NationStates Jolt Archive

Chapter 1: Reflections

The sun beat down mercilessly in the cloudless sky. There was no hiding from it, no protection. The heat radiated from all around, it suffocated your lungs with force. It was like an invisible assailant, wrapping his strong hands around your neck and clamping down. Beads of sweat run down a young man's forhead as his dirt covered boots trample down a sun drenched and worn road in Fallujah. His sight began to wane slightly from exhaustion, dizziness and nausea set in. How can anyone live in this? He asked himself. He could feel the weight of his armor and the straps from his pack weighing down relentlessly on his shoulders. They ached in pain, groaning for relief. His body and mind were young and strong, so he continued. His M4 was held in the alert carry, poised to fire at a second's notice. The enemy was always watching, hiding in the shadows and in plain sight. After almost a year in this god forsaken land, the young man looked forward to home, just a few months away. Soon, he would stretch his arms out and welcome his wife and wrap his arms around her in a loving embrace. These thoughts kept him going. Up ahead as they neared a T shaped intersection, the squad leader raised his fist in the air, the squa halted, careful of their surroundings.
"Sgt.Reed!" a called out from the front. Reed stood back up from his kneeling position and moved past the other soldiers. He knew each and every one of them, close friends and comrades in arms.
"Yes sir?" Reed said as he knelt down next to Lt.Hardt. Hardt was a cocky lieutenant, born in Ohio, educated and a football quarterback in college. His face was clean shaven, daily. His beady brown eyes eyed Reed up.
"You're taking point, take Skavinski with you" he ordered. Reed knew what was happening, though he didn't want to admit it. Hardt had it in for him since day one, in his mind. Reed was an independent thinker, a dangerous thing in the military. He questioned leadership, believing that blind loyalty based solely on position of authority was a gross miscalculation.
"Roger that" Reed replied quickly then motioned for Skavinski to come up.

The two of them turned the corner, cover and concealment. Their weapons trained on anything suspicious. They cautiously advanced down the street, minding the open windows and close ones as well. Snipers were plenty in this city, as well as bombs. The insurgents cleaverly switched tactics from open fighting to dirty tactis such as roadside bombs and suicide bombers. Reed was breathing heavily under all his gear and helmet. In his mind the helmet was cumbersome and an annoyance, but he had to wear it regardless of his own thoughts. Skavinski was the other scout for the squad, he was a good friend and a descent marine. He joined out of lack of money for college. He came from some town in Kansas and lived a normal life until he joined The Corps. Reed advanced, stopped and covered Skavinski's approach. They did this all the way up the road. Finally, there was an open market area, deserted due to recent clashes between coalition forces and insurgents. It was once a vibrant area for trade and commerce, but now a burned out shell. Mortar rounds went off in the distance and sporatic gunfire, nothing out of the ordinary.
"Cover me" Reed said and stood up to advance. Skavinski grabbed the back of his straps.
"No, you've gone first all those other times. I'll go first now" he said with a reassuring look. Reed thought about it for a moment then decided to let Skavinski have his way. The young Kansas native stood up and rounded the corner of the building, he then began to dart across the open area towards the alley when the all too familiar sound of a rifle cracked through the dry air. Reed wheeled around to see Skavinski crumple to the ground, a red mist floating in the air. Reed screamed, screamed out against everything that led up to this point and everything that would happen...

The sounds of screaming, gunfire, and crying filled his mind. Then, there was the cocking of a hammer, and a final shot!

Reed woke from his personal nightmare, surrounded in darkness. Am I dead? He breathed heavily and quickly, sweat soaking the sheets and his skin. Such nightmares were common and plagued his dreams. His hands clenched the sheets as he whipped his head around to assure himself he was not in that place anymore. A warm and soft hand reached across to his shoulder. It was a familiar hand, one which brought comfort upon contact.
"Honey?! Are you alright?" a woman asked, deeply concerned. She sat up in bed and came to his aide and comfort.
"I-I'm fine, it's okay...go back to sleep, dear" Reed tried to reassure her he was alright. But she knew better.
"David" the name hung in the air for a moment "Was it the same one?"
"Yes, Amy...it was" Reed admitted. Amy Reed was 38 but still retained her beauty in older age. Her black hair was short and brushed against his shoulder. Reed brought a hand to his brow and wiped away the sweat. She watched him in the darkness, saw into him and the troubled and tortured soul that occupied the space inside his powerful body.
"Do you need anything? Water?" she inquired as she sighed.
"No, I'll be just fine. Get some rest" his face turned to hers in the dark, there was just anough light for them to see one another's faces. She stared back at him, his rough face and his slightly graying hair. His face told a story of trial and tribulation, of countless battles, personal ones which she knew little about.
"Alright, what will you do?" Amy laid back against the pillow.
"I'm just gonna get some fresh air." Reed replied and swung his legs out from the bed and planted his bare feet against the carpet.

He stood up, there was a pain in his lower back, a new pain which he never knew before. Father time was creeping up on him now. He went over to the closet and retrieved a navy blue robe and wrapped it around his frame and quietly exited the bedroom and down the hallway, mindful of his children sleeping. His son, Jacob was a tall lean young man of 16. He was rebellious as a youth ought to be and as hungry as one as well. The door opposite was that of his 14 year old daughter, Laura. She had a gift with words and already a skilled writer. He was proud of both of them. Despite Jacobs maxims, he was a good well meaning boy who gets good grades in school, both of them do. He tried not to judge them, he had enough maxims himself. He went down the stairs, descending into darkness. He sat at the counter in the kitchen, and retrieved a glass. He then moved down another hallway to his study. Reed knew every inch of the room and could still see well enough in the darkness. He went around to the table and sat into the chair, easing his body into it. He opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of brandy and poured a generous amount into the glass and set the bottle atop the table and sat back for a moment, eyeing up the glass. After a moment, he picked it up and took a sip. The warm liquid soothed his throat. Above him and around him were countless pictures and artifacts. Exploits froma round the world as a skilled hunter of beats and predators. He smiled briefly upon the reflection of his glory days. Above the mantle was a glass farmed Colt.45, the aged weapon wasn;t his, though he claimed it to be. In reality, it belonged to a misguided young fellow who Reed encountered shortly after leaving the service...

Can you give me more info on what this RPG is about? I don't see the point.

The pistol brought back a flood of memories. Memories of a time when he made a difference, did some actual good for society. He despised the marines. Though he excelled in the service, he was secretly bitter with everything the military stood for. How could one justify globe trotting with 150,000 troops to a foreign land for reasons unclear and shaky at best against the wishes of the collective nations and hope to bring peace to a region which has been embroiled in war for centuries? His service in Iraq was a black area of his life, one mared with tragedy and damnation. The things he did in the name of freedom and democracy. He was part of something bigger than himself, it controlled hima nd dictated his life. He stood up and went over to the mantle and put a hand against the glass case, staring deep into his own reflection and the pistol.
"I remember it like it was yesterday..." he uttered to no one in particular, perhaps to himself.

It was a brisk December night. There was recent snowfall and cars lined the streets, dusted in a fresh layer of white powder. The wind is what made it unbareable, it gnawed at my body with gerat fervor. No matter what I wore, the cold always seeped through and blsted against my skin. I was crouched on a roof top, overlookig the city. It seemed so serene and peaceful at night, but yet it contrdicted itself. My hands shivered through the gloves, should've gotten better ones. At my feet was the cross bow, modified to fit me perfectly. The arrows weren't standard ones for hunting, rather inventions of my own. They were used to stun, blunted at the ends. I had other ones which served other purposes. I kept sharp ones just in case the situation called for them. Down below was the quiet and empty street. The bank was still, almost frozen in time it was so still; however, fresh tracks in the snow led around to the side, boot prints. There were three men, one tall and the other two were short. I watched carefully, like a hunter waiting for the prey.

Can you give me more info on what this RPG is about? I don't see the point.

OOC: Didn't you see the sign-up thread? I'll give a link

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=530693

Chris was walking home from his father Aerospace firm he was thinking about what he want to eat for dinner when he got home.He finally arrived at his home
He sat down and watch a Episode of NCIS and was starting dinner and he walked into his room where he looked out of his window and saw a masked figure he cut off his dinner and enter the elevator and run across the street.he enter the apartment building and run up the stairs to what room he thought it was he had kick up the Door and The Masked man looked at him and pick up a bat swinged at him he dodge and grabbed his Arm and threw him and knocked him out.he help the woman up and she looked at and said

Thank you,Thank you !! said Woman

your welcome said Chris

Chris disappeared and walked home he saw the police coming in the distance and the woman was wondering where he went

Filthy rotting scum. Luke surveyed the people walking the streets that night.

All of them. Disgusting. Breathing pollution. The window afforded him a better view of the world than it afforded the world of him. The black tracksuit hugged his skin tightly. It was just cleaned. Clean, even if just for a second, is more deserving of heaven than anyone on this earth.

He savored the slow feel of the vinyl gloves as he pulled them tightly up his hands and over the sleeves. He then promptly sealed them with two tight rubber bands. Then came the hairnet, the surgical mask, the goggles. Every single routine was methodical and slow, coaxing him like foreplay to what would be done that evening. Looking at his beautiful fingers cased in the vinyl, he began to think. I am like a director. A beautiful composer.

