Knots IC

[Rith]

http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs11/i/2006/181/c/6/city_by_angcoy.jpg

The smell of a pot of coffee, the first of many for the day, wafted across the stoic rows of empty cubicles, standing like wall inlets in a long, dark mausoleum at this early hour of the morning. The sun hadn't even peeked over the horizon yet, and the chill of night was still lingering on floor seven. The only two people present were the janitor, a bald fellow in his blue jumpsuit, and one early riser, painfully organized and clean. This man was always the first one here, and he and the janitor had a kind of rapport, which consisted of mostly silent nods and casual, friendly comments. Every day they were here, the early riser with his coffee and the janitor with his dust mop. They were entirely comfortable with one another's presence, smiling towards each other and simply continuing their morning routine, each one granting the other a politely wide berth in the shadowy office floor.

This friendly distance between the two, however, would lead to one detail being missed today. Potentially, this would be a fairly important detail. This gap between the two men would lead to an oversight on this one particular morning. As the janitor swept up dust bunnies a few feet away from the early riser, he was not paying too close attention, simply knowing the early riser was there, and failed to notice that this usually ultra-organized fellow, was attentively stirring his coffee with his glasses...



"Going to a construction sight? Why would we ever do that? What could we possibly do there?"

Gary Hinge blew on his pitch-black coffee, trying to get it to cool down as he stood, looking out the window of his large office at the bleak cityscape, lit by the mid-morning sun which glared against the glass skyscrapers all around. The bald, portly man wore a white collared shirt, complete with patterned tie, and black pants which were just a tiny bit too tight for him. Looking back at John Henshaw, Gary smiled, "Don't worry, John, you and I aren't going. This new construction company wants to run everything they're going to do at the new office by our representatives. It's per their regulations and, well, they aren't going to move forward until we send someone. I know it's unorthodox, but I'm telling you that we need to pick a few people to group together and serve as our representatives over at the place by noon. Maybe ten will do. As I was saying, I've got a busy day, John, so I'm assigning this task to you."

John had an expression across his face which spoke loud and clear about the layers and layers of confusion and questions which churned about in his mind concerning this errand. Thankfully, the boss was still turned towards the city, blowing on his coffee, and didn't see the look of "are you stupid?" on John's face. After a few seconds of silence, the thinner man decided to ask probably the smartest question currently bouncing about in his mind, "Why did we go with this new construction company anyways? What happened with ToPro Construction?"

At this, Gary half turned, glancing back at John "We'll still be using ToPro in the future, but this office needs an alternate touch. And I don't have time for twenty questions, either. Would you get on this?"

John blinked. Gary was not usually this short, so, with a shrug and an expression that said "Well, alright then", he turned to go, leaving the boss man in his large office, staring at the city and blowing on his coffee.

{FIRST POST TIME! Everybody do your thing, but include some reason for John to come to you. If you'd like, you can even add him in to your posts and have him swing by. I think he's a pretty fun guy, especially for a boss.}

[Hazuki]

Among the stereotypes of people from Michi's homeland was one particularly annoying one - that they were all unabashedly polite and courteous, and that they gave everyone around them the respect they deserved. Barring the usual limitations of human nature, this was generally the case, and a stereotype that actually had a nugget of truth in it. The problem arose when people who had heard of this expected the isolated young woman to treat them the same way, which was an illusion that was swiftly dispelled. There was no point in being obtuse about her lack of pleasure in the job, and she certainly wasn't going to start any arguments, but she simply didn't see the point in following those social rules.

She wasn't in Japan any more. And she was quite certain that any misgivings it may have about her being blunt with her co-workers would be washed away as soon as it remembered that it still hadn't followed through with her paperwork yet. It was specifically because of these angering thoughts, and the complete lack of alcohol, that Michi focused so completely on her work. All she had to do was sit back in her ugly cubicle, type, and keep the tapping toes of her loafers from making any noise. Everything else would be washed away so peacefully...

