Oh great, now we had to run around on the field *again*. We made ourselves over to the same spot, hoping no one would see that we were back there again.
Nate uncovered the drain, and we both slipped in. Fliss gingerly put it back into place and went off to hopefully keep the Coach distracted by performing terribly.
I felt the dust poof out and hit the walls. I coughed. "Yuck." We looked at the huge pile of cassettes, and I dusted off the top one. "Nate just put it in."
Nate jammed his hand on the computer button. It came to life, a password screen came up.
"Is the camera still here?"
Nate was looking at the video camera gathering dust in the corner. Nate clicked it apprehensively. It turned on. It looked like it had stopped automatically at some point. "Okay, let's see what it has."
He clicked on the footage and stopped at particular spots. We watched as the cleaners turned on the computer. "We can see a bit." Nate groaned.
The keys P, O, L V, R and 8 and 4 were clearly pressed, or hopefully their whereabouts.
"Pooplover1984 I knew it." I said.
Nate looked shocked.
We settle down the camera and go back to the player. Nate wiped off some of the dust anf pressed a button. He slammed it a couple of times to unjam the entrance, and slowly pushed it in. We jumped around as it whirred. He typed, apprehensively, and I watched intensely.
"PoopLover1984".
Nate apprehensively typed in the words.
"Alright...now what?"
"Get the camera, and take pictures all of this."
Nate cycled through as many files as possible, and took low light snaps of the maps and documents. I clapped him on the back.I meditate on the picture of generic man, his face fading into nothing. Suddenly, we heard a clunking sound from above. Nate's eyes widened. A shoe began on the first step of the ladder."You left it open" says a gruff voice above.Nate grabbed a crate, and threw it at the man's leg. The leg retracted. He yowled. "What the fuck."
It began coming down again. "We have a gun!" Nate screamed.
"Who the fuck is down there?!" screamed the janitor. I began looking around to see if there was some escape route, and there I saw it, behind the dusty cloud, and buildings of equipment, a long drain passage filled with shit.
"Nate...holy crap."
We heard Coach Mustaffa was now on the alert, and he was shouting something, and his footsteps came closer to the drain. Soon the security would be after them.I took the camera and started going further to the shit, slodging through it, gagging. No way. No way. These people would fucking pay. My shoes were getting filled with gunk, and I was making sure not to keel over. I had to drag my feet. What seems like a mile away, a patch of light appears, and I squint up at it. This has to be God or something. Holy crap. Nates face is streaked with tears as he pushes me forward. "We have to keep going." We're gasping as we finally see Fliss looking down at it, and I can't help put give her the middle finger. "HOW FUCKING DARE YOU." I scream. Nate almost plonks into the poop in exhaustion. He says he'll go up first, then lift me up.
I jump, and feel the sploook as the poop tries to suction me. He droops over and grabs me, Fliss standing gingerly on his legs, and levers me up. We hastily clamber on to the muddy patches on the other end of the field. I don't care anymore.
"Sorry, but I couldn't get them to go." The middle finger was still in full armour. Fliss whined. It was over and I was steely.
Bleary eyed I see security crowding around the drain on the other side of the field, probably surprised that their low tech shitty backup was discovered.
