Who: Maryanne and Sean Walker. What: Maryanne is welcoming her brubs to the Island. Where: Meeting at the Stark tower. When: Thursday afternoon. Warnings: Foul language probably. Sean likes to ... swear. Status: Closed.
As he said on the call to Maryanne, he wasn't too far from the Stark tower. He walked through the empty streets and occasionally popped his head through the windows of the stores to see if there was any sign of life. Where the hell was everyone? That question was just the tip of the iceberg of damn questions.
Sean had now started walking with a slight limp. He had taken a gash to his left calf and the blood had seeped through his jeans, but it felt like it was drying so he wasn't still bleeding. It didn't seem as if he had cut anything vital. As he staggered along, he tried to remember how he got the cut. The last thing Sean could remember, before waking up on the floor of one of these streets, was running out of the liquor store. The robbery went bad, probably because it was his first. Sean had seen a shape shifter in the store, it was one of the assistants, and just as he was about to take his form, he was spotted and all hell broke loose. If he wanted to, he could have probably killed the witnesses, but Sean wasn't a killer and so he fled. It must have happened then.
He reached the tower and slumped down against the wall to give his leg a rest. He picked up the radio and spoke into it. "Mary? I'm here." Sean looked up the tower and laughed a little, "Shit, I'm really here."