---

For the anathema, he pulled a plastic bag over the small man's face. The greasy hair and thin facial features revealed that he was a veteran of heroin. This did not make him any less dangerous, but rather akin to a wounded fox. The man thrashed and squirmed, causing 'The Finger" to tighten his grip. He then smashed the man's face against the wall, causing blood to pool out of the man's nostrils along the edge of the bag. He then slammed the man's head harder and harder, with increasing excitement and energy until he heard a distinct crack and noticed he had split the man's skull. Just like an egg. The bag contained so neatly what would usually be the result of a car accident. Luke delicatly picked up the revolver the man dropped.

Inside the room, Luke would have savored to kill each one individually, but time did not permit. As soon as he kicked the door open, he cleanly placed a bullet in the heads of the men who lunged at him. The second man who stood up took one in each knee and one in the stomach. The next man who rose was promptly shot in the face, causing his jaw to explode. The final man was sitting in front of the pile of the white powder. Luke promptly pistol whipped him, knocking him out. He then slowly walked over to the man whose jaw he had removed, slowly straddling him and pinning him and then strangling him with one hand while prodding the exposed nerve with a hypodermic needle he found on the ground. When the man finally stopped responding, Luke stood up and filled the small spoon with the white powder and water. Promptly dissolving the stuff and filling a syringe with it, he stood over the man he'd rendered unconscioused previously and began tapping the man's arm. The man regained consciousness just as a vein rose and Luke jabbed the needle in. "No! Please! Thats enough to kill an elephant! Oh god, please why?" Luke held him steady, injecting the substance at an excruciatingly slow rate. This was his favorite. There was something so exciting about the idea of poisoning someone so that they knew they were going to die and that there was nothing they could do about it. Normaly, he would have stayed to watch the man writhe around, but someone had probably heard the shots, so he was content to imagine the scene. He promptly lifted the man and placed him on an overturned full length mirror. "Watch yourself as you die." He breathed silently as he left the room.

Only through satisfying my purpose can the Lord's will be done. he exhaled, sweating as he left the room.

I continued to watch, awaiting their departure from the bank. Adrenaline began to course through my veins, increasing the beating of my heart which was now like a race car down the autobaun. It was only a matter of time. Patience! They will show up, they parked ther van quite close to the bank, a sign of arrogance. Finally! After a half hour my ears picked up the sound of a heavy metal door sliding open, it was coming from the loading dock out back where the armored cars would come and go. Steel yourself David, it's almost time. Through my mask I could se shadows emerge from the alley heading towards the van, an old black van with bad tires, bad for the weather but perfect for me if it came down to it. They rounded towards the back and opened the back door. Now was the time to strike. I stood erect then stepped back to the opposite end and got a running start. My legs pumped harder and harder as I reached the edge, sprnging into the chilled night air. I wasn't falling, merely decending with grace and the lethality of a airborn predator. I braced myself for impact and my heavy boots impacted the roof of the van, I nearly lost my balance.
"What the hell?!" one of them exclaimed. I looked down at him and leaped off the van, driving my boots into his face, knocking him into a snow drift. The other fumbled for his gun, scared, I could sense it. I swept my arm around and knocked him square in the temple, he crumpled to the ground. All of a sudden, a shot rang out over my head. The third man fired wildly at me but I dodged and weaved skillfully. He ran around the van and I could hear him reloading. It was time for me to change tactics. I vanished into a dark alley and he came out from behind the van. He wheeled around, the pistol shook in his hand. It was almost too easy, this was my first time and expected some hardships, but I find myself suprised. I mad a mistake and backed into a garbage can which he heard and fored into the valley. Luckily, I leaped up to a window seal and climbed my way up to a ledge and moved around.
"Who are you?!" the tall man demanded, his breath visible in the night air. I steadied my crossbow...
"The Hunter" I growled and pulled the trigger, a bolt flew into his chest, impacting with great force and knocking the wind out of him. I didn't want to kill anyone so the arrows were modified. All three of them were there on the ground, stunned. I reached in my pocket and pulled out a cell phone, encrypted, and dialed the police. I used a raspy voice and gave them the location and hung up. My first night on the job was a success. I felt good about it, like this was what I was waiting for, a chance to make some real change. My legs hurt from the strain and I found myself limping quickly down a dark alley out of the area before the police arrived...

Reed snapped out of his memory and focused on the here and now. Those were the good old days, when people like him were a welcomed relief to society, long since plagued by crime. It was a cancer slowly rottin away at the foundation of America. Serving his country didn'w work, so he served the people. Not like some greedy politician, but as a vigilante. He smiled and finished off the brandy and sat back into the chair again and exhaled deeply. He then looked over at the clock. It was late and tomorrow was a school day and he had a lecture to give on Macbeth.
"I guess I should get some sleep" he said off into the distance,

Matthias watched from his limousine as his men entered the small mom and pop shop. The owner a man by the name of Greg Regermen had refused to pay the Guild for their continued protection in this dangerous neighborhood. This insult had to be repaid in the usual manner and it was obvious that Greg and his family were not going to like the results of their punishment.


The sound of gun shots echoed out of the building and the Guildsmen wearing black ski masks began to steal from the registers and looting the now defenseless store. The bodies of Greg, his wife, and his two children were all on the floor with bullet wounds from various caliber bullets. The Guildsmen upon completing their quick shopping spree ran out of the building and headed out of the store after placing a small bomb on the store’s counter.


Matthias watched as his men quickly got to their exit vehicles and drove out of the area. The crime boss also took note of the building exploding in a huge burst of flames. This action caused Matthias to smile a dark and twisted smile and he told his driver to take him home. Matthias quickly called the NYPD on his cell phone to inform them that he had witnessed a fire at Regermen’s grocery store ……

Amy Reed wandered into his study in the morning to find her husband passed out, head upon the desk. She folded her arms adn leaned against the frame of the door.
"David!" she exclaimed. Reed jumped up and felt dazed and confused. He looked at her then rubbed his eyes. How didn't I sense her coming? He thought. It was true, his skills and abilities weren't what they used to be.
"Yes?" he said lazily, rubbing his eyes.
"It's time for you to get ready for work, dear" she told him. Reed sighed and stood up and gave her a kiss on the cheek and moved back to the bedroom to get dressed and ready for the day.

Reed wandered into the kitchen to see Jacob scarfing down some toast and his daughter, Laura, packing her backpack. Reed was now dressed in a suit and tie. The shirt was deep blue and the tie yellow. The TV was on and he elaned against the counter to watch.

'Our top story today' the young and attractive female anchor began, her name escpaed him at the moment 'Another murder occured today in Philadelphia...'

Foxfire stood on the edge of the bridge. He rocked slowly back and forth, contemplating. Foxfire's life had been a mess. His mother had died in childbirth, he grew up in a bad part of town, his only friend had been killed, his father worked himself to an early death so Foxfire could go to college...
Foxfire had joined the SWAT, hoping to prevent more crime like that he had grown up with, but was disgusted and horrified at the corruption that spred though the ranks like a poison. He dropped out, but he had no job, little money, no family, no friends, only a car and a few personal belongings. He teters on the edge. Tears silently roll down his cheeks. He just couldn't do it any more. He couldn't...keep...going...
OOC: I need someone to stop him.

The headlines were all the same. Murder, rape, robbery, war. There were stories about the homless being relocated, their shanty towns under bridges being washed away by city authorities. Finally, out of disgust, Reed turned off the tv.
"Hey! I was watching that" Jacob exclaimed through a mouthful of cheerios.
"You're not missin much, son" Reed replied. "Except the bus" and he pointed out the window to where the familiar yellow bus sat, waiting. Jacob bolted from his chair, scooped up his backpack and darted out the door as did Laura following close behind. Reed smirked at Amy who just shook her head.
"David, you should be off as well" Amy smiled.
"Don't you have that case today?" Reed asked.
"Yes I do-"
"Then you best get ready as well" he smiled and stood up from the chair and embraced her and gave a kiss on the lips.
"Alright, smart-ass" she winked "We both have to get ready." Reed did his dishes and moved over to the hallway by the front door and picked up his briefcase and put on his glasses. He actually didn't need them, they were just a special kind of plastic. He only wore them so as to not bring unwanted attention. He was getting older and failing eye sight was a symptom from which he did not suffer.
"Have a wonderful day, dear" Amy waved to him as Reed departed down the walkway to his car. Reed entered, turned the ignition and drove down to the university of Philadelphia. It was a job he enjoyed for the most part. It was a battle in of itself to maintain their attention about English literature. He held a position there for 7 years as a professor and became a respected member of the faculty amoungt his fellow teachers and pupils.

Meanwhile...

A blue BMW 650i flowed down a bridge across the river. There was light traffic but the driver, a young woman in her late twenties with medium blonde hair and deep blue eyes saw no need to depress her foot down any further on the gas pedal. She rolled down the window and felt the cool breeze whip past her face. She closed her eyes for a second then reopened them. The radio was playing the news. The same old vile filth polluted the airways. Out of frustration, she turned off the radio. My time will come. Jessica Sanderson broght her right hand back up to the steering wheel. The news was always bleak and she depised it. Beneath her cute and carefree demeanor hid something much more. Jessica changed lanes closer to the edge of the bridge to let a truck go past, just trying to be helpful to others. Suddenly, her eyes caught something further down on the edge of the bridge. It was a man! She gasped and excelerated and got off onto the shoulder a short distance from the man. She stepped out and stood tall behind the door. The young woman was rather tall for being a woman but she claimed the heels fooled you. She searched for something to say to the man who appeared disturbed about something.
"Morning!" she called out to him, her hand gripping the frame of the door. "What's your name? Mine's Jessica!". She thought about calling the police but that would just escalate the situation further.

In New York City, a detective arrives on scene...

