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kcnrqz · 8 months

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TRUE CRIME YOUTUBE SCRIPT

THE CLASSIFIED ADS RAPIST: The Story of Serial Killer and Rapist Bobby Joe Long

Before the age of advertising in social media, the classified ads in the newspaper was the place to sell products or services. But in the 1980s, one man used the classified ads to find his victims.

Hi! Welcome to my channel, where we delve deep into some of the most notorious crimes in the history of Florida. If you're new here, I'm Jamine Fields, and today, we're going to take a closer look at the life and crimes of Bobby Joe Long, also known as the Classified Ads Rapist.

Robert Joseph Long, more commonly known as Bobby Joe, was born on October 14, 1953, in Kenova, West Virginia, to Joe and Louella Long. He was born with an extra X chromosome, which causes excessive estrogen production and some female traits. When he was 13, he developed breasts and was heavily bullied because of this.

His parents divorced and he moved to Florida with Louella, sharing a house with several of his aunts and cousins. Louella began to work two jobs as a waitress and bartender and Bobby Joe felt ashamed that his mother wore sexy clothing. He became verbally abusive towards Louella.

In 1966, 13-year-old Bobby Joe shot their dog in the vagina and killed it because he claimed that Louella fed the dog better food.

He then met Cynthia Bartlett in high school the same year. In 1972, he enlisted in the army and was stationed in Homestead Airforce Base in Florida. He married Cynthia at the Airforce Base chapel in January 1974. They had two children, a son and a daughter.

He was in a motorcycle accident a month later and suffered serious injuries. It was thought that because of the accident, his sex drive increased. Hospital nurses noted that he masturbated five to six times a day.

In August 1974, he was discharged from the army due to medical reasons. Because of that, Bobby Joe had a lot of free time, so this was when he used classified newspaper ads to find women who could satisfy his insatiable sexual appetite. He raped possibly as many as 50 women, terrorizing Dade County, Fort Lauderdale, Miami, Ocala, and Tampa Bay area.

In June 1980, Cynthia filed for divorce because their relationship had become very abusive. He then moves in with two of his friends to be able to split rent.

In October 1981, Bobby Joe's housemate Susan Replogle accused him of rape, but the police lacked sufficient evidence to file a charge. He was later found guilty of the assault counts in September 1983. This infuriated Bobby Joe, who then demanded a fresh trial in a string of letters to the court.

Then, in November 1983, he was accused of sending a 12-year-old Tampa girl offensive letters and photos. He was sentenced to two days in jail and six months of probation after authorities tracked the phone calls he had made to the 12-year-old.

In early 1984, Bobby Joe Long was found not guilty of the assault counts at his retrial despite the testimony of several witnesses against him.

While he was on probation, his murderous spree began. On March 27, 1984, he came across 20-year-old Artiss Wick. His initial plan was to rape Artiss, but that did not satisfy him, so he strangled her to death. The discovery of Artiss' remains didn't occur until November 22, 1984 after his arrest.

The second victim of Bobby Joe was a 20-year-old Laotian immigrant named Ngeun Thi Long, AKA Lana Long. Lana was an exotic dancer in the Sly Fox nightclub. One evening, Bobby Joe offered her a lift. When she accepted, he forced her to get naked, bound her hands behind her back, and forced her to lie face down on the seat after he drove her to the woods. He used a rope to strangle her, then dumped her body nearby.

On May 13, 1984, two teenage boys were going through a field near I-75 when they smelled something foul and found the disfigured remains of Lana, naked. It has been there for three days, covered with maggots, making it challenging to identify. Her legs were broken at the hips at a 90-degree angle.

Bobby Joe’s next victim was Michelle Denise Simms, 22 years old, a sex worker. Michelle was stopped by Bobby Joe along Kennedy Boulevard in Tampa. After luring her into his car, he then took Michelle to Park Road where he forced her to undress, bound her hands behind her back, and made a noose out of rope, then put it on her neck. He raped her and attempted to strangle her after. When she resisted, he took out a knife and repeatedly stabbed Michelle’s throat.

Fourteen days after finding Lana’s body, Michelle’s body was discovered lying on the ground with the rope still wrapped around her neck. Her bloody clothes, red fibers, human hair, a bare footprint, tire tracks, and semen were also found at the scene.

On June 8, 1984, Bobby Joe murdered Elizabeth Loudenback, 22 years old, a factory worker. Elizabeth was walking home to Village Mobile Home Park in the late afternoon, when Bobby Joe offered her a ride and she accepted. He then tied her up and raped her on gunpoint. He then took her to an orange orchard near Brandon. After raping her again, he ordered her to dress up and decided to let her go. But Bobby Joe strangled her after hearing her constant sobbing.

Elizabeth’s body was thrown into the bushes. Her body was found on June 24, fully clothed, and in an advanced stage of decomposition.

During this time, there were still continuous reports from victims of the Classified Ads Rapist.

After a three-month hiatus on his murder spree, he struck again on September 7, 1984. Vicky Elliott, 21, manager at a Ramada Inn coffee shop, was reported missing by her employer after not reporting for work. Vicky accepted Bobby Joe’s offer for a ride. He tried to tie her up but she resisted with a pair of scissors. He became enraged by this and strangled her.

Vicky was not found until after Bobby Joe’s arrest. Her body was located on November 16 using the map that he provided. The scissors were discovered in the area that would have been the vaginal canal. She was positively identified based on her dental records. They also discovered red fibers that unmistakably connected her to Bobby Joe.

Bobby Joe’s sixth victim was 18-year-old Chanel Devon Williams. She was last seen on the night of September 30,1984, by a fellow sex worker. Chanel was picked up by Bobby Joe, beaten, made to strip off her clothes, had her wrists tied behind her back, and was made to lie face down on the reclined front seat of his car. Then, he raped her from behind. He attempted to strangle Chanel but she fought for her life. She was shot once in the back of the head.

On October 7, Chanel’s naked body was found adjacent to a cattle ranch's dirt access road, not far from the Hillsborough County line.

When the homicide investigators arrived at the scene where Chanel was discovered, they started looking for connections to the earlier homicides. But there were no other obvious connections other than the fact that she was a sex worker and the victim was discovered naked in a rural region.

On October 14, 1984, Bobby Joe’s 31st birthday, 28-year-old Karen Beth Dinsfriend's body, nude from the waist down, was found in an orange grove in Hillsborough County, her feet bound with a drawstring. She had been strangled and hit on the forehead. Karen was also a sex worker in the area of Nebraska and Hillsborough Avenues and was last seen alive earlier that morning.

The detectives had a strong suspicion that Karen's death was connected to the earlier homicides when they arrived at the scene. The crime scenes of Chanel and Karen both had brown pubic hairs that were identified to belong to a Caucasian male.

On October 30, 1984, a nude mummified body of another female was found in a ditch in northern Hillsborough County by a 71-year-old man clearing the area. Given the terrible level of decomposition at the crime scene, the investigating officers really didn't have much to look at because it was impossible to determine the time and cause of death.

She wasn’t identified until Bobby Joe was already in detention. She was Kimberly Kyle Hopps, 22 years old, also a sex worker. He admitted that he had strangled her using the black choker that she wore. Kimberly was last seen by her boyfriend on October 7, the same day that Chanel’s body was found.

On November 3, 1984, Bobby Joe kidnapped 17-year-old Lisa McVey. Lisa was riding her bicycle home from work when Bobby Joe abducted and tied her up. She was thrown into his car after blindfolding her. He ordered her to strip off in his car and perform oral sex while he drove back to his apartment.

