Jason had already clutched his pistol in both hands when Felicia drew her gun drawing a bead on the girl as she pulled the trigger. This time however his hand was steady.
Don't make the same mistake Jason. There might be a reason for this.
He breathed a sigh of relief when an audible click came out of the weapon and nothing happened. She was just letting off steam. Thank god he didn't do anything drastic, now he could come out and BANG
The boy flinched and the gunshot echoed around the warehouse before pulling himself together and standing up from his hiding place. He needed information and quickly. How many people were there and what had just happened? He didn't see Felicia shoot again so that must mean someone else shot right? Jason still had sight of the girl and he looked over to her. She seemed to have been standing stock still for a moment the gun in her hand smoking, no visible wounds. Pressing himself close to a nearby shipping crate Jason maneuvered to the other side to catch a glimpse at the other students. He could hear voices, muffled and distorted though they were and risked a quick peek.
Crouching down a little low he stuck his head out around the corner. Tiffany was on the ground and there was blood. Not much but Jason had seen this before. It was like a strange feeling of Déjà vu only he wasn't the one who pulled the trigger. Tiffany was pale, far too pale for someone in the land of the living and Quincy was kneeling down next to her. Jason still wasn't sure what just happened but more urgently Quincy was whipping the rifle he had strapped to his back off and raising it to a firing position. No way was he going to let someone else get killed on his watch. Stepping out of cover to get a better shot Jason prepared to shoot when a loud clatter came from behind him.
Shit!
He dove to one side just as Quincy whirled around and fired a shot in that direction, whizzing past Jason.
That boy's fast. This is going to be tough. He's a big motherfucker too, I've got to keep my distance and... shit, behind me. It could be anyone! Get in to cover Jason!
Rolling towards a small group of stacked chairs Jason risked a look at the newcomers before sticking his pistol around the corner and firing off a covering shot.
BANG
As Nathan's scraggly blond hair and green eyes came in to focus and Maf's larger unmistakable form followed suite Jason felt his whole body relax for a moment in relief before remembering Quincy was firing off at the trio and both his friends were out in the relative open.
"Nath! Maf! Get down!"
Legoland Empire
Minutes before Announcement 6
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Fanatic. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
As Nathan edged open the door, Maf took the time to prepare. Prepare for what? He didn't know what lay on the opposite of that door, and mere instinct told him that nothing would prepare him for the worst. The worst was that Jason was in the process of murdering someone. But it just couldn't be that. It couldn't.
He slipped the gun into the firing position. Something he'd become all too familiar with, unfortunately, having to use a gun like this wasn't detrimental to one's sanity or former clasps to life. He slung his bag over his shoulder, letting it fly and letting it fly far to reach up to him. And he tried to figure out what on earth he needed to say to Jason. What was going to happen, how on earth it was going down.
Of course, think too long and you get way too many of your questions answered for you.
There was a gunshot. A definite, right there. It wasn't aimed it them, that was also a definite. But then...Nathan made the mistake, some stupid mistake, of giving their position right away, like he wanted their aim to be true.
And sure enough, it happened. As Maf stepped backwards, trying to avoid his friend sprawling onto the floor, he saw the rifle, and he saw the flash of the fire. It was pure luck that the bullet imbeded itself in the door, but Maf still scrambled backwards, away from the door and away from visibility. Even with the certainty at hand that his life was no longer in danger at that fixed second.
Of course, there was every single passing fixed second to follow, and another gunshot followed. There was...something off. It wasn't the same sound. Every gunshot sounded the same, true, but it wasn't something he could explain. Just an off feeling as he tried to keep out of sight.
Yes, that question was answered quickly too.
"Nath! Maf! Get down!"
JASON.
They knew he was there, they knew something was up, but of course, it had to be him involved. Maf mentally hurdled down the track and over to the most logically conclusion in place here, but common sense told him to follow their friend's instructions.
A friend.
Forged through fire.
And here was where Maf tried to decide what he needed to do as he squatted down, out of sight, as the battle raged on outside.
You better have something, Jason.
"Nathan, the door, get away from there," Maf's words sliced through the air towards the boy on the floor.
