RolePlayer.me

Some writings I've written to people over the years.  They're gone, but the words remain - so read if you like and peek into the musings of my soul:______Cissa to her Lucius: And so she stole upon him in the quite of the night and whispered her hope unto his ear, "Come grow old with me, my love. The best, I promise, is yet to be."With a kiss to lips parted in sleep, as gentle as the breeze itself, she sealed her wish.  And as if a vision she appeared, did she depart the same to leave him in wonder..was this real or just a dream?____________ To you - I will seek the solace of your arms then, when I waver.  I think I should need your strength - for even now, your nearness affects me so.  *though her heartbeats skipped and fluttered around her belly like a thousand petals falling from a tulip tree - her voice was calm and sure when she spoke.  Her gaze, though her cheeks flushed at the intimate caress of his warm palm, did not leave his - could not bear to be pulled away. Indeed it was as if she were polarized to him - drawn in like that of a wayward star losing its battle with the stronger sun, being drawn inexorably ever inward until she exploded into him in a dazzling display of might meeting might.   He was so close she could drink in the scent of him,  and it made her pulse quiver.  The pad of his thumb, calloused sent tiny goosebumps flaring up and down her neck and the shiver was impossible to hide.  She was disinclined to hide the reactions he caused in her.  Even if she were, his sun shone too brightly, the pull was too great and she had no reserve to fight it.  - Her smile was shaky, but her eyes were dilated and dark with intent when she spoke - breathy and thick, like honey*  My words have you longing for more?  Oh how you romance me with just a line, and many verses, have me lost in your sonnets.  *Dark eyes searched his* Then map your quest, my Romeo.  Find your paths and begin your journey, begin our adventure.  I await the discovery with a wanton zeal. ____________________The words that inspiration wrought  - *She stared back at him, the last thing she had thought he would do was rise and put distance between them.  It almost felt like a slap and she recoiled slightly at the action.  Pushing back into the cushions, blinking back stubbornly the idea of tears, she turned her cheek away, eyes and face cast down.  That had been a hard thing to say.  How do you share with someone such raw heartbreak and torment?  How do you share it with someone, no less, that you find yourself longing to crawl into?  Needing with a depth she had far ago put past her as being possible again.   Hermione had resigned herself to never finding a connection like that again.  To living a series of empty moments with men who never sparked in her the desire to be -what they wanted- or to inspire in her - to try to be more than she was. -  She'd begun to entertain the fantasy that Fate had finally cast a favorable eye on her one last time.   How cruel a mistress she was.  Showing her flashes of what she wanted, needed - and then yanking it away, like a precious drink of lifesaving water to a dying man. -  So she wanted to feel him.  Feel his touch, see a smile and know which one it was, and what it was reserved for - share knowing looks.  Perhaps it was just a fantasy, this idea of him.  A smoky shadow that haunted her soul, knowing exactly what she needed to hear, but not being able to actually fulfill the words he'd pulled from the darkest hidden corners of her heart.  She was a foolish, foolish slip of a girl.   She rose herself then,  turning away so he did not see the tear slip down her cheek before she brushed it aside, like so many others that had fallen long before he stirred her heart awake from the dull, monotonous slumber it had been in.   She was long used to tears filled with forgotten hopes, with barely spoken, gauzy wishes that were so fragile she dare not even put word to them.  It struck her mute momentarily, the shock that rolled over her and the ball of emotions that welled in her throat, constricting it so tightly she could not speak  - until she took a long, fortifying breath.  When she did, her voice was tremulous, full of raspy, raw hurt and something else, something that surprised her - anger.*    Why are you the only one who is allowed to be selfish?  I am not a porcelain doll!  I am a woman. I have flesh and bone like yours.  *she closed the distance between them swiftly, her eyes, shining fire-bright into his*  What course do you have to say what is better for me, than myself?  *her hands, despite herself, fashioned into fists and settled on her hips* You.. you have lit a fire inside me that I believed dulled and died long ago.  And yet you tell me I deserve better? What is better?  Some sallow, simpering man with an empty head and milky, gray, lifeless words that do nothing to ignite my passions?  Is that what is best for me?   *she stepped right up to him, her voice quaking*  You are correct in saying you're a cruel man.  Tormenting me with .. *one hand gestured the length of him* with all that you are and then deny me?   I share with you a piece of my life and you turn tales to run from me?   *her hands were back firmly on her hips* What are your feelings?  No intention of what?   *she paced like the lioness she was, proud in front of her mate - fearless to face him now that her passions had stirred other flames within*   I find no torment, *she flung the words out, spinning around and casting a nearly petulant glance his way*  in being with you, except in that you  leave me the moment I bare a piece of myself to you.  *she froze, stopping in her tracks, her back to him, shoulders ramrod straight* If you are going to trust me - you will have to take a leap of faith that I will also trust you.  *her voice was low and just as hushed as his*   After all, is that not what I have done since the moment we spoke?  And so we are very clear, I long ago let you in.  *she turned slowly, shoulders still stiff, eyes already shuttered and guarded*  I suppose the question is;  Will you let - me - in?(And yet..even though I said all this to you - you still left.)___________________________ I had a dream last night - a haunting Vision of your eyes dancing before mine, Sparked with unrestrained desire, dark Like the bluest skies just before dusk - And I willingly dove into the sea therein. And your voice, like a siren lulling me To follow where're you sang. Helpless to stray from any path that did Not lead to you. And your touch. Oh, your Sweet touch - like fire and silk, caresses That left me keening, thirsty, craving for Just one graze of your lips upon my hand, Or my cheek - Heaven's angels would be Envious for anything more -   But I say, let them covet me.  For when You speak, it's as though the angels themselves Are singing.  And one touch from your hand I take flight amid the cadre of stars.  And one Smile from you and I catch glimmers of Untold cities of gold faultless and shining from Within your eyes.   Meet me tonight?  Give me patois and hope And a feast for my dreams?  ---------------------How do you know, my dearest, -----  - I think I shall not call you Romeo any longer, for theirs was a story fraught with tragedy, misunderstandings and truly unrequited love.  *her palm opened flat over his heart, feeling the steady beats, staring at him with understanding and acknowledgment written in the soft curve of her lips and in the expression of her eyes*  Our story is only in the very first pages.  It is new and fresh and unblemished.  *her hand slid down into his* However,  - we - have our individual stories that already color our characters.  Make up the fabric of who we are.  I will not shy away from this man standing before me - nor any of the facets of what make you, who you have become.  *her fingers slip between his and she squeezes them*  I am not so easily shaken, you see.  Not so easily thrown by mistakes in the past.  You can, my love take a chance on trusting who you see before you.  Someone with scars of her own.  Someone with pains that occasionally still sting, like a phantom injury - but a woman, who knows how to face forward, when what is behind them - is just that. ___________ 'It doesn't matter what we fought about...' Hermione set her own cup down and sighed inwardly and closed her eyes for a moment, letting the now definitely guarded tone he'd spoken in wash over her.  It had been such a long time since she'd -wanted- any type of relationship like this.  In truth she'd resigned herself to being without a companion that inspired her and ignited her within.  Mentally he stimulated her and physically she itched to touch him, mark him, taste him.  - And he seemed to want to hold that connection at bay - so, she clung to their spiritual connection.  He was going to have to be truthful with her if this would ever work.  Divided they would fall.  Untied - she was sure they could withstand anything.  Hermione also knew he was unused to having a woman who could stand by his side and who he wanted there.  She too had grown accustomed to living her life without the guidance of a shared partner.  Though she'd had it before, it had seemed like a faded picture on yellowed paper now.  She'd grown complacent  in her life and her career.  Love the family and friends she surrounded herself with.  And then this man comes along and like a tidal wave she was swept up and away, carefree in her abandon of what being with him would entail.  To her - it was simple.  You wanted to be together - so.. Be together.  But, she never had to uphold to the standards that these old-wizarding-blood families did... A hand on her knee jarred her from her thoughts and she started at the intimate touch - eyes opening with a pop and turning to face him- unsure how to tell him he should be open with her.. she could handle it.*   Everything matters.  Your friendships matter.  YOU matter.  *Hermione forced a smile, hoping it seemed genuine, her own hand sliding over his upon her knee*  Right here with you is where I want to be.   But *her voice faltered*  I want you to know...  *she squeezed his hand gently*  to understand and realize that you can tell me -anything-.    I know I don't deserve your trust yet, but you -can- trust me.   Just as I am trusting you.  Every day we move forward we put a few more bricks upon the foundation of us, my love.  They -must- be rooted in trust and honesty.  Do not try to spare my feelings in hopes of keeping me happy.  For I am -already- happy, and prefer to walk with my vision clear, rather than placated with rose-colored glasses.    _____________________

Name: Kise IzumiAge: look's 20 but is 680Gender: Male Species: Wolf Demon GodHair color: Short spiky black hair and at each end of the spikes are red.Eye color: Dark redSexual Orientation: Bi-sexualStatus: SingleOccupation: Bounty HunterHome Town: Wolf Pack Island (Germany)Tattoos/Piercings: A red tear drop underneath his left eye and a purple,red rose on his left shoulder blade./He has snake bites and his ears pierced.

