✝ : he doesn’t quite recall showing any interest in what this man was about to say, or even really looking his way. maybe while observing the area, he made eye contact for just a moment too long. now he is roped into listening to a rant he really did not have interest in. but… he might have some answers to provide. might as well indulge. who knows, he could learn a thing or two himself.
to openly speak of his own… encounters would be foolish. he isn’t even sure why this man is doing the same, especially in an unknown environment. it doesn’t seem wise at all, but he won’t stop him. if he wants to ruin his chances of succeeding in anything here, that is all on him. it’s important for the anthropologist to remain as neutral as possible.
“i believe they confiscate weapons to even the playing field. it isn’t exactly a way to prevent deaths or murder, but to have everyone start out fairly. i am led to believe people with powers had them revoked as well. as far as i know, and what research has told me, is that you can earn those things back. i am uncertain how, or the logistics of it all, but yourbeloved knives will not be gone forever, as long as you work for it. there is not more i could offer on the topic, however.”
the wooden sword that lied within his closet would prove otherwise. there’s something he could gain if he wanted to, but why not just find an easier weapon to use? it wasn’t worth the energy.
“people can murder with their bare hands. weapons are not even needed. i suppose it makes things more interesting.”
The proffered explanation served only to make things seem even more ridiculous, alighting the indignation anew. “You’re telling me that they’re trying to even the playing field, but that’s not really possible. Because, obviously, that difference still remains. I don’t mean a difference in strength or skill, though that kinda comes into play just a little bit. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” Full determined was he to refute the very notion of fairness. “I’m getting at a difference in character. Like, not just anyone has that ability, the inborn trait needed to kill.”
The true depth of importance was to be provided in full, insightful knowledge obtained through firsthand accounts. “Now, you could bring up fight or flight. How in a rush of adrenaline the sweetest person imaginable — I’m talking Mother Teresa levels here, Mother Mary in the flesh!” There was gesticulation that couldn’t be helped, sure to pervade the entirety of the sound reasoning. “Even that kind of person might kill someone without meaning to while trying to defend themselves. But there’s no intent behind it. Without intent it’s just a fortunate accident, or unfortunate, depending on the person. They got lucky and managed to live to see another day. Any other time it could’ve gone differently. They might have been unlucky and ended on the other side of the knife. It’s no better than flipping a coin and praying and hoping you get heads.” The makeshift weapon in hand is flipped demonstratively, an unnecessary action done simply to hammer the point home.
“Now for someone with intent, nothing’s left to chance. There’s not a single thing that can stand in their way. Nothing’s situational, everything is intentional because it’s their very nature. And you can’t go against your nature.” Nothing would come from attempting to dispute the very core of their being, of challenging those murderous impulses that defined their existence, defined his own existence. “It’s who you are. What you are. That doesn’t change depending on where you are, what you’re doing, what you do or don’t have.” Pessimism intertwined with realism, there was an absolution in the delivery of the belief. “In this world, fairness isn’t anything more than some bedtime story to tell the kids at night.”