Except for this day, when she felt the looming presence of a co-worker at the entrance of her cubicle. She turned in her seat just as John greeted her and met the man with a simple stare.

"Hello, Michi. I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" He asked, with the kind of smile that she simply couldn't give a damn about.

"No." Michi replied, her tone cool as she left one slender palm on her keyboard, idly fingering the keys, while the other rested on her knee.

"Good, good." John kept smiling. "I trust your work is going well. Or, I'd hope so, or somebody must be shuffling around in my reports."

"Yes." She answered and longed for the chance to get back to work. At least her short answers made most people think that she couldn't speak English properly, but as John was the one her recommendation went through to begin with, there wasn't much point in pretending.

"Glad to hear it." Silence hung between them, as John slightly adjusted his tie to fill the time and found that, once again, the woman sitting before him was apparently impervious to awkward silence. "We're looking for people to come check out the new offices. Would you be interested?"

"Yes." A new building wasn't likely to be different from the one she was already in, and with any luck, she'd get to breathe some unregulated air.

"I'll bring you there later. Good talk." With that, John turned to leave.

"Bye."

[Bladehunter217]

Tilburr glances down at his blinking phone. It goes off much to often for his taste so one afternoon disabling the ring seemed necessary. He picked up the receiver and glanced at the four digit connection to see who was calling. "Good morning Mr. Henshaw, is there something I can do for you?"

"Come to my office Blair, I have an assignment for you." Tilburr hung up, knowing that John already did as well. Damn, probably shoulda kept my comments to myself last week, he's probably going to make me do something inconvenient to make up for making him look less intelligent than he thinks he is. Tilburr rubs his eyes for a moment before standing up. Putting as much purpose in his stride to not be bothered by anyone on his way.

Tapping the door twice, he strolls in, not letting anything in his body language suggest he doesn't belong. "You needed something sir?" He puts his arms behind his back and waits.

"I want you to go to the new office building and answer any questions they have. You'll be one of a few."

"Yes sir" That's it? That's all it takes for him to be satisfied? I'll be back on my routine tomorrow. Tilburr turns to leave, smiling as he gets back to his booth. This might prove an amusing detour.

[Deathkeeper]

I passed out that day. Yeah, I know that's lousy of me, but it was a slow day. And in a place like this, a slow day means that I have literally nothing to do for hours on end, because God forbid anyone thinks the intern is useful for anything. Gosh the place sucked.

But I was abruptly awakened by the thump of a stack of papers being dropped next to my head.

I jerked myself up to find John leaning against the side of my pathetically small cubicle with a grin that was only somewhat obnoxious. I couldn't ever really get mad at him much. Even when he was being an ass, at least he added some color to this dreary place. I tried to sputter a few variations of "Mr Henshaw, sir" but he waved me off.

"Relax kid, it's no big deal. Got some work for you. Pack your stuff, we need folks over at the new offices to deal with the contractors. Just go over there with the rest by noon and take some notes or something."

Wait, 'or something?' Does this guy have any idea what's going on?

"Uh, is there anything specific you want me to d-" "Nope! I know barely more about it than you do. So have fun, as far as I know you'll just be there to give the contractors a slap on the ass to get them in gear on the site. Nothing to worry about."
"O...kay then. What were the papers for?"
"Nothing, I just thought your desk seemed empty." he said, and off he strolled, as if everything was fine. Which was a lie, because the one on top actually had the address of the place, but that wasn't much.

And crap, noon was only an hour away. I'd probably need to catch a bus or a subway to get there in time. I grabbed my bag, which really wasn't much, just a small, somewhat professional looking satchel, tossed a pen into it to go with the notebook that was always in there, and went for the door.
No point in telling Lucy or anyone that I was leaving. Clearly none of them had any intention of breaking the monotony by talking to me that day.

[Sir Dancealot]

"Hey, Naomi, how's it going!" John asked, standing in the doorway of her cubicle. She titled her head in his direction, had already known he was there before he spoke, her desk positioned in the cube so that she could see out of the blue box. Hers was the only desk positioned so. She blinked at him quietly, waiting for him to continue.

