Welcome home Jessica Scott…

Cometh the Hour, Cometh the Woman: Part 7

[***][***][***]

Once before, when I was caught taking naked pictures of my sisters in the shower… let me rephrase that for clarity. Once, when I was caught SELLING naked pictures of my sisters in the shower, I had to run for my life. That time, it was just myself I was carrying and I was able to outrun my pursuers, though I definitely got what was coming to me when the General came home. This time, however, I was carrying a frightened and fighting preschooler while running away from a screaming man in uniform, all the while doing so in a foreign body with my boobs flying about.

It was a sight to see, I’m quite certain. I only hope no one was taking photographs.

After running down the terminal for about 30 seconds, I made a beeline for a group of three men and one woman wearing police uniforms who I hoped were actually entitled to wear them. They heard the shouting and saw me coming, and were no doubt thrown for a loop, New York City Police seldom saw people being chased heading TOWARD them.

“You have to help me, “I said as quickly as I could. “This girl is being kidnapped.”

That got their attention, the tall African American woman subtly unbuttoned the strap to her gun. The kidnapper behind me didn’t have a good angle and only had eyes for Kayleigh. By the time he saw what was waiting for him, it was too late and he tried to brazen it out.

“What’s all going on here?” said the grey haired police sergeant with a powerful, stern voice.

“Ah, Officer,” said the fake trying to catch his breath and steel his reserve, “I was just escorting this girl to her father, we stopped for her to go to the bathroom. When she came out, this crazy girl grabbed her and started running.”

“She said something about the little girl being kidnapped?” continued the sergeant giving the man an appraising look.

“Kidnapping? SHES the kidnapper! Look, I have orders right here for Fort Bliss,” said the phony digging into his jacket to fish out some official looking forms. “Permission from her father.”

“He’s lying!” I shouted and pointed at his chest. “Look, did any of you serve in the military? He’s wearing decorations from 40 years ago, Fort Bliss is an ARMY base, the Marines use camps.”

“Look, I don’t have to stand here and be called a liar by some crazy woman. Kayleigh knows me, I have the orders. If you just let me catch my plane, I won’t press charges. The girl is obviously disturbed.”

The sham Marine put on a good show of a concerned man just doing his duty, the officers seemed inclined to take his word for it. Why wouldn’t they? Appearances being what they were. A thousand thoughts went through my head including that I might be wrong, that Kayleigh’s father was just training in the desert at the Army’s tank school. Or maybe all the stress of the last few days HAD actually caused me to snap. But my heart started beating again when the wary black officer cleared her throat to speak up.

“I may not recognize the medals, but I recognize her,” the policewoman said, pointing to the crying little girl. “There was an amber alert put out on little Kayleigh not an hour ago.”

The fake marine started running away, but he didn’t get far.

[***][***][***]

“You’re quite the hero Miss Ryan,” said the T.S.A. suit in the interview room.

“Mrs. Ryan,” I corrected him waiving my ring finger at him. “Just, recently.”

“Ah, well, congratulations.”

“Thank you. Look, I’m going to miss my flight if this is going to take much longer.”

“I’m sorry Mis… Mrs. Ryan,” he said and actually looked apologetic. “Making you’re plane is just not going to be possible, we will be taking down interviews and doing paperwork for a while, yet.

“Joy.”

“How did you know the man in the uniform was a fake?”

“Because he was wearing a fake uniform, the decorations were in the wrong order and there was no way he could have been issued some of them. I got suspicious, so I followed them and started speaking to Kayleigh. I got even more suspicious. Look, we have already been over this.”

“Just following procedure, we keep asking the same questions in a slightly different manner to see if people slip up and tell a different story. You will be pleased to know that you passed. Not that I thought you had anything to do with this, of course.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, though, how does a young lady know so much about military awards? Enough to spot a fake from across a crowded airport?”

I could tell, all attempts aside to put me on my ease, that he WAS mildly suspicious of me. So, I decided to tell as much truth as I could get away with. I was careful to only let out what would be reasonable for JESS, not myself. It would be too hard to convince the fed that a trust fund babe would have picked up the fake vibe by instinct, rather than a man born and bred to it would have.

“For the last several years, it has been my goal to be accepted as a midshipman to the Naval Academy. I made the study of all things military, particularly Marine, my life’s passion.”