As Nathan edged open the door, Maf took the time to prepare. Prepare for what? He didn't know what lay on the opposite of that door, and mere instinct told him that nothing would prepare him for the worst. The worst was that Jason was in the process of murdering someone. But it just couldn't be that. It couldn't.
He slipped the gun into the firing position. Something he'd become all too familiar with, unfortunately, having to use a gun like this wasn't detrimental to one's sanity or former clasps to life. He slung his bag over his shoulder, letting it fly and letting it fly far to reach up to him. And he tried to figure out what on earth he needed to say to Jason. What was going to happen, how on earth it was going down.
Of course, think too long and you get way too many of your questions answered for you.
There was a gunshot. A definite, right there. It wasn't aimed it them, that was also a definite. But then...Nathan made the mistake, some stupid mistake, of giving their position right away, like he wanted their aim to be true.
And sure enough, it happened. As Maf stepped backwards, trying to avoid his friend sprawling onto the floor, he saw the rifle, and he saw the flash of the fire. It was pure luck that the bullet imbeded itself in the door, but Maf still scrambled backwards, away from the door and away from visibility. Even with the certainty at hand that his life was no longer in danger at that fixed second.
Of course, there was every single passing fixed second to follow, and another gunshot followed. There was...something off. It wasn't the same sound. Every gunshot sounded the same, true, but it wasn't something he could explain. Just an off feeling as he tried to keep out of sight.
Yes, that question was answered quickly too.
"Nath! Maf! Get down!"
JASON.
They knew he was there, they knew something was up, but of course, it had to be him involved. Maf mentally hurdled down the track and over to the most logically conclusion in place here, but common sense told him to follow their friend's instructions.
A friend.
Forged through fire.
And here was where Maf tried to decide what he needed to do as he squatted down, out of sight, as the battle raged on outside.
You better have something, Jason.
"Nathan, the door, get away from there," Maf's words sliced through the air towards the boy on the floor.
(Short post to avoid inactivity cause seriously guys...)
Jason's ears were ringing over the sound of the bullets. Nath was one the floor and Jason wasn't sure if he was hit or not. Maf, in true Maf style was crouched down, ready to spring in to action but without guidance would do what he always did when unsure. Try not to hurt anyone. Unfortunately Jason needed him to do the exact opposite at the moment.
He only had a few darts left in his pistol and he wasn't about to waste any more. He needed his friends to start shooting or Quincy to pause. Everything was still fucked up. He needed to get back and find Brook, he needed to help Maf find Jen. Once they were all together again everything would start to make sense.
Wouldn't it?
Jason's ears were ringing over the sound of the bullets. Nath was one the floor and Jason wasn't sure if he was hit or not. Maf, in true Maf style was crouched down, ready to spring in to action but without guidance would do what he always did when unsure. Try not to hurt anyone. Unfortunately Jason needed him to do the exact opposite at the moment.
He only had a few darts left in his pistol and he wasn't about to waste any more. He needed his friends to start shooting or Quincy to pause. Everything was still fucked up. He needed to get back and find Brook, he needed to help Maf find Jen. Once they were all together again everything would start to make sense.
Wouldn't it?
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Fanatic. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((Slight godmodding of Quincy approved by the guys and gals in the sky))
((Also, sorry for the general crappiness of the post, but...Maf's needed somewhere else, and I'm about 1 hour away from inactivity, so...))
It was tense, you could cut the overall static and tense nature of the scene with a knife. Quincy was only a weed's whisper away from killing both Maf and Nathan, and Jason seemed intent on taking him out. He didn't know what to think, did Jason even know they were there before he started shooting?
It wasn't time to think of that now. Right now, things were getting too close for comfort. Someone had to do something, someone had to stop anyone else from getting hurt. Someone was already dead, so it was up to...up to someone to make sure that no one else here died.
For the first time now, Maf could see clearly. Jason was outside, taking cover after letting loose a shot at Quincy, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. He saw what was going on in there, he saw Nathan sprawled on the ground, possibly unconcious, possibly just keeping low. Maf himself saw Quincy spin around, reacting to the shot from Jason, rifle poised to kill.
