6/8/2004

02:47 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.

SCCU: The Quad(#3990RJ$)
Like most colleges, St. Claire City University has an area known only as 'the Quad'. This is it. Sidewalks criss-cross the perfectly rectangular grassy area in a web to connect one dull concrete and darkened glass block-shaped building to another. Still, the grass is green most of the year, and well-trimmed brightly-shaded flowers and manicured shrubs manage to soften the harsh grey of the architecture. Small groves of trees dot the landscape of the lawn randomly to provide shade and to break up the monotony.
The dome of the student union building can be seen off in the distances behind several buildings and some trees. A sign post points out that the suitcase-like buildings you spy to the north are dormitories. A 'sign' in front of Curtiss advertises on-campus activities.
Contents:
Jeremy
Obvious exits:
Student Union  Dormitory  Campustown  

Its night, around three in the morning and its been fairly quiet. Jeremy has spent a good deal of the day busy, mostly in frustration from having to deal with Natalie's bullish attitude problem. Finally, he gets inspired, something that Roger would be proud of. He did his research, called his lines and pulled the schematics for this frat boy house. Lucky for him, they are all built fairly the same. He hefts the backpack over his shoulder as he stares at the house before him, off to the side and away from any street lights. He is wearing all black sweats and a backwards baseball cap, out of the norm of his typical Gothic ways. The only thing he really has is the trench coat. After walking around and around the house a few times, he spies what he needs, an open window. A fuse is lit, then another, and another, and with a quick lob, he launches the bombs upwards and hopefully through. It should be a bathroom if he remembers right.

Lucky for the kin, the bathroom's window is open. Unluckily, this three in the morning hurling smoke bombs through windows without good daylight, causes most to miss. Only a couple of the lit ones clunk through. One lands in the bathroom's toilet. The other, onto the floor, and immediately starts to smoke up, and stink up, the entire small restroom. House lights that are on are only a couple of the windows upstairs, viewable from outside. From within the house, soon after the kin tosses in the bombs, a dog's barking sounds.

After getting the bombs through, Jeremy starts back around the other end of the house quickly, keeping himself to the darker parts of the shadows, ducking down. He tries to steer clear of any windows as he moves.

The dog barking continues until much of the house lights upstairs turn on. "GODDAMNIT! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" yells one of the occupants, which in turn causes more lights to turn on. Dog barking (quite a yappy one) is quickly shut up as the downstairs window indicates the flicker of lights on. Then... "OH Fuck! UGH! What the hell?"

Having been moving quickly with his head ducked low, Jeremy hopes to have dropped off the jacket as he went, then ducks behind a bush, scooting backwards and through the shadows. He tries to get a good three houses away, pulling his jacket about him tightly.

Cursing and sudden remarks of disgust echo through the house as the front door is opened by a guy in a shirt and shorts. The dog from the inside runs out, yapping again but only with a few calls this time. "Fuckin' A!" the frat boy curses, waving out the smoke. A few others have joined him by now, and they come out of the house only a few feet onto the small front lawn just barely big enough for a grill and some seats. "Jesus! Who the fuck set off a fuckin' stinkbomb in the bathroom!? Ugh, goddamn!" All total, 3 of the occupants have left the house now, standing around outside, some in shirts and a couple with sweats.

The red jacket by the sidewalk bares the golden letters of ABG. Alpha Beta Gamma, a jock fraternity that is known for their wild parties and drunken football players.

"Shut the bathroom door! It'll stink up the whole fuckin' house!" One of the boys dares to venture back in, and the sound of the door being shut indicates such. He comes back out. The boys looks around suspiciously at each other, but each of them know that none of them were awake to set off the bomb. Immediately their eyes go out to the streetside, but apparently the jacket left on the sidewalk is missed over on first inspection. Finally, one other occupant emerges from the house. It's Bach, with a regular tee and sweats on. He's not happy either. "Who's the prankster?" he says with a half-asleep growl, eyeing each of his brothers. Every one of them proceed to staunchly deny their part in such a prank. "We don't fuckin' know," replies the first who'd actually got the worst of the whiffs. "Tigs was barkin' like hell so I shut him up." Speakin' of Tigs, the dog has proceeded down the street, smelling his way along with the occassional snort like it was actually the dog who got the worst of it.

The dog keeps barking and that worries Jeremy as he continues to back up, winding his way as he keeps crouched down. He didn't suspect a dog to be living there. Hmf. He tries to get himself around the corner of the block to where his car is parked. Four houses away.

"Goddamnit," mutters the first boy, breaking off to collect Tigs. The jacket is soon reached, and is picked up. Just as he glances around for the owner of said jacket, the tail-end of Jeremy's trenchcoat is spotted as the kin moves along. "Wh--- HEY! YOU!" That's all the warning the kin gets. The chase is on.

Well, its a good thing he was making his way to the car. Jeremy all out bolts, keeping his head down, shoving his hand into his pocket. He pulls out some poppers, the kind you throw on the ground and they make the loud gunshot noises. Great things to pick up at the candy store for a buck. He launches a handful out to the side as he tries to barrel around the corner, aiming for his unlocked car. He hopes the explosions are enough to scare them for the moment.

Poppers are different from gunshots, but the sudden noise slows the initial chaser with his surprise. The others have picked up the signal, and they too are now on their way down the lawn and flying across the sidewalk at a sprint. "Stop 'im!" yells the first guy, with Tigs yapping along side. The corner is almost within range. A good thing that the guys are wearing sandals, or running along barefoot.
The corner is not far, but still a short ways off. Salvation via motor vehicle is at hand.

Vroom. Jeremy pulls out his keys and presses a button on the car door, hearing the engine rumble, the lights come on as he hits the corner and speeds around it. Click. The door pops open after unlocking, jarred free. He continues to haul ass, trying to scoot into the car so that he can slam it in gear. He has the car pointing away from the street, so all he would have to do is bolt. No rear license plate, not for tonight.

The car comes alive at the touch of a button. Who'd have thought? A good thing that nothing goes horribly wrong, like say, the engine control dying or something of that nature. The door opens. The kin is in. Now to high-tail it out of there. Right as the kin reaches the car and leaps in, the dog comes around the corner. The others, are not far behind, but slower than an unburdened dog.

The door is slammed shut and the car put into gear as Jermey peels off from the street, shooting away from the sidewalk quickly. The black and silver striped car zips off. He continues to keep his head down, glad that he shoved his hair under that hat of his.

So, right as the car is put into gear and peels rubber with a loud 'shreeeeeeee!', the boys reach the corner just in time to see their quarry get away. One of them curses loudly, inaudibly through the sound of squealing tires. All they see is the car getting away.