~ THE PERSIAN EMPIRE ~ TRADING PLACES || BĀZĀR || A bazaar (Persian: بازار) is a permanent merchandising area, marketplace, or street of shops where goods and services are exchanged or sold. The word derives from the Persian word bāzār, the etymology of which goes back to the Pahlavi (Parthian language) word baha-char (بهاچار) meaning "the place of prices". The Bazaar was more than a simple market or a trade centre, it was the backbone of the city, containing a vast gathering of buildings. Also, it was one of the most important achievements of Persian civilization. The Bazaar of Babylon was known to be the longest roofed market in the known world. It had about 5 km (3miles) of shopping streets (raste), some with brick arches, some with poplar beams, over a hundred caravanserais and sarais, innumerable covered halls (timce) and connecting wings (dehliz). The Bazaar was also used as the main street in Babylon and a place for meeting people, seeing and being seen. Basically it acted as a real heart of the city. By counting the great number of madrasa (colleges that were not only intended for religious studies but also for the study of sciences such as philosophy, astronomy, mathematics and chemistry), shrines and hammams (public baths that were not only a place of cleaning, but also an important place for cultural interactions and social contacts, especially for women) in the Bazaar it can be easily understand to what extent the Bazaar acted as the center of Babylon. There were more than one hundred fifty shirines dedicated to the worshiping of Ahura Mazda, fifty madrasa and almost two hundred hammams, if not more. Also, there were some other small buildings in the bazaar such as water stores, warehouses and stables. All the retailers in the bazaar were grouped according to their wares in separate quarters of the market. This way, it would be very easy for people to find the best products with the best price in a place in a short time. The distribution of jobs in the bazaar was based on the following factors: attraction of products (for example artist's shops were located in the main square, before the palace, because of the high number of tourists who preferred to buy there), providing security (for example gold merchants were strategically situated close to the Fire Temple, in the central part of the city, to provide the best security for them; groceries were located in more far off areas), compatibility of businesses (the more compatible crafts were located in the same area, for example cereal shops and spice shop), incompatibility of crafts (the crafts with less compatibility were located in separate parts, for example blacksmiths and druggists). Senf The aims of establishing senf (a Persian term designating a number of people who are involved with the same kind of business or craft in a bazaar) were: craft examination of everybody who wanted to start a business or craft in bazaar i.e., control over, which merchants were allowed to sell at the bazaar; checking the quality of products before selling them, i.e., control over the quality of what is sold; creation of support of the benefits of all members as well as customers (It was a set of support in every senf for all the members and also a kind of support for unsatisfied buyers who had complaints about any of the shopkeepers); preservation of cleanliness in every part of the bazaar by provision of cleaning crews or making sure that the shopkeepers did it themselves. The gradation of members in every senf was usually based on their experience. The chief of each senf was called kadkhoda. There were also some other positions, called mohtaseb, who were responsible for keeping order in the bazaar. Mohtaseb roamed the bazaar to remind sellers to be honest and fair and also to investigate to clients' complaints about any cheating in trades or the quality of goods. Four important regulations, which should be controlled by the mohtaseb were cleanliness, noise, crowding of people, and movement of animals in the bazaar. The primary movement system of the bazaar forms a central linear circulation space, called raste, splendidly domed throughout its length, parallel to which on both sides run the small regular dependent spaces of shops. Between them, at frequent intervals, arched entrances lead to the larger spaces-caravanserais, colleges, bathhouses, shrines and stores, all tightly connected to the central spine yet each a separate, self-contained world. The intersection of two rastes was called chaharsuq(meaning "four bazaars" in Persian, because it was a centre from which four different markets extended). Several peripheral rastes connected to the main street. These peripheral rastes acted as small bazaars for similar products, such as raste for shoemakers. The width of the main raste, leading from the gates of the city to the main square in front of the palace was about seven meters and in peripheral raste something between four and five meters. The raste also connected neighborhood residential areas to the bazaar. Through these residential alleys the bazaar was connected to the whole of the city. The number of these routes (raste) depended on the development of trade at different areas. Being closer to the main street always increased the value of peripheral routes. Almost all parts of the raste in the Bazaar were roofed. In some areas close to the old square temporary non-wooden roofs were applied, but most of the Bazaar was roofed by vaulted brick roofs. The height of the roof differed in different parts of the Bazaar. In some places, like in front of madrasa or shrines and in the chaharsuq (intersection of two rastes) the roof was higher than other areas to highlight the importance of these spaces. || KĀRVĀNSARĀYI || Caravanserai, which was considered the most important space in the bazaar, was a hostel for caravans and individual travelers, with provisions for trade. The wholesale merchandise from outside the city was sold there to the retailers in the bazaar, thus the caravanserai acted as a "filter". There were more than 100 caravanserais in the bazaar of Babylon. They were basically designed to accommodate travelers as well as land loads of camels and horses, to transfer them into shops. In some caravanserais shops were also designed. These single or double storied buildings consisted of a courtyard surrounded by several rooms. The rooms in the second floor were residences for travelers and the first floor stores, shops and stables. These caravanserais were placed in both sides of raste or close to the intersection between two bazaars (chaharsuq). Sarāyi Sarai was a double storied complex of shops with the same business, which were located around a non-roofed courtyard, usually containing a garden. The sarai was attached to the raste through a narrow corridor, called dehliz or dalan. There were many shops located in both sides of the dehliz. Those corridors acted as mini-markets for the products, which were related to the sarai. Every corridor or peripheral raste was separated from the main street (raste) with a door. By closing those doors at night the security of each part could be guaranteed. Though they appeared to be quite similar, there were some differences between sarai and caravanserai. The main difference was in their size. Caravanserais were larger and with more functions. The location of caravanserais was closer to the neighborhood residential areas than sarais. The main function of caravanserais was to accommodate and host travelers and foreign merchants, but sarais usually served as economical complexes. In those double storied complexes usually shops were located in the first floor and factories in the second floor; those stories are connected via a foyer and stairs. In some cases shops were connected to the courtyard through an iwan (veranda) and in some cases there was not any level difference or iwan between the shop and the courtyard. Timce Timce was an economic complex, which was designed like sarai but smaller and also often roofed. In timce some shops were located around a courtyard. These timces in the Bazaar acted as shopping complexes for special products. Shops and workshops, called hojreh, were simplest and smallest, but they were the most important elements of a bazaar. The shops were located in both sides of the raste and corridors. These were mostly double-storied, but in some parts of the bazaar with less importance, these stores were single-storied. The first floor of shops was usually a factory or a commercial space, while the second floor was a warehouse or an office for commercial trades. The area of the shops was between 10 and 25 m2. All the shops and workshops in the bazaar were separated from the streets (raste and corridors) with steps. This difference between the level of the shop and the street was related to the kind of business and craft inside the shop. For example, the level of shops in some parts was about 15 cm above the route, and in some cases (usually workshops), it was 15 cm lower. The connection of shops or workshops to the streets was based on their functions. In some parts of the bazaar such as druggist stores or provisions stores, shops were in more contact with customers and people were able to come in and evaluate the quality of products to select. In some other parts such as coppersmith's raste, shops were connected to the Bazaar through a long corridor (inside the shop) to increase the safety of the raste. In some other parts, like the raste for goldsmiths', shops were higher than the level of the bazaar to guarantee the security of the shop. The value of shops was related to their distance from the main street of bazaar. Closer to the main raste, the value of the shop was higher. But in general, the most expensive shops in the bazaar of Babylon were located around the main square. These shops had two doors; one of them was opened to the square and another one to the internal layer of the bazaar located behind the square.

