September 2012.
Blackwell Campus.
Sure, Other-Chloe had said to jump back and visit Frank to get some answers. Chloe, in her usual manner, had decided otherwise. Going after Nathan seemed to be a far more useful strategy, as it was his actions that had seen Chloe end up in this seemingly endless cycle of jumping about timelines and then being torn into by some fucked-up version of herself. It was this which had inspired Chloe to pay him a visit. She glanced out from the truck, seeing the last streaks of sunlight disappearing behind the horizon over the bay. Chloe never used to like creeping about the dark, especially around this place, but now she was far more at peace when doing it. She could almost say she enjoyed sneaking about. Especially when it meant paying the local asshole rich-kid an unexpected visit at one in the morning.
The main school building looked just as unwelcoming as it had when Chloe got herself expelled, still all the same outdated and old looks to it, the central tower still as imposing as ever. It was like an overlord, a slave-driver, standing over the Bay. The wings of the Academy extended, cowering away from it as though they were its shoulders. The ragged old banner still hung, barely attached at both ends, across the main doorway. Go Bigfoots! Chloe shuddered, recalling one conversation in particular that she'd had with Frank before setting foot on Blackhell, despite having been expelled the same day. She couldn't shake how many different things seemed to link into one another: the banner, its slogan being Frank's reply when Chloe had asked about Drew's debt before she'd gone to collect said debt; encountering Damon for the first time. And Damon. His actions, what he did to Rachel a day or two later-
Rachel. Yet again, another sequence of events that links directly to Rachel. Chloe shook her head again, trying to focus on her aims again: Get into the dorms, find Nathan's room- or Nathan, or if she was (un)lucky, both at once- oh. And avoid step-SWAT at the same time. Chloe paused as she reached the wall by the never-used bike shelter, peeking round the corner. One thing that was useful in having David as her step-douche, and that he just happened to keep detailed records of which guards would patrol where, was that she knew roughly when to be on her toes.
Nope. Mr. Guard has gone elsewhere, good. Once she was happy that nobody was going to catch her out, she quietly jogged across the ten yards or so, coming to the open iron gate that led into the courtyard for the dorms. She came to an abrupt halt, cursing. The drunken ramblings of one Principal Wells rang out from inside the courtyard. Fuck. Of all the people who I could have to deal with, it has to be him. Dammit.
A clattering of a body against the wooden boards, followed by groans and cursing. Chloe risked a glimpse around the corner, knowing that despite being drunk enough to not know how to balance, Wells still had eyes that would put your average telescope to shame. She should know, having been busted on one occasion for having something-or-other in her pockets. She couldn't remember what exactly it was, but it can't have been poking above the lip of the pocket by more than a finger's space. Yet he had somehow spotted it. From across the other side of the front yard of the damn Academy. Wells was lying on his back, cursing profusely and muttering under his breath. something about the Prescotts and that new teacher Jefferson. Chloe took another high risk. Keeping as low as she could, she bolted for the bush on the crest opposite the porch of Wells' residence on-campus. She dived onto her stomach as the foliage got between her and Wells who, a moment later, jolted up as he tried to discern, loudly: "who the hell's out there? Show yourself, or I'm getting the cops down here!"
Chloe grimaced, as she felt a tingling of electricity jolt through her. Throwing herself to the ground maybe wasn't her best plan. Still, with any amount of luck, she'd have just enough time to do what she needed to and get away from campus. If not... well, the Chloe that would take this body back would have a shit-ton of explaining to do to whoever caught her. As Wells staggered toward the gate, still attempting in vain to track the mystery visitor, she hopped up as quietly as she could from her hiding place, before following the line of the mound towards the totem in the back corner, standing vigil over the grounds. The lamp post illuminated the small park-like grounds in an eerie dull yellow, casting shadows on every object. Wells had settled down once again, with yet more language to get thrown out of Sunday Service with.
Chloe made it into the shadow of the arch above the front door to the dorms, and tried the handle. Unlike her previous visit, all that time ago, the handle gave in with a slight metallic grinding and a click, as the door swung inward on its hinges. Chloe flicked herself through the door, sealing it behind her as one still-inebriated Wells rounded the corner. The general state of the dorms hadn't changed whatsoever: paper still littered the floor, even in the stairwell; graffiti still covered every inch of any poster or official notice signs.
As it turns out, I'm not the only one who likes tagging things. Or sticking two fingers up to the establishment.Chloe smirked as this note-to-self crossed her mind. The hallway lights, as always, had been switched off at this hour in a vain attempt to encourage adherence to the curfew. The amount of noise in some areas proved the exact opposite to be going on. Chloe glanced at the dorm sign, annotated again by a mass of ink, squinting through the near-darkness that was the male dorm floors. After a good few moments, her eyes caught the quarry in question.
111- Nathan Prescott. Gotcha now, asshole. With that, Chloe slipped across the hallway to room 111. As a note of caution, she kept one ear out. Given the amount of cans of beer and glass bottles strewn everywhere, it probably wouldn't be best to bump into any of the guys up here right now. 111 was open, its door ajar. Chloe gripped the edge of the door, edging it open fraction by fraction. A feeling of dread and apprehension was forming inside her, like some form of storm, or a hurricane.
