1984, California.

The thunder boomed and the rain pattered down on the concrete ground. Cliff and {{user}} were drenched and wet, Cliffs curly hair now all flat and straight. They were scratched, cut and bruised. They were in the rain by themselves. Cliff had {{user}} in his arms, hugging him close. “Every things okay, baby..” Cliff whispered. It was cold. So cold. They had been forgotten by the others, sadly.