Cyberlad
Qia
Half Pint
Festive
mickilennial
AndyC
Sep
Roman
Rockette
Lord WraithSo, how's everyone going then..?
All good?
Alright then...
All good?
Alright then...
Hound55 Member
Create-A-Hero RPG GM, Blue Bringer of BWAHAHA!
STATUS: A Perpetual Motion Engine of Anxiety and Self-Loathing 2 yrs ago
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2 yrs ago
Current
A Perpetual Motion Engine of Anxiety and Self-Loathing
Bio
So there I am, in Sri Lanka, formerly Ceylon, at about 3 o'clock in the morning, looking for one thousand brown M&Ms to fill a brandy glass, or Ozzy wouldn't go on stage that night. So, Jeff Beck pops his head 'round the door, and mentions there's a little sweets shop on the edge of town. So - we go. And - it's closed. So there's me, and Keith Moon, and David Crosby, breaking into that little sweets shop, eh. Well, instead of a guard dog, they've got this bloody great big Bengal tiger. I managed to take out the tiger with a can of mace, but the shopowner and his son... that's a different story altogether. I had to beat them to death with their own shoes. Nasty business, really. But, sure enough, I got the M&Ms, and Ozzy went on stage and did a great show.
Most Recent Posts
David's eyes still burned and his sinuses were on fire, but he kept his mouth shut. "In a place like this." He thought. "Most any attention is bad attention." He walked down the long hall they were led through, squinting through the pain and trying to avoid looking directly into light. "Bide your time, and wash them out when you get an opportunity."
The guard unlocked the door and led them into a large room where a half dozen other program-attendees were already awaiting.
At a glance they were a big guy and a little one playing video games. A young girl with plaits who approached the group. This immediately made David wary, as he questioned the motives of anyone approaching a group of new, and frankly vulnerable, people in a place like this. There was another girl staring at them with a maniacal grin from the back wall. A third who was paying them no mind at all. And a third guy sitting in the corner, apparently sizing them up, much as David himself was.
For some reason, despite doing no more than what David himself was doing in return, this one put him most on edge of all.
Despite being in the group, David felt vulnerable. He felt watched. A worm amongst a dozen and a half on a rock, waiting for birds to decide he was the juiciest one left to peck at.
Since getting out of the literal Rock would be somewhere between 'not possible' to 'unhelpful', getting off the metaphorical rock would be the next best thing.
He watched as the redhead who had fallen asleep behind him on the bus, the one who'd stirred up no end of trouble in the security line, and seemed to have no sense for what David viewed of their current circumstances, was lured away by the watchful boy from the corner.
"That one is gonna be the lesson everyone else learns from, I'm sure..."
"Not your problem, David. Head down. Just forget it. Keep moving."
One less worm lying on the rock. A few others had the sense to step away from the group, but didn't seem terribly concerned with the notice they drew. A loud blonde who blew up over the otter on the bus had drawn the attention from the big guy who was previously playing video games.
Were they targeting the girls?
David's mind ran. Whilst making a direct move at this point would be dumb, maybe there was still SOMETHING that he could do to at least slow it down.
He ran his own eye over the group, he almost immediately eyeballed another potential future target, and then noticed the dress.
"Russian?"
He wasn't certain, he hadn't heard her say two words to try and glean any kind of accent. She'd also seemed smart enough to keep quiet and similarly suss out their current situation - much as David had. There were worse moves he could make. He walked quickly over to the board games and retrieved something, before returning and approaching the blonde girl with a box.
"Chess?"
She seemed perplexed by the sudden offer.
He tried to explain his reasoning, with as much subtlety as he could muster.
"People don't pay any mind... to two people playing chess." Before tilting his head in the directions of the two people who had been paying extra attention to people within their group.
The guard unlocked the door and led them into a large room where a half dozen other program-attendees were already awaiting.
At a glance they were a big guy and a little one playing video games. A young girl with plaits who approached the group. This immediately made David wary, as he questioned the motives of anyone approaching a group of new, and frankly vulnerable, people in a place like this. There was another girl staring at them with a maniacal grin from the back wall. A third who was paying them no mind at all. And a third guy sitting in the corner, apparently sizing them up, much as David himself was.
For some reason, despite doing no more than what David himself was doing in return, this one put him most on edge of all.
Friends
Find people of similar temperament to your own. Quiet, balanced.
Alone you are vulnerable. Two people can watch each others' backs. Three, can observe angles.
Ideally, Quiet, balanced temperament, thoughtful, observant. Selfless may be too much to ask for in a place like this, but someone who has the sense to realise the longterm benefit of loyalty and not screwing over friends for short term personal gain in a place like this.
Loud, unreliable, overaggressive, unstable and potentially violent friend is worse than going it alone in a place like this. They will drag you into things you could otherwise avoid.
Despite being in the group, David felt vulnerable. He felt watched. A worm amongst a dozen and a half on a rock, waiting for birds to decide he was the juiciest one left to peck at.
Since getting out of the literal Rock would be somewhere between 'not possible' to 'unhelpful', getting off the metaphorical rock would be the next best thing.
He watched as the redhead who had fallen asleep behind him on the bus, the one who'd stirred up no end of trouble in the security line, and seemed to have no sense for what David viewed of their current circumstances, was lured away by the watchful boy from the corner.
"That one is gonna be the lesson everyone else learns from, I'm sure..."
"Not your problem, David. Head down. Just forget it. Keep moving."
One less worm lying on the rock. A few others had the sense to step away from the group, but didn't seem terribly concerned with the notice they drew. A loud blonde who blew up over the otter on the bus had drawn the attention from the big guy who was previously playing video games.
Were they targeting the girls?
David's mind ran. Whilst making a direct move at this point would be dumb, maybe there was still SOMETHING that he could do to at least slow it down.
He ran his own eye over the group, he almost immediately eyeballed another potential future target, and then noticed the dress.
"Russian?"
He wasn't certain, he hadn't heard her say two words to try and glean any kind of accent. She'd also seemed smart enough to keep quiet and similarly suss out their current situation - much as David had. There were worse moves he could make. He walked quickly over to the board games and retrieved something, before returning and approaching the blonde girl with a box.
"Chess?"
She seemed perplexed by the sudden offer.
He tried to explain his reasoning, with as much subtlety as he could muster.
"People don't pay any mind... to two people playing chess." Before tilting his head in the directions of the two people who had been paying extra attention to people within their group.
The group followed the guard down the long Hall, remaining within the Recreation wing, passing by rooms of various purposes. Pool. Sauna. Steam room.
