Post by omega on Aug 30, 2022 12:38:07 GMT -5
If a man, through sheer luck or even divine intervention, did not gain tinnitus from one work shift, that man would be a national hero. And to be frank with himself, Janusz did not feel like a national hero in any way. The last eight hours were spent hammering down anything wooden, operating whatever machinery was at the construction site, and then driving in trucks clearly not meant for the stress testing they were being put through, engines sputtering and wheezing in the most infuriating ways. He could only thank God that this was the last delivery he'd make before he was granted his, admittedly, long overdue break.
Driving from one end of Volgora to the other was, on the best of days, quite a breeze, and perhaps even a relaxing experience for whoever owned an automobile. On a normal day, one would get into at least one traffic jam, and then be on his merry way. But with reconstruction still ongoing, and with a truck that was waiting to keel over? Janusz did not enjoy his chances of a straightforward trip. Doubly so, given the materials were outside the city.
He kept his eyes on the road, and occasionally, glancing to where he knew the engine was inside the truck, noticing no smoke thus far. This was good, he thought, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, the respite from attentive driving quickly coming to him. Not by much, but it was certainly enough for the mind to relax. The truck wasn't fast, what with the added weight of materials needed for the building he called his workplace, but that was fine. He could rest, figuratively speaking.
Two minutes of near total silence. Calming, mind-numbing silence. His mind could, at long last, rest easy, unwind from the stress of life. Worrying about everything except being shot by a stray bullet was, for lack of a better word, not productive for the immigrant. Especially for an immigrant.
The moment his eyes closed for one, two, three, four seconds, a loud bang and subsequent thunk snapped him out of his little mental oasis. The engine sputtered as Janusz slammed his foot onto the break, quieting down and turning off as soon as the truck came to a halt. He swore silently, and then rushed out of the truck. It was dark, but not dark enough to be unable to see what was ahead of him. And what lay ahead of him was something so imbecilic, that even a child would do a better job at making it. An explosive device of some sort, smashed into pieces, and certainly heavy enough to have dented the front of the truck. It had made him almost forget the other reason why he went out, quickly moving in a small jog to the front. Attempting to open the chassis was difficult when it was bent, but with enough... liberal, application of force, he popped open the lid which kept everything safe from the elements... and cursed the moment he saw the insides.
He was no automobile engineer, and neither was he interested in being one, but he knew just enough to know that, without a doubt, a half-crumpled engine block was not a good thing. One quarter of the parts was bent much like the chassis, another quarter embedded into the rest of the components that remained intact. He could smell the sickly odor of something vaguely reminding him of charred wood, but he didn't know where exactly it was. And the last quarter was... he didn't even want to know where it went, given it was gone.
He sighed heavily, slamming the hood down to keep it shut, and thought. Not much he could do, except-
Rage built up faster than thoughts, and his foot connected with the nearby tire, slamming into it. And again, and again, until he could scarcely feel his leg. He was sure he screamed in frustration at one point, but the sensation of letting out these emotions overpowered his cognitive capabilities. By the time he calmed down, his eyes were blinking wildly, disbelief in the entire situation on his face. If there was any consolation Janusz knew about, it was the fact that whoever planted the bomb sure as shit wouldn't shoot him, given he was helping reconstruct the capitol - at least no one wanted to add "potential murder" to the list of worries his line of work had.
He sat back inside, huffing deeply. He wasn't stupid, though. Immigrants weren't exactly liked that much, though that opinion greatly varied depending on where said immigrants came from. Help would take a while to come. Janusz did his best to keep himself busy while some poor sod in another automobile came by, could (hopefully) drag him back to the city. If he wasn't someone who'd shoot him simply for being part-Oflyan, naturally. With resignation and deeper hatred for whatever asshole put a bomb that didn't even explode in the middle of the road, Janusz Kolarčević went out again to take inventory of the items needed. Hopefully that would help. Likely not.
Driving from one end of Volgora to the other was, on the best of days, quite a breeze, and perhaps even a relaxing experience for whoever owned an automobile. On a normal day, one would get into at least one traffic jam, and then be on his merry way. But with reconstruction still ongoing, and with a truck that was waiting to keel over? Janusz did not enjoy his chances of a straightforward trip. Doubly so, given the materials were outside the city.
He kept his eyes on the road, and occasionally, glancing to where he knew the engine was inside the truck, noticing no smoke thus far. This was good, he thought, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, the respite from attentive driving quickly coming to him. Not by much, but it was certainly enough for the mind to relax. The truck wasn't fast, what with the added weight of materials needed for the building he called his workplace, but that was fine. He could rest, figuratively speaking.
Two minutes of near total silence. Calming, mind-numbing silence. His mind could, at long last, rest easy, unwind from the stress of life. Worrying about everything except being shot by a stray bullet was, for lack of a better word, not productive for the immigrant. Especially for an immigrant.
The moment his eyes closed for one, two, three, four seconds, a loud bang and subsequent thunk snapped him out of his little mental oasis. The engine sputtered as Janusz slammed his foot onto the break, quieting down and turning off as soon as the truck came to a halt. He swore silently, and then rushed out of the truck. It was dark, but not dark enough to be unable to see what was ahead of him. And what lay ahead of him was something so imbecilic, that even a child would do a better job at making it. An explosive device of some sort, smashed into pieces, and certainly heavy enough to have dented the front of the truck. It had made him almost forget the other reason why he went out, quickly moving in a small jog to the front. Attempting to open the chassis was difficult when it was bent, but with enough... liberal, application of force, he popped open the lid which kept everything safe from the elements... and cursed the moment he saw the insides.
He was no automobile engineer, and neither was he interested in being one, but he knew just enough to know that, without a doubt, a half-crumpled engine block was not a good thing. One quarter of the parts was bent much like the chassis, another quarter embedded into the rest of the components that remained intact. He could smell the sickly odor of something vaguely reminding him of charred wood, but he didn't know where exactly it was. And the last quarter was... he didn't even want to know where it went, given it was gone.
He sighed heavily, slamming the hood down to keep it shut, and thought. Not much he could do, except-
Rage built up faster than thoughts, and his foot connected with the nearby tire, slamming into it. And again, and again, until he could scarcely feel his leg. He was sure he screamed in frustration at one point, but the sensation of letting out these emotions overpowered his cognitive capabilities. By the time he calmed down, his eyes were blinking wildly, disbelief in the entire situation on his face. If there was any consolation Janusz knew about, it was the fact that whoever planted the bomb sure as shit wouldn't shoot him, given he was helping reconstruct the capitol - at least no one wanted to add "potential murder" to the list of worries his line of work had.
He sat back inside, huffing deeply. He wasn't stupid, though. Immigrants weren't exactly liked that much, though that opinion greatly varied depending on where said immigrants came from. Help would take a while to come. Janusz did his best to keep himself busy while some poor sod in another automobile came by, could (hopefully) drag him back to the city. If he wasn't someone who'd shoot him simply for being part-Oflyan, naturally. With resignation and deeper hatred for whatever asshole put a bomb that didn't even explode in the middle of the road, Janusz Kolarčević went out again to take inventory of the items needed. Hopefully that would help. Likely not.