"Uh, yeah. Good then? Right, anyway, I need you to go another office. Make sure their numbers are square and such. You're the best we've gpt when it comes to that, so I came to you." He fidgited a bit as he spoke, always a bit uncomfortable around the woman. She was completely immoble while he talked, staring at him with unblinking eyes the color of chipped oceanic ice. Like a small, adorable blank-faced statue that was simultaniously breathtaking and terrifying. Like standing at the egde of a great cliff, the wind howling at your back.

She nodded in accord with his terms and he grinned fown at her, slipping a piece of paper with the location on her desk, "That's where it is and wheb you'll need to be there. Well. That's about it. Good talk." He said, edging away slightly before walking off, perhaps at a slightly faster pace than normal.

She tilted her head as she walked off, then picked up the piece of paper, frowning at it as she looked it over. Dress more apealing. It said. If paper could burn with a look, the building would be crumbling to ash.

[Pallid]

This many papers shouldn't exist in one place at the same time, it could cause a singularity. His mind reasoned as he looked at the veritable wall of paperwork that glowered at him at the corner of his desk. He was pretty sure when he left the office last night that he had conquered most of it with his mighty pen, laying waste to all challengers that came at him. And yet there it was today, mocking him and his efforts and stronger then ever. It was enough to make a normal man go mad, however Oliver Marcus Collins was a man fueled by the divine mandate of getting a corner office.

“I see you've brought friends.” He said calmly looking at the paperwork with a hard glare as he sipped his coffee, before placing it aside. Just cream, no sugar, coffee was a bitter drink it should remain that way. He didn't say that people that put sugar in their coffee were evil, but he was willing to bet they bled black if cut. “However, they shall fall just as readily as you to my penmanship.” With a dramatic flourish he brought out his tools for the trade, a deep content sigh escaping him as he looked at his pen and ink kit. Soon as he was able he was going to have his own custom built for his work at home, but this particular pair was a most welcome gift from his kid sister Brittany. The pen alone he knew had to pushing upwards to a hundred and fifty dollars with taxes included, it was after all brand new model with self retracting technology in it fresh from Japan. Clocking in at a respectable one pound weight with a medium point with 0.7mm size in a charming Matte black the pen was a beauty to look at and a joy to use feeling just as comfortable in his left hand as his right. He had nearly cried when she presented him with the gift, and actually boil over when she presented the ink that she picked out for it. An odd thing to get sentimental about some would say, but his mother had always said his sister had known him better then even she did and it always showed during his birthday.

“You know Collins, our insurance covers mental leave.” The soft chuckle behind him cut him off from both his pen fawning and threatening of paperwork, and drew his attention to his boss standing behind him with his own coffee. It wasn't the first time he had been caught by the man doing something like this, and it had become a small joke between them even in the short time he had started working. Grinning he leaned back in his chair and swiveled a bit to look at John and gave a shrug.

“And deprive you of my powerful company? I wouldn't dream of it.” He joked back taking his coffee in his hand again and taking a sip of it as John mimicked his actions and sipped from his own. Mentally Oliver did quick scan of what was happening, John didn't usually come around until after the ten o'clock break and that was give him his run down of what he would be doing that day. He had already memorized it after the first week, but it was company policy and he suspected John just liked walking around and chatting with people. He wasn't going to begrudge him that, no reason to make his day more of a hassle then it was if he could avoid it. “Something wrong boss?” He asked taking another sip trying to gauge why the man had made the impromptu stop in.

“No, everything is on the up and up. In fact I wanted to invite you to take a day trip with a few of the other movers and shakers and get a behind the scenes peek at the new office.” Yes, higher up of the positive kind was stellar. Oliver didn't bother hiding the smile at the opportunity put in front of him. “Just head on over with the others and keep an eye and ear out while they go over the numbers. You in?”

