Piss off!

[Logan Travis Mitchell]

Travis sat in the back of the police car, his headphones played hip hop loudly in his ears trying to ignore the other passengers who he was stuck in the car with. They just pissed him off without even trying. Mrs. Borquist, his current social worker sat in the passenger seat. Travis was pretty sure she was scared of him, and he had no problem with that. He just wished the bitch would leave him alone. The two police officers who had been assigned to take him to St. Helena's hated him, and probably thought they had not been paid enough to deal with him. Whatever. He didn't like them either, or any authority figures for that matter. He didn't need or want them. Travis learned long ago how to survive on his own.

Stupid judge who decided to send him to this fucking place. Like he could really be helped or saved. In the dictionary he was sure a picture of him would be by the definition of 'lost cause.' The sooner everyone learned that, the happier they would all be. Besides, Travis did not think he had a problem. He had an apartment, money to pay for his shit, girls to have sex with. His basic needs were met. It was the laws problem for not staying the fuck out of his business. They had a problem with how he earned his money, he didn't. What was wrong with beating the shit out of someone? Both parties were consenting to the fight, and it paid well, when he won anyway.

Finally, they reached their destination. Not that he planned on staying for any length of time. He would bolt as soon as he could. One cop walked around and opened his door. Travis scowled at him as he got out. His eyes scanned the area, waiting for the right second. And it came. The cop turned his attention to Mrs. Borquist getting stuff out of the trunk, and he ran. Both cops took off after him. He knew they were furious with him. Travis had punched one of them last night when his zip ties had been removed so he could eat. Given him a nice bloody nose, maybe even broke it, would have done more too if he'd been able too.

His body was slammed into the ground, and he swore. His tightly zip-tyed in front of him pushed painfully into the cement. It hurt, but he was more pissed by how useless his hands were, than the pain he was in. Travis had, had far worse. His earbuds had fallen out of his ears, and he hoped they hadn't damaged his iPod. Both officers pulled him to his feet, glaring at him. He smirked, knowing it would just further push their buttons. Holding him tightly, they propelled him toward the building. It would not be the last time he tried. Mrs. Borquist followed with his things. There was not much. He'd flat out refused to tell her where his apartment was, no matter how many times she'd asked. Eventually, she had let him call a friend, who brought a bag to her. And she'd shown up with a school bag full of stuff. Like he would need it. Travis had not attended school in awhile, and he was not going to start now.

Mrs. Borquist moved ahead of them, glancing at a piece of paper in her hands, and at the names on the doors. She'd told him the name of his counselor, which he did not remember, because he did not care. She stopped, took a deep breath, probably to calm her frazzled nerves because he was such a pain to deal with, he thought as he rolled his eyes. He heard the sound of her hand knocking on the door, and waited. Welcome to hell.

OUTFIT

Timeline: Wednesday, August 15th , 2:00PM

[Salizar Slone Snighrig]

[atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 450px; background: url(http://i1081.photobucket.com/albums/j348/SimiXiamara/TemplateStuff/green-texture2.jpg); border: 4px double #939393, bTable] she says we've got to hold on to what we've got cause it doesn't make a difference if we make it or not we've got each other and that's a lot for love - we'll give it a shot

[atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; background-color: #000000; border: 2px solid #939393; color: ffffff; padding: 10px; opacity: 0.5]There was a lot to do being the school's one and only doctor. He found that the school had quite a higher need for medical staff than they had, but he also understood why not many doctors wanted to work here. It was why he'd transferred here from the hospital. He knew they needed a residential doctor here with as many accidents and close calls as they had. Salizar practically lived at the school, very rarely going back to the large manor that was technically his home. there was even a cot in the office in the infirmary where he more often than not was caught sleeping. Today was even busier because today a new student was coming in. He'd been given the files on the male yesterday, and had been going through them ever since. Anger management issues. He was known to be a jock, but also a bit of a loner... these parts of the student's personality let Salizar know how best to approach him. He'd even been given police reports as to what he had been through. He hadn't been registered in school for a while, he would likely be behind on some subjects that seniors would usually have little problem with. Given his problems, this likely would not be a good thing, though placing him in lower-level classes would hardly have any better of an effect, as if they were doubting the boy. Underestimating him. He was staring at the class schedule for the boy when he heard the light tapping on the door. He looked to the door, then to his clock before he sighed. About the time the boy was to be arriving. As was customary, he needed to set eyes on the boy. Even if he hadn't been his counselor, Salizar needed to take note of the boy's condition when he entered into the school. A physical examination was just standard proceedure. Of course, when he rose and opened the door, he wasn't expected to be greeted with a bloody nose. "Oh, man. What happened?" he asked, stepping aside so that the boy and his 'escort' could enter into the infirmary. He moved after the boy, paying little heed to the police or his social worker. He paused in front of the boy. "Can you look at me, son?" he asked, watching him carefully. Always best not to touch them right off. "I need to get a look at that..." he stated softly. "My name is Doctor Salizar Snighrig. I'm your advisor and counselor here at St. Helena's," he offered. Of course, when one of the policemen piped up that the boy had tried to run, Salizar shook his head slightly. "Can you blame him? Forcibly brought here by the police? Taken from the only home and life he's ever known? Cut his hands loose," he ordered of the cop. "Those are going to cause abrasions on his wrists which will also need to be treated properly." Honestly, how could people treat these kids like they were animals or common criminals? They were teenagers who had made some mistakes or had treatable diseases. It wasn't their fault.

[atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word-spacing: 1px; text-align: center; background-color: #000000; border: 2px solid #939393; color: ; padding: 10px; opacity: 0.5]TAGGED: travis || WORD: 542 || OUTFIT: clicky template by emrysdaelan @ caution 2.0 keep the credit or angry badgers will nom your face off!

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[Logan Travis Mitchell]

Travis looked at the man, sizing him up when the door opened. Saying nothing when the guy asked what happened. It was a fucking bloody nose, not a broken bone. He'd had much worse. It's what happened when slammed into the hard ass ground. Police brutality, that's what happened, he thought to himself. But, he wasn't going to waste his breath and say that out loud. No one would believe him, they never did. Everything was always his fault.

Glaring at the man, his eyes were cold. ”I'm not your son!” he retorted. He wasn't anyone's son, he thought bitterly. Biologically, yeah, but not any other way. It was something he tried to pretend did not bother him, but it was always a sore spot for him Travis could remember in school when he was younger, and everyone was forced to make cards on Mother's Day and Father's day. Only he had no one to give them too. It was like a slap in the face. Everyone wanted to be wanted, loved, but not everyone was so lucky. It's nothing. I'm fine,” he said dismissively, irritation clear in his voice. He could take care of it himself, like he always did. Travis hated being treated like a child. ”Good for you Doc, I don't give a shit. I'd rather be in juvie than this place,” he stated matter-of-factly.

He listens at the conversation between the Doc and the cops. How else was he supposed to get here? He sure as hell would not have come willingly. The next sentence caught him off guard though, and he actually laughed a little. Clearly, he hadn't read Travis' file. A home was something he'd never had, so what was there to miss? And his life was always changing, it didn't bother him. ”Man, I don't know what bullshit they told you, but let's get some things clear. You know nothing about me, so don't try to act like you know shit. And I sure as hell don't need you to defend me to these two asshole cops.” he said and then glanced down at his hands. They were scraped up, and yeah, the zip-ties hurt, but he didn't need someone to defend him. Release his hands, he'd defend himself just fine.

The cops looked between each other, and then one cut the ties. If this Doctor wanted Logan's hands released, he could take responsibility for the kid, as far as they were concerned. They had done their job, and got him to the school. With that, they turned and walked out. Travis glanced over, good riddance to them all he thought, as his social worker handed the man a form to sign. He didn't doubt she was glad to be rid of him, just like he knew the cops were. Rubbing his wrists slightly, his eyes moved around the room, looking for anything that could help him escape. As his social worker left, offering no words to him, his eyes fell back on the counselor/ doctor guy. Now they were alone, and one guy was much easier to take than three. The Doc would wish he'd left Travis' hands tied, he thought smugly. Travis stood, ready and on edge, waiting to see what the Doc would do next.

