Missing Hobos - Prelude

IC:
Tuesday, March 4th, 2008

"Little Joe" Morton moved cautiously around the corner of the train car, looking left and right, his eyes trying to pierce the darkness. His breathing came laboured and his face was covered in a sheen of sweat, even in the chill night air. The Wembley Yards were dark this time of night, though the light from the overhead spots and the train signal transoms cast everything in shadow. He heard a "snickt* sound, and then the sound of snuffling. It was still after him!

He remembered how the evening had started, simply enough, he and a couple of his "streety" mates coming to the train yards to seek out some shelter and a spot where they could put together a barrel fire. The night was supposed to be a cool one for early March 4th, and both he and Jakey were tired after their foraging for the day. Jakey was dead now, killed by the thing...and the others, well, he didn't know what happened to the others. He wasn't sure where that strange, flickering light had come from, but it had scared several of the others off, and they had fled into the depths of the train yards. When the things came out of it, one had leapt onto Jakey, disembowelling him rapidly...and then it had turned its attention to him. Little Joe had fled deep into the yards, but the creature had tracked him, seemingly pretty easily he thought, given his evasion skills.

He reached up to the sliding door of the train car. It was a grain car, he thought, having rode the rails several times before in his life, and would make the perfect bolthole. Assuming the creature couldn't get into the car. Don't think that way! he chided himself, and frantically reached up to slide the car door open.

Little Joe, who wasn't so little at just under 100 kilos, never did get a chance to find out if the sliding door was locked or not. He heard a sharp, rasping sound, and as he turned, the claws and jaws were on him. He frantically tried to shrug it off, screaming, but to no avail.

And then the blood flowed down the stairs leading up to the train car, splattered on the sides of the car itself, and a wet slurping sound was heard...

[Okay, folks, this is the first plot that you'll have to choose from. This is the first story post, and sets the basics of the setting and the recent event of relevance. Think of this as the Teaser before the opening credits of the episode (in this case plot). Only post up to this Prelude Thread if you intend to be active in this particular storyline. Feel free to elaborate on your character's evening and the night, or even go so far as to detail a bit about your routine at this point. Your first post should largely introduce your character and their daily routine, if the character has one. I will respond to each post if a Moderator response is needed.

The second plotline opening post is separate from this one. And remember, you can't participate in both plots at the same time.]

IC:

Bryn changed out of his overall in the little washroom next to the office. His hands still smelt of the gel they used to get all the oil and grease from them, but Bryn was used to it by now. He was pumped to be going for a run and he quickly put his tracksuit bottoms on and his Anarchy in the UK T-Shirt. He would change and shower when he got home, but for now the streets of London would be his. He decided that he would take a swing round to the docks before heading home. He fancied getting close to the O2 for a change as part of his route. He set his iPod to play The Damned's Machine Gun Etiquette.

He spotted Gareth, the other apprentice at the garage leaving in his beat up old Mercedes. No doubt it would spew out fumes into the atmosphere so that he would need to breathe it into his lungs. The car started up and belched out black fumes. Bryn gave him the finger and ran off down the street, vaulting the electricity box as he went. It was getting more difficult to be a free runner these days in the city. More and more buildings of character were being knocked down and replaced by soulless modern buildings. Bryn headed up Old Compton Street; there was a way to get up to the roof there that would give him a good stretch on top of the world away from the hordes of evening commuters who clogged the streets and held him up.

Climbing up along his route at least Bryn found himself alone. The commuters went underground to travel and he went over the top. That could have be said about Bryn in many ways however. Bryn checked his watch to make sure his time was good. He was a bit behind time because of the damned commuters so he sped up to get back on track.

The docks were being regenerated. A lot of this had happened since the millennium, but near to the canals there were still some old abandoned warehouses that had not yet been redeveloped. That wasn't going to last long as these had boards around them with "Luxury Apartments Coming Soon" written on the outside. Bryn ignored the keep out signs and clambered over the gate into the site and up a builders ramp into the main building. The f*king Corps were gutting this beautiful building to make fancy pads for the idle rich. It made Bryn feel a little sad that the soul of the building was being taken away.

The O2 was huge and had been made into another big corporate shill place. What had been built as a celebration of the millennium for the British people was now in the hands of a Telecomm firm. The millions spent for the benefit of the British people were now sold off for peanuts to Corporates. Bryn decided to get out of there and high tail it home.

He was nearly home and looking forward to the Shepherd's pie that his fake mum Annabelle was making when he spotted the Southwell Posse lounging around on the street corner ahead of him. He turned away at the last minute and used the metal chair outside the front of a little cafe to climb up on a balcony. He ran and vaulted along the balconies, the thugs smoking away below him barely noticed as he passed above them. Once he was far enough along Bryn jumped down and rolled to cushion the fall before jogging on home to the fake 'rents house for his tea followed by an extended session on Halo.

Tag: GM

It was cold, gray day in the city. The rain fell from the heavens as cars whizzed past an alleyway. People rushed down the street under their umbrellas, taking no notice of the dark shape leaning against a building. The dark shape was Aldous "Jon" St. John, a homeless vet. He stood there flat against the wall as if he was holding it up, he dared not move for fear of being soaked once again, he didn't like the rain since he didn't have spare clothes to put on or even a place to do so if he did get wet.

Aldous waited for the rain to downgrade to drizzle before heading out of the alleyway and onto the streets, he was on his way to the mission to see if they'd have room for him for the night at least. Even though he'd have to listen to some fellow preach about how the devil tempts everyone and that Jesus was the one who would save us all, he figured it was worth it than spending another night on the streets.

This was his life for the past several years, begging for money so that he could get enough to get a bottle, drink himself into a stupor to forget the images of war that replay in his brain like an old time movie show. He had no purpose in life at the moment and maybe, just maybe, death would take him from this place he come to know as Hell.

Tag: GM