Battlefields and Holding Cells ((OPEN))
Feb 18, 2014 17:44:00 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Feb 18, 2014 17:44:00 GMT -5
Daryl closed his eyes and rubbed them with both hands. Stress….was that REALLY what he needed right now? Of all the things in any time period ANYWHERE, why did he need stress in THIS time period. August 23, 2010 was the date he had come back…he had left for Leningrad and the battle that had cost him everything on August 21st. Instead of finding the house he had bought with the money he had collected over his many journeys…..he found a pile of smoking rubble. The smoldering remains of the life he had made here as his home base blackened by the licking tongues of a fire that seemed to sinisterly destroy his very existence.
He tried to run through everything that had happened before he had left in his mind and found nothing. It all seemed to be eraised from his very subconscious. Maybe mostly because the battle was still fresh and this….THIS…was just making his stress grow more and more. Nothing he could think of could have caused a SIX MILLION DOLLAR HOUSE TO-
“Excuse me sir? Are you Mr. Matheson?” Daryl whirled around to find a police officer walking slowly toward him, giving him a once over. He looked cautious like he wasn’t absolutely sure a man wearing World War two ear Soviet Union fatigues wasn’t drunk and trying to piss on a random yard.
“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO MY HOUSE!?!” Daryl was infuriated, who cared that the cop now had his hand on his gun, his house was cinders!!
“Sir, I need to see some ID. If you don’t produce it I’m going to assume you are not Mr. Matheson…” Daryl growled out of announce and fished around in a pocket of the Combat cargo pants he was wearing and shoved a wallet in the cops face.
“Victor Matheson, Calious Romolus, Juan Padero. PICK AN ID AND WRITE IT DOWN, then tell me WHY MY HOUSE IS BURNED TO THE GROUND.” Apparently Daryl wasn’t thinking very clearly when he did this because after the cop picked up the wallet, with a LARGE amount of identification cards from multiple times and countries with different names, and flicked through it he seemed to find himself slammed up agienst a cop car and being arrested. Even worse, he then found himself in a holding cell after yelling at the officer for forty-five minutes to take him back to his house. Stress was starting to get to Daryl…and apparently making him manic….or was he always this insane?
He tried to run through everything that had happened before he had left in his mind and found nothing. It all seemed to be eraised from his very subconscious. Maybe mostly because the battle was still fresh and this….THIS…was just making his stress grow more and more. Nothing he could think of could have caused a SIX MILLION DOLLAR HOUSE TO-
“Excuse me sir? Are you Mr. Matheson?” Daryl whirled around to find a police officer walking slowly toward him, giving him a once over. He looked cautious like he wasn’t absolutely sure a man wearing World War two ear Soviet Union fatigues wasn’t drunk and trying to piss on a random yard.
“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO MY HOUSE!?!” Daryl was infuriated, who cared that the cop now had his hand on his gun, his house was cinders!!
“Sir, I need to see some ID. If you don’t produce it I’m going to assume you are not Mr. Matheson…” Daryl growled out of announce and fished around in a pocket of the Combat cargo pants he was wearing and shoved a wallet in the cops face.
“Victor Matheson, Calious Romolus, Juan Padero. PICK AN ID AND WRITE IT DOWN, then tell me WHY MY HOUSE IS BURNED TO THE GROUND.” Apparently Daryl wasn’t thinking very clearly when he did this because after the cop picked up the wallet, with a LARGE amount of identification cards from multiple times and countries with different names, and flicked through it he seemed to find himself slammed up agienst a cop car and being arrested. Even worse, he then found himself in a holding cell after yelling at the officer for forty-five minutes to take him back to his house. Stress was starting to get to Daryl…and apparently making him manic….or was he always this insane?