~ THE PERSIAN EMPIRE ~ IMPORT and EXPORT || TRADING ROUTES || Land Routes Sea Routes || IMPORTED Goods || From THE HAN EMPIRE (China) From HINDUSTAN (India) From YAWADVIPA (Indonesia) From SAKĀSTAN (Scythia) From MUDRĀYA (Egypt) From ARABĀYA (Arabia) || EXPORTED Goods || To THE HAN EMPIRE (China) To HINDUSTAN (India) To ARABĀYA (Arabia) To THE ROMAN REPUBLIC

Name: Mayuri KurotsuchiAlias(s): NoneSex: MaleRace/Species: ShinigamiAge: At least 400 years oldBirthday: March 30thSign: AriesFamily: Nemu(artificially created daughter)Birthplace: UnknownOccupation: Shinigami, Captain of Squad Twelve, Scientist, President of the Department of Research and DevelopmentHeight: 5' 8 1/2"Weight: 119 lbs.Eye Color: GoldHair: BlueWeapons/Equipment: Zanpakuto(Ashisogi Jizo), Nikubakudan(Flesh Bomb), Hojiku-Zai(Flesh-mending Drug), Bount Sensor, Data-gathering Bacteria, Superhuman Drug, Anti-Arrancar Mine, Thought Inhibitor Drug, Modified Body Parts.Attributes: Genius intellect, master chemist, master strategist, body modification expert, expert swordsmanship specialist, Kido expert, Shunpo expert, great spiritual power, enhanced endurance.Bio:

Well here it is my rules. The following are what ever rper should have.  No godmodding! No Autoing no taking over MY CHARACTER WITHOUT PERMISSION!  I do not rp novelle because my attention span is short so if you're a novelle rper only be kind to me and delete me please.  Keep OOC aka RL and IC aka RP ...SEPERATE! This confuses the shit out of me Yes I cuss so does my character. Can't handle it? I ain't changing it too fucking bad. If yer bored with the story line don't ignore me cause that's RUDE and I don't like rudeness here. Talk to me I understand ok? I get bored too hell we all do. I don't expect you , yes you reading this, to reply right away. We all have lives outside this. I do I work etc etc so if ya start harping me or giving me crap..guess what? You and I will be talking about this. If ya still can't get it..well it's called the good ol delete button. Keep true to your character please. I welcome cross overs but I don't want some DC character to start carrying a lightsaber got it? Good. I like shooting the shit, I hate snobs. Ain't one person here better than anyone else. Ah yes...I have a hard time spelling certain words..I am dyslexic. If you think this is funny..kiss my ass! Don't ask me to figure numbers out that shit confuses the fuck out of me. On this topic..anyone here thinks it's funny going around thinking this is high school...just be lucky I don't know where you live. I do not tolerate cyber bullying. If you are some snot nose brat bored and starts shit..you better just delete your account if you even think about starting crap with me. Yes I sounds like a bitch but if anyone here as been bullied while rping it takes the fun out of it.  Well that's about it folks. Um..sign how ya want to. peace love and tatertot

Race: HumanGender: MaleHair colour: Strawberry blonde with red highlightsEye colour: GreyRelations: The SocietyBiography:sci fi GenreConner was orphaned after his father died in the early years of the Iraq War and his mother killed, both accused as 'traitors of the nation' but were in fact agents of an organization he was taken after their deaths to help stop a secret war to liberate Earth from a race of hostile aliens.Powers and abilities:Conner's enhanced senses allow him to feel other's spiritual auras in range, keen sight to fire at distant range and incredible stamina for swordsmanship.

Harry James (/245110)Christmas time was always a wonderful time for Genevieve. The season was filled with everything she adored: family, friends, freshly baked pastries and time off from work. This season; however, was a mess for the ginger girl. Her home piled with files, paperwork, knickknacks and everything that would belong in her office in London. The Minister of Magic sent his best out on the field in fear of a rebellion from former Death Eaters. It was a challenge, and did Genevieve love challenges and everything included except one thing: the time. It felt as if time was slipping away from the woman, being kept from her family and possibly future-husband. Of course, him being an Aurror and Gen's line of work mixed occasionally and this wasn't one of them. Genevieve bundled herself up, pulling her coat close to her body as she walked the uneven streets. The heel of her boots clicking with every step and her hair in front of her face, just as its always been. Having the scar over her eye was never a pleasant thing, even going through school at Hogwarts. Though there Harry Potter outshined her which kept her under the radar. The people around her, speaking her native tongue, it was overwhelming. A part of her didn't want to return to London in the new year while the other part fought with her reasoning. "These muggles are pathetic, I don't know why Carrow picked this pathetic--" Genevieve overheard, tilting her gaze to see a pair of bodies disappear in the crowd. Widen eyes, the ginger quickly pushed her way through the crowd. 'Carrow? They were dead, or maybe they had a son? Couldn't be, we have everyone on record' the girl though, trying to match her eyes with the voices she heard. The crowd took control and lost the pair. Strangely enough, Genevieve wasn't surprised. It was a small town, but not small enough to get lost in the streets. Blowing the hair out of her face, she returned to her home to write down the event. Just knowing that 'Carrow' was being mentioned again made the woman sick to her stomach. The Ministry was right, they had a reason to fear of an uprising of old ways. Gasping to herself, Genevieve ran out of her office to the downstairs fireplace, grabbing a hand full of floo powder and clearly stated, "Ministry of Magic, Department of Law Enforcement" before sticking her head in. "Hello? Hello is anyone there!" she called out, looking around. "Miss McKnight? How are you! It's so wonderful to see you!" she heard a small squeal. The girl had to hold back an eyeroll, "Please tell me you aren't the only one here, Bones." she said looking at the girl who nodded her head. "Yes I am, everyone's left already. Something about a festivity down at the Leaky Cauldron." she said with a small shrug, "Is there anything I can do for you?" she said and Geneveive shook her head before disappearing once more. The information she carried was too sensitive to tell an intern. The next morning, Genevieve decided to carry out her lead and possibly receive concrete information on what she overheard. It was possible that she was just imagining it, making stories in her head so she had something productive to do. With a warm cup of coffee in her hands and the snow lightly falling on the grounds, she waited. Translating everything she heard, not one of them spoke about witches, muggles, or even the Carrow. Letting out a soft sigh of defeat, she brought the cup up to her lips and drank as her eyes took in the scenery. What she couldn't believe was a black haired man with bright green eyes. "It can't be." she whispered to herself, pushing herself off of the metal chair, leaving the coffee on the table and walked towards the man, pushing her way in the small crowd of people in her way. Same hair, same eyes, and a scar?! Genevieve couldn't believe herself. "I can't believe my eyes," she started softly once she made her way to the male, "It's Harry Potter, in the flesh." she said, her lips cracked a small smile.Harry James Potter... He was famous, you know.  If only in the magical world. He hated it. Oh of course, at first it was flattering and he felt that he had worth. He had purpose. He wasn't used to people being nice to him, so from age 11 and up, every school year, being doted on by people who really didn't know him, boosted his ego. They would see that damned scar and fall over themselves to talk to him, even if it was only a minute. Unless of course they were Malfoy and his bunch of lackeys. He grew to hate the recognition, but to live with it.After the war and Voldemort's defeat he tried his hand at moving forward in the magical community. He is an Auror by profession, one that he actually takes very serious... But he needed more. He needed to find his identity. He was no longer the Chosen One, or the BOY Who Lived.. Because he was no longer a boy, and the war.. well hell, it was over now. Now, he was simply Harry Potter. And he wanted to know... Who is Harry Potter?So, with some thought and discussion among his friends - Harry took a leave of absence from his position and began to travel. He learned to speak Japanese in japan. He learned Italian in Italy. He began writing in Prague and cooking in Belgium. He studied art and music and theater. And now he was in France painting landscapes of the countryside, and photographing the people he meets. He enjoys his life. He uses very little magic unless a kid at the grocery store is screaming. He will then just wave his hand and send over a lollipop when the mum's not looking.France... He took to the country like he was native. The language was surprisingly easy for him to pick up and understand, although he still sounded like a stuttering child learning when he tried to speak it. The land itself is beautiful, and Harry appreciated beauty. His favorite time was morning. The air was crisp. The sun peeking through leaving those early morning shadows. Shadows that no longer scare him.  Every morning Harry would get up, no matter the weather and take a walk. Normally he stayed just around his loft, but today he walked a little further. It was the first snow of the season, and there was something about snow that set his mood. He loved the holidays. He loved winter. The songs, the good cheer. It had an almost festive feeling for three months. And to Harry, snow just made it all the better.So he got dressed in warm jeans, a black t-shirt and his heavy down jacket. Wandered into town and found a small caf� that served breakfast. As he sat down he took out his copy of the Daily Prophet and began reading of the current events and goings on in the magical world. Apparently it was Carlotta Pinkstone's 100th birthday and the celebration they had in London blew out anything that Queen had ever thrown. He chuckled, Hermione begged him to come back for that. Now he thought perhaps he should have.When the server introduced herself Harry ordered a cup of coffee, with two creamers and five sugars along with eggs and toast. He never lowered his paper until his food came. He ate leisurely, nibbling and sipping and reading. He looked around and kicked himself for not bringing his camera with him. The people there, on this morning, were interesting to say the least.After finishing, he paid the server and left her a tip, even though in most European countries tipping is frowned upon, he does it anyway - something he picked up on in the states. He wanted her to know she was appreciated. He folded up his paper and passed by a few tables on his way out when she spoke up.He looked around thinking she had made a mistake until he heard her say his name. He narrowed his eyes searching for familiarity. He didn't want to be rude if he knew her. "It is I.. In the flesh." He chuckled. "If I were not in the flesh, you would have something to tell the grandkids.." he had no idea why he said that, filling up the air with words.

