Inuyasha Fandom

An opening of the library door arose Dark from his readings, and a rather gruff looking man strode across the library. "You. You are not welcome in here. Get out."   Dark flashed a dangerous smile. "Really, now? Is that so? I beg to differ. It seems the master of this castle thinks otherwise. Now leave me, before I lose patience."   "You are not one to speak. You will obey my orders." The man began to draw his sword, and Dark's smile grew. "You think that will persuade me? Bring to me your master and let's see what he has to say."   "There is no need to disturb him. You will leave this library, by force if need be."   Dark shook his head. "No. I will not."   The guard reached to grab Dark by the wrist, but Dark was too fast. In an instant, Dark has his own hands wrapped around the wrist and throat of the guard, and he stared into the man's eyes. "Bring me your leader. I will see what he has to say about me being in here. Now leave me, or else I won't be so nice." Dark picked the man up by the throat and tossed him back at the library door, he skidding across the floor and hitting his head against the library door. He scrambled to get back up, but he did not leave.    "You will leave this library!" he exclaimed. Behind him, the library door opened once more, and a woman entered, looking around. "Would you be the Daemon Dark?" she asked, looking at him. Dark cocked his head. "Yes, I am Dark. What is it that I might be able to do for you?"   "Gabe wishes that you might enjoy your stay, and you are welcome to the grounds. We are preparing a light snack for you at this time, if you would have it."   Dark eyed the guard who had just attempted to assault him. "Hear that? I am welcome here. Now, let me be." Turning back to the woman, he smiled. "Yes, please. I would welcome a snack at the moment, it would greatly help in my research." Dark flashed a kind smile, and the woman nodded before leaving the room. Dark could hear her moving away, and then he turned his attention back to the man who had tried force him to leave the room. He glared at Dark, making it clear their little tussle wasn't over. He left, and Dark was alone save the man who had escorted him to the library in the first place.   Dark returned to his readings, and within minutes several women entered, bearing trays of various meats and cheeses. A goblet was sat beside him, as was a bottle of fine red wine. Dark smiled, and the women left. Dark poured himself a glass of the wine, and took a sip. It was a fine vintage, and was fruity and full of volume. He glanced over the two plates of food, and picked up a piece of provolone cheese. He returned back to reading, helping himself to the food. The hard salami was especially good, when paired with the aged apple smoked cheddar on the tray. He eyed the dessert they had brought him, something he hadn't had in decades. A french crepe filled with cherry filling. It was simply delicious, and he was thankful he had been given plenty of it.   As Dark read on, he muttered to himself about the complications of various spells he saw, or smirked and commented about being able to do spells so much easier already. He found his teleportation spell, though he was positive there had to be an easier way to go about it. Unfortunately, there was a chance to be off course by up to a hundred miles in any direction, unless Dark personally had already been to the location being teleported to. It wasn't surprising, that was usually how things worked anyway.   Dark continued reading, finding spells he liked and didn't like, spells he already knew and didn't know. It was somewhat amusing how much farther magical workings had come since the times these books were written. Looking back at the plate of meat, Dark grabbed a chunk of beef. It was delicious, he'd never had beef so well cooked and seasoned. He returned back to the book, if only to close it and move on to another. Eventually, the trays were emptied and the wine was gone, and the same women who brought them in took them away.   An hour or so later, Dark was finished looking through the magic books, and he stood. He cracked his neck, and proceeded back out into the hallway. The guard followed him where ever he went, treading not far behind the Daemon. Dark made his way to the training hall, and observed the many men and women sparring against one another. As he watched, a group of them came together, and he smirked. They were talking about him. It was obvious with their furtive glances and their hushed voices. Sensing something about to happen, Dark took his leave and made his way back to his quarters. Dark was not about to become known to be confrontational. He lied back on the bed, allowing his eyes to close and to drift off to sleep.

Dark felt himself quickly ushered from outside and through the castle. He was led to a room that was sparsely decorated with only a wooden desk, a chair, and a bed. It wasn't exactly suiting to his taste, but he would make do with the accomodations anyway. He sat his umbrella and his suitcase down beside the bed before sitting in it himself.  Dark found it to be rather lumpy and uncomfortable, though that wasn't surprising.  Looking down at his nails, he pondered if he would be using them. Shaking his head, he got to his feet and proceeded back out of the room. It seemed Gabe was a shrewd man, he'd posted guards.   "Tell me, young man, will you be able to tell me where the library is?"   "I will take you. You are to be escorted everywhere, Daemon."   "The name I choose to go by is Dark. Remember that, or you might find yourself in a world of hurt." Dark smiled.   "Come." The guard began to walk through the stone halls, leading Dark through the castle. They traversed the length of the entire structure, and them up a flight of stairs. Walking back down another hallway, they came to a pair of oaken doors, and the guard swung them open. Just on the otherside was shelf after shelf laiden with massive tomes, dating back through the ages.   "What are you looking for? I may be able to help you find it."   "Magical research. I wish to possibly add some new spells to my already impressive resume."   "I see. Far back of the library, and to the left is where we keep such things."   "Thank you." Dark made is way over to where directed, and ran his fingers along the dusty tomes. Powerful magics were already in place, as the damp of the castle was far from beneficial to the books and scrolls. Yet the tomes, while yellowed with age, were impeccable and plainly legible. They were in all sorts of languages, and Dark swirled his finger through the air and then touched his face. The knowledge of the texts in languages he didn't know were now available to him, thanks to his "Languages" spell. It would wear off within the next few hours, though that was plenty of time before he'd have to refresh the spell. Picking a massive, dusty book from the shelf titled "Life Magic" he carried it over to a table lined with chairs. He prowled through the pages, looking over the spells in the book. Most required some kind of material component, something he could do easily. Regeneration spells were a nice highlight of the book, and the book was even in-depth enough to explain the different magical energy wavelengths required for different supernatural creatures. However, it was the resurrection spells that were the real treat. But, the spells for reviving fallen warriors had a time limit that they could be enacted upon. Usually but a few minutes to a few hours of their deaths, and only if the spirit was willing to return to the body. Diamond dust was the component needed for all of these particular spells, something he could conjure in an instant.   Heading back to the shelves, he saw another tome titled 'Destruction Magic' and with a smile he took the book off the shelf. Looking around some more, he found a few more books that looked appealing to him. Time-space manipulation, Ailment inflicting magic, and some magical gardening techniques. All of the books he grabbed looked to provide some interesting information. He sat down and began to go over the books, starting with the destruction magic. A smile appeared on his face, widening with the addition of the memorization of the spells he didn't know.

Dark looked down at his plate, and then at the impressive banquet laid out on the table. It seemed this formal dining area was one of the few rooms spared in the fight, as it was as pristine and orderly as the rest of the manor as when they had arrived.   "Malachai, might I pose a question?" Dark took a bite of the mashed potatoes, and found them delicious. He'd definitely be copying these with his magic.   "Yes? What is it, Mister...erm...." The old vampire faltered, having not caught the Daemon's name yet.   "You may call me Dark, as can everyone else in this room." He shot a sidelong glance at Akieen filling her pie hole with food. "Now, I have an issue with ammunition for my weapons. Would you be able to procure some for me?" Dark eyed the man, his eyes peering at him, unwavering. "There is no one left alive in this city, correct? I must find more ammunition, and I am sure vampires would be able to offer more than just a standard variety."   The vampire cocked his head. "Yes, that should not be a problem." Malachai leaned forward and pressed his fingers into his chin, smiling slightly. "Might I inquire as to your real name, Dark? I'm quite familiar with your reputation of giving fake names.  The red headed Daemon who likes the name Dark..."   "No. You may not." Dark replied shortly. "I do not give my real name." The pointed warning tone in Dark's voice made even Akieen glance at him. It wasn't often he wasn't perky and upbeat.   "I see. I understand then. Now, is there a particular alloy you would like your ammunition to be made of?"   "Darillium, if you can." Dark made a coughing noise, sounding like he was suffering from the worst smoker's cough imaginable. He lifted his hand to his mouth, and out he hacked a saliva covered orange hued metal slug.   "My god, Dark. That was disgusting. Couldn't you have just conjured it in your hand or something?" Akieen shook her head at him as she shoved more food into her mouth. Dark held the bullet between his thumb and pointer finger, shooting it at Malachai. In a second, he'd snatched the bullet from mid-air and began to inspect it. "Not something you can find so easily, Dark. Darillium is a magical metal harvested to kill supernatural beings with abnormally hard flesh, and is in awfully short supply."   "I'm aware. Can you do it?"   "Yes, but it will take some time."   "Thank you."   Kayin eyeballed Dark, blinking. "Did you... eat that?"   Dark smiled in response. "Of course. It was being saved for a special occasion."   Akieen giggled slightly at Kayin's disbelief at the thought of what Dark had apparently decided to have for a snack. "Kayin, I think you'll find Dark eats a lot of strange things." She giggled again, thinking. "Remember the Queen of France's panties?"   "Hey! I was so not getting busted with the Queen's underwear. You were the one who dared me to steal them. And then called the guards."   "And it was totally worth it to see you eat them to get rid of the proof because you didn't want to have to fight the guards. The look on your face..." she laughed. Mikhail shook his head. "I'll be sure to keep my underwear well away from him..."   "I don't make it a habit to eat underwear." Dark replied, taking a bite of his food. "I much prefer this to cotton."   "That should be your superhero name. Undie Eater Dark." Akieen chuckled.   "Sure, right after they start calling you Madam Fluffy Butt." Dark retorted. Akieen burst out laughing again, and Dark started giggling with her.   "Nutters... the both of you." Kayin remarked, making them laugh even harder.

I guess it really is better to just ignore them, now that I've read all this and have more information than I knew previously.  I'm in total agreement that they should be ignored.   EDIT: I find it funny that while in my readings, several people from a certain city claim they saw the Mayor of the city himself strangely close to their vehicles before all the tires were mysteriously slashed lol

I can tell you what I want. Anti-theft software installed on the systems. Like auto homing beacons or something that activate if a password or button sequence isn't entered. Allow it to be customizable so that every system doesn't have the same thing in order to discourage thieves.

