Young Writers Society

Despite knowing that they knew he was there, Sean stayed quiet. He clung to the small possibility that they were calling out to someone else, rather than him. He slowly lowered himself into a crouching position and reached behind his back to get his knife.

"I wonder if they're nice,"

When there was no response, Oz was prepared to utter the words to a spell. But he wanted to wait before attacking - it was impossible to tell if the person around the corner was silent because they were scared or because they were a foe. He didn't want to make enemies unless he absolutely had to.

"We're not going to harm you," he carefully said, taking slow and loud steps towards the other person. "We just want to talk - we ended up here with no idea of how we even got here in the first place."

She stops as she hears the breathing, the heartbeat, her reddish gaze surveying the shadows to identify where it's coming from. Her fingers touch her daggers. She's unsure of whether the newcomer will be a threat or not, and she doesn't like to take chances, especially when she's wounded.

Sean coughed
"How do I know you speak the truth?" he asked, his voice scratchy and raw, as if he'd been shouting for a while. He calmed his breathing to a point where it was relatively normal, and he assumed a defensive fighting stance. Never know if they'd try to pull something. And if they pull a gun out it's best to be ready to dive and tackle, if it happens.

"You don't, but unless you want someone else to come and get you your best option is to take your chances. Safety in numbers, kid," she says with the utmost nonchalance.

"For all I know this could be another one of your tricks."
He took a deep breath. He then coughed again, twice. Nobody knew what the inside of the Coron building looked like. Nobody outside the upper echelon of Corcorp, anyway. As far as he was concerned, the infiltration attempt was successful.

Deciding that a bullet or knife wound wouldn't hurt too much, Oz decided to cut to the chase and walk around the corner. He found himself looking at an unfamiliar man. That wasn't too surprising, as he hadn't recognized the sound of his voice. "I'm not sure who you're talking about, but I'm telling the truth - I got whacked with a pipe and then ended up here. That doesn't make sense with wherever you're from, right?"

Sean narrowed his eyes underneath the strands of blue hair that obscured his face. He stood up straight and relaxed.
"You could have been knocked out, brought here and then woke up, you know," he said nonchalantly. His voice was scratchy, and all he wanted was a bit of water to drink at that moment.

He shrugged. "Maybe so, but injuries don't usually knock me out for that long. I'm Oz, by the way! It's short for Oswald, but I absolutely despise my first name and never use it."

"My name's Sean, which I don't despise." Sean said, giving Oz a glance over. He tried to pick out spots that might be able to conceal weapons, but he resigned himself to let his reflexes deal with it.
"So, who was the other voice I heard?"

"That would be me," the woman answers, stepping around the corner. "Viper."

Sean looked over Viper as well. He noticed she was holding her side.
"Do you...are you hurt?" he gestured to where her hand was.

"I've had worse," she answers flippantly.

"Oookay then," he said, relaxing slightly. He stretched an arm above his head. They didn't look like they'd attack him...yet. If they did, he'd bother about it then.
"I suppose we stick together then? Safety in numbers and all that?"