Setting
The one who had organized it was a grad student. Or used to be. A curly-haired blond man in his twenties who had been working on his English thesis, and continued to do so even in C-CLASS. Jay had shared rooms with him, and the grad would read him sections of his paper for opinions. Or just to hear them out loud. And Jay would listen. And repeat the paragraphs back to him when the grad wanted to hear how something sounded. Jay learned new phrases, and the grad gained the satisfaction of hearing his own words how he wanted to hear them: from himself.
His name was Henry Evans, but everyone called him Dodge. He insisted on it. He had heightened reflexes, and could predict things moments before they happened, making him a wizard at pinball, dodgeball, and fistfights.
He was smart. Charismatic. Easy with the girls, but always focused. He spoke of human rights and marches. Protests and change. He had a degree. A thesis. A brain. Most importantly, he had a plan. And the plan worked. For the most part.
Something had happened. Jay wasn't sure what. But they were found out, and the plan dissolved. Dodge had back-up plans, but he never planned on himself dying. Which was exactly what happened.
With their leader dead, chaos erupted. Jay had barely managed to escape, using trickery to both distract the guards and to rally those who hadn't seen Dodge die. He had been around Dodge more than enough to hear his catchphrases, shouts, and mannerisms. In the dark, no one could tell that the straight-haired Asian was the one responsible for Dodge's voice. They just knew to follow.
A handful of people managed to escape. Most of them Jay recognized. None of them he trusted. A safe distance away from the facility, the truth quickly spread that Dodge wasn't there. That he had died. The group was silent, but kept moving. What else was there to do?
The next day, silence stayed. No one talked much, at least that Jay heard. Disbelief was still in the air. They were free! But without their leader, where would they go? Jay remembered something in the plan about trying New York City, but that was it. Dodge never really went into details about after. He had been too focused on escaping. And now he was dead.
So they walked. And walked. No food was found that day, and they slept late in a field. Today he woke up, hungry and sore, covered in burs. What he would kill for a shower and a new pair of clothes. But by noon, signs advertising the big city loomed. Less than a hundred miles. Still a walk, but close. More cars showed up on the road, and Jay debated hitch-hiking. Or even a bus. Did anyone have money? He didn't even think to ask...how would he be able to?
They stumbled across a bus stop, and here Jay slowed down. Tapping the sign, hoping to get everyone's attention, he raised his eyebrows and imitated a bus sound, making the hitch-hiker's thumb and hoping someone would figure out his charade.
The group was one she stuck with only because numbers seemed smart at this point. Splitting without a plan of her own would be stupid and she didn't consider herself to be a stupid person. Erin didn't trust them though. She didn't trust anyone after they hauled her away to that facility. Any one of them could be a spy for the government, or have their own agendas. They were locked up for a reason after all. Some of them could be murderers.
Like Erin.
She fought back her burning tears and swallowed the hot lump in her throat. Yeah, she had killed. Intentionally and unintentionally. Either way, it was the truth. Three people were dead because of her. And her Dis-Ability.
Erin huffed when the group paused, a bus sign tapped on. The Asian boy made a strange sound that brought Erin fully back to their situation and predicament. On the run and all that. No food, no shelter. Just sore feet and no proper clothes. Erin knew it was shallow, but dammit, she hated these get-ups they had had to wear inside those stone walls. Simple, uniform and gray. Her tongue winced a bit in disgust, glancing at everyone's nearly identical dress. It was gross and made them stick out like sore thumbs, or anything sore for that matter.
Ugh, my feet.
"Bus sounds good," she began, crossing her arms over her chest. "But we're not exactly dressed for success," she added, gesturing to everyone. "They'll find us in a heartbeat. We need to blend in more."
Riley had been running with the odd group for two days, and the group was completely consisting of people he had seen around the place but never really talked to them. He has been running for two days with very little breaks and no food that had caused him to be very sore and hungry and noticed the same for everyone. Riley was very conflicted right now, he was happy that he had escaped C-CLASS but sad on how things are going to work out, many people he knew inside were dead or captured and he managed to escape only on his power.
Riley noticed how the group started to slow down and thought they were taking another quick break but he had noticed the charade the other Asain was putting up and cocked his head. He was very bad at this game but after the bus sound he had finally got what he was saying and after the girl with the very peculiar hair color finished speaking he tried to add on. "Yeah. She is right, with a group of tired, hungry, young adults wearing the same exact attire may bring suspension to us in the bus."
How had she ended up in it in the first place? If only she hadn't been such a child and ran off to the forest like she had. What personal demon possessed her to the point of using her powers? If she'd just grown the hell up and gotten over herself, she'd be sitting in her little house, sipping a cup of tea while reading a good book. Instead, she was trekking across God knows where with people she didn't know and with little chance of survival. Why had Dodge gone and gotten himself killed? The group wouldn't stay together without him as a leader.
As they talked about their uniforms, Austen glanced down at hers, hoping no one would really take notice of how hers differed. Instead of the gray shirt and pants, she was dressed in a white jumpsuit that went down to her ankles and up to a stiff collar that sat protectively around her neck. Her hands were enclosed in the normal tight, leather gloves and her feet were adorned with thick combat boots.
No one really payed her much attention, though, so hopefully it could go unnoticed, or perhaps they wouldn't care. As they calmed down, Austen shuffled a bit closer, not wanting to miss out on the plan. She stood among the group now, resisting the urge to lower her head. These people were different just as she was, she had no reason to fear them or their opinions.
With these thoughts burning in her mind, she spoke up. "Perhaps we should move quickly; I don't feel safe out in the open like this. There's no telling how many people are looking for us right now."
Turning back to the boy with a strange voice, Austen again listened closely. So, raiding a house it was. Taking a moment to lock away any and all guilt she might feel at trespassing into someone's home, she dutifully followed. As the one guy gestured that it was safe, she slipped past him into they empty house.
It was a medium sized place, almost large. It looked nice, but Austen didn't waste any time looking around; after all, they were on the run. Assuming the bedrooms were upstairs, the mutant used her long legs to take the steps two at a time. She then began opening all the doors, until she found one that was clearly owned by a teenage girl. Crossing her fingers, Austen approached the closet.
A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she threw open the doors. The closet was overflowing with clothes, nearly bulging - though that might have more to do with the mess than the actual amount of clothing. The unknown girl wore average sized clothing, it looked like, which was for the best. All the girls were of average or smaller build, so it seemed like all them would be properly clothed.
Rummaging through closet, she pulled out a soft, black sweater that was covered in white crosses. After some more searching, she pulled out a pair of thick, dark wash skinny jeans. They were a bit too big, so she also snagged a belt. Clothes in hand, Austen went back down stairs and to the small restroom she had noticed earlier.
Using a rag and the sink, she cleaned the collected grime and dirt from her body as well as she could. It made a world of difference. Hoping no one would mind, she then turned on the faucet in the shower and dunked her hair underneath. Quickly putting some soap she'd grabbed into it then rinsing once more.
Austen than discarded her uniform and pulled on the stolen clothing. The pants didn't fit her all that well, but it would be ridiculous to assume they would. With the belt, they stayed well enough. The sweater was also a little too big, but that was a good thing; it covered all of her skin well. Pulling her boots and gloves back on, she was finished. Feeling cleaner, she went back to main area of the house, intending to search for a bag to begin filling.
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