The guard came to a locked door leading to a more open room towards the end of the corridor, opposite the library. He pulled a set of keys that were chained to his person and unlocked the door revealing a half dozen seemingly randomly selected, longer tenured Ju-V program attendees who had been locked in the room. These would function as a 'welcoming committee' of sorts to begin to 'ease them' into coming to terms with the wider body of youths involved in the program.
The room had a ping pong table, two TVs with video game consoles, a small rack with a few select books (microchipped - with a scanner built into the door to prevent theft), central and side tables and chairs, and a book case full of board games, decks of cards and puzzles.
All of which would seem to be surprisingly well kept... except for the fact that boredom runs wild in places like these, and damage to any of the meagre things they actually have to assuage that boredom would be met with severe irritation by their peers. In many ways, their peers were the most effective policing techniques within these walls, and the contents of rooms like this one were more respected than most of the rules in the facility. Not a person on Alcatraz Island, for example, WOULDN'T know if someone broke one of the console controllers and exactly who that person was.
Sat against the back wall, staring at the door as a kaleidoscope of fresh faces all entered, was Laura DiBiase. Her face appeared manic, and over-stimulated and she began to rock, to the discomfort of many of the new arrivals. Her pseudonym of 'Bright Eyes' was clear to see and understand, as they seemed to have doubled in size to take in all the new vibrancy.
A pair of boys of comically contrasting sizes were playing a racing game of some kind or another on the console.
The smaller boy would take off to a considerable lead only for the larger boy to grunt in frustration, before the smaller boy would shoot him a nervous glance, and then somehow mysteriously fall back into the pack.
Neither had sensed the presence of the new program attendees in the room.
Not so inattentive was a lone boy located in a chair in the corner, with an angle on the whole room. Billy Isaacs. He was well aware why he had been shut in this room at this time, and scored himself a seat which took in the whole vista, so he could soak in every breath and step of the new arrivals. He wanted to know what they were thinking before they even thought it, and the most worrying thing was that he could indeed do it. All he needed was time and information, and every second of the former gave him more of the latter.
Libby Trainor stood at the window gazing out as her mind raced once more. Her singular focus had worked it's way back to the fore. It was a vicious cycle. She'd bust out, Aegis would find her, track her down, drag her back, she'd bust out all over again. The cycle had repeated so many times she could barely remember the starting point.
Waiting to greet them was a shorter girl with blonde plaits that spoke with the world-wearied wisdom of a long-timer. This was Program-Attendee number #543 - the lowest number on the island. Known by most as 'The Kid', all of the people who shared her ferry to this place and knew her real name had long since left.
"Fresh meat, huh?" She chuckled raspily. An off-putting gesture for someone of her diminutive stature and general appearance.
"Don't worry. We'll settle ya in real good." She chewed roughly on some type of gum, with a knowing grin that suggested these raw newbies had no idea what they were in for. Whilst it was true, it was also one of the only real joys she had in a place like this, and above all else, you learn to savour the joys. Especially when you can't see how you'd be able to exist on the outside.
"You need to know anythin' just you come askin' me." She turned to share the same view of the room that the group held.
"This here's one of yer standard rec rooms, there's another round the other side. Screws've trickled in about half a dozen, so it seems, to try and eash your transition in terms of coming to terms with yer fellow program-attendees. Yer free to mingle, play at ping pong, vidya games over there... although ya might want to give ol' 'Bulk' over there a wide berth. Apologies for the nomenclature... His name's Brian McIntyre. You'll find a lot of people start goin' by other aliases 'round these parts. Don't you worry 'bout none of that. You'll find yours in y'r own time, or someone'll stick one on ya. Yours truly they call 'The Kid', for obvious reasons."
The Kid looked over the group with a furrowed brow, counting heads.
"Must say, yer have me at a bit of a loss. You seem to be about three-- hup... didn't see the otter down there. Two short. When they normally give a bloc the ol' welcome wagon, they usually bring in a big ol' batch of twenty..."
Billy Isaacs ran his eyes over the latest ragtag assortment of Aegis offerings. The most immediate thing to come to mind was the red eyes.
They'd been pepper sprayed. At least a good few of them. His mind turned the information over in his mind. Likely wide dispersal, single use. There were only eighteen here. Normally a bloc of twenty would be introduced. Presumably two were removed. A fight between two was likely. Whether there were two true aggressors, or if one attacked the other and the second pushed the envelope in self-defense it was less easy for him to determine - Rowell was known to split the baby and punish both sides at the time. Some were immediately transparent in powerset. Otter. Wings. Stone boy. Another carried a large board of some kind - he presumed an elemental of some sort, controlling wind or waves. As far as could be told at this point. A Blonde from out of time carried herself with more weight than her diminutive stature suggested. He pegged her as a powerhouse strength type, despite her frame. Body shapes lie often. Body language? Less so. Another blonde looked muscular, but far more inscrutable - still a mystery.
Billy Isaacs' lip curled just considering 'stripping back' that mystery.
Her eyes held the red of the spray. She was in close proximity to the dispersal. Another in green it seemed took the brunt, he couldn't tell what her part would have been in any of this, though. A red-headed girl amongst them also had misty red eyes... but Billy could see the subtlety in difference.
She hadn't been sprayed. This wasn't chemical based. It was emotional. Billy kept sniffing, he could smell vulnerability.
What would have set that off... homesickness? Possibly, but it was early yet. She probably teared up from the trip, but this was more recent. On the facility.
Security. She'd had something confiscated. She wanted something. And anyone who wants something... the possibilities. He watched her closer. The style of clothes, the probable expense, it didn't look like she'd ever wanted for much. The thin clothing, the posture. She had nipple piercings, he could tell. What form exactly, he couldn't tell yet, but he'd have her show him. She looked like she'd be willing to go along with a lot with him. He wondered at what point he'd hit her limits... and what would be beyond.
Billy Isaacs' lip curled again, at the thought of the 'beyond'.
"Dawkins!" He called. The young boy paused and jumped up from his video game at Isaacs' beckon call, much to the larger boy's frustration.
"--is 'Fingers'. Doesn't look like much, but the kid can get you ANYTHING, ANY TIME. Like a one man 7/11. Well... boy. Price isn't too unreasonable either... but you wanna arrange costs up front. Not that he's particularly untrustworthy, it's just a good general rule across the board with anyone in here."
The younger boy ran across the room, passed the girl at the back wall, whose gaze still hasn't left the group. Her face held a hanging vacant smile that left many looking uncomfortable.