In his apartment, he took her with him to the shower, blow-dried her hair, and made her a ham sandwich, things he never did to his prior victims. He even took the bullets out of his gun so he wouldn't "feel driven" to kill her. After raping her for 26 hours, Bobby Joe released Lisa.

Lisa immediately went to the police and told them significant information which would eventually lead to Bobby Joe’s arrest. Unfortunately, Lisa wouldn’t be the last victim.

On November 6, 1984, a ranch owner found the body of another woman in Pasco County. Authorities determined the victim had been dead for almost two weeks. Over a piece of cloth, a 9-inch cord was double-tied around the neck, and the wrists were bound by a shoelace. After autopsy, the cause of death was determined to be strangulation. She was later identified as 18-year-old Tampa Strip sex worker Virginia Lee Johnson after Bobby Joe was caught.

On November 12, a sign painter found another body, having severe rope burns on its wrists and a leash around its neck. The legs had been pulled open in a horrifying sexual display, and the face was nearly unrecognizably battered. The victim was Kim Marie Swann, 21, and like Lana, was also a dancer at the Sly Fox Lounge. Forensic analysis revealed that the cause of death was strangulation.

The next day, the FBI Laboratory confirmed that the red fibers on Lisa McVey's clothes matched the ones from the other victims. On November 15, Bobby Joe was pulled over because his car matched the description provided by Lisa, dark red two-door Dodge Magnum with a red steering wheel and dashboard, and white seats and interiors. Police took his picture and freed him after failing to connect him to any concrete evidence, but put him under surveillance. They then got a warrant for his car and an arrest warrant on the charges of kidnapping and sexual battery.

On November 16, 1984, Bobby Joe Long was finally arrested. Detectives took a sample from his car’s carpet and the red fibers were confirmed to be a match. In his apartment, they also found Lisa's hair clip, which Lisa dropped when she was abducted to prove she was there. Numerous pictures of naked women were discovered, as well as pictures that he took of himself raping several victims.

Bobby Joe pled guilty on September 24, 1985, to eight of the homicides and the abduction and rape of Lisa McVey, receiving four 99-year and 28 life sentences and the death penalty.

On May 23, 2019, 3 decades after his conviction, he was executed by lethal injection. His last meal was roast beef, bacon, french fries, and soda. He was pronounced dead at 7 PM local time.

And that, my dear viewers, is the story of the Classified Ads Rapist Bobby Joe Long.

If you liked this episode, please don't forget to hit the like and subscribe button. See you again next episode for more stories where we delve deep into the true crime world.

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wintervvidow · 3 years

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apricity pt. three

apricity - the warmth of the sun in winter

warnings: angst, vomit mention, violence

pairing: bucky barnes x female oc

word count: 4,200

A/N: this is a bit of a filler chapter yet still very important! I did have to use google translate for the Russian, so if it is incorrect, please let me know and I'm very sorry if it is! Thank you 💕

MASTERLIST

“Я готов отвечить.” ( Ready to comply.)

The December air was cold as it blew through Florence’s hair, her arms circling Bucky’s waist as they rode down the dark road on Bucky’s motorcycle. The soldier steered with one arm, free hand coming down to rub circles on the redhead’s calf as they pulled behind a cluster of trees, hiding them from onlookers as they waited. The pair of assassins were unthawed and reset only hours ago, immediately given their latest mission.

A car came into view, red tail lights illuminating the air around them. Bucky flipped the bike’s headlight on and pulled onto the road again. The soldier revved the bike, catching up to the side of the vehicle as Florence sunk her butterfly knife into the tire, causing the car to swerve off the road and crash into a building.

Bucky parked the bike ahead of the crash, Florence stepping off the bike, Bucky behind her, and approaching the car. She flipped open the trunk to reveal a large silver briefcase, opening it to see five bags of blue liquid; exactly what they were looking for.

This was the last mission the Winter Soldier and the Winter Widow would ever go on.

Florence bolted up in the cheap hotel bed, Bucky’s screams reverbing in her brain. HYDRA always made her watch when Bucky was reprogrammed, a way to keep Florence in line and remind her who she was; just a puppet.

The last mission was always a common nightmare in the rotation of dreams Florence had, continuously taunting her. She disappeared only two weeks after it, abandoning everything she had grown accustomed to and the only person she had ever loved.

Florence couldn't go back to sleep, instead deciding on making herself coffee, the microwave clock mocking her, 4:34 a.m. She sipped her coffee slowly at the small kitchenette table, patiently waiting to start her day as she watched the clock tick away until it became 6:30 a.m., a reasonable enough hour to be awake for Steve to not worry.

The team was in Lagos, following a lead on Brock Rumlow, who had been causing quite the headache in the past few months, this time his target was deadly weapons from the Institute For Infectious Diseases.

Florence and Natasha sat across from each other listening to Steve and Wanda Maximoff converse about their surroundings through their earpieces, doing their best to remain anonymous and still get the intel under the hot noon sun.

“You see that Range Rover halfway up the block?” Steve asked Wanda as she fiddled with the sugar packet in her hand.

“Yeah, the red one? It’s cute.”

“It’s also bulletproof, which means private security, which means more guns...which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us.” Florence smirked at Natasha’s response as she took a sip of her coffee, savoring the caffeine.

Wanda chirped back through her radio, ‘You guys know I can move things with my mind, right?”

Florence glanced at Wanda across the cafe, “Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature.”

Sam’s voice floated through their earpieces from the rooftop above, “Anybody ever told you two you’re a little paranoid?”

The two redheads shared a knowing look with small smirks adorning their faces, “Not to either of our faces. Why? Did you hear something?” Florence’s tone was light, but both she and Natasha knew the darkness behind it; the Red Room made them that way.

Steve, ever the serious man, refocused the small group, “Eyes on target, folks. This is the best lead we’ve had on Rumlow in six months. I don’t want to lose him.”

Sam scoffed in the mic, “If he sees us coming, that won’t be a problem. He kind of hates us.”

There was a pause in time before Steve spoke, “Sam, see that garbage truck? Tag it.” Sam deployed Redwing, giving Sam and the team the information they needed, “That truck’s loaded for max weight. And the driver’s armed.”

Natasha glanced at Florence, the pair not too thrilled to be dealing with this particular situation, “It’s a battering ram.”

“Go now.”

Wanda questioned Steve into her mic, the tension had just risen significantly.

“He’s not hitting the police.”

The team scattered, Steve, Wanda, and Sam going after Rumlow while Florence and Natasha were both on motorcycles racing down the street.

“Rumlow has a biological weapon.”

Natasha revved her bike, “I’m on it.” The redhead purposely crashed her bike, flinging it into an armed guard. Florence ditched her bike, joining Natasha in the fight.

A guard swung at Florence, missing his target as she ducked and swept his feet from underneath the attacker. Natasha took down two more guards while Florence took down three more, tossing the last guard on the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Florence and Natasha were attacked by Rumlow, neither of the two women able to effectively take him down. The two were shoved into a tank, Rumlow dropping a bomb in before latching the door closed. They surveyed their surroundings quickly; two guards with guns aiming at them. Florence kicked one unconscious while Natasha grabbed the other guard and used him as a human shield when the grenade exploded, grabbing Florence on the way down.

Black smoke filled the air, the smell of fire making it hard to breathe, sending the pair of assassins into a coughing fit on the ground. Looking up, they could see Steve being blown back into the building by an explosion, their ears ringing from the volume. Steve sent Sam after Rumlow, who was in an AFV heading north.

