Train bathrooms were not the most romantic setting, but they would do for now. If the group planned on running for some time, the ‘sun and moon’ may as well get used to this.
As Max exited from the cramped little room, he thought it wasn’t such an impossible task. Dragging his fingers through his messy hair and trying desperately to fix the stretched collar of his shirt, it registered that secrecy would be the most difficult part of this arrangement. There was, of course, the option to have one or the other stay behind a few minutes and exit at different times, but everyone was used to them by now for sure - and, besides, they’d already left together. For criminals, they weren’t exactly subtle.
Although he certainly wanted to, Max didn’t drag Spencer out; instead, he just waved a hand after himself, beckoning, to avoid being too demanding. The others were sat a few rows down, crowded around one of the few available booths with a table, and in various states of being: sleeping, reading, toying with MP3 players and other devices. Uninterested in any of that, Max went for today’s newspaper, evidently left by someone else. His eyes grazed over it and he plopped down into a seat across the aisle from their table, rubbing sweat from his face with his sleeve as he read.
A very specific section caught his eye, and he contemplated setting it out before the others for them to see for themselves, but of course they had illiterate kids in the group. Sad, really. Decidedly unsettled by the report, he handed it over to Spencer, brow suddenly furrowed. “Read that,” he said resignedly, unsure whether to feel disheartened by their appearance in public text or proud of newfound fame.
The other boy took it from Max’s hands, his cedar eyes scanning over the words; hunting for some form of comfort or pride in what was being shown to him. There was no such thing. His brow furrowed as he read on, staring at his and his lover’s mugshots. It was all so surreal. He knew they were on the run, but he never for one second thought that anyone would consider them missing, or anything of the sort. Actually seeing the news in front of him almost became a burden. “What the… who the fuck are ‘The Boston Renegades’? Are we some sort of pop group, now?” Spencer quipped, hopefully not too loud. The thought of being demoralised to nothing more than some cheap name was… enraging, to say the least. He looked back up at Max, a burning fire in his eyes, yet, at the same time, sadness. Like fire and ice, swirling about and dancing at the cedar iris.
Suddenly, the lights show ended, as Spencer came to realisation. “We have to get off the train. Like, as soon as possible,” he whispered, standing up abruptly and wandering towards one of the exit points. To be honest, he sucked ass at being ‘inconspicuous’. Luckily for him, the driver’s voice blasted through the speakers, announcing their next stop - Gloucester, MA.
Max’s gaze followed Spencer, a little uncomfortable with the sudden shift in mood. Wasn't anything out of norm for him, though, so Max stood and went right after, frowning at the announcement. The USA was too gigantic to get very far at all - to be fair, they’d only been on the train a couple of hours, give or take, but they were still in the same stupid state. He just took comfort in the fact that they were directly on the coast now. When the doors of the train slid open, he ensured the rest of them got out first, taking a headcount all the while (although the other passengers weren’t exactly happy getting their exit route cut off). Backpack tight on his shoulders from where it’d formally been beneath their train table and newspaper clutched in his hand, Max hopped off the train last after Spencer, keeping his head down to avoid recognition.
He was lucky enough to have a pretty unimpressive face, but Spencer… well. Spencer had some very distinctive features. At least neither of them dressed too uniquely to fit in with the general public. In fact, Max was dressed in a black shirt and jeans that must have been blue at one point but were now distressed to the point of greyness - he just looked like a trashy teenager. Probably not the best apparel for their new milieu, sun bright in the summer and the wind mild. “You ever seen the ocean?” he mused, coming close to Spencer’s shoulder so his voice could be heard. “We have to stay here for a while. Transport authorities around Boston will be keeping an eye out for our faces.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking we travel by foot and take rides in some people’s trucks, if they’ll let so many teenagers ride at one time. Just until people forget about that newspaper article,” Spencer murmured back, looking behind them to make sure they had everyone. Yup, that seemed like their usual amount. He just thanked god they were all okay with, well, running away from their goddamn lives. The more he thought about it, the more he regretted it, but as long as Max was with him, he’d at least be happy. He just couldn’t dare think about what happened if they tried to return to their normal lives. Would their families get killed, along with them? How would Michaels deal with them - completely erase them, like nothing?
Spencer shuddered, shaking back the thoughts, before turning to the group after stopping further down the platform. “Alright, we’re gonna have to find a place to camp out for the night. Hope you all packed some bed supplies,” he said, rather bluntly. No point getting their hopes up, was there?