[Salizar Slone Snighrig]

[atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 450px; background: url(http://i1081.photobucket.com/albums/j348/SimiXiamara/TemplateStuff/green-texture2.jpg); border: 4px double #939393, bTable] she says we've got to hold on to what we've got cause it doesn't make a difference if we make it or not we've got each other and that's a lot for love - we'll give it a shot

[atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; background-color: #000000; border: 2px solid #939393; color: ffffff; padding: 10px; opacity: 0.5]Salizar watched the male carefully, allowing the boy to size him up. There were plenty of people who underestimated him, this boy would likely be one of them. "I know you're not... but it doesn't mean you should be treated any differently. My philosophy is to treat the students here as I would treat my own children. I try my very best to help you and your fellow students to the very best of my ability." Most of these kids had just been served a raw deal. It wasn't their fault that they had these sicknesses or had to take certain measures to survive in a cruel world. He sighed as the other stated that he was fine. "Generally when there is blood pouring from an oriface in your body, its not a good thing," he stated casually, though reached out taking a clean white cloth and offering it to the other male. "It doesn't look broken, so I suppose if you do not want my help, then you can deal with it yourself," he said softly, watching him. "A lot of students here would rather be in juvie. But this is better for you. It gives you a chance to get an education and to rejoin society without a blemish on your record. Without a bad reputation that could hinder you later in life." Like when trying to get a job or a place to live. Nearly everyone did background checks nowadays, and it could ruin the lives of some of the students here if they'd been sent to juvie. He sighed though as the boy became arguemenative about him defending him to the police. He turned his gaze to the boy as the ties were cut and then signed the social worker's paper before watching them leave. He turned back to the other male. "You can look around all you want, you won't find any weapons in here, nor would you be able to get out of any of the windows... they have bars on them," he stated softly, watching the male. "As your counselor, basing on the knowledge that you have attempted to flee the premises already, you're restricted to the school grounds. When you have proven you are not a flight risk, you can earn the priveledge of going into town." He paused, watching the other male for a moment. "There are fences all around the school grounds, and forests beyond that, a gated entrance, and security guards posted around the grounds." He picked up a folder with a few papers in it and lay it down on the table beside the other male. "There are your class schedules, dorm room assignments, and counselling sessions. Upon your exit from here, one of the security guards will check your possession for items that are banned from school grounds, a list of those items also found in that folder of yours and a list of the consequences for the offenses. Do you have any questions for me before I show you around?"

[atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word-spacing: 1px; text-align: center; background-color: #000000; border: 2px solid #939393; color: ; padding: 10px; opacity: 0.5]TAGGED: travis || WORD: 530 || OUTFIT: clicky template by emrysdaelan @ caution 2.0 keep the credit or angry badgers will nom your face off!

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[Logan Travis Mitchell]

He looked at the cloth for a minute, then up to Salizar. ”Who the fuck actually says orifice? That's so stupid.” he said grabbing the cloth out of the doc's hand, brought it up to his face, and wiped his nose. Travis winced slightly at the contact, before he continued speaking.”What would you do if it was? Tie me down so you could look at it?” he asked sarcastically and rolled his eyes. He poked at his nose gingerly for a minute. Travis scoffed, and said, ”I don't need your help. Or any ones. There's nothin' wrong with me.” Sure, he'd been arrested... more than once. But, normal people got arrested all the time. Didn't mean he needed to be shipped off to some lame ass school.