"...And that one there, is 'Bright Eyes'. Now, best we can tell, not violent, but I'm not gonna lie, she's a special kind of crazy. Probably stil best to keep yer distance."
Billy Isaacs kept his focus glued on the redhead, whilst he waited for Fingers to get to him, intent on cracking the rest of this mystery. She wanted something. Something that was taken from her that she wanted. Fill that need, and...
He watched closer. Turned his head slightly, almost imperceptively, in stark contrast to the way that almost nothing escaped his own perception. He picked up anxiety on her, and her fingers tented at the knuckle, almost as if she was craving an eCigarette or...
"Vape pen." He flashed a wide grin in realisation. Hell, he bet that if he got close enough, he could probably even smell the flavour she was craving on her.
Fingers finally got to where Billy Isaacs stood, he waited until he'd gone the whole way to him before he began to walk himself.
"Gonna need you to get me something. For a new friend..." He said. Fingers cowered slightly. He hated this. He suspected he knew the sort of thing he was about to be an accessory to. There just wasn't anything he could do about it. Between Bulk's muscle, and Billy's own power, he was all but untouchable in here.
"So walk with me, a while..." He said. Taking a solid glance in the direction of three cameras monitoring the room, and mentally timing his pace as he began to approach the group of fresh meat.
"Hey, Red! I think we might be able to help you get something you'd be interested in." He called out to the redhead.
"--escape." The Kid stopped, when she became aware of Billy's call to one of the group. Her face froze. Billy killed any intention of warning her with a simple well weighted smile.
The redhead was curious about the request and separated herself from the group to see what he was talking about, a pained look briefly flashed across the Kid's eyes before she moved on. This sort of thing had happened too often for it to be more than a momentary hangup. It was far from the first time he'd targeted some prime piece of fresh meat he fancied, wouldn't be the last time either.
"And with escapes from over a half dozen different Aegis facilities, Libby Trainor got sent down here to, if not stop her, at least slow her down. But it doesn't seem that's gonna happen anytime soon. Best they can hope is to catch her again quickly and bring her on back. Hell, she's probably over there thinking about what she's gonna do in the City in the few hours of freedom she buys herself NEXT time she busts out..."
As Billy Isaacs lured the red haired girl away for conversation, and his eventual proffer, The Kid gradually grew bolder and cut off her description of the girl at the window to describe the latest figure they'd just caught a passing glimpse of.
"And that one there, is Billy Isaacs. The Calculus. He has perception, pattern reading and recognition at a level so terrifyingly honed, that here in this place, he's practically precognitive. You take one thing away from anything I say today, you stay away from him. I'd tell you not to tell him I said anything, or warned you, but it wouldn't matter. He'd see it on yer face, just as soon as lookin' at yer... You don't want to get involved with that guy. Don't get on his bad side, Just best stay well clear..."
The truth was The Kid knew he could warn the group all she liked, now that he had what he wanted. He considered himself far enough above the fray that he barely considered her warnings as having any influence on his ability to attain his goals and desires at all. And the scariest thing was, he was probably right.
Bulk, having quickly grown bored, with the loss of his video game partner, decided to walk up and look over the fresh meat. Immediately catching his attention was a brassy shorter blonde with a very distinctive style of dress. Unsure how to go about greeting her he kind of stood over her, with a perplexed look on his face, as if trying to solve a puzzle. He wasn't like Billy, Billy just had a way of talking that seemed to flow easily, and generally ended with people giving him what he wanted, whether or not they wanted to. Billy had a way with people. With words. Brian noticed people tended to respond better, the less he said. Billy would even tell him to shut up. A lot. It was probably in his best interests. They really did work better when he said less. He'd seen it himself.
So instead he stood there providing her shade. Maybe he'd smile at her if he finally drew eye contact. He hadn't really given it much thought yet.
GM Notes/Directives
* The Program Attendees are Now in the Opening Recreation Room. In the Opening Recreation Room your characters are free to intermingle with other Player Characters and UNENGAGED NPCs.
* In the Opening Recreation Room there is to be NO VIOLENCE WITHOUT PRIOR GM APPROVAL.
* The Unengaged NPCs are The Kid, Libby Trainor - Liberty and Laura DiBiase - Bright Eyes. For more information on any of these Communal NPCs - consult the Character Tab.
*Engaged NPCs:
Fingers and Calculus - Noah 'Bombshell' Cypress @Venus
Bulk - Brooklyn 'Black Betty' Vanderhaven @PatientBean
Apologies for the long wait.
This all looks great (although I'm almost scared to unleash someone so gentle amongst this rabble
)If you are still interested, let me know. Sunny has been approved. Might be such an entrance point coming up - "Play nice, Fritz..."
Page Summaries - Posts At A Glance
Alright, so that's all of those post summaries done for now (EDIT: With the exception of the Interactions). If you have a post on the first page, please check them out and see if you feel they adequately reflect your work, and send me any changes you may want made to them.
I'll make the Zero OOC post in the morning and add these to it. But for now... sleep.
I'll make the Zero OOC post in the morning and add these to it. But for now... sleep.
Okay... Here's a thing.
In an effort to make things easier to keep up with the broad strokes events of the game, I'll be coming up with page-by-page post summaries outlining the events of all of the previous page's posts. So if someone falls behind, they can get a quick idea of what's happened to get caught up enough to formulate ideas for their next post - then catch up on the full posts in their own time.
I wouldn't recommend relying in full on these, if for no other reason than because the posts so far have been great and you'd be doing yourself an injustice, and the people who put the time and effort in to bring you the posts in the first place. But it could help people catch up "at length" to events, so they don't drown under the weight.
If anything I write is objectionable, or you feel it doesn't adequately address everything the post contained - whether it be foreshadowing for things to come in the future, a missed point you'd intended to make, or whatever, please let me know and I'll make amendments and adjustments... also, the best way to prevent such misrepresentation would be to simply write your own, and send it to me, and I'll just throw it in word-for-word to that next page's summary.
So with that...
EDIT: Here's the first Nine posts (EDITED EDIT: Make that Fifteen posts) and the Zero... I'll see if I can finish the first page tonight and throw it on a new Zero Post for the OOC.
SECONDARY EDIT: In hindsight, I should also add the interactions for each of these posts as I go. So people can see more specifically what they're interconnected with. I'll go back and do that to the first ones after, as well.
In an effort to make things easier to keep up with the broad strokes events of the game, I'll be coming up with page-by-page post summaries outlining the events of all of the previous page's posts. So if someone falls behind, they can get a quick idea of what's happened to get caught up enough to formulate ideas for their next post - then catch up on the full posts in their own time.