Detective Danny Santini stepped out of the duty vehicle and yawned. He was asleep in his apartment, without a care at the moment. The apartment was dark and warm, and without anyone else...which is how he liked it, or so he claimed. He held a cup of coffee, scolding hot and beginning to warm up his hand. In front of him was a grisly scene. The chared out shell of a once prosperous store in the middle of a bad neighborhood. Yellow police tape stretched across it like banners across a street during Memorial Day. Several police units, fire and medical were on scene. he awaited the report from the fire chief and his partner,Turner. Turner was a heavier guy with a beard and a good sense of humor. His partner finally arrived.
"What took you so long?" Santini inquired.
"What do you want from me, Danny? Traffic is murder this time of the hour" Turner replied with a hearty handshake then they both turned to see the medics carrying out bodybags. Turner covered his mouth, the odor of burnt flesh filled the air.
"A damn shame..." Santini uttered. They went about the usual procedures, talked to the fire chief who said that the place was torn apart first and the entire family shot. A shockwave of disbelief went through the detective's heart. A family murdered? Crime was on a rise whether anyone wanted to admit it or not. Santini's gut instinct kicked into work as they scowered over the crime scene, searching for any evidence or clues.

His eyes were fixated on the ground, charred remains of store products and metal covered the ground as crews sprayed extra water over a still smoking area. Finally, something caught his eyes, it was blackened except for a small part of it. He took out a pen from his inner coat pocket and carefully picked up a brass casing with it.
"Looks like a real stone cold murder" he called out.

OOC: Rastorian Syndicate, check your tg's

An old hunter recindles his senses...

The class listened as Reed continued on with his lesson about the prophecies that the three witches made in Macbeth. Comprehending the language and writing style of old England was noe asy task and the students found it understandably difficult. But, Reed helped them through it and understand it. The lecture went on till the bell rang. The students became reanimated and leaped from their seats as Reed turned around from the chalkboard.
"Remember, there's gonna be a test on Wednesday on the material we just covered!" he managed over the sound of shuffling books and talking as the students filtered out of his classroom. He sat down, the next class wasn't for a few hours so he took this time to catch up on grading papers they wrote and turned in last week. The stacks of compositions never got any lower but always got higher. A sigh eminated from his mouth as he took off the fake glasses, a welcome relief and got to work.

Afterwards, he ate his bag lunch. A simple ham sandwich, apple, and asorted other snacks. He bought a water from a vending machine from the facult lounge of the English department. Content with his meal, Reed departed the building and decided to take a stroll through the campus which he always marveled as beautiful. Students darted here and there, late for class while others nestled up against trees for some peace and quite while they studied for mid-terms. He looked at his watch them put his hands in his pockets. After a few minutes he moved between two buildings to see a backpack lying on the ground, just outside the alleyway. It was a red bag, one he'd seen before, belonging to a girl in one of his classes. Concerned, he picked up the bag then halted, he heard something familiar. There was a muffled cry from the alley, he dropped the bag as his ehart began to pump wildly, adrenaline filled his veins as he darted down the alley. Round the corner was an aweful sight, one he'd seen before in the past. One man was holding a girl while the other came closer, like a hungry predator.
"Let her go!" he growled. The two men turned to see Reed stepping closer, mindful of them. One produced a switchblade and brought it to her throat, she tried to scream. The other lunged for Reed who grabbed his arm, twisted it around and thrusted him into the wall with great force. Then, he brought his knee up into the young man's side, he fell to the ground in pain. Reed then turned to the other man who ahd that familiar look of fear on his face. The knife began to shake clser and closer to the girl's neck. She was crying and pleading for help.
"Okay..." Reed said slowly, his left hand raised mid way in the air. "Just let her go, pal" he tried to reason. The man struggled with what to do. So, in a desperate attempt to escape, he shoved the girl forward towards Reed and in the same moment threw the knife at him. It sailed towards him but with quick reflexes, Reed dodged the knife and caught it by the handle and threw it back, sinking into the man's arm. He picked up the girl.
"Are you alright?" he asked concerned.
"Y-Yes, I'm fine, thanks Mr.Reed!" she excalimed and hugged him. It all started coming back to him.

The headlines were all the same. Murder, rape, robbery, war. There were stories about the homless being relocated, their shanty towns under bridges being washed away by city authorities. Finally, out of disgust, Reed turned off the tv.
"Hey! I was watching that" Jacob exclaimed through a mouthful of cheerios.
"You're not missin much, son" Reed replied. "Except the bus" and he pointed out the window to where the familiar yellow bus sat, waiting. Jacob bolted from his chair, scooped up his backpack and darted out the door as did Laura following close behind. Reed smirked at Amy who just shook her head.
"David, you should be off as well" Amy smiled.
"Don't you have that case today?" Reed asked.
"Yes I do-"
"Then you best get ready as well" he smiled and stood up from the chair and embraced her and gave a kiss on the lips.
"Alright, smart-ass" she winked "We both have to get ready." Reed did his dishes and moved over to the hallway by the front door and picked up his briefcase and put on his glasses. He actually didn't need them, they were just a special kind of plastic. He only wore them so as to not bring unwanted attention. He was getting older and failing eye sight was a symptom from which he did not suffer.
"Have a wonderful day, dear" Amy waved to him as Reed departed down the walkway to his car. Reed entered, turned the ignition and drove down to the university of Philadelphia. It was a job he enjoyed for the most part. It was a battle in of itself to maintain their attention about English literature. He held a position there for 7 years as a professor and became a respected member of the faculty amoungt his fellow teachers and pupils.

Meanwhile...

A blue BMW 650i flowed down a bridge across the river. There was light traffic but the driver, a young woman in her late twenties with medium blonde hair and deep blue eyes saw no need to depress her foot down any further on the gas pedal. She rolled down the window and felt the cool breeze whip past her face. She closed her eyes for a second then reopened them. The radio was playing the news. The same old vile filth polluted the airways. Out of frustration, she turned off the radio. My time will come. Jessica Sanderson broght her right hand back up to the steering wheel. The news was always bleak and she depised it. Beneath her cute and carefree demeanor hid something much more. Jessica changed lanes closer to the edge of the bridge to let a truck go past, just trying to be helpful to others. Suddenly, her eyes caught something further down on the edge of the bridge. It was a man! She gasped and excelerated and got off onto the shoulder a short distance from the man. She stepped out and stood tall behind the door. The young woman was rather tall for being a woman but she claimed the heels fooled you. She searched for something to say to the man who appeared disturbed about something.
"Morning!" she called out to him, her hand gripping the frame of the door. "What's your name? Mine's Jessica!". She thought about calling the police but that would just escalate the situation further.
Foxfire turned at the sound of the women's voice. She was tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes, in her mid to late twenties. She stood, clutching the drivers side door of her car. Foxfire gaped at her. Here he was, about to commit suicide, and out of the blue some women comes up and asks him his name?! Unsure of what to do, he spoke. "My name is...Foxfire." he said slowly. He stepped away from the edge of the bridge. "Would you..er, happen to know of a place where I could-" he was cut off as a second car rolled onto the bridge. It was a black and sleek, a Mercedes car. Two men stepped out. They were carriying Uzis. Shit, Foxfire thought, why now? He lunged at the women. "Get down!" he cried as the men opened fire.

The Angel of Mercy and Vengence...

Jessica smiled quaintly, trying to reassure him that she wasn't a threat. She had to be very careful, any sudden moevements could send him over the edge, literally. So, she remained planted but decided to come out from behind the door but stayed close to the front of the car at the bumper.
"Well, Foxfire...let's talk, shall we?" she asked. Foxfire, what an odd name, can't be his real one. All of a sudden, she ehard a car pull up behind her, large strong men stepped out with merciless expressions on their faces. They opened fire as the man tried to lung after her. This was it...the moment she waited for the most and now feared the most. A chance to start off as what she was working so hard to become.

She planted both hands on the hood and swung her feet over it to get out of the way of the bullets which began to fly overhead and smash into her car. She hunched down and moved along the side of the car, towards the man.
"Don't worry, everything will be alright" she assured him in a strangley calm voice. She reached under the car with he delicate looking hands and with great ease pulled out a sivler cylinder approx. 2 feet in length. This was the first time she'd use it in an actual event. Her palm depressed into the center of it and more round metal shot out from both ends. It was a now a staff. Hopefully no one was watching, she couldn't afford to have her identity blown in broad daylight. She stood the staff up and grasped it firmly with two hands. She contracted all her muscles and leaped to the roof of the car while the two men were reloading. A gust fo wind blew past her hair which flowed with the breeze, her angelic eyes looked up at the two men and a smile came across her face. She jumped off the car and the shaft impacted with the chest of the fisrt man, knocking the air out of him as he flew back. The other man wheeled around and fired off more shots as she ducked and swept the staff under his feet, sending him awkwardly into the air and hitting hard on the ground. She stood up, breathing heavily and excited about her first victory.
"Who are you?" she asked the one man.

The Angel of Mercy and Vengence...

Jessica smiled quaintly, trying to reassure him that she wasn't a threat. She had to be very careful, any sudden moevements could send him over the edge, literally. So, she remained planted but decided to come out from behind the door but stayed close to the front of the car at the bumper.
"Well, Foxfire...let's talk, shall we?" she asked. Foxfire, what an odd name, can't be his real one. All of a sudden, she ehard a car pull up behind her, large strong men stepped out with merciless expressions on their faces. They opened fire as the man tried to lung after her. This was it...the moment she waited for the most and now feared the most. A chance to start off as what she was working so hard to become.

