Devon Caldera's Story

Sebastian Washington looked through the cracked lens of the plastic telescope he had found a couple days back and scanned the area around the seemingly abandoned Super 8. Unlike the Super 8 in Seb’s memory, this once had been subjected to the looting of various groups. The courtyard which once sported a magnificent fountain had become overgrown by weeds that had cracked the concrete and fountain, the windows had all been boarded up to prevent anyone from getting inside. Though due to Sebastian and his pack running into the previous group that had inhabited the building there was almost a one-hundred percent chance that it was still uninhabited due to the large metal padlock hung prominently from the large wooden door. Taking a deep breath he turned to face the small group of ragamuffins and met the eighteen pairs of eyes staring back at him. Though it wasn’t the most ideal group of people, Sebastian considered these people to be closer to him than the family he had been forced to leave behind.

He especially noted the two once-eyed men in his pack and the dirty blonde, “Izzy…Dev and Cat.” He thought to himself as he struggled to remember Dev and Cat’s names due to them being more recent additions.

“We’ve been travelling for about a three days now,” he stated looking at the tired looks on everyone’s face. “I know provisions are fairly sufficient for the moment, but as for a place to stay, we have finally arrived here.”

Seb pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the boarded but Super 8 in the background. Though it looked as though it had already been looted, it was still standing strong against the harsh environment of the Grove.

“It’s definitely not ideal, but for the ten of us, I believe this will be enough to keep us afloat for quite some time.” He continued, as he turned his back towards the group and pushed open the gate.



“Dev, do you think you’d be able to pick the lock on the front door?” Sebastian asked, his eyes sweeping over to the second one-eyed man in his group.

Devon leaned against a broken chunk of concrete, probably left over from another hotel. Only it and other such rubble remained. Devon had been traveling with Sebs little group for approximately a week now. And during that time he had spoken maybe thirty words, all of them to the groups leader, Seb. And these words were said in small bursts in response to questions only. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be staying with this group. He’d fallen in and out of several different gangs in the two months since he’d been thrown into this hellhole.

When Seb addressed him directly, Devon pushed himself off of the rubble and slowly walked towards their fearless leader. As he walked he rolled his shoulders, the tightly corded muscle rippling under the slew of prison tats adorning his chest, back and arms. The dirty orange bandanna he was using as an eyepatch was slowly being stained red from the poorly healing cavity beneath it. Reflexively he reached up to scratch his eye and stopped himself at the last second; choosing instead to brush his hair back out of his good eye.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Six words in a row, new record.

Rummaging around in his pockets he withdrew a small jackknife and a paperclip. The paperclip was already bent in a few places near the end in the shape of a basic pick. Reaching out to test the door he missed the handle. His shoulders tensed as rage wracked his body. Knuckles white he slowly calmed himself down and adjusted his aim. Using the knife as a torsion wrench he slowly and methodically picked the lock to the Super 8.

Finally, with a satisfying click, the door swung open into the darkness and relative safety of the derelict hotel. Stepping back to observe his handiwork he allowed himself a rare smile. “Doors open,” he stated before slipping inside, heading straight for the key registry. Luckily they were all good old fashioned key locks, no cards. Quickly snatching the next to last one up he slid aside to allow the rest of their little pack to get at the counter.

Caitlin stood near the back of the group, she didn't much care for crowds of people wasn't particularly her favorite thing. Her feet were aching but this wasn't as bad as some of her other journeys, a place to sit back and rest a while sounds good to her, no arguing here. Caitlin been with this group for maybe a week or so not all that long. This will be made the 2nd or 3rd group she's been in. The other groups she just couldn't get along with, hopefully this is a different group and the outcome will be better.

Seb called upon a young man to the left of her, he's a mysterious fellow, been with us right after she arrived. The one named Dev, or so that's what we call him mostly. He doesn't talk much, but than again neither does Caitlin.She's only ever heard him speak occasionally usually when he is asked something, but never openly talks to the other members. I guess that's kind of a good idea. She watches as he pushes through the crowd of people to unlock the door to super 8. Didn't take him that long to accomplish the deed, which is a pretty good skill to have. The one thing that sticks out to Caitlin about Dev is how redefined he is, doesn't let things or people really get to him. It's a good trait.

"Doors open" Caitlin heard Dev say, she peered back up at the door, at least they have someone who could pick locks, or who knows how long we'd be sitting here.

After a few moments people start piling in to get to super 8. Caitlin slowly follows behind everyone, examining surrounding, taking it all in. Sure this might have been ransacked but at least the place is still standing. Any shelter now and days is better than being vulnerable out in the open any day. Once inside, Caitlin peers around the old run down place. Sturdy. Good enough for her, she can't complain about a place to rest her head. Anything is better than nothing.

