((continued from The Kid's Aren't Alright))
Steve had been walking for what seemed like hours, the whole time not bothering to look behind him and see if Courtney was keeping up or not. Stumbling onto the grounds which housed the island jailhouse, he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Finally I can sit down." He mumbled.
Despite being in top physical condition, the terrain on the island wasn't exactly the friendliest he'd ever encountered. He felt like he'd rolled his ankle about 17 times on the way over, not to mention the fighting with the jungle brush had left him with a bunch of annoying little cuts and scrapes.
The jailhouse looked a lot smaller from the outside, but as Steve approached the front door, he could tell that looks were indeed deceiving. The front door creaked open as Steve stepped inside. It was quite plain on the inside, but Steve hadn't really expected a jailhouse to be like the Hilton the team had once stayed in when they had a trip to Los Angeles for a tournament.
Those were the good days. Steve thought as he chuckled to himself remembering some of the team's antics at the hotel. To many Paris jokes, too many trashed rooms, and even an incident that left the star QB walking back to his room in nothing but his birthday suit.
Steve continued walking down the pathway from the door, glancing at the surrounding jail cells. Most of their doors were open, probably from when the Danya people had cleared the island. He decided to check out the upstairs, and made his way cautiously up the staircase.
For all I know, there might be weapons leftover upstairs.
Steve reached the top of the stairs, and found nothing but a wall of bars separating him from the officer's quarters. The door however was open, so Steve slowly pushed his way through. He immediately went for the office on his left.
Warden's Office eh. Wonder if the warden had any protection.
Steve went into the office which was adorned with books on law, a few small chairs, a desk, small window and some diplomas and awards on the walls. He went around to the other side of the desk and started fumbling through the drawers. His search came up empty. Not even any keys for the cells downstairs could be found.
Mumbling some curse words as he exited the office, Steve made his way to the officers room.
"Oh come the fuck on." He said in a mix of sarcasm and disappointment.
The officer's quarters had indeed held what he came looking for. Unfortunately for Steve, more than likely because Steve had come to think this Danya fuck liked to toy with their minds, all of the lovely weapons the officer's had had at one point were disassembled to the point that no one in their right mind could figure out how to put them together. Steve continued on looking through each of the lockers, finding nothing except for a moldy old boot and a few rats who'd made their home in said boot.
"As you were." Steve said to the rats as he placed the boot back as he'd found it.
He quickly found a bed and sat down on it. He started humming the tune of Stare at the Sun by Thrice as he thought about what to do next.
Those Who Stray...
Stuff. Things. Stuff and things.
((Randy's gone over three weeks with no post from his handler. As such, he's been declared inactive and I'll be taking him over to remove him from the area.))
Rather than chase after the people he had so easily spotted standing on the stairwell, Randy simply let them go. Prey was far more fun to hunt when it was on the run, after all. Unfortunately, he hadn't counted on the two making such a bold move as jumping from the window.
After several hours of prolonged silence, Randy had decided to investigate, wondering if perhaps he'd stumbled upon two lovers bent on hiding away the rest of the game upstairs. Needless to say, he'd found himself completely dumbfounded by the fact that his prey had suddenly disappeared. The open window was a tell-tale sign of where they had gone.
Since then, he had been sitting upstairs in the officer's quarters, dutifully watching the pathway to the jailhouse. He'd dozed off for a few minutes here and there during the night, and had gone to the bathroom a few times, but other than that had not left his post. When he saw Steve Digaetano wandering up to the jailhouse, he grinned maliciously.
Part of Randy wanted to attack him while he was least suspecting it. Still, part of him wondered if it was such a good idea to attack someone who he knew nothing of, other than his inherent athleticism. For all he knew, he might've been packing a huge gun, like the last boy had. Randy's eyes darted to the still-open window beside him as he heard the boy's footsteps echoing on the ground below.
"I suppose I'll be taking a page from your book, then," he mused with a twisted grin before launching himself and his daypack from the window and landing with a thud below.
