Trip time (Open)

[Steve Rogers]

Steve was busy, outside of his house in Storybooke, loading up a few things onto it. He was going on a small trip, to visit an old friend, and was thinking on what to take. He had already put his one important item on his back, and had it strapped down and covered; his uniform and shield. he had also placed his bed roll on the back of his bike. Right now, he was looking at his simply house he had purchased from Mr. Gold

A white house that had a kitchen, living room, two bed rooms and bathroom. This house sat on a small quarter acre yard. Only thing that was missing, was a white picket fence, but for now, Steve was happy with someplace that he could call his own. He still helped around town, and since a few here, found out just who he is, namely Henry and Red, he was glad that not too many knew. And what amazed Steve more, was the fact that he was in a town that was full of the fairy tale characters.

Well, not everyone here was a fairy tale character; Henry wasn't, neither was Henry's mom. Still to Steve, this was amazing, and he was still packing for his trip to the United Kingdom. Thinking of th epast.

[Angela Baker]

Regina Mills thought cursing people was cool.

They would see how cool she thought it was after Angela cursed her - to an untimely death. In fact, there were many people in this little town who deserved to be punished, in Angela's opinion. Cinderella cheated her way into a life of luxury. Red Riding Hood was, in fact, a werewolf who had killed many people. Granny swore too much. One day, they would all pay for their sins. The angel of death would see it done.

Of course, sometimes, it was best not to get involved. For instance, Snow White and Prince Charming were doing a terribly job of ruling this town, but there were many things in a kingdo-- city that were worse than oppression. She'd let that slide, for now, but she'd certainly be keeping an eye on things around here. As she strolled through Storybrooke, Angela inwardly smirked at the fact that no one around here seemed to be sparing her a second glance. To the outside world, she was merely an innocent young girl who was incapable of causing any trouble. Not that she would define the justice she served as 'causing trouble', but...the outside world seemed to see it that way. They just didn't understand - but no matter. She would find a way to enlighten them.

As Angela strolled down the street, however, she noticed one unfamiliar face. This was strange to her, for she'd memorized all of Storybrooke's residents by name and picture. But this man hadn't been listed, so...she knew he was new around here, from his lack of picture. Perhaps he was just passing through; he did seem to be leaving. After all, who would choose to spend their life in a town full of insane fictional characters? Even so, Angela felt she had a duty to investigate. People were going to be asking questions, and she wanted to be the first to get the answers. Quietly slinking over to the stranger, she stared up at him with wide, Bambi-watching-her-mother-get-shot-and-strapped -to the-back-of-an-automobile eyes. Unblinking. Unwavering. For several long minutes, she watched him...and then...she spoke.

"I haven't seen you around here before."

[Steve Rogers]

Looking at the house, Steve thought on how things in his life had changed from 1942. Sighing at all that he had missed in 70 years. Than, when he was woken, he had to readjust to a time where people like him were history.

"I haven't seen you around here before."

Blinking, Steve looked at the little girl and smiled, "I'm New in town. Been here a few months," he says simply to her as he looks around. "Name's Steve," he adds as he introduces himself to Angela. Thinking,m he pondered for a moment as he looked around, "Beautiful day," he states to her as he sits on his motorcycle. The motorcycle is different than most seen in the 21st Century. This one is a 1940's Harley Davidson motorcycle. It looks like it has been modified, and it has, although the paint job is different compared to how it was during World War II. instead of the Army Green, it is black, but still looks to be modified. Right now, it has a bag attach to the back, and a few other items as well.

[Johnny]

What a nice day it was in Storybrooke, ha ha ha. Johnny had traversed the wide, open plains of the United States of America to reach Storybrooke, a town where he had been told to do banking business. The banking business was very competitive, yes, but it was nothing compared to what Lisa had to deal with. Speaking of Lisa, she was tearing him apart with how she was behaving recently - but, he was going to show her. He would record everything. He had set up a recording camera next to the phone that everyone somehow failed to notice, so he would soon know about her scandalous affair with his "best friend" Mark.

They tricked him, they didn't keep their promise, they used him and... to be honest, he didn't really care anymore. Sure, he was the fool, but he needed to learn to embrace his nearly-adopted son, Denny. It was a sad way to live, but it was a way to live nonetheless. As Johnny strolled down a street in Storybrooke, admiring some red roses growing nearby, he spotted a young girl and a man talking to each other. The man was standing next to a motorcycle, which Johnny could only assume was from the 1940's - it also looked modified. Johnny had learned how to identify motorcycles while he was on the lam.

"Oh, hi everyone!" Johnny said as he approached the two. He was surprised to see people out here! Of course, he may have known that there were actual people in Storybrooke if he hadn't smashed his TV so long ago. That was a rash decision, but he didn't regret him. Everybody had betrayed him, and he was fed up with this world! Johnny smiled, waving at the two. "Would you like to play the football with me? Ha ha ha!" Johnny laughed, pulling a football out of his tuxedo.

[Angela Baker]

Angela's expression didn't change as Steve addressed her. However, as he continued to speak, her gaze slowly drifted down to his motorcycle. She would say it was probably a 1940's Harley Davidson by her best estimate, but it had been modified - its new inky black paint coat reflected the sun like a dazzling ocean that had just suffered an oil spill. She wished she had a motorcycle like that. But the economy wasn't quite so kind to the underdogs.

"My name is Angela. I come from Camp Storybrooke. It's a summer camp being sponsored by Mr. Gold." She recited dully without so much as blinking. "It's so much fun, it's almost..." Angela looked away, off into the distance. "...painful." Indeed, the pain of being bullied and rejected was almost as sharp and real as the blows of a evil Pagan god-influenced little girl chopping up her family with an axe. Angela remembered reading about that incident. It had made the front page at the time, which was all any serial killer could hope for, but...Angela herself was a little more careful. Fame was a fickle friend.

She was pulled out of her thoughts at the approach of yet another man. ..Immediately, Angela stiffened, looking up at him sharply. There was something about him...something that suggested he had some sort of cosmic power. Her eyes narrowed. He was a potential threat to her plans. She would have to keep a close eye on him. But now the man was inviting them to play football with him, as if they had nothing better to do with their precious time. Football reminded Angela of playing baseball at Camp Arawak. Ricky could still eat shit and die, as far as she was concerned. Or fall of the face of the earth. That was a promise. But an innocent thing like playing football would give her plenty of opportunity to off these two if needed. Plenty of accidents could happen when you were playing football, after all. So after several uncomfortably long moments of staring, she nodded slowly. "I'm game."