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is anyone of the mindset that if we're going to do this fight, it should be a titanpad collab?
It's being addressed in the flashbacks... Safe to say it involves the sister....
well, I'm hoping that Tom will just be able to dish out a good old fashioned ass whooping without having to drop into hulk mode.
May 4th, 2014.
Tom lay on the table, trapped in another feverish nightmare. Meanwhile Melanie fussed over him; drawing blood samples and infusing him with IV fluids. She was a little nervous herself. As his sister, she was fraught with worry: Her brother had just performed a feat of preternatural strength and speed, and then collapsed on the ground after saving the lives of 4 people. As a scientist she was completely engrossed in fascination. Her brother had just performed a feat of preternatural strength and speed. She struggled to balance the two as she brought him back to her lab. DARPA had bought out several buildings and modified them into research and development centers out in the Meatpacking district. Few people ever came here anymore that weren't looking for some sort of illicit activity, so it was the perfect front.
His blood work came back negative for any traces of foreign substance. Unsurprising, she wasn't expecting him to be doping. So she took a sample and ran it through a DNA sequencing unit. She ran it for comparative analysis against a sample she previously had on file. Thanks to her research she had access to cutting edge tech, and the process would identify anomalies and changes in the DNA strands within a matter of hours. In the meanwhile, She monitored his vitals, fretting over her big brother.
Present Day:
Tom smiled at the reactions of the others. For people with the gifts they’d been given, they understood nothing about them. Not that he understood much more, but at least he knew they were different. These street punks should be no match for one skilled fighter. He sidestepped the girl who put herself in front of him, touching the small of her back and leaning in to whisper in her ear.
“Stay behind me. This is my job” He smiled at the platitudes that the girls offered, and his cop instinct told him that even now it was too late to walk away. As the other men stepped out and joined them in the alleyway, Tom produced a pair of finger-less gloves from his pocket, and removed his suit jacket, tossing it on the top of a dumpster. Now exposed was an under the shoulder holster carrying a Smith and Wesson .40 pistol. It wasn't loaded, but no one needed to know that. “Now, the lady here is wrong about a couple of things. See, I gave a direct command based on probable cause to your young friend there. And he ran. He is now chargeable for resisting arrest and evasion of a federal agent. That’s a pretty serious crime. As for you, you’re obstructing the course of an investigation.” He slid the gloves onto his left and right hands slowly, as he talked in calm, even tones. “Now, let’s make this really easy on everyone. Turn the card back over to the young lady and everyone gets to walk away no harm, no foul.”
he stepped into the middle of the alley way, a cocky grin on his face. He loved when assholes didn't listen.
Tom lay on the table, trapped in another feverish nightmare. Meanwhile Melanie fussed over him; drawing blood samples and infusing him with IV fluids. She was a little nervous herself. As his sister, she was fraught with worry: Her brother had just performed a feat of preternatural strength and speed, and then collapsed on the ground after saving the lives of 4 people. As a scientist she was completely engrossed in fascination. Her brother had just performed a feat of preternatural strength and speed. She struggled to balance the two as she brought him back to her lab. DARPA had bought out several buildings and modified them into research and development centers out in the Meatpacking district. Few people ever came here anymore that weren't looking for some sort of illicit activity, so it was the perfect front.
His blood work came back negative for any traces of foreign substance. Unsurprising, she wasn't expecting him to be doping. So she took a sample and ran it through a DNA sequencing unit. She ran it for comparative analysis against a sample she previously had on file. Thanks to her research she had access to cutting edge tech, and the process would identify anomalies and changes in the DNA strands within a matter of hours. In the meanwhile, She monitored his vitals, fretting over her big brother.
Present Day:
Tom smiled at the reactions of the others. For people with the gifts they’d been given, they understood nothing about them. Not that he understood much more, but at least he knew they were different. These street punks should be no match for one skilled fighter. He sidestepped the girl who put herself in front of him, touching the small of her back and leaning in to whisper in her ear.
