Where did it go?
They wouldn’t have taken it, would they? The infected obsessively pursued fragments, driven by whatever strange virus had overridden their mental faculties, but that? Why would they? It didn’t look that similar -- it wasn’t even the same shape or colors, though it was similarly small with an odd shiny surface, so maybe to their addled minds...
Even if they had, though, he couldn’t go chasing down every infected in the city in this state. Norman straightened up to lean on the iron pipe that had become his constant companion, even more so now that he’d managed to twist his ankle while retreating from an unfortunate run-in with them earlier. That was when he’d lost it, as far as he could figure. His Triplicata had been in his pocket, last he’d checked, but most likely it had been jostled out of his pocket sometime in his desperate escape.
He had taken a fall, and had forced himself to get back up and keep running despite the pain in his leg. The damage didn’t seem to be terribly extensive, but he still found it rather painful to walk on. It had seemed best to retreat and rest it for now, but he knew for a fact the residential district would be more risky to pass through in order to get to his room, with so many passing through with fragments to deliver them to the drop point. He’d thought to see if he could contact his servant with the device, for him to come and make sure that Norman could make it there safely, but...
He’d doubled back as soon as he’d realized it was missing, just a bit panicked. The object had been a lifeline: map, means of communication, monetary exchange... Who knew if it could even be replaced? Lucky him, the area where he’d fallen had cleared out enough to search reasonably safely, but it was a larger area, out in the open, and he couldn’t remember exactly where he’d fallen. Where could it have...
The boy had looked under and around cars, along the gutter on both sides of the street (he desperately hoped it hadn’t ended up down one of the drains somehow), along the sidewalk -- nothing. Not a trace. He heaved a sigh and cast one last glance around him, along the still empty sidewalk. Maybe if he searched further up...
And, as it had been for the past hour, luck seemed to be dead set against him. Norman started to limp his way up the street, reluctant to place too much weight on his leg, and caught sight of another young man. Not an especially notable fellow, apart from the enormous scythe he bore -- but that had become a rather typical sight, Norman thought, a little ruefully. He would have passed the other by had he not seen him bend down to pick up something...small...and blue... Ah.
Well, best not to let his frustration show. He put on a polite smile and tried not to act in too much of a hurry making his way toward the blond. “Excuse me! I’m sorry. That’s mine.”
“I dropped it earlier. Ah, my name is Norman, if you’d like to double check that it really belongs to me.” He offered a little chuckle. “It would really be unfortunate for someone to try to steal a Triplicata, wouldn’t it?” To steal someone’s identity, and funds, and lifeline, essentially crippling them. But you wouldn’t do that, would you, Mr. Scythe? Of course not!
Not that Norman was entirely sure what he would do about it if the other did decide to pull something like that. He’d almost have preferred that the infected ended up with it... They were a bit easier to deal with than the business end of a scythe, that was for sure.
@ilfaux