Dark held his pistol in front of him, shooting rounds off as the monsters came racing at him. With a cruel smile and a righteous flair, he spun around picking off the foul creatures. They didn't seem to know when to stop coming. His aim for their heads was dead on, and the ensuing gore mucked up the nice clean walls. "I am so not cleaning this up." he commented. Looking down at his designer vest and trenchcoat, he sighed in disgust at the blood and organic matter on him. "Darian, right?" he asked the vampire fighting along side him. Dark blasted another round off into another were-wolf as it leaped at the vampire.   "Yes, what is it?" he replied, snapping the neck of a monster as it charged him.   "I'm charging your people to have my clothes dry cleaned." Dark lifted up his suitcase to block the attack of another, its claws shattering against the case. It howled in pain, reeling back, and Dark smiled. "Idiot." He casually lifted his pistol and fired a round into the middle of its forehead. Brain matter splattered on the wall behind the were-wolf and it fell lifeless to the floor. "I remember these creatures being a lot tougher." he commented, shrugging. "I guess times change."   Darian looked at Dark in disbelief at his casual attitude. "Who the hell are you?" he asked.   "You may call me Dark. Now, about that dry cleaning bill..."   "It can wait!" Darian yelled at him. "We have bigger problems right now, you loon!"   "It's been awhile since I've been called that. How refreshing." Smiling, Dark leveled his suitcase, and wished he'd kept his umbrella on him. He'd left it by the front door along with several others he'd seen sitting in a bin. Aiming at the horde of monsters coming at him from a broken down wall, he smiled wide and flicked an almost invisible switch on the handle of the case.   The steady sound of the machine gun inside the case let loose in the air, loud and unmistakable. With a wide smile on Dark's face, the machine gun rounds ripped through the crowd of monsters, leaving several corpses piled at the base of the wall and more still inside the hole. Several other were-wolves tried entering, but they were met with a barrage of gunfire and Dark made short work of them. Soon enough, as he kept firing, and after killing several more wolves, the suitcase ran out of ammo and he was forced to resort to his pistol again. He threw the suitcase at another wolf, and took advantage of it being caught off-guard to remove its head with another shot. "Damn. Last bullet." Reaching out, he snatched a wolf by the scruff of its neck and tossed it back out the broken window. Whirling around, he shoved his gun down the throat of another wolf and then used it as leverage to rip the wolf's head off. He launched himself across the room, aiming a blow with the butt of his muck covered gun into the lower abdomen of a massive were-wolf that lumbered through the shattered door. It haunched over from the blow, the air knocked out of it's lungs. Picking it up by the neck, he threw it into a wolf about to attack Darian. Dark reached out and snapped the leg off of a nearby chair, and ran his finger against the jagged edge, lighting it on fire. He stabbed a were-wolf in the groin about to slice him into bits, and it doubled over before suddenly it screamed as a loud FWOOSH! accompanied fire erupting from every orifice in it's body. It fell, smouldering.    "A sorcerer?" Darian said, taken back in surprise. "Akieen seems to have made the most peculiar friends." The vampire punched through the chest of a were-wolf, removing it's heart and spinal column.   "Live a couple milleniums. You'll do that." Dark chided jokingly. He pulled the still flaming chair leg from the corpse and threw it into the head of another, lighting it's fur on fire and sending it into a blind, burning panic. "Damn, I meant to impale it." Dark rolled across the room, jutting up with his feet into the jaw of a wolf, before spinning on his hands and grabbing it by the neck with his legs. In a swift, fluid motion, he used one of his many observed fighting moves to throw the furry abomination into the burning wolf, and then backflipped over to grab the chair leg. Grasping it tightly, he moved his hands along it and it  elongulated into a flaming  wooden spear. He launched it to hit both of the two wolves square in the chest. With his eyes shimmering black, the fire on it erupted, the explosion rendering the wolves dead and the floor and ceiling scorched. And wolf parts raining down around the room.   "I think we'll call it even with that dry cleaning bill." Dark commented, looking around. There were no more wolves in the room, but it was obvious they had infiltrated other areas of the vampire den. Darian was lying on his back, having been knocked from his feet from the blast. Dark held his hand out to the vampire to help him up. "Oh, sorry about that. I didn't mean for you to get knocked around..."   "In all my years, I've never seen a sorcerer do all that hand to hand and use so little of his power." The vampire said as he got to his feet.   Dark smiled. "I've drained the souls of a few prized assassins in my time. They tasted like chocolate."

I never thought I of all people, being a flaming fruitcake and all, would be saying this. Let's be thankful the Salvation Army is 'too goodie goodie' to ever join forces with them. EDIT: let's hope Cosmo the God gets community service because people won't blame him lol

I swear, these hate-mongers need to be stopped. They need to be stripped of their status as a church and be classified as a hate group, which is what they are. I'm of the personal opinion that the preacher needs to be shot for all the hatred he incites. These bastards are not Christian. I'm more Christian than these people are and I'm not even of the religion. Known for signs that say 'Thank God for dead soldiers' and 'God hates ****' these ***** are one of the most obnoxious and rabid hate groups in America. Once you start a sign with 'God hates' anything, you cease to be Christian. Which brings me to my point of posting this. The Westboro Baptist church is now threatening to picket Newtown, Conn. as yet another one of their hate rallies. The good people of Newtown don't need to have the hate-mongers showing up on their doorstep. Over 475,000 people have signed a petition on the White House website asking to have the Westboro Baptist church stripped of their tax-exempt status and to have it classified as a hate group. However, the White House usually responds once a petition has reached 25,000 signatures but yet it has done nothing. This Church, with the desire to see other Americans suffering is high treason. Isn't that punishable by death?

Dark smirked at Akieen's frustration, and closed his fist, leaving his pointer finger out. His fingernail became inky black, and began to grow, stopping once it had reached a good three inches. He began to slice up the cheesecake, knowing his nails were impeccably clean. His nail went back to normal, and he picked up a slice of cheesecake and devoured it. "Best in the world..." he commented. Akieen hopped off her spot on the counter and picked a slice for herself. Taking a bite, her eyes widened, and she smiled. "Delicious!" "Glad you approve." he replied. A loud ringing began to eminate from his pocket, and he removed his smartphone and looked at the screen. "If you'll excuse me, I have to take this. I'll return shortly." he said, and walked away from Akieen and out of the kitchen. With a curt nod to the others in the apartment, he made haste to the exit. His phone stopped ringing as he locked the door behind him. He made his way back to the stairwell and proceeded upward. Once he had reached the roof, he pulled his phone out to return the call. He checked the time, and then made his phone call. The phone didn't even ring once before there was a click at the other end, the sound of someone picking up.[i] "Master?"[/i] A woman's voice spoke in Spanish. It was the head of his servants in his South American mansion, Rosarita Garcia. [i]"Yes, Rosarita. It's me. What is it?" [/i] [i]"Master, I was worried when you did not call me to inform us you had arrived safely."[/i] Dark smiled slightly, her concern touched him. [i]"I said that I would, and I was planning to call later tonight after our mission had been discussed. Have you prepared what I asked you to?"[/i] [i]"Yes, Master. Your pistol is ready."[/i] She said rather hesitantly. Dark's eyebrow twitched. [i]"And the other things I asked?"[/i] [i]"They are prepared as well. Will you really be needing such things?"[/i] Dark didn't immediately respond, thinking on it. [i]"Master?"[/i] [i]"I am afraid that I indeed will be. I will be arriving shortly to retrieve my items."[/i] [i]"Yes, Master. Please, be careful." [/i] [i]"I will, do not worry. I will see you soon."[/i] Dark hung up the phone and sighed. His pistol and magics were usually enough to deal with most enemies, but this time extra firepower couldn't hurt to help him and his team. Dark closed his eyes, concentrating on the fabrics of the realms. Opening his green eyes, he could feel the Ether Realm welcoming him. It was a place of spirits and shadows, a realm that was separate yet coexistent with the Material. He could travel much faster by traversing through the Ether Realm due to the properties of the realm. However, it was still taxing on him. Within minutes, he arrived at his manor nestled on the countryside, the many orchards of his property still in bloom. He crossed over into the Material realm once more, and proceeded up his walkway. The massive oaken doors opened, and Rosarita greeted him. She was a petite woman, shorter than her. She wore a ruffled maid's uniform and white gloves, and her jet black hair was tied back into braids. She escorted him to his study and gestured over to his desk. Sitting on it was a large nondescript brown suitcase with many stickers, each with the name of a different country. Lying next to it was a red umbrella and his massive pistol. [i]"I have already taken the liberty of ordering a replacement machine gun for your collection, Master."[/i] [i]"Excellent. Good work, Rosarita. Firearms are such a pain sometimes. Alas, I am afraid that I cannot stay, I must be on my way again." [/i] [i]"Be careful, Master. Please return to us safely."[/i] she responded. Nodding, Dark placed the pistol on his person and then picked up the suitcase and umbrella and left the manor, taking in the sight of it before traversing back into the Ether Realm and making his return to the apartment building. At least he could return via the same means as he had left, unlike when he had first arrived due to the limitations of his abilities. He landed on the rooftop, and looked down at his suitcase and umbrella. While most humans would have found them unnaturally heavy, they were easy for him to carry even without the aide of his magic. Even still, he knew that for those who had delicate senses it was impossible to ignore or mistake the faint scent of gunpowder and maintenance oil wafting from them due to the custom single barrel shotgun hidden in the umbrella and the high caliber machine gun residing in the bulletproof suitcase. Careful observation would reveal these items were not what they appeared to be. He smiled, thinking certain members of his team might enjoy playing with these toys a little too much. Not that it was a bad thing in his book, and he'd be happy to share. He slumped down, leaning against the wall to allow himself a moment to rest and recoup from his journey before heading back to rejoin the others, and possibly any newcomers who had arrived while he had been away. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, he plucked a golden pocket watch on a fine gold chain. Pressing the release clasp, he read the face of the ornate watch. He'd been gone for almost a half hour. Alone he sat on the rooftop, wondering about the mission would be. Eventually, he'd go back downstairs to the apartment, but the breeze on the rooftop was enjoyable. He lifted his face to the sky, watching the passing clouds and thinking to himself. The whites of his eyes shimmered obsidian and the irises glowed brightly for but a split second as he contemplated the world's state of affairs. "And so the horizon darkens..." he muttered. "Hmph." Placing the watch back in his picket before removing a pack of Camel brand smokes, he removed one and then pulled his phone from his pocket again, and a pair of ear buds. He put them on and hooked them into the phone. He snapped his fingers, and a small flickering flame appeared, which he used to light his smoke before blowing out the flame. He started searching through his music, and smiled on finding something he could listen to.