Natasha relocated the ditched bike and got on, pulling Florence behind her. The younger assassin revved the bike as they entered the street, Florence holding onto her.

Sam called out the offenders, clocking four of them splitting up.

Natasha stopped the bike and looked at Florence before splitting up, “I got the two on the left, you take the right.”

Florence sprinted down the busy street, dodging and weaving the crowd. Her targets came into view ahead of her, the girl sent a throwing star their way, effectively knocking him to the ground with no way to run. The girl grabbed the man, searching the bag furiously, trying to locate the weapon, “It’s not here!” Sam replied back, not having the weapon either.

Natasha called over the mic, “I have it.” Florence sighed in relief, moving to meet back up with the team.

She came upon Steve, who had Rumlow on the ground in front of him. She approached the scene cautiously, listening to the exchange.

“You know, he knew you and that redhead, Florence. Your pal, your buddy, your Bucky.” Rumlow whispered tauntingly at Steve.

Florence approached from behind, grabbing Rumlow’s hair and yanking him back, putting a knife to his throat, “What did you say?” The flip switched in Florence’s brain at the mention of Bucky, nothing else mattering anymore. She didn’t care that people were probably filming her with a knife to someone’s throat, and Steve made no move to stop her.

The disfigured man laughed as the knife dug deeper against his neck, staring up at Florence, “He remembered you. I was there. He got all weepy about it. Always screaming about you.” He then looked at Steve, “Till they put his brain back in a blender. He wanted you to know something. He said to me, ‘Please tell Rogers. When you gotta go, you gotta go.’ And you’re coming with me.” Rumlow’s thumb pressed a detonation device, Florence and Steve noticing it at the same time.

Wanda was behind them, containing the explosion of fire with her powers, keeping Steve and Florence from becoming red mist. The newest member sent Rumlow up and into the building in front of them. The building went up in flames, the leftover gasses from Rumlow’s bombs reacting to the fire and exploding. The bystanders screamed and ran as Wanda looked on in horror at what she had just done, hand clamping over her face.

Florence gently guided the girl away from the scene, “Hey, come one. We have to go, this isn’t on you, okay?”

Behind them, Steve called for Sam to request Fire & Rescue before he took off to go save people from the building, leaving Florence to console the distraught brunette.

A month later, the team was back at the Avengers Compound, Florence sitting with Steve as they watched the news.

“Eleven Wakandans were among those killed during a confrontation between the Avengers and a group of mercenaries in Lagos, Nigeria last month. The traditionally reclusive Wakandans were on an outreach mission in Lagos, when the attack occurred.”

The TV switched to show King T’Chacka of Wakanda’s speech:

“Our people’s blood is spilled on foreign soil, not only because of the actions of criminals, ut by the indifference of those pledged to stop them. Victory at the expense of the innocent is no victory at all.”

Steve turned the TV off, the only other sound in the compound coming from Wanda’s TV in her room. Florence got up to go speak to the girl before Steve stopped her, “I’ll go.” Steve and Wanda were taking the Lagos incident the hardest, both blaming themselves. The mention of Bucky had made both Florence and Steve freeze until it was too late, leaving Wanda to deal with the bomb that now plagues her consciousness. Florence watched as Steve walked off until he wasn’t visible anymore for her to turn on her heel to head to the kitchen.

The redhead was in dire need of coffee, the cup she had that morning had worn off. The nightmares amplified after Rumlow’s supposed confession about Bucky, the girl had hardly slept more than two hours a night. When she did sleep it was restless, nightmares of Bucky haunting every corner of her mind. She managed to make it through half her mug before she was called downstairs for a meeting with Tony and the Secretary of State.

Secretary Ross sighed heavily as he stood at the head of the table of Avengers as he mimicked his golf swing, “Five years ago, I had a heart attack and dropped right in the middle of my backswing. Turned out it was the best round of my life because after 13 hours of surgery and a triple bypass, I found something 40 years in the Army had never taught me. Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives, but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word ‘vigilantes’.”

Next to Florence, Natasha spoke with a smirk adorning her face, “What word would you use, Mr. Secretary?”

Secretary Ross looked up from the table, “How about ‘dangerous’? What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

Ross stepped aside from the table, allowing the full view to be on the screen in front of the table, showing various clips of incidents the Avengers were involved in. Everyone at the table grimaced at the screen, not proud of what it was showing. Ross flipped through events of New York, Washington D.C., Sokavia and Lagos before Steve had enough, noting Wanda’s demeanor change and telling Ross to turn it off.

“For the past four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.” Ross paused, placing a large file on the table in front of Wanda who passed it on to Rhodey, “The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries, it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel only when and if that panel deems it necessary.”

Steve spoke from the end of the table, “The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place. I feel we’ve done that.”

Ross looked down at Steve, “Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now? If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes, you can bet there’d be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That’s how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground.”

Rhodey gestured to the accords “So, there are contingencies.”

Ross shrugged, “Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over.”

Ross began to leave until Natasha stopped him, “And if we come to a decision you don’t like?”

“Then you retire.” Ross left after that, leaving the team to discuss.

The team was arguing amongst themselves as Florence stared at the ceiling with her feet on the table, listening to various points being made while Rhodey and Sam debated behind Steve while Tony rolled his eyes.

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, “So let’s say we agree to this thing. How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

“117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you’re just like, ‘No, that’s cool. We got it.’”

Sam cut Rhodey off, “How long are you going to play both sides?”

Vision interrupted from his spot on the couch next to Wanda, “I have an equation.”

Sam moved to stand behind Florence, his voice dripping in sarcasm, “Oh, this will clear it up.”

Vision continued, “In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. During the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.”

“Are you saying it’s our fault?” Steve spoke with the Accords in hand.

“I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invited challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict,” Vision paused, “breeds catastrophe. Oversight, oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

Rhodey looked to Sam, “Boom.”

Natasha spoke from her spot at the table, “Tony, you are being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal.” Tony rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

“It’s because he’s already made up his mind.”

Tony grumbled at Steve’s statement, “Boy, you know me so well.” Tony rose from the couch, cradling his head as he walked over to the kitchen, “Actually, I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache. That’s what’s going on, Cap. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort.” Tony grabbed a coffee mug, looking into the sink, “Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal?”

Natasha looked at Florence with a knowing look about her coffee-sleep- problem while Tony continued complaining behind them, “Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

Tony placed his phone in the fruit basket, a small hologram emitting from it of a young man, “Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way. He’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA, had a floor-level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk, See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where. Sokovia.” Tony paused, allowing the words to sink in painfully, “He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. We won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass. There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.”

Steve began speaking, “Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up.”

“Who said we’re giving up?”

“We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame.”

Rhodey speaks up, pointing at Steve, “I’m sorry, Steve. This is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not S.H.I.E.L.D., it’s not HYDRA.”

Florence practically flinched at Rhodey’s mention of HYDRA as Steve cut him off, “No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”

Tony walked towards the group, “That’s good. That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

Steve interrupted, “Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there’s somewhere we need to go and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.” The team all shared looks, silently gauging their stances.

Tony looked down at Steve, “If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s the fact. That won’t be pretty.”

Wanda, who had been silent the entire meeting, spoke from her seat next to Vision, “You’re saying they’ll come for me.”

Vision spoke beside her, “We would protect you.”

“Maybe Tony’s right,” All eyes darted to Natasha, “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off-”

Sam cut her off, “Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?”

