The person was definitely a dude — He wore rags that might have once been wearable sweatpants and a plain shirt, but neither were no longer recognizable as clothing. His torn up shoes were just as ruined as his clothes, with soles so battered and non-existent that he might as well have been walking on his bare feet. His face was just as dirty and grimy as the rest of his body, almost as if he'd been trudging through sewage water for weeks at a time. He was bone thin, as if he hadn't eaten in weeks, more resembling a scarecrow than a person. His eyes were sunken in, as if he hadn't had proper sleep in weeks.
Even so, Austin could notice he was a teenager like himself — maybe it was the guy's posture? — but something in Austin also told him that something wasn't right.
'Be wary,' the Voice in his head warned him. 'Be vigilant. Something's wrong about this one.'
Austin really just wanted to leave, but, considering that that this scarecrow of a person was in his way, he had no choice but to investigate the Voice's warning; both curious of what was wrong with the person, but on guard incase of confrontation, Austin stepped forward towards the stranger, who was currently glaring daggers at Austin, though still standing in the doorway, blocking Austin's exit.
"Um, h-hey, there. You alright man? Do you need help?" he asked, his voice shaky even to his own ears.
The pale, bone-thin boy said nothing. Instead, he just continued to stand there, glaring down at Austin, his gaze only describable as beady, insane and lost. Nervously, Austin tried again.
"Hey, man, y-you know n-no one else is allowed here — It's a restricted area." Austin said, internally cursing himself for saying this.
'Yeah, because survival means nothing to you apparently,' The Voice commented in Austin's head.
'Shut up' Austin responded.
When the guy hadn't moved or responded with an answer other than a sharper glare of the gaze, Austin felt the sudden urge to both run from the guy and help the guy. He didn't know what was wrong with the guy, but the guy had more cuts and scraps and open wounds on his body that were still open and bleeding then scabbed over. Maybe if he brought him to Zether or Cleo, they'd be able to heal him… Whoever he was.
Then, against his better judgement, Austin walked towards the guy at the top of the staircase, whose mouth was definitely frothing at this point. "Do you know who you are? W-what's your name? How'd you—?"
But, as Austin was a step before the boy, he interrupted Austin mid-question, by leaping at Austin, causing both boys to tumble down the stairs.
While tumbling down the concrete stairs, pain erupted through Austin's back, before spreading to the rest of body with every stair hit. It was like getting repetitively pounded in the back and head by a concrete slab. Thankfully, Austin's head didn't take too much damage on the way down, but his gunshot wounds seemed to have reawakened themselves up sometime during the tumble.
Lightheaded and groaning at the pain erupting all over his body, finally on the ground on his back, Austin groggily openned his eyes, his bleary vision not helping his sudden situation. 'What's going on? What's happening?" The sudden sound like a growl brought him back to the present. 'Right. Crazy boy. Stairs. Trouble.' was all he could mentally process before he felt the boy on top of him, his hands grasping tight around Austin's neck; Austin just had enough time to notice the boy's brunette hair and dark, insane eyes before panic and instinct took over. Hands clawing the boy for the need to breathe, Austin needed to get free — He needed to live; he needed to something to free himself — a tool, a weapon, something to get free.
'Look around, Austin,' the Voice said in his head, sounding both serious and sarcastic. 'You're surrounded by weapons and tools, dumbass.'
The horrifying memory of his ambush in his cell the day before gave him a sick feeling at the sight of the guns in the crates, but then the boy's eyes glowed golden and Austin's attention was drawn to them; to get a better glance, making sure he still had a enough oxygen to not hallucinate, Austin blinked repeatedly, before looking again. The boy's eyes was glowing golden.
"This is all on you!" the boy yelled. "What have you done to me!"
Austin wasn't even the slightest bit sure what the boy was talking about, but, at the moment, his alter ego had taken over again, kicking the bo off on-top of him with his free knee, before kicking again, two more times, causing the boy to release Austin completely, grasping his ribcage. Austin clawed the floor before getting to his feet abd running to the nearest crate, and pulling out the first weapon he could find: A pistol.
To his horror, Austin's alterego — The Voice — had the weapon pointed at the boy who was now charging towards Austin, with killing intent. Before his other half could fire, Austin snatch the reins of his body once more, pointing the gun upward before firing, shooting the cement ceiling.
'What are you doing boy!' the Voice yelled.
'No killing!' Austin yelled back.
"Rrrahhh!" the boy screamed, knocking the gun out of Austin's grip, before tackling Austin to the concrete floor, head and back screaming in agony.
But, before the other boy could clasp Austin by the throat again, Austin outstretched his hand across the floor for the gun. Just as the boy clawed his neck in his grasp, Austin gripped the gun by its front and hit the boy in the back of the head twice with the butt of the weapon, freeing Austin time to get from beneath the boy, and, as he rushed to the stairway, Austin could hear the other boy in pursuit, his roaring and growls like animals then any human, and getting louder and louder with every step.