I wouldn't recommend relying in full on these, if for no other reason than because the posts so far have been great and you'd be doing yourself an injustice, and the people who put the time and effort in to bring you the posts in the first place. But it could help people catch up "at length" to events, so they don't drown under the weight.
If anything I write is objectionable, or you feel it doesn't adequately address everything the post contained - whether it be foreshadowing for things to come in the future, a missed point you'd intended to make, or whatever, please let me know and I'll make amendments and adjustments... also, the best way to prevent such misrepresentation would be to simply write your own, and send it to me, and I'll just throw it in word-for-word to that next page's summary.
So with that...
EDIT: Here's the first Nine posts (EDITED EDIT: Make that Fifteen posts) and the Zero... I'll see if I can finish the first page tonight and throw it on a new Zero Post for the OOC.
SECONDARY EDIT: In hindsight, I should also add the interactions for each of these posts as I go. So people can see more specifically what they're interconnected with. I'll go back and do that to the first ones after, as well.
The pen was beautiful, and the box no lesser. It had golden trim, and the box was adorned with a clear 'Montblanc' label. It was something called a 'Meisterstück Le Grand Rollerball'.
"Don't worry. It's not going to be your only present..." Their father had said. Craig didn't even try to hide his relief.
"...But this is important too."
It was Craig's eighteenth birthday, and both David and he were together, watching his father breakdown the reasons behind this exorbitant, yet somewhat dull, gift. Maddie and Charlie were elsewhere, causing mayhem and being wrangled and pursued by their mother, as is so often the case in a house with four kids.
"Now I know that we're stepping deeper and deeper into the 21st Century. And I know this is going to seem more outdated with every year that passes. But as you get closer to what you want to do in life..."
Craig had wanted to be an architect. Football had distracted somewhat and in many cases interfered with his grades, he intended to take a brief stint at Community College to shore them up, before hopefully transferring over to Stanford where, by then, he could hopefully rejoin his brother. David had joked and suggested he could take the Andrew Luck route and try and go there as QB whilst working for his degree, but both knew he wasn't a natural enough student to make the time work. That was one thing David had always had over him.
"...you're going to realise that people are still going to long for the personal. So I want you to have this. And when you write your cover sheets, your letters, and any correspondence that gets attached to your plans. I always want you to sign it with this."
"Dad... you can scan and auto-print signatures now." Came the response, underlining the difference in eras.
"I know you can. But in a time where so much can be impersonal. This will have more weight. This will show the person behind the plans. It's part of the point of a signature in the first place. It isn't just a rubber stamp brand. Constant. Unchanging. Every one is it's own unique marking, yet still distinguishable as being from the same hand. That's not a bad message to send for an architect, is it..?"
Their father wouldn't know how right he was. Within just a few years Chat GPT could pump out those cover letters and most correspondence with a series of simple prompts. Signatures could still be re-produced on mass with auto-scans, and even design programs could virtually take the personal out of plans, if you really wanted to.
David remembered seeing the pen in its box. It was beautiful in its construction, and showed care in its creation. The card came with a number which showed the batch number.
Even the device that allowed for the personal came out in a production line.
"It's important. The personal. This is what's going to hold us all together." His father had said.
David's mind ran wild. It was a scorching hot day, but fortunately the air conditioning of the bus mainly held.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the box with the pen. His brother's pen.
His father had intended to give him one of his own when he turned eighteen, but neither he, nor Craig, nor their mother ever saw that day.
They'd had a quiet day on that day, he and Maddie and Charlie. Went to San Francisco Zoo. Had a day out. He'd tried to keep the day a secret because it would have been another day family should have come together, and would have again been another reminder of what they'd lost - as if that didn't drift in and out of their minds on a constant basis.
Now it was his brother's pen, given to him by his father - and let's face it, probably bought for him by their mother.
In a way it did still bind them.
He put the pen and its box back.
"Remember the pen." He thought. "Always, remember the pen."
"One day at a time, and always remember the pen."
He was the last of the three to board, the other two girls at the front presumably had all lived in San Francisco proper as well.
When the bus came to a stop outside the Courthouse and picked up someone from holding, he barely blinked. He'd expected as much. In fact he was surprised it was only one, from what he knew of the Program. But he also knew there was no use running from it. Best way to pass by it, is to pass through it.
They left the courthouse, and for a few moments the music once again managed to hit his ears. It was soft, an earworm, and relentless. A few hours later it would stil be going through a lot of their minds for reasons they couldn't understand, because it had spent far too long rattling around in the passengers' subconscious.
David's mind turned to how the coming days would potentially be. He wasn't scared. Not anymore. Afterall high school had been enough like a prison for him already, and he'd had to go through that without the ability to defend himself. Sure, Craig had helped where he could, but even he couldn't have his back with every minute. Social pressures often dragged him away, even when he tried to make the effort to bring David with him - and in all honesty, a lot of the time, David didn't want to tag along in the first place. Often he just went with to support his bigger brother - even if he'd have done just fine without him.
There would be no Craig here. But he had something else going for him now. Something which would always be there.
The bus had stopped, David had barely noticed, and on stepped two girls. David didn't pay them any mind, until the second, a red headed girl in sunglasses, decided to slide into the seat immediately behind him. She had the look of one of the many girls from the morning after one of the parties Craig would ocasionally drag him out to that were generally for the football team. Deep hangover. A waft of bubblegum vapour and vanilla scent rose, and his seat back rocked as she slumped down into the seat.
"Are you kidding me? You have the whole bus..." David thought to himself.
The bus smoothly went on, and David's mind tried to travel back to the task at hand. The probable procedures. Plans going forward. Just get through smoothly, cleanly, quickly and out the otherside. Think of the pen. Everything just--
"Why did you sit there? I mean... there's four people here on the whole entire bus. Four of us."
More people had gotten on the bus, but that fell beyond his notice.
"You could tell her off. Except you can't, because that's even ruder than her sitting there in the first place."
"It also doesn't exactly set the best tone. You're going to have to deal with these people. Maybe you could turn around and give her a look-- no, you've left that too long now. She'll just look at you right back and wonder what your problem is."
"But why did-- Ugh. Just ignore it. Move on. It's no big deal."
More bubblegum vapour rose from over his left shoulder. And the hard rock sounds weren't being entirely contained by her headphones.
