Casual Destruction. (Open)

[William Fletcher]

Most people would question the idea of a young man wandering through the grounds with a large piece of timber under his arms. However, when said person made little impact on the school as a whole, both as a person and as an entity within the school itself, it was much easier to go unnoticed. The large wedge of pine was something he'd taken from his shop class around twenty minutes ago, having had spoken with his teacher about needing to do some mild repairs in his apartment. The wood would have otherwise gone to waste, and though it wasn't quite procedural, he had always been reasonably quiet in the class. With no qualms from the tutor, he folded his arm around the 2x4 and made a quiet exit from the workshop.

However, William had made a very sudden detour from the path towards the student residences, instead opting to take a casual walk through the parking lot as he took in the late-Spring sunshine. The weather had been unseasonably good as of late, and it put the burly Irishman in a pleasant mood. As such, he had taken a different approach to his direct onslaught on the football team for the day. Instead of making another player miss the rest of the season with 'convenient' injuries, he had decided just to amuse himself.

'A real shame as well, it's a nice wee ride...'

Stopping at the truck, he took it in with a quick, cursatory glance before looking around himself. It was mostly empty, a few people here and there, but most were too far away to do anything even if they wished. With a quick hop onto the trucks front wheel, he stood astride the hood before looking down at the shiny pane of glass in front of him, cocking back the piece of timber like a batsman and bringing it down into the windshield with a huge swing.

The glass stood no chance against it, even the reinforced stuff they used would only bear so much against the force of his swing, and the spider-webs not only quickly spread to the entire windshield, but a gaping hole was left where the initial force of the wood had cleaved straight through, spraying fragmented safety glass all over the upholstery.

Hopping down quickly, he pulled a pocket knife from his coat. A Swiss Army utility knife, completely legal and one of his more useful possessions. He'd never had use for a tool-kit, instead relied on the little red tool to cover him when he needed a screwdriver or a corkscrew, goodness knows why he'd need a corkscrew, but you never knew, of course...

Flicking out the larger of the two blades, folding out a couple of the other attachments to stop his hand sliding across and cutting against the blade if the rubber were to defy his intent, he slammed the point into the first tyre twice, successfully, and leaving it to slowly deflate. Strolling back to the rear tyre, he repeated the motion before folding away the blade and slipping into the lot. The timber would be slid under another random car a short distance into the lot, though it was unlikely that he had remained unseen in his antics.

Admiring his handiwork with a smirk, he made his way towards the other side of the school with his palms loosely set in his pockets, aiming to make his way back toward the dorms. Though it was very likely someone would have seen him, it remained to be seen by all intents whether they would dare approach a guy who had made such short work of the quarterbacks truck.

[August Velway]

The first day of school is always a bitch. A sickly one, at that. Yet, at least August Velway had no need for a uniform this time around.

What's the use for those things anyway?

A rather rugged, angry youth stepped through Hircine High's front doors after hours of worthless "learning," arguing with one teacher and sleeping through the lectures of another. While the new school's atmosphere was certainly different, and even more comfortable, the Aussie found himself frustrated. He constantly heard of these "Varronites," this small elite group of transfers from another school in the East Coast who had, presumably, been the toughest badasses in the United States.

In Velway's state of mind, that made them the little bunch to either become a part of, or even to another extreme, beat the living shit out every one of them. Either that, or just convince the local Pillarship - who were remarkably tougher than those "Prefects" at Hargrove - that he was a significant threat.

After all, it was all just a game, a competition, a race to the finish...

Marching down the front stairs in a bit of a huff, Velway's dark gaze scanned left and right, watching the various students around him converse over various details. Who was dating whom, what homework they had, the latest piece of ass that passed by, the local dimpshit that finally got what he deserved - that sort of thing. Frankly, it was interesting to pick up for about thirteen seconds, but August always found himself itching for something more, something much more like him.

So what else did the man have to do? He made his path towards the local parking lot, where his beautiful motorcycle lay in wait for him. It's sable sheen, the chrome muscle, the powerful engine... it was too much for Velway to ignore. He had to reclaim himself as the rightful master of that almighty beast, the throne that had led him into victory back home.