And yet, every little bit of common sense Maf had told him now was the time to do something. Every little bit of common sense told him that it was up to him to make sure that no one else died. But he couldn't, could he? A lone gunman, dangerous, this wasn't going to end with a few words and pleas. This needed force.
Of course, the moment Quincy turned his head towards their friend, the shooter, Maf was on his feet. Everything was blazing through at a billions miles a second, and before he knew it, Maf, the brick shithouse of the Bayview Football Team, was barrelling towards the similarly built, but ultimately not up to scruff, boxer.
Maf caught him around the waist, and the two went flying through the air, albeit only for a minimally short time. Just like that, the gun was spinning across the cement floor, and the Fijian boy got his wish. Quincy was down.
But every instinct came rushing back behind him, and in a matter of seconds, he was back on his feet again, shocked, no, scared at what he'd done.
No, no I-I shouldn't have done that...
That was how the most important, scarring event of his natural life started. A tackle.
Not again.
Not. Again. No way. If there was one mistep in that, one little thing out of line, then it was that same disaster all over again, all caused by him, again.
In those sparse few seconds he had between Quincy having the ability to get up, and him being floored, Maf made his decision. His feet absentmindedly shifted backwards, not of his own will. His breath grew silent. He turned his head, looking around at the people there, people watching. Jason, that girl with the look in her eyes of sheer horror, or something like that, Nathan as well. The dead girl with her shocked face and eyes just...just staring out at him, watching him, looking at him, judging him.
He...no, he couldn't...he couldn't deal with this, not at all. Not again.
Not.
Again.
Maf's eyes flew to the exit, and his feet quickly followed suit, dragging him along for the ride. He had to get away. Away from all of them.
Before he knew it, the air was no longer stale and stagnant, but the wind flew by viciously, as the Fijian ran as far as he could make it.
((Ma'afu Tuigamala continues in The Dream Was Just The Same))
((Also, sorry for the general crappiness of the post, but...Maf's needed somewhere else, and I'm about 1 hour away from inactivity, so...))
It was tense, you could cut the overall static and tense nature of the scene with a knife. Quincy was only a weed's whisper away from killing both Maf and Nathan, and Jason seemed intent on taking him out. He didn't know what to think, did Jason even know they were there before he started shooting?
It wasn't time to think of that now. Right now, things were getting too close for comfort. Someone had to do something, someone had to stop anyone else from getting hurt. Someone was already dead, so it was up to...up to someone to make sure that no one else here died.
For the first time now, Maf could see clearly. Jason was outside, taking cover after letting loose a shot at Quincy, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. He saw what was going on in there, he saw Nathan sprawled on the ground, possibly unconcious, possibly just keeping low. Maf himself saw Quincy spin around, reacting to the shot from Jason, rifle poised to kill.
And yet, every little bit of common sense Maf had told him now was the time to do something. Every little bit of common sense told him that it was up to him to make sure that no one else died. But he couldn't, could he? A lone gunman, dangerous, this wasn't going to end with a few words and pleas. This needed force.
Of course, the moment Quincy turned his head towards their friend, the shooter, Maf was on his feet. Everything was blazing through at a billions miles a second, and before he knew it, Maf, the brick shithouse of the Bayview Football Team, was barrelling towards the similarly built, but ultimately not up to scruff, boxer.
Maf caught him around the waist, and the two went flying through the air, albeit only for a minimally short time. Just like that, the gun was spinning across the cement floor, and the Fijian boy got his wish. Quincy was down.
But every instinct came rushing back behind him, and in a matter of seconds, he was back on his feet again, shocked, no, scared at what he'd done.
No, no I-I shouldn't have done that...
That was how the most important, scarring event of his natural life started. A tackle.
Not again.
Not. Again. No way. If there was one mistep in that, one little thing out of line, then it was that same disaster all over again, all caused by him, again.
In those sparse few seconds he had between Quincy having the ability to get up, and him being floored, Maf made his decision. His feet absentmindedly shifted backwards, not of his own will. His breath grew silent. He turned his head, looking around at the people there, people watching. Jason, that girl with the look in her eyes of sheer horror, or something like that, Nathan as well. The dead girl with her shocked face and eyes just...just staring out at him, watching him, looking at him, judging him.
