Ratattack

[CANCELLED]

@Ratattack but the Recollections universe is built on moral ambiguity. Even the worst people have reasons for what they do.

@Ghost Note

I'm just spit ballin'

[CANCELLED]

Fort Laudeeeeeeeeeeeedale it is then.

We're just some evil little witchys :).

Maybe we uncover some super crazy plot on the web that threatens our very existence? (as in us magic peeps).

And ya I've done discord RP before.

[CANCELLED]

1: Yes

2: also yes

3: Idaho

4: cause some chaos

5: PC

6: start

closed or whatever don't look at this

Elron A. Prescott

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Of course she knew nothing, Odessa wasen't the smartest one in the room. Then Zoey started freaking out she just coulden't handle the truth! Or the supposed truth it really depended on your opinion in the matter, she wasen't impressed and no one else was with Elron's spiel and it looked like this bubble was about to burst with their departure. That would be a terrible mistake, no one knew what lurked out in the empty streets of Paradise nor the situation that they were in. Atleast Odessa confirmed his theory, they were here for something special. If something wanted them dead they could of crossed them off easily as they could of teleported them to this mysterious city. Elron removed the badge from his belt again and slid it across the counter to Odessa. The Eye of Providence was closed (which was never a good sign), but he didn't notice because of the fuss that was unraveling before his very eyes.

"Careful now."

Elron said to Zoey as his tone finally got serious and now to his newest detractor the pretty little blonde who was supposedly threatened by his entrance into the bar or perhaps his antics. It challenged his authority, so her immediate detraction and childization of the situation was her only way to regain power over those she exerted it over which appeared to be Zoey.

“She says we’re all extra-normal, and Special Agent Scientologist over there works for the Ghostbusters. Y’all wanna go ahead and magic us a quick way out of the city?”

"You have no clue what's out there, running around aimlessly alone or with your pal here is only going to accomplish your utter and ugly demise. You could open this bar door right now and walk out in a completely different town, or as you hopelessly tread through this bleak existence we're now living in you run into something that feeds on people like us. You may feel invincible but when a Eldtrich Shifter is tearing you apart you won't be, and none of us want to be the ones to find your sad discarded corpse in this hell hole. Or be the ones to fight you if you become one of these creatures you so desperately want to escape from.

It was a brutal fucking reality, maybe some didn't see it but going on alone or in a pair was inadvisable. It's not something Elron could let slide, especially in a situation like this. Zoey wasen't thinking and neither was this beautiful feisty little blonde bitch, it didn't matter who they were or where they were from. Surviving this is what mattered, at any cost. He briefly removed his memo book to make a entry before putting it away.

♫~Yeah, you know you got to help me out
Yeah, oh don't you put me on the back burner
You know you got to help me out
Yeah, you're gonna bring yourself down~♫

"Maybe it's too much to ask but there has to be some trust here, if anyone is going walk back to where they belong. It's short notice and I'm sure not everyone is so eager to come together and sing kumbaya especially with me, but you have no choice. If you walk out there alone, you're guaranteed to kick the bucket. Our only chance at getting out and finding out why we're here is to work together, I agree sitting around and talking isn't going to fix out problems. If we're leaving this bar we're doing it all together.

The blonde made Elron's blood run hot around the back of his neck, he wasen't sure if it was in the good or bad way (if there was any difference). He removed another cigarette putting it in his mouth as he struck a match off the counter lighting it. He exhaled smoke upwards with some violent aggression. Anyway... I'll take your money when we get out Mao." he said not looking at her to avoid a brainover load. "What even is Extra-normal anyway, isn't that just being afflicted?"

They weren't dead, this was worse than being dead.

closed or whatever don't look at this

Elron A. Prescott

╚══════════════╝

♫~And when there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more son
These changes ain't changing me
The cold-hearted boy I used to be ~♫

The stranger begin to move with the beat, the groove over took his movement as it just started out with tapping to slapping of the jukebox. His feet started to move as the flow moved him, as he started to jive and move rhmatically towards the bar where Zoey & Oddessa were stationed. The song humming under his breath as the song continued it's course, closing the distance between the two as god knows what horrors were manifesting itself inside Elron's skull.

"It's such a sad song."

Elron approached the now nervous Zoey, he reached into his jacket pocket and removed his cigarette pack . Yes it was god damn fancy, he pulled out a lone cigarette and tossed it to the vagabond. Was it out of good faith? He tempted himself, was he going to smoke another? No, not infront of company, not yet atleast. Odessa made her remark, she wasen't impressed by him at all. Maybe his show and flair was just too much for some people, for the moment he ignored every word she said because a eureka moment was just coming hot off the presses. It wasen't a eureka moment at all, false alarm everybody. It was something much more deep than that.