“I’m just reading the terrain. We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.” Florence was slightly shocked at Natasha’s statement. She had assumed that she wouldn’t be signing, not wanting to walk back into a potential puppet situation.

Tony leaned against his chair, looking at Natasha baffled, “Focus up. I’m sorry. Did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?”

Natasha shook her head, “I want to take it back now.”

“No, no, no, you can’t retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay. Case closed. I win.”

Florence noticed Steve’s phone buzzing, watching his face fall as he read the notification, “I have to go.” The team watched as Steve bolted out of the room.

Days later, Florence was seated between Steve and Sam as they attended Peggy Carter’s funeral in London. The girl was never close to Peggy in the ’40s, she only spoke to her briefly, but Florence knew Steve would need support. The trio watched from the pew as Sharon Carter, Peggy’s niece and an ex S.H.I.E.L.D agent, spoke about her aunt. Sharon had grown to be a friend and an ally to the team, helping them out during the Battle of Triskelion.

The funeral ended quickly, Florence standing outside with Sam while Steve remained in the chapel. A familiar redhead passed by, Florence grabbing Natasha’s arm gently, “Nat? What are you doing here?”

“I came to see Steve, then I’m off to Vienna to sign the Accords.”

Florence furrowed her brows, “You’re signing it? Who else signed?”

Natasha shrugged, “Yeah, it’s what seems right. Tony, Rhodey and Vision have signed. Clint says he’s retired and Wanda is TBD. You?”

“I can’t.” Florence wanted to but was immensely torn. She didn’t see a way to function properly under the Accords, and her best bet was to not sign, much to Natasha’s dismay. Florence remained paranoid after the Red Room and HYDRA, even more so than the redhead in front of her. She wanted it to be easy, to sign the Accords without any second thoughts, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Natasha smiled softly at her friend, “I figured. But there’s room on the jet if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, Nat, but I’ll pass. Go see Steve.” The two girls hugged briefly, Natasha pulling away and entering the chapel.

Hours later, both Sam and Florence’s phone vibrated, alerting a notification, the pair taking out their devices and reading ‘UNITED NATIONS COMPLEX BOMBED’

The two looked up from their phones in fear, immediately on the hunt to find Steve.

They found him in the lobby of Sharon’s hotel, having walked her back after Natasha left hours ago. Sam stopped in front of him, “Steve, there’s something you need to see.”

The trio stood in front of the TV of their shared hotel room as the news anchor spoke, “A bomb hidden in news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna.”

Sharon paced behind them while she was on the phone.

“More than 70 people have been injured. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda’s King T’Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect, who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”

The screen played a clip of the alleged suspect, Bucky, and Florence felt like she was going to be sick. Her stomach dropped and she could feel Sam’s gaze on her. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be him.

Sharon interrupted Steve and Florence’s internal spiral, “I have to go to work.”

Florence remained in front of the TV, trying to talk herself out of believing that Bucky would do this. He would have been acting alone. He wouldn’t have done this, this wasn’t the man she knew. She knew he was out of HYDRA’s clutches and was on his own, it couldn’t be him.

Steve grabbed her wrist gently, turning her away from the TV, “We have to go to Vienna, come on.”

Florence and Steve made it to Vienna along with Sam, both leaning against a tree with hats and sunglasses in an attempt to remain unknown. Steve pulled out his phone, dialing Natasha’s number. Florence ignored their conversation as she stared emotionless at the ground. The air was still heavy with smoke from the bombing as Steve spotted Natasha a few yards away, her ignorant to the fact that Steve and Florence were here.

After Steve hung up, Florence’s phone began to ring, Natasha’s contact lighting up the screen. She shared a look with Steve before answering, “Hey.”

Natasha wasted no time getting to the point, “Look, I know how much Barnes means to you, trust me I get it, but don’t do anything stupid. You need to stay home and regroup.”

Florence sighed into the phone, “Nat, you know I can’t do that.” Florence ended the call before Natasha could respond, quickly pocketing the phone in her black jacket and walking away.

Florence and Steve entered a restaurant, quickly spotting Sam at the bar.

Sam placed his food down, “She tell you to stay out of it?” Steve and Florence’s silence was answer enough for Sam, “Might have a point.”

Steve pursed his lips, “He’d do it for me.”

“1945, maybe.” Florence glared at Sam through her glasses as he continued speaking, “I just want to make sure we consider all our options. The people that shoot at you two usually end up shooting at me.”

Sam didn’t know him. Steve didn’t know the ‘new’ him. Out of the two, she had known Bucky the longest, loving him through the good and the bad. Even when he was the darkest parts of the Winter Soldier, Florence still held love for him in her heart because she knew what HYDRA made him into. And when Florence’s reflection was unfamiliar to herself, whether she was covered in someone else’s blood or she had been reprogrammed, Bucky kept her from falling apart in the Red Room. It couldn’t be him.

Sharon made her way up the bar, standing next to Steve as she updated the group, “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everybody thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of its noise.” Sharon slid a file over to Steve, “Except for this. My boss expects a briefing, pretty much now, so that’s all the head start you’re gonna get.”

Florence thanked Sharon as she left to leave, “You’re all gonna have to hurry. We have orders to shoot on sight.” Again, the feeling of bile worked its way up Florence’s throat, forcing herself to choke it down. Her hands shook at her sides as she took in Sharon’s words. She wouldn’t let that happen, even if it ended up killing her. She was going to save him.

Steve read over the file quickly, Sam and Florence looking at him expectantly, ”He’s in Romania.”

The location shouldn’t have shocked Florence as much as it did. A lot happened in Romania between herself and Bucky, she shouldn’t be surprised he went there. He probably didn’t even realize why he went to Bucharest, the action must have felt familiar. She should have began their search there two years ago, Florence was angry with herself for missing such an important place to them both. And God, did Romania have painful roots in the soldiers’ and widows’ lives.

FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED. IF YOU ENJOYED, PLEASE REBLOG!

taglist: @tanyaherondale @lilyviolets @jckie94 @g-mayunot

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leechangjoons · 2 years

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Name: Sun Zihuan, Zachary (just “Zach”, please) 孙咨幻 Shifter Form: (shiny) Zoroark Appearance: Zach is tall and lanky, his scruffy black hair forming a mane that he ties with a loose ponytail. His hair ends in purple highlights, which glows faintly when he uses his abilities. He is tan skinned from working long hours in menial jobs, with a large scar extending from his left side of his forehead all the way to his chin. The scar cuts across his eye and his left eye is blind, making him look more menacing that he actually is. His remaining eye is electric blue from his abilities and he usually wears a motorcycle jacket over a white, collared shirt and heavily-patched jeans and sneakers, with a baton attached on his belt for self-defense. Zach usually wears shades to cover his blind eye, but tends to whip them off dramatically when he means business. Personality: Zach is protective of others, yet also a cheeky prankster whose practical jokes often get himself and others into trouble. He puts up a front of being a slick and streetsmart individual that almost borders on being an irksome know-it-all, mostly to impress Sela than anything when he is in fact a highly emotional and sensitive man who wears his heart on his sleeve. In truth, he is surprisingly easygoing and even-tempered despite his otherwise off-puttingly intimidating appearance, which usually throws people off more than anything, and he often uses his illusory abilities to seem (hopefully) more personable in the hopes that he would be accepted. History: Orphaned at a young age with his younger sister Mindy, Zach grew up being shuttled from foster home to foster home with her, but when he ended up fighting one of the children he was living with after she’d insulted Mindy for being quiet, Zach would end up being pushed into a jagged bannister, blinding him in his left eye and leaving the disfiguring scar that would otherwise define his appearance for the rest of his existence.

