Anger. The realization that he could do as he wished. He was dead. Confusion. The knowledge that he was chained. He was free. All these contradictions swirled in his mind. Terrence frowned and threw the nearest object at the wall in frustration. The crash was rather loud and he checked to see what he had thrown. A lamp. Great. Might as well leave for a while, before someone came to investigate. He opened his window and jumped out, landing on the ground with a light thump. The male then jogged over to a bit of dry brush near by and located the camouflaged tarp he had laid not long ago, yanking it off his big, black jeep. It was time for some fun. He was already dead so it's not like he could die again.

The engine of Terrence's jeep revved up loudly as he turned the key in the ignition, slammed the gas pedal, and swerved out onto the dusty ground and then pavement, tires squealing wildly as he passed several offices and headed for the front of the mansion he lived in, along with all the other reapers that worked there. Now, how about trespassing into Area 51? That sounded rather fun.

His mind seemed disconnected as he drove, the jeep’s engine purring as it shot out onto the empty highway. He pushed the car to 90 MPH as he watched for the exit out onto the desert. An almost nonexistent trail. “S***!” he swerved out onto the desert, almost passing the trail. The jeep shot out over the bumpy sand and rock, leaping ahead at the smallest bumps. It continued along like this for an hour or so.

The male drove faster as he hit a long dusty road. Seemingly abandoned. As he neared a sign that said no trespassing, he slowed to an almost stop, pulling off the road and behind a large boulder. He then crawled into the trunk and pulled his nice turtleneck off, changing into a black t-shirt. He slid from his new jeans into dark cargo pants and felt-soled boots. Terrence then pulled a belt from the corner of the trunk. Attached, were multiple handguns, daggers, a rope, and other smallish tools. He was ready to go. As he turned the old handle on the jeep, it scraped and squealed a bit. Bits of metal chafed from underneath. He needed to oil the handle when he got home. If he got home..Who knew what could happen down there. The door popped open and he slid out, silently, like a cat, a black shadow, invisible to the ears.

Terrence threw his dust colored tarp over the jeep, camouflaging it before starting off towards the watchtower. His gait was long and meant to run for a long time. His stamina and speed were high, so he could run for long amounts of time and cover great distances.

As he neared a bit closer to the watchtower, he unhooked his binoculars and a small sniper rifle from the utility belt. He could see the guard seemed distracted, a lonely sniper. He equipped a silencer and aimed, ever so carefully. One pull of the trigger was all it took. The man fell with a muffled scream. Terrence hooked up all his tools again and continued running. Within 10 minutes, he pulled himself up the stairs, avoiding broken glass from where his shot had ripped through the windows above. He looked around the small room, glancing for only a moment at the guard and the blood sticky across his chest, and stared around the small room. “Hmmmm,” he thought for a moment.


"Last Stand, you there?" a voice crackled over the radio, startling Terrence but he then
spotted a walkie talkie in the guard’s dead hand.
He morphed his voice according to the scream he'd heard earlier, a talent that had taken years to develop, and answered. "Yea. Thought I saw someone out a ways. Just the glare of the sun. Y'know if my shift's about over? I don't feel real good. Bit dehydrated?"

"Yea, go 'head and come down. Sargent said he'll open the tunnel now." Terrence smirked and looked around. Ah, there it is. A hatch. He hooked the radio to his belt and tried the hatch. It stuck.
"S***.." On second thought, he snatched up the sniper's high power rifle, slinging it on his hip. Terrence began to wrestle the guards clothes from his corpse, he got the light jacket and slacks off the man before the door came unlocked. He quickly reached up and pulled the door open just enough to put in the guards coffee cup, to keep the door open. He slipped into the hefty sized slacks and pulled the thin jacket on and pulled the zipper up. Before turning and proceeding through the door, Terrence reached down and pulled the New England Patriots hat from the guard.

“New England? For real?" He slipped the hat on his head, just for good measure. Before going through the door Terrence took another quick look around the small guard's shack. Was there anything else he needed in here?