He...no, he couldn't...he couldn't deal with this, not at all. Not again.
Not.
Again.
Maf's eyes flew to the exit, and his feet quickly followed suit, dragging him along for the ride. He had to get away. Away from all of them.
Before he knew it, the air was no longer stale and stagnant, but the wind flew by viciously, as the Fijian ran as far as he could make it.
((Ma'afu Tuigamala continues in The Dream Was Just The Same))
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
((Same disclaimer as Inky, at least generally. I can't be buggered to check because this is so half-assed.))
Felicia waited for her death. The death that she called upon herself for her terrible mistake, now her greatest crime. The death that she truly deserved, even though it also meant ending her suffering. The death that never came.
Amidst the terrible echoing gunshots that bounced off the walls of the building and repeatedly assaulted her ears, another sound came from nearby. Footsteps, somebody barreling towards her or at least in her general direction. Frightened and confused further by this and the delay in what should have been a bullet puncturing her brain, Felicia looked up just in time to see somebody strike Quincy with his entire body. She knew him, just like she had a handle for just about anybody at... at that school, but no name came. Even Quincy's name was nearly lost. In fact, all that really seemed important was that she had a moment.
With Quincy displaced and the boy suddenly running towards the opposite side of the warehouse, his path allowed Felicia to see her target once more. She stared at the door that had been flung open by her savior's flight, and thought nothing more on the subject. She picked up the gun that had now killed two people, stumbled only once or twice under the weight of her daypack, and didn't even look at Tiffany as she ran for her life.
I just want to find Rosa...
I just want Rosa...
I just... Rosa...
((Felicia Carmichael, continued in The man your man could smell like))
Felicia waited for her death. The death that she called upon herself for her terrible mistake, now her greatest crime. The death that she truly deserved, even though it also meant ending her suffering. The death that never came.
Amidst the terrible echoing gunshots that bounced off the walls of the building and repeatedly assaulted her ears, another sound came from nearby. Footsteps, somebody barreling towards her or at least in her general direction. Frightened and confused further by this and the delay in what should have been a bullet puncturing her brain, Felicia looked up just in time to see somebody strike Quincy with his entire body. She knew him, just like she had a handle for just about anybody at... at that school, but no name came. Even Quincy's name was nearly lost. In fact, all that really seemed important was that she had a moment.
With Quincy displaced and the boy suddenly running towards the opposite side of the warehouse, his path allowed Felicia to see her target once more. She stared at the door that had been flung open by her savior's flight, and thought nothing more on the subject. She picked up the gun that had now killed two people, stumbled only once or twice under the weight of her daypack, and didn't even look at Tiffany as she ran for her life.
I just want to find Rosa...
I just want Rosa...
I just... Rosa...
((Felicia Carmichael, continued in The man your man could smell like))
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GregTheAnti-Viking†
- Posts: 267
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:10 am
Nathan felt the time slowing down. In spite of this, his heart kept beating away. The only sense that he was able to recognize at the time. He felt his chest, padding himself back up and down.
Nothing. A relief. A minimal relief, but a relief none the less.
His body slid down the wall until he was splayed down on the floor. The dim glow of the hanging light causing him to squint.
What now?
He shifted his head to his side and saw his pistol staring back at him. His hand strained out to clutch the handle. He placed the pistol on his chest, letting it rise and fall with every breath.
He was going to do something stupid. He was going to go up, and he was going to point his empty gun at the attacker and he was going to look like a fool. But they had to get out of here. There was no choice. Nathan glanced up to Maf, and opened his mouth to speak.
He never got to speak, Maf gave him a look and then ran out the door. Nathan bolted up to his feet and turned to see what happened. He couldn't believe it. Maf beat him to it. The Fijian tackled their assailant and as quick as he had done so, he ran
Nathan couldn't wait any longer. If he did, it'd be back to square one. He grabed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He went to the door and froze for a moment, taking a glance at Jason.
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His hands tightened around the backpack strap and Nathan followed the Fijian.
If Jason followed him, so be it. But he still had to give out answers.
That is, If Nathan didn't just give him a target to shoot at.