*Mac was strolling along in the arboretum, pushing Erryn in her stroller. His wife was with her grandmother, Riona. Mac had never met her, but was anxious to do so. Any family of Alex's was his family too.*

Welcome to the Cave'The cave is a rules and also an informational blog on myself rping The Batman, I've roleplayed since 2004 and played Batman for as long as that. I'm a well known RPer from Myspace and I have faced the best of them and I'm still around to this date. I'm the original leader of the first JLA, before Onslaught showed up on myspace and a core member of the council members of the JLX with Green Arrow (Ollie) on myspace. I'm also a first gen Comic RP vet. This does not mean I am better than everyone it means I have more experience than alot of people and I have taught alot of RPers the trade of it also'-Player note.Rules & InformationFirst things first, my rules are information on letting those know on how I RP and what I expect if none of them are ok with any of your type of roleplay please just delete me off your list. I do not have time for pettiness.1) No god modding, pretty much a given I control my character so no autoing either thank you.2) I'm a para to multi para RPer, not a fan of Novella type as it's just full of unneeded filler/padding. This doesn't mean I don't like lengthy RP I do if it's a point of the story. I use pictures as illustrative purposes for a visual medium I'm a RPer of a comic verse not a book writer.3) I do use pictures in my RPs, but I have somewhat come across some gifs that are pretty good also to use I will inform you or you should take warning that some maybe fast paced gifs  if you are epileptic please take heed of this and let me know if you are I will not post such pics/gifs if that is the case.4) Relationships and love, Bruce is single he will however flirt within RPs but As Batman that will not be the case he has the will power not too. As for Marriage sorry but may not happen unless it gives me new RP angles. If it's a long on going Story arc in which he gets married but something happens I will allow this. Just casually getting Married in RP has no reason or qualities unless your character is married to that character in comics or has a RP SL reason, but other than that not needed thank you.5) I will play 18+ I am an adult I expect you to be adults also. Most stories will have graphic or mention of blood, gore, rape and sex along with nudity and bad language. I'm in a criminal type verse along with being comic book verse.6) If you happen to be upon my list either I accepted your request or I happen to be interested in some kind of RP SL with you. If you do not contact me I will and if you do not RP or feel that my style isn't your thing expect to be deleted or you can remove me from your list. My patients have their limits when it comes to RP. Sure we all have our RL but it only takes five minutes to type up a reply I know because I have timed it.  7) When I RP I do it fairly, as in I will not pull weapons out of my ass that I wouldn't expect to have before hand. Unless I packed them I will state it or if I didn't state it I will state how I got ahold of it. 8) Roleplay sex, I'm not here for it. But as I stated my RP style is 18+ thats means I will either mention it or it may happen at some point depending story and character. This does not mean however I will do it with any woman and yes I am straight, it also will not happen to Batman himself only Bruce Wayne.9)  I Rp Bruce Wayne and Batman, I will combat in RP I will do detective deductive reasoning. To work things out. I will do charities I will do my business role. I am all these things.9.1) Added I also am roleplaying as Robin/Damian Wayne on the same profile, the reason of this is I have not met one person RPing Damian to stick around for long so I have taken it upon myself to RP him on the same profile.9.2) This does not mean Damian/Robin will be in every roleplay I do, my main character is Bruce Wayne/Batman, Damian will pop up depending on story and if I feel it would add more to it to have a second angle on situations to RP both Batman & Robin and if I feel I want more to work with or give who I am RPing with more to work with.9.3) Will I do roleplays with Damian only? This will depend on the story, my main is still Bruce Wayne/Batman this will not change, the addition of Damian is to get a new perspective and more to work with not just for myself but for who I am roleplaying with.9.4) I only control Damian so please do not god mode him and say he goes somewhere I don't want him too, much like if I was controlling my main character. 10) As a comic crime verse I will accept cross overs with other charcters from other companies. I'll do alternative Timeline SLs and Alternate realities. Though my basic Batman is Prime Earth Bruce Wayne. I will accept some OCs I do not expect you all to RP just like I do we are all different. If you have anything else to ask just message me.  11) Please take heed within RP and what it actually is, Roleplay is not about a set in stone SL, it has it's twists and turns it's journeys and battles and love interests. Roleplay is all of this, interesting that alot seem to not grasp that concept. If you pull out some poison or an unexpected hostage situation it's all good to challenge myself that is what RP is challenge. Not who has the bigger dick, if you understand that term. 12) Don't just to conclusions which Batman I am playing, to be honest I play my own Batman taking inspiration from many aspects of the character. I use the on going 52 version of Batman, with a big mix of pre flashpoint backgrounds. So it means pre flashpoint or post flashpoint it doesn't matter to me I'll play with you within the same universe unless you want it to be an alternate universe. 

