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Thomas rushed past the weapon merchants and stimulant dealers on the street. He knew he was late and new the old mad was going to give him a beating for it. He already was past his 4th sick day for the year, and it was all spent on looking after his dumb brother, Percy.

As he brushed past a man walking his dog he slipped into the ally way shortcut, but came to a sudden halt. There they were. Clad in black blacker than night, with masks shinning like the moon. It was rare to see anyone from the organization in town. It was even rarer to see five of them. But as quickly as he saw them, they vanished into the black alleys of the town. Thomas wanted to follow, but he had a job. And as bad as it was, it was better than laying on the streets getting petty from strangers.

And so, off Thomas went to Terminus Tavern.

Thomas just stared at him, and elft to the damage at the wall near Sunimert Tavern. He held on tight to his pistol as he neared the brawlers, Donovan was screaming his head off and cusing the old man. If he screamed any louder he could float with all that hot air.

"Alright," Thomas announced as he readied his Pistol at the brawlers, "Let's move out fellas, or there's going to be an awful mess." The men, older than 30, drunk and in a tizzy, became silent and obedient, and just mumbled and left back for the Tavern, where the preformer's were already starting the Mercy Day Parade anthem.

He put his pistol back and looked at the damage, as Donovan stormed back to his bar, still ranting. It was broken alright. The 5th time this month. The old man was right, Donovan didn't know what he was thinking putting a place near here. But that's what you get when you don't listen to others. The rest of the place was a barren desert of wobly chairs and broken tables. The only stable place was the bar, where Donovan was serving his only customer, a man in a black had and cape. And Thomas could see a hint of silver on his face...

He could hear loud shouts over at the Tavern, and he knew another fight was starting. Hopefuly it wasn't the Crimson Regiment again. Thomas ran off to the Tavern, leaving the mysterious Organization Agent alone in a bar and back to his conversation with Donovan.

It had been a long night at the Tavern. Not exactly eventful, but long. There were a few hustles, but they weren't as awful as last night's was. Thomas swept up the floors and stacked the chairs while the old man lounged on the stage swiging a bottle of Green Fairy Aleand grinning at Tom's labor. Thomas knew he had it coming. And honestly, working at the Tavern was much more eventful than his last night home.

Percy had kept him up all night long, asking for story after story until he couldn't spin anymore. Ma and Da had to leave to take care of Jenna, who was getting ill, and the baby will be coming soon, so they had to leave. He honestly couldn't stand home anymore. His parents kept making him watch after his brother on his days off and kept pestering him about his pistol. "When I was your age, we didn't need weapons!" his father yelled at him every time he was reloading or mending it. But it wasn't the times his father knew. He had a tailor shop, and Thomas worked at a bar. No one would dare bring a gun to a store unless for robbery, but you would be dead if you didn't have a gun or a knife out on the streets. Even his mother was disgusted at him, for turnign out into such a failure. Sure, he could have gone to the academy and become a soldier, or taken up apprenticeship with his father. But that isn't what he wanted, and his parents don't know him very well.

He stacked the last of the chairs and sweeped the last tables, and breathed a sigh of releif. His eyes were heavy and his legs ached, and all he wanted was to sleep. As the clock struck 12, closing time, after the small band of birds came chirping out with their mechanical voices and makeshift wings, Thomas turned to the owner and said "Well, the days done. G' Night old man." And turned to the door.

Forgive me, but I just want to post a note for the thread.

The 5 Organization characters aren't owned by myself or any one player. I would like to take this opportunity and establish the kind of role they play. These are toy- characters, meaning that they can be used by anyone at any time and any place in the story. As of now, there are 5 agents, so feel free to name a few, but not all of them, at least 2 per person would do. But just like regular toys, you need to share these characters with everyone, so don't get greedy.

Thomas knew that The old man and the Crimson Captian had a thing between them, and as he ran out the door with faithful Ol' Bess, Tom stayed behind and dashed to the kitchen. A few weeks ago, out of percaution, Tom and the boss bought a little secret in the market. It was a powerful machine gun that could unload 20 rounds a second, and if it was the Crimson Captian, he was going to need all those 20 rounds per second. He rushed into the kitchen, still hot with the water used to clean the dishes, and climbed up to the 3rd cabinet, and opened it. Past the spices, there was a small switch. Tom flicked it and a secret compartment opened at the top of the sink. Tom picked up the machine gun and turned off the lights in the tavern. If anything funny happened, he wouldn't heasitate.

Tom peaked through the door as he crouched behind the bar. there was boss and in front of him was the Crimson Captian, with his Red gun in one hand and his other two mechanical arms resting on the hilt of his blade and dagger. Tom waited with baited breath to see who would maek the first move.

OOC:
Crimson Regiment is violent...Organization isn't - they both stay. Next point is the OOC posts...just say OOC when you need to dip Out Of Character (Or just PM me with tidbits here and there, 'k?)