people, but the fact that they’re as numerous as the sewer rats disgust him. His new mission is clear: purify this district, clean it from the sins that have plagued this city for God knows how long. Its vices can be felt with each step he takes, and he vows he shall be the savior this damned place has been lacking.
Hearing Zack, however, takes him out of his trance. Voices of others don’t always register with him, but this time, it (unfortunately) has. Only when the other points it out does he realize how much blood is dripping off of him. It could be worse, he thinks.
There isn’t a “good” answer to his question, but that certainly is the right one. The Batter takes a step away from Zack, not wishing to be touched by (presumably) impure hands. Although it’s tempting to strike, it’s not like this guy has done anything that requires divine intervention quite yet.