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There was only so long that Nate could be content with taking fire from some VC gooks, or sardonically whispering 'Fuck you Gee-Eye!' through the microphone with a heavily laid on faux-Vietnamese accent. He'd got most of his study out of the way earlier in the day and he figured he had nothing better to do - why not get involved with the locals? Each year students from Grand Ridge held some big party somewhere around Farmer's Hill and invited everyone to show up - and if he was going to get to know folks and get used to the place it would have been a dumbass move not to be in attendance. This time it was down at some old lumber mill a little ways out of town, within [i]walking distance[/i].

Nate didn't waste much time getting things together, given it was still a walk - he grabbed a quick shower to freshen up, then after toweling himself down he threw on a set of dark-grey cargo pants and a silver t-shirt he'd left discarded on his bed. It was dark out and getting cooler now, with it being September, so he grabbed his hoodie off the back of his office chair for good measure and slipped that on too. Then it was his phone, keys and some spare cash that he tucked away each in one of the front compartments of his pants.

On his way out, he made a detour to the fridge and peered inside - Aunt Viv hadn't had a chance to fetch more groceries yet and was out for the night so it wasn't particularly packed, though Nate made a point to help himself a cooked chicken drumstick from a Tupperware container and stripped it to the bone, satisfying his hunger for the time being. Once that was done, he 

Nate was ready to let himself out when he heard a noise coming from the lounge, a faint glow emanating from around the corner.

"You're back?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he peered around the corner and caught a larger figure sprawled on the couch.

"You didn't hear me knock the chair over on my way in?" Quent asked, before he was shrugged off by Nate, tapping behind his ear. "Headphones."

"Ah, crap," he grimaced, before letting a chuckle briefly slip, "Don't tell Viv, she gets on my case for not being careful with the furniture."

A wry grin lined Nate's face for a moment, "What's it worth?"

"Oh, right, that's the game, huh?" Quent's face crinkled for a moment, before he shot back a sly retort of his own, "Who do you think she's gonna believe? A distinguished career man," he wafted a hand over himself, "Or..." he jabbed a finger towards Nate. 

He put his hands up, then exclaimed, "Police brutality!" 

"Hah! Benefits of being a public servant."

"Sure, whatever - going for a walk and stuff, I'll see you later. Don't arrest me."

"Not on duty tonight, so don't get into trouble or I can't bail you out," Quent said, in a tone that was laying it on thick.

"Yeah sure," Nate waved him off, dismissively, "I'll send you the ransom note when the Canuck Moose Mafia come for my organs."

"It better not be set too high or I'll have to find a new nephew," he could make out a faint grin from the man in the dim glow of the TV, "Deputies don't make that high a wage."

"Guess we'll find out tomorrow morning!" Nate called back, waving him off and heading towards the door to let himself out.

"Yup," he heard the man's voice grunt back, one last time before the door closed behind him and Nate set off.

[i]Uncle[/i] Quentin was no biological relative of Nate's at all, in fact he wouldn't have even passed for a blood relative if the two were stood together because of one obvious factor - whilst Nate had the pale skin complexion of someone who'd spent their life in Washington state, Quent on the other hand was black, with an accent that suggested he'd grown up in Los Angeles. Oh, and he was a beat cop - or, had been one back when he had lived in LA, though after his marriage to Vivian he'd retired from that, then taken up a local sheriff's department. It was a safer life, at least - you didn't get much in the way of drug busts or gangbangers around Farmer's Hill and Viv was grateful for that 

All in all, he was a man that Nate had got to know pretty quick - for a cop, Quent wasn't exactly a hardass, though Nate knew by the collection in his gun cabinet and a few stories about his LAPD days that beneath the laid back demeanour and faux bickering between them was a man who could [i]really[/i] fuck up your day if he wanted to. But as far as Uncles went? Nate was glad to have him.

As he quietly paced down the dimly lit street, Nate figured that reaching this lumber mill wouldn't be too much bullshit. He was no runner, no sprinter - but he could walk a hell of a lot and being out in Farmer's Hill had given him time to get used to it and even like it. Some of the local shortcuts came into his use as he ducked between houses, streets and (sluggishly) climbed over low fences to make it a shorter journey. If wasn't long before he hit the dark, the collection of buildings thinning out as he approached the outskirts of Farmer's Hill, keeping to the side of the road in case some douchebag got a little close for comfort at 60MPH.

