<div class="floatleft">(http://i67.photobucket.com/albums/h289/masta_loki/tattoo_thumb1.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Vincent Kincaid<br/><strong>Locations:</strong>Art workshop, CSU campus<br/><strong>Date &amp; Time:</strong>7-8 am, ish<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Angel Torres (Zombie)<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Vincent was distantly aware that somebody else had entered the workshop as he hammered away at his new axe, ensuring the head was firmly seated with the handle.  It wasn’t until a blood-curdling scream caused the fine hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end and his attention to snap to his classmate with a fresh surge of adrenaline.  He was only granted a glimpse of the embodiment of disease charged towards him as Vincent’s feet, thinking quickly, dashed aside from the charging body before his conscious thought had a chance to really register what was happening.<br/><br/>Even as Angel’s charge narrowly missed, Vincent could see that his hands were still reaching out towards him without bothering to redirect his momentum.<strong>”Dude, what the f-“</strong>That was all Vincent could shout before Angel’s foot caught his tool bag, causing his compromised balance to fail entirely before falling into the simple furnace of glowing hot coals.  In a cacophony of clamoring metal, the simply welded legs of the forge basin snapped as Angel fell to the ground amongst a pile of smoldering embers as the forge’s contents dumped its contents over his head and back.  Vincent could only watch wide-eyed with horror as coals hot enough to form metal charred though thin clothing and fused to Angel’s flesh.<br/><br/><strong>”Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!  What the fuck were you thinking, Angel?!”</strong>Vincent cried out, using the axe head to start sweeping coals off his classmate.<strong>”Don’t you dare die on me; you owe me a new forge, you dick.”</strong>