He exhaled and returned to his thoughts. Through this, out the other side. Don't start shit. If shit finds you, polite but firm. If provoked, finish it. Your personality's your first armour in places like this. Be friendly, affab-- "Great, now your neck is itchy."
David sat more upright, turning his head slightly at the discomfort.
"Well, just scratch your neck. Nobody said you can't scratch your neck."
"Yeah, but its weird now. I feel like I'm being watched. Am I being watched? What if she thinks it's weird that I'm scratching my neck. Or that it has something to do with her sitting there..?"
"It has to do with your neck being itchy..."
"..."
"WHY DID SHE HAVE TO SIT THERE?!?"
He exhaled slowly and fully, and set his mind back on how he was going to get through the coming days.
It'll be fine. Take care of your stuff, but don't grow too attached. If someone fucks with it, or you, firm, but not overly-aggressive. Being seen as some kind of loose-thread whackjob is just as dangerous as being seen as the weak one. If anyone offers you drug shit, say no, but politely. Don't borrow shit off of ANYONE. That's how most prison fights start right there, and let's face it this isn't too different. Property, drugs, debt, over-aggression. Control those four things and-- Holy fucking shit! What the fuck was that!
Suddenly, the whole bus had lurched to the side David was sitting on. He hadn't noticed, but a large stone boy had boarded and sat somewhere behind him on his side of the bus.
--control those four things, and let's face it, that's mostly controlling yourself, and you'll avoid most fights and issues. Don't fuck up the status quo order of the complex. If there's a line, hold your place. If there's chances to call people, mail, don't screw with people's families and the things they're missing. Hup--wings. Wings..? 'K. Whatever, fair enough. She's got wings. --Don't mess with people's families and what they missing.
"And most of all."
"Most of all..."
"Don't tell 'em shit about yours and what you're missing."
The bus broke free from the airport and turned back onto the highway. In the background he could both hear the occasional gentle tones of Journey coming through the overhead speaker, with an intermittent break of harder rock running wild from the headphones of the girl seated behind him.
"Who sits right behind someone on a bus when the whole damn bus is free? What kind of person does that?"
"Still itchy."
At least the plumes of bubblegum scenting, whatever that was, had stopped wafting over the top.
The bus stopped at the old Historic Ferry Building. As a local he knew it wasn't their stop, and if there were any doubts, that thought was punctuated emphatically by the girl at the front.
An otter boarded the bus. Shook itself off and wandered down the aisle to find a seat like it was 8 o'clock and it was headed off to work.
The bus smoothly pulled away and went on towards their actual stop for the ferry to Alcatraz.
David kept rolling through everything to remember, things he'd read up on, precautions to take, surviving life in a facility... It took a little while for him to realise the bus had stopped and people had started to get off.
He put his hand to his pocket and made sure the pen was still securely there, and stood up. Letting the last of the other passengers who had been standing onger to pass him by, then he looked down and saw.
The red-headed girl in the row behind him. She was fast asleep. Looked comfortably so, as well.
"How long had she--"
David smiled and chuckled at himself, over how he'd been driving himself crazy for-- far too long. And bent down to gently wake her up, when a loud bark came from the back of the bus.
"Hey! Keep your distance! Leave the bus now!"
In stunned reaction, he raised both his hands in innocence like he'd just been caught. His eyes wide as a deer's in the headlights, he looked at the officer, slowly backing away as he walked to the front of the bus. "Just keep walking. Head down, and get out. This is how things turn bad. Don't turn back. Forget it. She's not your problem. Just get off the bus." When he got to the door he turned back and checked on what he'd left in his wake. The guard was helping the girl to her feet as she woke. David stepped off the bus and joined the others.
The ferry was already boarding kids for the first trip across, by the time he joined the group. They'd boarded a massive stone kid first, and situated him right in the middle of the boat to best maximise weight distribution. Smart. They then surrounded him with enough kids to ease pressure off the space they'd have for the second trip, whilst not putting too much of a weight burden on the historically restored Warden Johnston for the first.
David watched as the first batch of kids made their way across the bay to Alcatraz Island. Hot day, the water actually looked pretty nice. He wondered how many of the kids were thinking of some fantasy situation where they make this daring escape, swimming back over the bay through the famous cold chop. If that was their thought process, it absolutely was a fantasy. Anyone with any knowledge of the place knew how treacherous those waters would be.
He also knew he'd never have to if he really wanted to. The guard towers... if they had people in them, they only had radios. Strictly Non-lethal under the words of their own Director Rowell, not that he'd ever met the man. But with his power, David could basically make himself a staircase over the wall and down the other side, then basically roll out the force carpet for himself for a leisurely stroll across the Bay. He wasn't the only one, if the girl so chose she could likely use those wings and peace out in a moment.
But it wasn't the initial escape that would be the issue. They'd find you, they'd track you down, your record would be marked with the escape attempt, they'd put you on a watchlist for those to be held in closer scrutiny. All of which were absolutely contrary to what David wanted. He wanted in and out, with as little imprint as possible.
The boat had returned, and they all boarded. David sat in the middle. There were a lot of newcomers to the city, let them bask in the sights and sounds, as the Golden Gate Bridge overlooked their new home. He'd seen it already, beautiful as it was. It was a crowded ferry trip, let them all get in each other's space. He smiled as he watched some of them pointing and soaking it all in. Would this be the last they'd just get to be kids for a while?
The ferry docked on the other side and the kids, disembarked. Once again, David rested his hand on his hip to check his pocket, making sure nothing jostled its way out in the boatride.
They were led through gates and into an area for security screening. They all started surrendering objects, or having objects forcibly surrendered. The more belligerent were only subjected to worse treatment, patted down, frisked. David placed the pen box on the table in front of the security officer.
"I suppose it's best to leave stuff like this here, right? Likely to get stolen in there. You'll have pens and stuff on the inside that can be used anyway, right? I take it there's paperwork."
The security officer confirmed. And sealed the pen box in a bag, labelled with his name. David stood to the side and raised his arms in compliance. He was subjected to a minor, routine pat down, as he looked back at the rag-tag group of kids getting more and more battered and abused in the frisk.
After being patted down, David quietly intermingled with the group of kids who had successfully passed the screening process. Before too long, this was completed, and the group of program attendees were led down a long corridor to a basketball court. David made sure he secured his place well towards the middle, in the non-conspicuous depths of the line.
They were all assembled up in a row, and awaiting some kind of greeting. The question of who exactly was soon answered by the sharp clacking of fine leather shoes walking in an orderly gait towards the group of youths.
It was Director Rowell. He could put a face to the name, now.