Eventually the distant pulse of noise coming from the forest in the distance became a legible series of sounds that he figured was techno music reaching through the treeline, so he left the road and crossed onto the grass, then through the woods, tsking care not to trip on any particular low hanging branches or swollen roots. It was near pitch-black, the kind of place that would've, [i]still[/i] freaked him out, but this was the only way to get to the lumber mill.

 "Shit," he swore, after one branch of clipped him at the top of his hood, tugging it halfway down. Rustling in the woods caught within earshot and he glanced over his shoulder, wondering if it was something... only to yet again curse as it turned out to be just another would-be party-goer in the distance stumbling through the woods, already half-way to heaven.

That frustration soon melted away as he hit the clearing, then briefly turned to a momentary awe as he saw the silhouette of the mountain looming over. Seeing it at night, this time of night, no artificial lighting, was different to observing it in daylight - it almost reminded him of the monolithic behemoths that marked the skyline in his home state of Washington, except unlike Bellevue or Tacoma there was no great cityscape to challenge that imposition. Throw on top of that all this stuff about people disappearing?

[i]No wonder this place spooked some of the locals.[/i] Nate felt spooked just by looking at it.

A change of tune in the music blaring from the lumber mill drew his attention back to his destination and by this point he was close enough that he could make out dim lights on the other side of the fence, it was just the matter of getting past - easier said than done. Fortunately, it seemed like quite a few people had already trailblazed their way through and it wasn't long before he found an unlocked gate with tire tracks running through. 

As an educated guess, he figured Quent wouldn't have approved of this, but fuck it - he wouldn't find out and it wasn't like [i]he[/i] was running this thing.

Following the tire tracks, he soon found the place, along with a mass of people already hanging around outside, many with drinks in hand and dancing to rhythmic pulses that swept over him as he closed in, dirt and fallen leaves crunching under his shoes. Music blared from within and the way Nate figured, as much as some people were having fun out here, the [i]real[/i] party was probably inside, but there was one problem:

At the entrance was some tall, imposing guy keeping watch of the door - Hagan or something? [i]Yeah, fuck that.[/i] Odds were that he was only letting in those he knew or deemed worthwhile, so as for Nate? [i]Fuck that,[/i] he thought again. What he'd seen of the guy was a macho asshole who couldn't lighten up. Besides, there was already a crowd building around the entrance that included a couple of other vaguely familiar faces, like Chris Pope (another asshole, though of a different caliber), or the other guy and girl stood nearby.

Instead, Nate took a detour around the another side of the decrepit building, looking for another entrance inside - there [i]was[/i] another door that led inside, but a closer inspection revealed a rusted latch and padlock stood in his way. For a moment, though, he did a double take and pressed his weight against the door to see if there was any leeway. A little bit of movement at the upper and lower halves - so at least he knew there wasn't anything  blocking it from the other side. 

If he just worked the latch with his multitool... [i]shit[/i].

Nate had managed to loosen two of the screws on the latch, but the other two were so rusted that they eroded away the moment he tried to twist the flat of the head against them. Grumbling, he tried prying at it with his fingers to see if it would come off and found a gap form between the door and the latch where he'd taken the screws off, but it still refused to budge. Maybe a little brute force was in order? He shoved the multitool back into his pocket and set off, looking for a rock or something blunt and heavy that could be used to smash the latch off.

Mid-search, Nate noticed a short, dark-skinned girl stood at the foot of a ladder, engaging in conversation with some other girl leaning out of an open window, then caught some tall guy on a walking stick approaching to engage in conversation. Of those three? The guy was the only one who he could've pinned down as having seen before and only that because of the walking stick. Was the girl telling them to fuck off, or something? Probably not, but how these kind of things played out it was the first thing that crossed his mind. Who knew, maybe they had a way in.

"I can see that roofer's scholarship is [i]really[/i] paying for itself," he remarked, with a low snort.