“Oh well, good luck to you, my nephew Teddy is trying to get into the Air Force Academy, wants to be a Top Gun.”

“Top Gun is Navy, not the zoomies, and I did get in.”

“Well, then double congratulations to you, I’m sure this will be a wonderful start to your military record. I’ll be sure to write up some sort of commendation for you. Never too early to be thinking about promotion.”

That wrenched my gut, with more powerful a force than any morning sickness could provide.

“Thank you,” I said trying to keep the tears out of my eyes. “But I had to decline…medical.”

“Oh,” he said with avuncular expression I wished I could wipe off his well maintained face. “Nothing too serious I hope?”

“Nothing that seven more months won’t cure.” I said dejectedly looking down at my midsection.

“I see,” The T.S.A. man grinned, “I suppose that explains the recently part… I just keep congratulating you, Mrs. Ryan. I’m sure you will make a wonderful mother.”

“All I want to do his get on a plane, or at the very least grab a book, if you are going to keep me here.”

“The book I can provide, the plane will have to wait a bit. Besides, we here in New York don’t just let our hero’s just slide off into the good night. There are already some news crews wanting to speak to you.”

“I didn’t want to be a hero, all I wanted was some pizza!”

[***][***][***]

I was five hours past my initial departure time, seven hours since being placed in the tiny windowless room when a uniformed man brought in what was left of my possessions.

“I’m sorry, Miss, but you know we have a very strict policy against unattended luggage,” he said regretfully as he laid down my bags. “TSA got called in, we irradiated them a little after you came in here. I couldn’t get to it in time. Everything electronic is basically gone, though you might get a bit off the hard drive if you hire a professional. Anything like a credit card the magnetic strip has been degaussed and it won’t work anymore. The cash is good still of course, thankfully no one made off with it.”

“All $34 of it?” I said raising an eyebrow. “How am I supposed to do anything…. Without a computer or a card, or …”

“We ARE sorry, Miss, you’re ID still works as an ID though the chip inside is toast, so if you ever get pulled over, let the cop know what happened. The credit card numbers themselves should work, just tell people to punch them in by hand until you can get a replacement. The computer…well I spoke to Agent White, he said you could submit a claim and TSA will cover it, least we could do, all things considered.”

“What about a flight to Omaha?”

“Last one there, for any airline I checked, left for the day; but there is direct flight at 7:10 A.M. We got you a room, and covered the cost at the Hampton Inn. I can get you a ride over there in a bit, and an agent will pick you up at 5: A.M. for your departure."

“Oh joy, a Hampton Inn, huh?” I asked wryly. “Not the Plaza, don’t I rate?”

“She was only one little girl, Miss, the Plaza is the Plaza.”

[***][***][***]

I was taken to the Hampton Inn, where room service was not available, the driver, however, took pity on me and stopped at a McDonald's on the way, he even paid for it, which was nice of him. Though I hoped he didn’t expect anything in return as he was over 40, and would never have been Jessica’s type, even if she had gone blind, at the same time as catching leprosy.

Or maybe he was just being a nice guy, all this female interaction stuff was taking a while to get used to.

My bags had caught the plane that I had missed, and Delta said they would be waiting for me when I arrived. But that didn’t help me out much for the moment. Thankfully enough, chain hotels are built for this sort of thing and most everything I needed to make myself fit for human company was already in my room, or made available when I asked at the front desk with only the very minimum of simpering. So that evening, I lay in bed, naked, since I was trying to keep my only clothes as clean as possible while I ate fries and spilled salt in places where it shouldn’t go. I seemed to be spending my whole life in hotel rooms of late, and was quite eager for some sort of home, even borrowed.

T.S.A. was as good as their word and a polite rapping on my door woke me up at oh dark early. After a quick shower, I donned my still not ripe clothes and grabbed my purse for the airport. The laptop was junk. After writing down the model number for my report, I upended it into the trash last night. Air travel is just a much more pleasant experience when you are a VIP, however temporary. Or maybe it was just easier to get through an airport before the sun had even risen.

Soon enough, I was safely on board the 737 and being offered complimentary coffee and orange juice that I calculated I had paid about $23 an ounce for. As the plane took off and left behind a chapter of my life, I raced the sun west toward a new life. I took some time to ponder some of the more ponderous and weighty issues of the last few days. Like the fact that I never did get that pizza.