It's alright, I understand. Life happens whether we're ready for it or not. EDIT: Note the hearse doesn't talk...

I must have gotten confused. Oops. Sorry about that. K.G, I'm deeply saddened that you agree with me, but at least I'm not alone in my thoughts on the matter. It does seem kind of inevitable at this point. And I agree wholeheartedly with everything you said. Teachers really should be allowed to carry conceiled weapons, if only to protect the children. And it's sad that we feel we need to resort to that.

In all honesty, we have to wonder why all this is happening. None of those people deserved to die like that. And two school shootings in a month? Not to sound callous, but I have to wonder if this crap is only the beginning. What worries me is this might be the start of a chain reaction that will lead to more and more events like this, and with even worse outcomes than we've already seen. This shooting is the second dealiest in history, with only Virginia Tech ahead with 33 people killed. [quote name='Allamorph' timestamp='1355589493' post='712596'] [font=Calibri]I have found that, when a person is hurting that much, the best thing one can say to them is nothing. Simply your presence is enough. And often a shoulder.[/font] [/quote] Unfortunately, I'm probably going to have to agree with Chibi-master. Perhaps you are right, but I'm not even sure if he was hurting in some way. This was an act of fiendish intent. I honestly think with the fact the guy killed his brother and his mother first before the shooting at the school supports my opinion. He wanted to destroy people and hurt others as much as he could because he wanted to. All reports say he was seriously messed up in the head. I'm not sure what all happened with the Virginia Tech incident. Not that either of these massacres is acceptable. These crimes are atrocious. Personally, I'd be Employee Of The Year in Hell if I had a chance at these bastards. Let's not go into detail as to how I'd punish them. Just know it's unique and creative. And Painful. I don't know what could go through someone's mind to point a gun at a child and pull the trigger, but no personal vendetta could give reason for it. I may not have ever wanted children of my own, but this makes me stand by my decision to not have them even more. I could never handle something like this. I can't imagine what's going through those poor parents' minds, or the husbands and wives and families of the adults killed, but my thoughts are with them. No parent should ever have to bury their child, and my sympathies are with all affected by this tragedy.

Dark wandered the halls of the apartment building, slowly making his way up the stairwell, keeping away from the elevator. He wasn't in the most positive of moods, considering he'd had to leave on such short notice. Taking the key from his pocket to the apartment he'd been told to meet the rest of his team at, he gazed down at it thinking just what could happen in the near future. Smiling, he used his right hand to lift the key to the knob. The left swirled in the air and then materialized a succulent tray of monstrous cheeseburgers loaded with various cheeses. He smiled, thinking they'd be enough to satisfy even Akieen. Food was something he'd learned to perfect, in part thanks to the 'young' lady. Unfortunately, when it came to food, his magic was limited to things he had tasted and ingested himself. Opening the door, he found himself in a breezeway to a living room. He smiled, the familiar scent of the wolf lady coming to his nose. "Akieen, it's nice to know we'll be working together." He moved around, and through another doorway spotted a kitchen. He laid the hefty beef and cheese monsterburgers down on a table. "You're one of the few whom I never sense coming." Akieen smiled, greeting him and making her appearance visibly known to him. She oogled the cheeseburgers. "Could you have done medium rare?" She asked, taking one. "Like you'll care with how they taste." He winked at her and smiled. "Don't worry, I can make more than this in thirty seconds. With how you and I eat, I suppose it's a good thing I've perfected this little magic spell." Akieen nodded her head vigorously. She was smiling with her mouth full of cheeseburger heaven. Pointing at a place next to the burgers, he swirled his finger once again and a yellowish mist flowed from his finger, and formed a circular glob on the table. It solidified, and it's edge browned and the dessert plopped up blobs of cherry preserves. "A cheesecake, hm?" Akieen asked, once her mouth was empty. Dark nodded. "Of course. and there's ribbons of fudge in there. I'll make something else as well should you desire it. Or any foodstuff desired by anyone for that matter."

"Wow. Aren't you showing some love to this old gal." "Wha-d-OW!" Was the woman's reply as she hit her head in surprise. "Oh. My apologies. I didn't intend for that to happen." The woman's voice crackled again over the radio. "Thanks for the interest in me." "Yeah... apology accepted. ****, this hurts." "Well, It's still nice to meet you. I'm Justine. Justine Graves. I suppose people are calling me 'grave justice or some such. Not a bad nickname, if I do say so myself. And you, ma'am?" Liz smiled in response. "Liz. You got a nice car here. A bit worse for wear, but nice none the less." "Thank you. I rather like the behemouth you're driving. Much tougher than most. Like it should be." "I'm sure it would appreciate that. And me, too, for that matter." Liz smiled, still rubbing her head and sitting up on the seat. "So, why are you on the road?" the car asked. Liz shrugged. "Wandering." "Really." The car paused, thinking for a second."I suppose as well. Though, I suppose I like to kill bad things too much too stick around one place for too long." "That, amigo, we can agree on. I suppose I should thank you for saving my life. Thank you. Nice trick with that ditch, by the way." "You handled things pretty good yourself. I loved the rocket launcher." The car laughed. After a second of silence it spoke again. "Want to go kill something with me?" It suddenly asked exuberantly. Liz cocked her head, perplexed at the sudden excitedness in the rather dark question. "That depends. What are we killing?" "A killer hearse." The car responded, anger seeping into her voice. "That bastard has gotten away from me too many times. It likes to prey on humans. And it's been seen again. I'm going to end that son of a ***** once and for all. I could use some help from another vehicle." Liz looked at the roof, allowing her head to tip back. "Well, I suppose I can get food out of the deal, and I do like something far from boring to do with my time. And it'll be my good deed for the year. Sure. I'll help." "That's good. I should tell you, you'd be amazed at the selection of food I can make." "Good to know. So, where are you headed?" "West. Specifically, the former state of New Mexico. I can handle the gasoline for you." Liz blinked in shock. "Wow. Not needed thanks to modifications, but thanks. Now, What can't you do?" "Lemon custard. It's always burnt." ---------------------------- Chris made his way to the plane, taking in the sight of the old relic. The plane was fascinating. Not to mention... it was a plane! The visible facial expressions on the nose of the plane was intriging as well. "No needed to show me, I'll take your word for it. My given name is Chris. Do you mind? It's my refresher time for my persisted spells. Do you mind waiting about five minutes?" "If you can answer a question. All of the smoke. What was responsible for it?" Chris smiled. "If you'll wait I'll tell you all about that. I'll even give you a start for it. It was a vehicle, a pre-rifts relic much like yourself that was the cause." The plane was silent for a few seconds. "I approve of your plan to wait. Five minutes, correct?" "Yes. I've timed myself before, so I've known what my best time was." Chris walked fifty feet from the plane, and he could feel it watching him. He closed his eyes, and held his hands out. Appearing next to his outstretched right hand was a glowing, shimmering hour glass. From his left came a multi-hued mist, shimmering and flowing into the hourglass and changing the sand. Once the sand had filled the bottom, the hourglass turned, and began to tick away the hours. "There we go. Remembering all the energies required for that at the same time is so much easier now that the school has trained me some." "That was thirty seconds." the plane retorted. "Is there more?" "Of course." Chris smiled again, and turned back to concentrate. Spinning in place, a shimmering, twinkling mist-like force began to form from a clear circle at his feet. Lines began to appear below him, and he floated gently in the air above the swirling mass of golden glowing lines. An emblazoned sun symbol counterbalanced an equally ornate moon, and then it all faded and he returned to the ground. His next ritual involved him turning back to the plane."Do you mind me studying you for one minute? As long as we're together, it couldn't hurt things for me to better understand some of the energies of you to better help you however brief our time might be. I can promise I'm good enough to limit myself as to just how deep I go. If you're opposed, then I'm done early. I'll still tell you what you want to know." The plane was silent for a few seconds, considering things. "Fine. Do as you wish, human." "I am Chris. Keep calling me human, and I'll come up with a nickname for you." The plane smirked. "I'm sure you have one in mind already. I'll be sure to keep [i]that[/i] in mind. I overheard your lovely comments." "Well, you were watching me. What do stalkers do? They watch. I'll admit, up close and personal so to speak I'm rather liking you." "And I you." The plane responded. Chris looked on at the plane, his palm outstretched now, aimed at the plane. He closed his eyes, and he concentrated. As he opened them, his eyes were again bright orange. To him, he could see the tangible energies of the plane, looking like wisps of fog rolling off of it and fading off. As he concentrated, he could feel the planes various systems functioning, and the energies animating it as well. Then, he felt the plane as a whole. Even at rest, it was still a faintly glowing entity to him now to his enhanced sight. "Let's see here... Magical enhancements... that's good." Chris went a further in the direction he wanted, to its abilities, not it's 'personal space' in the craft.He didn't want to go into its past, or into any personal things. That was none of his business, and the plane could speak of such things if it wished. Suddenly, the plane felt Chris grazing gently at it's mind, though never venturing further than the surface, that of the body. Information leaked into it, but was not taken from it. "Your spells... To defend yourself over time. I know what you did. Interesting."" "A side effect." Chris replied with a faint smile. "I know exactly what you're doing now. I can read your thoughts. You knew this would happen should you be allowed this opportunity." "You have a problem with me continuing?" Chris hesitated in his probe into the plane. He looked at the eye of the nose art. "I will stop at any time." "I find this all very intriging, and I know exactly what you are doing and why. I do not take issue.. And I thank you for your respect. Will this persist with us?" "No. Once this spell is done, then it is over. I will, however, be able to have a complete lock on you with my HandyGadget." Chris's bracelet glittered in the faint light. "And any effect I might be able to bestow on your weapons thanks to this little lesson in history with you might make things more fun in the near future." A nasty smile flittered across his lips and his eyes narrowed. The magic allowing the mental bond between the two caused the known effect in place. The plane's eye widened with surprise at the surprisingly grotesque and numerous (and disturbing) new ways Chris could help it kill. As Chris stared at the plane and let the plane see the things he could do, he could feel it becoming more and more excited at a prolonged partnership. It's mouth turned more more into a smile. Chris's fantasies were surprisingly creative and detailed. And very, very dark by most people's terms. With a giddy undertone. Paired with impressive leaked memories of similar events in the past with artillery. Pirahna machine gun bullets were a particular favorite of Chris's. Unfortunately, Chris had some rather awkward thoughts, like rubber chickens having been implored in some completely legitimate designs. The spell ended, with small webs of pure magical energy which the plane could disperse at any time of it's own will, The didn't interfere, they were just a connection to the weapons and then connected to the pilot seat. Even those with magical powers would be hard pressed to see them.To have any effect at all on them, he had to sit in the seat. "Good to know you can't ever do that again." The plane said once he was finished. "Repulsive energies and such operating at accustomed opposite wavelengths." The plane seemed to enjoy this time with its present company. "You fascinate me. I think we shall get along fine. And the answer is 'No,' to your question." The plane watched as Chris climbed up to it and into the cockpit. "These temporary energies are easily sustainable, and do not make me uncomfortable in any sense." "Good." Chris looked around the cockpit. "So. Because you don't yet know where I'd like to go, I'll tell you. And why, if you're interested." "Speak. I shall ready for departure. We'll leave on your word once I'm finished." The plane began firing up, and Chris spoke. "Well, we're headed to the south western part of the United States, to New Mexico." Chris was silent for a second. The plane caught quickly and spoke. "Because there's something to destroy there." "Yes." Chris was silent some more, and removed a small item from one of his many pockets. In his hand was a half burnt photo of a man and a woman with an infant child. Thankfully, only a small corner of the picture was burned, the lower left. The man was dressed in a wide brimmed hat with a shiny 'Sheriff' badge. "What we destroy is related to those people?" "Yes, yes it is." Chris said darkly. "This was my mother and father a few days after I was born." Chris looked at his parents smiled, but then he sighed. "I've heard that an organization associated with the entire destruction of the town has surfaced there. Some fuckers called the Coalition. Apparently, it's their synonym for brothers in crime." "What exactly happened?" The plane asked. Chris shrugged. "Genocide. They like to do that a lot." "Well. I suppose we can do something about that." Chris smiled. "This should be fun." The plane had a smug tone as it spoke next. "Now, about that smoke..."