“Stay behind me. This is my job” He smiled at the platitudes that the girls offered, and his cop instinct told him that even now it was too late to walk away. As the other men stepped out and joined them in the alleyway, Tom produced a pair of finger-less gloves from his pocket, and removed his suit jacket, tossing it on the top of a dumpster. Now exposed was an under the shoulder holster carrying a Smith and Wesson .40 pistol. It wasn't loaded, but no one needed to know that. “Now, the lady here is wrong about a couple of things. See, I gave a direct command based on probable cause to your young friend there. And he ran. He is now chargeable for resisting arrest and evasion of a federal agent. That’s a pretty serious crime. As for you, you’re obstructing the course of an investigation.” He slid the gloves onto his left and right hands slowly, as he talked in calm, even tones. “Now, let’s make this really easy on everyone. Turn the card back over to the young lady and everyone gets to walk away no harm, no foul.”
he stepped into the middle of the alley way, a cocky grin on his face. He loved when assholes didn't listen.
Saturday, May 3rd, 2014.
So far it had been a good day. Tom had 10 new suits and his tailor had been paid handsomely. He’d also received a reference for a tailor out in KC. As Tom walked his way back towards his parking garage, he watched as a city bus became involved in a crash not 20 feet away, and, putting the suits down on a bench, jogged over to help. He made sure that the driver in the other vehicle was okay, pulled out his cell phone and put in the call to NYPD dispatch. After making the call, he got onto the bus and began assisting passengers off the bus. As soon as everyone was accounted for, he left and faded back into the crowd. He’d had his share of the limelight. It was, after all, the reason he now found himself moving to the middle of nowhere on a crap job. As he returned to the bench, the suits were gone.
“No good deed goes unpunished,” he said aloud. He made his way back to his tailor, who graciously offered him replacements at cost. Tom refused, saying he’d pay him full price, and left to return home. A gnawing headache pounded away in his skull. He sank into a fevered dream, watching his mother die again and again. Each time he was just too slow, or just too far away to save her in time.
Sunday May 4th, 2014.
“Brother?” Melanie shook his shoulder, rousing Tom from his sleep. “We’re supposed to grab lunch today.” Tom looked like hell. The dreams left him shaken. Though the headache was gone, he still felt off. He rose, nodded to his sister, and looked at the clock. 2 PM. Damn.
“Yeah, let me shower real quick, and we’ll get going,” He said, heading for his bathroom. He showered quickly, dressing in the bathroom. “Sorry, sis, rough night.” He called out, before entering his bedroom, grabbing his wallet, and escorting her out of the apartment.
They took the subway to Chinatown and had a delicious, uneventful lunch. He was really going to miss his sister. The job was his only way to redeem himself, though. He took his defeat very seriously, and the corruption of NYC government had jaded him to any hope of justice. They idly bantered back and forth, Melanie kept passing worried glances over him, checking his eyes, breathing rate, and cognitive functions. He did seem to be okay compared to what she had seen this morning. Sometimes the researcher and doctor in her overrode her normal sisterly instincts.
Walking back towards Tom’s apartment after a peaceful subway ride, things got interesting. A screeching, tearing sound of metal on metal shot out from overhead as a construction crane began to collapse. Tom looked up from the newspaper vendor he was sliding quarters into as the hulk of metal bore down to the ground. Mel, No! His mind screamed at him to do something as the crane continued to come down. She was semi oblivious to what was going on, purchasing a soda from a street vendor with an ear bud in. She looked up and both she and the street vendor were paralyzed with fear as the deadly debris reached 750 feet from the ground.
Time slowed at that moment. Tom saw the crane, the vendor, his sister, the crane and knew what he had to do. He moved at a speed he had never moved before, closing the distance of a city block in seconds and throwing his sister and the vendor to safety. They landed several feet away, and he smiled before leaping to safety himself. The crane smashed into the ground, demolishing the vendor’s cart and smashing in the roof of a nearby car. He heard a scream coming from inside, before he moved to the car. He saw a small child in the rear seat crying uncontrollably and an unconscious woman in the driver’s seat. He ripped the door off of the car and pulled the woman to safety as the metal groaned under stress. He then reached in, offering his hand to the little girl. “Quickly! Take my hand!” He yelled, pulling her out as the crane’s weight crunched the car roof into itself.