She planted both hands on the hood and swung her feet over it to get out of the way of the bullets which began to fly overhead and smash into her car. She hunched down and moved along the side of the car, towards the man.
"Don't worry, everything will be alright" she assured him in a strangley calm voice. She reached under the car with he delicate looking hands and with great ease pulled out a sivler cylinder approx. 2 feet in length. This was the first time she'd use it in an actual event. Her palm depressed into the center of it and more round metal shot out from both ends. It was a now a staff. Hopefully no one was watching, she couldn't afford to have her identity blown in broad daylight. She stood the staff up and grasped it firmly with two hands. She contracted all her muscles and leaped to the roof of the car while the two men were reloading. A gust fo wind blew past her hair which flowed with the breeze, her angelic eyes looked up at the two men and a smile came across her face. She jumped off the car and the shaft impacted with the chest of the fisrt man, knocking the air out of him as he flew back. The other man wheeled around and fired off more shots as she ducked and swept the staff under his feet, sending him awkwardly into the air and hitting hard on the ground. She stood up, breathing heavily and excited about her first victory.
"Who are you?" she asked the one man.
Foxfire watched in amazment as the Jessica quickly dispatched of both attackers. She stood over one of them, speaking to him. Silently the car door opened again and another man got out. He held a pistol and leveled it at Jessica. "No!" Foxfire gasped, and, without even thinking about the implications of his actions, lept with amazing speed and grace onto the hood of the other car, bringing his feet up and slamming them into the man's face. He stumbled back, cursing, and dropped his gun. Foxfire dove for it and rolled, coming up on one knee, and shot the man in the leg. He dropped onto the ground. Foxfire stood with the pistol in hand and aimed it at the man Jessica was standing over. "She asked you a question!" he said coldly, the barrel of the gun inchs away from the man's face. "Okay, okay, don't shoot me!" the man said, his eyes wide. "We we're sent to kill you, by our boss. He dosen't want you around, I don't know anything else!"

This was a most dangerous position that she was in. It was broad daylight on the bridge, luckily no cars were around and hopefully no one was watching. It was all exciting and scary at the same time. The thrill of her first fight was exhilerating. Jessica depressed her palm again and the staff collapsed back into it's original form. Now, there was a flood of questions she had. This mysterious Firefox and these armed men.
"Well...Mr.Firefox" she said as she turned around to look at her car which was wrecked by the way. She sighed out of frustration. "I must be off, I still have another job to do." she looked at her watch, almost late for work. As much as she wanted to stay and get a taste of this business, she had to keep up apperances. The company already had her down for taking multiple sick days and coming in late on several occasions and she couldn't afford to be fired. The one thing keeping her from being fired was the tremendous success she had with the company and the technology she helped to build. Without hesitation she walked over to the car used by the gunmen and gave it a quick examination. It seemed without anything dangerous to her so she glided gently in and adjusted her seat, the driver was shorter than her. She cranked the seat back a bit and stuck her head out the window.
"It was exciting, but I have to go. See you around" she smiled and pulled out onto the road and accelerated off the other end and towards her final destination.

Sirens sounded in the distance as Foxfire stood alone on the bridge. The three men were all knocked out. Foxfire took the pistol and a Uzi and walked away, towards his van. The van was gray, and, while it was in a workable condition, it was old. Foxfire kept it mantained, but he'd have to get a new car soon and he didn't have the money to buy a new car, or even a used one. Foxfire's list of posessions was short:
1 old Van
2 Sleeping bags
1 pistol, 1 Uzi, 2 switchblades, 1 katana sword
10 changes of clothing
Soap, shaver, shampoo, and other toiletry materials
1 old computor
1 MP3 player, 1 radio
about $600.47 in cash
This was a full list of Foxfire's belongings. He got along, eating at soup kitchens, scavenging up money from odd jobs, and the like. But he simply didn't have anywhere to go. Once he'd been fired from the police force for striking a superoir officer, he'd found that, even with his brains, talent and college degree, all doors were closed to him. Who where those guys? Foxfire mused to himself. Why would anyone want to kill me? It dosen't make sense! I'll get to the bottom of this if it's the last thing I do...Foxfire smiled to himself. The last thing you almost did was jump off a bridge, remember? he thought.
OOC: You think you could have the Guild have something to do with this?

The campus and city police were called and took statements and arrested the two attackers. The Dean of the university, named Paul Lawson. He was an older man with a white beard and an infecitious smile. He casually walked up to Reed as the cop cars cleared the scene and Patricia Stark, the victim, was escorted away to the station.
"That was some fancy work, Dave" Lawson said, putting an aged hand on his broad shoulder. Reed was still lost in his world, his element. "Are you alright?" he took off his glasses and shot him a curious look.
"Yeah, I'm fine Paul. Just a little crossed about something like this happening on campus" Reed replied in a low tone, distant.
"It's a damn shame" he sighed. "Tjings are just getting worse"
"Yes, yes they are" Reed looked up and saw the lining of the city in the distance.
"Listen, why don't you take the next couple days off, you did good" lawson smiled and walked away. Reed nodded and returned to his office to gather his things. He needed some time to think. It was good that no one questioned him as to how he caught the knife, Patricia was grateful and didn't inquire either.

Back home, Reed loosened and removed his tie and jacket and let them hand freely off a chair in the dining room. The kids were at school and his wife was at the courthouse filing motions for another court case. In his private study, Reed looked at his collection on the mantle piece. Yes, things were indeed getting worse... One of the frames contained a newspaper with the headline: Masked Heroes Banned! It was a dark time in his lfie, when all he thought he knew came crashing down...

It all started ten years ago...Before that dreadful and shameful incident, we were welcomed with open arms by society, long since plagued by rampit crime in the cities. Back then, we were not feared nor mistrusted, but rather relied on to help the innocent. That was...until the Mendes Affair. Arturo Mendes was a naturalized citizen from Mexico. He managed to gain legal entrance into the nation and went on to live the life of an average law abiding citizen. He voted, paid taxes, married a fine young woman, the daughter of a rancher. Mendes worked in construction, not exactly a high paying job, but honest. One day, Mendes returned home from a hard day of work to find his house ransacked. In the bedroom, his wife was raped and murdered. This tradgeic event scarred him horribly. desperate for answers, Mendes went out on his own to find the killers. The police weren't helping much, he believed it was due to him being a Mexican. The Texas authorities danced around but finally came up with three names, three suspects. Mendes plotted and planned his revenge and finally, he struck out against the murderers of his wife. It was a brutal sie when the police arrived. Mendes was long gone but his work remained. Since then, Mendes went around as a vigilante, killing those even suspected of a major crime. His vigilante spree finally ended with his capture. The police could only tie him to a dozen murders but many believed that there was more. He was sentenced to death and that was the first pull of a string on the tapestry of masked vigilantes...

Detective Santini entered the meeting room of the police station. All around him were busy police officers and detectives. Reports were coming in non-stop as the jails in the tombs overfilled with violators. Criminals were getting bolder and those opposing them were undermanned, under funded, and under siege. Over the past five years, crime rose at a steady rate across the country. Many blamed the Henderson Act, named after the crusading Senator Henderson (R) Texas. He was the spearhead against masked vigilantes, using the Mendes Affair as a rallying cry against those who took the law in their own hands. Special task forces were created to hunt them down and arrest them. Many claimed it was against the civil liberties of citizens, illegal wire taps, unlawful searches and seizures.

Santini sighed and sat down at his desk which overflowed with paperwork. He went to work and continued diligently. This recent case was disturbing, yet not uncommon, sadly. Initial reports said it was just a robbery gone bad but Santini knew different. In his mind, he suspected something else. The fabled Guild. Their existance was a controversy and their endeavours and connections vast. They hid behinf influential persons and legitimate businesses. His suspecions had no hard evidence but he was determined to find some.

IC:

Matthias Bernstein sat in his office at the Capital Local of the United Worker Unions located in the Bronx. Matthias was now often called, “The Boss” on the streets because of his power within the Union. Matthias Bernstein was now quite famous in the working world for his generous policy of giving low level thugs and gangsters legitimate jobs to get a new start on life and to teach them a legal trade to avoid forcing them to revert back to their old ways of crime and violence. This was the cover story to explain the rather large amount of felons and ex-cons within the Union.


The truth was a tad more insidious, The real reason was to help his Guildsmen have legal incomes to hide their criminal wealth from the IRS and provide a place to launder their illegal profits through the union’s banking accounts. It was an ingenious racket that provided several million dollars of illegal profits a year and these figures seemed to be increasing over the last five years…


Matthias noted with glee that his profits were already triple his initial estimates and his organization could now expand beyond their fiefdom of New York. Matthias was ambitious and wanted to expand his Guild into New Jersey and Chicago and Boston providing more profit and power for both the Guild and the Boss…


The first step was getting the local police departments to accept the Guild’s overtures of “friendship” This process could be difficult considering how much influence would be needed to even get the police chiefs to listen to such offers let alone accept them. Matthias sighs and finally decides to use his legitimate power first and then use his criminal muscle to get the local police departments into his pocket permanently…


Matthias in the middle of his planning hears his cell phone and immediately answers with his usual greeting, “Matthias speaking, How may I help you?”

On the other end……..

“Boss, I have bad news, The Enderson case came back and management won the case. I also would like to report that the Management investigators are accusing us of failing to fix the problem between Enderson and his supervisor.”