Max, on the other hand, continued the thought process that apparently was mutual between them. Family. He hadn’t seen his mother in years, and if Michaels somehow tracked down his father, he really wouldn’t mind it. The elder Reed man was not exactly pleasant. As for Spencer’s family, it was none of Max’s business, but he felt they deserved whatever fate Michaels had in mind for them; call him a cynic, but he had no remorse for unaccepting parents. He didn’t voice these thoughts, of course. Instead, Max just backed up Spencer’s short message to the others with a reassuring smile of his own. Damage control, if you will.
A glance spared towards the signs lining the station told Max that they’d landed in West Gloucester. Weaving through the crowd, he navigated towards the information center and grabbed a booklet, seeing a section about a nearby shelter but quickly skimming over it. Shelters always asked for too much personal information - they had none of that to spare. However, there was a campground a little further north, and although it wasn’t ideal to stay outside during a summer night… it was better than risking being caught at a hotel or any of those homely inns nearby. The minimal lodging offered very small cabins, at least. “Spence, how’s this?” he offered, leaning over to share the pamphlet.
Spencer looked to what Max was handing him, hesitating for a brief moment. After all, the last time he’d been handed something to read by Max was when he found out they had the whole city looking for them, too. Regardless, he took the pamphlet, looking over it. “Holy fucking shit, this is like, perfect,” he murmured, holding the piece of paper like it were an ancient artefact. Turning to the group, he put on his best game face. He had to keep their hopes realistic, but stop them from dropping too much, too. “Alright, Max has found us a place to stay. It’s not exactly a deluxe spa hotel, but a campground’s better than nothing, right? Plus, it’s less likely that they’ll find us. I don’t think Michaels has people ‘round that area. We can probably make it there by tonight. Whaddya say?” he questioned, hoping that nobody would have any opposing thoughts. Though, then again, they couldn’t exactly complain - it was better than being turned in or sleeping on the streets.
As Max exited from the cramped little room, he thought it wasn’t such an impossible task. Dragging his fingers through his messy hair and trying desperately to fix the stretched collar of his shirt, it registered that secrecy would be the most difficult part of this arrangement. There was, of course, the option to have one or the other stay behind a few minutes and exit at different times, but everyone was used to them by now for sure - and, besides, they’d already left together. For criminals, they weren’t exactly subtle.
Although he certainly wanted to, Max didn’t drag Spencer out; instead, he just waved a hand after himself, beckoning, to avoid being too demanding. The others were sat a few rows down, crowded around one of the few available booths with a table, and in various states of being: sleeping, reading, toying with MP3 players and other devices. Uninterested in any of that, Max went for today’s newspaper, evidently left by someone else. His eyes grazed over it and he plopped down into a seat across the aisle from their table, rubbing sweat from his face with his sleeve as he read.
A very specific section caught his eye, and he contemplated setting it out before the others for them to see for themselves, but of course they had illiterate kids in the group. Sad, really. Decidedly unsettled by the report, he handed it over to Spencer, brow suddenly furrowed. “Read that,” he said resignedly, unsure whether to feel disheartened by their appearance in public text or proud of newfound fame.
A group of teenagers from Boston, Massachusetts have gone missing after being arrested by the Boston Police Department. They were last seen escaping the premises on July 15th at 5pm, but nearly 2 months later, there’s still no sign of the group that is now being dubbed “The Boston Renegades”.
Hailing from international homes, authorities aren’t sure how these Renegades came together, or what their common purpose is. However, the timing of their disappearances has led us to believe they are involved with one another in some way.
The other boy took it from Max’s hands, his cedar eyes scanning over the words; hunting for some form of comfort or pride in what was being shown to him. There was no such thing. His brow furrowed as he read on, staring at his and his lover’s mugshots. It was all so surreal. He knew they were on the run, but he never for one second thought that anyone would consider them missing, or anything of the sort. Actually seeing the news in front of him almost became a burden. “What the… who the fuck are ‘The Boston Renegades’? Are we some sort of pop group, now?” Spencer quipped, hopefully not too loud. The thought of being demoralised to nothing more than some cheap name was… enraging, to say the least. He looked back up at Max, a burning fire in his eyes, yet, at the same time, sadness. Like fire and ice, swirling about and dancing at the cedar iris.
