Americore

Gotham City: Shadow of the Bat

You ever watch the static on a TV screen that almost has the correct signal? Fizzing pictures in and out trying to give the viewer the best it can while staying on the chosen station. Klineman's mind emulated that. Sounds of tape being stretched out and torn from it's original roll. Accompanied with his own hectic breathing to give his mind almost too much to process in his current state. His eyelids began to rise and fall as his body began to reset his system of sorts.

"...so many years...Freak!...family..." words would echo over miles to reach the good Doctor's ears. He caught snippets of the scene his life currently played out in this horrific moment. The rising and falling of his head let him see some behind the scene footage of what was occurring. Somehow he had moved from his recliner to one of his desk chairs. Wait not somehow, this man was doing this!

"If you want money," struggling to catch his breath as the bonds that held his arms to the chair and stomach to the back seat gave him little room to breath, "Their is a safe in the..." One last piece of tape spread over his mouth silencing him for the moment.

Chance had stayed bent over in front of him, blood red eyes locked with the doctor's through his mask, hands practically grafted to the forearm's of Klineman. "I will never want, beg, nor need your blood money you psychopath!"

That was rich coming from the stranger that bound me to this spot. Tears began to well up behind the mask and stream down Chance's face. "Dr. Klineman saves another child from death's grasp! Dr. Klineman aids in the successful rehabilitation of a child! Dr. Klineman and a kid this! Dr. Klinman and a kid that!" Chance reached into his pocket, spun out a butterfly knife and plunged it deep into the Doctor's leg. "In this life we have so many 'Chances' to fix things. Everyone should have the ability to reconcile for their actions! Not you Klineman you sick fuck! Not you."

An orchestra of muffled screams attempted to drown Chance's words out as Klineman writhed in pain. The masked demon would stand upon his soap box again, "It all makes so much more sense now! The city couldn't be covered in people like me? Not everyone gets to be so lucky like me do they? To survive your 'Miracle' drug!"

This was the answer to the plot twist. The man standing before Dr. Klineman was that Lucas kid. Their only success. Thoughts were beginning to get harder to string together. He had never been stabbed before so the sensation was not only alarming to his being but caused a rush of adrenaline that terrified him. With a swift tear, the tape was removed from the Doctor's mouth. "How many died?! Tens, hundreds?! How fucking many sins do you have to repent for?!"

Klineman would join this lunatic in shedding tears. "I don't remember man! I don't fucking remember! It was so long ago and Ahhhhhhh!" A scream was let out again as Chance removed the knife and plunged it into the other leg.

"Liar! I bet you remember ever last one of them! Why would you choose to be so generous now huh?! Why would you choose to try and show such a good face to society from a past that reeks of deceit and torture?! Because of you," ripping the knife out of his leg as an exclamation point, "I had no family anymore! Adjusting to a life of not knowing up from down! I was 15 you bastard! Praying on the downtrodden and poor because they have no where else to turn...I swear to god you will know ever ounce of..."

Knock, Knock, Knock "Hun, why is the door jammed? Can you let me in please? Hunny, are you watching one of your cop dramas again?! You better not be watching the new episode without me!"

Time was up, the wife was home. Shit, she can't come now? Why now?! Chance would think as he slapped another strip of clean tape onto the Doctor's mouth. "We can't all get what we want can we? I can't get my answers, however," the gun met with the center of the wretched Demon's cold heart, "I can find some solace in this." Not one, not two, but fifteen thunderous rounds from his 5-7 would ring out in the apartment. Every one of the shots came with a stronger trigger squeeze to follow.

Glass could be heard crashing the hallways as Klineman's wife dropped a floral arrangement onto the ground. "Oh my god! Baby! What is going on?! Baby answer me?!" she began to bang on her neighbor's doors screaming for help from anyone willing to give it.

Chance had to go.

Shoving the rolling desk chair to the side he launched out the fire escape and made his way to the street below. Tripping every few steps while his body continued to push blood through at the speed of light. Every passing person's eyes were on him as he dropped to the alley way. Or so Chance's mind would have him believe.

