The ground shook as another mortar round exploded less than twenty feet away. The violent eruption of dirt and metal debrit knocked him from his feet and covered him with dust. He was spared the small fragments of shrapnel as he realized that several more of his comrades were lost when they had been cut down by the tiny chunks of hot metal that they had inadvertantly shielded him from.
His ears were ringing from the continued blasts and the constant buzz of automatic weapons. His eyes burned from the sweat and grime that filled them. His vision blurred but he realized that trying to clean them would be a futile attempt as his hands were just covered with more dirt.
He faitly heard the screams of several more men being cut down by Nazi gunfire, but realized that he almost didnt care. He wanted nothing more now that to make it out of this FUBAR'ed mission alive.
He felt someone tap him on the shoulder and he looked up to see the face of his captain.
"We're gonna make our charge!" he yelled over the sounds of death. "Pass it down to move on my signal."
He nodded his head and turned to another Marine that was about ten feet from him. He gave a rally signal and saw nearly half of his platoon shimmying over on their stomachs towards him. He relayed his orders using standard hand and arm signals and when he was sure that everyone understood what he wanted he turned back towards the captians position several yards away.
An eternity seemed to pass as he waited amidst the song of death for the charge to be started. He thought back on what it had been like when he had first signed up to defend the world. He felt like another person now and he almost couldn't remember anymore the young boy that had visions of being a hero.
The ground was rocked with explosions as another salvo of mortar rounds tore the earth and men to pieces.
"Where the hell are those damn planes?" he wondered to himself.
They had been waiting for air support all morning to help take out the machine gun bunkers and mortar nests, but the skies were empty.
He saw the captain's hand rise and fall and invoulentarily his body rose to the command. Men swarmed out from thier defensive positions and made a headlong suicide charge towards the enemy positions. The were met with the almost non-stop burp of machine guns and men fell by the dozens. Three men around him were hit immediately and collapsed into masses of bloody pulp on the ground.
He fired his own weapon in response and felt himself fill with a wild energy that seemed to propell him like a man possesed.
He made it nearly thirty yards before he felt the bullet tear into his shoulder and then felt himself being hurled to the ground under it's impact. He screamed in agony at the pain and was so transfixed on the wound that he would never feel the second bullet enter his leg.
He felt himself begin to lose conciuosness as the life blood flowed freely from his body. His body began to go numb and he felt himself begin to slip away.
He would never hear the sounds of ally planes roaring into assist them in their efforts. He would never hear the enemies call for retreat. He would just hear the sounds of his own screams as his mind faded away....

Jensill sat up in his bed with a start. His body was covered in blood sweat from head to toe and his chest hurt. His throat was sore from screaming although he knew it was all in his mind.
His eyes adjusted to the pitch black room and he realized that he was safe. He slipped out of bed and across the room to the bathroom. His hand found the switch and the light temporarily blinded him as he adjusted to its harsh glare.
The ceramic tiles felt cool against his feet as he made his way to the shower. He started the water and turned it up as hot as it would possibly go. He watched the steam begin to rise and then turned to other preparations.
Reaching into the closet he grabbed himself two towels, a bottle of body wash and one of shampoo. Normally he would not need to prepare for a night like this, if fact it was only recently that he'd begun stocking toiletries. Since the dreams started.
He stood under the water for nearly twenty minutes before he felt it start to coll and decided it was time to step out.
Turning off the water he reached out of the stall and grabbed the soft terry-cloth towel and wiped off his face. When he closed his eyes he could again see the battle field and he shuddered.
Jensill dried himself off and stepped in front of the steam covered mirror. He took the other towel and wiped off the mirror before wrapping his hair with it and gazed at the image that passivly looked back at him.
His hand wandered up to the scar on his shoulder and his fingers ran over its rough surface. He didn't remember the medics attempt at patching him up in an effort to save his life. He also had no memory of the doctors discussions about amputating his leg after trying nearly in vain to rescue it. He only remembered waking up in a hospital some days later feeling like he'd been kicked by a mule. And kicked hard.
He smiled at himself as he thought of how hard he pushed to recover so he could return to battle and where the decision had left him. It wasn't even two months later
that he was back on active duty and had gone out on his first mission since his injuries that he had encountered his sire and was forever changed.
He wondered momentarily what his life would have been like had he taken the discharge he'd been offered and had returned to the United States.
"You would have died old, and happy." He told himself aloud. But he knew that was a lie. He knew he probably would have died penniless and drunk.
Jensill smiled again at himself and headed back into his bedroom. Shedding the towel, he began dressing for the night. Fore going the usual black leather, Jensill slipped into a pair of navy slacks, a black collarless dress shirt and black dress shoes. He pulled his hair back into a thong, slipped on his shoulder holster and matching suit jacket and headed towards the garage.
Jensill paused to look lovingly at his Harley, but stayed with his decision to leave it home tonight. Insead he slipped behind the wheel of his newly acquired Lexus, hit the button on the garage door and slipped silently into the night.