Virgil Rowell was a dark-skinned gentleman, with a firm upright stance who clearly took a sense of pride in his appearance. He maintained neat dress and a pair of simple, thin glasses hung from his ears. The sides of his hair had started to gray, but did nothing to diminsh the stature of the man.
Much like his dress, he spoke crisply and neatly. Keeping it brief, he outlined the basic order and greeted them to the faility.
The large stone boy decided to see how far he could push the boundaries, as children do, and served up some sass to test the waters of response...
And then Hell broke loose.
A gaunt figure amongst them had torn off a feather from the girl with wings and was brandishing it like a-- well, there was no 'like' about it. It had become a weapon in the boy's hands. The girl objected, rearing back. The boy welcomed the violence-- Another boy moved. A girl started to disappear-- Pepperspray--
David had heard his mother talk about when she was much younger, how she'd frequent the protest circuit. For the environment, gay rights, numerous causes. David had never expected he'd find himself remembering any of that as relevant. But now he found his eyes burning from trace amounts of the airborne mist. He refrained from touching or rubbing his eyes, despite the burn. As his mother had mentioned, it only spreads the burn and makes it worse. He stepped back from the scene twice, and raising his arms, laced both his hands behind his head in compliance.
There'd be time to rinse the irritant out later. It burned, but he half squinted through the pain to try to keep an eye on everything that was happening.
The Director's bark emphatically ventilated the atmosphere. It sounded foreign, not because of an accent... but as if raising his voice was an unnatural event.
He dismissed the guard who had fired off the pepperspray, and quickly looked to regain a sense of orderly control over the situation.
This time he unloaded a longer speech, it contained a plea for understanding and empathy and further underlined the sense of community that this place was to be.
He'd been here five minutes, and for everything he'd thought of, planned for and considered, five minutes in and he was already faced with the worst possible circumstance. The one he feared most, because it was the one you couldn't plan for. The random anarchy of a near-riot fight situation breaking out.
"Welcome to fucking Alcatraz indeed..."
"Don't worry. It's not going to be your only present..." Their father had said. Craig didn't even try to hide his relief.
"...But this is important too."
It was Craig's eighteenth birthday, and both David and he were together, watching his father breakdown the reasons behind this exorbitant, yet somewhat dull, gift. Maddie and Charlie were elsewhere, causing mayhem and being wrangled and pursued by their mother, as is so often the case in a house with four kids.
"Now I know that we're stepping deeper and deeper into the 21st Century. And I know this is going to seem more outdated with every year that passes. But as you get closer to what you want to do in life..."
Craig had wanted to be an architect. Football had distracted somewhat and in many cases interfered with his grades, he intended to take a brief stint at Community College to shore them up, before hopefully transferring over to Stanford where, by then, he could hopefully rejoin his brother. David had joked and suggested he could take the Andrew Luck route and try and go there as QB whilst working for his degree, but both knew he wasn't a natural enough student to make the time work. That was one thing David had always had over him.
"...you're going to realise that people are still going to long for the personal. So I want you to have this. And when you write your cover sheets, your letters, and any correspondence that gets attached to your plans. I always want you to sign it with this."
"Dad... you can scan and auto-print signatures now." Came the response, underlining the difference in eras.
"I know you can. But in a time where so much can be impersonal. This will have more weight. This will show the person behind the plans. It's part of the point of a signature in the first place. It isn't just a rubber stamp brand. Constant. Unchanging. Every one is it's own unique marking, yet still distinguishable as being from the same hand. That's not a bad message to send for an architect, is it..?"
Their father wouldn't know how right he was. Within just a few years Chat GPT could pump out those cover letters and most correspondence with a series of simple prompts. Signatures could still be re-produced on mass with auto-scans, and even design programs could virtually take the personal out of plans, if you really wanted to.
David remembered seeing the pen in its box. It was beautiful in its construction, and showed care in its creation. The card came with a number which showed the batch number.
Even the device that allowed for the personal came out in a production line.
"It's important. The personal. This is what's going to hold us all together." His father had said.
- - -
David's mind ran wild. It was a scorching hot day, but fortunately the air conditioning of the bus mainly held.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the box with the pen. His brother's pen.
His father had intended to give him one of his own when he turned eighteen, but neither he, nor Craig, nor their mother ever saw that day.
They'd had a quiet day on that day, he and Maddie and Charlie. Went to San Francisco Zoo. Had a day out. He'd tried to keep the day a secret because it would have been another day family should have come together, and would have again been another reminder of what they'd lost - as if that didn't drift in and out of their minds on a constant basis.
Now it was his brother's pen, given to him by his father - and let's face it, probably bought for him by their mother.
In a way it did still bind them.
He put the pen and its box back.
"Remember the pen." He thought. "Always, remember the pen."
"One day at a time, and always remember the pen."
He was the last of the three to board, the other two girls at the front presumably had all lived in San Francisco proper as well.
When the bus came to a stop outside the Courthouse and picked up someone from holding, he barely blinked. He'd expected as much. In fact he was surprised it was only one, from what he knew of the Program. But he also knew there was no use running from it. Best way to pass by it, is to pass through it.
They left the courthouse, and for a few moments the music once again managed to hit his ears. It was soft, an earworm, and relentless. A few hours later it would stil be going through a lot of their minds for reasons they couldn't understand, because it had spent far too long rattling around in the passengers' subconscious.
David's mind turned to how the coming days would potentially be. He wasn't scared. Not anymore. Afterall high school had been enough like a prison for him already, and he'd had to go through that without the ability to defend himself. Sure, Craig had helped where he could, but even he couldn't have his back with every minute. Social pressures often dragged him away, even when he tried to make the effort to bring David with him - and in all honesty, a lot of the time, David didn't want to tag along in the first place. Often he just went with to support his bigger brother - even if he'd have done just fine without him.
There would be no Craig here. But he had something else going for him now. Something which would always be there.
The bus had stopped, David had barely noticed, and on stepped two girls. David didn't pay them any mind, until the second, a red headed girl in sunglasses, decided to slide into the seat immediately behind him. She had the look of one of the many girls from the morning after one of the parties Craig would ocasionally drag him out to that were generally for the football team. Deep hangover. A waft of bubblegum vapour and vanilla scent rose, and his seat back rocked as she slumped down into the seat.
"Are you kidding me? You have the whole bus..." David thought to himself.
The bus smoothly went on, and David's mind tried to travel back to the task at hand. The probable procedures. Plans going forward. Just get through smoothly, cleanly, quickly and out the otherside. Think of the pen. Everything just--
"Why did you sit there? I mean... there's four people here on the whole entire bus. Four of us."
