Thread: Brittany relives the fun of her last summer vacation, Santana goes exploring Who Brittany and Santana When Wednesday 12 Oct, afternoon [backdated] Where The Lima underground What Santana’s hunting a stray Brittany. Will she find her? Will Brittany be okay? Will Santana (finally) figure out her power? We may never know…
A note: Please excuse the completely inaccurate descriptions of storm drains/sewers/waterways/whatever it is this is.
Santana hit the parking lot at a run. She broke at least a few road rules driving back to Lima Heights, and performed what was quite probably the worst park ever. The elevator was out, still, but she kept her pace up as she took the stairs to the top floor. Coach S’s intensive lunatic cardio training program was useful for something at least. Her Cheerios skirt met the floor, and the top half followed quickly. What did someone wear on a venture into the sewers? Old, old jeans, and a shirt that somebody’d left behind from her rooftop party a while back. She turned on her computer and went into her mom’s room while it took an eternity to start up.
“Ah-ha!” Gumboots. Rainboots. Whatever. Big rubber boots that went up to her knees, from her mom’s brief fly-fishing phase. Perfect.
The computer on, she googled Lima sewers. Useless. But how did someone get down there, short of flushing themselves down the crapper or sliding down a stormwater drain? Did a town like Lima even have those man-hole covers? Maybe not, but with a little google-fu, using way more time than she wanted, she found the place where the underground waterways drained out into a much bigger catchment. Bingo.
Santana gathered up her supplies – boots, torch, phone, rope, towel – and tied her hair back, tucking it under a ball cap. Nobody would ever recognize her in this mad-woman get up. Good. Back to her car, back on the road, following the hastily-printed map that took her out in the direction of the quarry. She found what she was looking for not too far out of town. Of course the stormwater drains filtered out into the nothingness just beyond Lima Heights. It was where all the loveliest stuff happened. It was quiet; no other cars around, so it really didn’t matter that her parking hadn’t improved since the last time.
Up ahead – three huge concrete cylinders, water gushing out into the catchment below. They were blocked off with thick vertical iron bars. Carefully, and clumsy in her rubber boots, Santana climbed closer. It’d be a tight fit, but she didn’t live on Mastercleanse for nothing. She could totally slip through the gap in the bars.
The inside looked familiar. She’d seen the same rounded walls and smelt the same musty, nauseating smell only an hour ago. This was it. This was where Brittany had to be.
Wishing she’d brought a peg or something to clip over her nose, Santana shouldered her backpack again and started walking.