Dramatically, a dark caped figure bursts through the front door and lands lightly in the lobby, with two unconcious thugs under his arms. He takes a look around, drops them, and stands up slowly, picking up his grappling gun which had fallen. He had meant to land safely on a lower rooftop that he had thought was a simple apartment, but had somehow ( Read more... )

There is a Max sitting in the bar of the hotel, nursing a glass of beer and looking lonely. It's been a few weeks since she's arrived at the bar and she hasn't done much, mainly because she's not sure what she should be doing, or what she can do. It would probably help if she had somebody to talk to - Logan or Original Cindy, maybe. But she seems ( Read more... )

Trudging along with his jacket slung over his shoulder, head lightly bowed while taking the occasional drag off of a cigarette- otherwise the man wasn't paying any heed to the surrounding world, or so it seemed. In all actuality he was quite alert and always equipped with a switchblade tucked away in his boot aside from the handgun that was tucked ( Read more... )

*Enter a man in a lab coat, looking mildly perplexed. He has no idea where he is, or how he got here, but at least it doesn't look like the worst place to be lost. Oceanfront hotel, huh? Then this isn't Princeton. That could be a problem ( Read more... )

*Enter a fairly grizzled, aging pirate. He's currently tipping his flask upside down and mournfully watching sand fall out of it --then he notices he's not aboard ship, and looks around, slightly confused*

...Have ye got any rum?

Typist: Joshamee Gibbs from PotC! --Yes, I'm a dork and love him a lot. ^_^

Okay... so... first thing's first. Hi. My name's Shawn Spencer. I'm a psychic.

*pause*

You don't believe me? . . . Okay, fine, so I'm not really a psychic. The cops just think I am. Hey, it was either: 'get arrested' or 'tell them you're a psychic'. Which one would you pick? I mean, come on. So why do they think I'm a psychic? Well, I'm glad you ( Read more... )