More people had gotten on the bus, but that fell beyond his notice.
"You could tell her off. Except you can't, because that's even ruder than her sitting there in the first place."
"It also doesn't exactly set the best tone. You're going to have to deal with these people. Maybe you could turn around and give her a look-- no, you've left that too long now. She'll just look at you right back and wonder what your problem is."
"But why did-- Ugh. Just ignore it. Move on. It's no big deal."
More bubblegum vapour rose from over his left shoulder. And the hard rock sounds weren't being entirely contained by her headphones.
He exhaled and returned to his thoughts. Through this, out the other side. Don't start shit. If shit finds you, polite but firm. If provoked, finish it. Your personality's your first armour in places like this. Be friendly, affab-- "Great, now your neck is itchy."
David sat more upright, turning his head slightly at the discomfort.
"Well, just scratch your neck. Nobody said you can't scratch your neck."
"Yeah, but its weird now. I feel like I'm being watched. Am I being watched? What if she thinks it's weird that I'm scratching my neck. Or that it has something to do with her sitting there..?"
"It has to do with your neck being itchy..."
"..."
"WHY DID SHE HAVE TO SIT THERE?!?"
He exhaled slowly and fully, and set his mind back on how he was going to get through the coming days.
It'll be fine. Take care of your stuff, but don't grow too attached. If someone fucks with it, or you, firm, but not overly-aggressive. Being seen as some kind of loose-thread whackjob is just as dangerous as being seen as the weak one. If anyone offers you drug shit, say no, but politely. Don't borrow shit off of ANYONE. That's how most prison fights start right there, and let's face it this isn't too different. Property, drugs, debt, over-aggression. Control those four things and-- Holy fucking shit! What the fuck was that!
Suddenly, the whole bus had lurched to the side David was sitting on. He hadn't noticed, but a large stone boy had boarded and sat somewhere behind him on his side of the bus.
--control those four things, and let's face it, that's mostly controlling yourself, and you'll avoid most fights and issues. Don't fuck up the status quo order of the complex. If there's a line, hold your place. If there's chances to call people, mail, don't screw with people's families and the things they're missing. Hup--wings. Wings..? 'K. Whatever, fair enough. She's got wings. --Don't mess with people's families and what they missing.
"And most of all."
"Most of all..."
"Don't tell 'em shit about yours and what you're missing."
The bus broke free from the airport and turned back onto the highway. In the background he could both hear the occasional gentle tones of Journey coming through the overhead speaker, with an intermittent break of harder rock running wild from the headphones of the girl seated behind him.
"Who sits right behind someone on a bus when the whole damn bus is free? What kind of person does that?"
"Still itchy."
At least the plumes of bubblegum scenting, whatever that was, had stopped wafting over the top.
The bus stopped at the old Historic Ferry Building. As a local he knew it wasn't their stop, and if there were any doubts, that thought was punctuated emphatically by the girl at the front.
An otter boarded the bus. Shook itself off and wandered down the aisle to find a seat like it was 8 o'clock and it was headed off to work.
The bus smoothly pulled away and went on towards their actual stop for the ferry to Alcatraz.
David kept rolling through everything to remember, things he'd read up on, precautions to take, surviving life in a facility... It took a little while for him to realise the bus had stopped and people had started to get off.
He put his hand to his pocket and made sure the pen was still securely there, and stood up. Letting the last of the other passengers who had been standing onger to pass him by, then he looked down and saw.
The red-headed girl in the row behind him. She was fast asleep. Looked comfortably so, as well.
"How long had she--"
David smiled and chuckled at himself, over how he'd been driving himself crazy for-- far too long. And bent down to gently wake her up, when a loud bark came from the back of the bus.
"Hey! Keep your distance! Leave the bus now!"
In stunned reaction, he raised both his hands in innocence like he'd just been caught. His eyes wide as a deer's in the headlights, he looked at the officer, slowly backing away as he walked to the front of the bus. "Just keep walking. Head down, and get out. This is how things turn bad. Don't turn back. Forget it. She's not your problem. Just get off the bus." When he got to the door he turned back and checked on what he'd left in his wake. The guard was helping the girl to her feet as she woke. David stepped off the bus and joined the others.
The ferry was already boarding kids for the first trip across, by the time he joined the group. They'd boarded a massive stone kid first, and situated him right in the middle of the boat to best maximise weight distribution. Smart. They then surrounded him with enough kids to ease pressure off the space they'd have for the second trip, whilst not putting too much of a weight burden on the historically restored Warden Johnston for the first.
David watched as the first batch of kids made their way across the bay to Alcatraz Island. Hot day, the water actually looked pretty nice. He wondered how many of the kids were thinking of some fantasy situation where they make this daring escape, swimming back over the bay through the famous cold chop. If that was their thought process, it absolutely was a fantasy. Anyone with any knowledge of the place knew how treacherous those waters would be.
He also knew he'd never have to if he really wanted to. The guard towers... if they had people in them, they only had radios. Strictly Non-lethal under the words of their own Director Rowell, not that he'd ever met the man. But with his power, David could basically make himself a staircase over the wall and down the other side, then basically roll out the force carpet for himself for a leisurely stroll across the Bay. He wasn't the only one, if the girl so chose she could likely use those wings and peace out in a moment.
But it wasn't the initial escape that would be the issue. They'd find you, they'd track you down, your record would be marked with the escape attempt, they'd put you on a watchlist for those to be held in closer scrutiny. All of which were absolutely contrary to what David wanted. He wanted in and out, with as little imprint as possible.
The boat had returned, and they all boarded. David sat in the middle. There were a lot of newcomers to the city, let them bask in the sights and sounds, as the Golden Gate Bridge overlooked their new home. He'd seen it already, beautiful as it was. It was a crowded ferry trip, let them all get in each other's space. He smiled as he watched some of them pointing and soaking it all in. Would this be the last they'd just get to be kids for a while?
The ferry docked on the other side and the kids, disembarked. Once again, David rested his hand on his hip to check his pocket, making sure nothing jostled its way out in the boatride.
They were led through gates and into an area for security screening. They all started surrendering objects, or having objects forcibly surrendered. The more belligerent were only subjected to worse treatment, patted down, frisked. David placed the pen box on the table in front of the security officer.
"I suppose it's best to leave stuff like this here, right? Likely to get stolen in there. You'll have pens and stuff on the inside that can be used anyway, right? I take it there's paperwork."