How could someone live with that bastard? He must have lied. He must have never shared his work history with her. Oh this feels good, no, this feels fucking great! I need to go though, I need to go now!

Making his way to the sidewalk he tried his best to integrate with the crowd passing by. Ripping the mask off his face and shoving it into his dark grey satchel. Hope no one saw that, I need to get somewhere to collect myself and fast.

The Silent Shield: A Wizarding World (HP) Auror Roleplay

Izaiah Perntide - "When multiple Alpha's attempt to lead the pack, one of two things occur: You will get two wolves challenging each other in the utmost best manner to enhance the pack, or blood will be shed on that day." Iz knows how to push my damn buttons that is for sure. Isn't hard for me to respect the lad though. Just because you want to best a fool doesn't mean you can't give him props. Always has to bring up Quidditch at school though doesn't he? "Ohhh your team only one the Cup when you were off the team! Oh thissss, oh thatttt." Smug bastard. Still, the boy helps me get better even if I will never utter a word to him.

Mandy Ellison - "A warm soul can ease an icey heart at any point they see fit." The girl knows her Charms that is for damn sure. I will be damned if she isn't charming to boot. Hell, if it wasn't for her too, I probably would have flunked a number of written tests in Auror training. Always feel welcomed at her table...even if he had to sit next to Iz. He wasn't a dunce, they flowed together like a river in it's bed. Both could interchange roles if necessary but they seemed to enhance each other's game if need be. This helped keep my fire lit on striving to be better then both. Hey, friends can be rivals too right?

Keira Summers - "In the case that an alpha loses it's site, a well determined pack mate can set the focus back straight and whip away any doubt of the mission ahead." Keira was a smart, young woman. Hell, the girl was more than just smart in my eyes. If a reserved backbone laid in anyone's body it was Kei's. I remember several times in their Defense against the Dark arts course together that she legit stood up and let another classmate know they were wrong. Just flat out told the bastard! It was fantastic! You have to keep friends like that close in these times in order to get the job done right I feel.

Demetria Raquelle Graves - "Her eyes would light a fire in his soul it rivaled the flames of the Phoenix on the horizon" Roxy is a fire cracker that is for damn sure. I remember the first time we actually met. Wait...no yes, I do remember. It was damn Quidditch! The first match back in year one. A beater on the Gryffindor team that caught my eye. Her tenacity rivaled my own at the time, and I hated it. She was good, damn good and I wanted to best her performance at any chance I got. Most of the time they spent together was on the Quidditch pitch for years to come. Once Auror school came about she actually approached me for tutoring of Protective Enchantments. Why me, well I mean obviously it was because of my efforts to learn as much as I could on the subject. However, this would help me out because I was god awful with transfiguration still. Oh well, that is the past now. As the present shows we are dating now. Auror training really helped us out in getting to know one another better. Yea, better enough in fact that she knows every way under the damn sun on how to piss me off! Little vixen. Non the less, it is why I am learning to adore the girl. We shall see where this goes.

@Ezekiel @Zenia Lemme know if this look alright. Any additions for everyone are more than welcome. We can fledge out our relations more as seen fit by you all. Just give me a holler

Gotham City: Shadow of the Bat

The day's clock was ticking down at the speed of molasses on a cold day. Every noise became very apparent to the two occupying the car at the time as they waited for Chance. Trash being rummaged through by a person down on their luck, crackle's and pops from a hobo fire sitting at the edge of an alley way, Trent wasn't liking how long it was taking.

"If we don't get that squirrelly bastard out here soon we are gonna start having people get curious about the car." Head bobbing back and forth from window to window to make sure he wasn't missing anyone approaching the car. "Easy killer. I am sure Chance will be back shortly..."

"Drive!"