He walked back over to Melanie’s side, and pulled her to her feet. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” She answered, hugging her brother as her adrenaline wore off. Tears streamed down her face. She felt his muscles begin to sag, and he started to cough, before falling to the ground, struggling for breath. “Tom!” She cried, putting and arm under him and helping him to get away. Something was wrong here and she was going to help him out. She had to get him back to her lab…
Present Day.
He watched the pickpocket, laughing at the poor kid. He sure had picked the wrong target. As the girl took off running after him, Tom tailed them and sank into the crowd, focused on the pickpocket.
As the girl lost him in the crowd, Tom continued the pursuit, stepping up next to her and pulling his badge from his pocket.
“Freeze!” He yelled “Federal Agent!” The kid turned for a half second, as the crowd around them dispersed. Now he was visible plain as day to everyone as he took off at a dead run down the street. “They always run!” He quipped, looking at the girl next to him. “You coming?” he asked, offering a friendly smile, a wink, and a hand on her shoulder to reassure her. He took off again running after the pick pocket. He kept his sidearm holstered, knowing this kid wasn't worth a bullet.
The kid turned down a few side alleys, and Tom was barely able to keep up. However he came to a stop in a dead end, with a tall chain link fence lined with barbed wire blocking his path. “Nowhere left to run kid, turn the wallet back over and you can go home! No harm, no foul!” he said, slightly out of breath.
Your move He thought to himself, not sure why the kid was so adamant about escaping.
So far it had been a good day. Tom had 10 new suits and his tailor had been paid handsomely. He’d also received a reference for a tailor out in KC. As Tom walked his way back towards his parking garage, he watched as a city bus became involved in a crash not 20 feet away, and, putting the suits down on a bench, jogged over to help. He made sure that the driver in the other vehicle was okay, pulled out his cell phone and put in the call to NYPD dispatch. After making the call, he got onto the bus and began assisting passengers off the bus. As soon as everyone was accounted for, he left and faded back into the crowd. He’d had his share of the limelight. It was, after all, the reason he now found himself moving to the middle of nowhere on a crap job. As he returned to the bench, the suits were gone.
“No good deed goes unpunished,” he said aloud. He made his way back to his tailor, who graciously offered him replacements at cost. Tom refused, saying he’d pay him full price, and left to return home. A gnawing headache pounded away in his skull. He sank into a fevered dream, watching his mother die again and again. Each time he was just too slow, or just too far away to save her in time.
Sunday May 4th, 2014.
“Brother?” Melanie shook his shoulder, rousing Tom from his sleep. “We’re supposed to grab lunch today.” Tom looked like hell. The dreams left him shaken. Though the headache was gone, he still felt off. He rose, nodded to his sister, and looked at the clock. 2 PM. Damn.
“Yeah, let me shower real quick, and we’ll get going,” He said, heading for his bathroom. He showered quickly, dressing in the bathroom. “Sorry, sis, rough night.” He called out, before entering his bedroom, grabbing his wallet, and escorting her out of the apartment.
They took the subway to Chinatown and had a delicious, uneventful lunch. He was really going to miss his sister. The job was his only way to redeem himself, though. He took his defeat very seriously, and the corruption of NYC government had jaded him to any hope of justice. They idly bantered back and forth, Melanie kept passing worried glances over him, checking his eyes, breathing rate, and cognitive functions. He did seem to be okay compared to what she had seen this morning. Sometimes the researcher and doctor in her overrode her normal sisterly instincts.
Walking back towards Tom’s apartment after a peaceful subway ride, things got interesting. A screeching, tearing sound of metal on metal shot out from overhead as a construction crane began to collapse. Tom looked up from the newspaper vendor he was sliding quarters into as the hulk of metal bore down to the ground. Mel, No! His mind screamed at him to do something as the crane continued to come down. She was semi oblivious to what was going on, purchasing a soda from a street vendor with an ear bud in. She looked up and both she and the street vendor were paralyzed with fear as the deadly debris reached 750 feet from the ground.
