<div class="floatleft">(http://i1191.photobucket.com/albums/z466/Corvus269/Characters/TimThomasHead.jpg)</div><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"> Tim Thomas</span></span></strong><br/><br/><strong>Age:</strong>37<br/><br/><strong>Crime:</strong>Killed 13 and injured 7 in a grocery store shooting spree<br/><br/><strong>Location:</strong>Outside the burning library ---> random alley way.<br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Drake, Brazil, Detrius, Natalie<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Pressed against the cold and filthy brick of the antiquated building, Tim willed himself to breath as quietly as he could manage while softly panting to catch his breath. He wasn't terribly out of shape, but he wasn't exactly a young buck anymore either and the chains that restricted his movement caused him to run in such a way that required much more physical exertion that would otherwise be necessary.<em>I need to get these chains off,</em>he thought irritably. Dark eyes hastily scanned his surroundings in search for something, anything that might aid in their removal, or least to sever their linking together and thus freeing his legs and arms from their restrictive confinement. But their was nothing in the area that would be of use for such a task, only garbage bins overflowing with rubbish.<br/><br/>He heard a voice, an unfamiliar voice belonging to a woman calling out for help with opening a door. Carefully peering around the scuffed corner of the grimy old alley he'd ducked himself into, Tim saw a white haired woman wearing leather running in his direction. She was unfamiliar as well, and didn't look like a cop but if she was, Tim was confident he could take her out without much of a fuss. He pushed himself from the cold and grimy wall and shuffled as fast as his chained limbs would carry him, running in the direction where he'd heard the call for help come. His thoughts were that if he could get that door open, it would get him out of the open, out of sight and buy him some time to find a way to remove the chains. He also reasoned that he'd have a much better chance of finding tools to remove those chains inside somewhere than outside, not to mention the fact that he would be inside, out of the freezing cold.<br/><br/>As he shuffled down the alley, the platinum haired woman passed him by, uttering hateful words of... wisdom? Her words and her passing him by both made him angry, as evidenced by his intimidating scowl.<strong>"No shit, Sherlock,"</strong>he growled in frustration.<strong>"Unless you got a key or a hacksaw tucked away somewhere..."</strong>he continued, but went quiet when she ran on ahead, too far for her to hear the rest of what Tim had to say. He heard a male voice in the darkness up ahead calling quietly, "this way," followed quickly by the distinct sound of fists against someone face. As he continued to shuffle at top speed, the darkness gave way to Brazil as she punched Detrius one final time in the face, which was not bleeding. He scoffed at the sight of the woman handing the man his ass and the poisonous threats she spat at him afterwards.<strong>"Better shut that fucking mouth, bitch. They'll hear your yappin' ass,"</strong>he whispered spitefully as he passed the two, shaking his head as he glanced to Detrius, as if to say,<em>"You just got owned by a woman, you pussy."</em><br/><br/>He checked each alley that he passed, searching for the owner of the voice who had called for help, figuring he would know her when he saw her struggling with some door or window. It wasn't long until he saw a pretty young thing trying with all her might to force open a locked door that appeared as if it had seen far too much use and the passing of time. He had paused at the junction as he assessed the situation, taking stock of his surroundings. He didn't recognize the girl at all, but she was petite, pretty, and she looked scared half out of her mind as she struggled with the door. Had he the full use of his legs, his combat training would have lead him to kick the door near it's weakening hinges, freeing it from it's moorings and allowing them entrance. As it were, Tim was forced once again to resort to using his body as a battering ram.<strong>"I've got this,"</strong>he said confidently.<strong>"You might want to stand over there,"</strong>he suggested, nodding his head to the far side of the alley, away from the door. Shuffling with as much speed as he could muster towards the door, Tim turned his shoulder at the last minute, slamming into the door with brute force and shearing the steel lock through the old, decrepit wood and sending the door flying open. He stumbled inside, falling face first on the hard floor inside with an audible<strong>"OOOF!"</strong>The door was still in one piece and connected at to the frame, though it would no longer catch when closed.