Here are all things Armageddon. Ideas, issues, questions, and comments can all go in here. This first Post is where I'll be editing information in about known enemies and we're on the hunt for, as well as some of out allies. As the time comes, I'll be putting more and more information here. Once we start meeting up, our first order of business is to destroy the ghost hearse Black Death. We'll be handling that within a few posts. Here is your first enemy: Ghost Hearse "Black Death" Stories tell of haunted cars driving down the remains of highway crisscrossing what was once the Old United States. Some are good, some are evil. Some of the darkest tales told are about a black vehicle which is considered to be the harbinger of death. Even many of those who consider themselves to be evil avoid the car and it is told that other haunted vehicles avoid the evil Hearse as well. The car appears to be a black vehicle known as a Hearse, a type of vehicle also known as funeral cars. Most often the Black Hearse seems to be seen in the Southern parts of what had been the United States, especially the states of Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. It can also be sometimes found driving through areas of Mexico as well. The Black Hearse appears to have seen better days, the dark tinted windshield is cracked and the vehicle has rust spots and has actually rusted completely out in a number of areas especially in the lower side panels. The half top is also black but is ripped and frayed as well. The curtains inside the rear area are yellow from age and are tattered in many areas. The inside has cracked black leather seats and leather dash. If someone peaks through the curtains into the rear, they will see an open coffin with a rotting corpse or skeleton inside of it dressed in fine cloths and often dressed in elaborate jewelry. Sometimes the dead body is male and sometimes the corpse is female. The engine sounds as if it has blown multiple gaskets and makes sickly sounds as if it is on its last days. Unfortunately, this is not the case. From out of the exhaust pipe comes sickly green smoke and blood appears to drip out as well. Around the car, the sickly smell of rotting flesh can be perceived and there is just something emanating from the car which is pure evil. The Black Hearse seems to prefer the night and especially dark and dreary days. Rainy night are some of the most common times which it might be seen. While most sightings of the car have been at night, stories tell of the car being seen during sunny days as well, maybe it is on errands of its own. No one really seems to know what drives the car and those who have looked inside have never seen anyone in the drivers seat. There are many stories about the origin of the Hearse. One tells that the Hearse was owed by a serial killer who used his business as an undertaker to get rid of corpses and then refused to give up his stalking and murdering when he died. Some think that he was a necromancer. Tales also tell that he died in the Black Hearse and so became part of the car. Stories about the vehicle seem to have originated only a few years after the coming of the Rifts. There are reports of Coalition thugs having encountered the car and having attempted to destroy it each time. Other groups and even vehicles such as Grave Justice and Red Racer have tried to destroy it. So far, the car has survived every attempt at its destruction. Even though the car appears to be badly rusted, it is extremely tough and seems to have the ability to simply disappear. Whenever the car is hit, it leaks what appears to be human blood. Occasionally the car will stop to pick someone up although no one living has ever gotten out of the Hearse again. Even so, some people seem to be stupid enough to enter the car. Some mystic scholars believe that the essence of these people power the car. A story is told of two companions and one of the companions got into the car. The second person refused but weeks later the car pulled beside him and he looked in the back. He saw the rotting corpse of his friend. Stories also tell that a vampire can ride in the car without being harmed and that a vampire is even protected from the sun while riding in the car. It is also said that the car will sometimes stop to pick up a vampire and they will hunt together. The vampire will drag a victim into the car and it appears that both share the feast. It might be that the car cannot consume supernatural creatures because all victims, according to tales told, have been normal humans. In addition to consuming anyone who enters the car, the Hearse will sometimes engage in wanton destruction such as throwing evil magic to devastate a town or sometimes simply running someone over on the road. These destructive powers includes the ability to summon an army of the dead. It also has the ability to enchant the dead so they are invulnerable to everything except heavy weapons. One trick it has done which has been recorded several times has been to attack a village from one direction and quickly drive to the other side. It will allow its door to be opened as if it is means of escape and then it will consume its passengers. It is very unpredictable, sometimes it will just pull up to someone so they can just see the dead body riding in the back. [img]http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b199/Ken_H/Auburn%202007/Picture242.jpg[/img] [img]http://i386.photobucket.com/albums/oo303/60elky/009.jpg[/img] *Note: Not actual car Type: 1959 Cadillac Superior Hearse Class: Haunted Pre-Rifts Commercial Automobile Crew: Zero or One (Can carry up to two passengers in the front area) Speed: Ground: Top speed on roads of 120 mph (193.1 kph) with a normal cruise speed of 66 mph (106.2 kph.) The car is not really designed for off road travel, top speed is 40 mph (64 kph) Statistical Data: Height: 4.8 feet (1.46 meters) Width: 6.2 feet (1.90 meters Length: 20.4 feet (6.2 meters) Weight: 4,800 lbs (2,200 kilograms Power Source:Magic, the Hearse's systems seem to work as if run by magic. Originally, internal 7.0 liter combustion engine. Cargo Capacity: The Rear Cargo compartment, if cleared of the coffin can carry around 150 cubic feet (4.25 cubic meters) of volume. Space has approximate dimensions of 10 feet (3.0 meters) long by 5 feet (1.5 meters) wide by about 3 feet (0.9 meters) tall. In addition, a small amount can be stored in the driver's compartment. Weapon Systems: None but can use various magic spells. Special Abilities as a Haunted Vehicle: Will of Its Own: The car sometimes has a will of its own and and operates completely independently. The car appears to chose its own course (Will not allow anyone else to drive) and it never allows any passengers (including vampires) to activate its own abilities. The Hearse is quite evil and twisted. Its alignment should be considered to be diabolic. It sees anyone who gets inside to be its prey. It also likes to simply cause as much destruction as it can including using its magic to rain down destruction and to run over living beings while it drives down the road. The only creatures it has not been seen to murder are vampires which the car seems to regard as its allies. Inexhaustible Propulsive Force: Range and fuel are not a problem; the car seems able to go on forever, powered by a magical source. Regenerates Damage: The Hearse will regenerate at 20% per day, meaning all damage will be restored within 5 days of being damaged. Even if a location is completely destroyed, it will slowly regenerate until completely restored. The vehicle will only be destroyed if the vehicle is brought to utter and complete destruction. Otherwise, the vehicle will regenerate all damage. Whenever the Hearse is damaged, it will appear to bleed. Rejects Modern Components: The automobile will not accept the addition of modern components and components will seem to fail within a few days. Natural Invisibility: The automobile is capable of assuming an invisible (Both Visually and on Radar) and perfectly silent state, even when running full out! The vehicle cannot engage in any sort of offensive action (such as an attack spell) without dropping its invisibility. Can engage this ability 4 times per day with a duration of up to 60 minutes at a time. Natural Intangibility: The vehicle has the ability to become immaterial and intangible, and ghost through solid objects. The car can drive right through solid objects and can drive over water when the enchantment is activated. The car cannot be harmed by normal weapons while intangible but can be effected by magic, magic weapons and psionics. Conventional weapons (used by a vampire passenger) cannot be used while the Hearse is intangible. Speed does not change while intangible. The car appears to be ghostlike when it goes intangible and cannot be detected on radar. Can engage this ability 4 times per day for up to 30 minutes at a time. Blood Sacrifice: When the car allows a living passenger to get in (or are forced in), the car uses their energy to power itself. The car will usually wait until it has traveled a little distance from where they had picked up the unfortunate passenger. If the person is in body armor, the vehicle will wait until its victim takes off their helmet. The person will suddenly find themselves with the seat belt pinning them in the seat. The belt will not release and the door will not open. The only way to escape is to have supernatural strength. Wires will then come out to strangle the rider and later carry them into the coffin. The Black Car can also fill the driver / passenger compartment with poisonous green gas to suffocate the victim. The previous corpse is simply tossed from the back of the Hearse. Death Aura:The vehicle fairly glows of death energy; anyone who looks at it can instinctively sense its necromantic energies. This death aura also shields vampires who are passengers from the effects of the sun. The vehicle also exudes a sickly smell of death and rotting flesh. Spell Casting: the Hearse is surrounded by dark magical energies and the magic spells appear to be necromancer style in origin. Magical spells are only cast by the car itself. The Hearse can also cast the following spells but is not limited to: Animate and Control Dead Command Ghouls Fire Ball Freezing Blast Cloud Kill Horrific Illusion Toughen Undead Necro-Armor Shockwave