Suddenly, the lights show ended, as Spencer came to realisation. “We have to get off the train. Like, as soon as possible,” he whispered, standing up abruptly and wandering towards one of the exit points. To be honest, he sucked ass at being ‘inconspicuous’. Luckily for him, the driver’s voice blasted through the speakers, announcing their next stop - Gloucester, MA.
Max’s gaze followed Spencer, a little uncomfortable with the sudden shift in mood. Wasn't anything out of norm for him, though, so Max stood and went right after, frowning at the announcement. The USA was too gigantic to get very far at all - to be fair, they’d only been on the train a couple of hours, give or take, but they were still in the same stupid state. He just took comfort in the fact that they were directly on the coast now. When the doors of the train slid open, he ensured the rest of them got out first, taking a headcount all the while (although the other passengers weren’t exactly happy getting their exit route cut off). Backpack tight on his shoulders from where it’d formally been beneath their train table and newspaper clutched in his hand, Max hopped off the train last after Spencer, keeping his head down to avoid recognition.
He was lucky enough to have a pretty unimpressive face, but Spencer… well. Spencer had some very distinctive features. At least neither of them dressed too uniquely to fit in with the general public. In fact, Max was dressed in a black shirt and jeans that must have been blue at one point but were now distressed to the point of greyness - he just looked like a trashy teenager. Probably not the best apparel for their new milieu, sun bright in the summer and the wind mild. “You ever seen the ocean?” he mused, coming close to Spencer’s shoulder so his voice could be heard. “We have to stay here for a while. Transport authorities around Boston will be keeping an eye out for our faces.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking we travel by foot and take rides in some people’s trucks, if they’ll let so many teenagers ride at one time. Just until people forget about that newspaper article,” Spencer murmured back, looking behind them to make sure they had everyone. Yup, that seemed like their usual amount. He just thanked god they were all okay with, well, running away from their goddamn lives. The more he thought about it, the more he regretted it, but as long as Max was with him, he’d at least be happy. He just couldn’t dare think about what happened if they tried to return to their normal lives. Would their families get killed, along with them? How would Michaels deal with them - completely erase them, like nothing?
Spencer shuddered, shaking back the thoughts, before turning to the group after stopping further down the platform. “Alright, we’re gonna have to find a place to camp out for the night. Hope you all packed some bed supplies,” he said, rather bluntly. No point getting their hopes up, was there?
Max, on the other hand, continued the thought process that apparently was mutual between them. Family. He hadn’t seen his mother in years, and if Michaels somehow tracked down his father, he really wouldn’t mind it. The elder Reed man was not exactly pleasant. As for Spencer’s family, it was none of Max’s business, but he felt they deserved whatever fate Michaels had in mind for them; call him a cynic, but he had no remorse for unaccepting parents. He didn’t voice these thoughts, of course. Instead, Max just backed up Spencer’s short message to the others with a reassuring smile of his own. Damage control, if you will.
A glance spared towards the signs lining the station told Max that they’d landed in West Gloucester. Weaving through the crowd, he navigated towards the information center and grabbed a booklet, seeing a section about a nearby shelter but quickly skimming over it. Shelters always asked for too much personal information - they had none of that to spare. However, there was a campground a little further north, and although it wasn’t ideal to stay outside during a summer night… it was better than risking being caught at a hotel or any of those homely inns nearby. The minimal lodging offered very small cabins, at least. “Spence, how’s this?” he offered, leaning over to share the pamphlet.
Spencer looked to what Max was handing him, hesitating for a brief moment. After all, the last time he’d been handed something to read by Max was when he found out they had the whole city looking for them, too. Regardless, he took the pamphlet, looking over it. “Holy fucking shit, this is like, perfect,” he murmured, holding the piece of paper like it were an ancient artefact. Turning to the group, he put on his best game face. He had to keep their hopes realistic, but stop them from dropping too much, too. “Alright, Max has found us a place to stay. It’s not exactly a deluxe spa hotel, but a campground’s better than nothing, right? Plus, it’s less likely that they’ll find us. I don’t think Michaels has people ‘round that area. We can probably make it there by tonight. Whaddya say?” he questioned, hoping that nobody would have any opposing thoughts. Though, then again, they couldn’t exactly complain - it was better than being turned in or sleeping on the streets.
