sneerkite

The misty light of day found Steerpike, humiliated, aching, and miserable, in the middle of Washington, DC. As he stared up at the capital building, a slow smile began to grow on his face.

He had been foolish to think he should go after Fandom. It was nothing more than a tiny, insignificant island. He remembered his lessons from Mr. Lyman's class.

This was where the real power was.

He carefully dusted off and straightened his suit and went to see if anyone would be willing a random, extraordinarily obsequious kid an internship or position in the mail room. He could always work his way up.

[ooc: Steerpike is now gone forever! Thank you soooooo soooooo much to everyone who participated in his exit plot. You all were fantastic and I quite simply could not have done this without you!]

So far, everything Steerpike had done had been a grand success. He was riding high on his own evilness. Which might explain why he, dressed in those damned blacks, was breaking into Mac's room with a grocery bag full of raw cuts of beef.

Let's see, raw t-bone under her pillow. Bits of ground sirloin in her desk drawers. Meat, meat, everywhere, and it would probably start to smell.

That accomplished, he slipped back outside and went to go change clothes again. He was starting to run late for work, after all.

[ooc: establishy. Room modded with permission. NFB. Yay!]

Breaking and entering was beginning to become a habit. But it had worked so smoothly the first time. . . .

Steerpike skulked the halls of the school, once again wearing all black. He picked the teacher's office at random, made quick work of the lock, and slipped inside.

And trashed the place.

Really, it was the simple things in life that really made things worth it.

[ooc: second verse . . . Phale's office and things modded with permission. NFB, please. *laughs evilly*]

The best way to create chaos, Steerpike felt, was to attack at random. Which is how he found himself, dressed head to toe in varying shades of black, his face covered even over the mask, outside the door to room 512. He didn't even know the girls who lived there, beyond occasionally seeing them in classes and in the hallways.

Which would make him less of a suspect, if nothing else.

He made quick work of the lock (he'd been doing lots of studying all semester, just not for any of his classes) and slipped inside, looking for an appropriate target.

When he spotted Evie's notes, a slow smile spread across his face beneath the coverings. Perfect.

Some of the notes he simply rearranged. Some of them he blacked out random words, some he crumpled up and tossed into the wastebasket. And some he tucked into his black jacket. He half wished he had a bottle of soda or something to dump on them, but he hadn't exactly planned for this. Satisfied that the notes would now be almost completely useless, he slipped back out of the room, locking the door again behind him, and hurried off to change out of his blacks.

This week would be fun.

[ooc: Establishy, though the residents of the room are welcome to use this post for their reactions. Room and notes modded with permission. Not for broadcast, please!

There's still time to get signed up or randomly messed with by Steerpike, if you would like, as well, just let me know.]

Steerpike was looking over his plans, making sure that it looked like everything was in order and trying to work out a good day for him to put them into action.

Soon, that was all he knew. Very, very soon.

[ooc: for them what knows who they are, NFB, please!]

Good day. You've reached Steerpike. Not Sneerkite, Stealdike, or Mealsnipe. I'm terribly sorry that I'm not available to take your call at this time, but I assure you, should you choose to leave a message, I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you.