Caitlin brushes the hair out of her face, as she looks up "Nice.." She whispers to herself. She could get use to this place, even if it is only for the night or maybe even just a few days.

Waiting until everyone had entered the building, Sebastian put the plastic telescope in his pocket before entering the Super 8. After entering the lobby, he sighed with relief, while the outside of the old hotel was bad, the inside was still seemingly structurally sound. Support beams and pillars held up the roof which had obvious signs of patchwork, the reception counter stood to the left of the door while the number of doors on the first floor numbered twelve.

“According to the previous residents, there should be twenty-four rooms, twelve on the first floor and the remaining twelve on the second floor. There’s also a kitchen with locked cabinets, a guard post, three-story underground garage, gardener’s shed and various other locked doors. If we get lucky then maybe the locked cabinets will present and opportunity for food assuming no wild animals.” As Sebastian’s mind moved at a pace far faster than his actions, he eventually made his way to the reception desk and looked at a map of the rooms.

Turning towards the key locker, he pulled down the keys for rooms 204, 210, and 212. Handing Keys 204 and 210 to Genoa and Issac respectively before turning to the rest of the group.

“Those who wish to have a private room may only take one key, the available rooms are any on the first floor and a few on the second floor. Though we don’t have much, I would like to assign a few people to begin boarding up any open holes you see,” he said nodding to the various other people standing around after they had chosen rooms on the first floor. “Other than that, we need to get some rest and plan out our teams search through this place. Dev, I’ll put you in charge of the search and will help out myself. Those that are boarding this place up will be on guard duty which will rotate in the morning. If anyone has any questions don’t hesitate to ask.”

Sebastian’s speech seemingly rallied the first floor inhabitants into action as they scattered throughout the building before the sound of work began echoing through the building. Seb took a seat at the reception desk and handed out keys as they were requested making sure to take meticulous notes on who was staying in what room as the sun slowly began to set in the distance.

Caitlin stood and thought for a while. Maybe she'll take a room to herself. it would sure come in handy when she needs time alone. She peers around the room, and scans the people around her. She's not quite sure if she will get to know anyone yet. She shrugs it off and fixes her coat and proceeds over to Seb. "I'll take a room for myself for now, but if anyone wants to join me they are more than welcome." Caitlin says calming and takes the key to room 209, which is located on the second floor of super 8. Caitlin takes the key gently from the desk, and proceeds to find her room before she starts fixing things up and is on guard duty. She doesn't really mind guard duty, it's often very peaceful. On her way to the stairs, she spotted Dev, he seems like an alright guy, a little mysterious but it's probably better to keep things and even talents to yourself. She's grateful he came along, or they might still be stuck outside of super 8.

She proceeds up the stair and turns left towards the window, she slowly walks seeing how study the floor boards and walls are. Caitlin gets to her room number and slides the key into the keyhole, turning it gently to the right unlocking the door. The door slowly creeks open, she helped by pushing a tad on the door. Once fully open, she stepped inside examining her surrounding. "Pretty dusty." She walkes over to bunk bed.

"Guess this is a room made for two." she shrugged. There was only a bed a mirror and a single dresser. Caitlin walks over closer to the mirror and see's it's been shattered a bit. Taking a step closer, you can her glass break under her feet. She stepped away, its not that bad, could be worse. Caitlin looked back at the door that was now all the way open.

"Better get back and start helping out as much as I can." Caitlin says proceeding out the door, she takes her time down the hallway and down the stairs into the lobby. Once at the bottom of the stairs she turns right and proceeds to look around for something that may need some tidying up or repairing. Sure she's not sure how she'll help with something but it's worth a shot looking around and finding at least a few things to help with, even if it is just moving something or whatever.

During his days in the mob, outside the walls, he’d been a runner. Taking messages to and from different places, bookie, underbosses, those types. He knew where everybody lived, he knew who everybody was. He even knew what type of brandy they all preferred and who they were fucking a the time. He knew it all, he had to. It was either know it, or get fed to the sharks. He had been a fast learner, and he was good at his job. Until he got caught.

The authorities had been coming down hard on organized crime in the area and were looking for people to rat out their comrades. Willing or not, they didn’t care. Devon was one of the unwilling, but they had had him by the balls and were squeezing tighter and tighter. He had to rat his old bosses out.
He shook the memories away as he entered the motel. He immediately headed for the key register, taking 211 as it was the one that seemed farthest away from all the others. The key for 212 had already been taken. Taking the rest of the keys he threw them on the table in the lobby, let the rest fend for the others. As long as he was away from the rabble, he was going to be happy. Well, not happy, but what was the fucking difference in these times.