(( Great post man, keep it up :grin:

The black sedan slipped silently through the quiet city streets of Cascadia. The roads were virtually deserted this late in the night and it was no surprise to him as it was still early in the week. Come this weekend their would be people out partying, but as it was most of the hookers had even gone home to sleep.
Jensill was coasting along listening to the local rock station dj drone on about nothing that really mattered when it hit. The vision struck like a hammer when it came and he found himself no longer sitting in a plush luxery car, but again on the battle fields of northern Europe.

The smell of sulfer hung heavily in the air as the night rang out with the constant rattle of gun fire. He was running, and fast. He'd been seperated from his squad somewhere during the fire fight and was now trying desperaely to escape through the woods adjacent to the small village that his unit had assaulted.
Intelligence had stated that the village would contain a small company element that had been assigned to guard several high ranking German officials and diplomats on their way, by train, from Paris back to Berlin. As usual, intelligence had been wrong. Instead of finding a small company of soldiers, the had found what seemed like half the German army camped out inside the village. But by then it had been to late to pull back. The german patrols had been set out further than expected and one of his sister units had been discovered. That was when the fighting started.
Now Jensill was alone, and all things considered, he was angry. Mostly at himself for asking to be reassigned to combat duty after he had recovered from his previous injuries. But now he let the anger drive him on. He vaulted a fallen tree and twisted his ankle slightly but didn't let it stop him long enough to inspect it or slow him.
The sounds of the German patrols, that should now be hot on his heals, were getting closer by the minute. The situation was only made worse by the fact that his Thompson submachine gun had jammed and he didn't have the time to spare to clear it.
A burst from a Nazi grease gun churped several times behind him and Jensill ducked as dozens of bullets wizzed by his head close enough for him to hear, and chewed off a section of the tree he was about to pass.
The next salvo came closer than he was comfortable with as he felt several of the rounds tear through the sleeve of his field jacket. Jensill stumbled as he tried to change direction in an attempt to avoid another close call. but instead he took several unbalanced steps and nearly spilled into a shallow ravine....

The sound of the trucks air horn brought him back to reality but not nearly in enough time. The front end of the Lexus slammed into the side of the garbage truck and caved in on itself under the force of the impact. In an instant the air bag deployed but did him little good at even slowing him down because he'd not put on his seat belt.
Jensill flew over the bag and steering wheel and through the windshield. He felt the glass bite into his skin and felt his wrist and fore arm break as it went through the glass. His body continued to sail through the air, but was then abruptly stopped as he slammed into the side of the massive vehicle he had just hit.
Jensill felt bones break and tendons popping as he collided with the solid steel compartment that housed all of the trash. His body bounced back off of it and onto what was left of the front end of his car.
Pain seared through him as body registered the full extent of his injuries. The blood automatically began to heal as he knew it would, but it was not enough,and as he had not fed in two days, Jensill felt himself slipping into unconciousness. Before he blacked out he heard a distinctly male voice asking him "Hey Buddy, are you alive?" A hand touched his neck in what he assumed was an attempt to find a pulse, and then he was gone.....