[***][***][***]

The sight out the window as we descended down toward Eppley Airfield was disquieting. Miles and miles as far as the eye could see. No mountains, or hills or oceans or lakes. Just a thin strip of river winding north to south that I thought we were going to crash land into as close as it came to the airport. But the pilot knew his own business, and we touched down on solid concrete. It was a matter of minutes before we were docked up at the gate and letting people out. One nice thing to be said about smaller cities was that there wasn’t the legendary delays on the tarmac while you waited for the rest of western civilization to get done unloading.

Since I was unencumbered by any carry on, I was one of the first up and out the door toward my temporary refuge. I hardly thought I would stick around in a city that didn’t even have the self respect to host a professional sports team, but I guess it was mildly better living on the streets…. At least I hoped. Things were not starting out very well at the car rental agency.

“What do you mean I have to be 25 to rent a car?” I asked incredulously. “I was driving around in a rental all last week!”

“If you did,” the woman said refusing to even grant me that much. “It was not with Hertz.”

“No, it was some highbrow car agency my friend loaned to me. Both of whom I assure you have better standards than you people.”

I maybe should have been more diplomatic in my desperation. But that was never really a big part of who I was if you know what I mean.

“That may be, but we are unable to help you young lady.”

“Then I’ll go across the hall to people who will!”

“You’ll find they have the same policy we do, good day,” She wished me, though, I could tell she would rather a pit open up in the floor and swallow me and my attitude straight to hell.

Budget rental was the same way, Enterprise would give me a car, but only at such a ruinous rate that it would be cheaper for me to take three days worth of rental and make a full months payment on a car of my own. So admitting to defeat in the face of corporate America and its anti-teen bias, I left in a huff. Delta had been true to their word and the two bags that should have been going with me were waiting for me at the security office. The several, more bulky pieces were still waiting for the freight service and the clerks were not to promising on an estimated time, so I took what I could and got the hell out of there. I walked toward the front doors and the waiting taxi stand cautiously for a ride to my temporary refuge. I didn’t know the exact address, but Jess had it printed on her driver’s license since it was officially her home of record and the cabbie seemed to know where to head to.

[***][***][***]

It was a red brick house in the federalist style, though, Omaha being settled when it was, it couldn’t possibly be an original, so had to be a reasonably true copy. Big… bigger than anything I had ever lived in before, even the general officers quarters at Camp Pendleton. Three stories above ground it took up several lots of the size of the lesser houses about it. I remembered it even had a small pool and full sized tennis court in the back. Reader… it was as intimidating as all hell, particularly shut up and all dark like it was. I don’t mind telling you at first that I was eager to tell the cabbie to get me out of here. Even in the mid morning sun, it sent a shiver down my spine. But logic and eventually, self control got the better of me.

Jess only owned two keys, being without a car of her own or a job or anything else that required them. It was a simple enough matter to find out which opened the front door, but it did make me wonder what the second opened up. The front door gave way with an ominous creek, and I was inside the house. The furniture all had covers and drop cloths over them. The air inside was a bit stale with the dust that no one had been around in a while to clean. The power was still running though, so someone, likely the man I had a meeting with later today was still making sure the bills were being paid. Jessica, of course, had been away at boarding school and her evil stepmother, who I guess was now MY evil stepmother since we had functionally the same relationship, had been living in Europe for the last several years. Where In Europe, I didn’t remember and couldn’t be bothered to care.

I dragged my two suitcases up the stairs and hesitated at the foot of the stairs. My only previous time here, I had been sleeping in one of the guest rooms down the hall from the master bedroom. Stepmother being at least somewhat conscious of her duty, forbid me sharing the same bed with her charge. Jessica’s room was almost a guest room itself. It had enough pink and frill to remind one that it housed a girl, but all the personal touches and little knickknacks that are accumulated over a childhood were not present. The master bedroom was the most comfortable looking, but I didn’t know if I was indeed Mistress of this house or if W.S.M. would be arriving soon to set up shop again, or what I would tell her if she did? I plopped down the suitcases on Jessica’s bed and decided this was the easiest for the time being. If I couldn’t get used to the color pink in the comfort of ‘my own home’, how could I be expected to function in my perceived gender out in public? This would be a good self test. I thought and hoped it wouldn’t prove a costly failure.