((Nathan Choultard continued in I Will Follow You into the Dark))
Nothing. A relief. A minimal relief, but a relief none the less.
His body slid down the wall until he was splayed down on the floor. The dim glow of the hanging light causing him to squint.
What now?
He shifted his head to his side and saw his pistol staring back at him. His hand strained out to clutch the handle. He placed the pistol on his chest, letting it rise and fall with every breath.
He was going to do something stupid. He was going to go up, and he was going to point his empty gun at the attacker and he was going to look like a fool. But they had to get out of here. There was no choice. Nathan glanced up to Maf, and opened his mouth to speak.
He never got to speak, Maf gave him a look and then ran out the door. Nathan bolted up to his feet and turned to see what happened. He couldn't believe it. Maf beat him to it. The Fijian tackled their assailant and as quick as he had done so, he ran
Nathan couldn't wait any longer. If he did, it'd be back to square one. He grabed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He went to the door and froze for a moment, taking a glance at Jason.
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His hands tightened around the backpack strap and Nathan followed the Fijian.
If Jason followed him, so be it. But he still had to give out answers.
That is, If Nathan didn't just give him a target to shoot at.
((Nathan Choultard continued in I Will Follow You into the Dark))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler GregTheAnti-Viking. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Maf had plowed through Quincy with all the force of a runaway road train and Nathan had followed quickly in his wake with nary a look to the beleaguered Jason. Arguably the scene was a little chaotic but still the Australian couldn't figure out why they hadn't said a word. He wanted to explain what was going on but the two had scampered before he had a chance. Something must of happened, he reasoned to himself. Maf and Nathan would never leave him hanging by himself. Especially with someone firing at him.
Shit shit shit shit
Jason scrambled across slightly to get a better vantage point of what was going on as Nathan burst out of the warehouse.
I should call out to him, tell him to stop... but Quincy's still alive I don't want to get shot.
Despite the situation Jason smiled to himself.
heh, I'm a poet and I didn't know it.
It was then he saw it. Two bodies half covered by fallen crates and two packs. Two packs.
Water. Food. Gear?
Quincy was down for a second meaning Jason had a choice. He could chase after Nathan and Maf, or grab that stuff. He looked up at the slowly closing door of the warehouse and then back to the crates.
They won't get far I can catch them. There might be someone good in those bags. I have to try. I have to
Grabbing the straps of the backpacks he teased them from their owners, watching carefully in case the crates decided to move further. The next few seconds felt like an eternity as he heard Quincy scrambling to his feet from somewhere behind him. A shout? Jason wasn't sure and then footsteps.
Come on, come on, come on.
The first pack was out. Pretty weighty, something was in it. He went for the second. Footsteps, closer this time. This bag was a little harder to pull out. A shiny glint caught his eye though. A small paring knife was grasped in the hand of one of the crushed boys. Not a gun, but better than nothing. Quickly Jason pried open the fingers and pocketed the blade. Quincy was definitely close and he was far stronger than Jason. If they got in to a fight the wiry boy knew he wouldn't last long. Bouncing to his feet Jason broken in to a sprint, his new found prizes in his right hand, his pistol in the left.
He should of shot Quincy then and there while he was on the ground. That was the smart thing to do.
He should of chased down Nathan and Maf straight after.
Should've, would've could've. Still time to catch them. I can explain, I can fix this. They'll stop and we can find Brook and I'll fix everything. More than half the class is dead and we're still alive. We'll group up and this time there will be no mistakes. There's still time.
Grabbing a piece of metal on his way out Jason chucked it behind him, hoping to delay Quincy before shouldering the back door of the warehouse open and sprinting in to sunlight.
"Nathan! Maf! Wait..."
((Jason Harris continued in I will follow you in to the Dark))
Shit shit shit shit
Jason scrambled across slightly to get a better vantage point of what was going on as Nathan burst out of the warehouse.
I should call out to him, tell him to stop... but Quincy's still alive I don't want to get shot.
Despite the situation Jason smiled to himself.
heh, I'm a poet and I didn't know it.
It was then he saw it. Two bodies half covered by fallen crates and two packs. Two packs.
