Aaron "Sullivan"
The wind picked up, spraying dust from the ground in every direction. The town went from a riot to silence in mere moments. Aaron soon realized why.
Picking himself up and turning away, there was a monstrous cloud of dust and sand particles; a storm was upon them and everyone was seeking shelter. The former town guard figured he should do the same, and he began dragging himself away from Patrick Clay's grave.
Aaron wandered down the nearly barren streets; the only sign of motion were a couple in the distance seeking shelter, and tow boys running past him to their house. Where would he go? His tent would work, but he couldn't get to it in time and set it up for shelter. He'd have to find a building. But, seeing as he didn't own any land, the question became where he could go and not be caught for trespassing.
The Mech Hall. It was the closest thing to him now. It wwas unlikely that anyone would be there, and the windows near the roof of the building were almost always open; he'd have to climb fast.
With the storm getting only worse, Aaron moved faster; a primal instinct of survival was kicking in. He was able to run at, and kick off a small cabin of a house to get on top of it. Pulling himself up, he began walking from rooftop to rooftop towards the Mech Hall. Eventually, he found one of the windows he was looking for. And lucky for him, it was open.
With a leap of faith, the mountaineer ran and leaped for the window, grabbing onto its bottom. It was easy enough to pull himself up and in. He ended up on a catwalk that overlooked the main work area of the Hall. Closing the windows behind him, Aaron went down to a stool at a work bench. He rested his arms and hunched over, resting his head on the counter.
"I'm just so tired of this shit..." Aaron said to himself. There was a hollow feeling in his chest that seemed all too familiar to him.
"This is only getting worse..."