I opened up both suitcases to unpack and stow my gear when I was confronted with an unwelcome shock. If I had spent a week trying, I couldn’t have done to myself by design what I had done by accident. The first case was stuffed to the brim with shoes. Shoes that I was fairly certain where not shoes at all, but rather some science experiment gone terribly wrong. As a guy, I had owned exactly three. One set of boots, one of running shoes, and one pair of black dress shoes. When holes started showing up, I bought a new pair and begrudged the expense while I was doing it. You could maybe fudge a little and say I had four, but only during winter would I have slippers and summer some sandals. But three was the usual number…three were all a guy really needed.

Jessica had about twenty, and I had brought them all with me across country.

The second suitcase wasn’t any better. It's contents wrapped inside a garbage bag so it wouldn’t spill all over the case, all the feminine battle rattle that I had collected from Jessica’s room back in Exeter. Perfumes, paints, makeup of all kind, jewelry, hairspray, hair gel, hair brushes, hair scrunchies and otherwise hair-Armageddon for me. There were lotions, creams, leg razors and even a half empty box of tampons that I wanted to throw away, but was too embarrassed to be caught with it in the garbage. But of actual clothes, even as much as a fresh pair of panties, I had none. Not until the rest of my baggage arrived by cheaper freight.My my own damn fault for being a tightwad with other people’s money. No change of clothes, and wearing some that I had spent 2 days in by this point, a rather full and sweaty two days at that. I had an important meeting with the lawyers in less than three hours.

I sort of lost the plot for a little bit and considered going to meeting with the conservative sounding Mr. DeGeas wearing nothing but makeup and high heels, but I had only just arrived in town, and decided to let the city catch its breath a little before it got used to my wicked ways. I closed my eyes, and sighed for a few seconds letting the self anger just flow out and over me, then went to work. I unloaded all the shoes, lined them up in two neat rows in the walk in closet, then set up all the other gear where it seemed most logical: on the vanity and the attached bathroom. Once done with the matter at hand, I stacked up the two cases in the back of the closet and gave myself another head shake,then went downstairs to the landline I had seen in the kitchen.

I made a call to information, which connected me to another cab company, it would be about 15 minutes. but they were willing to take my card over the phone. So, I didn’t grumble much. About five minutes into my wait, however, I looked up from the chair in the living room to see a police cruiser pull up into the large driveway. Two officers got out, and started walking toward the door with their guns drawn.

[***][***][***]

I considered making a run for it, but quickly discounted it, where, after all would I run too? I calmly went to the front door, being careful to do so as slowly as possible, I opened the front door shortly before the two male officers arrived at the entryway.

“I’m unarmed, I’m not trespassing, I had a key!” I said coming into view with both my hands raised.

The Omaha Police Department had obviously not got the memo about diversity. Both were white males sporting the pseudo military swagger that typified some of the scare stories you hear about rogue cops. Each had buzz cut hair with large sunglasses showing off my scared reflection. The only thing that distinguished one from the other is that one was taller and one looked meaner.

“Keep your hands where we can see them, and identify yourself.” said the nasty looking one.

“I’m T…” I started to say as I lifted my hands higher, and was glad that I caught myself in time.” “I’m Jessica Ryan. Jessica Scott until recently. I just got married.”

“And what are you doing here, Miss, we got a call about a break in.”

“I… uh, I live here. I don’t know anything about a break in.”

“You don’t seem too sure about the living here part?”

“It’s a recent move, my plane just landed this morning.”

“Uh huh,” said the officer as he holstered his weapon and approached me with his handcuffs out.

“Steve look,” said the taller one pointed toward the wall. It was a family photo gallery. The first was of a pretty blond girl and her father, right next to one of the young family a few years later with the addition of women quite a few years younger than the man was. Finally, there was a more recent photo of a stiff young woman and the new wife alone. Both of them had smiles on their face, but their eyes looked like they would rather be doing something else. All young girls in the photo bore a striking resemblance to the face I saw in the mirror this morning.

“Do you have any ID, Miss,” asked the angry looking one, sternly.

“Yes, of course, I do, it’s in my purse over their by the chair.”

“You can go get it,” he said calmly though he still rested his right hand on his pistol.

I slowly went to retrieve it, dearly hoped he didn’t call it a fake when chip inside didn’t transmit. He didn’t take it back to the cruiser, however, instead, gave it a hard look and turned it up and down while under the light to inspect the holographs.