He didnt know how long he was out, but his mind slowly began registering things again as he realized that he was hearing the distant sound of sirens. He then noticed a considerable weight upon his chest and realized that a dead mans body lay across him. He could taste the fresh warm blood in his mouth and he knew what had happened.
Jensill also knew that he had better get moving or all of this and his very exsistance would be hard to explain. He shoved the cooling body clear of his own and sat up. His body cried out to him that it had not finished its work, and that it was going to require more blood to finish the job, but for now he guessed he would be alright. He had better be.
He slid off of the cars hood and looked himself over. His clothes were torn to shreds and he couldnt imagine what the rest of himself looked like. Surveying the immediate area he saw that he was not far from what appeared to be an alley. He knew there was a risk of it being a dead end, but he was better off there than standing in the street with another dead man.
Jensill scooped up the body of the trash man and headed for the realative seclusion of the side street. He made it safely into the darkness before the first car patrol car showed up. He felt bad for having to dump the body of the formerly oblivious man that had saved his unlife, but he had no choice in the matter. He couldnt run around with a corpse over his shoulder without drawing a lot of attention.
Jensill lifted the lid of a dumpster and slid the body in. A pair of cold lifeless eyes looked back up at him as if to accuse him, but Jensill knew he had no time for them now.
Closing the lid quietly, he slipped off into the night knowing full well that he'd catch a lot hell from Damien about this one.
(crossing fingers that I didnt leave to many errors)

[ This Message was edited by: Jensill Black on 2001-10-02 23:12 ]

(( Very nice post man! I have been so busy you wouldn't even belief me if i told you. But i will post something ic soon. Sorry i haven't been around but rl is pitching me a curve ball and i can't strike out. But things are looking up and i'll be back asap :cool: ))

Two city blocks and Jensill saw cop cars everywhere. It couldn't be helped and he knew that. He knew that people don't normally walk away from an car accident as bad as his. And with the amount of blood he lost, coupled with the fact that both he and the driver of the garbage truck had gone missing probably had the police in an uproar.
Jensill stepped up to the end of another alley and gave a look in both directions down the street. The last thing he needed was to be seen looking like he did. His body was healing rapidly, but his hair and clothes were still matted in blood and torn.
Not seeing anyone in either direction, more importantly, no sign of the police, Jensill sprinted across the street to the adjacent alley. Slipping into the darkness he bagan to make his way along it's length.
He just couldn't figure out what the hell had happened. He'd had the nightmares before, but he had never had one follow him into the waking hours. And it hadn't just followed him. It had become real, and had nearly cost him his unlife.
A loud crash behind him sent Jensill spinnig towards cover and around to face the source of the noise. His hand shot into his jacket as he turned drawing the semi-automatic pistol from his shoulder rig. He drew a bead on several trash cans that he'd passed twenty yards prior and saw that one of them had been knocked over.
A white and orange tabby cat scuttled out from the can, let out a long grow and hiss at him and ran off in the opposite direction into the night.
Jensill felt a flood of relief wash over him as the cat ran away. The last thing he needed right now was to get into anymore trouble tonight. He knew that what he really needed to do was to get back to the safety of the haven or his small rental.
Jensill safetied his weapon and reholstered it as he stood. Not completly over the feeling of the creeps the cat had given him, Jensill turned and was about to continue headeding down the alley when he stopped dead in his tracks.
"Hello, little Brother."
The last word was spoken with terrible contempt as Jensill gazed into the eyes of Edward Loncott II. First childe of Edward Desmond Loncott Senior and Jensill's most hated enemy. His mortal name had been Trever Smithe, but as with all children of the Loncott line, members of the clan took on the name of the lines sire.
It was a sick and twisted dynasty that Jensill had been brought into when he was created by his own sire. He had been a bastard childe though, as Edward III had created him without his "father's" permission. Jensill had known from the day that he'd been taken to the estate outside London, that he would never bear the name of Loncott. Something he had been secretly glad of from the first day he had met the rest of the "family".
When his sire had been killed during a nightly feed by the Sabbat, Jensill had known that the small amount of protection he'd had from the rest of the clan had disappeared with him. Jensill had taken that que and had bolted before anything could happen to him. He had never been so happy as when he had gotten freedom from he Loncott's. He had always secretly believed that the children of that line, including his sire, had been selected for imortality from the mentally unstable. After all, he had been created on a whim during the middle of a war. That's why he'd always felt he had not been accepted by them, because he was not like them.
And now, the most ardent antagoniser from his past stood before him in the most unlikely of all places. It didnt take having to put two and two together to know the source of the dream that nearly cost him his unlife and the now sudden appearance of Edward were no coincidense.
Edward had somehow developed the ability to create life like illusions. Vision so captivating that the individual seeing them, beleived them to be reality, and Jensill had seen first hand what they could do. Now they were being used on him.
Anger flared in him as he looked at Edward. His hatered for this one had run deeply and he'd always wished he taken some course of action against him while still in England. But now was not the time. He knew he had neither the blood nor the strength to handle this now.
But if it was meant to be, then he would welcome it. He just needed to buy alittle time. And he knew exactly how.
"Good evening, Trever." Jensill said to spite the man. "I see that the old man has loosened the leash on you a bit."