Time slowed at that moment. Tom saw the crane, the vendor, his sister, the crane and knew what he had to do. He moved at a speed he had never moved before, closing the distance of a city block in seconds and throwing his sister and the vendor to safety. They landed several feet away, and he smiled before leaping to safety himself. The crane smashed into the ground, demolishing the vendor’s cart and smashing in the roof of a nearby car. He heard a scream coming from inside, before he moved to the car. He saw a small child in the rear seat crying uncontrollably and an unconscious woman in the driver’s seat. He ripped the door off of the car and pulled the woman to safety as the metal groaned under stress. He then reached in, offering his hand to the little girl. “Quickly! Take my hand!” He yelled, pulling her out as the crane’s weight crunched the car roof into itself.
He walked back over to Melanie’s side, and pulled her to her feet. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” She answered, hugging her brother as her adrenaline wore off. Tears streamed down her face. She felt his muscles begin to sag, and he started to cough, before falling to the ground, struggling for breath. “Tom!” She cried, putting and arm under him and helping him to get away. Something was wrong here and she was going to help him out. She had to get him back to her lab…
Present Day.
He watched the pickpocket, laughing at the poor kid. He sure had picked the wrong target. As the girl took off running after him, Tom tailed them and sank into the crowd, focused on the pickpocket.
As the girl lost him in the crowd, Tom continued the pursuit, stepping up next to her and pulling his badge from his pocket.
“Freeze!” He yelled “Federal Agent!” The kid turned for a half second, as the crowd around them dispersed. Now he was visible plain as day to everyone as he took off at a dead run down the street. “They always run!” He quipped, looking at the girl next to him. “You coming?” he asked, offering a friendly smile, a wink, and a hand on her shoulder to reassure her. He took off again running after the pick pocket. He kept his sidearm holstered, knowing this kid wasn't worth a bullet.
The kid turned down a few side alleys, and Tom was barely able to keep up. However he came to a stop in a dead end, with a tall chain link fence lined with barbed wire blocking his path. “Nowhere left to run kid, turn the wallet back over and you can go home! No harm, no foul!” he said, slightly out of breath.
Your move He thought to himself, not sure why the kid was so adamant about escaping.
and the same to you!
General Bio
Name: Thomas MacLanahan (T, Tommy, Tom ,Sgt. MacLanahan, Sarge)
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Tom is a darkly tanned individual with dark hair and a seemingly permanent scruff on his face. His eyes never seem to focus on one location long, his investigative habits forcing them to constantly be searching for anything suspect about a scene. When he is able to focus on a person, his eyes are warm and inviting, and an infectious smirk can often be seen on his lips. He’s 6’1, weighing 195 pounds of mostly muscle. A horrendous scar is on his left hip and outer thigh is a remnant of his injury. A mortar shell exploded and embedded large pieces of shrapnel in his leg. He walks with a very small limp, favoring his right side. His voice is a calm baritone, and he can carry a tune halfway decently. He’s often heard humming or singing to himself in periods of calm. He is ambidextrous, having learned to use his right hand while his left side recovered from his injuries. He is occasionally reliant on painkillers when his nerves fire and the pain flares up.
Superpower name: Reactive hyperactive endocrine response (or as Tom affectionately refers to it, Hulk Mode)
Description: when exposed to certain Stimuli, Tom will enter a trance like state in which he is able to respond to stressors with an increased endocrine response, heightening senses, muscle control, speed, and other bodily functions for a short period of time.
Level one abilities: Tom will appear to enter a trance for a few moments after which he is able to perform feats slightly above the normal threshold of human ability. His running speed increases to that of an average cross country track star. He is able to deadlift as much as an intermediate level professional body builder, and punches carry more strength. not enough to incapacitate with one strike, but whoever he hits will feel it for days. Use leaves Tom somewhat exhausted, and cool down requires 6 hours before he can use it again freely.