"He's asking god for help." He said to the crowd as "All The Things I've Done" played smoothly in the background as the mint jukebox gushed out the tune. "No one realizes the meaning behind this song, or the symbolism. There was a reason I picked it, not only because it cranks but - the vocalist is asking for help. He's asking god for help because he's fucked up, he's so far gone. He's done something terrible, or is it his inability to do what he wants in life? He needs god to help him achieve that." Elron said contiuning his analysis of the song.

"I'm sure alot of you are feeling like you need god right now, I do too and I can relate to the song. I don't know how I got here, or what here really is? The Big Empty? Hell? One thing I know for sure is, god isn't coming to save us. He's dead." His hand quickly reached for something on his right hip, the hems of his suit flew open to reveal a holster but besides that there were gadgets, pockets and gizmos on his belt he reached for something else.

Unhooking something he turned to Odessa who remained unimpressed, it was a badge. It was a depiction of the Eye of Providence.

"Agent Prescott, Bureau of Occult & Paranormal Activity. I also go by Elron, depending on your preferences of professionalism. I apologize if I came off as rude earlier, I just feeling so excited. I don't know why." He put his badge back away on his belt and ran a hand through his pretty-boy hair. "You seem to be the smartest one here miss, and the calmest." He said addressing Oddessa.

"I never claimed to have all the awnsers to this place, but maybe you do?" He said inquistively, a smirk forming over his face.

The cold-hearted boy I used to be.

closed or whatever don't look at this

╚══════════════╝

"Wow."

A stranger walked in cigarette in hand, it looked like he shared something with Zoey. He pulled a match out from his pocket, his other hand serviced himself as he put a Deluxe Moresovr-Gand cigarette in his mouth. He quickly struck the match off the wall as it lit up with a hiss, wanting to die as it quickly as possible before it made contact with the cigarette. Burning tobacco and hope from it's tip as the stranger brought the cancer stick to his mouth. He inhaled as he started to step inside the bar, snow falling off him and melting from the unrelenting warmth that the bar provided.

He walked in, heading towards one thing that stuck on his mind. While walking by the booths he passed the kid with the guitar, Stacey Gray? No that was definetly not his name, he aggressively exhaled smoke towards him as the cigarette continued to burn rudely in the diner. "Something tells me that's not your name." He made his way to the J U K E B O X. Where he contemplated what song he would grace the prescence of company that presented itself before him in this makeshift hostel of booze and broken dreams. He slid a coin into the hungry maw of the mechanical monstrosity before him, a song caught his eye but he had to make a quick accessment.

---

A quick assessment - a mental review of everyone here
By: ???

Guitar-boy: Stacey wasen't his name, no one would name their kid that unless it was some kind of ironic punishment to inflict onto society. The bullying the social stigma. Look at the physical tell tale signs, he's sweating, nervous, quiet. He carries around a guitar maybe he's one of those kids who is only confident when they sing in the shower. Wait. . .

Is Stacey actually a chick!? Why does he look and sound like a man. Considering the situation nothing could be taken off the table.

Sure it's strange to be named as a chick, but what if this nervous bucket of boy is actually a woman in some kind of form?

Observe, analyze, conclude.

"Sorry Stacey, I take that back. Your elevated heartbeat and anxiety had me judge you incorrectly." He almost sounded sincere but he was more annoyed at his snap-judgement betraying him.

Pretty-girl: Probably the nicest looking one among them was the blonde, drop-dead gorgeous. Like the type of 'valley girls' you see back in old-mags. She looked strong and independent, like a leader-chick. Though seldom there are few in today's society.

Cool-Smoker-Chick: Blue hair, smoking... Holy shit she has a huge rack! The man stopped his train of thought for a moment as his eyes gazed over the punk's physique. His cigarette threatening to fall from his lips as he closed his jaw. She seemed like she was a poser, like the ones that do it for attention. Bets were on that she was a cold bitch or snappy, fun at a party but annoying when she's sober. He should of just poured her a drink, if only he knew she was here when he walked in. Fuck

Smoker-chick-clone: She looked just like that smoker chick, same blue hair and everything. It's like they were twins? She seemed quiet, not like the type of I'm a loner quiet. He's seen that type but it's just a theory, just like Stacey. Something is bugging him about her though.

Tribal-Lady: Dressed poorly for the weather, lots of tattoos. Defintely not from around here, very strange. Most people in Africa are fighting in the war right now.

Finally...

Beret-Girl: Just looking at her for a moment makes his head spin, it's just not right. He tries to think about who, what, anything about her. He wants to form an opinion or analysis about her but can't. She's unfucking readable.

---

It was done in only a few moments, mentally he felt exhausted. Just speaking addressing Stacey during that was kind of a bummer, but he had made his assumptions and analyzed what he could. Still he felt like he was behind on everything, he had missed so much. His only hunch about Stacey seemed the most logical thing he could cling onto, but he was over thinking. Everyone was watching him, probably thinking who the fuck is this guy. Why the fuck did he just question Stacey's name? He was totally going over board, he wasen't sure if he was ever going to stop himself.