(In case anyone is wondering about the disc, its a PnP called Chimerstry)

[ This Message was edited by: Jensill Black on 2001-10-14 23:25 ]

(( :cool: hay that is a really cool post..long but worth it . keep it up.)) ;)

Trever laughed. "Is that it? Is that all you can think of, is to insult me?" A broad smile crossed the kindreds face.
" I almost feel like I've wasted my time here."
Trever took several steps forward in an attempt to intimidate Jensill, but the younger vampire held his ground. Trever stopped short when he realized that his tactic had not had the disired effect. Almost letting his anger for what he considered the inferior childe of Cain flair to the surface, Trever strained to maintain the smile he held.
"So, I see you have grown a spine since we last saw each other."
"Trever, I wasn't afraid of you then, nor am I now." Jensill replied. The statement wasn't entirely true. He knew that respect for the insane families power was definately tempered with a dose of fear. Although, who in their right mind would not be afraid of mentally unbalanced kindered who thrived on and excelled at killing things?
"Was that why you ran away from us like a dog with your tail stuck between your legs?" Trever asked.
Jensill began losing his temper at that point. He wasn't sure what the hell Edward/Trever or whatever he wanted to call himself, wanted. He was pretty sure though, that it wasn't going to be in his favor, and he was starting to get tired of waiting for it to happen.
"What the hell are you doing here? And more importantly, what the fuck do you want?" He snapped.
trever took a moment to answer reveling in Jensill's apparant aggitation. "Our illustrious sire, has recently, for reasons unknown, slipped into the Death Sleep."
"Well good for him." Jensill replied.
The smile faded from Trever's face. Above all, he could not tolerate poor manners, especially from someone that he felt was beneath him.
"As I was saying, since he has slipped into his comatose state, I have been left in charge of the family and all of it's 'business's. I have been overseeing affairs that have long needed tending to."
A sick realization occured to Jensill at that point. Trever wasn't hear to merely harass and bother him, he was here to kill him. Jensill knew that Trever thought he was a blight to the clan and to the Loncott's name. And he was hear to cleanse that stain from the family. He also knew that he needed to buy a little more time. He could feel the stiffness leaving his body and knew that he was almost completely healed. He wouldn't have the blood for any prolonged battle, but he would at least be on an even playing ground from the get go given a little more time.
"And what does this all have to do with me?" He asked.
"Ahh, well yes, I was about to get to that part." Trever replied. "You see I was here in America, tending to some of the families 'intrests'. When by mere chance, and totally unbenkownst to you, our paths happened to cross." Trever paused. "And after watching you and your pathetic little clan of vampires, I decided that it was the perfect opportunity to right a mistake that has plagued our family for some time now. Namely you."
Jensill knew that his time was now up and that fact was confirmed by the sudden attack launched by Trever.
With almost amazing speed the other kindred launched an offensive that nearly caught Jensill off balance. Trever came in with a heavy blow aimed at Jensill's face that would have probably taken his head off had he not bee expecting it. Instead he rolled with the punch and used its momentum to put some distance between he and his assailant by dropping back and rolling.
Jensill came up in a defensive stance and was immediately assaulted by several blows from Trever that he only narrowly parried. Immediately slipping into a framilar martial stance, Jensill was able to return several shots in his own offensive assault and landed two of them squarely in Trever's abdomen and one to his face knocking the other kindred back two steps allowing himself room to use his feet.
Taking a chance, Jensill threw his weight into a kick that landed squarely in Trevers chest cracking several ribs as it made contact.
The force of the blow lifted Trever up off of his feet and he was propelled several feet through the air where he came crashing down onto the ground.
The older kindred looked up at Jensill with hate and malice in his eyes. He rose slowly from the ground and dusted himself off.
"You'll pay dearly for that." He hissed.