Deemed a threat by his new foster parents and unfit to raise Mindy, Zach was separated from her and returned to the orphanage after he had recovered from his injury (while the child who had attacked him was also sent to juvie for once again lashing out against Mindy when he had been gone). He would stay there until he was 18 and aged out of the system, working on a strawberry farm project with the other children and keeping up a chipper attitude in an attempt to keep himself on his best behavior while fully aware that his current appearance and age meant most parents were less inclined to give him a chance.

When he had saved enough money to leave, he bade the people of the orphanage farewell and began to drift instead, moving from place to place while searching for leads of Mindy now that he was able to take her back and working odd jobs along the way (having not been able to receive a proper education nor having the attention span to sit still for one). Along the way, he fell in with a certain undergraduate after helping her with her plumbing, and had found himself settling down in a hotheaded, childish pursuit of her, hoping to win Sela over with earnest determination.

Along the way, Zach awakened to his new powers after a brush with fate (and the scientist Zhixian, who was otherwise known as the father of all shifters), beginning to take himself more seriously with his illusory abilities and gain a living being a small-time magician instead. He continues trying his best to win Sela over, this time with flourishing illusions and fancy tricks.

What he wasn’t aware of was that she had been adopted overseas and was now named “Sodam”, having repressed the traumatic experience that had led to her separation with her brother entirely. Zach’s lofty dream is to one day save up enough to have his own strawberry farm with the two people he cares most by his side, and works hard to pursue it. Powers: Zach can jump into shadows and move as a shadow to avoid detection. Unfortunately, he can't manipulate the shadows out of where they're cast, and being exposed to light also exposes his human-shaped location. He's also able to project and manipulate illusions- the bigger and wider the sphere of influence, the more draining it is for him to continue utilizing. Immortal/Semi-Immortal?: Mortal Alignment: Chaotic Good Other: (self fyi for FC: Bai Jingting)

#chinese shifters #illusory determination

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leorugiet · 7 years

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4, 18, 44

Character Development “Hard Mode” Meme: send a number & character to my ask box and I’ll write an answer/headcanon in reply.

4. Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

(In my headcanon, watching his mother almost burst into flames after a freak accident on a motorcycle is pretty much the main thing that’s up there. Seeing her disfigured and unable to work gave him a big reminder of ‘hey, she’s going to die someday’ and kicked him in the ass that he didn’t want to burden his mother any more, especially now that she couldn’t make money. Still, that’s very specific to my headcanon.

In terms of what we know out of canon, probably everything he witnessed of watching the Crown City literally crumble. Knowing he failed, knowing somehting bad was going to happen yet going along with what the King wanted. Watching a lot of civilians die [another headcanon of course, because, we don’t know how many die, but considering ther aren’t many refugees, I reached two conclusions about the events of Kingsglaive {because it sure as fuck isn’t ‘not a lot of people lived in Insomnia’ that place is fucking huge >:|} 1. a LOT of people fucking died or 2. the ppl making the game didn’t give a fuck about making it look like there was alot of refugees, they just implied it. I ASSUME IT’S THE LATTER, BUT WHATEVER, LET’S GO WITH THE FORMER >:P] in a place he should’ve been able to protect, and not being able to even keep most of his Crownsguard alive, also served as a very painful and sudden change in Cor’s life. Maybe that’s too recent to be fundementally changing, but, I can’t say that didn’t change him to some degree.

As for if anyone knows, I’m gonna assume that yes, because some people knew Cor as a child, especially since he ran away at 13 to join the military then somehow became a King’s Guard at 15, you can’t tell me the people who knew him in his youth wouldn’t have been aware that he must’ve went through some shit to do that. Even people who don’t know him must be aware.)

18.Is your character more likely to admire wisdom, or ambition in others?

Wisdom. Cor is full of ambition and failure, so, he doesn’t value something he already has a ton of. Not to say he doesn’t value ambition in others, but, he’s more likely to coddle ambition. My example being Prompto. Prompto is full of ambition, and Cor is very protective and flattering, so if Prompto does fall on his ass and fail, the landing isn’t as hard as it was for Cor. Prompto wants to prove himself, but he also has kind friends who are competent and there for him. Cor, as far as I imagine, did not have that, if he fucked up he fucked up, nobody was exactly happy to help him, it was more like pity. That’s why he itched to prove himself so much, he went to the Tempering Grounds alone, probably scared the shit out of himself, and somehow came back alive.

Not to mention, Cor being in the military at 13 heavily implies he doesn’t have anything past an elementary school education. I think I’ve said it before, but most of his knowledge is experience and age, he’s actually not that intelligent. He can’t read well, even at this age (because it was never important to him). He writes very to-the-point reports. He doesn’t have a large vocabulary. He’s ‘no nonsense’ because he really couldn’t be any other way. Wisdom is something much more admiriable in his eyes, which is why I imagine that, even though they never interact, Cor is actually slightly intimidated by Ignis, who is the only character [as far as I’ve seen] who he never talks to. The whole DLC is him and Gladio, obviously he speaks to Noctis, and he showers Prompto with praise and advice. Ignis? Nothing.

I know it’s actually kind of amusing to imagine, but I think he’s actually avoidant of Ignis, not purposefully, he just knows he’s an idiot, and doesn’t want to feel more like an idiot, let alone reveal it. Ignis gets his respect for being booksmart and able to apply it to the task at hand. He just doesn’t even let Ignis know that.)

44. How easy or difficult is it for your character to say “I love you?” Can they say it without meaning it?

Impossible. He never says it. A lover can say “I love you.” and he will immediately respond with “I know.” Or. “Thanks.” He means well. It makes him happy. He just can’t return it. If he does, he’s dying. Like, he’s honestly got something horrible about to happen to him because he’s never going to be honest like that unless he knows he’s a step away from death. So, knowing that, you might actually not want him to say I love you, because, that’s what it means.

He can absolutely say it without meaning it. Like, if his lover tells him “Say I love you” he’ll beat around the bush and say it. But, it’s just words when it’s like that. It has no gravity. He’s only saying it because he was asked to say it. It doesn’t matter if the partner he has also never says it, or showers him with that phrase daily. He doesn’t say it. There’s a lot of phrases he refuses to say. “Don’t go.” is one of them. “I missed you.” “Help me.” Is probably the least likely. You’ll hear “I love you.” before “Help me.” comes out of his mouth. It’s not like I love you is an exclusive statement. Cor is just hardheaded and refuses to say a lot of things, that one just ends up being obvious.)

#about cor #cor headcanon #ignore me #mun speaks #tmi #long post #ish #cor is a loser more at 11 #tbh that's what all my hc posts are #he's a sad sad loser #bxstiarius

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laharl234main · 6 years

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**Part 1**

P1: <A deserted side road in the middle of a rundown, decaying city. The pavement is cracked and the streets littered with the occasional broken and rusted vehicle, as well as stained heavily with oil and pollutants. Overhead, thick, dark clouds block most of the sunlight.>

P2: <A portal opens behind a rusted chain-link fence across an alley.>

P3: “You said you wanted to travel somewhere cheerful and bright for Christmas right Marquess?” <Asks a boy, Cyril, as he appears from the portal>

P4: “Sure do.” <Thomas, emerging from the portal>

P5: “Well I think you made a mistake.”