At last, the bike was near him, and the Aussie quickly jumped onto the leather seating and leaned back a bit, grinning to himself at the thought of tearing through the lot's asphalt like mud in a biking tournament. Revving up the engine's power, Velway's toned arms led the machine past its parking space and into the open drive, holding the brake for a moment as the acceleration burned smoke into the air, before bolting forward at a light speed - unfortunately, the fear of destruction because of some wrecked minivan required the man to ease back for now - and maneuvered past the other Juniors and Seniors looking to head out for the evening.

Yet there were a sparse collection at the edges of the lot, and there was literally no one in sight out near the school's Mechanic's wing. There were few vehicles parked out that far, and even then, August soon found himself making a mental note not to park there himself. Apparently, someone had been practicing their batting arm - Heh, yeah right - on one of the nearby trucks.

Swerving past the ruined behemoth and soon catching sight of a calmly retreat figure just ahead, Velway quickly accelerates further, ignoring the common lot speeds, and finds himself soon drifting past the other man and stopping, tail far behind, the head lights of his Cruiser staring right back at the assumed assailant.

Velway watched the other man for a moment with a smirk, then darted his eyes toward the damaged truck again, smiling at the blown tires. "Nice piece of art you've got there. Tell me, was a crowbar your paint brush? Because that takes quite a bit of work."

[William Fletcher]

His pacing would be interrupted, it seemed, by a bike-rider. The engine was unmistakable to hear, and as it passed him before spinning around suddenly, turning to face him and beam the headlight at him, he raised a palm to block out the light from shining directly into his eyes. He heard him easy enough, but took a few steps to the side and approached him at a side-ways position moreso. More than anything, he wasn't about to stand in the path of that light for much longer, but he also figured he should get a look at the person who had seen through what had happened.

He looked around his age, though he wasn't able to tell exactly from his seated position on the bike he also wagered him to be close to Wills height. Something of a skinnier fellow as well, it would seem, but his quick summation was ended as he repied calmly, his eyes fixing on the bike-rider.

"Crowbars pick up fingerprints easy. Wood's no' quite as bad f'r it. An' thats nothin' anyway, ye should see what c'n be done with a cricket bat."

His arms raised slightly, linking into one another as they folded over his chest. He was still mildly amused at the picture behind them, and though they were far enough away to go unnoticed by anyone unless they were really looking, William was still close enough to see the quarterback come running out of the school and stop, dumbfounded or whatever at the condition of his truck and skirt his eyes around the parking lot. It was a real shame, nobody would find the weapon used for the remodelling until far later in the day, if they even thought to look at it as a weapon.

His eyes returned to the other youth calmly. It was clear both knew what had happened, but William noticed something very quickly. He hadn't transferred in with the Varron students, and his suspicion immediately rose. Posing the question that was immediately needed, he eyed the other youth warily.

"Just where the hell did you come from, anyway...?"

Though a question with more than a single answer, he doubted someone capable of deducing he was the guilty party for the truck would miss his intent in the statement.

[August Velway]

The sudden change in perspective of the stranger's tool brought a smile to the Australian rebel, and a brief laugh was quickly followed by a snide congratulation, "A two by four? Very classy, I like that."

Although, while August felt rather comfortable around the man beside him for the moment, a return glance to the artist brought a frown. "Where'd I come from? I'm from the biggest fuckin' island in the world; what's it to you?"

Suddenly Velway felt a bit of discomfort. This newcomer... he acted defensive, suspicious, but for what reason? Was there something August Velway had done wrong... or right somehow?

[William Fletcher]

"Ah, one o' the Aussie lads...How'd ye get back off the boats we sent yer lot out on....?"

It was, indeed, a direct challenge. However, the other fellow had been very quick to snap back, and Will was, under no circumstance, giving him a inch of room to assume the alpha male position in this discussion. The deeply furrowed brow and tightened muscles that had reacted instinctively to the challenge had began to relax, the reflex being substituted for a hand that flicked the air nonchalantly.

"Forget it, mate. Consider it just a touch of edginess after that little stunt. The owner o' that Jeep's a cunt, but he's also got plenty o' folk who'd jump me for the kicks of it. Take yersel' jus' showing up like ye did, an' I'm sure ye can work out my predicament."

By now, he remained only mildly defensive, his eyes skimming around near to the truck where a few more people had taken the opportunity to glance at the handiwork of the grudge-holding Irishman. It would be mere minutes before the vehicles owner would arrive, and whilst he would relish the opportunity to smack him, the chances were he'd bring along a few other football players considering the situation.

"Listen, if ye wanna talk, I'd suggest we move somewhere else. C'mon."