"No...not right now I won't." Jensill replied.
His hand shot to his shoulder rig and began slipping out the Colt .45 1911 out of it's holster. Trever sprang at Jensill with rage in his eyes but was stopped short of his objective by several feet as the first hollow point ripped through his body. Jensill pulled the trigger as fast as he could until the weapons magazine was empty and the slide had locked to the rear. With each incoming round, Trever's body was rocked back as each bullet found its mark and rent flesh as it passed through, but the Brujah seemed to be standing his ground.
Any noraml being would have been torn to shreds by the hail of gunfire and would have been dead long before they hit the ground. As it was though, Trever now stood looking at Jensill with a blank expression on his face and then collapsed to the ground.
And that was when the shit really hit the fan. A patrol car that had been combing the neighborhood had head the first shot ring out. Now, the alley was ablaze in light from the cars high beams and overheads. A distinctly female voice rolled out of the vehicles loudspeaker.
"Put the weapon down and place your hands above your head!"
Jensill turned to face the vehicle in time to see the drivers door opening and the shadow of a lithe female form slipping behind it for cover.
"Turn around and drop the weapon!" she yelled.
Jensill slowly laid the Colt on the ground beside him. Turning away from her he stole a glance at Trever who still lay unmoving on the ground and raised his hands over his head.
"Get on your knees!, do it now!"
Jensill lowered himself to the ground and listened for her approach. He had to deal with this police woman before he could finish business with Trever and before the other kindred woke up. Jensill knew that Trever was probably healing fast and he didnt want to have to try and deal with him after he woke up. So far his luck had been next to incredible against Trever, but he doubted that it would hold out much longer.
Jensill heard the sound of the officer's shoes softly scraping on the ground as she appraoched. He felt her step up behind himself and prepared to take her when she got close enough.
"Lace your fingers together and place your hands on top of your head."
Jensill complied and when he heard her remove her handcuffs from behind her belt he knew his moment was close.
The officer reached out to grab ahold of Jensill's left wrist so that she could apply the cuffs, and when her hand made contact with him he moved. Faster than she could react, Jensill's right hand shot over to grab her by the wrist, and pulling her off balance, yanked her forward and over him so that she flipped onto the ground in front of him, never releasing his grip on her.
The officer screamed and made to roll over to defensd herself, but she was no match for him.
Jensill grabbed ahold of her other arm, pinned both of them across her chest and swung around to stradle her. Once seated on her chest, Jensill paused long enough to look into her eyes. He was not shocked by the look of surprise and terror that he was met with.
"I'm sorry." He whispered.
Realization that she was really about to die struck her hard and she began to scream. Jensill cut her off by removing the grip on one of her arms to cover her mouth. He brought his face down to her neck and bit in deeply. her warm blood flowed into his mouth and down his throat, but he did not enjoy it's sensation as he normally would. The officers free arm punched and swung at him in an attempt to dislodge her assailant, but her efforts were fruitless.
Jensill drank enough from her that his body would heal completely and have some reserves left over before he closed the wound and gently broke her neck.
He slipped off of her quickly, thankful that no others patrol cars had shown up yet and stripped her of her metal and flexy cuffs.
Jensill retrieved his pistol, reloaded it and slipped it into his waist band for easy access as he stooped over Trever. He'd just applied the first set of cuffs when he heard Trever moan, meaning that he would soon be coming around. He quickly finished tieing his prisoner up when Trever showed the first real signs of conciousness.
Jensill picked the other kindred up and placed him over his shoulder in a firemans carry and began running. He wasn't sure where now, but he knew that he was only going to survive if he moved fast.
He couldn't help thinking to himself that the night couldnt possibly get worse. He had totaled his new car, killed two innocent civilians and had come face to face with his first and oldest enemy, who though tied up and weak, was still very much alive and in the game. And he still had to look forward to the mauling that he was sure was in store for him from Damien. If that wasnt enough to get his ire, Trever came around to enough to threaten him.
"Don't think you've won anything, Black. I will still kill you."
"Shut up!" Jensill snapped. "The only reasons you aren't dead yet is I have neither the time or the proper place to kill your ass."
"You think ss..." was the only response Trever could manage before Jensill slammed his head into brick wall to silence him.