P1: <Both boys looking through the fence and out to the stained street and apartment buildings, and the dark clouds overhead>

P2: “Hm, odd. I was sure I had the right world; Bathora G-89, home of the Great Crystal Spire, a great monu- hey, are you okay?” <Thomas explaining while Cyril coughs>

P3: “It’s this air *cough* there’s so much smog.” <Cyril, bent over slightly with his hand over his mouth>

P4: “Oh yeah, it is a little thick.” <Thomas thinking aloud, looking up at the sky> “I should have something for that.”

P1: <Thomas’ hand holding a chain necklace with a strange sort of pearl-like object attached to it> “Wear this, it’s an air charm, provides the wearer fresh air appropriate to their species.”

P2: “I’m not wearing a necklace like some lady.” <Cyril with mild indignation, folding his arms>

P3: “Cyril…” <Thomas sighing with mild exasperation>

P4: “Just wear it okay? You can hide it in your shirt if want.” <Thomas, holding it out> “Or would you rather suffocate?”

P5: <A long coughing fit with Cyril nearly doubled over> “Okay fine.” <Rasps out>

P1: “So where are we?” <Cyril, stuffing the necklace down his shirt>

P2: “Don’t know.” <Thomas, looking thoughtfully at the fence> “We need to get out of this alley first.”

P3: <The fence being sliced by sword slashes>

P4: <Thomas standing over the debris that was previously the fence, holding his sword>

P5: “There, now let’s go look around.” <Thomas, beckoning Cyril to follow him, while his sword turns back into a cane>

P1: <Both boys walking out into the cracked street, looking around for any clue where they are>

P2: “There’s so much pollution in the air.” <Thomas muses to himself, looking up at the smog filled streets>

P3: “Do you even think there’s life left on this world?” <Cyril asks, trying to look into a cracked and grime covered window of some kind of shop>

P4: “I’d be surprised. This is something that could happen on your world you know; all those factories pumping out toxins without filtration to slow them.”

P5: “We won’t let it get this bad.” <Cyril, catching up with Thomas, looking down another alleyway>

“I hope not.” <Thomas replies>

P1: “I want to find out how this world got so bad.” <Thomas wondering, walking down the street with Cyril who has his hands on his goggles> “And if anyone survived this apocalypse, we need to help them.”

P2: “Hey Thomas, look over there!” <Cyril abruptly, with his goggles on and pointing while tugging Thomas’ coat> “I think there’s someone on the ground over there!”

P3: “Yup, I see them. Come on!” <Thomas replies>

P4: <Both boys running over to the person on the ground, Thomas holding his cane at the middle>

P5: “I think he’s still alive.” <Thomas says quietly, crouching down next to the man, who’s not wearing a shirt, but whose flesh looks oddly grey and unhealthy>

“Turn him over, something looks wrong with his arm.” <Cyril>

“On it.”

P1: <Thomas turning the man over with ease>

P2: “Agggh!” <Both boys cry in horror, recoiling from the man>

P3: <The man is now shown to be grotesquely disfigured due to robotic parts in his face and chest, including wires, tubes, and something that looks like a cheap camera lens for an eye, while the other has been removed and the flesh on his lower jaw removed, and the jaw, replaced with a badly made metal replacement. One arm is distended and partially made of metal.>

P4: “What’s wrong with him!?” <Cyril with disgust>

P5: “I think an idiot tried to give him cybernetic implants.” <Thomas, crouching back down beside him>

“H… H…” <Weakly uttered by the man>

P1: “Help me.” <The man says, weakly raising his good arm towards Thomas>

P2: “I will, don’t worry.” <Thomas assures gently, lowering the man’s arm to his side>

P3: “Is there even anything you can do?” <Cyril asks, still standing behind Thomas, but leaning over with his hands on his legs>

“I can try to ease the pain, first and foremost.” <Thomas, his hands glowing with light which he’s placed on the man’s chest> “Does that feel any better?”

P4: “Y-yes, a little.” <The man>

P5: “What’s your name? What happened?” <Thomas, maintaining his light magic>

P1: “My name is… my name is Kurt Fis… Kurt Fischer.” <The man explains> “Please, you must… you must find my daughter. Let her know…”

P2: “Let her know I’m sorry.” <Kurt, finishing>

P3: “Don’t go dying on me just yet Mr. Fischer. Just give me a couple days and I’m sure I could get you healthy as a hippogryph.” <Thomas assuring>

P4: “Uh, Marquess, look!” <Cyril, pointing down the street and grabbing Thomas’s shoulder>

P1: <Three side by side panels show a truck getting closer and closer. A truck with a distinctly armoured, military and completely utilitarian look to it>

P2: “That’s a ‘truck’ right?” <Cyril>

“Yes. I think possibly some sort of transport.”

“Transport? You mean like for people?”

“I do, but I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

P3: <The truck comes to a stop next to the group>

P4: <The back of the truck lowers>

P1: <Men and women with mechanical chest units embedded into them, and wearing open police jackets, appear from the truck, carrying slightly futuristic-looking rifles>

P2: <The guards surround the boys, with rifles lowered>

P3: “This man is fitted with unlicensed enhancements. Step away so that we may take him for repairs.” <One of the guards says, stepping forward>

P4: “Repairs?” <Thomas>

P5: “Yes. The Committee has authorized a series of complimentary repairs for this week.”

P1: “What kind of repairs?” <Cyril, standing on guard>

P2: “Replacement with authorized enhancements. Now please step away from Mr. Fischer, this will be for his benefit.” <The guard leader>

P3: <Thomas sighs and gets to his feet>

P4: “I have no wish to begin a fight in which Mr. Fischer could be injured further, so I see no other option.” <Thomas explains> “Take him.”

P5: “A wise decision boy. Do not fear, he will receive the best repairs the Committee can offer.” <The guard captain, directing his troops with hand signals>

P1: “He mentioned a daughter to me. You wouldn’t happen to know who she is would you?” <Thomas asks as the guards take Kurt Fischer into the truck>

P2: “I’m afraid I don’t. You might wish to use a public Cybernet access point to find that information.” <Guard captain>

“And where would we find one of those?” <Thomas>

P3: “You can’t be serious; they’re all over the occupied parts of the city. Even the Outer City has plenty. Just follow this road into town.” <Guard captain, bewildered>

P4: “Thank you, we will.” <Thomas, bowing politely> “Come on Cyril.”

**Part 2**

P1: “Marquess… those men, were those things in their chests…” <Cyril, as he and Thomas walk>

“How they breathe? I think so yes. Those’re cybernetics; replacing flesh with machines to improve their bodies.” <Thomas>

“And it turned their skin grey?” <Cyril>

“I’m not actually sure what’s doing that. Could be implants causing dermal deterioration, or could be the toxic atmosphere.” <Thomas>

“Okay, and one more question.” <Cyril>

“Shoot.”

P2: “How come you’re breathing fine?” <Cyril>

P3: “Filtered lungs, and air magic, among other things.” <Thomas>

P1: “Hm… look up ahead, I think I see a fence.” <Thomas, pointing ahead>

P2: “I see it too!” <Cyril, just finishing putting his goggles on> “But I don’t see ground behind it… so is there a bridge?”

P3: “I think so. Come on, let’s go take a look.” <Thomas, gesturing for Cyril to follow>

P4: <Both boys running towards or arriving at the chain-link fence, overlooking a trench with train tracks in it, and the road continuing as a bridge across the trench>

P1: “Hm… fence has seen better days.” <Thomas, inspecting the deteriorating fence> “Lots of rust.”

