Start Date - July 10th, 2012

Time: 7:00 PM

Prologue: "The Hand Fate has Dealt To You"

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It had all started with a letter it seemed. A letter with ornate coverings and fancy hand written dialogue delivered by a person, a different person to each individual, and personalized in each letter. Then those whom had chosen to accept the letter were given a strange invitation to join a group. What the group wanted? The Destruction of Hollows and a possible 'arrangement' it seemed as that's what each letter had written in it. Besides that the signature bearer being anonymous merely referring to himself or herself as 'A Possible Friend/Companion'. It was most likely the only constant in each letter. Each letter had disturbing knowledge of the person in question's abilities and even some personal information that whoever sent out these were most likely not privy to. Along with these letters was a ticket to be given to at certain airports near the location of the person as if they already knew where they were. To those who knew about the Soul Society it was certainly not their style. Whoever wrote these letters had certain knowledge about the world that a normal person shouldn't have had. It is eerie to say the least. But one thing was certain...in the past years hollow activity had been rising due to various reasons some more obvious than others. And some humans had been affected by it in different ways bringing forth powers unknown and or combated by beings long thought dead. 

This story starts off in a plane. A private jet owned by or rented by the person whom had sent the letter. All the inhabitants whom had accepted the call were accepted on board the ship one by one as it flew across the world and picked up each individual passenger one at a time. Now the jet was on a take off for the ending destination...of which remained unknown to the inhabitants on board the jet and the waitress aboard it simply said they were going to America. Where? No one would say. But one thing was certain...someone or something was waiting at the end of this for the passengers on the plane...

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How long had it been since he left Ireland? A couple days? Maybe a week tops? The jet was fast so he assumed it was only a couple days. It really didn't matter in the end. Regardless he was here and he wasn't going anywhere. He was the first one this jet picked up...it was strange as he watched new people come onto this fancy plane one at a time. But he knew one thing that was a constant....they all held some sort of spiritual connection that was for sure because he could feel it in his veins. His training may have been dulled out by the arbitrary life of a poor man like himself but he was still able to see what was clearly in front of him. Terry Adair was sitting in his chair for the entire flight only getting up to use one of the bathrooms on the jet. His leather coat was unzipped, and his shirt was not tucked in his pants. Around Terry's neck hung his cross which jingled slightly every now and then when he moved his neck. After all it was made of silver and the emerald in it made it look pretty but for anyone privy to Terry's abilities... well that was another story.

Terry had more stuff with him but it was all in the cargo hold area and all of it was unimportant. The Irishman had a glass of aged wine next to him which he sipped every once in awhile to put down his stress. What good was being treated like a guest by this plainly rich fellow if he didn't at least get a drink out of it anyhow? But one thing had haunted Terry's thoughts: How had this unknown party gathered this many people? And more importantly...why the hell did he know so much about him? Aye...that was one hell of a question he intended on getting answered. Terry had the letter neatly folded on his lap. He said nothing as he reached out and pulled out the letter with his rough hands.

Opening the letter up once more he read it once more:

"To Mr. Adair...In life there is only one constant. From nobles of the highest order whom serves only himself and or his people, to low payed farmers who strive in the hardest of condition the one constant: Death. I'm sure that you, of all people, were aware of the existence of an afterlife because of you being trained to use the abilities known as Fullbringer. You are aware by now that I am certainly not a person you know. No one besides you has known about your abilities...or at least that's what I'm told. From that one day in your life you have strived to become a person separated from others. A protector of the weak and the holy soldier of the Catholic God. Or at the very least that's what the ruse was. You were trained to combat monsters that are spawned from death...but they were not monsters more like souls to attached to this world that refused to move on. Hollow shells of their living selves, they hang onto things they shouldn't and you have seen many of these beings haven't you? You've likely seen ghosts, and other beings as well whom are not aptly named hollows. And I'm sure you know about the Soul Society as well. Perhaps you are interested in helping me fight these hollow former humans? Not for sport...not for gain....not for anything else other than necessity. You have every right to ignore this letter after all you do not know me and this letter is awfully suspicious in context. But I hope you understand one thing: Life is spiraling out of control and humanity needs a protector that doesn't tower above them like gods. Human beings have individuals like yourself that are capable of things not explainable by science. We need people like you if we are to take back our lives from the shadows of death and the psudeo guardians that hold them in place. If you want further answers....or you agree with me than please go to..."

Terry closed the letter once more and put it back in it's case as he wondered what in the hell did this person find out he was a Fullbringer...was this person a member of the Soul Society? Was this some sort of elaborate trap? Or was it just a stupid joke to waste everyone's time? The questions he intended to find out when he met this mysterious person face to face. He was curious as what type of person would set all of this up for the sake of people whom he knew nothing about. Or was it one of those self righteous spiritualists? He knew nothing and that only served to make him more nervous. Terry reached down and sipped his wine once more and looked down the row of leather seats and wondered exactly... what was his life going to hold from now on? He knew after this night...he'd likely not be the same Terry Adair whom left Ireland long ago. And he was fine with that. "In the name of the Holy Father and Mother I pray that me and those whom are on this ship find what they are looking for in the place we are to go. Protect us oh lord of light and shield us from the devil's clutches amen." Terry mumbled to himself as he clutched his cross for a moment before sighing and letting it go. Old habits died hard....