The door slammed behind him while whipping the bag of drugs to the back seat. "Have a bit of a hangup or something back there?" Lisa would try to ask before getting cut off with another demanding "Drive!" Move now and ask questions later she guessed. Popping the old, rattling, Lincoln sedan into drive she slammed the gas pedal and they were off. Chance was stiff, tense, the veins popping out of his neck became even more visible once his mask was whipped to the ground. All his friends could do was watch him in pain.

"What the fuck happened back there man?!" Trent's mind began to race. Mothefucking cops were there weren't they? Damnit, they might be following us! No, maybe other thugs were there? Two faces guys perhaps? I am just weaving together some nonsense right now. No answer would come. His only response was a determined hand being thrust into his pocket in search for something. Maybe a pill to pop to cool his nerves.

A paper. A fucking paper was unfolded and Chance began to scan it. All of his focus was set on these names and phone numbers it would seem. It was an old employee directory that was fairly easy for him to find on his way out "Give me something, anything, something!" trembling in undeniable rage as he stretched the paper out with an audible pop!. "This is my bitch right here!"

At this point Lisa and Trent just stayed silent. With a train of thought set and them in high speed to return home they just let him decompress. Well, so they hoped their silence would help him out on this intense drive home.

Screeching to a halt as they made it back to their home near Port Adams. Chance busted into the house and went straight for the computer. A rush of wind and clicks were heard as the old piece of junk turned on. Creaking doors were heard behind him as the other two goons brought the bag of meds straight down to the basement door to begin organizing them for distribution.

Come on, come on, give me something google. That sadist's name was what? Dr. Richard L. Klineman. Alright, let's go.

Ideally, a hospital will populate with his name and I can search for his home from there. Wait? You have got to be fucking kidding me! Fists slamming into the table as the words came across the screen. "Dr. Klineman at it again with another fundraiser for his Pediatric care practice! This mother fucker!" Chance's eyes picked the story apart piece by piece. The blinders were up and the world fell silent to him. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart as it supplied his rage with the energy it needed to flourish.

"Gotham Gazette you are the voice of the people I tell ya." These words fell in sync with the bottom of the article where information on the good doctor's home sat. More than likely left for anyone wanting to send donations, aid, or for all he knew thank you notes from people who weren't aware of this demon's past.

Upper East Side

"Yes hun I know...yes dinner will be ready by the time you get...I know babe I burned it last time but that's...yes hun...alright hun I will see you when you get home then...I love..." the phone went silent as she hung up on him. Klineman let out a long sigh of grief as the water began to spill over onto the stove from the scalding hot pot. "Shit! Why tonight?! Why!?" whipping the drawer open to grab some pot holders, he tried to get the pot off the stove as quick as he could. Didn't go so smooth for the Doctor as the water burned the ever living hell out of his hand. With a scream he got the pot moved.

Klineman chucked the pieces of cloth to the ground and flexed his hand. Trudging over to his favorite recliner he leaned back and tried to breath easy. Stories would wiz by the TV screen from the same old stories of Gotham. Police chase this, robbery that, potential murder victim over here, drug ring broken up over there, maybe we need to finally get out of this town. It seems to always be oozing with degenerates on every corner. His hand trailed under the coffee table so he could fish out a Motor Trend Magazine. At least mechanics didn't have some crazy mind you had to figure out. Problems can normally be traced back from bracket to brace and boom, the issue could be pinpointed. Cars wouldn't tell him that he was a shallow shell of what he once was. Trucks wouldn't sputter under the exhaust that he was a piss poor lover. Ah fuck it, Klineman needed a drink.

Laphroaig quarter cask, now that was a solid choice. That smokey flavor would do his mind right by taking him back to the few times his wife and him would go camping when they first started dating. Sitting around the fire, staring at the stars fly by, you could say they were living life in the easy lane.

The damn TV would have other plans for him. Poking in dark subtext to his memories with him hearing clips of news stories. "This TV could do for a break for a bit don't ya think?" he would say to himself as he reached for the remote.