((woooh i like it .....keep up the great job :grin: ))

(( Very nice man, Sorry i haven't had much time to post on this or even be in game but i apologise and just want to let you know that i will be on soon and that as usual this is another great post man! Keep up the good work. Well i got to go back to work so i'll talk to ya later bro. ))

((great post. i like it. except only ravnos have chemistry. they usually kill those who give the discpline and the recipient. sorry, it's in the ravnos clanbook. i definitely think that what we talked about could happen. i'll wait... :grin:

Isis looks up at the night sky and looks at the moon. As she walks towards the rose garden she hears sirens.
"Huh. This is the first time I've heard this the entire time I've been here.", she thinks to herself.
She runs out to her car, grabbing her jacket on the way. She hops in and steps on the gas. She looks around with excitement.
"Finally, the first true sense of corruption I've seen.", she thinks to herself and smiles.
When she reaches the accident scene, she takes in the sight. There's a Lexus crumpled like a tin can into the the side of a garbage truck. It looks as though someone has gone through the windshield. She sees plenty of blood but no body. It looks as though there's more blood then can be accounted for one body. She sees plenty of police cars and fire trucks, but no ambulance. She looks around for the truck's driver, but doesn't see him.
"I wonder. I don't think who this happened to was human. Where is the driver? Where is the ambulances. I wonder if I can find the Kindred involved", she thinks to herself as she looks around and investigates.
She drive up and down every block, looking for the way ward vampire. She won't give up. She scans both sides of the road, hoping to see someone.

((take it away jensill, whenever you can
:smile: i hope it will be soon :P hopefully you won't be too bogged down with work.

((I DON'T CARE IF I HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS DAMN THREAD!!!! I've read the whole thing and true to Ventrue form I simply cannot stay out of it, it's too good. :P

The night sky stretched out for what seemed to be forever in front of Gabriel. He walked the empty streets silently and wordless, looking for any sign of Thin Blood activity. Thus far his night had been very uneventful. He had found a Caitiff working a night shift at a local mom and pops diner, but that was it.
He sighed, reflecting on recent events, the death of one of his closest allies, Mephisto, still fresh in his mind. It bled like an opened wound.
Pushing foward he saw the rythmatic flash of police sirens on a alleyway wall. Curious, he picked up his step and peeked down the alleyway. The police cars were on the opposite side of alley, the officers swarming like ants around what seemed to be a terrible accident. No bodies....but Gabriel's keen Ventrue nose could DEFINATELY smell blood.
Odd, he smelled Kindred blood at that. The sounds of an engine gurgled behind him and the Ventrue turned his view down the street he had just emerged from. A police car was scanning the area, a spotlight shining out the window. Looking for suspects eh?
Gabriel crept back slowly into the shadows of the alleyway. That's when he heard it....the sickening sound of ribs cracking. Shooting his gaze to the alleyway across the street, he could make out two figures. They're movements were quick and precise, far too much to be Kine.
He moved foward slightly to cross the street, and then the shots rang out. The closer of the two raised his gun and fired, lighting the alleyway up. His opponent fell to the ground with a thud. FUCK! That was sure to draw the attention of the approaching patrol car. How could that Kindred be so foolish??
As he suspected, the patrol car jolted foward and pulled into the alleyway. He watched in quiet disbelief as the officer stepped out and approached the seemingly submissive vampire. At the last moment, true to form, the creature snapped her around until was against the alleyway floor and fed on her. Gabriel could smell the female blood from across the street...
The sound of snapping bones rang out and Gabriel leapt from his hiding spot, assuming the officer was dead. His body was full of blood, having just recently fed, and he allowed it to speed his muscles to the maximum. The street blurred by as Gabriel launched himself into the air. He watched the beginning of the alleyway pass underneath him as he tucked his legs under himself.
He flew over the body of the police and finally made contact on the hood. He crouched on the hood and leapt vertically into the air. Rotating once in mid jump, the centrifical force caused him to move foward slightly. His shoes tapped against the concrete as he landed next to the body of the dead officer. He sniffed the alleyway curiously, years of having a blood preference had made him quite the conniseur of vitae.
Generally he could tell if the blood was Kine or Kindred, how old, what clan, what gender, and on a good day what generation. This was definately Brujah. He could smell the harsh thick tang of the blood, with the underlying sweetness. The bodies were both gone...but to where? Ahead, at the entrance of the alleyway, he heard whispering following by a THWACK!
Gabriel moved foward to find the source of all the activity....

((damn, sorry for the crappy post, not up to my writing par today. sometimes it flows...sometimes not

Isis sees Gabriel take care of hi business, but decides to stay in her black Porsche Boxster. She looks and thinks, "Maybe it was him?"