<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/36/c7/ee/36c7ee071cc6d56a6f390852faad369f.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Benson "Bence" Marconi<br/><strong>Alias:</strong>Red Ranger<br/><strong>Time/Date:</strong>October 1st, Evening<br/><strong>Location:</strong>BYOB Bar<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Everyone, Open<strong>Mention:</strong>N/A<br/><hr/><br/>It didn’t seem to matter where he went. He was convinced that the rest of the group wouldn’t have been able to find him, but after encountering the other guy with the same weird head-bug, he should have known that the rest would follow. Vivienne strolled in and sat her fine ass on the pool table across from the one he was using. Kara was behind her, and not so long after was the prim-princess herself, Isabella.<br/><br/><strong>No matter what you do Bence. The other rangers are going to naturally gravitate toward each other. You guys can run to each other’s rescue this way.</strong><br/><br/>Bence honestly didn’t give a fuck about the convenience of having a built-in tracking device in his fucking head. He was drunk, and the fact that everyone was trying to play off what happened in the park; what was happening currently—the fact that everyone just<em>magically</em>wandered into the same damn bar; it all pissed him off!<br/><br/>There was a loud clatter of a pool stick dropping on the floor, having been tossed on the floor by Bence. Because common sense was beyond him when he was intoxicated, instead of using telepathy, he outright shouted: “Enough of this bullshit!”<br/><br/>His outburst caused the bar to briefly go quiet for an awkward ten seconds and caught the eyes of the scarce patrons in the hole-in-the-wall to include the bartender. Bence recalled what Kara had asked about the awkwardness of not discussing “the incident.”<br/><br/>“We’re gonna fuckin’ talk about this shit right now! We’re just gonna let it outta of the fuckin’ bag. Kill the back-monkey! Get the big fat bitch of our chest!”<br/><br/><strong>Bence…</strong><br/><br/>“SHUT UP! Don’t fuckin’ interrupt me!” Bence exclaimed to what seemed like no one to the Normals.<br/><br/>A few customers started to leave due to being irked by Bence’s apparent drunken hostility. Resting a hand on the pool table (to steady his balance), Bence pointed a finger at each ranger in a half circle as he accused, “All of you mother fuckers are fuckin’ serial killer psychopaths! You were just okay about fuckin’ killin’ these people because the worm in your head—whatever the fuck they are—said it was okay. We don’t even know what their purpose is and you guys are just like…”<br/><br/>He started swinging his arms around to imitate a weapon until his swinging caused him to stubble a little. He grabbed the pool table again and continued, “You guys are fucked up! I feel like I’m the only fuckin’ one who felt fuckin’ terrified that I might have been actually killin’ real people. They looked like real people and they died like I’d believe real people would. I don’t know…I haven’t seen dead people until today. Definitely not people gettin’ shot, slashed, and just royally fucked by a group of blood-lustin’ mother fuckers! Unlike you serial killer fucks, I’m not okay with this. I want this fuckin’ thing outta my head, and I wanna go back to bein’ a nobody. Whatever these worms got planned I want nothin’ to do with. They can find a guy that actually takes pleasure in killin’ people. It’s not gonna be!”<br/><br/>Bence held up two middle fingers to the gaggle, which was intended for their Mobicytes including his own before he turned and marched for the door. His hip and the edge of his shoe bumping into chairs as he made his glorious exit.