Quickly climbing he back stairs he came up to room 211 “this fucking place better be worth it,” he muttered to himself going to unlock the door. He missed, he missed the keyhole. Fighting back tears and rage he adjusted to the left slightly and key hit lock. God you’re useless you stupid fuck, he thought to himself as he entered the room, slamming the door behind him.

After he’d ratted out his bosses he’d been placed into protective custody. He tried to rebuild his life, ran a small lock shop in little Italy. Being second generation Italian he fit right in. But it hadn’t been enough, his past caught up to him. He’d been framed for the murder of his new girlfriend, and thrown in the pokey. While he was there he met his past again. This time in the form of a large man with mob cash in his account. He’d come out of that scrap alive but missing his eye, and he’d come to hate the first part.

Again shaking away the past he began to take stock of his room. Locking the door behind him he started to explore. Moving to the bathroom he found the locked medicine cabinet. Sticking the pick part of his climbing picks into the gap between the mirror and the wall, he pried the mirror door loose. Inside he found nothing of great use, just the complimentary toothbrush, toothpaste, a small bottle of mouthwash, and floss. Rolling his eyes he scooped it all into one of the rooms pool bags, he then resumed his exploration. Moving into the main room he found the mini fridge, with the usual two bottles of overpriced bullshit purified water.

It was inside the closet he found the first interesting thing he’d seen all day, the minibar. Finding it locked he tried his picks again. These failing he reached into his pocket, fishing around for that jackknife and paperclip. Bending the paperclip a couple times he inserts it into the lock, under it he uses the knife as a torsion wrench. Listening and feeling carefully for a few minutes he hears a click and turns the lock to find the minibar half stocked with the cheapest liquor he could imagine. Rolling his eyes he scooped it all into the bag, he’d never been one for strong drink.

Making one last sweep of the obvious areas he checked the drawers, just in case anyone left anything. He struck gold in the form of a quarter pack of cigs. Taking one out of the pack and sniffing it like it was a cigar he smiled for the first time in a long time. These would come in handy. Pocketing them, he began to make his way out of the room and back to the lobby when a pair of thoughts struck him. Going back to the bathroom he checked the faucet, a vain hope, but it was a hope nonetheless. Getting nothing from that he moved on to the second idea. Checking the outside window he noticed a fire escape running close to his window. Taking note of this he headed for the door again.

That’s when the pain struck him. His eye socket had never fully healed as he never had it treated properly in the first place. Dropping to his knees biting back a scream he slammed his fist into the wall. Anything to make this pain end. After what seemed like hours the pain subsided. Pulling himself shakily up, he made his way to the bathroom. Untying the bandanna from around his eye he picked out the dirty gauze from the socket. What greeted his half sight was a blank pink fleshy hole where his eye used to be. The back of the socket was dark with dried blood and scabbing and the eyelids had long since collapsed inwards into the gaping cavity in his head. Turning the gauze inside out for the third time he stuffed it back in, biting back another scream as pain wracked his being. Then he tied the bandanna back around it, keeping it under his hair, so as little was seen of it as possible.

Turning from his own reflection in disgust he left the room, locking it again behind him. Making his way down the stairs he had to jump onto a railing to avoid the quiet girl Caitlyn making her way up the stairs. The thought of his old parkour days struck him suddenly as the urge to try them again welled up inside of him. Biting them back with a grim silence he jumped back onto the stairs as Caitlyn passed. Plopping his bag of trophies next Seb he caught him as he was assigning duties.

“Stay here, supervise the crew. I’ll find someone to help. Or not, doesn’t matter either way to me.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about being so talkative lately.

He’d been told about the kitchen and the sub-basement parking area. He figured there was nothing of use left in the kitchen but it was worth checking anyway. He adjusted the ragged canvas bag to rest behind him as he loosened the rusty climbing picks in their makeshift holsters. If he couldn’t pick them he’d pry them open. If anyone wanted to wander in and help, that was up to them.

After most of the keys had been handed out, Seb scanned the lobby for any other people that he had missed before he shrugged and began his walk towards the stairs. Various orders had already been given so his mind had finally given him a moment of silence; however, he understood the underlying problems that his pack had.

“Food, water, the necessities, given enough time we can secure these, but I’m not sure how we’ll handle the winter.”

Once Seb arrived in front of his room, he looked around once more before unlocking the door and hurrying inside. Though the room came standard with the standard amenities, it reminded Seb of his families small one-room apartment back in the North. With a deep sigh, Seb sat down his backpack and rummaged through it before pulling out an old book and flipping through it.