“According to this,” he said indicating the ID in his hand. “You live here, mind telling me why the security alarm went off.”

“I’m sorry,” I said thinking quickly. “I’ve been away at boarding school for many years. I…I had forgotten the combination.” Or even the fact that there WAS one.

“I see, where are your parents at the moment, Jessica?”

He WOULD ask that. Somehow, I doubted he would accept Middle of Nowhere, Desert, Iraq as a forwarding address for ‘daddy’.

“My mother died, when I was born. My father eight years afterward, my stepmother had guardianship while I was away at school, but I graduated. My birthday was…last week. I’m 18, now.”

“And your stepmother?”

“I don’t know… abroad,” I said hesitantly. “We’re not close.”

“I see,” said the big and mean one. Tapping the ID with his index finger, giving it one last look before deciding to hand it back to me. “Best get that code sorted out before rearming it. The Omaha Police Department doesn’t enjoy these false alarms, Miss.”

“No, I mean… yes I’ll get the code, and no of course you don’t like it.”

Both of them seemed to relax a little bit, weapons and restrains were quickly stowed where they belonged as the taller one reached for his radio to call in the all clear. They both made for the door and left me alone with my shattered nerves. The mean one though, hesitated a bit at the door, he turned his head back and looked at me just as he was about to descend the steps to the driveway. He gave me a long penetrating look, and said simply. “It’s good to have a Scott back in Omaha, ma’am… we’ve missed you.”

And I didn’t know what to make of that.

[***][***][***]

The taxi arrived just as the police cruiser was rounding the corner to leave the street. It was maroon, and, having just left New York City with its distinctive checker caps, it caused me to blink a little bit. The driver, though, seemed to know his business since he got here right about when he said he would,and gave two sharp honks on the horn to let me know he was waiting. I grabbed my purse and used the key to lock the door to the mausoleum behind me. I only hoped that the alarm actually needed a live person to turn it on, not on some sort of remote or motion sensitive activation.

“Where too, Miss,” The African cabbie asked me. It seemed even here in the heartland, the cabs were being taken over by the Sudanese.

“A department store, the mall.” I said as I buckled my seat belt.

“Which one, Misses?”

I was still a bit rattled from my police presence and was no mood to be insulted by being called 'Miss'.

“PICK ONE!” I shouted in a huff as I stared out the window toward the other stately homes about.

“Nearest is Crossroads,” said the cabbie non-plused, I guess he must get screamed at a lot. “But nice girl like you don’t wanna go there. Better is Von Maur at Westroads.”

“Then by all means, nothing but the best,” I agreed.

[***][***][***]

It was about a ten minute drive to the large shopping mall. Omaha was a much bigger going concern than Exeter, or most towns of New England for that matter. I was unaccustomed to such a spread to a city. My usual towns were either small enough to see one end to the other, or was built up and dense, but still concentrated in area. All this suburban sprawl was starting to freak me out. Von Maur was an attached three level department store the likes of which Mother would usually frequent. It didn’t have a doorman, so it failed that snooty test, but the visage it presented was one of sufficient wealth and casual opulence. I asked the cabbie to wait in the parking lot. I had no idea how long I would be, and my plastic was apparently good for it as he turned off the engine and reached for his smart phone.

I had no real understanding of how to shop for women’s clothes, but if I have learned anything from Mother and her several shopping expeditions she had dragged me on, it’s that at a certain level., you don’t need to know how to shop. You just needed to know how to buy. The first floor was given over to cosmetics, jewelry and perfumes. I only just narrowly escaped a chemical warfare attack since I was probably smack dab in the middle of the target demographic, I tried not to hold it against the young women who assaulted me... much. The second floor yielded a women’s department. I was surrounded by skirts, dresses and other unfamiliar items in every direction. The western most section of the floor was given over to a small men’s department. I enviously looked at a man trying to decide between two different shades of white button down shirt, but sartorial envy wasn’t going to get this mission done, so, I headed toward the register.

“Good afternoon, Miss, how can I help you?” asked an older well turned out saleslady. She was, barring some extra pounds and a name badge that said ‘Deb,’ wearing what I imagined was appropriate for a meeting with lawyers, so, I felt safe in her care for the moment.