Chris heard the steady roar of a familiar sound; The twin engines of a plane. And it was approaching fast from a long distance away. Unconcerned, Chris continued making his way through the abandoned city. Many of the buildings still stood, dark and silent. In the fading light of the setting sun, Chris gazed down the abandoned street. Unfortunately, the street lights wouldn't be coming on, so he'd be keeping his little Flashlight spell handy. He noticed that the sound of the plane had stopped growing louder, and looking around he didn't see anything. Around him, to his east, were many tall buildings that still stood, and he suspected that whatever had been coming closer was now observing him. But, it wasn't attacking, so he wasn't too threatened. Looking back to his wrist computer, it flickered to incandescent life. Pressing buttons and using the high tech scanner in it, he sighed. A large aircraft was hovering exactly where he had suspected. The airborne craft didn't seem to be on the assault, though there was no telling what it could do as he wasn't familiar with them, or just what weapons it might have had as he couldn't get a direct lock on it to identify it. "Whatever." He said to himself and returned to making headway. An hour later, he'd managed to reach the former University. It stood silently, watching the times pass. Looking around the main entrance, Chris could still hear the plane off in the distance, though he still couldn't see it. "Overweight stalker..." he muttered, commenting on it to himself. He was content to let it be. More than likely, it wasn't a normal craft or it would have approached him and made contact. Again relying on his wristband computer, he brought up a map of the university and then began walking across the desolate campus to the main buildings. The library was off on its own, but was absolutely massive. He came upon the front doors, and tried to budge them. Rust had long since fused them together. Trying to shake them open, little flakes of rust flittered to the ground. "Damn it. I was hoping to avoid this..." Placing his pointer finger on the former crack between the twin metal doors, a brilliant aura appeared around the tip of his finger. Using this light, he began to burn the doors apart, in a sort of reverse wielding job. As he separated the doors, the plane was moving around the library, flying in circles. "Stalker." he said again. "Hope they don't have a crush on me... they are so not my type." Soon, he was finished with his work and tried the doors again. This time, they creaked open, fighting all the way to keep their reserves of knowledge hidden and protected from the world. As he entered, the sound of the plane died away and Chris found himself walking through shelf after shelf of books. History, fiction, non-fiction, science books, geography... Chris was having a good day. There weren't any obvious leaks in the roof, and all the books -although yellowed with age- appeared to be in excellent condition. He brought up his computer again, searching for the back-up power generators that should have been in the building somewhere. A beep and a blueprint of the building popped up on the screen. A flashing red dot signaled where he needed to go. The dark hallways would be so much nicer if he could start up those generators. Even then, it wasn't a guaruntee that the lights would work again, or that they wouldn't blow out once the electricity was flowing again. Either way, he was going to try. The structural integrity of the building wasn't compromised, so he shouldn't have to worry about a potential fire, either. Reaching his goal, he positioned his hands along side one another, almost as if he was praying. A crackle of blue colored electricity shifted around his hands, and he slowly separated them, the electricity growing in intensity. He removed one of his hands from the position, and slowly reached to touch the cold metal of the generator. With the generator suddenly surging with power for the first time in a century, the building suddenly hummed with power. Ancient lights flickered, and grew from a dull shine to a light bright enough to read by. Some lights continued to flicker, while others remained dark. "So much better." Chris remarked. Heading back to the library proper, he rummaged around for anything he might have found a use for. Unfortunately, the geological maps were about the only thing he found a use for. Setting them down one by one on a long wooden table, he lifted his wrist to them. "Scan. Reference. Complete and enhance existing maps." There was a dull vibration as a green scanner bar appeared on the table, and Chris began to sweep over the maps, the computer doing exactly as he had asked. Once finished, he headed over to the fiction section. He found a book series about dragons and magic dating back to before Magic had returned to this world. Still, they looked like a good read. Chis, now finished with his task and feeling quite happy with himself, began to walk back outside. In all, his little excursion had only taken him about half an hour. On exiting the building, he turned around and blew a kiss back into the building. All power slowly dissipated, returning the building to its dark and dormant state to guard over its knowledge. Unfortunately for the library, Chris was probably going to be the only visitor for a long time to come. A sudden blast rocked the ground not ten feet away from him, surprising him. He rolled away and raised his hand to defend himself, his hand alight with a golden flame. It seemed the plane had been waiting for him to come out. "Who goes there?" Chris demanded, ready to attack. However, the plane didn't attack, nor did it make any other motions other than hovering in place. Looking through the windshield, he could see no one at the helm. The flames around his hand died as he lowered it to his side. It didn't appear that the plane was hostile, though perhaps it was just trying to get his attention. He observed it for a few more seconds before speaking again. "You know, if you're wanting to make new friends, shooting at them isn't usually the way to go about it." Crossing his arms, and smiling a little, he looked on at the plane. He wasn't familiar with its type at all, and he wasn't sure what exactly it wanted. If it was trying to be friendly, he'd return the courtesy. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid I don't speak 'plane' so I'm curious as to any other means of communication you might have..." --------------------------------------------------------------- The car had paid little attention the well armed female, though her puking into a nearby trash can was moderately humorous. The shadow didn't seem like it was all that enthralled by the drunk woman, but it was watching as she climbed into her armored pick-up. The figure disappeared in a wisp of smoke, though the evil presence didn't leave. It was still around. The woman cranked her old truck over, and pulled away from the curb. Grave Justice felt the presence growing in intensity. Another engine cranked over, and a rusted out Winnibego pulled out of the alleyway where the figure had been. It was in terrible condition, as rust had completely destroy sections in its lower panels. It sounded horrible, like the thing should have been junked long ago and it was a strange event for the Winnibego to even be capable of moving. It shook violently just rolling along. In the driver's seat was a definitely male figure, with eyes as black as coal and even blacker intentions. This woman had been chosen as the next victim. As the ruined monstrosity of a vehicle rumbled past the invisible squad car, the car began pursuit. Silent, unseen, and contemplating what to do. It had the element of surprise, but the monster in front of it was probably being controlled by its driver and was far from normal. Grave justice noted the sickly green wisps coming from the Winnibego's exhaust. Unfortunately, the windows had all been blacked out so the car couldn't see inside. Stopping at another red light, the Winnibego seemed content to bide its time, and the woman seemed none the wiser as to just what was behind her. Grave Justice was hesitant to begin attacking with the woman around, and it didn't want to put her in danger. The light changed and the woman continued on her way with the monster vehicle behind her as well as the invisible squad car. The woman drove on, until the Winnibego saw its chance to strike. It revved its ruined engine and began pulling forward. It over took the truck surprisingly easily, and then pulled in front of it. The woman honked her horn, visibly angry at the obstruction. Now was the time. Becoming fully visible once more, Grave Justice began to flash its lights and sound the siren. It was ready. The ancient RV gunned the engine, and sounded like it was wrecking itself. But the RV kept going, unwilling to let its unnatural existence end. The Winnibego swerved into the opposite lane and slammed on its brakes. The cop car rammed into the back end, sending metal sheeting, broken glass, and dry rotted wood raining down onto the blacktop. Once the back of the RV was destroyed, the car could see clearly into the vehicle. The entire backside of the vehicle was a refridgeration unit. Large buckets of unused plaster littered the floor, as well as sculpting utensils. Unfortunately, the RV was also piled high with corpses. Men, women, and children. The woman in her truck had dropped back, allowing the squad car to run up along side the abomination. She seemed content for the moment to watch the highway battle.The car's light bar lit up with crackling energy, before the cop car began to blast the RV over and over. Unwilling to concede, the RV rammed the squad car away, sending it into the cornfields. But in seconds it was back on the road and returning a devastating blow. With a loud roar, the car skipped over the ditch and flew up into the air, slamming through the side of the RV and out the other. The killer swerved wildly, nearly losing control. Bodies fell out and flopped on the road, being quickly left behind. But the RV kept its course and managed to stay on the road. After regaining control completely, it began to speed up, the old engine sounding like it couldn't take the stress. The car had to do something to end this fight, but it wasn't going to be easy. The RV began to shimmer with the same sickly green emitted from the exhaust pipe. The ruined hulk began to let loose, sending acidic blobs raining down on the squad car. The paint fizzed and then the metal underneath began to hiss and smoke as it was dissolved. The police car began sending blast after blast of electricity into the RV. On and on the two raged war, destroying portions of one another. The squad car then rammed the RV again, this time aiming for the wheels. A ripping of metal sounded and the police car back off to the other side of the road, its front fender completely ruined. However, the RV was not so fortunate. The wheel bounced down the highway, and the RV let off a shower of white hot metal shavings as the front driver's side hit the pavement. It carreened off the road and into the ditch with a horrific grinding and crunching of metal. The RV was now immobilized, try as it might to escape. Flames flickered under the hood of the squad car as it unleashed a pillar of fire at the demon RV. The smells of diesel fuel and burning corpses drifted on the air as the RV was burnt to a rotting hulk. The gas tank of the RV exploded, sending flames roaring everywhere. In the smoke, a demonic visage appeared, and it screamed in defeat and was dispersed to the winds. The remains of the RV crumbled to nothing but a smouldering wreck and the deed was done. The squad car backed away, though was blocked by the woman in her truck. The squad car rolled to the side of the road and began to regenerate the damage inflicted on it. It would take a day or two to fully repair itself, but for now it was at least capable of being mobile. The squad car sat there, contemplating what to do with the woman who hadn't yet left the scene. It shut itself down, wondering what the woman would do. In a display of friendliness, the car popped the trunk open and the trunk lid swung up with a slight creaking noise. If the woman approached, she would find what appeared to be a normal trunk with a box of Bavarian creme filled donuts sitting inside, as well as some bottles of cola and a nice styrofoam container with a roast beef and cheddar cheese sandwich and some potato chips. It was the least the car could do to be comforting, considering what had just happened.

