Like Dust in the Wind [Open]

[thenameissam.livejournal.com]

Down in the city, there is a building. It is massive. It's architecture makes it clear that it is a police precinct, taken from some strange world that the crew had likely never heard of before. It's not a pretty building, built for functionality and not for beauty. It's purpose is clear to any who see it. Inside it are rooms upon rooms, including rows of cells. Some are strange, utilizing intensely powerful force-fields to keep highly powerful detainees contained. Others are more familiar to many of the crew. They resemble the average steel bars and concrete cells that have graced many a television show or movie. All of them are empty.

And therein lies the problem. One of these cells, one of the plain, bland, bars and concrete cells had an occupant at one time. News of his arrest, apprehension and hunger-strike had swept through the crew like wild fire. Deemed a threat to himself, his fellow crewmates, and the Yeerk he'd plotted to kill, it had been decided that Sam Winchester would remain detained in the precinct until the conclusion of the Yeerk trial. The trial was not yet over...but Sam was gone.

There were few clues to the how. The cell door hung open, looking like he'd just walked out of his volition. Like he'd been free to do so all along. Who had helped him was likely to be a short list...perhaps... Why he'd escaped was obvious. What he planned on doing was equally obvious. The more important questions were: Where was he now? The ship is big. But hiding anywhere where someone could merely ask Stacy for Sam's location would be stupid. So that left the city...which was also big. There were hundreds of places to hide in the Vatican alone.

And, lastly, when would he--and whoever had helped him--make his move?

The trial was not yet over. The jury had not yet come back with a verdict. But Sam Winchester was free. Likely hiding out until the verdict was revealed, waiting to take matters into his own hands if it came back as anything but 'death.' And, from the looks of things, he may not be alone....

[OOC: If you wanna have your character discover that Sam is gone and react and such, please do so. You can tag back and forth with your characters reacting and such. I will be posting later a subthread of Sam with the person(s) who helped him escape. If you would like to have one of your characters be one of those people, gimme a poke at my e-mail or on AIM (it's on the Contact List).]

Comments

[inthetimebefore.livejournal.com]

"I never miss a thing," the strange man in the hooded cloak says. He gestures a dismissal. "But don't think this means I like you, mister Winchester." He still hasn't given his own name: any such lines of questioning have been smoothly deflected, leaving only a slightly greasy-slick feeling.

[daaayum.livejournal.com]

"Allen's gonna kill me for all this," says Leela, disheartened. She's a warrior. She can do cunning, but she's forthright most of all, more action than plotting.

She's a warrior, not an assassin.

But sometimes you have to do what you have to, to keep people safe.

[thenameissam.livejournal.com]

Sam glanced over at the man in the cloak, his brow furrowing quizzically at the strange man. Who he was, Sam had no idea since he didn't recognize him from any of the crew members he'd met thus far. Which left only one real possibility--considering Leela didn't seem to have any visible concerns about the guy: he had to be a new arrival. "Yeah, I wouldn't dream of it," Sam answered him before turning his attention to Leela.

"Well, look at the bright side. At least you'll know it's really Allen trying to kill you and not some brain-slug that crawled into his head."