“Stupid fucking shit biscuit bastard son of a bitch goat fucking…” the cursing when on consistently unbroken flowing between Italian and English as he was attempting to pry the door open. Because of the cursing he hardly noticed the quiet voice behind him. “Huh…wha… oh, not really. Just stand back a bit. Once this door pops it may send something flying.”

With a few more heaves, and much more cursing, he wrenched the door open sending part of the sill flying past his head. Although he almost didn’t notice because it went past the left side of his face. “Santo inferno, really wish the last person hadn’t broken the cazzo key in the lock.” Sliding his picks easily back into their holsters he made careful note of her choice of weapons. A rusted cleaver, as he didn’t know anything at all about her other than she seemed quiet, he didn’t know what that said about her. What he did know however was that with her, as with everyone, he was going to keep his eyes… eye… on her.

“Come on then, an extra set of hands to carry shit won’t go amiss,” he said as he entered the kitchen. The kitchen itself was fairly standard as far as hotel kitchens went. There was a row of cabinets set under a faux marble countertop with another row above those. A few hung open, their only contents a few listless cobwebs and their well-fed residents. There was a single stove across the room from the counters, next to that was a large fridge. There was little hope of anything being in the fridge but it wouldn’t hurt to check.

“Alright kid… Ash was it?” He made it a point of listening as to be able to know as much as possible without giving away too much. He was pretty sure he’d heard either her say her name was Ash, or someone else had. “Either way, you go ahead and check the fridge and the stove, see if they stashed anything in either of them. When checking the stove, lift up on the grill parts of it so the underside of it is exposed. Theres usually a good three inches of free space where anything of value or use could be stashed. I’ll start working on these cabinets.”

Again with the talkative nature, what the fuck was wrong with him.

He rolled his shoulders and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet as he contemplated the cabinets. They were simple enough but the locks were a combination of inset locks on the actual cabinet, with an outside lock latched around the handles, closing them off from prying hands. Cracking his knuckles he took out one of his picks, intending to simply hammer them off. Then the thought struck him that they might be able to use these again to secure the Super 8, of course no one had keys, but he could probably teach a few of the more apt to pick. And of course they could just be left be. Sliding the pick back home with a heavy sigh and a breathed curse he fished the paperclip and jackknife out of his pockets again and set to work.

Nodding, Ash immediately made her way to the fridge. There was a lock binding to the said fridge, unsheathing her cleaver, she glanced at it. All Ash could do was hope that it was strong enough. The lock was intertwined with chain, rust decorating it thoroughly. She struck the rustiest section of the chain. It didn't break, but there was a large cut in it now. It was deep, almost halfway through it. This was when Ash realised her cleaver was stuck. It had happened many a time befoe. Pulling out the cleaver with effort, she brought it down again, actually breaking the chain. The rust on the chain probably helped. Ash pulled open the fridge. What was in it was...disappointing. It wasn't empty, just very very sparsely supplied. There was a package of crackers, sealed, and a rotten apple, "That's..nasty." She mumbled to herself, before taking the crackers, leaving the unwanted apple left behind.

Glancing at Devon, the only thought that came to mind was, 'He swears a lot.'.

Next was the stove, she opened it, only to see cobwebs draping from the sides and ceiling of it. Ash remembered what Devon had said, so she pulled the grill parts up, revealling ammunition. Of course, it wasn't much ammunition, and there wasn't a gun, but it was certainly useful. Making her way over to Devon again, "Not much, a box of crackers and some ammo...I'm not sure what kind of ammo, though." Ash informed, glancing at the lock, that one looked industrial, there was no way Ash's cleaver was going to get through that without having to hit it an insane amount.

Survival in the Grove was never something that left one untouched. If it wasn't the severe hunger or thirst constantly gnawing at ones thoughts, it was the other residents of the Grove that would rob what little food and water one would have while beating them. To put it simply life was unfair, it was a fact Izzy had long learned to accept. However no matter how dark things got there was always a tiny speck of light if one knew where to look. Izzy found that very same light in Seb, the man who had stayed by his side longer than he could ever remember. So when Seb decided to leave to learn more about the other gangs outside of the Fists, it was only obvious that Izzy would follow suite.

Staring at Seb, Izzy noted that Seb wore the mantle of leadership quite well. It had only been a few days since the small ragtag group had been formed, however Seb had yet to truly hesitate in his role as leader. It was truly commendable. Tearing himself free from his thoughts, Izzy focused on the words of Seb as he took lead over the others. “We’ve been travelling for about a three days now, I know provisions are fairly sufficient for the moment, but as for a place to stay, we have finally arrived here. It’s definitely not ideal, but for the ten of us, I believe this will be enough to keep us afloat for quite some time. Dev, do you think you’d be able to pick the lock on the front door?”” Once the speech had ended and Dev had responded to their leader’s orders in kind, Izzy slightly made his way more forward to stand near his dear friend.