Chris tapped on the hologram display of his wristband portable computer, not paying much attention around him. He'd come to this abandoned city because he'd heard the University once located here had a vast treasure trove in the form of books in its library. In the chaos of the aftermath of the coming of the rifts almost two centuries ago, libraries had usually been left to decay alone and forgotten. Chris was hoping that the Colorado State University Library would still prove bountiful. A sound came to his ears, like that of a building collapsing. From his vantage point on the abandoned street, he could see a heavy dust cloud drifting from the west and onto the street. Waiting until the dust settled, Chris made his way to the source of the disturbance. The library could wait. After walking along the desolate streets and rotting hulks of buildings for about five minutes, he came to a massive civilian complex. The name on the wall surrounding it named the place the "Smile Time Ice Cream Factory." Looking around, he realized the garage of the facility had finally succumbed to age and neglect. He noticed a rusted out hulk of an ice cream truck sitting beside the building, and in the rubble he could spot others. In fact, the only vehicles he saw were ice cream vans in varying stages of decay. Different makes and models littered the area but they all matched with their fading pink polka dots and giant ice cream cones mounted on the tops of them. Some of the decorations had long since fallen from their mounts and lied shattered on the ground. Then it came to him. There was something else here. Something that was far from human. And whatever it was it wasn't a good entity. Pure, inexplicable evil perferated this entire area. Looking back down to his wrist computer, it flickered on with a map of the area, and some building schematics for the complex. Whatever was housed within these walls needed to be dealt with, although he hadn't anticipated on this. Smiling slightly, he started working his way to the massive offices building, ever cautious lest he be attacked by something. "See the invisible. see the intangible." He muttered to himself and closed his eyes for a second. "May it be so." Opening his eyes, they were changed from the normal hue to bright orange. There was nothing new for him to see. Kicking in the door leading inside, he peered in through the gloom and unsettled dust. The floors were carpeted, but they were heavily mildewed and rotted where leaks had sprung long before. Trudging through the dark hallway, he sighed. "Flashlight." he said, and a small flickering flame appeared before him, illuminating the darkness. Passing multiple rooms filled with wrecked cubicles and decimated furniture, he eventually came to what appeared to be a cafeteria that had the far wall destroyed by an ice cream van ramming through the wall. The damage was recent, judging from the debris. The ice cream truck in the cafeteria had driven through the entire room and smashed through not far from him. It was a rather boxy looking van, with the sides remodeled to serve its products to the local boys and girls in the city. The vehicle was facing away from him, so he couldn't see any real damage caused by the truck ramming through several walls. However, it was in rather good condition, with rust having only just begun to take hold. It was dirty, and speckled with dried red splotches. The tires looked okay, though well worn. The once bright white had yellowed slightly in spots, and the pink polka dots had faded some as well. What concerned him was the red splotches. He knew that color well. It was dried blood. [i]So... a killer ice cream truck. You've got to be kidding me.[/i] Chris thought. As if to answer him, the ice cream van suddenly started up. It sounded as if it had multiple blown gaskets, and that it was on its last days. Fortunately, it was now that Chris had arrived. The killer vehicle slowly rumbled, taking its time to reemerge from the room it had crashed into. The engine revved up as the truck rolled forward. Chris could see now that the front of the truck was covered in dried blood, though undamaged from wrecking through walls. The inside of the truck seemed to glow faintly with an unholy red light. "Come on then you big lug!" Chris shouted, bracing himself to attack. "Come on! Or are you scared of a little human?" The engine of the killer vehicle roared as the ice cream truck came barreling at Chris. His mouth parted in a sinister smile as he launched himself into the air, using the hood of the van to help him raise himself above its lethal charge. [i]Wow... it's so cold to the touch...[/i] he thought to himself. Lashing out with his feet, he took the decoration on top of the truck completely off. It smashed to the ground as he landed and then took off through the hall again, heading back to the front of the complex. Seconds later, Chris could hear the ice cream truck rumbling behind him and quickly catching up to him as it picked up speed. Chris threw himself through an open doorway once the ice cream truck was nearly on top of him, a frigid blast of air helping send him further into the room. The ice cream truck screeched to a halt, blocking the hallway to the outside. It began to reverse, the engine getting louder the closer it came. The room he was in had no other exit, and he wasn't going back into the hallway. "Looks like I'm blasting my way out." he commented to himself. Snapping his fingers, he conjured a small spark which quickly grew into a massive fireball. He launched it at the doorway where the Ice cream truck was trying to push itself through. The fireball blasted through the windshield and exploded inside, lighting it on fire and sending metal shrapnel flying everywhere. Turning around, Chris repeated the same move on the wall and it met much the same fate. Chris leaped through the hole in the wall and took off running for the ruins of the garage. At least he'd be in the open now, and there was more room to fight. Behind him the killer truck blasted through the wall into the open air, swerving once on the ground to aim itself at Chris. It turned its headlights on, and in the setting sun they glowed a furious red. Thick black smoke poured from the broken windows as the fire raged inside it. "Regretting that decision to take me on?" he chided while grinning like a madman. The vehicle responded by charging once more. Chris raised his hand, palm out and fingers splayed. "Lightning!" A massive, blinding bolt of electricity blew forth, hitting the truck. It had tried to swerve, but it hadn't been fast enough. It crackled with electricity, though it definitely wasn't out of the fight yet as it turned once more on Chris. "You know, for a bathtub on wheels, you sure handle shitty." The van revved once more, and then came straight at Chris. He sighed. "I've had about enough of you." Waving his hand and pointing at the van, and massive spikes of earth rose from the ground, at first slowing the truck down and then completely impaling it and raising it into the air. The crunch of metal and the sheering of plastics accompanied the van in its last moments. The wheels spun helplessly as the earthen spikes took it further into the air and wreaked havoc on it slowly destroying the damned thing. Heavy choking black smoke was coming from the grill, and the truck struggled in vain to escape."You're finished. Your days of killing people are over." The accompanying roar from the disabled truck told Chris it was furious, and it was not giving up. "Incinerate the wicked." Chris turned as the flames began to consume the vehicle, its death throes wild and violent. The wheels blew out, sending burning rubber flying in all directions. The already pitch black smoke coming from the grill increased tremendously as the engine began to sputter between roars. The flames burned hotter and hotter, and higher and higher. Eventually, the truck stopped attempting to escape and seemed to all but accept its fate.The engine sputtered once and then died. The headlights lost their red tinge, dimmed to nothing, and then melted, molten plastic and metal oozing from the hulk of a wreck. Soon, even that was consumed until nothing remained of the ice cream truck serial killer. "Now that that's been taken care of, on to that library...No more idle threats today." He paused for a second, realizing what he had said. "Heh heh... I said 'idle'." And with that he giggled some more and continued on his way. ----------------------------------------------- A quiet yet throaty gutteral purr sounded from the ancient squad car as it sat in front of a red light. It was a calm night, and it was rather relieved to find it to be so. The light changed, and the car continued through the city. Here, people had come together again on the Great Plains. It was nice, and somewhat refreshing from the ruins the vehicle usually drove by. In fact, this was rather a mini-vacation for the car before it headed out west once more. It had recently caught wind of sightings of the major enemy. Black Death was on the roads again, and this time it seemed to have picked up a male passenger that hadn't wound up dead yet through multiple sightings over the course of the last two months. A vampire must have made it happy enough to stick around. Or so Grave Justice thought, anyway. But it was going after Black Death once more. This time, the car and whatever ally it had were going to meet with a deadly two for one special as far as Grave Justice was concerned. It visibly trembled slightly thinking of the destruction of the hearse. The car parked outside a local police station, and tuned into the dispatcher in the building. A police car with a working radio wouldn't arouse much suspicion, and the car tended to be overlooked when amongst others of its like. Black Death it seemed, wasn't to be the topic of conversation. Apparently, someone had been kidnapping children and encasing them in plaster. The car, though silent in its parking space, let off a visible spark shower in anger. Preying on children. How cruel. The car turned its engine over and backed out of its parking space. It roared down the road, heading for the nearest park it had seen advertised on city attraction signs. Where there were the hunted would be where one would find the hunter. A rather large park only a couple miles away was a nice change of scenery, though the goings on around the park were much more interesting. Performing arts were happening all around, and it was rather amusing for a time to simply drive around and observe for a time. Grave Justice pulled into a spot near a large playground. Watching the children, the car could feel a sense of disturbing familiarity. Long ago, before the Rifts, it had been on a case similar to this, and the car recalled the imprinted memory as if it were yesterday. The case had no leads, though children were disappearing at an alarming rate. Between twenty and thirty children a day. And so for months, no bodies were discovered until one day a park ranger discovered a mound of bodies belonging to many, many children and a few adult bodies deep in the woods. Hundreds of decomposing bodies. But even though the bodies of all the missing children had been discovered, the disappearances didn't stop. In fact, they increased once the discovery was made public.The case then began taking on a different turn, and one all the more gruesome. Some of the children that had gone missing and hadn't been found at the dump site were found encased in plaster and disguised as statues. Only once the bodies inside had started decomposing and started to smell were they found. In some cases, the statues began to bleed through the plaster. In addition, it seemed now that even the parents were being targeted now. But, the case didn't end there with a capture. Apparently, the company hired to do the sculptures had hired someone in return, and he hadn't provided any information to them. Even the name given was found to be a fake. And so the police were no closer to catching the monster. It was some time later, and after discovering more body piles around the city, that there was another break in the case. Police arrived at a house located just outside the city to search for some screaming neighbors had heard. In the basement was a large walk in freezer, where the bodies of ten people were discovered. Three women and seven children were in the process of being turned into plaster covered corpses. In all, over three hundred people were killed by the owner of the house, and killed himself once discovered to be the killer before the police could capture him and force him to pay for his crimes. This crime before was disturbingly similar to the one now. Even the circumstances. Indeed, more 'statue corpses' had been discovered all over the city. However, the man responsible for those crimes had been dead for centuries, so it was impossible he was responsible for the current crimes.But one thing was for sure. Now that the car knew about it, it couldn't very well leave things as they were. The police were no making no headway on this case by themselves, so it was up to Grave Justice to help them. No one else was. The vehicle sat in the parking lot until well past dark, biding its time before going on the hunt. The old squad car once again started up, and began a patrol of the area. Whoever or whatever was taking the kids had to have some sort of transportation to take them to where ever they were performing whatever nefarious act upon the children. Being how the world had changed much since the Rifts, anything could have been behind the disappearances and statues this time around. Maybe a copycat killer? Or just some whackjob. Or even the supernatural might have been responsible. It was hard telling. A sudden tinge in the air caused the cop car to halt in its tracks. There was something evil lurking within the shadows of the park. Very evil. And it wasn't human. Rolling slowly forward, the car seemed to almost become translucent and then completely disappeared. But a few seconds later, the car had completely silenced itself as well. But it was there, watching. Listening. Soon, the car stopped altogether in the empty parking lot of the park, feeling the evil presence coming closer. And it wasn't disappointed when a dark figure appeared in the gloom. The vintage vehicle had a positively charged feeling of excitement. This would be fun, and justice would be served.