“Is that important?” <Cyril>

“No, just thinking out loud.” <Thomas>

P2: “So what kind of train is it do you think?” <Cyril, with his goggles still on> “The track looks weird.”

P3: “It’s a monorail; a train that uses just a single rail and the train is usually electric.” <Thomas commenting over the picture of the smoggy train line>

P4: “Well, I think we’ve put it off long enough; let’s see what the inhabited part of the city is like.” <Thomas, turning away from the fence>

P1: “I suspect it’s close if there’s a train line here.” <Cyril>

P2: “You’re correct, but there was a more direct way of learning that.” <Thomas>

“What?” <Cyril>

P3: “That.” <Thomas pointing with his cane at a sign reading ‘Outer City Entrance’>

“Oh…” <Cyril, almost off frame, standing beside Thomas now>

P4: “Anyways, bridge. Let’s see what this city is like.” <Thomas, walking onto the bridge, with Cyril following>

P1: <Both boys arrive at the end of the bridge and see the road continue on straight ahead into the smog, now in slightly better condition, though with some garbage and scrap lining the sides. On both sides are neon signs, somewhat tall buildings, store windows, and street lamps of a very high tech design. Occasionally a wire draped across the road, and there were some turn offs into parking lots or smaller side roads. This includes roads branching off either side of the main one immediately after the bridge. On the left street corner from the boys’ perspective is a gas station, looking slightly rundown, and on the right street corner is a motorcycle store. A few people or motorcycles may be around>

P1: “This is both cool and depressing.” <Thomas comments casually>

“Thinking out loud again?” <Cyril>

“Yes.”

P2: “So we needed to find a Cybernet public access point right?” <Cyril> “Would that be one of those, um… computer things?”

“Probably. I was just gonna ask at that gas station where we could find one.” <Thomas replies, pointing to the building in question>

P3: “No signs this time, but I bet one of these roads beside us goes to a train station.” <Cyril adds as they start walking>

“Yeah that is odd. Just something else to ask about I suppose.” <Thomas musing>

P1: <Thomas and Cyril walk into the somewhat rundown, but at least clean, store at the gas station. Despite largely empty shelves, several lights not working, and holes in the ceiling, the air is mostly clear.>

P2: “What’cha wan- woah…” <the man at the counter, sitting, looking more like he’s relaxing than working, and holding a tablet> “What’s with the fancy getups?”

P3: “Well we can’t very well walk around naked can we?” <Thomas cheekily>

P4: “That’s not what I-” <Shopkeeper>

P5: “He knows.” <Cyril interjects>

P1: “Well whatever, none of my business. So again; what’cha want?” <Shopkeep> “All I got to sell is dust.”

P2: “Nah, don’t want stuff, just some questions.” <Thomas>

“Alright, that shouldn’t take long.”

P3: “Why aren’t there any street signs out there?” <Thomas asks>

P4: “Rusted through about three years ago. Got taken down, no point putting them back up.”

“How come?” <Cyril>

“Because you can just use Cybernet for directions? Where’ve you two been living?” <Shopkeep, shocked at their obliviousness>

P5: “Very far away.” <Thomas evasively> “Next question.”

“If it gets rid of you sooner.”

P1: “Where can we find a Cybernet public access point?” <Thomas asks, calmly and curiously>

P2: “All over the place. Nearest one is just down Central Street here, big neon sign that says C.P.A., you can’t miss it.”

P3: “Alright thanks.” <Thomas, turning to leave, holding his cane reclined on his shoulder>

P4: “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” <Shopkeep, returned to his device as the boys walk out the door>

P1: “What a cantankerous man.” <Cyril with slight irritation as they walk down the sidewalk, more people around them now>

“I’d be surprised if any of this city’s inhabitants had much cheer left in them, with it in this state.”

P2: “Look, there’s the sign; Cybernet Public Access, C.P.A.” <Cyril, pointing ahead>

P3: “And there’s the long queue below it.” <Thomas, with a view of the two standing on the sidewalk leading up to a line of people heading up to doors under the neon sign in question>

“Oh wow…” <Cyril adds in>

P1: “I shouldn’t have to wait in that, I’m a noble.” <Cyril with his hands on his hips>

P2: “Cyril…” <Thomas sighs with exasperation>

P3: “Er… sorry. Old habits die hard.” <Cyril replies sheepishly>

P4: “We’re not at home, so we’re not nobles. And even if we were, we should strive to treat each other equally.” <Cyril recites confidently, in a way that suggests he’s recited this a lot>

P5: “That’s right.” <Thomas replies approvingly>

P6: “Still, I do hope this queue moves somewhat quickly.” <Thomas adds with mild concern>

P1: [One hour later] <The line has only moved a little, and there’s clearly plenty of ways left to go>

P2: “Hm…” <Thomas, touching the top end of his cane to his chin thoughtfully> “Perhaps we should seek out another spot.”

“But we don’t know where any other spots are.”

P3: “Excuse me a moment...” <Someone speaking off panel, with Thomas and Cyril’s expressions being ones of taking notice>

P4: “Pardon the intrusion, but did I hear you young gentlemen wanting to find another C.P.A.?” <A man who looks well-meaning, but a bit punk and scruffy>

P1: “Oh, hello there! Yeah I said that.” <Thomas pleasantly>

P2: “Well I can show you to a nice, exclusive one. It’s perfect for people of your caliber.” <The man explains quietly> “What do you say?”

P3: “And why should we-” <Cyril begins>

P4: “Sure, lead the way.” <Thomas replies calmly, with Cyril shocked beside him>

P5: “Then please, follow me.”

P1: “Have you gone mad!?” <Cyril quietly as they follow the man at a slight distance>

“You know the answer to that is ‘yes’.” <Thomas replies casually>

P2: “I mean; you’re willing to just trust this stranger blindly?” <Cyril explained with mild irritation>

P3: “Of course not! I’m willing to follow him, big difference. I’ll be surprised if he’s telling the truth.” <Thomas explains>

P4: “Then why are we following him?” <Cyril>

“Simple; criminal or not, he’s bound to own a computer. That’s all I really need.” <Thomas explains, simply and with a confident smile> “Trust me.”

P5: “Well… okay.” <Cyril replies, taking a deep, slightly nervous breath>

P1: “Here we are.” <The man as the three stand in a narrow, filthy alley in front of a sturdy, metal door>

P2: <The man’s fist knocking on the door>

P3: “Hey Jack, I got us some new ‘members’.” <The man says to a peep hatch on the door being slid open>

“Password?”

“Since when do we have a password?”

“Alright, you’re good.”

P4: <Door opens>

P1: <The man ushering Thomas and Cyril into the doorway>

P2: <Thomas and Cyril standing inside in front of a large, messy and deteriorated room. The walls are largely bare plaster and sheet rock, with plenty of holes and crumbled spots showing infrastructure to the building. Cables, papers, boxes and other garbage is strewn across the cement floor, and the furniture consists of a large, torn up couch across the room, with its back to the door, a couple stools, and a pair of large, metal operating tables. A couple doors lead out of the room, and there is indeed a desk with a sleek, high-tech looking desktop on it.>

P1: <The door is shut with a loud ‘slam’ behind the boys, who turn abruptly to see the man, Jack, who did so. This man is short-haired, wearing double-breasted, distressed scrubs and tinted glasses.>

P2: “So Leonard, this is what you brought me…” <Jack muses, approaching the boys nonchalantly and adjusting his glasses>

P3: “You found these two gorgeous boys at the C.P.A.?” <Says a girl emerging from one of the other doors, about sixteen years old with dyed pink hair in pigtails/bunches, black halter top with a pink heart on it, dark pink hot pants, and knee-length boots> “But they’re so cute! Do you have to cut them up Jack?”