A hand rummaged through the desk drawer of a very large, expensive antique oak desk.  Julian knew he didn't have much time before his father returned and so he wanted to get in and out as soon as possible.  It wasn't the first time he'd found himself hunting through Lorenzo's desk, looking for his cheque book.  Julian did it frequently whenever he needed a quick sum of cash that Lorenzo wouldn't give to him.  He felt a sense of entitlement to his father's money.  Finding what he was looking for he pulled it out of the drawer triumphantly.  He took a seat in the wood, leather and studded office chair that didn't look to be too far removed from a throne.  Grabbing a pen, Julian wrote out a cheque for cash, forging Lorenzo's signature for 20,000 dollars.   More than that and he knew Lorenzo would question it.   A little bit here and there, had seemed thus far to have gone unnoticed by his father.  "What are you doing?" A voice caused Julian's heart to jump into his throat.  Standing there in the doorway to his office was his father.  Quickly closing the cheque book before Lorenzo saw it Julian stuttered at first trying to think of something quick to say that would explain why he was there.  "Oh... I..I..I... was just balancing your cheque book.." Julian stood up again watching the elder man walking over to the desk. Lorenzo reached for the cheque book only to have Julian step in the way of his arm knocking it offside.  "Grand dad?  I gotta go.." A seventeen year old boy stuck his head around the corner of the door. He had a guitar slung over his shoulder in a carry case.  "Ma wants me home for supper."  Lorenzo turned his face to look at Pax.  "Alright Pax.  I'll see you tomorrow." Pax nodded.  "Bye.."  He'd already taken his first steps down the corridors when he called back.  "Bye Uncle Julian."  Minutes later a car door outside opened and shut and the old beat up Lincoln in the circular driveway started up.   "There goes a good boy."  Lorenzo often regretted the way he'd given in to Julian's every greedy need for money, cars, anything else he wanted up until Julian had reached the age of twenty. Unlike Pax, Julian hadn't learned what it was like to not get everything he wanted until he was an adult.  And although Lorenzo wanted to spoil Pax, his son and daughter in law, Pax's parents had other ideas how to bring up their son.  Now, in hindsight Lorenzo realized that they'd been right all along.  Pax's compassion for others and independence were treasured characteristics that Lorenzo unfortunately had never seen in his own eldest son, Julian.  "I sometimes wish I was harder on you growing up.  Perhaps then, you would have learned the true value of money and working for it.  Not just waiting for me to hand it to you when you thought you needed it."   He'd sent Julian to all the best schools money could buy, and yet his no good dead beat son seemed to just be biding his time thinking that he didn't need to work because he was only a matter of a few years away from an inheritance that he'd never be able to spend in his entire lifetime.  Julian didn't know it, but he was in for a shock upon Lorenzo's death.   The old man reached down picking up the cheque book and opened it.  "You wouldn't try to steal it.."  He finished glancing down at the cheque Julian had tried to forge in his name.  "I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago." Lorenzo's voice was heavy with regret as his eyes lifted to fix on those of his greedy son.  "Pack your bags Julian.  I want you out of my house.  It's about time you learned how to support yourself." Julian's world seemed to come crashing down around him.  "No. Pa, please...?" Julian didn't want to be cut off. "GET OUT!" Lorenzo ordered turning his back on his son he was about to walk away when Julian reacted by snatching up a heavy paper weight on the desk and swinging it with all his might at the back of the old man's head.  "You won't cut me off you old bastard!  I'll kill you before I let that happen!"  He dropped to his knees where Lorenzo had fallen and hit him again, and again, and again and again until the back of Lorenzo's skull was caved in.  Blood splattered everywhere, over the desk, walls, chair, polished floors, and all over Julian and his face.  He didn't stop pounding until Lorenzo was barely even recognizable.   Blood seeped through the wounds at the back of his head, through his mouth nose and ears onto the wooden floors.  Julian didn't stop beating his father until long after he'd stopped moving all though the first couple of skull fractures would have been enough to kill him.     When he was finally tired he stopped, standing up and dropped the paper-weight to the floor beside Lorenzo's motionless body.  He wiped the top of his head with the sleeve of his jacket only to have the blood smear across his brow.  "See what you made me do you old fool!" He kicked Lorenzo in the ribs as a final act of defiance.  After disposing of the murder weapon, he took a shower, cleaned himself up then burned of his clothes in the incinerator before going back into Lorenzo's office and making a mess, pulling free drawers, files and anything else to make it look like a robbery had gone wrong before finally calling 911.