"Nah Doc, I haven't watched this story yet. Let it roll just a bit fucking longer"

Klineman froze. When one speaks to the wind he doesn't exactly expect a response. Especially from a male voice in a home that he only shared with is wife. A final shimmer emanating from that fire long past would lay in his mind. It would be snuffed out by a blunt, fierce, pain exploding from his temple created by the butt stock of a pistol.

The Silent Shield: A Wizarding World (HP) Auror Roleplay

Name: Dexter Montague
Age: 21
Lineage: The Montague Family, son of Graham Montague. Half-Blood
School/house: Hogwarts/Hufflepuff
Patronus: Manx Cat

Personality: Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is a quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow." Yea, yea Dad I got it. A montra that would have to be repeated to Dex almost on a daily basis growing up. To be bold was to be courageous to him. Why would I stay silent when I knew I was right? I witness a random person call someone else a mudblood, naturally you are supposed to get in their face and "correct" them. I know, it has gotten me in trouble in the past but so what? If I don't act then I have a higher chance of regretting my choices then not acting at all. Laced with this confidence in action it was supplemented with his clown like personality. "If I can't beat them heads up, then I might as well try and knock their mind off kilter with a humorous comment or two." Not one for losing, not one for letting someone get away with a terrible act that didn't align with his morals, Dex would skirt the line of a positive morality. However, his love of competition would always play the devil's advocate in his mind. To slow down might do him good every now and again. That is, if the bastard ever listened to his own advice.

Bio: Graham Montague was a star Slytherin chaser. Brutal, cunning, and always searching to be one step ahead of his opponents. This was the reign that Dexter picked up upon attending Hogwarts. The test of time would do it's work on Dexter's father. Cool, collected, and worried about the traits that once belonged to him that he witnessed in his son. Would Dexter heed his father's advice? Of course not! Why would he? Knowing his father's track record back in school he only had one goal; to beat his father's records anyway he could.

From day one of being sorted into Hufflepuff, which was a shocker to anyone that knew Dex, all he did was search for the next step on this school's stairway to dominance. Year 1 he was recruited to play beater for Huffelpuff's team. Everyone saw this as the typical place that Dex would reside. Although, it was for reasons that weren't apparent to his peers. Sure, Dex had an in your face nature, always wanting to bring his athletic being to the next level, but he had other goals in mind here. "If I can take the Beater spot, then I can be damn sure that everyone else on my team are well protected because I trust myself to take the beating necessary to win."

Was it true distrust for others? Not in the slightest. He just had utter confidence in his own life. Too much confidence in the eyes of his instructors. Teacher's would chit chat amongst themselves on Dexter's academics over the years. Being called things such as "Thick skulled" and "Class clown" would define him to the T. With this being said, his academia obviously suffered early on. That wouldn't sit well with Dexter, oh no it wouldn't.

Upon his second year he did the unthinkable. Dexter dropped from the upcoming Quidditch season. One of the best beaters they had witnessed in years dropping out of no where? His other classmates were obviously furious with him. Their words fell upon deaf ears though. Focus was set, eyes glued to the future, he would not be known as a failure. It wasn't hard to explain to his friends that what would be the point of him staying on the team if his grades caused him to no longer be apart of the school at all? Did he want to say screw it and play with his teammates? You bet your ass he did! Mature minds would reign supreme on that day however. This was the defining thought of his second year at school.

This abrupt move in his life actually lead him to a new passion that would rival that of athletics. The side subject of Protective enchantments taught in classes such as Charms and Defense against the dark arts really fit his fancy. Being able to cast an enchantment that kept himself, or others, out of sight seemed like a pretty useful thing down the road. So he took to the subject matter like a fish to water. Running wild with it over his final years at Hogwarts.

A proud graduate of the Wizarding school, and gaining a few years of maturity while he was at it really made his father smile that day. Dexter was proud sure, but as per usual he was on to the next stepping stone. With Protection at the forefront of his mind all he could think about was going the route of all great protectors. That path had a sign lit to the brim at the front reading "Auror Training". Poised to excel, the young man sprinted on to his future. Nothing was going to stand in his way of being the best Auror he could be and making sure he did everything he could to fight for every Witch and Wizard.

