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17 January 2009 @ 02:05 pm
 
Kevin Thompson a.k.a. Ryan Alexander a.k.a. Marcus Connell... a.k.a. Timothy fucking Speedle.







Story of my life. Actually, it hasn't even been my own life since I got myself all fucked up with the FBI. I suppose that it's my own fault but how can you refuse to help take down a drug cartel? Destroy people who ruin lives, cause addictions and murder innocent children in any random drive by? Trading my life for thousands that could be saved didn't seem so bad at the time. Well, I was wrong. Wisconsin wrong.

I did my job, I testified like a good boy but of course what remained of the cartel couldn't allow me to live, I guess they had some sort of problem with me taking them down and we had a difference of opinion; They wanted me to die, I kinda wanted to live. So .. we compromised. Sorta. I still had plenty more to do of course, I was a witness in many ways and this thing was going to last for years. The FBI would need me again later on down the road so that means they needed me to survive. In order to do that, I had to die.

It was only a week or so before the FBI had this elaborate scheme to hide me away, I was going to be killed in a tragic accident and no one would be the wiser. I had to leave my friends, my family.. everything that was me I had to leave behind. Needless to say I was depressed. I was getting sloppy and that was when things changed, that intricate plan? Got tossed.

Walking into that Jewelery Store I knew something was wrong pretty quickly. It was just, off. Things are still a blur of colors and gun shots, only from Horatio of course. As I didn't get one goddamn shot off. Figures. That's when the plan went into action.

I was shot and I got the scar to prove it and I did die, there was no white light that I can recall, there was no comforting image of the Lord to save me. I just died, nothin' fancy. However.. say what you want about the FBI, they're a determined bunch of people. They had Doctors pumping me full of blood, sewing me back up. That bullet hit me right in the fuckin' chest and it hurt like a mother after. Horatio didn't know, I wanted so desperately to tell him but I couldn't. That would put H in harm's way and that was unacceptable. The only person that knew was Alexx and a few others from the FBI of course. Alexx did the autopsy on me, it was taped as sort of a 'proof' that I had truly died. In a way I did I suppose. My old life was left behind and I was reborn as Kevin Thompson. Yawn.

Kevin Thompson was boring. Had a boring job in a boring town tucked somewhere in Arizona. Kevin Thompson died pretty quickly because I couldn't handle a regular 9-5 desk job pushing papers for a podunk little town's law enforcement. Where Billie Bob got in a fight with Big Hungry Joe and lost a tooth then filed a report about it. Oh hell no. So against the FBI's wishes, I left. Tried another life. Ryan Alexander in Des Plaines IL. Didn't work. Hard to react to a name you don't feel, a name that isn't -you-. And I simply couldn't get the hang of it. I left again, the FBI bitching the entire time. Marcus didn't fair any better. I was stuck in Assbackwards Wisconsin as a -farm hand-. It was getting worse and I was becoming dangerously close to turning emo. I missed my family, I missed my old fucking life. I missed coming home and not smelling like cow shit. Once again they moved me. Infuriated at my stubbornness but I didn't care. I was losing it, teetering on the edge of sanity. Wisconsin will do that to you. They gave in and I got what was as close to my old life as I could ever get.
 
 
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Horatio Cainelt_red on January 23rd, 2009 03:25 am (UTC)
(Set Sail)
[IC]

So that's what happened to you. I... I have no choice but to understand why you wouldn't tell me. But, it hurts to know that you wouldn't trust me with that. You have no idea how hard it was for all of us. For me. Watching you die, not being able to lose it. I'm not a drinker, but believe you me I did some heavy drinking that night.

Glad to know you're not dead.