Level three abilities: after a few moments Tom will enter the trance,increasing his situational awareness and focus .solidly landed strikes to an opponent's head can incapacitate his strength is now more powerful, able to deadlift as much as an expert level body.this trance can last up to ten minutes. Attacks against him deal less pain, though damage is still present. Cool-down Is reduced to 3 hours.
Level five abilities: now able to instantaneously enter the trance, Tom's running speed is capable of out sprinting olympic champions. Strength increases tremendously. He is now able to deadlift at the level of an elite professional bodybuilder. Physical strikes can and often do break bones, and Tom can mostly ignore the pain from anything except bullet wounds. this state can last for upwards of 20 minutes of continued stress Cool-down is again reduced to 1 hour 30 minutes.
Weakness/drawback: Entering the trance leaves Tom initially in a state of exhaustion, requiring a few minutes of immobility to regain balance and bearings. While technically capable of ignoring the cool-down period if absolutely necessary, doing so will result in a period of sensory damage, symptoms of which include hysterical deafness, blindness, or tactile neuropathy. Conversely, the cost may include hypersensitivity, including tactile olfactory or auditory symptoms, and hallucinations. The injuries in his leg also cause him extreme pain, which can effectively put him out of the fight. Continued use of the ability without cool-down will result in permanent damage.
History
History: Tom Spent the majority of the first decade of the millennium, (from 2004 onward, serving tours of duty as Staff Sergeant as a member of the Army CID. This took him to several locations throughout the world investigating criminal actions perpetrated by soldiers of all ranks and career paths. though giving him a keen insight into people and their motivations for acting in a criminal fashion, the career left Tom a little disillusioned with military life. After being discharged in 2010 for a severe leg injury, Tom spent a year in therapy regaining 90% of functionality, (still moving with a slight limp in his left leg.) Tom applied to the FBI, but failed to clear the academy due to his injuries.
Despondent, he then applied to the NYPD, clearing the somewhat easier physical test. His history as a CID officer lead to a fast track into the Manhattan major case squad and by 2013, Tom was on the road to being a direct subordinate to the commissioner. However, an investigation into the murder involving a member of the mayor’s staff resulted in an accusation against the mayor’s son. While the accusation was sound, the staff proceeded to cover up the crime and Tom was publicly smeared and disgraced, leading to resigning his position on the NYPD and preparing a cross country move to escape the press. A position with the US Marshalls office was in his future with a move to Kansas City Missouri in June 2014.
The day before the bus ride: The hangover was intense to say the least. Celebrating his new position and his recent bachelorhood, Tom spent the evening at the Jersey Shore, slamming shot after shot of top shelf vodka down his throat and singing with the live band karaoke offered at the bar he was at. He stumbled out of the motel bed, tripping over the pile of clothes he had left slumped at the foot of his bed. He turned his head to thankfully find that he was alone. The last thing he needed was an ill-advised one night stand before moving off to prepare to leave New York. A few cups of coffee and a pair of bagels later, Tom was back on the parkway heading back home. He returned to his apartment on the lower east side and started the laborious task of packing. After a few hours of boxing up clutter, he went to Central Park for lunch with his sister Melanie. They each gorged themselves on dirty water dogs and soda before taking a walk around.
“I’m going to miss you Tom, what am I gonna do without my big brother?” Melanie asked, playfully punching him in the arm.
“I guess you’re just going to continue your research fellowship and become the expert in… wait what was it you do again?” he asked, giving her a foolish grin and playfully shoving her off to the side. His sister’s work was classified, and even his contacts in the various agencies he’d spoken to hadn’t been able to tell him what it was. He only knew it had to do with developing next level technology for the Army that would integrate a soldier with his career. There were rumors it had to deal with Direct Energy Weaponry, other talk that it was developing powered armor, a whole bunch of other insanity that he brushed off as scuttlebutt. More likely she was working on some sort of new communications system or way to give a soldier a video game styled head’s up display.