The Silent Shield: A Wizarding World (HP) Auror Roleplay

@Ezekiel @Zenia


Name: Dexter Montague
Age: 21
Lineage: The Montague Family, son of Graham Montague. Half-Blood
School/house: Hogwarts/Hufflepuff
Patronus: Manx Cat

Personality: Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is a quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow." Yea, yea Dad I got it. A montra that would have to be repeated to Dex almost on a daily basis growing up. To be bold was to be courageous to him. Why would I stay silent when I knew I was right? I witness a random person call someone else a mudblood, naturally you are supposed to get in their face and "correct" them. I know, it has gotten me in trouble in the past but so what? If I don't act then I have a higher chance of regretting my choices then not acting at all. Laced with this confidence in action it was supplemented with his clown like personality. "If I can't beat them heads up, then I might as well try and knock their mind off kilter with a humorous comment or two." Not one for losing, not one for letting someone get away with a terrible act that didn't align with his morals, Dex would skirt the line of a positive morality. However, his love of competition would always play the devil's advocate in his mind. To slow down might do him good every now and again. That is, if the bastard ever listened to his own advice.

Bio: Graham Montague was a star Slytherin chaser. Brutal, cunning, and always searching to be one step ahead of his opponents. This was the reign that Dexter picked up upon attending Hogwarts. The test of time would do it's work on Dexter's father. Cool, collected, and worried about the traits that once belonged to him that he witnessed in his son. Would Dexter heed his father's advice? Of course not! Why would he? Knowing his father's track record back in school he only had one goal; to beat his father's records anyway he could.

From day one of being sorted into Hufflepuff, which was a shocker to anyone that knew Dex, all he did was search for the next step on this school's stairway to dominance. Year 1 he was recruited to play beater for Huffelpuff's team. Everyone saw this as the typical place that Dex would reside. Although, it was for reasons that weren't apparent to his peers. Sure, Dex had an in your face nature, always wanting to bring his athletic being to the next level, but he had other goals in mind here. "If I can take the Beater spot, then I can be damn sure that everyone else on my team are well protected because I trust myself to take the beating necessary to win."

Was it true distrust for others? Not in the slightest. He just had utter confidence in his own life. Too much confidence in the eyes of his instructors. Teacher's would chit chat amongst themselves on Dexter's academics over the years. Being called things such as "Thick skulled" and "Class clown" would define him to the T. With this being said, his academia obviously suffered early on. That wouldn't sit well with Dexter, oh no it wouldn't.

Upon his second year he did the unthinkable. Dexter dropped from the upcoming Quidditch season. One of the best beaters they had witnessed in years dropping out of no where? His other classmates were obviously furious with him. Their words fell upon deaf ears though. Focus was set, eyes glued to the future, he would not be known as a failure. It wasn't hard to explain to his friends that what would be the point of him staying on the team if his grades caused him to no longer be apart of the school at all? Did he want to say screw it and play with his teammates? You bet your ass he did! Mature minds would reign supreme on that day however. This was the defining thought of his second year at school.

This abrupt move in his life actually lead him to a new passion that would rival that of athletics. The side subject of Protective enchantments taught in classes such as Charms and Defense against the dark arts really fit his fancy. Being able to cast an enchantment that kept himself, or others, out of sight seemed like a pretty useful thing down the road. So he took to the subject matter like a fish to water. Running wild with it over his final years at Hogwarts.

A proud graduate of the Wizarding school, and gaining a few years of maturity while he was at it really made his father smile that day. Dexter was proud sure, but as per usual he was on to the next stepping stone. With Protection at the forefront of his mind all he could think about was going the route of all great protectors. That path had a sign lit to the brim at the front reading "Auror Training". Poised to excel, the young man sprinted on to his future. Nothing was going to stand in his way of being the best Auror he could be and making sure he did everything he could to fight for every Witch and Wizard.