Excellent. I'm hoping to get a few more people, but I'll be starting this by the end of the week. Sign-ups will remain open. EDIT: I feel that it should be made clear as to why a secondary character was requested for future applicants. The plane (which is awesome) is just far too big for some of the adventures that will take place in this story. A smaller character was requested just so the player wouldn't be sitting on the sidelines. Even the ghost car is too big in some cases.

Suits me.

[i]Long she rusted, a memorial to a forgotten war and a forgotten age. The superstructure had been removed long before and only her rusted hull remained. Only one turret remained intact. The old ship sat completely underwater except for a few small areas on the ship which just barely poked out of the water. The battleship Arizona slept. Her hull was completely mangled by the explosion which had destroyed her in 1941 and time had steadily eroded what remained. She had been forgotten and almost abandoned. The white platform which had been erected above her as part of the memorial to the great ship echoed with only the sporadic sounds of human feet. Most people in the latter part of the Twenty-First Century just seemed to want to forget about the past. Maybe that is what doomed them. Stories were told that the ship was haunted and it was true that many had died within her that fateful day so very long ago. The last body had been laid to rest almost a hundred years previously. One day, storm clouds appeared and witch fire came from the sky. The Rifts had come and the world would never be the same. Lightning hit the rusted hulk over and over. The hull was wrapped in blue fire crackling with blinding intensity. Something had woken up. After over a century and a half, the hull wrenched itself from the deep mud. The white platform above the old ship shattered and sunk to the bottom. As the rusted hull slowly pulled itself to the surface, water poured from hundreds of cracks. A loud creaking could be heard as the hull straightened out and the hull became whole for the first time in over a century and a half. Cracks became whole and years of rust seemed to simply fade. Grey paint spread over the ship. Black smoke exhaust came from where once the battleship's funnel sat. The acrid smoke wrapped itself around the deck of the old battleship like a lover. The smoke seemed to take a life of its own and appeared to form familiar cylindrical shapes where the ship's turrets had sat before the Arizona's death. The dark smoke seemed to form the superstructure and stack of the old battleship. If anybody had been observing, they might have remarked at the illusion of the smoke. The smoke slowly darkened until it appears to be solid steel again. The grey paint of the vessel them spread to match it to the rest of the warship. The Arizona was whole again and shone as bright as she had when first launched, two centuries prior. A ghost like figure appeared on the bridge of the old battleship. He was dressed in the uniform of a naval Captain from the time which the old battleship had been lost. The Captain had come back to take command. A second figure appeared next to the captain. This ghost figure was dressed in the uniform of a rear admiral. He paused on the deck as if he was looking for something he dropped. More and more shadowy figures appeared. The music from a band could be heard coming from inside of the ship. Two ghost crew member mopped the deck while the bosun yelled at them. Vibration could be felt from deep within the hull. On the mast, a flag with thirteen stripes in red and white with a dark blue rectangle with forty eight stars. The USS Arizona was alive once again and plying the seas. ---------------------- For decades, they have lain here, slowly rotting away....They come to this place in the hot dry desert, still shiny and straight of line, and gleaming with purpose, and are placed in straight regimental lines as if any minute they will be called upon to take flight again....but the call to action never comes. No ground crew comes to service them, no flight crews come to board them. Only the passing of time and a slow degeneration marks their final days. Paint scratches in the dusty winds, fades, pales, and wears away. Canopy glass and perspex frosts, spiders, and purples with sun and wind. Oil drips free, thick, dirty, and contaminated with age. Once straight angles soften and curve with the burden of gravity... Rubber becomes brittle and bursts with age. Proud insignia fade and rub away to barely legible blurs. Debris accumulates between the rows of sharp shapes, more often than not fallen from the aircraft themselves, or pushed in from less fortunate neighbors that have finally been cut apart for scrap. Aside from the occasional visit of the junk men, they are alone and forgotten in this place, their final resting place... Then, after decades, the world explodes... It is hardly felt, at first, in this all-but-forgotten, lonely place....Over several days and nights, the horizon seems to glow with lurid colors...the sky becomes overcast and alternately becomes blacker than midnight, or is streaked with lines of burning unearthly hue...White ash, like snow, falls suddenly, in bursts, threatening to bury the landscape, but is then blown away by sudden winds, bordering on hurricane velocity....In the distant hills, monstrous shapes can be seen, but there is no sign if they are real or shadows.... Then, one night, it happens.... In a place that life has deserted, something stirs. Many somethings stir. With a symphony of creaking and groaning, ancient metal strains and fights loose of its earthly entanglement. Rust falls in a red shower like dried blood from flowing metal. With hissing and popping, broken wing spars and frames straighten out, rejoin, and knit together. Ancient canopy tracks screech as they fight rust and embedded grime to slide shut. Piles of brittle rubber scraps writhe like worms, flow like water, and reform into tires, gaskets, and weather stripping, and then crawling back into their proper place on the ancient planes. Old dials and instruments quake in their housings, lighting up with eldritch light or spinning like tops, compasses gone mad. Old position lights flicker to incandescent life, adding red and yellow lighting to the scene. A sputter and a series of gunshot bangs punctuate the air as one of the old piston engines cranks to unearthly life. Screeching at first as the ancient gears scrape corrosion and dried lubricant away in clouds of greasy smoke, the propellers turn painfully slowly, but accelerating and gradually working up into a blur. With precedent set, the process is repeated on the other intact engines, then on the other reforming shapes in the gloom. A throatier roar accompanies the reawakening of ancient jet engines, adding their voices to the chorus. Like a clutch of monstrous metal hatchlings trying their wings for the first time, the massive shapes move cautiously, but with growing self-assurance towards open ground from their debris-strewn metal nest. An old rusted chainlink fence offers no obstacle, pushed aside by the behemoths, or perhaps pulled aside by the equally old forklift that stutters to life. Moving out into the open desert and the ribbon of cracked pavement that was the runway, the aircraft seem to instinctively fall out into an orderly flight line, then, with almost practiced precision, snap to a semblance of attention. One of their number smartly rolls out of the formation and takes point position on the runway stretching into the distance. Engines rev to maximum, the first moves forward, moving faster with every passing moment, streaking across the desert, straining for the sky... Then, impossibly, it happens...Straining and clawing, the vast metal shape lifts into the air, fighting for every inch of lift....almost faltering on the edge of success...then, suddenly, like a man sliding back into a familiar, comfortable suit of clothes, the aircraft FLIES......Steadily, gaining altitude, without tremor, pause, or hesitation....Landing gear smoothly roll up into their bays, flaps adjust for wind and course. One by one, behind it, the remaining aircraft roll into position, taking their places for takeoff....Within minutes, the first ascension is repeated, until all are airborne. A brief orbit of their ancient resting place, and the resurrected warbirds wheel about and disappear into the blue-crossed night sky.... ----------------- The tip of the barrel of an ancient tank stuck in the deep swamp poked from the muck and grime. Many areas of Russia are covered with vast swamps. Many tanks had been lost in the vast lands of the Soviet controlled territories. Some lost during wars, others used as targets, while yet others were simply left to rust away. Likely it had sunk into the mud slowly but somehow the barrel had broken the surface of the swamp. No one knew it was there and even if they had, it is likely that nobody would have cared. The New Soviet government payed little attention to the relics of the past. Nobody had likely seen the ancient tank since it had sunk into the mud. The sky darkened and lightning flashed across the sky. Not a thunderstorm but something more. Intense beyond anything ever seen. Grey, blue, and red lit up the sky. The Apocalypse had come with magic returning to the world. Several multicolored lightning bolts appeared to hit the ground around the old wreck. At first it seemed to be an illusion but it appeared as if the barrel was getting longer. Something had awoken. Then it became obvious that the barrel was slowly rising from the earth with mud dripping from the barrel. The tank was pulling itself free after eons of being buried and forgotten. The sound of metal grinding could be heard under the ground. The gunning of a powerful diesel suddenly rocked the earth. The black mud began to split apart as the top of a tank emerged. Rust had taken anything which might have identified the tank but it was ancient, perhaps dating from the Great Patriotic War. Still, it was in surprisingly good shape. Great clouds of black smoke rose from the tank and the noises of a poorly maintained engine sounded as it rolled off. -------------------------[/i] Magic has returned to the world with the coming of the Rifts in the early part of the 22nd century, along with many relics of the past coming to life and roaring away of their own power. Not all vehicles come to life in this manner, though far more than a few have. These ghost vehicles vary in alignment, some are heroic and good while some are inexplicably evil. Vampires, were-wolves, fey folk, and all manner of supernatural creatures have come forth into the world since the apocalypse. Horrific monsters lurk within the forests, ruins, and oceans while humanity struggles to try to rebuild itself. Aliens have descended upon the planet, and the legendary Atlantis has risen from its watery grave. Earth has changed with the coming of the Rifts. Millions, if not billions perished in the apocalypse. Ley lines, shimmering, glittering energy in all the colors of the rainbow, traverse the planet like a net, churning forth the mystical energies of legend and folklore. Some say these ley lines were always there, though none have any explanation as to why they suddenly became visible with the end of the world. All coastal regions of the world were flooded as the oceans rose, and massive earthquakes destroyed many of the world's largest cities, and so they have remained as massive piles of rubble. New York has obtained several guardians. Perhaps, most famously, is the USS museum ship Intrepid having pulled itself free of its moorings in New York Harbor and now guards the ruined city in an eternal vigil. Its host of museum aircraft have also taken to the skies to aid in this endeavor. But, the Intrepid is not alone in its mission. Below the waters of the harbor lies its museum companion, the USS Growler submarine. If the Intrepid or its fleet of ghostly planes are not enough to sink or chase off interlopers, the Growler is all the more reason to flee, if it does not first destroy intruders unlucky enough to stray into the harbor. Lady Liberty herself is also said to rise from the waters outside the harbor and welcome newcomers, while burning away with her torch those unworthy to reach the once proud nation of the United States. Unlike Lady Liberty, however, the Intrepid and the Growler seem irrevocably evil in nature. What they are guarding remains a mystery, as like much of the world New York lies in ruins, the massive skyscrapers having either collapsed or stand haphazardly, as if they will soon join the massive piles of debris. Many cities have obtained such ghostly guardians, but the dangers of the world extend far beyond the ocean's grasp. The Yugoloth and the Slepid war with the world, their alien heritage being one of destruction and death upon all others. This is where you come in, my brave adventurers. Some are powerful magic users, while others are fierce warriors without peer. Guns, swords, might and magic. All are at your