Water. Food. Gear?
Quincy was down for a second meaning Jason had a choice. He could chase after Nathan and Maf, or grab that stuff. He looked up at the slowly closing door of the warehouse and then back to the crates.
They won't get far I can catch them. There might be someone good in those bags. I have to try. I have to
Grabbing the straps of the backpacks he teased them from their owners, watching carefully in case the crates decided to move further. The next few seconds felt like an eternity as he heard Quincy scrambling to his feet from somewhere behind him. A shout? Jason wasn't sure and then footsteps.
Come on, come on, come on.
The first pack was out. Pretty weighty, something was in it. He went for the second. Footsteps, closer this time. This bag was a little harder to pull out. A shiny glint caught his eye though. A small paring knife was grasped in the hand of one of the crushed boys. Not a gun, but better than nothing. Quickly Jason pried open the fingers and pocketed the blade. Quincy was definitely close and he was far stronger than Jason. If they got in to a fight the wiry boy knew he wouldn't last long. Bouncing to his feet Jason broken in to a sprint, his new found prizes in his right hand, his pistol in the left.
He should of shot Quincy then and there while he was on the ground. That was the smart thing to do.
He should of chased down Nathan and Maf straight after.
Should've, would've could've. Still time to catch them. I can explain, I can fix this. They'll stop and we can find Brook and I'll fix everything. More than half the class is dead and we're still alive. We'll group up and this time there will be no mistakes. There's still time.
Grabbing a piece of metal on his way out Jason chucked it behind him, hoping to delay Quincy before shouldering the back door of the warehouse open and sprinting in to sunlight.
"Nathan! Maf! Wait..."
((Jason Harris continued in I will follow you in to the Dark))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Fanatic. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((This is a DZ, and Quincy's still in adoption limbo, so he's getting yanked into elsewhere-land so as not to explode))
Quincy pulled himself to his feet. They were gone. The tackle had stung, but not as badly as everything else that had occurred here. He had no idea what had come over 'licia, but he had to find out. Something was wrong with everything. He snatched up his gun again. There were people here. They had been with 'licia before. Maybe they'd done something to her. Maybe they knew what was wrong.
He'd have answers.
Most of them had left, but it sounded like one boy was still there, rooting around. Quincy headed that way. He was pretty sure he could take any of these guys in a fight. It had been a lucky blow that dropped him earlier, a lucky shot when he hadn't been expecting a physical assault. He wouldn't get careless again.
Something clattered near him, and he dived behind a stack of crates, banging his knee slightly. It didn't matter. If that was a grenade, he'd need all the cover he could get, though he'd be lucky if the explosion didn't push the pile of boxes over onto him.
He waited one long second.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Nothing.
Peeking out, he saw it was nothing more than a piece of scrap metal. The other boy had escaped. Quincy let out a growl of frustration, then headed for the door. Maybe he'd still be able to find them. Maybe he'd see them running off and be able to catch up. He needed some answers.
((Quincy Jones continued in Never To Be Found))
Quincy pulled himself to his feet. They were gone. The tackle had stung, but not as badly as everything else that had occurred here. He had no idea what had come over 'licia, but he had to find out. Something was wrong with everything. He snatched up his gun again. There were people here. They had been with 'licia before. Maybe they'd done something to her. Maybe they knew what was wrong.
He'd have answers.
Most of them had left, but it sounded like one boy was still there, rooting around. Quincy headed that way. He was pretty sure he could take any of these guys in a fight. It had been a lucky blow that dropped him earlier, a lucky shot when he hadn't been expecting a physical assault. He wouldn't get careless again.
Something clattered near him, and he dived behind a stack of crates, banging his knee slightly. It didn't matter. If that was a grenade, he'd need all the cover he could get, though he'd be lucky if the explosion didn't push the pile of boxes over onto him.
He waited one long second.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Nothing.
Peeking out, he saw it was nothing more than a piece of scrap metal. The other boy had escaped. Quincy let out a growl of frustration, then headed for the door. Maybe he'd still be able to find them. Maybe he'd see them running off and be able to catch up. He needed some answers.
((Quincy Jones continued in Never To Be Found))