The Comedy of Errors (Original Mericorp Production featuring Bethy White)

Tick.tick.tick went the meter on the pump as he watched the numbers roll by. Meri pump the gas, meri have a better plan, meri help me get all my memories back. Woman you are family to me, I want to do everything to figure out what occurred and whe . Sadly all we have is some weird watch that lets us k ow when and where we are that we got from that old fella that sold gremli s and our can do attitude.

Meri's eyes wandered toward the xonvience outlet that was next to the gas pump. That girl better be getting me my trail mix or...who is that? In the store were three people that all resembled the fella on the neighborhood watch signs. Cloaked out and even holding newspapers to cover there faces. On top of that the cashier was acting shady and had...was that one of this time turnera from Harry Potter on his neck?!?

Thankfully, the pump was finished off and so was Meri with this situatio. As he strolled into the shop he walked up next to Beth and gave her a friendly nudge. "We need to get to the choppa," doing Arnold proud with his impersonation. They had decided that old movie quotes might be a good signal code for shit is about to go down.

The Silent Shield: A Wizarding World (HP) Auror Roleplay

Will start working on my CS and have it up in a few days max

Gotham City: Shadow of the Bat

An abandoned Youth Correctional Facility on the South Side of Gotham

"Repeat it back to me," Trent said as he leaned forward from the back seat. His face emerged from the haze that sat like a stale cloud in the old Sedan. Chance was just cleaning off his FN Five-Seven, giving it another once over, because the first fifty checks weren't enough. As he holstered his piece his hands began to wander from the top of his body down to the bottom. Making sure that all of the lumps in his pockets, on his belt, and holstered were present before he pushed off. "Repeat what? Your normal sandwich order at Marty's?" this comment was accompanied with the driver of the sedan, Lisa, shaking her head and grinning. Trent restrained himself, I should smack the fuck out of the kid but last thing I need is his abnormality grabbing my arm and breaking it. ,"No dumbass, the plan."

The three amigos, of sorts, sat out front of where it all started for Chance, The Youth Correctional facility on the south side of the city. The facility was thankfully closed a few years back after a few of the employees pissed off the wrong side of Gotham's justice system. Talk had been spreading that not everything had been taken from the facility upon its "untimely" closing. So any pharmaceutical drugs that Chance could get his hands on would definitely help out the locals.

"First things first, I go in that door right," finger tracing the front of the building until it met the double doors, "There." Trent gave his eyes the old 360 treatment and thought to himself, Here we fucking go. "Then, this is where it gets good Lisa so pay attention," he mentioned as he gave a friendly tap on her shoulder. "Then I waltz back toward the lab area where all the crazy experiments happened." Giving a bit of jazz hands to accompany his speech. "That, if my memory serves me well, is the best spot to get in, snag the goods, and get back to the Martin house before dinner gets cold."

Lisa began to notice that Trent was having enough of Chance's nonsense so she went to give him a punch on the arm. Mind you, Lisa was just recently introduced to driving for the Hoods, and thus this was the first time working with Chance. Without missing a beat, Chance's right arm clamped onto her wrist with his left arm in tow to secure her shoulder joint. In one swift motion his "medical enhancement" took over and pinned her shoulder to the steering wheel while the rest of her arm was held taut ready to snap.

"Chance!" Trent had shouted gripping onto the seats in front of him. Chance's body had already tensed up in transition back to his normal state. Eyes trailed down to see the potential damage that had been done. As he inhaled he stared back at Trent with a nod. Lowering his mask and looking left and right for any cherry tops potentially in the area, Chance took off.

"What in the ever loving fuck was that about?!" Lisa exclaimed as she took solace in having both arms still attached to her body. Trent's eyes were trained on Chance as the kid slowly crept into the building through the double doors. "Apparently when you got hired on they left out a very important detail about our star child here. Don't ever, EEEEVVVER, make any rash movements toward him. See this facility here." Her eyes assessed the building as Trent continued on, "We could have hit a clinic, a corner store, anything else to try and grab these drugs. However, this right here was where they fucked that kid up. So on top of us getting what we want, he feels a tiny sense of justice stealing from these fucks." The young woman was still in a confused state but slowly understanding the situation. Even if all of this alleged mumbo jumbo was the cause of his attack was true she would still do well to just abide by that simple rule. "Now pull the car up to the corner of the building so we can get a good view of both ends of the street."