Matthias listened to the message and quickly understood the meaning, The phrase of Enderson case was a secret Guild term for a hit and management wining the case meant that the hit failed. The phrase Management investigators meant that detectives are investigating local Guild activities.

Matthias smiled and made a reply, “I want you to call management and fire the representatives of the case. I would also like you to send the Investigators a generous token of our appreciation for their services.”

The meaning of this message was simple, Matthias was ordering his Guildsmen to send a bribe to the local police to get the hit men out of jail. The fact they were being fired meant they were to be executed ASAP, this policy was a standard Guild rule to prevent the hitmen a chance to squeal on their superiors. The last part meant of his response was that the detectives were to be bribed to look the other way in their investigation and hopefully get the heat off Guild activities..



Jack Connelly finally ended the brief conversation, "Understood Boss, I will begin following your instructions.” Jack promptly hung up his phone and left his desk to go and get his coat and equipment. It was going to be a bloody couple of days by the sound of his Boss’s voice…..

American News Network, ANN

In our top story today, Senator Ross Henderson (R) Texas, with the backing of several other senators and lobbyists, introduced a bill today in the Senate which would outlaw masked vigilantes. Previously, such a moved would be political suicide, since the Mendes Affair, anti-vigilante fever's been sweeping the nation. Mass protests and boycotts were held in several major cities. Arturo Mendes, the infamous vigilante who murdered a known dozen people was finally executed last week by lethal injection, admist a storm of controversy and protest. In the wake of this incident, supporters on boths sides took to the streets to have their voices heard. Many average citizens believe that if this bill passes, the vigilantes which kept the city streets safe for so many years, would be persecuted like witches. For the past decade, crime rates were at an all time low in the nation and many say that it will all change and revert back if vigilantes are banned. They gained great support amoungst working class citizens and even law enforcement. But FBI officals say that many vigilantes, are in it for self profit. We will keep you posted on any new developements...

Reed stirred from his day dream. It still baffled him to this day how the public could turn against masked vigilantes just because of one nutcase. It was true, there were some vigilantes with less than admirable goals, but most were honest, just people with good intentions. The public loved them and welcomed them, even the police who saw it as citizens assisting them. Goiod sumaritans were all they were, in his mind. memories flooded his senses. He smiled, feeling proud of what he did today, knowing that he can still do some good. Of course, he could not openly go back to his old ways. The bottle was now half empty...or half full?

Elsewhere...

Jessica's long legs pumped hard as she tramped down the long hallway of Graystone Tech, a leading technological company in the nation. It's founder, Frank Graystone, dedicated his life to science and technology and a recent boost to his company was the introduction to the Military Science & Tchnologies Department which she belonged to as a technician. It was a lucrative position that she enjoyed. As much as she hated creating weapons of war, it had it's benefits, such as access to military technologie, experimental technology, and raw materials and equipment. She secretly abconded with pieces here and there over the past few years, no one noticed or even suspected her. As she slid her keycard into the reciever, a white door slid open and led into a highly modern setting of labs and workshops. At her station, a balding older man stood in a white lab coat, tapping his foot, a scowl on his face.
"Dr.Jensen,so sorry for being late!" Jessica exclaimed as she hurried to her desk .
"Again..." Dr.Jensen finished. She searched for an excuse.
"Traffic was murder today" she said awkwardly with a smile. Jensen looked at her with suspicion.
"What are we to do with you?" he asked, moving around to the other side of her desk. "You take alot of sick days and come in late frequently...But dammit, you do some fine work with us here in the department" he admitted.
"I promise it won't happen again"
"That's what you said last time" Jensen grumbled and walked off. Jessica sighed and opened up her laptop and entered her password. A file popped up on screen, skematics for an interesting piece of equipment...

A fire rekindled inside Reed as he lifted out from the chair and came back round from the desk and moved determined up the stairs. In the bedroom he recovered some gym clothes and put them on. He remained in magnificant shape for being 40, working out almost everyday, he began to slack over the past year but was now determined to start back up. He went down into the basement where there was exercise equipment and weights. He stretched then dropped to the ground to do 200 push-ups, pumping them out easily. Then, he need just as many sit-ups and hit the weights, maxing out on his shoulders and arms today. The work-out lasted about two hours. Beads of sweat dropped from his brow as he pushed himself to do one more rep on the weights. His powerful muscles contracting and straining, pushing farther and farther. His will power exceeded his physical power and finally prevailed. It felt good, the intense burn in his body as his muscles groaned from exertion. This was a way to release his tensions and frustrations. The world was not a better place since the passing of the Henderson Act. Every bad newsn story fueled him to push further, driving him back towards the life he left behind, now locked away in memory.

Now, as he wiped his arms and face off with a towel, he moved over to the mirror and examined his face. His face was rough and unshaven, eyes set into his sockets more with small bags beginning to form. His eyes were still intense and strong. His body remained in great condition though he could begin to feel the affects of his past exploits. Over the years he accumilated quite the sheet of injuries, including a bullet wound...a careless mistake he made and one he learned from when he was younger. The, he saw himself differently, as he was in the past. Yurning, he turned around and stroden to a locked closet. He pressed his hand against a panel next to it and it flipped open with a keypad. The number, he knew by heart and pressed the corresponding buttons. The door slid open with a click. Inside was dark, he flicked on a switch which illuminated his past life. His old suit, gear, weapons, trophies lined the walls. His familiar black mask hung on the wall, beckoning to him and he answered. His hands wrapped around the mask, fingers electrified at the very touch. Reed brought the mask to his face, inches away.
"David? Are you down here?" Amy called out from the basement steps. Reed snapped out of his trance and put the mask back up on the hooks. She's home early!
"Yeah, I'm here in the room, Amy" Reed replied as he moved out of the closet and into the open space of the basement. She came down the wooden steps and greeted him with a concerned look and a kiss on the cheek.
"Were you in the room again?" she sighed.
"Yes, I was working out and I just thought...I just thought I'd pop in and see if everything was still there." Reed lied, she raised an eyebrow and folded her arms.
"David, we've been over this before...it's long since been time to just...let go and move on" Amy closed the sliding door to the room.
"I have moved on!" Reed snapped but instantly regretted it. "The world's moved on as well" his voice lowered. Amy came to him and wrapped her amrs around her husband, her hero.

Nimble and delicate fingers tapped over the keyboard with lightning percision. Every stroke brought her closer and closer to completing the plans. Jessica sat back into her chair and cracked her knuckles and cranned her head around, bringing one hand up to brush some blonde strands of hair from her face and continued working. What lay before her was an awesome and complex sight. The plans and skematics were highly advanced, demanding serious hardware. Determined, she clenched a simple silver cross that dangled from her neck and rested against her chest, rising with each breath. Jessica closed her eyes...

It was a hot day...like most summer days in Los Angeles. Smog rose off in the distance as traffic clogged the highways. Things always became more intense during the summer, people became more aggressive and short tempered. A much younger Jessica approached the door to her home.
"Remember Jessica, don't wander off too far" her mmother advised in kind gentle words as she bent down to run a hand through Jessica's fine hair. "And Tommy, watch your sister" she cast a gaze at Tommy Sanderson, a ten year old boy with short brown hair.
"Don't worry mom, I'll take care of her" Tommy smiled and grasped his sister's hand and walked out. Their mother was always concerned, rightfully so. It was a dangerous neighborhood, the gangs were at war and everyone knew it. At the playground, under the scorching sun, the two children ran off to the gym equipment and joined other children from the neighborhood. Jessica smiled and laughed as she slid down te slide and landed softly on the pavement, she was always good on her feet.
"Tommy! Look at me!" she called out and climbed the slide once again. Her brother turned, holding a red ball in his hands. All of a sudden, a red car crept down the street, off in the distance was a collection of teenagers around a park bench. The windows rolled down and barrels pointed outwards, igniting in a spectacular fire of bullets. Ricochets bounced off the ground. Tommy began running towards Jessica who stood petrified on the ladder. Suddenly, he crumpled to the ground. Jessica couldn't scream as she saw her brother fall...everything went black as a sharp pain kicked into her side, causing her to fall off the ladder and impact into the pavement.

It was like a dream...everything was hazy and unfamiliar yet so serene and tranquil. The calm of her surroundings transfixed her as she wandered through nothing. Ahead, an inviting light shone bright. Captivated, Jessica wandered closer and closer but could not reach it. Suddenly, a silouhette appeared in front of her, the light shinning around the edges of this figure, with broad wings and a gentle light of its' own. Jessica stood in marvel but suddenly found herself smiling, a deep understanding in her mind...Jessica woke up in a hospital bed, a greif stricken mother and father by her side as she looked around to see the IV tube in her one arm and blood in the other. The news was terrible...Tommy was dead, her older brother and best friend...dead.

The young woman woke from her trance and went back to work on the computer. Her work was important, much more important than this job she was at. There was a higher calling, one which charged her with a righteous duty...