Just because the doc said there was nothing he could use, didn't mean he would not continue to look. But, as the doc continued to speak Travis' eyes snapped to him, getting even more cold and hostile. So, no fence was going to stop him. It wouldn't be the first time he'd climbed a fence. That was the best they had? A fence and guards. Did the guards carry guns?He guessed he'd find that out the hard way. He stepped closer to Salizar, tossing the cloth onto the table as he moved. ”Is that supposed to scare me into compliance?” he asked raising a bow.”Who the fuck died and made you God?” He paused ever so slightly, but did not wait for an answer. ”'Cuz you're gonna have to do a helluva lot better than that, Doc Privilege my ass!” Twisting some, he grabbed the folder, but he did not open it. He tipped the folder, letting the papers fall out and float to the ground before he dropped it as well. While he did that, he looked at Salizar, a tiny smirk playing on his lips, waiting for the other man's reaction. “Nice try. I don't do school. I don't do homework. And there's no way in hell I'm going to a counseling session.” he said, his voice rising in volume as he spoke.

”No, no questions, Doc.” he stated simply. And he would not be needing that tour either, but he did not say that. ”'Cuz I'm not staying!” he said contumaciously. He turned and began walking toward the door. ”You've read my file, Doc, I don't suggest trying to stop me,” he threatened. No one told him what to do. Not his social worker, not foster families, and not this doctor. He'd been on his own for a long time, and liked his freedom. It was not something he would give up without a fight.

[Salizar Slone Snighrig]

[atrb=cellSpacing,10,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 450px; background: url(http://i1081.photobucket.com/albums/j348/SimiXiamara/TemplateStuff/green-texture2.jpg); border: 4px double #939393, bTable] she says we've got to hold on to what we've got cause it doesn't make a difference if we make it or not we've got each other and that's a lot for love - we'll give it a shot

[atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; background-color: #000000; border: 2px solid #939393; color: ffffff; padding: 10px; opacity: 0.5]Salizar shrugged slightly when the other male asked who actually said oriface. "It is a politically correct term, and it takes less time to say than listing every single one of them on the human body," he stated easily, watching the other male carefully. The male was quite hostile and for no real reason other than the fact that he was not happy to be here. Most students weren't happy to be there, but most of the students also were not quite so volatile. Perhaps there was more to Logan than met the eye. He'd have to go over the other's file more thoroughly though, when he had some free time. He sighed as the other asked what he'd do if his nose had been broken. "Probably something rather similar to that. Broken cartilage healing wrong could splinter and stab into the brain. Which could either kill you or do other irrepairable damage to your nerves or motor coordination," he said simply, watching the other male carefully. "I never said there was something wrong with you, Logan. You just need a place where people are better equipt to work with you." Someplace where he wouldn't be kicked out for some of the offenses that would have him suspended in a normal school. No one could get suspended from St. Helena's. There was no suspension. There was isolation or there was prison. Salizar could almost see the wheels in Logan's mind turning as his eyes darted around the room. He made sure to keep nothing that could be used as a weapon in the actual infirmary that was not under lock and key. Especially when a new student was coming in who had the kind of record that Logan did. He shook his head when the boy asked if it was supposed to scare him into compliance. "Of course not. I'm simply making you aware that... it would be quite difficult to run. And if you did and were caught, you'd just be brought back..." he said softly. "And there are more defenses than you would think, Logan." He tilted his head when the other stated that he wasn't God. "I never claimed to be God. I'm just... the one responsible for you. Rather like a case worker, I suppose," he stated simply, watching the other male. "Except I have a much closer contact with my students. I don't like restricting students to the grounds, or to the buildings, only allowed outside if they have a staff member escort them from building to building. But I will if it is necessary." He didn't like putting people in isolation either, yet it was something he had done previously because it was required for the safety of the students. He watched then as the other turned and picked up the folder, spilling the contents to the floor without regard or purpose. He sighed softly, this was going to be a difficult one. "There's no need to shout, Mr. Mitchell. Unfortunately, you have little choice in the matter. You were brought to St. Helena's so that you weren't taken to Juvenile detention. A few months here or a year there? Where you are restricted to the building. One building. One courtyard for an hour or so a day. Here... you have all the freedoms of a boarding school. You can go into town, go out to eat or see a movie, go to parties, play sports... and then you graduate and you're free to do as you wish once more. That wouldn't happen otherwise." But then the other was turning and heading to the door, stating that Salizar shouldn't try stopping him. He sighed, reaching into a drawer quickly and moving after Logan once he'd picked something up. Grabbing his arm quickly, Zar twisted the male down and placed a knee on his back to keep him down. His free hand moved to grab the other's arm which his other leg moved up to pin and his free hand grabbed the remaining hand. The other hand was holding a syringe. He raised his hand, pulling the cap from the needle with his teeth before the needle was pushed into the other's arm and the clear fluid injected into the skin there. "I'm sorry, Mr. Mitchell... but you left me no choice..." He hated having to tranq students, but he didn't want to cause any harm to either the student or himself, and this was simply safest. But he knew the boy would likely not be pleased when he woke up... which was why he would restrain the boy to a bed once he was out...