Whilst he was on foot, he was by no means sluggish as he broke into a jog, making it clear that the Australian could either kick up his bike and follow or stay where he was. The sound of the engine revving was enough, and with a dry smirk he broke into a faster pace for as long as he could before stopping maybe a block away from the school, close to the nearest dormitory buildings.

With a few sharp breaths, getting the wind back in his lungs, he turned as the bike idled to a stop nearby him, rising to his full height again and giving a more curt smile.

"I'm William Fletcher, car wrecker extraordinaire and Hircine native. What about you, Aussie....?"

[August Velway]

The snide remark eased the tension within a few moments, as August smirked a bit at the artisan's joke over Australia's heritage. "What else can you do when you're on a boat you don't like? You jump off and start swimmin' right back to shore!"

When the other man then noted the reasons behind his defensive attitude, August only nodded in understanding. Even if the football player wasn't a threat, Velway did realize that his arrival must have come off as convenient. When the architect of the Jeep's new look then told August to follow him elsewhere, another nod replied, the Junior's left wrist retracting to return power to his motorcycle's engines, slowly treading forward as the jogging figure ahead led their escape, as more students came out as audiences.

The block didn't take long to slug over, and when his counterpart stopped running, August smirked again as he kicked his bike's stand near their chosen destination and leaned against his bike's front as the engine lost its spark. As the other named himself William Fletcher, August simply nodded his head and replied with his own identity, "August Velway, the guy stopping you from wrecking his beloved bike, and some guy from the middle of nowhere. And now I must ask," August added, looking out to the ends of the streets in some modesty, and a bit of thought processing, "Any reason for fucking up that guy's ride, or were you just in the mood?"

[William Fletcher]

Raising his palms up with a mixture of apathy and clear amusement on his face, he paced back a bit and leaned against a wall nearby, lowering his hands a moment later. "All I'm inclined t' say is he had it comin', as does the entire football team here. O' course, usually it's them I go after, but aye, I suppose t'day I was jus' in the mood...."

Adjusting his coat a little after the short run, setting it back comfortably, he felt a twinge in his fingertip and glanced down at the splinter that had worked in from the swings against the glass. Frowning a moment, he raised the digit to his lips, biting down on the edge of the splinter and pulling it out quickly, spitting it away to the side before he spoke again.

"So, d'ye make a habit o' ridin' that thing everywhere, or is it jus' ye're a wee bit too attached t'it?"

The briefly raised eyebrow was accented with a dry, sharp smirk as he folded his arms over his massive chest, a shift of his feet before he began walking again, flicking his head for August to follow suit. Much as talking in an alley was poignant, considering his recent action, he'd be better suited somewhere with seating, somewhere he could get a drink...

"C'mon. My dorms no' far from here, an' I could use the cover 'til later. Ye're welcome t' come along, mate...."

[August Velway]

"Crashing an asshole's prize is always welcome by me, I can tell ya that." August smirked in a bit of a personal laugh as he watched William tug out the shaved splinter from his finger, "Ack, that's gonna sting man."

A moment later, William mentioned August's use of his bike, and with a proud grin, the man shrugged, "What can I say? I love the dirty thing. It's my baby."

Now noticing William's turn toward the sidewalk to stroll off, August let his smirk downsize to a simple positive curve, and kicked his stand back up to lightly tread after his new acquaintance.

"I appreciate that, although I certainly hope you'll be a good host and have a good drink to have. I must admit, slaving over school really brings a thirst out of ya," Turning his head back a moment to watch as the cars sped away from the school parking lot, as students desperately desired to escape the school grounds, "And I think you deserve a good toast to yourself for a good work of art there."

Turning his attention to the Irishman next to him, August felt it was wise to question on something else, "Well then, two things I guess: do you mind if I call ya Will, and why is it you give hell to the local football jocks? Are they total assholes, or are you some kind of rugby fan that loves beating the hell out of other sportsman?"

[William Fletcher]

"Mebbe, it's jus' a wee splinter. Better than havin' it infected..."

Shrugging as he walked, smirking at the affectionate tone August spoke of his bike, he let out a brief laugh at the remark a moment later, nodding though he didn't look over his shoulder.

"Aye, that I do, there's certainly good drinkin' tae be done...That SUV's certainly a new masterpiece..."

