[center][h1][color 33ec06]A Night on the Town[/color][/h1][/center]
[center][color 33ec06] An Autobiography by Marcus Howell [/color][/center]
[center][img]http://i65.tinypic.com/21o8tg4.png[/img][/center]

And so, Marcus found himself wandering around the school proper. The first order of business was the registrar’s office, as the bottom of the sheet said, and he was keen to get there before doing any exploration. He’d joked about it to the girls, but there was a small part of his mind that was worried he’d lose the sheets by accident; he was slightly accident prone, and the last thing he needed was to go chasing a couple papers across the campus.

He looked down at his own paper, keeping Callan’s and Siena’s folded over (peeking would be rude, of course). He didn’t think that his was too unreasonable:

[hider=Requisition Sheet][list]
[*]1 Laptop
[*]1 Cell Phone
[*]Additional Funds to my Account
[*]A Message to Max Howell of the 442nd Air Force Fighter Wing: [color 33ec06]“Still Alive”[/color]
[/list]
(Underneath the last item was a small paragraph: [color 33ec06]“I don’t care how you deliver this; cell phone, phone call, mail, rent a plane and write it in the sky if you have to. Just make sure this message is delivered.”[/color]
[/hider]


It was like writing a letter to Santa in a way: Sending a letter to someone he’d probably never see, hoping with all his heart he got everything he wanted, and inevitably being disappointed when the results finally came around. Nostalgic.

Fortunately, he had also taken one of the maps that the faculty had been kind enough to leave. Finding the registrar’s office wasn’t too difficult, and he only almost fell down the steps while reading the map once. The delivery of the forms was less than exciting, him passing them to the grumpy lady on the other side, and quickly skedaddling away from her scathing gaze. With no more responsibilities, and a free reign on the campus, Marcus set out, a gleam in his eye and a skip in his step.

[hr][center][color=silver]𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /   ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕟 ℂ𝕦𝕝𝕡𝕒𝕖 𝟙   / /   𝟚𝟘𝟝𝟟[/color][/center][hr]

It was a successful night of shopping for Marcus. He had managed to find a general store, and had bought the necessities he needed for the morning. While he appreciated Siena’s offer of a toothbrush, he had an image to upkeep! He wasn’t gonna use some girly pink toothbrush, his was going to be manly; blue, with Spiderman on it.

The rest of his shopping spree was spent on clothing, and that took about as long as regular toiletries did. He wasn’t very picky about his outfits, as long as they were functional. Plain jeans, plain long sleeved shirt. Some of the shirts had funny little blurbs on them, but they were otherwise unremarkable. His shoes got an upgrade; from plain sneakers to some work boots. The same comfort as sneakers, but with a steel toe in it. The way Marcus figured it, a little extra protection, no matter how small, was worth the price.

He was on his way back to his dorm when the alarm sounded.

Marcus stopped in is tracks, bags swaying uncertainly. A significant threat near campus, and he was just coming back from a shopping spree. It wasn’t the best position to be in, and he continued walking to his dorm, still listening to the broadcast and waiting for instructions.

Menagerie. As far as he was a aware, Menagerie was one of the good guys. It'd make sense for their combat assessment to be helped along by a guy that could make DC's beasts. Kill on sight seemed a little harsh for a test, so Marcus was forced to assume it was not, in fact, their scheduled assessment. They were going up against a Precursor, one of the originals, with nothing but a strike force and some new students. Perhaps he'd stay towards the back.

Blue team. His roommates, and three others, one of which happened to be a healer. His confidence was not elevated upon hearing about the limited healing situation, but he was put at ease a little bit when he heard his roommate's names. Two people he already knew, and that he was pretty sure wouldn't leave him to get killed. It occurred to him, however, that he didn't even know their powers; they'd have to figure that out on the ride over.

These were the things that stuck in his mind as he threw his stuff on his bed. They were going out to battle, and he didn’t even have a weapon. Hopefully one would be provided for him, or else there wouldn’t be much he’d be able to do. The only thing left was to wait for someone to ‘escort’ him to the trucks.

[color 33ec06]“Ah, right on time. Let’s get going!”[/color] he said, nearly running into a guard on the way back out his door.