Reunions aren't so great sometimes... For Gabrielonewingbloody
(current time: twelve years have passed. It is modern day Los Angeles(MacArthur Park Distric) ).
Ten long years had passed since the incident at the monastery and he hadn't looked back since. Upon being advised that maybe God was telling him to stay open in the world and not secluded, Thomas was bitter at first. He'd been pulled through the wringer by the servants of Heaven and Hell and he was tired. Maybe they were right, he thought as he sat quietly in a booth at the local coffee shop. He'd have lit up a smoke, but one, he quit five years ago and two, the smoking ban in public places.
Thomas was about as happy as he was ever going to get. Life was on an even keel again. Ten more years and he'd be able to retire and maybe live that nice quiet life he had always wanted. It seemed so hard to do, outside of the monastery walls, which he still sometimes longed for. But yeah, they were right. Out here, he could do the most good. And it had been a good ten years , back on the force, doing the detective work that wasn't so bad, save for the blood and guts. Then again, watching an Archangel's heart get ripped out by Lucifer, the burned remains of one angel, the hit and run aftermath of another, and facing down the Devil, not much turned Thomas' stomach anymore.
"Everybody just stay right where you are! This is a stickup!"
Just wonderful, and it was his day off, too.
Thomas, along with the others, did as they were directed. There were no directions were given on what to do with his hands and Thomas took that as a sign that the man was sloppy. The man didn't want money, he needed money and that always made for a sloppy robber. The jails were full of'em.
He could hear the cash register opening and while the distraction of that was going on, he coughed discretely.
"What? You trying to be a hero or somethin' ? Pipe down or I'll make you my number one hostage. I always wanted one of those."
After waving the gun near Thomas' face, there was yet another mistake made in Thomas' favor. It wasn't even a real gun.
"I'm afraid where you're going, needing a hostage will be the least of your worries."
"Oh, is that right? Ah, we got a tough guy here. All right, listen up everybody. Empty everything ya got onto your tabl..."
The man never got to finish his sentence. As soon as he looked to the other patrons, Thomas had him by the throat. Fifteen years ago and he might have just shot him on principle, in the kneecap, as a lesson. But his conscience wouldn't let him. The gun was a fake even if the intentions were true. His free hand managed to take control of the loosened grip on the pseudo weapon and soon, the man's face was being bashed repeatedly onto the counter. Something snapped. Just a little part of Thomas wanted to mangle this man beyond repair for his desperate act. He stopped only after he heard sirens.
After being congratulated on what a fine job he did, even if he was a homicide detective and all; after the pats on the back at the station, Thomas headed home. He’d nurse his bruised knuckles there.
Walking from the driveway to the front entrance, Thomas would do what he always did upon entering. He would make time to pray and deal with confession at church in the morning. Quickly, he unlocked the door and stepped inside of his two-bedroom home, whose mortgage would take another twenty years to pay for.
(OOC---Like Thomas could say no to this. :D .
For Player Knowledge Only: this is a different Thomas than the ones seen so far.)
Ten long years had passed since the incident at the monastery and he hadn't looked back since. Upon being advised that maybe God was telling him to stay open in the world and not secluded, Thomas was bitter at first. He'd been pulled through the wringer by the servants of Heaven and Hell and he was tired. Maybe they were right, he thought as he sat quietly in a booth at the local coffee shop. He'd have lit up a smoke, but one, he quit five years ago and two, the smoking ban in public places.
Thomas was about as happy as he was ever going to get. Life was on an even keel again. Ten more years and he'd be able to retire and maybe live that nice quiet life he had always wanted. It seemed so hard to do, outside of the monastery walls, which he still sometimes longed for. But yeah, they were right. Out here, he could do the most good. And it had been a good ten years , back on the force, doing the detective work that wasn't so bad, save for the blood and guts. Then again, watching an Archangel's heart get ripped out by Lucifer, the burned remains of one angel, the hit and run aftermath of another, and facing down the Devil, not much turned Thomas' stomach anymore.
"Everybody just stay right where you are! This is a stickup!"
Just wonderful, and it was his day off, too.
Thomas, along with the others, did as they were directed. There were no directions were given on what to do with his hands and Thomas took that as a sign that the man was sloppy. The man didn't want money, he needed money and that always made for a sloppy robber. The jails were full of'em.
He could hear the cash register opening and while the distraction of that was going on, he coughed discretely.
"What? You trying to be a hero or somethin' ? Pipe down or I'll make you my number one hostage. I always wanted one of those."
After waving the gun near Thomas' face, there was yet another mistake made in Thomas' favor. It wasn't even a real gun.
"I'm afraid where you're going, needing a hostage will be the least of your worries."
"Oh, is that right? Ah, we got a tough guy here. All right, listen up everybody. Empty everything ya got onto your tabl..."
The man never got to finish his sentence. As soon as he looked to the other patrons, Thomas had him by the throat. Fifteen years ago and he might have just shot him on principle, in the kneecap, as a lesson. But his conscience wouldn't let him. The gun was a fake even if the intentions were true. His free hand managed to take control of the loosened grip on the pseudo weapon and soon, the man's face was being bashed repeatedly onto the counter. Something snapped. Just a little part of Thomas wanted to mangle this man beyond repair for his desperate act. He stopped only after he heard sirens.
After being congratulated on what a fine job he did, even if he was a homicide detective and all; after the pats on the back at the station, Thomas headed home. He’d nurse his bruised knuckles there.
Walking from the driveway to the front entrance, Thomas would do what he always did upon entering. He would make time to pray and deal with confession at church in the morning. Quickly, he unlocked the door and stepped inside of his two-bedroom home, whose mortgage would take another twenty years to pay for.
(OOC---Like Thomas could say no to this. :D .
For Player Knowledge Only: this is a different Thomas than the ones seen so far.)