Slowing his pace slightly to bring August parallel to him as opposed to walking slightly ahead, he slipped his palms into his pockets as he walked before the question he was expecting, sooner or later, was given to him. "The football players are one o' the Pillars lackeys, a guy called Kurtz. They have a tendency tae stick their nose where they shouldnae a little too often, think that because they're favoured by a Pillar they're safe. Sad tae say, I've been proving 'em wrong f'r a while now."

For a moment he said nothing, the smirk on his face alone, "O' course, as a good rugby fan, I find American football to be a complete sacrilege to a great game..."

[August Velway]

"An insult when compared to Rugby, yes, but it's still bloody fun to play 'round here, and looks good for some trading of the Jackson or the Queen, if you catch my meaning." August slipped out this remark a few moments after William told him of the football players - and his own thoughts on their sport.

In earnest, August wasn't sure what to do about the details on this Pillar Will spoke of. While August was honestly disturbed by the idea of fellow students beating people "below" them to keep order, it was not in his interest to do anything about it. But still, if the school's football players were acting as the cronies of a Pillar that was supposed to be the student body's favorite leader, it was a bit concerning.

And here he was, walking next to someone who terrorized them.

August hid his uncertainty behind a smirk, and looked to his companion for a moment, his calm walk making Velway feel as if he weren't even on his motorcycle. "You have something against these Pillar folk? You some kind of 'freedom fighter' or whatnot? After all, you are Irish."

August was curious over this: while William Fletcher seemed like the type that preferred to stay out of school politics, it may have been that he did, in fact, have some bit of involvement with the resistance against the "System" that August kept hearing about. If that were the case, he wasn't sure what to think.

I'm not really sure if it'd be wise for me to connect myself to that hype; could be bad for me.

[William Fletcher]

"Aye, I guess, but it jus' irks me that these pansies took a decent sport and turned it intae a feckin' ballet. Rugby's aboot power and technique, their fitba's mair like an opportunity for lads tae run fast before bein' tickled tae the groun'..."

It was no secret he had a real dislike for American football, but after his second spiel, he chose to quiet his words. After all, August had a point, there was money to be made in gambling on it over here. Rugby didn't get too many folks gambling at regional level, only the international tournaments seemed to catch the public eye, even back home a lot of the time. Football, no, soccer, was the betting mans game in Ireland. A glance to his side changed his pattern of thought at the change in demeanour August put forward, not so much nerves, but something was amiss in the lad. When he spoke a moment later, he simply shrugged his shoulders, his eyes a touch narrowed at the stereotype between Irish and 'freedom fighter'.

"Naw, surprisingly, my grudge is pretty much jus' wi' Kurtz. He and I just dinnae gel too well, if ye get me drift. As for being a...freedom fighter, as ye put it, nah. The schools politics are no' mah issue. Far's I'm concerned, so long as I don't have tae cross paths wi' it, they c'n dae as they fuckin' well please. Mebbe my actions wi' the players isnae the best one I could make, but it provides an amusement I rarely get elsewhere..."

Considering the walk was hardly a marathon, they would have closed in on the dorm building by now. Walking up to the door with a calm pace, he stopped, turning to August again with his arms folded over his chest. "Yer bike will be safe in the parkin' lot. If ye feel like that drink, come on up, ye'll probably get tae meet Aryn, considerin' she cut a key to the apartment sometime last year. She's a wee bit o' a habit of showin' up out o' the blue."

Smirking, he turned and opened the door, standing in the doorway with his heel holding the large fire-door open as he waited for the Australian to make his choice.

[August Velway]

August nodded to the answer, feeling satisfied with its solid reaction, "I like that, honest and natural. If I had to chance to fuck with some assholes around here, I'd certainly do it myself!"

The thought made August start to like William a sort better, at least as a good contact - and he was offering him a drink, and that was always a plus. While he was still curious about the details on this Pillar "Kurtz," August decided it was better to drop the school politics deal and stick to the generosity of his host.

Kicking the stand of his bike at the closest lot space, August checked its security, then strolled over to August holding the dorm building door for him, "Thanks mate."

Following his companion lead him up to his apartment door, August thought of the 'Aryn' fellow that William spoke of. In his mind, it came out as so many different names in terms of verbal similarities, but the brief detail made Velway picture a slick, intelligent male thief of sorts.

"So, this Aryn a friend of yours? I'd bet it's nice to have someone with those kind of skills around here, if he can cut a key from your lock."