The Barn [Both flashback & Present] Jason, Shalimar Fearless obedient in social mute constricted breeze flow interaction, agreed in occasional and gradual timid adjustment in the cold stung air. That streamed on a vague flow underneath and through sporatic semi- cracked a'jar broidened (strong hold) guarded windows. Tremblin' water-works were in fact repetitious in a almost assault taunt in thrushing submerge washes slained against the lower iron induced exterior of the Yatch's outside structure. Fluctuation keened-in accepted obedience that surrendered through each vivid interact ripple shuffle of lake water that continues maintaining social nag the late fall atmosphere rendered in the drafting blows (winds). That did eventually reduced against an unresistable current, and/or pentalizing tide for a lake that is. Thus long-assed shadow fire rapids increased during a cold spue bombarding inside the common level living room. It wasn't as worse off as most would bash off complaints about, giving the fact we're not sailing aboard on the dead cold of the ocean - that and their is a gigantic mountain blockage for preventing the full course of the expected climate for being this late in the season. Destination claimed this spot about a good few footed miles opposite at least, a two hours give or take, swim or paddle up the creak. North and East is baracaded off in the middle of the Ozark Mountains, on the opposite is a court of either espionage cia relation departments, MO-Bureau, Basic Black [Spy FBI, CIA Division], the WSB spy agency aka World Security Bureau, Black Ops, and a handfull of Bourne Enterprises businesses including Webb Bio, to enlist several businesses. Each single-one remained in a secluded retained terrain (area), Missouri as we all witnessed as been a heart of unpreserved, official and/or unofficial business standard growth. The world breaks everyone and afterward most are provened strong at the broken places, thus Jason contimplated an understanding the bull shit that Shalimar has dealt with since square one of her period in Genomex and beneath Mason Ekhart's brutal and betrayal control. You provide an organization your entire-self just about, believing in this piece of Government controlled operation then BAM! Without valuable and/or validated 'heads up' things weren't what we thought. Treadstone/Blackbriar wasn't nothing short different from Genomex, to be broad-minded out spoken an up front, there is a CIA owned lab in their covert-ops operations agencies where there is a shit load of subject testing. A second independence covert intelligence unissued for discussion team, proclaimed to be for a straight forward black ops code that calls themselves Operation Outcome. Operation Outcome is a so-called pg-13th concept of cloaking it's realistic black-listing motivational unrestricted tactics, aka it's our basic Treadstone, but without the inconsistency. A member of Operation Outcome, a Devense Department black ops program which enhances the physical and mental abilities of field operatives through pills referred to as "chems". Meanwhile, the Blackbriar and Treadstone programs are publicly exposed, Jason refused the risk - severe threats in the chance of allowing certain mole agents getting off scott-free. Thus leading the FBI and Select Committe on Intelligence to investigate ex-CIA Dep. Director Pamela Landy, besides it eliminated her none-stop stalking obsession with JB, the bitch induced a killer serum in his vials that would of caused his genetic enhanced blood to scramble in kaous--cause him on the brink to a damn mental break-down or short temper until he collapsed into a permanent coma that's what the 'killer agent' would of done. When Jason stated he'd be the last man standing, if that is what it took to stay alive, that's what he is set on to do--because he'll live to protect his kids, family, friends and to be damn sure no one gets corrupted by people like this. So guess it's as if he is breathing to make amends, clean up the underground ops of the Government's messes. Blackbriar's ex- new Treadstone clinical superivsor and researcher Dr. Albert Hirsch and CIA Director Exra Kramer. Kramer requests help from Eric Byer, a retired Air Force colonel responsible for overseeing the CIA's clandestine operations. Byer discovers potentially damaging video on the Internet in which the lead researchers for Treadstone and Outcome appear together at professional functions in public. To prevent the Treadstone investigation from finding and revealing Outcome's top-secret scientific advances, Byer decides to end Outcome and kill its agents. He sees this sacrifice as acceptable because the government has already separately initiated next-generation "beta programs" like LARX. Villains do fall, and when it's their time it's for good - in the end of a afternoon's final hour or an assignment the thing he lives for the most, is rejoining to his home, doing family activities with his kids and grandkids. Building motorcycles, rebuilding engines but getting his kids involved, it's more personal and means something at the end of the night, then holding his wife feeling her heart's thrusting vibration, knowing he's worth it whilst he tells her each hour of the day, that she is worth everything and doesn't regret a thing in their life that they've accomplished together -and loving her is just the beginning of how important she is to him. "There is a saying in Tibetan, 'Tragedy should be utilized as a source of strength.'No matter what sort of difficulties, how painful experience is, if we lose our hope, that's our real disaster." "You have power over your mind - not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength." Stout-hearted �@ desolation Windsome espionage �@ [ Now] [occ: Shalimar can read this one. The last remark is for her.] Part I Leaving the Yatch to the Missouri Beau- Department [Bourne Enterprises Basic Black/Black Ops.] The marriage wasn't at a downfall prior of Shalimar asking for JB's help, due to the fact that Kat and he had a fun night on the Ship where an assignment occurred he rode her back on his motorcycle. Afterwards he spent owned and claimed hours working in-on odd hours in the damn barn on a anniversary present for his wife Kat, when this all decided to blow up in his damn face! It doesn't matter his wife walked out on him, truth is he wasn't worth it to her. However it wasn't going black out how it'll effect him being a father, a good father at that or a possible husband for who he meets in the future, but it'll take a lot for him to come around for that. For not it's his kids, grandkids, extended family, and work. " You don't think I am able to commit to this? I am not afraid of you or the government goons. Don't forget I built 'Black Ops' do you acknowledge what it stands for? The conduct that goes on with it? The black listed cases and investigations, assignments that are involved ? It isn't normal---my grandfather James, Sgt. James C. Bourne to be exact died giving a demon his life in exchange that I live through the ordeal of the whole river incident that the fisherman pulled me out of. Paranormal has been around me. Do you realize the Government's fear of me being release was because they were scared of me--and what I could do. This blood is not normal human man blood no more either Shalimar, ever since Black Briar decades ago--i have not been an average man. You want secrets, i've been genetically enhanced." he obided official truth he came out and invested as a trust in telling her how it is. Whilst including her in on how he is able to handle just about what is thrown at him, with the actual facts that he wasn't normal or unacknowledged of mutants. Zoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom. Adrenaline gashed wind rushed underneath the notorious trusted Harley's, strong obedient firestone rear tire as it driven through the ominious woods. Shalimar left on a handed over jeep left at the peak of the forest trail, Jason didn't stick around neither. Neither did he neglect his priorities ever! Including being a husband and father first, with that comes occasional sacrifices. Such as a man who is dead on protecting his own, (family) no matter the cost - that is original ex-marine instinct in him also that enhances the natural husband and father instincts. Although as men we don't speak it out loud, but it does make a difference that we are wanted, wanted by the woman we give our entire selves to-- About an actual half hour he stauled at the destination of arriving at Bourne Enterprises, their secondary Black Ops Beau-division it claimed discreet providential enclosed in neighborhoods in the heart gut center of Missouri's district offices. Business were among many, ventures Jason has been accustomed to. --but the last time this primary visit was a definite long time coming. Jet black, steel Harley Davidson 'notorious' cycle, parked outside. Cock-eyed leaned, in a specific CEO parking space, while blank spaces were lined on each side, in front of the Superior Buildings' frontal entrance. Interior lobby consisted of interacting activit, but sporatic and casual voices shacked open spaces. In conducted meetings, in randomized offices from a far, outside in the conjested halls-several secretaries mumbled underneath their relevant conversations. Jason attentively, assertive at the same scenerio, semi-cocked a dominant brow, diverted his attention and ocean blue hues over to briefly observe them. Shrugged his broad shoulders-covered over as the rest of his muscular upper-torso by a partially opened, black shirt. Part II Leaving the Yatch to the Missouri Beau- Department [Bourne Enterprises Basic Black/Black Ops.] Division 24 had produced some muted mysterious, equipment involving Spy, assassination, official government usages. Enhanced creativity, in modern adanved electronics, not only for official purposes, military reasons-but for the publics reach for private cases that usually unofficial for an average investigation to proceed. For long years Jason produced a sufficient part of the business, for those who have gone rogue, includes ex-Mutants who seek out justice for the smaller man and/or woman - prevent the threats from corrupting the innocent minds. SJ his younger brother helped build it also. Of course different levels, styles not as extraodinary as other unsold-in the market. One example: is your typical GPS, devices are notorious known and valuable for society use today--whil'st we have had our own. This specific building, ruled vague secrets-meanwhile few were known. Matter of fact-inside this concrete mold, is where --well it'll be left to remain discussed on a latter notice. It's almost as if you were walking down a never ending, tunnel or a Bond flick gone darker "Only James Bond is not coming in on to this stories territory, besides he don't got a cool motorcycle---does he?" nope. Signature Bourne smirk groined abruptly against Jason's manly folds as if he triumphed a pitch to a home-run. Cascaded around business atmopsheric, lighting fixtures displayed fierce-fully. If nobody wasn't use to this, sure in hell they'd describe it as.' Taunting sun flashed, an imagine vividly within his watch's silver band. Quickly he pressed an arrow button, pointing up, concurrent motion elevator doors swung open. He steps his black boots on carpet flooring, as the doors colllided behind him. Sharply-revolved his strong physical physic around, landing' a sophisticated gleam in his blue hues-towards the levels. Reaching out, he pressed the command for the 13th floor, that had took no damn time to have reached. Secomd time, double doors swooshed open-Jason sharply, exited off, walked straight across-where he'd punched in numeric digits vastly. At the same time, gradually he narrowed his dark brows attentively drawn to his cell phone sharply going off.--whil'st the stealth door opens-Jason had retrieved his cell phone. Walking around the right side of this section of black glass, celtic table he shuts his cell stimultaneously removing a .32 out of the black buckle it was latched on. "What the hell? What the hell is that?" he discovered a so-called tree, standing dead smack center on his desk. If Jason was in the mood, he'd find this half ass amused. Arched his left manly brow, grabbed it an dropped it outside his office doors--assumed Max on purpose put it there. "What? It isn't even real. Those are.." gesturing a point of a mountain view of fern trees, answering everyone's huh facial expression as he semi amusingly shook his head whilst resuming into his office. Just as Shalimar thought the Jeep she is driving in, is going in the direction she intended on -- inside an underground parking lot of Black Ops. Clever tactic, Jason programmed the battery of the vehicle himself, without allowing Shalimar knowing about it. Especially knowing from experience, of her reputation for fighting against it (help), an unknown agent cracked "Leave." Jason's serious tone, meant the figure can depart the scene, Jas had this situation from here on out. Once he left, it was just Shalimar and himself , "Do all the fighting you want, but this is what is best for you. You can hate me, disapprove but I'm going to help..." an intolerant undebateable request of her being civil with him an agreeeing to let him in. Yet underneath the intolerance, Jason was being real and calm in his thick masculine voice. [Both Flashback & Present ] Jason, Shalimar, Lewis, Xavier Sullivan [aka Mulwary] Mutant X: Max Welcome to Bourne Enterprises: Basic Black WSB. Evidence provened more than a hell of enough perception of Kirill, his masked undercover covert opt tactic - has increased all nine kinds of mileage in the lacking department. Sufficient clearer observant for accessable "monitor" logical resources, ominious Kirill again explored the point his notorious reputation hasn't died out much. Isn't old ass expectations (news) of the obsessed ignorant idiot, who is bent on thinking, hiding out in an inconspicuous (hidden) corner - as so he thought wasn't going to work out for Kirill. Solid mental reflashed construction of the rated-r graphic memories skilled in, established rehashing those that relate of the hitman that Kirill once was brainwashed and trained. One responsible job Kirill had to succeed in, was eliminating Bourne, he attempted this the last confrontation. It all resulted in Kirill who tried to frame David Webb aka Jason Bourne -- yet as a end result Kirill of course failed in his plan. Thus a last one-on-one hand-to-hand gun point meet, left Kirill consumed in fatal-severe injuries. Surveiling an intolerant examine of the raw acknowledge status material of his subject claimed target, Jason's light ocean blue hues reflected an aware of a so-called bold jackass. In another words, described his malicious mark, as the beast with a colossal rump (---aka donkey). Bourne is undiscovered in a staked-out on-site, Basic Black headquarters roof top. A strong observant an forewarned sniper position atop of a unobtrusive building ledge. Brittle iron coal shingles engulfed underneath the masculine weight stumbled on the buckle of the roof--obedient in surrender of the just mentioned measure of notorious obsecure (hidden) discreet leather manly boots. "Disappearance act isn't just meant for one...." clues in on the wise eye-catch of the dark figure who vanished a staggered trail into the mist trap of inauspicious camoflaug of oblivious pedestrians--who's lives were enforced in an unknown risk - due to the fact it's possible this corrupt underground tunnel is headed for a programmed demolish stratus. ONE issue is the tickin' bomb is lodged on the inner tire rim of his hog. Uh-Yeah! It's as anyone'll advise the suspect might as well proceed finding an unmarked grave - Jason nudged a cock of his left dark manly brow, across is a henchman, Frank Martin a foreign internal agent who went rogue ten years ago and became known as a transporter, still he is a field agent who hid on another rooftop. Jason straight forward stated he got this, meet him inside the interrogation in about a half. 8:30 p.m. on the sustained dot a underground tunnel retained , the damn engine room manifested a sona swelter dispense throughout a restricted incarcerated base mechanics. Common referrence claims the machinery spaces of a vessel , to increase safety and damage survivability of a vessel, the machines demanded for operations might be segregated into various box-cock corners. the engine room is one of these spaces sort of resembles a huge ass sultic shack--generally it is the largest physical compartment of the machines authorized space. Heat elements incorporated throughout the Engine Room houses the vessel's prime mover. As usual a few variations of a heat engine--diesel engine, gas or steam turbine. Listening through mild shuffle dull echoing, Jason grab his .32 glok gun, is restraint at his order reach should it a useful defense attack mode, whilst he was scouraging slick down beside the dark narrow dynamics of a large percentage of vesedls--at an aggression crush solid ass end of the notorious gun; SHATTERS a combust blow at a violent stunt at the bolt locking a concealed canister. "territorial for-warned