The security officer confirmed. And sealed the pen box in a bag, labelled with his name. David stood to the side and raised his arms in compliance. He was subjected to a minor, routine pat down, as he looked back at the rag-tag group of kids getting more and more battered and abused in the frisk.
After being patted down, David quietly intermingled with the group of kids who had successfully passed the screening process. Before too long, this was completed, and the group of program attendees were led down a long corridor to a basketball court. David made sure he secured his place well towards the middle, in the non-conspicuous depths of the line.
They were all assembled up in a row, and awaiting some kind of greeting. The question of who exactly was soon answered by the sharp clacking of fine leather shoes walking in an orderly gait towards the group of youths.
It was Director Rowell. He could put a face to the name, now.
Virgil Rowell was a dark-skinned gentleman, with a firm upright stance who clearly took a sense of pride in his appearance. He maintained neat dress and a pair of simple, thin glasses hung from his ears. The sides of his hair had started to gray, but did nothing to diminsh the stature of the man.
Much like his dress, he spoke crisply and neatly. Keeping it brief, he outlined the basic order and greeted them to the faility.
The large stone boy decided to see how far he could push the boundaries, as children do, and served up some sass to test the waters of response...
And then Hell broke loose.
A gaunt figure amongst them had torn off a feather from the girl with wings and was brandishing it like a-- well, there was no 'like' about it. It had become a weapon in the boy's hands. The girl objected, rearing back. The boy welcomed the violence-- Another boy moved. A girl started to disappear-- Pepperspray--
David had heard his mother talk about when she was much younger, how she'd frequent the protest circuit. For the environment, gay rights, numerous causes. David had never expected he'd find himself remembering any of that as relevant. But now he found his eyes burning from trace amounts of the airborne mist. He refrained from touching or rubbing his eyes, despite the burn. As his mother had mentioned, it only spreads the burn and makes it worse. He stepped back from the scene twice, and raising his arms, laced both his hands behind his head in compliance.
There'd be time to rinse the irritant out later. It burned, but he half squinted through the pain to try to keep an eye on everything that was happening.
The Director's bark emphatically ventilated the atmosphere. It sounded foreign, not because of an accent... but as if raising his voice was an unnatural event.
He dismissed the guard who had fired off the pepperspray, and quickly looked to regain a sense of orderly control over the situation.
This time he unloaded a longer speech, it contained a plea for understanding and empathy and further underlined the sense of community that this place was to be.
He'd been here five minutes, and for everything he'd thought of, planned for and considered, five minutes in and he was already faced with the worst possible circumstance. The one he feared most, because it was the one you couldn't plan for. The random anarchy of a near-riot fight situation breaking out.
"Welcome to fucking Alcatraz indeed..."
"HOLD!" A guttural growl came from the man in the suit, who seemed completely unaccustomed to raising his voice.
Once again, the clipped sound of fine leather was all that could be heard over deafening silence, broken only by violent coughing from a source unseen.
The Director strode up to the face of the trigger-happy guard and informed him "Dismissed."
There was no brook for arguments. The guard immediately left.
He turned to the remaining guards. "Leave. Leave. You, take him to the door." He said to the last guard, referring to Fritz, still incapacitated on the floor. "We're going to have an additional conversation." He said to the gaunt boy. "But you still need to hear this."
The children were scattered and staggered, but still roughly in one line. Albeit only seventeen of them visible, and with an auburn haired boy in a hoodie and a blonde in rockabilly attire, seemingly more than ready to take matters into their own hands.
He walked the line again, all the way to the far end where the colossal boy of granite still stood.
"That was inexcusable..."
"...and for that, I apologise."
"Here, in this facility, you will find a lot of regular human guards. Regular human guards who have only been armed with non-lethal ordnance. Who are expected to attempt to enforce order amongst people who, to them, can perform the unimaginable." He walked the line again.
"I make no excuses for them. Again, like I said, 'inexcusable'."
"I do, however, mention this so that you may perhaps be able to empathise with their position, and also understand that old addage of a man with only a hammer sees every problem a nail."
"And hope that you will also extend that empathy amongst yourselves. You are yet to have become familiar with them, and their stories, why they are here. How their lives have thusfar turned out. What their alternatives to here may have been."
"For example, Rex here, Aegis recently purchased the abandoned Old Atlanta Prison Farm and repurposed it as a Ju-V facility down in Georgia. And yet he finds himself here. In San Francisco. Perhaps with time he would trust you with why that would be the case."
"I hope that you would not hold his early behaviour too highly against young Frederick Jackson, either. I assure you, his life has not so far been easy. He likely feels scared and vulnerable. And as someone who's always only had himself he could rely upon, well, his actions to him, I'm sure seem justifiable."
"Likewise... you slapped him." He said, addressing the young winged girl. "When I said taking matters into your own hands would not be tolerated." He continued. "But everyone here saw what happened. And I'm sure others here would empathise, and not begrudge you what you did."
"But would things be different if you'd been privvy to all of Frederick's life? Or if you hadn't seen what happened just prior to that slap?"
"This is why... AFTER YOU LEAVE THIS ROOM. Such behaviour will not be tolerated in any fashion. You will maintain and care for your own property. If it is lost or stolen, the efforts for its return will be undertaken by the people here. Violence will not be accepted. Neither the initial, nor in retaliation. It may seem out of place to be quoting Gandhi in a place like this, but as he said 'An eye for an eye will only leave the whole world blind'."
"I can not and will not apologise for the presence of the guards. Or the impact upon some of your personal liberties. We have people here for various reasons - for many it is their one and only chance at rehabilitation - and we look to remove temptation where possible. There are those of you here who feel 'But I have done nothing wrong', and I sympathise, but please understand that it is for the sake of others you share your space with."
"I had not intended to make this any kind of lengthy speech. But it seems many of you needed to hear more than I'd initially intended."
"Like it or not, this IS a community. You don't have to like all your neighbours, but you will learn to co-exist with them."
"Now... I will continue this conversation with young Frederick Jackson. He will re-join you later in one of our Rec Rooms, where this guard here will now lead you. Please ensure young Natsumi is well before leaving."
I noticed that the rp has already started but the status is still lit green, so is it too late to post a cs? o.o
That green should be "It's Complicated"
Short answer "Yes, with an if", long answer "No, with a but".
I am still accepting CSs but there will be quite a wait before a point where there's an "on ramp" for new additions to start actually playing.
If you want to send a CS through, I'll certainly read it and let you know when I can wave more in.
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