disposal to survive in the changed world. Humans have congregated all over the world into vast settlements, though there are far fewer humans still than there once was. Unfortunately, not all races can live in peace, and some live only to cause wonton destruction or enslave others. Earth is as turbulent if not more so than it was in the 21st century. You can be a number of creatures, feel free to make your own race if you so wish, but no matter your race the enemies of your neibour are yours as well. Here is the sign up sheet, though it will differ slightly depending on what kind of character you create. You are also more than welcome to make multiple characters. Name: Age: Sex: (if you decide to play as a haunted vehicle, please state if you are of feminine or masculine persuasion.) Race: (what is your species?) Species Characteristics: (If creating one, what does your species look like? What heights and weights to they generally reach? What kinds of innate abilities does your species have? Skin color? Hair color?) Vehicle Type: (If you are not a race but come kind of craft, state your make and model here) Appearance: (what do you look like? If you're a vehicle, then what condition are you in? Pictures or a descriptive paragraph are acceptable) Crew: (how many people can you fit comfortably and when cramped?) Speed: (please state your on road top speed and off road top speed. Keep in mind not all cars were designed for off road) Cargo Capacity:(how much carrying capacity do you have?) (naturally, if you are a race, some of the above need not be in your sign-up.) Personality: (self-explanitory) Powers/Abilities/Skills: (Most ghost vehicles have the ability to cast magical effects, and everyone has an array of skills of some sort) History: (What is known of your past? Why do you do what you do?) Here is my own to set the example: Name: Christopher Reynolds Age: 26 Sex: male Race: Human Appearance: Christopher is 5'9" and weighs 160 lbs. He has red hair, hazel eyes, and is usually seen wearing a black trench coat, tank top, and goggles with a pair of baggy cloth pants with many pockets. On his hands are a pair of black leather gloves. Personality: Bubbly, perky, cheerful and rather the dashing young hero. He's usually the first to fire a shot if attacked, and has no qualms about killing darker entities. He's obsessed with hunting down those who destroyed his home. Powers/abilities/skills: Chris is a talented magician, and one of the more powerful in the world. His spell casting capability dwarfs most others. However, he's also a skilled gunner and very acrobatic. History: When he was a young child, he was discovered to have the capability to become a powerful mage, and so he was sent off to learn the ways of magic and how to control his powers. While he was at the school, his home city was attacked by an unknown force, reducing it to nothing but rubble and dead bodies. Since leaving the school, he has traveled the world over, killing, destroying, and making sure that there is no where to hide from him if one is evil and inclined to acts of bloodshed. A secondary character: Name: Grave Justice Age: Model Year 1967 Gender: Seems to be of a female mindset and 'voice' Classification: Ghost Car Appearance: [img]http://i146.photobucket.com/albums/r248/thebankerstoy/Cool%20pictures%20of%20Mopar%20cars%20and%20trucks/1967PlymouthFuryPolicecar1-white-driversfrontsideview.jpg[/img] Grave Justice is a 1967 Plymouth Fury police vehicle with a black and white paint scheme that by all appearances seems to have fared unnaturally well against the effects of time, though is not pristine by any means. The paint and police symbols on the sides of the car are badly faded and have been scratched up something fierce, along with many dents all over the vehicle. The aged license plates on the vehicle are dented so badly and are so devoid of paint they are completely unreadable. The name of the town or city which the police car originally served is mostly illegible but the word "NEW" can be barely read on the driver's side door. The engine of the automobile still has a powerful roar, like it's been well maintained and modified far beyond a stock engine. While the tires show some definite wear, they seem to be in fairly decent condition. The headlights are intact but there is some cracking in the light bars. Still, they seem to work fine when flashing and the siren can still be heard clearly. Inside the car, the vinyl seats have a few rips and the dividing plexiglass has become opaque as well as having many deep scratches. The equipment inside is minimal with a simple radio being the only communication equipment. There is a shotgun rack beside the driver's seat. In the trunk is a full compliment of roadside supplies, and food stuffs have been known to appear in the trunk as well. On the extremely rare occasion, a stunningly beautiful woman with her black hair pulled into a bun and wearing a police uniform can be seen sitting in the car. [b]Speed:[/b] Top speed on roads of 180 mph (290 kph) with a normal cruise speed of 60 mph (96.6 kph.) The car is not really designed for off road travel, top speed is 40 mph (64 kph) [u]Cargo Capacity:[/u] Trunk is magically larger, around 20 cubic feet (0.6 cubic meters) of volume. In addition to the trunk, the vehicle has additional storage ability in the rear passenger seats and side passenger seat. Personality: Some ghost cars prefer to have humans behind the wheel while others seem to be completely independent. Grave Justice appears to be somewhere between the two extremes. The car seems to be capable of following its own course but will take on passengers from time to time. The car is a cross between being unprincipled and scrupulous, sometimes being willing to bend the letter of the law to serve the spirit of the law. There are several stories about lost kids being picked up by the police car and taken safely home. They seem to always have a feeling of having been lectured about what they did but otherwise unharmed. It will even join the cause of its passengers at times. There are stories about the car joining forces with sheriffs and fellow law enforcement, along with people who actively seek justice for some heinous crime. Still, the car seems to have never taken any permanent partners. When it finishes a job, it just seems to leave to cruise the highways and cities far beyond the horizon. There are some really interesting tales about the police vehicle managing to trick criminals into getting into the back and them transporting them to the nearest jail. Like the lost kids, the criminals were severely chastised by the car while riding to the jail. Unless someone murders another or is attempting to kill someone, the car has a reluctance to kill another itself. In those cases, the car seems willing to kill with no hesitation, acting as judge, jury, and executioner. The car also seems to be able to feel creatures of supernatural evil and shows them no mercy either, relentless hunting them down once it has caught wind of them. Any passengers will be asked to leave the car for their own protection. Grave Justice appears to be utterly fearless. It is one of the few "ghost" cars willing to chase after the ghost hearse "Black Death" and there appears to be a strong hatred between them. Grave Justice appears to have something of a sense of humor as well. Weapons/Abilities: While the police car appears to carry a lot of wear from over the years, it is extremely tough and can take the damage of multiple missile hits, something it could never have done when it first rolled off the assembly line. It was once attacked by a Coalition squad and had exactly that happen to it. Much of the body was destroyed in the skirmish but the car was able to escape. When it was next seen again, it appeared like it had prior to having been devastated by the attack although definitely had not restored itself to perfect condition. Various magical powers have been attributed to the automobile including the ability to fire lightning from the light bar and streams of fire from the grill and tail pipe. Other powers appear to be able to throw shock waves outwards. A trick to get criminals into the back area is to inflict horribly intense sensations of wracking pain on them and then bump them into the back of the ancient squad car. The car also seems to be able to create magic nets to immobilize criminals Other abilities have been attributed to the car including the car having used telekinesis to pull the weapons from the hands of the criminals who found themselves in the back seat. It is also known that the automobile has a limited ability to communicate telepathically with individuals inside the car but not outside. A woman's voice has also been heard coming from the radio. Usually, the car says very little but likes to chastise those who do wrong. The person will rarely remember the exact words after being lectured but will remember the basic theme and bits and pieces. When the car had to escape from the Coalition, it appeared to just vanish into thin air. The vehicle, while once powered by an internal combustion engine, now has an inexhaustible propulsion force stemming from the supernatural meaning it no longer has need of fuel, though can be heard roaring happily down the highways. Passengers of the automobile find their wounds heal extraordinarily fast. The vehicle also displays the ability to spawn foodstuffs in the trunk, perhaps most ironically spawning Bavarian creme filled donuts much of the time along with other foods. The car has also displayed the abilities to become completely invisible (along with its passengers) and achieve a perfectly silent running state, even when running full out.The police car may have other abilities which no-one has yet witnessed. It is suspected that the car can fly for short distances. History: No one knows where the vintage squad car came from, though it has been seen all across the highways and cities of the United States. The word 'New' on the driver's side door has led people to speculate that the car originally served New York City, but no one really knows for sure. The ongoing battle between Grave Justice and the black car identified as a rusted out 1959 Cadillac hearse "Black Death" has gone on for countless years, the two having been seen trading paint, flinging fire and lightning at one another, and trying to run the other off the road while racing along at breakneck speeds. The police car has managed to chase down and almost destroy the hearse on several occasions but the malign hearse has managed to escape every time. Another ghost car, a show stopping cherry red 1978 Corvette Stingray convertible and known as the Red Racer, seem to have developed a rather friendly rivalry with the police car, the two having been seen in tandem trying to destroy Black Death or racing one another down remote stretches of highway. Grave Justice's history with the Coalition is one of incredible violence, as the Coalition always tries to destroy the car on sight. Spanning back decades, the scuffles have nearly always left the Coalition with far fewer members, and more than a few times Grave Justice has been dealt devastating blows. Unfortunately for the Coalition, the car always returns to thwart their illegal activities once more and has regenerated all damage done to it. What else is known is that the automobile also will not accept the addition of modern components. Said components will fail within a few days and will not work at all until removed from the vehicle altogether. Over time, far too many car washes have seen the vehicle coming in, splattered with a dried dark reddish-brown substance on the bumpers and various other areas of the car. Money was transfered, though any camera data from that night was hopelessly scrambled, and no one could remember who exactly was driving it, other than a police officer.

If money was not an issue, what vehicle would you cream your panties over owning? Personally, I'd have a 1955 Futura (The original Batmobile was modeled from this vehicle) or a 1980 Camaro.

Wow... I've never been through anything like that. It must have been scary more often than you would have liked. Or anyone would have for that matter. My next story involves my new home, the Champaign/Urbana area in Illinois. The Urbana High School is haunted supposedly. I'm not a high school student, so I can't get inside the building without being looked at like a perv or some such nonsense, and I very much would like to avoid jail time. From what I hear the top (fourth) floor is cordoned off from the rest of the school because of the weird happenings. A piano still on the floor is said to play itself, and usually it's a recognizable 'Moonlight Sonata'. Also, the paint in the halls of that floor is said to peel off within a week of being painted. My personal experience with the school is casual. The bell tower that used to house a bell had a weird floating blueish white light bobbing around it, and I know that the tower was sealed off from not just the fourth floor but the rest of the school as well.