P4: “It’s Jacques you imbeciles. And I’m afraid personal affections cannot stand in the path of progress Molly.” <Jack/Jacques says with a sigh, his hands behind his back and standing in front of Thomas and Cyril now>

P1: “Can I at least keep one of them?” <Molly asks pleadingly, with her hands clasped together>

P2: “Oh, but then I couldn’t decide! The blond looks like more fun to play with…” <Molly, hyperactively throwing her arms around Thomas>

P3: “But the black-haired one is so pretty that I’d never get tired of dressing him up!” <Molly adds, still holding Thomas, but looking over at Cyril fancifully>

P4: “He has worn a dress before.” <Thomas adds mischievously, not looking particularly concerned by the situation>

“Really!?” <Molly asks optimistically>

“TOM!” <Cyril shouts indignantly, blushing>

P1: “Enough of this foolishness.” <Jacques exclaims with irritation> “Molly, Leonard, do your jobs.”

P2: “Fiiiine, sorry blondie.” <Molly groans, reaching down to her belt with one hand>

P3: <Leonard and Molly hold Cyril and Thomas, respectively, at gun point; Molly’s aimed at Thomas’ head and Leonard’s aimed into Cyril’s back>

P4: “What exactly are you intending to do with us?” <Thomas asks>

P1: “Biological experiments. I’m searching for a way to help us survive this dying world, without losing our humanity.” <Jacques explains> “Unfortunately finding volunteers is difficult, what with the obsession with machines our culture has. So I make the volunteering decisions for them.”

P2: “I see, and has anyone survived? Sounds more like you’re cutting people open and extracting their organs.” <Thomas replies, in casual and friendly way that’s ignorant of the gun pointing at him>

P3: “That is precisely what I’m doing. I take the organs, try to modify them, and expose them to the environment. What I need is something that can resist the toxins, then I can work on applying that modification to everyone.” <Jacques replies>

P1: “Overlooking the people you’ve killed to get to that place to begin with.” <Thomas replies>

“Desperate times call for desperate measures I’m afraid. Now enough talk; how would you like to begin?” <Jacques asks>

P2: “Meaning?” <Cyril asks>

P3: “I’m no barbarian, my boy, I’ll allow you to choose a gentle descent into permanent slumber with a simple formula I’ve created. Having you shot risks causing damage to your components.”

P4: “Just one more question; what are these two to you?” <Thomas asks, gesturing to Molly and Leonard>

P5: “My siblings, unfortunately. None too bright, but family nonetheless.” <Jacques explains with slight disappointment>

P1: “I see, in that case I apologize Molly…” <Thomas begins>

P2: <Thomas whirls around faster than any of the humans can react and his cane transforms into a sword, which he holds to Molly’s neck>

P3: “How did you-?” <Molly asks, while Leonard and Jacques express shock at the turn of events>

P4: “I’m not exactly human. Now you, Leonard, lower your gun.” <Thomas orders sharply, glancing over slightly at the man>

“Please do as he says Lenny, you have no idea how sharp this thing is.” <Molly insists nervously, the edge of the sword lightly touching her neck and drawing a little blood>

P5: “Uh… Jack, should I?” <Leonard asks, looking unsure of himself>

P1: “I… uh, this has never happened before…” <Jacques, his confidence completely gone>

P2: “Jack!” <Molly shouts desperately>

P3: “Alright! Leonard, do as he says.” <Jacques, looking very anxious>

P4: <Leonard lowers his gun>

P5: <Thomas swiftly dashes across the room, nearly a blur, and punches Leonard, and then Jacques in the gut>

P1: <Leonard and Jacques collapse>

P2: “Wh-what happened?” <Molly nervously>

P3: “Just a little sleep spell. I’m surprised it worked actually, any sort of conscious or unconscious resistance tends to make sleep spells useless.” <Thomas, taking a coil of rope from his pocket>

P4: “Well they were up late last- wait, what do you mean spell?” <Molly with great confusion>

P1: “Okay Cyril, take this and tie those two up.” <Thomas, handing the rope to Cyril> “Use some strong knots.”

“Got it.”

“Hey! Are you listening to me!?” <Molly yells angrily>

P2: “Oh, and take this too.” <Thomas adds, handing Cyril a gun>

“Hey! That’s mine!” <Molly cries indignantly>

P3: “What about her?” <Cyril asking, pointing to a fuming Molly>

“Leave her, we’ll need a guide.” <Thomas pulling back the computer chair> “Now, let’s get caught up.”

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asianbombshellx-blog · 7 years

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Chicago truck accident lawyers wins big for clients

Drivers and travelers in cars and trucks and motorcycles are specifically vulnerable in crashes involving huge trucks as a result of the weight difference between the two types of automobiles. Cars and trucks evaluate approximately 3,500 extra pounds, while big industrial trucks (known as semis, eighteen wheelers, as well as tractor-trailers) can consider as much as 80,000 extra pounds with their lots. In car-truck accidents, 98 percent of the fatalities were the people of the auto. The Caras Law Group is located at 320 W Illinois St #2112 Chicago, IL 60654 Phone - (312) 494-1500

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It can be ravaging-- specifically if one or more of the participants of your vehicle were killed or seriously harmed in the mishap. When a tractor trailer or truck collisions right into your lorry, the odds are stacked heavily versus those riding in the automobile. They will likely incur some type of physical or mental injury as a result. At minimum, having an mishap with a truck will certainly usually leave the passengers of the automobile significantly impacted and also seeking clinical, lawful and also monetary assistance. For more information about Truck Accident Lawyers - Click Here If you have been involved in a truck accident, it is necessary that you take all of the necessary steps to make certain the most effective psychological, physical and economic end result for you and also your passengers. Contact Caras Law Group today for a free appointment and case analysis. Dean Caras as well as his affiliates have years of experience in managing trucking mishap cases as well as will function to assist you in the healing process. If you have actually been associated with a trucking accident that was caused by another person's negligence or recklessness, one of the most essential point you can do is speak to a skilled accident attorney. Truck Driver Fatigue Truck driver exhaustion and drowsiness are problems that cause reckless habits such as failure to keep in the appropriate lane and escaping the road. Weary truckers are of such issue that in April of 2003, the Federal Electric motor Service provider Safety Management (FMCSA) instituted new hrs of service regulations to curb truckers' issues with tiredness. While these laws have helped in reducing the number of mishaps, the United States National Transportation Security Board still blames driver tiredness as a probable consider 20-40% of vehicle collisions. Rest starvation impairs a individual's ability to execute a variety of tasks, including those related to owning and operating equipment. Commonly a truck driver's exhaustion is triggered by inadequate daily rest, instead of a full lack of sleep. A truck driver's extended hrs of procedure can produce a situation of continual sleep deprivation by limiting a vehicle driver's everyday rest. When commercial vehicle drivers become fatigued from extreme daily and also once a week work hours, they substantially increase the threat of collisions that cause fatality or significant injuries. Yet despite this severe threat to public safety and security, regulation is frequently introduced to Congress that demands longer hrs of service for the trucking sector. On January 4, 2004 the new federal vehicle drivers' hours-of-service regulations came to be effective for Interstate motorists of industrial motor vehicles subject to Title 49, Code of Federal Regulations (49 CFR) Part 395. 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