[atrb=style, font-family: Tahoma; word-spacing: 1px; text-align: center; background-color: #000000; border: 2px solid #939393; color: ; padding: 10px; opacity: 0.5]TAGGED: travis || WORD: 809 || OUTFIT: clicky template by emrysdaelan @ caution 2.0 keep the credit or angry badgers will nom your face off!

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[Logan Travis Mitchell]

Travis frowned looking at Salizar. Could the man really do that to him, could the school? He had meant the comment sarcastically, not literally. He didn't think hospitals could force him to have medical treatment like that, though he wasn't completely sure. Travis avoided hospitals as much as he possibly could, it was far to easy to get caught in them. If he got injured badly enough, he or usually his 'manager' really, found someone to take care of him. Travis wasn't even sure if they had medical licenses. He didn't ask. And furthermore, why the hell would this guy even care? Travis meant nothing to him. He didn't mean anything to anyone, and he was fine with that.

His eyes glared coldly at the Doc. One thing that was bound to piss him off was calling him by his official name. He hated it, and as soon as he could legally change it, he would. As far as he was concerned, Logan was not his name, Travis was. Though Travis did not think about the fact that logically, Logan is what the Doctor would assume to call him by, the name that was all over his official paperwork. He clenched his jaw as well as his fists. Logan was a name given to him by a social worker who didn't give a shit about him. Names were supposed to mean something. Parents picked names they liked, names that had meaning, or family history. Travis is what he'd named himself. He didn't know the meaning behind the name, didn't care, but he liked it, and it was something no one could take away from him.

What the fuck was there to work on? He didn't need to work on anything. Didn't need people who could deal with him, something he'd heard many times over the years. He took care of himself, provided for himself. Travis didn't rely on anyone for anything. Didn't like getting close to people. Truthfully, wasn't very good at getting close to people, relating to them, but didn't see it as a problem. It was the way he lived. Independent. . I'm not going to work with you on anything, 'cuz there's nothing I need to work on,” he stated coldly.

Travis didn't care what defenses the school had. He refused to believe he'd be stuck in this fucking place for any length of time. He'd find a way out, he always did. ”DON'T CALL ME LOGAN!” he screamed at Salizar, unable to hold in his anger any more. He hated that name! Everything about the man was really starting to piss Travis off!

He listened to what the doc said about having more freedom at the school than juvie. Not that Travis would know what a typical boarding school was like, or any school for that matter. But, he knew he did not appreciate being lied too. Being told he'd be able to go to parties, play a sport. Not that he did team sports. Fighting, boxing, was not a team sport. He didn't trust others to have his back. But, regardless of what the sport was, he would have enjoyed participating in, he doubted he'd be able to play. Like anyone with his record would be allowed too. It was all talk. And Lies. Nothing more.

When the doc grabbed him, Travis had been expecting it, and had tried to fight back, to get free. When his body hit the ground, Travis let out a soft grunt. Even after the older man had him pinned on the ground he struggled to get up. As he felt something prick his arm, he said, ”Let me go!” ignoring the Doc's apology, he didn't mean it. Travis did not know what he'd been given, but felt himself getting weaker, tired. He struggled for a bit longer, ”Leee....meee..” he struggled to get out, he words slurring. Seconds after that, his breathing evened out, his body relaxed, and his eyes closed, as he drifted off into unconsciousness unable to fight the drugs any longer.