ID Number: 771-000-231
Resident Wendigo RISK LEVEL: 5
Latest Status: Unavailable
Posts: 29
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Post by FREDDY 'FRITZ' PERKINS on Jan 13, 2020 12:23:01 GMT 1
Fritz ran a hand through his hair and leant against the wall of the classroom that he'd slipped into. His chest rose and fell heavily as he attempted to control his breathing away from the bloodied scene that he'd been witness to in the canteen. Footsteps hurried down the hall and the clink of the chains around his wrists sounded out as his hands dropped back down to rest in front of his stomach. He was restrained but otherwise unguarded at the moment, his guard having left as soon as the door beside him had been shut. Shut but not locked. Freddy had been fed and fed well just a few hours beforehand and he's had an impeccable record of being quite well behaved within the eight hours of recieving meat.. But they knew that the fresh scent of blood and flesh would set him off and so he had been one to remove from the scene before shit really hit the fan.
It hadn't been quick enough, the first scent of blood had hit him when he'd been halfway out of the room and he'd turned back with a snarl already pulling at his lips, his incisors the first teeth to slowly elongate. But a low, stunning shock of a blow to his back had broken that potential breakdown and he'd chosen to turn and leave the room. He cared little for anybody within the canteen but he wasn't looking to mindlessly slaughter people because he'd been nearby. He may not mind bloodshed and killing others but he prefers to do it on his terms, not because he's lost face.
He has standards. His own, twisted set of standards but they exist nonetheless.
It took perhaps a few minutes before he ended up taking one last deep breath and he could be certain that his mind was his own once more, there was no chance of him attempting to rip the door off of the hinges to get back out there. Perfect. So, he wandered over to the desk within the room and pulled at one of the drawers. Papers. Boring. Next drawer, a muesli bar, more papers and was that a phone? He pulled the thing out and attempted to turn it on. Dead, fantastic, not that he had anybody he'd want to call anyway other than a few ex work collegues, to see if they knew what he'd done. It would amuse him to no end to hear them scuttling about trying to triangulate his whereabouts. That's assuming if Manson hadn't cleared up his basement for him.
It was useless though, so he tossed it back into the drawer and forced open the locked lower desk drawer and smirked triumphantly. A packet of cigarettes and a lighter, perfect. He wasn't out to start a fire though, but this was a sense of normality and so he grabbed the two things and moved over to the window to open the thing partially. The bars on the other side of the glass prevented him from opening it wider than a couple of centimeters but it was enough to catch a breath of fresh air and to happily settle down on the windowledge and spark up a cigarette, whilst watching the slow progession of a forgotten piece of tinsel blow across the lawns slowly.
"Happy fucking new year," he muttered, christmas had passed uncelebrated. So had new years.. Although he'd heard distant fireworks from his cell on the night. Holidays mean nothing though to somebody like him, he wasn't too bothered.
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THE VIOLENT
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ID Number: 432-444-A980
Resident Gorgon RISK LEVEL: 5
Latest Status: Unavailable
Posts: 26
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Post by YENIFER MONTANARI on Jan 17, 2020 14:19:35 GMT 1
| | Yen still didn’t like this place. She loathed being told when she could do things or how she could do them for that matter. Hated being watched all the time too for that matter, but that was less of an issue than other things. This place would be much better if she could at the very least get back to work. Even just from her room, but no, she barely even got to bring a book. Needless to say, she wasn’t overly enthusiastic when she was picked up for food. She needed some form of entertainment to keep herself from dying of boredom.
While she wasn’t really one to back away from violence, she had taken one step inside the canteen before her guard had to step into something else and she was backing out of there without anyone really paying attention to her. Fighting was one thing, fires and snow like that another thing entirely. She was too old for that shit, -and- this seemed like one of the few times she’d be able to slip away unnoticed for a while without putting anyone in the infirmary. Even if she couldn’t get off the floor on her own, she could at least wander on her own. Though when she heard footsteps she slipped inside a classroom and closed the door behind her. She hadn’t expected there to be anyone else in there honestly, she’d just not wanted to risk a guard taking her to her room under threats of sticking a needle in her neck if she didn’t want to come along. Mealtime would clearly have to wait until later.
Since it seemed like she was too late to rummage through the desk for anything useful, she instead moved closer to the window and the man on the sill. It seemed like the closest she’d get to any fresh air in a while so she might as well try to enjoy it. “Care to share?” She asked, gently tapping the pack of cigarettes once with her index finger. While she figured she could just take them, it seemed useful to try to make some allies around this place. That was something she knew was easier to do if she wasn’t purposefully antagonizing people. And he wasn’t some kid taking a bite out of her hair so that made her more inclined towards trying things the nice way first. Especially since he really was the best looking thing she’d seen that day.
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ID Number: 771-000-231
Resident Wendigo RISK LEVEL: 5
Latest Status: Unavailable
Posts: 29
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Post by FREDDY 'FRITZ' PERKINS on Jan 27, 2020 12:59:51 GMT 1
For a predator Fritz has not been imbued with the heightened senses of smell or sight, at least not in this form. He doesn't smell blood himself but the creature that lingers within him most certainly does, it just so happens that when he feels that part of him stirring that he knows there's somebody or something edible nearby. Usually if he's actually hungry, well, that's when it emerges more strongly and he tends to just go with it. There's never any use fighting the inevitable. It's how he knows when somebody is nearby too, however, he heard the click of the door as somebody entered and there was no reaction within him. He breathed out a lungful of smoke and let his gaze flicker over to the intruder momentarily, he'd originally thought it'd be a vampire, a creature he's not too worried about in the slightest when it comes to his own safety. But.. She was no walking dead thing. He doesn't know how he knows that, only that he does. But she didn't hit his radar as food. How curious.
He's not shy when it comes to weighing out his possible opponant and so his gaze unashamedly raked over her body, from the tips of her fingers to the tips of her shoes. To some it may come across as a possible leer or sorts, somebody seeking out admirable assets in another, he was more wondering if she could harm him before he ripped out her innards if it came to that. Yet he would seem completely unbothered, not an ounce of tension in his body, he even let out a small breath of amusement when she asked her question. Share. When did he ever share?
"Not mine anyway, so go ahead," he sounded almost as nonchalant as he appeared. If he recieved a tap on the wrist for helping himself to locked drawers at least now he had an accomplice. Better to share a possible reprimand than take it on his own. The wendigo raised the cigarette to his lips again and took a deep if not quick toke on the thing, "I take it that the guards don't know you're here?" If they had then they may have cautioned against her entering the room with him. It seemed the staff here seemed to believe that isolation and constant guarding was necessary for him. Especially since he was without the muzzle they so often strapped to his face and the chains that weighed him down.
Those things usually put him more on edge, more dangerous, without them he at least could relax. It's what he'd told his therapist in his last session and this seemed to be the first time they were throwing him a thin line of trust. He's classing that as progress.
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