Santini remained on the phone for several hours, using every contact and nearly every favor people owed him. The snitches were unusually quiet on the wire after th hit on the murder of the family. The news, however; was quite vocal. There was an outcry against this senseless killing of an entire family. There were plenty of crimes everyday, but one such as this didn't happen very often. He grumbled as he set the reciever down and cracked his neck, loosening the muscles which became stiff.
"Take off, Danny. Go home" a familiar voice begged. It was Gardner who wobbled over to a chair and eased himself into it. Santini rubbed his rough face and sat back, turning the chair to face Gardner.
"No, I still have some work to do" Santini replied, wearily. Gardner leaned forward in his chair and adjusted his seating.
"Listen, Danny...staying late ain't gonna crack this case. We'll pick it up tomorrow" Santini raised an eyebrow. Why was Gardner being so dismissive about all this? It pained Santini to see Gardner become what he did. They both graduated the academy together and joined the force as two green yet optomistic police officers out to do some good. Sadly, the years wore on against the two of them, wearing them down, dulling their enthusiasm. Gardner changed the most dramatically while Santini managed to retain some of his old beliefes. His faith was tested everyday as the cases just piled on and on.
"Maybe you're right" Santini admitted, feeling a tad defeated. "There's always tomorrow" he smiled. Gardner smiled and managed out of the chair and the two walked out of the police station. Santini produced a cigarette and lighter. Puffs of smoke danced in the air as he watched the cigarette burn away after each drag. He sudden;y coughed violently then recovered.
"Are you alright?" Gardner inquired.
"I-I'm fine" Santini waved it off and went to his car and drove home in the night.

He lived in an apartment, descent in size and comfortable enough. He was alone in the apartment as he shuffled in the hallway, flipping on a light and dropping his bag. In the kitchen he prepared a frozen dinner, too tired to make a real meal. He sat at the table, the other three chairs empty. It's been three years since the divorce and Santini moved out. His marriage to Jenny started off great but over the years began to wear down, his job, her job, and finally the kids created a rift between the two of them. The two became more and more distant until one day when Santini found himself at a bar, drinking with a female patrol officer. They were drunk and in their minds, had alot in common and the next morning, Santini woke up next to her. Guilt drove him to tell Jenny who demanded a divorce the day after. She kept the house and the kids and Santini moved to the apartment.

Night fell on Philadelphia as the city nestled into routine of sleep. The streets were minimally occupied while cars lined the sides of the streets. The local watering holes were hopping as well as dance clubs, but little else. The children were long since asleep and Amy drifted into her dreams. Reed lay in bed, eyes wide open. Fighting those two would be attackers on campus still raced through his mind. Excited that his skills weren't as dull as once thought, Reed felt emboldened once again. Carefully, he slide out from under the covers, stopping when his wife shifted in bed. Satisfied that she was not awake, Reed silently crept down the hallway and into the baement, taking each step carefully. Once he reached The Room, Reed paused infront of his mask and equipment. The mask wasn't colorful or distinct, a simple black mask that covered his face and his other clothes. Black tactical cargo pants with some body armor and such. He never had a taste for flashy outfits, even while many other vigilantes embraced it, he never found it interesting. He looked more like a commando than a hero. His hands clasped the mask and set it on the long table. What am I doing? I should stop! But he found himself putting on the black pants and shirt, it felt familiar, like a second skin. The material was light but quite durable and could berath through it. The boots came on next, tough with steel toes but still light, save the steel. He put the braces over his forearms for the bow and donned the mask, finally tieing a black bandana around his head. He stepped in front of the mirror, looking into himself...

Foxfire stopped outside a home. He was running out of money, and, unfortently he had to steal to support himself. He entered though the back door, easily disabling the security alarm and picking the lock. He entered, all was quiet and dark. He crept forward. Time to find some cash and valubles...
OOC: Kulikovia, I'm in your house

In the mirror, Reed observed himself in the outfit. Almost ten years past since he last wore the outfit...ten long years. The suit was a bit tight but for the most part, it fit just as it did all those years ago. An insane thought entered his mind. For a brief flicker, the notion of going back out onto the streets tonight passed through. Nonsense! If he was caught or taped, he could face a heafty fine and a prison sentence. There were plenty of vigilantes still rotting in prison. Quickly, he pushed the thought from his mind and shook his head, emvarassed from standing in his basement, wearing a costume, reliving his past. So, Reed took off his outfir and put it neatly away. Now he was in his sleeveless undershirt and pajama bottoms and began to move to the stairs. Suddenly, he stopped. His senses picked up something stirring upstairs. An intruder! He thought about returning to The Room and retrieving his crowwbow but decided against that. Instead, he picked up a bat sitting in the corner his son uses and moved slowly up the stair, hunching down.
"Who's there?!" he demanded in the darkness of his living room.

OOC: Xiscapia, is your character a vigilante or what?

OOC: He knows about Vigilantes, his best friend in the world was one, he's kind of a anithero vigilante, not evil, not even bad, really, but generally not going to stick his neck out for anyone. He steals to live.
IC: Foxfire froze. Someone was coming up the stairs from the basement! He weighed his chances of knocking this guy out and continuing on his search for valubles to the chance of alerting someone. Finally Foxfire dodged into a side room and hoped that the man would simply think he was imagining things.

Reed heard the shuffling of feet and put his back to the wall and slowly slid along it to a room where he heard the noise come from. His heart beat faster and faster. Should I run back upstairs and call the cops? He wondered. His family was sound asleep upstairs, he'd do anything to protect them. So, he got right next to the opening of the door and peered around the corner, it was too dark to see but he could sense someone was in the room.
"Come out! I know you're in there. I'll call the cops!" he growled. It was clear that the thief wasn't going to come out so he gripped the bat and prepared to come in swinging but decided to wait.

Very slowly and carefully, Foxfire stepped out of the room with his hands up. "Okay, okay, you got me." said Foxfire, eyeing the bat in the man's hands. "Just let me go and you'll never see me again. Alright?"

Reed relaxed his muscles and sighed. It was just some guy, scared out of his mind. His grip on the bat loosened a bit but he remained cautious and vigilant.
"Just keep your hands where I can see them" he ordered and moved around to the side. Then, he decided to talk instead of smack him in the leg like he thought of doing.
"C'mon, what are you doing?" Reed asked.

Foxfire moved to the middle of the room. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm trying to find money and valubles to take away. Finances are kind of...struggling...lately."

Just some punk looking for some money. Reed breathed a sigh of relief. He always feared for his family. Back when he was a masked vigilante, the struggle to keep his identity a seceret and protecting the ones he loved the most was daily. If his enemies ever discovered his true identity, then it would be only a matter of time before they got to his family.
"Just get out of here and I won't call the cops" Reed told the young man as he stepped back a few feet.

OOC: Rastorian Syndicate, sorry that I keep RP your hits, but there's not much my guy can do until he has a lead to figure out who's trying to kill him and why.
IC: "Alright, I'm leaving." Foxfire said, backing away. "You'll never see me-" Suddenly the window behind Foxfire exploded in a shower of glass, folllowed by gunfire from an automatic weapon. Cursing the fact that he did not bring any weapons with him, Foxfire dove behind a thick wooden table.

OOC: I don’t know how my hit men could suddenly appear at Reed’s house without some serious preplanning and knowledge of it’s location but here is my attempt to make some logical sense out of this situation….


IC:


Santini remained on the phone for several hours, using every contact and nearly every favor people owed him. The snitches were unusually quiet on the wire after th hit on the murder of the family. The news, however; was quite vocal. There was an outcry against this senseless killing of an entire family. There were plenty of crimes everyday, but one such as this didn't happen very often. He grumbled as he set the receiver down and cracked his neck, loosening the muscles which became stiff.
"Take off, Danny. Go home" a familiar voice begged. It was Gardner who wobbled over to a chair and eased himself into it. Santini rubbed his rough face and sat back, turning the chair to face Gardner.
"No, I still have some work to do" Santini replied, wearily. Gardner leaned forward in his chair and adjusted his seating.
"Listen, Danny...staying late ain't gonna crack this case. We'll pick it up tomorrow" Santini raised an eyebrow. Why was Gardner being so dismissive about all this? It pained Santini to see Gardner become what he did. They both graduated the academy together and joined the force as two green yet optimistic police officers out to do some good. Sadly, the years wore on against the two of them, wearing them down, dulling their enthusiasm. Gardner changed the most dramatically while Santini managed to retain some of his old beliefs. His faith was tested everyday as the cases just piled on and on.
"Maybe you're right" Santini admitted, feeling a tad defeated. "There's always tomorrow" he smiled. Gardner smiled and managed out of the chair and the two walked out of the police station. Santini produced a cigarette and lighter. Puffs of smoke danced in the air as he watched the cigarette burn away after each drag. He suddenly coughed violently then recovered.
"Are you alright?" Gardner inquired.
"I-I'm fine" Santini waved it off and went to his car and drove home in the night.

He lived in an apartment, descent in size and comfortable enough. He was alone in the apartment as he shuffled in the hallway, flipping on a light and dropping his bag. In the kitchen he prepared a frozen dinner, too tired to make a real meal. He sat at the table, the other three chairs empty. It's been three years since the divorce and Santini moved out. His marriage to Jenny started off great but over the years began to wear down, his job, her job, and finally the kids created a rift between the two of them. The two became more and more distant until one day when Santini found himself at a bar, drinking with a female patrol officer. They were drunk and in their minds, had a lot in common and the next morning, Santini woke up next to her. Guilt drove him to tell Jenny who demanded a divorce the day after. She kept the house and the kids and Santini moved to the apartment.

New York…..

The Guild had been prospering in this time of corruption and organized violence. The lack of vigilante justice had allowed the Guild and it’s Legions of street thugs to use their brutal methods with little to no fear of public retribution while the bureaucratic and overburdened police department was stuck dealing with the mess that these tactics left behind. This massive scenario of dealing with the massive criminal problems of New York had broken many of these once fine and idealistic officers and eventually many of them turned dirty.


These corrupt detectives and patrol officers would often receive very lucrative bribes or graft from the Guild to look away during heists and shakedowns or to plant fake evidence on rival criminal organizations. This relationship had been going on for roughly four long arduous years. The Guild would often use their labor connections to send a Union rep to the home of these people and give them the offer and the request.