grounds. Far up their cracks--" heap of Bourne's aggitated yet semi-timid volumed manly grumbling voice, at a vast resumed reach of the box that pertained convinced evidence, "You want war Mason, you'll get it." idiot! For some odd months Mason Eckhart has proclaimed MIA himself, he evidentally left a piece behind. Brass hindges degraded into saw-dust it's unreluctant shutter during it's enclosure dismental echo; unpredictable urgent noticeable lights are out over the entire ceiling. Jason interupted the electrical devices, thus underground tunnel went 'lights out'. Repeated bleep red flash light was the damn size of a gulf ball! Jason adverts his ocean blue hues straght for his stationed motorcycle---oh hell no. Dismantles electrical wires, amusingly tore it off the steel rim of the rear adrenalin hunger for speed hog tire restored into his left ass pocket concealed for later. An unleashed ammunition released at a abundant course of action snagged into the suspense webb, thus Jason burrowed his hefty, dark manly brows a crease wrinkles embedded against his forehead simultaneous he catapults in full blown action whipping out his thirsty firearm shooting a feast of bullets at his threatening target. Sparks spasm at launched pistols taunting near and unshielded metal surfaces isolated around a grim of exploited electrical wires--and random machines. "AHHHHH!" thunderous ached pain thrusted out of the culprit's jaw-trap as it appears he stumbles limp with gushing river flow of blood from his brim knee caps. Jason hovered over the nameless culprit, in becoming a recognizeable identification of a man suspect in joining forces with Mason Eckhart. Grabs the wounded pompous off the concrete, drags him at the crucial grasp of his collar, prior of slapping handcuffs on both tied back hands. "Think about the next time, you decide growing a pair of balls in plotting a ticker on a man's bike--this is just the beginning of your rude awakening, and I'm just getting started for your punishment." Jason interrogated a straight warning, after feasting his adrenaline with a rush in the process, he grew semi calm. Nothing physical action can't achieve, now it's easing right in rational recess, Jason had to in order to bring out justice for everyone fallen victim to Genomex's Mason Eckhart, that'll conclude in an investigation done. Half an hour later, the captor is contained inside a four 10 ton concrete wall isolated interrogated room. There are "Law & Order" addicts everywhere who think they could get a perp to confess. A little glaring, some getting in the guy's face, a revelation that his fingerprints are all over the murder weapon and voil�! He's recounting his crime. In real life, police interrogation requires more than confidence and creativity (although those qualities do help) -- interrogators are highly trained in the psychological tactics of social influence. "Test results for the code-43 box, and personal background file out of the 'top secret' vault." down to the point, Jason requested information for the evidence he collected underground and the idiot he has locked up. Serena an employed secretary nodded, whilst she pressed for each department, he proceeded down the long ass halls, Jason scruffed up both his hefty black shirt's long sleeves at mid point, semi exposing his broad manly forearms simultaneously as he scans briefly through written documents he held in the palm of his robust manly hands. [Both Flashback & Present] Jason, Shalimar, Lewis Residential Denver, Colorado departure phased in an embarked return on Bourne Industries: Basic Black WSB. Substantial intolerable, guarded espionage bureau territorial grounds -reclaimed an located in the solemn heart of Ozark County's major district area. Individualistic Bourne proclaimed independent piece of permanent steel construction that is bolt slated on a durable pavement section, remained in-tack mint condition underneath a concrete hooded parking lot. Direct retained blocked spot, for randon tresspassers, or curious on-lookers, call it cock blocking because it is difficult to see through dark tint. JB's strong logical-minded had on occasion yielded to the internal adrenline junkie temperment, nothing that a dangerous earlier motorcycle hog ride couldn't fullfill that distinct ticking hunger inside. The rush we need, often to draw satisfaction in where it awakens that small amount of acknowledge of knowing what it is to be in the center of life. That taunting taste feening for what, it was like to feel alive, that isn't co-existing beneath the flesh - is not obselete [gone]. Something that trigger's our distilled and/or stone isolated hearts, to reinburst the meaning for thrusting content beating. Imagine it's been nothing short of a month since Jason, had known that sentimental taste of personal purpose and meaning. It didn't matter in the course of this sector of his life, he'll handle on how to deal and cope - in the meantime he is more than capable of balancing an occupying his mind elsewhere. The stainless steel black harley staked it's hard stick-stand against whilst keeping a steadied balance on the mechanic weight the hog induced at it's semi left tilt. As the suspensions choked in the two black rubber tire's bolts, it gassed an quenched exhale out of it's iron rear-ass engine. Jason understands the idea of feeling in containing no emotions, the unrestrictable understanding and taste of how it is to be or feel alive that he knows now with the ones he has been reconnected with decades later after being the governments dangerous tool. You become the government assholes top Agent, just as stead fast get cut throated without warning in becoming their number one target. This is the notorious gist of the flipped-turn in SJ and Jason's twisted forced world, an original biological identities to another you wake up too--but which one is real? Attacked with your own demanding questions that taunt the hell out of us. What if you forgot everything? You live moment to moment? What does the world become during this brutal hunt? Similar to the Law of the Jungle, it was every man for himself, anything goes. Survival of the strongest, survival of the fittest, kill or be killed, dog eat dog, and eat or be eaten--that is a blunt simple concept of how it was, what it took for SJ and him to survive before getting as far as being right here and now at this point. Genomex is nothing different in comparing vulgar methods with how Blackbriar controlled their subjects. Although the one difference that's possible to be detected out, is more or less damn circumstantial ----if that. Genomex yes is Mutant X-, where'as Treadstone is semi Espionage, the two do link at some point or another. Espionage or spyin' involves a government or individual obtaining information that is considered secret or confidential without the permission of the holder of the information. [Both Flashback & Present] Jason, Shalimar, Lewis Basic Black WSB. Mason Eckhart in custody. . Espionage is inherently clandestine, as it is taken for granted that is unwelecome and, in manny cases illegal and punishable by law. It is a subset of intelligence gathering---othersiw may be conducted from public sources and useful for legal and ethical means. It is crucial to distinguish espionage from intelligence gathering, as the latter does not necessarily involve espionage, but often collates open-source information. When successful, however espionage always produces intelligence. Espionage is often part of an institutional effort by a government or commerical concern. One of the most effective ways to gather data and information about an enemy (or potential enemy) is by infiltrating the enemy's ranks. This is the job of the spy (espionage agent).Spies can bring back all sorts of information concerning the size and strength of an enemy army. They can also find dissidents within the enemy's forces and influence them to defect. In times of crisis, spies can also be used to steal technology and to sabotage the enemy in various methods.The term is generally associated with state spying on potential or actual enemies primarily for military purposes, spying involving corporations is known as industrial espionage. Thing is Mason Eckhart hands down, the asshole is clever but not to an extent he is able to proceed on triumphanting at the end of his obsessed deception. Hiding, a constant attack at either Jason as personal target attack, or at people he protects, co-workers, his kids, family, wife and/or ex-wife and then failing at the attempt of doing the actual task. Just pisses him off more, then everyone crowds around, or waits with on edge questions about what he is going to next. What punishment is deserving enough, that'll force Mason in surrendering 'mercy', elimination? Hmm -the idea hasn't left his mind. " This is all legit?" there wasn't going to be any more room for set-backs, Jason requestioned Max's lab results of the jagged piece of metal that had blood splatter on it after Trevor the culprit chained down like a mad-dog in the interrogation cell. "Proof this wise-ass isn't Trevor afterall, he's Eckhart." he figured it out quick. Rehanded the lab assistant her material, thus leaving the hall and into the solid cell block "the prisoner" aka Mason Eckart is rendered in. This kind of tack doesn't shock, Jason, Mason Eckhart was once the head of security at Genomex. As a result of a horrific accident, Incident X, he blamed Adam, Mason's immune system was destroyed. In order to stave off infection, Mason was forced to wear a white wig, synthetic protective skin, and gloves. Similar to the effect of Latex facial masks, full head masks for a disguise purpose. Underground labs, for underworld government divisions even Genomex under the control of Mason got involved in. Disguise conceals or changes a person's physical appearance, including a wig, glasses, makeup, costume, for ie. Camouflage is a typical use for, but not limited to, criminals and by secret agents ate-up on avoiding identification whilst in the act. A person working for an agency trying to get information might go 'undercover' to get information without being recognised by the public; a well-known person may go 'incognito' in order to avoid confrontation. There is a loud detouring scratch echoing with a penetrating taunting force, on the opposite unleashed an exposure of Mason locked to the bolts lodged in to the cement floor. Whilst Jason steered the obedient chair forward, there face-to-face, right across from the iron table staged in the middle. As he meandered [slow] walk around the abrupt left side, the preditorial manly gut-instincts, had not problem submerging without reluctance in eliminating this ugly son of a bitch. An groined unpredictable spoken, smirk broadened JBs manly folds that left room embedded in this so-called Trevor's brain, believing no one is on to him. Forbidden exhaled of hesitation, an instant hard grip throddle of fake Trevor's throats' rear. BANG he is thrusted against the solid harder table simultaneously, JB ripped off the latex mask just to reveal who he thought it is, Mason Eckhart. " Huh--at least with the mask on you didn't look as half-ass bad." smudge gruesome chuckle vomits out of Eckhart's flapping mouth. Plastic facial is thrown at the man, JB pushed beat him backwards in the chair at a sit-still. Whilst JB retrieved a cell phone, out of the inner sleeve of his hefty leather jacket, he swiftly flipped it ope. Calling Shalimar on the cell phone, he cleverly left behind inside the shirt of his she worn, " Got a surprise for you, you don't want to miss out on. Head out on North St, it'll lead you towards Ozark County's center. There is a is a building, its called WSB, go inside it the third floor. Interrogation room 302." Shalimar wasn't wrong, Jason had ways of tracking someone down, that happened to be one he preserved for her , for second this moment occurs. Oh he had every sense of ending Mason's existence, but it wasn't Bourne who Eckhart tortured, Shalimar had every damn right to face this guy for the final time. This isn't about being flat out loyal, going on his word to his sister in-law Shalimar for lodging a second-hand cell in order for him to communicate with her. He also seen this as a partnership assignment for, haunting out a villain who done Shalimar wrong, she didn't deserve the bullshit Mason is responsible for. Power isn't control at all - power is strength, and giving that strength to others. A leader isn't someone who forces others to make him stronger; a leader is someone willing to give his strength to others that they may have the strength to - to stand on their own. Adventure of life is to learn, purpose of life is to grow. Nature of life is to change, challenge of life is to overcome. Essence of life is to care. Opportunity of like is to serve,secret of life is to dare, Shalimar'll have that chance to grow down a road in having a semi normal life. [Both Flashback & Present] Jason, Shalimar, Lewis Bourne Enterprises: Basic Black WSB. Inside one of the dominate or engrossed, official proceedural interrogation cell-block (-aka room) raddled Mason is caught strapped against an iron bench. Baron chained in solid brass hand-cuffs, that choked the hot blood flow in both wrists the brass cuffs attached. Although JB hadn't supported the Holocaust rough periods, he wasn't even born then, but as most have known about the harsh ordeal that went down in the cause of it. Jason did appointed out in an unreserved opinion of the brutal cover-operations, that build those foreign and severe concreted isolations (cells), did in fact provide us in the current centuries are for useful for out beneficial advantages. Provided a contribution in preventing jail-break during incarcerations, holding the bloodiest, ruthless, sleeziest corrupted government scums, and in this present case--a good ole flat out pain in the ass Genomex villian the notorious Mason Eckhart. Assault facial scar, detoured half-ass of the right side of Eckhart's grungie jawbone, a hintful assumption Jason had used physical enforcement, in order for causing Mason to spill his guts with truth, enough of the beating around the bush with prior dodged interogating questions. Eckhart taunted on about his latest test-subject, harboring a device implanted in the pedestal of her brain. Her? Thus Jason learned vast, Eckhart self-boasting his control claimed project he was indicating is Shalimar Dominic. A serious 10 ton bronze and black hard brick rear -far wall, prompted an evaluation window but is shaded on the opposite side so the outside isn't able to see through. Interrogation requires more than sufficient confidence and creativity ,takes psychological tactics of social influence, that permits Jason in seeing right through the prisoner's false oblivious billboarding hues. Forcing someone on confessing a crime is not a simple task, and the fact that officials nd up with confessions from the innocent testifies to their expertise in psychological manipulation. None - no two interrogations are identical, but exploit certain weaknesses in human nature, weaknessess typically rely on the stress that results when people experience contrasting extremes. Listening to Eckharts nonstop barking, is enough to annoy the crap out of a swamp monk! Damn! It took a lot of patience and endurance in holding the rage of choking the life out of the idiot if he didn't shut-up, blabbering off on-and-on about how it was threatening, basically torturing someone for his own greed-benefit. Managed to increase a vexed boiling-point demeanor in Jason, the fact this is someone he considers family- --let's put it this way, the idea is raw in being blunt on what would happen on realistic terms, if Mason was a simple villain. You'd ask how is he not a simple villain, well because if he dies, Shalimar dies--otherwise nothing left of Mason would be available to find. " He isn't going to die...yet. That's what I'm waiting on, is for you before we are able to make that call." Jason corresponds an unpreserved assured - yet serious demeanor. Whilst acknowledging Shalimar has zero control over her physical and cranium, Eckhart is controlling her with the computer chip implanted in her brain. Leaving factual facts of the one who contains the secrets to her conglomeration mix micro genes, is this scumbag sitting on the ledge of his retained seat looking like a fraggle-rock wanna be with swollen raccoon welts around his hues. "Shalimar--HEY!" loud masculine belch, escaped in a jacked-concered echo that could threaten to blow out windows, whilst Jason bellowed through his cell phone at the alert of hearing everything bursting out of Shalimar's mouth before it went blank. Without hesitation WHACK! Eckhart's back is thrusted against the stone brick behind, Jason with a vicious rage movement he jacked him brutually up as a severe warning reflected in the deep cores of his light ocean blue hues shifting on demand. Then released him allowing him to fall to the floor like a rag doll, again it took a whole hell of a lot out of JB in ending it, but for Shalimar's life he isn't going to risk her life. He'll wait, on stand-by, and in the meantime this one isn't going no one.