Hopefully no one could read his thoughts, the things that go on their would beat this place out of the water. He could feel some heat on him, resentment? It didn't matter, he didn't break his pokerface nor did he drop his guard. He turned back to the jukebox for a second, he knew what song to pick. He was going to play a old song, something that his grand father listended to back in the day. If he had known his grand father, the song still stuck to him. He liked it, the vocals, the beat it would make his feet move. Now wasen't the time to dance, but the song would fix everything.

Click.

The song began to play, he took another drag from the cigarette it screamed out in pain to his ears as he held in the smoke for just one moment before exhaling it violently through his nose. He looked up to ice-queen with a little extra on her chest, locking eyes with her for a moment. "I'm taking bets." he said taking another drag from the cigarette as he leaned up against the jukebox hoping no one was too irritated with him yet.

"We're dead, we're here for a reason, or we're suffering for something we did." he said dragging in another mouthful of smoke as the music played. He made sure his right side pressed up against the jukebox, his suit jacket was covering past down his waist a few inches but he seemed secluded like there was a bigger picture he was hiding. "I think we're here for a very special reason, five bucks says that." he said smirking, he killed the cigarette - good riddens. He flicked the butt over the bar's counter.
"Am I wrong in saying that, this is something special?" He chuckled, his voice was smooth almost like a singers but he wasen't a singer.

He definetly, was not a singer.

closed or whatever don't look at this

The Stranger Who Can't Let Go.

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[The Stranger who can't let go.]

AT A QUICK GLANCE

- 6'2 Ft.
- 190lbs
- Mixed race.
- Cheap but awesome suit?
- Curly brown hair
- A holster, with a gun !?
- Young, something in his twentys
- Government or loser vibes.

APPEARANCE

Dress for success.

The stranger is dressed for federal success and maybe to impress (the ladies?) He wears a cheap black suit and it shows, you woulden't chase bad guys in your class act would you? He has a scar along his right eye, vertically. His shoes aren't fancy dress shoes but Rockefeller knock offs from L.A., they get the job done though. He's carrying something on his belt, something menancing, something NOT cool. Something weird, his cheapo suit even looks weird.

ANYTHING... OFF?

He must be someone important, no one dresses in suits these days!

OTHER

Fear not the brave, but the naive.

Dead Presidents

"Enough."

Kevin said as he slammed his cane to the ground making a booming sound as if the man had set off C4 himself. He looked around to his cohort that was around the room, the ones that were there anyway. After clearing his voice and regaining his composure he went over to the holo pad and turned it off to cut off Fake ID's transmission. "We're not going in and killing everyone if security resists they'll be corpsed. There isn't much reason to suspect there won't be more than just regular security. Also, I don't want to put on a fucking public enemy episode because someone was too trigger happy."

He gestured to the bag, referring to Kurt at the moment. "It's our gear for the heist, the plan for the heist goes unchanged except I forgot about Jackie - she'll go with the rear team. Move-in hit hard and play to win, should be an easy score. Keep your petty rivalries in check, I don't care about the drug shit to be honest doc - but if you're fucked on this heist and get pinched. Tough luck." He said before lighting up a Devil's Advocate cigarette, the stage was set for the heist. "If you need me, you know where to find me, people." Exhaling a plume of black smoke he walked away to his office in the hangout.

Dead Presidents

y'all LAZY

Dead Presidents

Kevin leaned over the holographic beer-pong table holding onto an old relic of a cane as he looked over at Kurt as he chastised Fake ID. "He's the shot caller, we take what we can get. Obviously, the pull is big otherwise why would he of gave it to us?" He said shaking his head as he looked over to Fake ID and his hologram humming. "Party in the back." He said pointing to the back entrance that lead down to the loading docks where other armed guard companies loaded in gold and materials off to the credit union to where they would do fuck knows what.
He looked over to his team, at least the team members that were present for the meeting.

"Buzzkill you'll drive the crew in, which will be Diaz, Razzi and Me. Data will get us past the security at the loading docks and we'll surprise them, as we secure the loading docks and then the vault. Deckard and Klaus will take the front lobby and take everyone inside hostage including Data, then we'll pry the Manager's key from his corpse or living body and move to the vault. Once Deckard runs the key to the crew they'll open the vault and we'll empty it onto our get-away. Buzzkill try to get us an armored van they use in the security industry of whatever the fuck you can find. We'll all meet up and load up there and fuck off, fence it to Fake ID then split once and for all."

He looked around to gauge the responses from the group, this job was long overdue they all needed to get out of this. Unless they wished to be simple fucking corpses in the ever-growing soil of New Wealth. He let out a old man sigh as his mind went to a penthouse in the High Orbital Society or living out on a ranch somewhere in the City State of Toronto. "Razzi, you'll need to find us some good music. The guns I guess will be up to Fake ID. This is going to be a fucking loud job. Unless any wise ass has a better idea of doing this?" He says once again gauging and questioning the crew.