"Still can't say I totally agree with this Seb, but I know you are doing what's best." Izzy lightly bit his lip after speaking. Unlike his friend, Izzy had grown to extremely distrust others. While the Grove hadn't been kind to either of them, Izzy's experiences had built up a whole lot of resentment and hate. In the end it was only Seb that was able to keep him from mentally collapsing inward. So once the gang formed, Izzy made sure to take an active role in reminding Seb that always acting in the best interest of the group would one day get him killed. That he owed these people nothing and one day they would betray him. However with tensions high enough over any potential threats residing in the Super 8, Izzy decided to leave things where he had. Seb didn't need to receive another lecture right now. Luckily it didn't take much waiting before Dev had deftly picked the lock, Izzy had to admit he severely disliked being out in the open, too many risks associated with such a large group being spotted. So with a quick nod toward Seb, Izzy followed the group which began to carefully slip into the silent Super 8.

Making his way into the dusty shithole, Izzy’s eye carefully glanced about the interior. Looking for even the tiniest glint of potential danger. However even after a quick glance, the place looked abandoned since the very opening of the Grove. Not only did this mean very little chance of danger but also that meant chances were some supplies probably still remained. All in all, it was a shithole of a home but that was the norm of life in the Grove. "So this will be home huh?" Izzy muttered to himself as he gently scratched under his eyepatch. Turning on his heels towards Seb once he finished barking a few orders, Izzy wordlessly approached and snatched the key of the room he had offered. There had to be no exchange between the two to understand that he had given him the key to the room next to Seb’s own room. Such things were expected between the two of them. Somewhat reluctantly, Izzy left Seb to conduct his work at the reception desk while making his way upstairs to the place that would serve as his new living quarters, room 210. Before he could step into his room however, Izzy felt someone's gaze resting on his back. Turning away from the door, Izzy looked over to see the woman known as Gen gazing at him. Scowling slightly at the sight of her, Izzy watched her roll her eyes and sulk off. He wasn't quite sure what that was all about nor did he want to know. Izzy knew she was trouble and regretted that he surrendered to Seb's decision to let her in. Shaking the event away Izzy silently stepped inside the room, setting his sledgehammer to the side as he began to explore to room for any contents that would prove useful. Through his search he had found two water bottles, a pack of chewing gum, and an odd looking book called a Holy Bible. "A Holy Bib-le? Bibble?" Izzy raised it to the light and stared at it for some time before deciding to set it with the rest of the supplies.

Izzy couldn’t find the concept of reading all that appealing, perhaps it was due to the fact when he tried it took him longer to read a page than to do anything else in his life. He wasn't illiterate as his father did teach him how to read and write somewhat but it did take him sometime to do so since he was not well versed with it. Regardless, if the book could provide them with some fuel to cook or provide warmth in the winter, that's all what really mattered. Once everything was ready to be brought down and added with the rest of the supplies, Izzy reached into his pocket and pulled out his singular deck of playing cards. They were rough looking and quite beat-up however while those were true Izzy had also taken very good care of them. The result was still relatively usable cards, a rarity in the Grove. So quickly hiding it in one of the drawers, Izzy scooped everything up and made his way downstairs.

Once Izzy had added his supplies to the pile, his attention once again shifted onto Seb who once again was attempting to lead the masses. Once he had finished, Izzy began slowly making his way after Seb. They had things to discuss and plans to make, while Izzy was definitely not the best at the two he would at least serve as a wall to bounce ideas off of. "Seb." Izzy called out to his friend once he had closed the distance between the two of them at the reception desk. "Mind if we talk? It's about who gets to do what in the future.” As Izzy spoke to Seb, he didn’t waste time settling in, making room for himself on the wall beside him despite Seb desired to talk or not. “Quite honestly we need to discuss scavenging. Even if we do find enough supplies here to last us a while, these things should be held onto as a last resort. After all there will always be days were scavenging turns up nothing, or worse, we lose a scavenger out there in the streets of the Grove.” After muttering out the sobering points, Izzy lightly scratched at his eyepatch again before letting out a small sigh. “I know you are thinking about putting this burden on yourself like you do with everything but I’ll ask you not to. You’re needed here. As you can see your presence is somewhat calming to the masses. We’ll need that in the future especially when food and water begin to run out.”