This time the Guild wanted to make the Regermen hit disappear from public record and to achieve this objective. The Guild sent in their best middle man to talk to detective Santini. “Black” Jack Connelly and three of his thugs were waiting for the detective at the entrance of his apartment. They were all armed with 9mm pistols hidden inside gun holsters covered over by their black bomber jackets.

If anyone looked into the hallway that lead to Santini’s apartment they would see a very odd sight of four guys dressed almost in a uniform like style clothing of black sunglasses with black leather jackets with gloved hands. It was obvious they were dressed to intimidate Santini to accepting his take of the graft rather than being defiant about serving the law.

If he refused to accept the bribe Jack would have to try and kill Santini to avoid being charged with attempting of bribing an officer and possibly bring more heat down on the Guild and it’s membership..

Black Jack and his crew waited as they saw Santini’s car heading towards the parking lot via the upper story window….







OOC: Rastorian Syndicate, sorry that I keep RP your hits, but there's not much my guy can do until he has a lead to figure out who's trying to kill him and why.
IC: "Alright, I'm leaving." Foxfire said, backing away. "You'll never see me-" Suddenly the window behind Foxfire exploded in a shower of glass, folllowed by gunfire from an automatic weapon. Cursing the fact that he did not bring any weapons with him, Foxfire dove behind a thick wooden table.









Philadelphia

Dennis Holderman, Charlie Barrett, and Michael Sheinberg were three official Guildsmen that had been assigned the job of whacking the failed contract killers that missed out in the hit on Foxfire and his Vigilante friends.

Dennis a minor Union rep within the worker’s Union had come down to the police station and demanded to see his clients, The three associate contract killers. The cops at the station were forced to hand over the criminals to Dennis and his friends when the bail money was paid. This hit had cost the Guild over 75,000 dollars for the three men that had failed at their job.

Denis and his buddies Charlie and Michael took the three contract killers to the country to have them whacked in private. The contract killers were told that they were being briefed on their next targets and that they had a strike on their record with the Guild for this huge screw up.

The contract killers were not given any weapons and so far suspected nothing until they entered the farm and were quickly beaten to submission and carried into a secluded barn. The Guildsmen shot the three contract killers in an execution like manner with their AK-47 assault rifles. Dennis decided to hide the bodies in the hay loft in the upper reaches of the barn. The contract killers would probably be missing for several weeks before someone noticed them up their from the carrion smell and the fact that the barn was really filthy and unkempt by even the least hygienic standards.

The bail would be up long before the bodies would be discovered, but Dennis had quickly figured that he and Charlie and Michael could probably whack Vigilantes before the cops came after them for supposingly letting three contract killers perform a bail jump before their official trial….


The crew quickly started a long search for anyone that matched the descriptions of Foxfire because his appearance was the most well known to the Guild for his past criminal actions of break-in burglaries and stealing from local shops to feed himself and acquire money to survive during these tough times.


Dennis managed to finally get enough information on Foxfire thanks to the local pawnshops and money lending institutions to begin looking for him on the streets. This whole process took about two weeks and the crew was pressed for time before the cops would start hunting for them. Dennis and his men were antsy to get back to New York in the safety of Guild controlled territory….


Then all of a sudden during a night cruise down a local neighborhood, Foxfire was spotted inside a nice looking house. It seemed he had been caught during his little night work because the other guy had a baseball bat and looked like he was going to do the job himself.

Charlie and Michael gripped their AK-47 rifles and took aim from the shotgun and left rear door window positions . Dennis slowed his car to a crawl and ordered his men to fire in the hopes that their combined firepower would waste him before he had a chance to get away from his adversary with the bat.

The bullets came out wild and inaccurate but there was a lot of them and they were going full auto at the window destroying it and punching holes into the wall. Michael the youngest Guildsmen and least experienced in it’s skill of secretive ways yells out in a show of foolish bravado, “The Guild sends it regards!” and suddenly more shots were fired at the spot Foxfire was at about a few seconds ago….

Dennis quickly hit’s the gas sends the car shooting away from the neighborhood. The shooting would look like a gang drive by and so the guildsmen quickly tried to distance themselves from the scene of the crime to avoid bring authorities upon themselves…….

Before Reed could ask anymore questions, the small room exploded in gunfire. Bullets ripped through the walls, sending pieces of dry wall into the air as Reed instincively hit the ground, hugging the hard wood floor as the rain of bullets continued. What the hell is going on?! Fear and anger filled his heart at the thought that his family was so close and these men didn't care. Flashbacks of the war and his career as a vigilante popped into his mind which raced for answers and a solution to this currrent problem. This stranger brought nothing but trouble. One of the gunman yelled out something, The Guild? Reed heard about The Guild, but mostly rumors. He could hardly think about them at the moment as the hail of bullets ceased and the car screeched off.

The older man sprung to his feet and peered outside to see nothing but the street lamps illuminating the streets. Amy! The kids! He thought and darted up the stairs and into the bedroom to see Amy and her arms wrapped around their children, protecting them and sheltering them. Laura was crying.
"Is everyone alright?!" Reed asked, halting in the doorway. Amy nodded, looking up to her husband. Satisfied, Reed dashed back down the stairs and into the room, broken glass and debris scattering the ground, the stranger still in the room. Fueled with rage, Reed charged and wrapped a hand around his neck and slammed the stranger into the wall, gripping his throat tight.
"If you struggle, I'll kill you!" Reed barked. "Now, who are you and why were those men shooting at my house where my family lives!" his voice was more aggressive.

Meanwhile...

After a long and lonely drive home through the deserted streets, Santini entered the parking garage opposite his apartment building. It was dark out and there were numerous vehicls parked for the nights. He stepped out and sighed as he moved towards the elevator and took it up to his floor. The hallway was long and plain with doors on each side. Santini walked casually down the hallway and towards his apartment and a good night's rest.

Jessica sat at her work table in her apartment. In her bedroom, there was a bookcase filled with classical novels which actually doubled as a secret door to another room, her private work room. It was filled with equipmeny, skematics posted on walls and equations. For over a year she planned and patiently worked on her own litte project, thanks to equiment she scavanged from her job. Despite numerous setbacks and trials, her conviction and determination remained unmoved. Her resolve to do good in today's world kept her going. She was on a mission and nothing would get in her way. There were white paint cans in the room as well, for the final touch. She connected wires and fine tuned some connections and worked on electronic outputs and readers. It was very complicated and delicate work she was doing. She brought her hand to her forhead and wiped away some sweat. It was hot in the room. The plating was composed of a special compund, flexable and light yet durable. As she turned the screws on one section, her hand slipped and sliced against an edge of the plate.
"Dammit!" she cursed, bringing her hand up to her chest and standing up. The work at time, she admited, was frustrating. Regardless, she never gave up but decided to take a break. She focused on the pain. Don't fight it, embrace it! Jessica fought past the pain and accepted the reality that if she went ahead with her misson, she would endure far worse pains.

"Garrgh!" grunted Foxfire as Reed grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. He groaned. "Don't...know...Guild...hitmen...kill me...attacked..."he motioned for Reed to let go of him, black spots bursting in front of his eyes from not getting enough air.

His hand gripped hard around the young man's throat. Rage burned within him, part of Reed wanted to snap his neck and be done with it while the cooler side wanted to let him go. Reed raised the man off the ground, sliding him up the wall as he watched the man struggle for breathe. Finally, his vice grip released and the young man falled to the ground, coughing, struggling to breath again.
"You're telling me you don't know why they are trying to kill you?!" Reed fumed "There's always a reason"

Foxfire gagged on the floor, coughing. He finally regained enough air and strength. "I...have no idea...why." he gasped, his heart pounding. "I knew a Vigilante once, but he's dead now. They've tryed to kill me before. Perhaps it's something to do with my stealing. I'm...sorry I put you and you're family in danger. It was not my intention." Foxfire looked up at the man. "What is your name, anyway?"

"My name is David" the older man finally said, "That's all you need to know" he remained cautious of this unexpected and unwelcomed stranger who brought danger into his home and near his family. Knew a vigilante once? Reed began to think. Vigilantes are illegal and anyone who is one is a criminal in the eyes of the law. There's no way armed men would chase him just for knowing a vigilante.
"Who was this vigilante?" Reed asked, stepping back.

"His name was Chan." said Foxfire, standing now. "Chan Wong. He ran a convenience store down the street from my house when I was a kid. He was very kind to me, and I never suspected that he was anything more then a kindly old Chinese man. Until one night, armed robbers broke into his store. He tried to stop them, but was shot. They broke and ran, but the damage was done. I was the first one there, climbing though a broken window. In his last moments of life, he revealed that he was a Vigilante. Thiough the people no longer wanted his help, he continued, risking be caught and imprisoned, and maybe even killed. He past the tortch on to me and gave me this. Lot of good I did." Foxfire said with a grim laugh, holding out his hand. On it glimmered a small ring, with a single, unadorned sapphire in the middle. It would likely be worth much, as the sapphire was finely cut, the ring's metal shiny and clean. On the inside of the ring, of the back, was carved a single letter.
V.

Upstairs, Amy and her children continued to hide in the bedroom, sensing the danger was over, she reached over for the phone and dialed the police, all the while comforting her children.

Reed nodded and relaxed a but more, now he let the bat swing down parallel to his leg. The story was interesting, though he never heard of a Chan Wong. The ring looked quite nice.
"Okay, but that doesn't really help me understand why you're being chased. Did you become a vigilante?" Reed asked quietly.