I'll put something here soon-ish maybe

World Wrestling Entertainment * WWE Women's Championship (6 times) * WWE Divas Championship (1 time) Ohio Valley Wrestling * OVW Women's Championship (1 time) Total NonStop Action Wrestling * TNA Women's Knockout Championship (2 times)

6)'no one from this time will ever see that girl again...'The doctor, amy and rory round off a sight seeing tour around london with a trip to the theatre. That's when things start to go wrong. The doctor wonders why so many younf girls are going missing from the area.When he sees Sammy Star's amazing magic act, he thinks he knows the answer. Sammy's glamerous assistant disappears at the climax of the act, but this is no stage trick. whatever you do - Don't Blink!-----------------------The doctor along with his companions amelia and rory williams had been taking a sight seeing tour around london on an open top bus when the doctor's persistant talking finally got on the tour guides nerves and they were throun off onto the side of the street. This had happened to them wherever they went and it was causing some amusing entertainment to the ponds whenever they were thrown out of somewhere. presently they were now sitting in a local cafe so that they could have some tea and lunch as they were all hungry when rory williams pointed out the missing posters that they had seen in different areas around the city of young men and women especially women disappearing due to a magic act at the local theatre. "well then looks like we'll just have to take in a magic act and get to the bottom of this" he said to amelia and rory williams who had been hoping not to have to deal with monsters on their holiday trip around london. "not before we have our lunch doctor" came amelia's response to this as she wanted to have a full stomache if she was going to be running around after some unknown monster. "of course pond eat up then its off to the theatre" he said as he sat there across from his best friend's a nice hot cuppa tea sitting in front of him. 7)Time was relative, it didn't really have any meaning when you were inside the vortex it was as if time itself ceased to exsist. the doctoe reached up and pushed his floppy fringe out of his face and eyes glancing at the black framed glasses that were now propped up on top on the console. he mused how they had suited his previous incarnation a lot more that they did his current one of which he had finally managed to take the time to get a good look at. the doctor found himself to be rather skinny almost awkward and yet at the same time found he rather liked the new him. so lost within his own musings he hadn't realized that the tardis had come to a full stop materializing who knows where until he heard sounds right outside of the tardis doors so loud that startled him right out of his chair both his feet and his entire slight body frame hit the tardis floor with surprise."WHAT!"he yelped and gained his footing rather swiftly and moved towards the console to find out exactly where he was increasing the tardises defences while reaching for a switch he turned on the scanner and looked at it.