None too soon, either. A few moments after he had descended to the floor of foliage outside of the jailhouse and hidden himself in the bushes, he noticed the head of one, Steve Digaetano, from the open window above. Randy smirked lightly as he watched the other boy. He seemed to be searching for something, perhaps attempting to get creative with some spare parts he could find around the jailhouse?
"I best be taking my leave, then," Randy muttered before vanishing into the underbrush.
((Continued elsewhere.))
Rather than chase after the people he had so easily spotted standing on the stairwell, Randy simply let them go. Prey was far more fun to hunt when it was on the run, after all. Unfortunately, he hadn't counted on the two making such a bold move as jumping from the window.
After several hours of prolonged silence, Randy had decided to investigate, wondering if perhaps he'd stumbled upon two lovers bent on hiding away the rest of the game upstairs. Needless to say, he'd found himself completely dumbfounded by the fact that his prey had suddenly disappeared. The open window was a tell-tale sign of where they had gone.
Since then, he had been sitting upstairs in the officer's quarters, dutifully watching the pathway to the jailhouse. He'd dozed off for a few minutes here and there during the night, and had gone to the bathroom a few times, but other than that had not left his post. When he saw Steve Digaetano wandering up to the jailhouse, he grinned maliciously.
Part of Randy wanted to attack him while he was least suspecting it. Still, part of him wondered if it was such a good idea to attack someone who he knew nothing of, other than his inherent athleticism. For all he knew, he might've been packing a huge gun, like the last boy had. Randy's eyes darted to the still-open window beside him as he heard the boy's footsteps echoing on the ground below.
"I suppose I'll be taking a page from your book, then," he mused with a twisted grin before launching himself and his daypack from the window and landing with a thud below.
None too soon, either. A few moments after he had descended to the floor of foliage outside of the jailhouse and hidden himself in the bushes, he noticed the head of one, Steve Digaetano, from the open window above. Randy smirked lightly as he watched the other boy. He seemed to be searching for something, perhaps attempting to get creative with some spare parts he could find around the jailhouse?
"I best be taking my leave, then," Randy muttered before vanishing into the underbrush.
((Continued elsewhere.))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Megami. 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.
((If Steve is not posted with in five days, he will be declared inactive and forfeited.))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Megami. 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.
((If he can't post in 5 days, let me know, and I'll take him back to write his death so hes completely out of the way))
Stuff. Things. Stuff and things.
((It's OK, had to track him down, sorry for delays))
Lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. It was something Steve often did when he found himself bored and without a plan. As he churned ideas around in his mind, he wondered what his friends were doing at this very moment. He thought of Serenity and of Gabe, puzzling over how he would track them down. Wondering if they were safe. Steve was never one to show his emotion, and he certainly wouldn't let himself be taken down by them. If he was going to do something progresive, he would have to keep his wit about him.
He sat up, letting his feet rest on the cold concrete floor. He held a hand to his chin and pondered the best course of action. It was a toss up between two ideas: stay here and wait out the danger, hoping that his friends would find him, or go off and search on his own. Both sides had their pros and cons, and the choice took him several minutes of hard consideration. Eventually, he stood up, grabbed his bag, took one last look around, and then made his way to the exit and disappeared into the forest. He'd made up his mind.
((Steve continued elsewhere))
Lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. It was something Steve often did when he found himself bored and without a plan. As he churned ideas around in his mind, he wondered what his friends were doing at this very moment. He thought of Serenity and of Gabe, puzzling over how he would track them down. Wondering if they were safe. Steve was never one to show his emotion, and he certainly wouldn't let himself be taken down by them. If he was going to do something progresive, he would have to keep his wit about him.
He sat up, letting his feet rest on the cold concrete floor. He held a hand to his chin and pondered the best course of action. It was a toss up between two ideas: stay here and wait out the danger, hoping that his friends would find him, or go off and search on his own. Both sides had their pros and cons, and the choice took him several minutes of hard consideration. Eventually, he stood up, grabbed his bag, took one last look around, and then made his way to the exit and disappeared into the forest. He'd made up his mind.
((Steve continued elsewhere))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler RePeate. 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.