Hank Walker's Questionnaire

After a long silence, Hank gives a long, exasperated sigh, rubbing his eyes with one hand. Giving the indistinguishable figure in the dark end of the table a look, he speaks.

"...Is this- really the kind of questions you're gonna make? elementary school type stuff? What are you, gonna grade me or somethin- Fine, fine... I'll answer.
Fort Wayne. Quaint city in Indiana, not too crowded, not too empty. Not too fancy, not too ugly. The rent is good, which is the main reason I'm there, really. My house is... well, I'm sure you already know where it is, since I'm here to begin with, don't you? ...Right, right... I'll stick to answering. It's nothing special, it looks like pretty much any other house there. It's nice, though, I guess. I got lucky enough to get a two story. I didn't really touch the outside much, it's still the same as I bought it. Light beige... ish, walls. Dark brown roof tiles, just at the edge of a treeline with a river behind it."

He stops talking for a moment, before nodding.

"Yeah. It's got a small garage. Yes, I have a car, but it's broken, I need to get it fixed. Sometime."

"I'm a guard. Private security, the kind that you find patrolling places at night or making sure you don't hop over the gates. It's a... decent job. Most of the time I spend just hanging around, giving directions to some old lady, or the sorts... Disputes are usually solved peacefully, after all."

He takes a moment, looking at the table. His hands, too.

"...Usually. There was this one night. Probably the whole reason I'm here, really. I heard a noise, went to investigate, as I'm supposed to do, right? Well, I saw what I thought was just a big ass dog, but uh. It turned to face me, and it turned out to not be a dog at all. It was- huh? You don't c- what I spend it on? Are you serious?"

He seems baffled, quiet for a moment with an ajar mouth, before giving a deep sigh with his hand running down his face.

"I dunno. Depends on what I want. After groceries and the such, I usually save it up for when I actually need it, or just buy videogames. That what you wanted? Right."

Hank thinks about this for a bit longer than the other questions. Eventually, though, he simply shrugs, before answering.

"Well. Survival's a good ambition, right? With the shit I got infected with, I'm pretty much fucked. Everyone knows what people do to werewolves once they get found. Or come out of hiding. They get killed. By their neighbors, by vigilantes, or... fuck, I heard the CIA also does that kind of stuff every now and then if the public doesn't get to them first. Not ideal, huh?"

He takes another pause, looking at his hands as he taps the table a few times with long spaces in between. He keeps talking while he taps, unsure if what he's saying is entirely stupid or not.

"...I was thinking, maybe there's a way to stop this shit. It'd be nice to not walk around landmines some day. ...I don't know how I'm gonna do this. Form a movement? Fund some rehabilitation program? Maybe they find a cure? Hell, I could just do enough of these contract things to get powerful enough to brush off any hunter wannabes, right? ...Either way, I'll need anything I can get, and I'd rather not sit around for someone to solve my issues for me."

"As for the last question... I'll die if I don't do anything about it, anyways, won't I? I guess I'll know how far I'm willing to go when the moment comes, but... The main idea is to not die, after all. I guess it's complicated."

"Ah. This is why you cut me off. Right." He clears his throat, shifting position on the chair a little. Despite the understanding, he still seems kind of annoyed. "As I was saying..."

"I heard a nosie during one of my shifts, poked my head around the alley it was coming from to see what it was. It sounded like whining, some hurt animal. And, I did see a dog. Or I thought so, at least. I walked up to it, wanted to see if I could look at whatever the would was and see if I could help, but, uh. When it turned. It wasn't a dog. It was a werewolf. There was barely a second from the moment it turned to just- waking up in a corner, close to the place I saw the dog at, out of sight, and everything on me. ...-Plus a bite mark on the arm."

"...I guess I just thought my mind was making shit up. I thought I just got knocked out by a thief and my brain was just- justifying it, since the place I was guarding was broken into. Nothing was reported stolen though, and they never called me about it. I... Still don't know what that was about. Hm? Oh, a uh. It was a small warehouse by the docks, there were other guards, but no one saw anything. I don't know if that's a good thing, honestly. So- I never went to the hospital. Then, on a full moon, I had my first transformation. I was home, and I managed to cuff myself to my bed. I ended up trashing the place, but thankfully I didn't manage to break it or the cuffs, so I couldn't get out. And to think I was gonna throw that metal bedframe out..."

He's barely looking at the figure now, recalling the events- or what he can piece together. After a long pause, he adds.

"Since then, I've bolted everything I could to the floor or walls, and I keep constant track of the moon phase. It's... terrifying every month, but at least I won't be getting out any time soon. ...I hope. But, there's always this constant fear that people will find out. It's stressing, keeps me up at night sometimes when someone says anything that remotely sounds like they got me. Hate it, I just wish I could do something about it. ...And I can't help but think about other people going through the same shit, you know?"