“Hello…um…Deb,” I said as I offered my hand for a shake. “Jessica Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Deb as she shook my hand hesitantly. I guess chicks didn’t go in for that much or something. Either that, or she was trying to keep a safe distance from my overripe clothes.

“I have a bit of a problem. I just got into town, and all my clothes are being delayed by the airline. I’m wearing everything I have at the moment. I’ve been wearing it for a few days now. I have an important meeting with my lawyers about an inheritance. Showing up in Jeans and stained top is probably not going to make them feel better about me.”

“Oh you poor dear,” she said sympathetically.

“Not so poor,” I countered with a grin. “Now that I’m 18, so I can afford to spend a bit, but hopefully, you won’t take too much advantage of me.”

“Oh we wouldn’t do that, Miss, we like repeat customers. Von Maur is a very personal store.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” and oddly enough, I was.

“What were you looking for exactly?”

“You know Deb, I really don’t have any idea.” I said throwing myself on her mercy. “I’ve been sort of a tomboy. my mother died when I was born. I’ve been away at boarding school, and we always just wore the uniform. This will really be the first formal women’s clothes I have ever bought. I was hoping you could suggest something?”

“Perhaps, which law firm is it? It matters, you wouldn’t want to dress up too much for some of the… less prestigious firms.”

“Um… Bernard DeGeas, “I said trying to dredge up the contact information that was given me. “From someplace called Baird Holm.”

“You’re having a meeting with 'The DeGeas',” she seemed startled and then gave me another quick once over. “It would be hard to be under dressed for that. When is it?”

“Ah,” I said looking at my watch. “90 minutes.”

“Well then, we haven’t much time at all do we. Follow me, young lady.”

And I did…guess being called a lady is starting to lose some of its sting.

[***][***][***]

I knew what was coming, so, I was mostly inured to it, mostly. Deb dressed me from the skin out. Including a fresh pair of dainty panties and a bra that I rather wished didn’t do what it did to my girls. But since I figured telling her this would be against some unwritten, for what I knew actually written, code of female conduct. I kept quiet. She then got me a black skirt suit, with a cream blouse and very slight heels. The black I thought appropriate since I was attending to the last will of my supposed late Father. The heels I could have done without. But after a few awkward steps, I got the basic premise down. While I would not be auditioning for the ballet any time soon, at least was not about to kill myself on them. Deb 'tsk tsked' me over the length of the hair on my legs. Since I had in fact never shaved them, I suppose she was right. The problem was solved with a pair of pantyhose that were oddly comfortable once I got them on. And of course, I needed an entirely new purse to go with the outfit…. For some reason known but to God.

She then took me downstairs and had me made over by one of the makeup girls. I wasn’t in any position to be lugging about an entire chemical factory with me, and I was reasonably sure Jess had most of it anyway. I didn’t buy anything and the girl was visibly disappointed. I cheered her up a little when I said I would be back to buy something once I had a car of my own to do shopping with, and asked for her card. She brightened up considerably. I always was a sucker for a pouting pretty girl.

Deb left me alone next to the full length mirror while she totaled up my purchases. I took a moment before grabbing the cab to admire the full effect. Jess has always been plenty pretty enough for me, but I had never seen her like this. Too much work, or too many dollars, or both, but however it was done, I rather liked how I looked… for a moment or two. Then reality crashed back down upon me. I remembered why I was where I was, and who I was.

“Well my child,” I said aloud unenthusiastically while patting my belly. “Let’s go claim our fortune.”

[***][***][***]

Authors note.

This chapter is dedicated to the memory of Sean Smith one of the Americans killed in the Embassy attacks in Libya a few days ago. I sort of knew him, in an internets sort of way. There is an MMORPG called EVE Online that I play it’s a good way to unwind from the real world while at the same time role play as a girl. Sean aka “Vile Rat” was one of the movers and shakers in that universe and I had interacted with him hundreds of times, indeed when he died he still owed me 300 million credits of game currency which now that I think about it is probably the way he wanted to go out…. leave a good looking corpse and have your last check bounce.

Most of you have probably never heard of EVE it’s not as big a deal as World of Warcraft but for those who play it, it becomes more than just a hobby. It’s a way for an everyday person to become a legend. And there are few more legendary than Vile Rat… Give a virtual hug to your internet friends today, you never know when they will be taken away from you.

http://themittani.com/news/rip-vile-rat