She smiled back at him with the “I could tell you but I’d have to kill you” look. They finished their walk and he went back home, changing into a suit and going out to his father’s bar, MacLanahan’s Pub. He entered to see his father behind the bar, pouring him a Guinness Stout that he slid down the bar. Tom spent the rest of the evening drinking with old friends and toasting to the future. He drained one glass in memory of his mother, Claire, murdered while he was in Japan, investigating a rash of on and off base thievery by a group of enlisted soldiers. That investigation remained unsolved. Some random mugger in the middle of the night shot her three times , and she died alone in a back alley waiting for an ambulance.
He went home to his apartment. He had a month before he started his new position in Kansas City, and he thought that the next day would best be spent shopping for a new wardrobe of suits uptown. He mused to himself that he’d grab a bus the next morning, before showering and passing out.
(finally done! whooooo!)
Name: Thomas MacLanahan (T, Tommy, Tom ,Sgt. MacLanahan, Sarge)
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Tom is a darkly tanned individual with dark hair and a seemingly permanent scruff on his face. His eyes never seem to focus on one location long, his investigative habits forcing them to constantly be searching for anything suspect about a scene. When he is able to focus on a person, his eyes are warm and inviting, and an infectious smirk can often be seen on his lips. He’s 6’1, weighing 195 pounds of mostly muscle. A horrendous scar is on his left hip and outer thigh is a remnant of his injury. A mortar shell exploded and embedded large pieces of shrapnel in his leg. He walks with a very small limp, favoring his right side. His voice is a calm baritone, and he can carry a tune halfway decently. He’s often heard humming or singing to himself in periods of calm. He is ambidextrous, having learned to use his right hand while his left side recovered from his injuries. He is occasionally reliant on painkillers when his nerves fire and the pain flares up.
Superpower name: Reactive hyperactive endocrine response (or as Tom affectionately refers to it, Hulk Mode)
Description: when exposed to certain Stimuli, Tom will enter a trance like state in which he is able to respond to stressors with an increased endocrine response, heightening senses, muscle control, speed, and other bodily functions for a short period of time.
Level one abilities: Tom will appear to enter a trance for a few moments after which he is able to perform feats slightly above the normal threshold of human ability. His running speed increases to that of an average cross country track star. He is able to deadlift as much as an intermediate level professional body builder, and punches carry more strength. not enough to incapacitate with one strike, but whoever he hits will feel it for days. Use leaves Tom somewhat exhausted, and cool down requires 6 hours before he can use it again freely.
Level three abilities: after a few moments Tom will enter the trance,increasing his situational awareness and focus .solidly landed strikes to an opponent's head can incapacitate his strength is now more powerful, able to deadlift as much as an expert level body.this trance can last up to ten minutes. Attacks against him deal less pain, though damage is still present. Cool-down Is reduced to 3 hours.
Level five abilities: now able to instantaneously enter the trance, Tom's running speed is capable of out sprinting olympic champions. Strength increases tremendously. He is now able to deadlift at the level of an elite professional bodybuilder. Physical strikes can and often do break bones, and Tom can mostly ignore the pain from anything except bullet wounds. this state can last for upwards of 20 minutes of continued stress Cool-down is again reduced to 1 hour 30 minutes.
Weakness/drawback: Entering the trance leaves Tom initially in a state of exhaustion, requiring a few minutes of immobility to regain balance and bearings. While technically capable of ignoring the cool-down period if absolutely necessary, doing so will result in a period of sensory damage, symptoms of which include hysterical deafness, blindness, or tactile neuropathy. Conversely, the cost may include hypersensitivity, including tactile olfactory or auditory symptoms, and hallucinations. The injuries in his leg also cause him extreme pain, which can effectively put him out of the fight. Continued use of the ability without cool-down will result in permanent damage.
History
History: Tom Spent the majority of the first decade of the millennium, (from 2004 onward, serving tours of duty as Staff Sergeant as a member of the Army CID. This took him to several locations throughout the world investigating criminal actions perpetrated by soldiers of all ranks and career paths. though giving him a keen insight into people and their motivations for acting in a criminal fashion, the career left Tom a little disillusioned with military life. After being discharged in 2010 for a severe leg injury, Tom spent a year in therapy regaining 90% of functionality, (still moving with a slight limp in his left leg.) Tom applied to the FBI, but failed to clear the academy due to his injuries.
