Hallo, Gast!
Willkommen in Manchester! Zutritt erst ab 18 Jahren, weil unsre Hooligans finden, dass CGI Blut nur auf volljährigen Gesichtern hübsch aussieht. Und mit diesen Anarchos legst du dich besser nicht an, alles, was die tun, ist vollkommen willkürlich, Chaos pur. Die haben sogar unseren Plot verloren. Jetzt sind wir nur noch ein schnödes Real-Life RPG ohne höhere Bestimmung und eventuelle Erleuchtungserfahrungen. Voll langweilig. Und was auch total widerlich ist: diese familiäre Atmosphäre. Was nützt einem die absolute Freiheit im Inplay, wenns außerhalb davon zugeht, wie in nem Pfadfinderferienlager? Hier ist man tatsächlich noch der Meinung Spaß haben zu können, ohne sich gegenseitig auf den Keks zu gehen. Naive Baumkuschler.

If Karma doesn't hit you, I fucking will. Season 5 AU
Benutzer, die gerade dieses Thema anschauen: 1 Gast/Gäste

If Karma doesn't hit you, I fucking will
An anonymous benefactor. Just how likely was it that some random mysterious person who, by the way, had millions of bucks to spare, had cast an eye on him, him of all people, and decided, without any ulterior motives whatsoever, to finance a groundbreaking surgery like that and give him a shiny new prosthetic hand? Not very, he’d decided, and ever since he’d been wondering who this generous stranger might’ve been. For a while, he’d suspected Michael. Simply because that was the only, at least relatively, logical conclusion to make. After all, Michael was the only one that could’ve expected to profit from supporting him and he just seemed the type with connections like that.

However, the letter he’d received convinced him otherwise. If it really was Michael, he could’ve just as well walked up to him and told him instead of arranging an oh so mysterious meeting out of the blue. Usually, Theodore could easily rely on his gut instincts. He just had a good nose for these kinds of things, but right now he couldn’t tell where this was going. A trap, maybe. Too bad he was way too curious to just let it go.

So he didn’t. Instead, he followed the instructions in said letter and eventually found himself in a somewhat gloomy hallway, waiting for his appointment as if he’d just entered the anteroom of his dentist. Not that he had one. Plus, a dentist probably wouldn’t’ve hired bulky goons like the ones that ungently shoved him into their boss’s office. He could practically smell that rat and he knew he should’ve backed off before it was too late but, frankly, by the time he realised that, it was already too late.

Before he knew it, he heard the door being locked behind his back, causing an uneasy feeling to creep up on him. He liked having an escape plan, if all else failed, so he couldn’t help but immediately scan the room for potential getaway routes and/or weapons. He didn’t get very far, though, as the swivel armchair right behind the large mahogany desk caught his attention. The man sitting in it had turned his back towards him and slowly turned around to face him. Wow, the man sure knew how to pull off an overly dramatic entrance.

Even though Theodore had planned on giving him an underwhelmed look, his face fell the second he saw the stranger, who in fact wasn’t so strange to him at all.

John Abruzzi. John. Abruzzi.

Honestly, at this point Theodore had been convinced there was barely anything left that could take him by surprise but seeing someone he’d believed dead for over seven years did come as quite a shock to him.

Doch je tiefer die Nacht
desto besser die Idee
Manchmal frag ich mich ja schon, was machst du wohl grade so. Also nicht das mich das irgendwie beschäftigt, ich bin mittlerweile voll gefestigt. Ob ich die Tage zähle seit du weg bist? Klar, als hätte ich 412 Tage nichts besseres zu tun.
Ich gebe meinem Ego die spezielle Kur.
If Karma doesn't hit you, I fucking will
If someone had told him a few years ago that in the future he will pay a little fortune for a rather futuristic prosthetic hand and on top of that he will pay it for someone like Theodore Bagwell, he would have laughed and proposed to get his head checked. Now, on the other hand, John was probably the one who should pay a visit to a nearby shrink.

He told himself he had his reasons, valid reasons, for spending a high amount of money on him. He did but sometimes there was the slightest hint of doubt crawling up his spine and rooting in his head. However, there was no turning back now and thus he found himself on a chair in his office, waiting for his guest to arrive. On top of that, he had already considered every other option for his little problem and well, Theodore might be his last chance, although he would never admit that.

When he sent Theodore the letter, he didn’t want to reveal himself instantly. John wanted to see his face and wanted to feel this satisfaction when he’d see him for the first time. He was allegedly a dead man – except he was still very much breathing the same air as the living.

He heard the door opening, heard the footsteps and he couldn’t stop this pleasant feeling of rising anticipation running through him with every moment that passed. After the door was locked he slowly turned around and there was a grin on his face, as he eyed the man standing in front of the table and the look on his face.

“Theodore Bagwell,” he greeted the man like an old friend, even though he was anything but a friend. It’s been over seven years since he last saw him and one could see the change. Well, maybe the change wasn’t exactly apparent because of age but because of proper clothing and clean look. However, he could have cared less about his looks. He didn’t need them as much as he needed the man himself.

His eyes slid lower to the robotic hand and it did look as expensive as it had been. If it weren’t Theodore standing in front of him he might have even thought about calling it impressive. “Well, it seems to suit you. How does it feel?” He wasn’t particularly curious but he didn’t want to reveal everything in a single moment. He sure deserved to stall it a little while longer to enjoy this look on his face.

[Bild: scott-sig-04.png]
Danke, danke, danke, Laura! T_T 38

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