Escape 042
[Accidental Voice Post]
[The audio crackles on with a rustle of fabric and the faint echo of footsteps on stone as sneakers scuff across a tiled floor, then gradually fade away into silence as the walking slows to a standstill. For a long moment, all is silent, which is a clue to the device's location in itself; there aren't many places in the City this big, this quiet, and this ominous.
Then, at last, Rudy speaks, in a voice that is quite possibly more subdued than anyone has ever heard him use before. For once, all the vaunted superiority and wide vocabulary is absent, which is largely due to the fact that he has no idea he is being recorded. This is not the sort of thing Rudy would ever show the public, after all. He would never be so careless as to let his perfect mask of impassivity crack--if he could help it, that is.]
You came back after Cedar Ridge. Because I didn't show up. You came back and gave yourself up because I was caught.
[There is another pause, another whisper of fabric against microphone.]
Two stupids don't make a smart. You were free and you blew it.
[He pauses again, and doesn't say because of me. But he's thinking it, anyway.
He remembers the last time he came to this Hall. How it had taken him a week of examination to be certain that it was the truth. How he'd checked the portrait every day, tampered with it, covered it, adjusted it--how he'd done everything he could think of to be sure that the disappearance was real. This time, the portrait is here, and he will not touch it. Seeing it is enough. Finding the top bunk empty, the bright yellow pod forgotten, is enough.
They were supposed to escape together.]
Nice to see you've finally learned better, Webster.
["I'm going to do mine just like his," Mike used to say. "I'll go if Mike can come,", he'd stipulated to the clones. How many times had he said, "Suit yourself; I'm going," when Mike had hesitated? But he'd always known that Mike would follow, hadn't he? That was how they did things. Escaping was never an option unless the two of them could go together. Because somehow, some way, it had become more than merely escaping Alcatraz. He didn't want to go home if Mike couldn't go, too.]
Camp Algonkian Island. Founded thirty-one years ago by Elias Warden, Bow Legs the First. Presently under the regime of Bow Legs the Third. Never before, until today, has a Head Counsellor escaped without his Camp Director's permission. Old Elias would be annoyed.
[A brief, fleeting pause.]
Good.
[This pronouncement completed, the scuffing of sneakers resumes a few seconds later, and the rustling increases before the device finally shuts off with a soft click.]
[OOC: Also following Leah's instructions; Mike has disappeared from the City. Ladies and gentlemen, this is how Rudy Miller does distraught.]
[The audio crackles on with a rustle of fabric and the faint echo of footsteps on stone as sneakers scuff across a tiled floor, then gradually fade away into silence as the walking slows to a standstill. For a long moment, all is silent, which is a clue to the device's location in itself; there aren't many places in the City this big, this quiet, and this ominous.
Then, at last, Rudy speaks, in a voice that is quite possibly more subdued than anyone has ever heard him use before. For once, all the vaunted superiority and wide vocabulary is absent, which is largely due to the fact that he has no idea he is being recorded. This is not the sort of thing Rudy would ever show the public, after all. He would never be so careless as to let his perfect mask of impassivity crack--if he could help it, that is.]
You came back after Cedar Ridge. Because I didn't show up. You came back and gave yourself up because I was caught.
[There is another pause, another whisper of fabric against microphone.]
Two stupids don't make a smart. You were free and you blew it.
[He pauses again, and doesn't say because of me. But he's thinking it, anyway.
He remembers the last time he came to this Hall. How it had taken him a week of examination to be certain that it was the truth. How he'd checked the portrait every day, tampered with it, covered it, adjusted it--how he'd done everything he could think of to be sure that the disappearance was real. This time, the portrait is here, and he will not touch it. Seeing it is enough. Finding the top bunk empty, the bright yellow pod forgotten, is enough.
They were supposed to escape together.]
Nice to see you've finally learned better, Webster.
["I'm going to do mine just like his," Mike used to say. "I'll go if Mike can come,", he'd stipulated to the clones. How many times had he said, "Suit yourself; I'm going," when Mike had hesitated? But he'd always known that Mike would follow, hadn't he? That was how they did things. Escaping was never an option unless the two of them could go together. Because somehow, some way, it had become more than merely escaping Alcatraz. He didn't want to go home if Mike couldn't go, too.]
Camp Algonkian Island. Founded thirty-one years ago by Elias Warden, Bow Legs the First. Presently under the regime of Bow Legs the Third. Never before, until today, has a Head Counsellor escaped without his Camp Director's permission. Old Elias would be annoyed.
[A brief, fleeting pause.]
Good.
[This pronouncement completed, the scuffing of sneakers resumes a few seconds later, and the rustling increases before the device finally shuts off with a soft click.]
[OOC: Also following Leah's instructions; Mike has disappeared from the City. Ladies and gentlemen, this is how Rudy Miller does distraught.]