Despondent, he then applied to the NYPD, clearing the somewhat easier physical test. His history as a CID officer lead to a fast track into the Manhattan major case squad and by 2013, Tom was on the road to being a direct subordinate to the commissioner. However, an investigation into the murder involving a member of the mayor’s staff resulted in an accusation against the mayor’s son. While the accusation was sound, the staff proceeded to cover up the crime and Tom was publicly smeared and disgraced, leading to resigning his position on the NYPD and preparing a cross country move to escape the press. A position with the US Marshalls office was in his future with a move to Kansas City Missouri in June 2014.
The day before the bus ride: The hangover was intense to say the least. Celebrating his new position and his recent bachelorhood, Tom spent the evening at the Jersey Shore, slamming shot after shot of top shelf vodka down his throat and singing with the live band karaoke offered at the bar he was at. He stumbled out of the motel bed, tripping over the pile of clothes he had left slumped at the foot of his bed. He turned his head to thankfully find that he was alone. The last thing he needed was an ill-advised one night stand before moving off to prepare to leave New York. A few cups of coffee and a pair of bagels later, Tom was back on the parkway heading back home. He returned to his apartment on the lower east side and started the laborious task of packing. After a few hours of boxing up clutter, he went to Central Park for lunch with his sister Melanie. They each gorged themselves on dirty water dogs and soda before taking a walk around.
“I’m going to miss you Tom, what am I gonna do without my big brother?” Melanie asked, playfully punching him in the arm.
“I guess you’re just going to continue your research fellowship and become the expert in… wait what was it you do again?” he asked, giving her a foolish grin and playfully shoving her off to the side. His sister’s work was classified, and even his contacts in the various agencies he’d spoken to hadn’t been able to tell him what it was. He only knew it had to do with developing next level technology for the Army that would integrate a soldier with his career. There were rumors it had to deal with Direct Energy Weaponry, other talk that it was developing powered armor, a whole bunch of other insanity that he brushed off as scuttlebutt. More likely she was working on some sort of new communications system or way to give a soldier a video game styled head’s up display.
She smiled back at him with the “I could tell you but I’d have to kill you” look. They finished their walk and he went back home, changing into a suit and going out to his father’s bar, MacLanahan’s Pub. He entered to see his father behind the bar, pouring him a Guinness Stout that he slid down the bar. Tom spent the rest of the evening drinking with old friends and toasting to the future. He drained one glass in memory of his mother, Claire, murdered while he was in Japan, investigating a rash of on and off base thievery by a group of enlisted soldiers. That investigation remained unsolved. Some random mugger in the middle of the night shot her three times , and she died alone in a back alley waiting for an ambulance.
He went home to his apartment. He had a month before he started his new position in Kansas City, and he thought that the next day would best be spent shopping for a new wardrobe of suits uptown. He mused to himself that he’d grab a bus the next morning, before showering and passing out.
(finally done! whooooo!)
am I the only one who's in the collab? I was totally looking forward to throwing a hadouken...
Deamonbane said
You should see what I survive on, bro...
I also support two disabled people on my salary one of whom gets 700 a month, and the other nothing.
I'm not saying I'm dying of poverty, but I'm certainly not even lover middle class, and the idea of 6 dollars a month to offset 200 dollars a month for health insurance is more insulting than helpful.
back on the I hate america train.... I just signed up for the ACA exchange.... 6 dollars in government subsidies because I make 33,000 a year.
I don't know if anyone does the math, but 72 dollars a year in subsidized health care in the state of new jersey, with an income of 33,000 (for those playing along at home, that's 16ish an hour or roughly 500 a week after obscenely high tax rates)... is a !@%(ing joke.....
Thanks Obamacare!
I don't know if anyone does the math, but 72 dollars a year in subsidized health care in the state of new jersey, with an income of 33,000 (for those playing along at home, that's 16ish an hour or roughly 500 a week after obscenely high tax rates)... is a !@%(ing joke.....
Thanks Obamacare!
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