Poor fucking girl, why do I have to be such a freak?! Bunch of damn nutt jobs up in this place really did a number on me. Chance would think as he walked down the hallway flashlight first. All the needless memories raced back to his head from the days he spent locked up in this house of torture. Thankfully, it was run down, covered in dirt, decay and cobwebs. Finally, he found one of the old maps of the facility on the walls. "Let us see here, we have the room and board area, kitchen, there is some of the old lounges and boom," Chance's hand smacked the paper, "The lab."

As if his hand hit a button setting off a trap door from an Indiana Jones movie, a loud thud could be heard down the hall accompanied by a series of squeaks as rats scampering off. Drawing his pistol slowly, he paired it up with his flashlight as he made his way toward the origin of the noise. Ideally, I won't be using this on whoever might be down at the end of this hall. Last thing I need is to make unnecessary noise and set some loones on my buds outside. Hopefully, this will just scare the bastard.

The trail of rats backtracked to a closet that sat barely open. He had dropped his flashlight about moments prior in hopes of masking his presence better. Eyes finally adjusting to the dark as the muzzle of his pistol sat right at the opening of the door. Here we go, and in one swift motion he kicked the door open and pied his way into the room. The only assailant on this day was a lone broom stick that had been left propped against the door. This wooden bastard left it's resting place and made it's way straight for Chance dome. Body, taking over again in the most unnecessary of ways, lead his left arm to grab the broom and hurl it at the ground. With a growl of quick pain coursing through his body while his mind took back over he just shook his head as he turned to take off.

Although he didn't fully turn away from the door. When Chance moved the flashlight back up to eye level it moved over something that glistened. Scanning the floor for where that came from he found one brave rat that hadn't left the scene yet. "You little chubby bi..." he couldn't bare to finish that sentence because a feeling of rage covered his body instantaneously. The rat was not a brave rat but a fat fucking scoundrel that was pigging out. The meal of choice? Little morsels of meat that still clung to a bony hand laying on the floor. Chance's mind shot straight to the only plausible thing that hand had once belonged too. "I'm going to kill them, everyone of them, if any still fucking reside within a ten mile radius of the city they are going to fucking die!"

The Silent Shield: A Wizarding World (HP) Auror Roleplay

I'm in bud @Ezekiel

The Comedy of Errors (Original Mericorp Production featuring Bethy White)

"You know that I adore Back to the Future and damnit," he tossed one of the hover boards he recovered on set at the floor, "I have no idea when I would have had this chance again, but thank goodness I got a souvenir."

As the Delorean sped off stage, Meri's mind raced with so many thoughts in regards to the path they were on. It truly hope we can find the answers she seeks, lord knows it will put her at ease. What if we can't find them though? How could I possibly comfort her?Why the fuck does this Delorean have the ability too... his eyes whipped to Beth and he said...

"Beth", with much concern, "How much gas does this bad boy have? If we plan on using it, as it seems to be the tool of this time to transport us to our next location, we need to make sure we have enough fuel to do the pushing we need!"

It was such a strange happening when Beth and I stumbled upon this time travel. After much research, a few 80's style montages, and a visit to our local computer we discovered strange time traveling conduits. These items were all different, but associated with the time they existed in some manner. The correlation between the item and some sort of "time travel" was the kicker. Thankfully, our first stop could end here, at ma favorite movie. The future may be a bit more clouded with discovery of those items.

As Beth kicked it into high gear and the guards were left trailing off in the distance, I began to scan the horizon for a gas station of sorts. "If we stop, I am getting a god dang, limited edition, 80's Soda, for the road ya hear?"