"I tried. I joined the police SWAT, to try and use my abilities to fight crime. It was corrupt, though, and I got kicked out of the force. I tried to contact Vigilantes, but I had no way of knowing who was still out there or who to contact them. But that was about a year ago, and I've never stayed in the same place for more than a week. I don't know who is trying to kill me or why, just because I tried to fight crime. I'm not a threat to anyone anymore."

"You obviously are a threat to someone" Reed managed. He still felt angered and the situation wasn't going so well. This man was a mystery and he couldn't figure out what was going on or why anyone wanted to kill him.
"They don't just go killing anyone who is involved in law enforcement. Most of the police are corrupt or indifferent." there was a pause as Reed tried to collect his thoughts. In the distance, the familiar sound of police sirens broke the silence of night. The sound sgrew louder and louder as two squad cars approached.
"It's time you left" he said firmly.

OOC: His leg can't be trapped under a wooden table. My character lifte him off the ground then dropped him. Rastorian Syndicate needs to post soon.

OOC: Oh yeah...
IC: Foxfire nodded to the man and made a quick exit out the back door, stealing away into the night.

OOC: Sorry about my lack of response, Work has been really crazy for the last few days…

IC:

Sadly, Santini’s restful nights sleep was interrupted before it could begin. Black Jack and his men upon seeing the police detective immediately began to come up towards him blocking the entrance of his apartment. The third thug was positioned behind the door to block Santini from running out toward the car garage. The detective was surrounded and trapped just as Jack had planned this little meeting.

Jack causally walked up to Santini and said, “Listen, word on the street is that you have been looking into the Regermen case. I am hear to give you an offer you can’t refuse…”

The two thugs chuckled knowing the meaning was quite clear, Santini would either take the offer or be found on the streets with a bullet hole between the eyes. Black Jack gestured to his men and said, “Boys check him for weapons and escort him to our car we are going to take the good detective for a ride on the town…”

The two thugs approached Santini cautiously with weapons drawn to show their intent…

After running for a while to get away from the police, Foxfire stopped on a dimly lit street near an allie. A car was parked there. Looking around, Foxfire quietly picked the car's lock and opened the door. He did not expect to find what he did. Guns!? Oh no...How can I have such bad luck twice in one night? Foxfire slowly backed away from the car...
OOC: Rastorian Syndicate ,again, I'm sorry that I keep busting your posts, but I need something to keep me occupied in this thread. If you want me to delete my post, I will.

OOC: Are you saying that Foxfire somehow found the car that Dennis and his men were in or is this another car with guns inside? I need more information about what you just posted…

OOC: This is the car your guys have, and it has guns inside. He is assuming that guns=more thugs.

OOC: Not my best work but had to think on my feet…





IC:

The hit seemed successful as far as Dennis and his men Charlie and Michael were concerned and they had driven for several blocks and Charlie decided he wanted to get something to eat for the trip back home to New York. It seemed like a harmless request considering they were well out of the way of the police and they expected to hear about Foxfire’s death on the next news report in the morning. The three guildsmen had parked the car next to a dark alley and went inside the local grocery store to get some food. They were having some trouble with the clerk considering it was an old Chinese man that did not speak English very well.

Dennis was pissed and wanted to beat the old man to the ground and just take the food and money but this was not NYC and that kind of action could have serious repercussions considering this was Philadelphia. Dennis and his boys finally headed toward their vehicle and Dennis was to first to notice it was unlocked. That meant someone had tried to break into the car and that could be bad if they had tried to steal the guns or some of the cash hidden in the glove compartment. Dennis quickly ordered his men to grab their 9mm pistols and begin combing for the intruder with the orders to kill him….

OOC: That's okay, it's good, especially considering I keep jumping you with random posts. :p
IC: Foxfire tried to breath as little as possible. He was underneth the car, watching the feet of the thugs as they realised their car had been broken into. Foxfire had had only seconds warning before the men came out, and had dove under the car. They were all around the front of the car now. Foxfire slowly eased out from under the back of the car, praying they did not see him...

OOC: Xiscapia: I suggest that Foxfire run as fast as he can….


IC:

Dennis and his goons were busy trying to fan out and find the intruder. They started walking from the front of the car towards the dark alley figuring that any would be thief would try and hide in there to avoid being caught by the owner of the car. It did not even come into their minds that the car thief might just hide underneath the car and as such failed to even search down there.

This gave Foxfire an advantage as he tried to slide out from the back of the car. He might have gotten away if Dennis and his men had not been listening for any unusual sounds as they marched towards the Alley. Dennis had managed to pick up the sound of scrapping sounds on the pavement as Foxfire slid out and he yelled, “I hear something let’s get back to the car!”

The three guildsmen rushed to their car to hopefully get the would be car thief….

Shit! Shitshitshitshit! These lovely thoughts were running though Foxfire's mind as the thugs ran towards him. They had guns, and a car. There were three of them. He had no weapon. He was alone, and on foot. He ran for it, down the alley, expecting to hear bullets fly at him and bite into his back at any time...

OOC: Okay, Foxfire is probably going to suffer several gunshot wounds but luckily they could not make an accurate kill shot. I would say that his legs and some of his back are going to have very lovely bullet hole marks…

IC:

Right on cue the sound of gunshots could be heard as the three guildsmen started to fire into the alley in the direction that Foxfire had run. The close range meant that even the 9mm pistols were well within the range needed to hit the running kid in the back and as predicted some of the bullets would hit the target. The only problem was that the alley was dark and thus the Guildsmen had a hard time seeing their fleeing target running into the shadows and they had to hope that their shots killed him as they saw Foxfire fell down on to the cold unforgiving ground…

Dennis grinned as the car thief fell onto the hard pavement of the alley, The three Guildsmen started to laugh and one of them tossed his cigarette onto the ground near the street and they all headed to their waiting car still jeering about how they whacked that stupid kid that tried to steal their car never knowing that he was their actual target from the first hit…

Foxfire lay bleeding on the pavement. Two gunshot wounds to his left leg, and a graze to his right side. The graze was a mere fleshwound, but one of the leg bullets felt like it had broken his leg, maybe cracked his kneecap when he went down. Aside from these, he was unharmed, but he was in a dark alley, in the middle of the night, immobilized, bleeding, with cops and thugs alike after him. Not good. After taking stock, Foxfire decided to lay low until the thugs were gone (not that he had any choice) and see how far he could get. If he could just get back to his van a few blocks away he could atleast patch himself up until he could recieve real medical attention. Foxfire put his head down and pretended to be dead.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind the weary detective. They were approaching fast and his instincts kicked in. Santini wheeled around to see three men appraoching with determine dfaces and powerful frames. Their weapons were already drawn and Santini wouldn't have enough time to draw his .38 on his ankle holster. So, he set down his briefcase and opened his arms up, without raising them above his waist. The man in the middle spoke words which chilled his spine. His heart raced with adrenaline.
"I guess I have no choice wether I want to come with you or not" Santini muttered as the two large thungs clamped on his arms and forced him into the parking garage and into a car. The Regerman Case? These men have to be with The Guild! His suspecions were confirmed when he mentioned an offer.
"On my right anlke in a holster is a .38" he warned.

IC:

Dennis upon entering the car with his two associates realized that he had failed to have one of his men confirm that the car thief was dead for certain. The experienced Guildsmen was about to give the orders to have his men finish the job but suddenly the sound of sirens could be heard.

It seemed the grocery clerk had called the cops after hearing the gunshots inside the alley. The three guildsmen decided to get the heck out of dodge before the police got here to investigate the shooting. Dennis grinned figuring that the car thief would probably be dead or bleed to death before any emergency help could arrive. This thought made Dennis smile and he began to drive off leaving the wounded Foxfire to lay in the alley……


*******************************************************************************

Santini was coverd by two of the thugs while “Black” Jack Connelly went for the .38 with the intent of removing it and most likely keeping it during the meeting. The last thing that Black Jack needed was an armed detective during a negoation. Jack continues to add as the car begins to drive out of the garage, “Detective Santini, I am afraid to say this but you have been investigating a case that is going to be either dismissed or allowed to be safely left in the cold case files peremantly.” Jack was sure to emphasize the meaning of the word peremantly in his little speech.

The fearsome guild enforcer also began to add, “Mr. Regermen’s shop was in a dangerous neigborhood that was full of dangerous hoods. It is obvious that the local street gangs decided to stick up the grocery store and during the heist. The gas line leaked and the gunshots set off the gas killing all the occupants including the robbers.

You see dectective the bodies were not Mr. Regermen’s family but the copses of several street hoods found dead in the store. The media will be told of this information and the rest of the police deparment is also going to validate this story. We just need you to say this and never ever mention the truth to anyone. If you do this favor for my employers they are willing to help you with a favor in return.”

Jack let that offer hang for a while waiting for Santini to reply to this generous sounding offer….

Foxfire heard the car drive off. He also heard sirens. He began to get up, but his wounded leg wouldn't support him. He sat back down with a groan. Fuck. Foxfire stared stupidly at his bleeding leg. Apply pressure to the wound. Right. Foxfire tore his shirt sleeve into strips and began to bind them around the bullet holes in his leg to stem the flow of blood. Foxfire began to feel dizzy. He lay back down. The pain was more removed now, like he was feeling it from a distance. Foxfire saw lights and heard voices. Then his eyes closed and he fell into infinite darkness.
OOC: Thanks for RPing so well. He's not dead, but hurt pretty bad.