What if he's in here? What if he's sat, waiting for me? What if...Chloe tapped her head abruptly against the doorframe. Knock it off. You're in this deep already. Might as well finish what you started, dumbass.With that, she gave the door a firm shove. It swung open, to reveal a darkened room. One with no Prescott in sight.
"Heh. Thought so." Chloe muttered under her breath, relieved. Now, the fun began. First to be rifled through was a pile of papers on his desk. Chloe grimaced at some of what she came across. Sketches of all kinds of wierd shit, something that looked like a public hanging, a torture room, a dismembered body...
"Damn, Nathan, you need help." Next, a medical letter. Shrink's department. A letter from Nathan's shrink to Nathan, regarding his mental state. Chloe was taken aback at this trinket of extra information. Ho-ly-shit. He really needs help. The letter was the last paper in the stack, so Chloe replaced then as best she could, moving onto his PC. It, thankfully, was unlocked. Easy pickings. Chloe stopped as she went to type, feeling another pulse of electricity through her. Her fingers and hands twitched somewhat, but she fought back against it. Fuck. Off. I'm not done just yet. Is another ten minutes too much to ask?
She slammed her hands on the edge of the desk, the electrical buzzing receding suddenly. Chloe started searching Nathan's files, a little faster than she'd been working before. Getting her other self caught in his room, red-handed, probably wouldn't help her stay alive. As the files loaded up, she froze, her face paling. The papers she'd just gone through had nothing on his computer files. She promptly closed the tabs. O...kay then. Let's try something else. How about... Nathan's emails were almost equally disturbing and concerning to read. Chloe had been dumbstruck by how the system seemed to be failing him. Five emails in, and the true source of Nathan's being so fucked up became apparent. It was an email from his father, Sean. The email, on the surface, seemed to be of encouragement. Chloe knew better than to trust a Prescott's word at face value, as she continued to read half a fucking essay that was this one email. The more she read, the more she somehow felt for Nathan. Sure, he was a complete asswipe for the most part. But having a father who knew his son was seriously screwballed in the head, and threatening to "make sure he never saw light of day again" if he opened up to anyone about it... That was fucked up on a whole new level.
Chloe's ears pricked up, as she heard movement out in the corridor. Shuffling, almost, of a set of feet. Headed right for Room 111. Shit. She had maybe ten seconds to figure out how the fuck to solve this one. Jump out the window? No way, not with Buzzard Bastard Wells still lingering around. Hide in the closet? Nope, Chloe didn't even wanna think about what was in there, given what was on his computer. Chloe huffed under her breath. Behind the door it is, let's hope it works. Chloe slipped into the gap between the door and the wall and held her breath. She could smell the alcohol and hair gel and whatever drugs Nathan had been on, like an aurora, a hella reek to try not to notice when she was trying her best to breathe quietly. It was like a damn drug store- or, likelier, the contents of Frank's mobile drugstore- had exploded in his pocket. And all over him. He was mumbling something too, it wasn't exactly clear what either. Something about Jefferson, some kind of 'damn photography project'. Then, something came out of his mouth that coincided with at least one of the emails or files she'd found. The Dark Room. Now, what in fucking hell was that? Chloe was prepared to bet it was something to do with photography, she'd heard it referenced. But who could she ask that would likely... Of course. Had Chloe not been in this situation right here and now, she'd be laughing her ass off that once again, the girl she'd despised for abandoning her, the same girl she was doing this for, would have some kinda idea as to what the hell this meant. That internal laughing stopped quickly when she heard the soft, predator-like footsteps of someone approaching the other side of the door.
Nathan slumped onto his couch, exhausted after all the fucking effort of manhandling someone who was totally out of it. A side effect of GHB that was both useful and a pain in the ass for him. Just as he considered getting up and checking his inbox for the email he knew his new-found mentor- friend, even- was due to send, he stopped. Something caught Nathan's eye: one of the photos he'd taken earlier today. It had been on the desk, with all his various letters, demands, complaints from Arcadia Bay fucking Medical Services, where he'd put it before going out to do the night's work. Now, it was on the floor. By the door. Someone had been in. As quietly as he could, he stood up, and grabbed the nearest object he could, a half-empty bottle of some booze or other. Carefully, he moved towards the door, and extended a hand towards the handle facing him. In one slick(ish) move, he grabbed the handle and yanked the door toward him. The next second-and-a-half passed in a blur. A bright blue blur, at that. Chloe Price. What-the-fuck was she doing in here? He swung the bottle as hard as he could toward her, hitting her in the side of the ribs. She cried out, before returning with a left hook driving straight into the side of his face. The force of the punch was something else, there were jocks that couldn't hit that hard. Yet it seemed to hurt her equally. He saw her cry out silently, clutching her fist, before bolting out of the still-open door and disappearing.
Chloe staggered down the hall, barely able to fight off the almost constant surges through her spirit belonging this body wanted it back, like, now. But she had to get back outside, or at least as far the fuck away from Nathan as possible. Punching him wasn't a good idea. At. All. She had some new information though, and it had damn well been worth the risk -and this agony- to get it. As she burst through the fire exit at the far end of the dorm block, away from Wells the Hawk and the majority of Blackhell's guards, everything snapped to a brilliant white.