“I'm your man, boss.” He paused his mental celebration short thinking about the leaning tower of paper work that cast it's dark shadow over his desk. “Um, I've got a bunch of forms though, so I'll-”

“Toss em over to Chuck, and have him take care of them.” John said with a wave nodding towards the curly red head who seemed to be shivering. Possibly being alerted to the doom that was coming to him soon. “Go ahead and get your gear together, they'll be heading out soon.” John said with a wave before carrying on with his day, leaving the young Oliver sitting there grinning into his cup. Today was going to be a lucky day, he just knew it.

[Rith]

There were reasons John Henshaw had risen as highly in this company as he had. First and foremost was his ability to get things done in very short order. The delegation was supposed to be at the new offices at noon, only three hours away when he began, and, without even breaking a sweat, he had everyone on their way by eleven, just the correct amount of time for them to arrive there on time. Granted, there was not only quite a bit of paperwork that had to be rerouted due to the trip, but a considerable amount which had been generated by it as well. That paper would probably make someone's life unpleasant for the next week or two, but John didn't care, and that was the reason he hadn't risen any higher than he already had. He didn't mind, really. He was happy on the level he was on, and kept any nagging thoughts at bay with his own little form of comedy, like his little note to Naomi. He enjoyed seeing how people would react to different things (he also enjoyed just irritating them).

Walking back to his own office, he booted up his computer and brought up his email, which contained files pertaining to this whole trip, and began texting the vital info to Blair, as he was the senior worker on this little team. First was the address, then the names, numbers, and employ numbers of the other nine people who were going with him: Oliver Collins, Henry Fitzpatrick, Naomi Lastname, Michi Bessho, Gregory Underhill, Kimberly Throttle, Chelsea King, Toby Reed, and Ontario Leatherman. Then he checked the notes regarding the new office again. Courtyard Construction Inc. He had so much trouble finding reliable records of this company. Why had the higher ups gone with them?



The roar of traffic filled the air alongside wafting clouds of concrete dust and showers of sparks from up above. The ten office workers were grouped together on the unfinished pavement just inside the "Do Not Cross" tape, waiting for the construction manager to extract himself from whatever he was doing and make his way over to them. In the meantime, they were left to admire the structure of steel, concrete, plaster, and electrical wires that reached into the sky just before them, while they concerned themselves with keeping their suits and ties tidy and free of all this excess dust.

Up front stood the mid-level manager, Eliot Tilburr. Nearby were the tall, black man, Oliver Collins, and the bored-looking intern, Toby Reed. Naomi Lastname stood like a statue near Kimberly Throttle, a short, slightly portly woman with curly, black hair and a large chin, both of whom looked slightly unhappy about something. Michi Bessho, the japanese woman, and Chelsea King, who had once been a child movie star, stood off to another side, as Canadian man with glasses named Henry Fitzpatrick lingered nearby. In the back stood Gregory Underhill, with his unkempt beard and uncombed hair, holding a binder which he was fervently flipping through, and Ontario Leatherman, a tall, painfully thin man with horn-rimmed glasses who peered over Gregory's shoulder, reading the items within the binder along with him.

They stood there for a good twenty minutes before the construction manager, a wideset man with a full head and sharply maintained beard of dark gray hair, made his way to them, a wide smile on his block of a head. "Hey, sorry for the wait. In this line of work, well, you can't always get things done when you want them to be done," he began, chuckling, "Thank you for making your way here, today. I'm Walter Riggins, and I'll be giving you all the tour today. Just for a quick overview, we've finished the three basements completely, as well as the half of the first floor which will be used as a parking garage, the nothern and southern ramps down into the first basement, also serving as parking garage, the walls and floors of the bottom four floors, half of the fifth floor, both elevator shafts, and the five stairwells, and the basic skeleton for floors six through ten. We have secure catwalks in place for today as we go up to that half of the building. Now then, if you'll follow me," he waved the group forward with another big grin.

First, he took them through the parking garages, going over all they had done to make them, droning on and on about placement of metal supports, ventilation ducts, and stairwells. It was an hour before they finished there and were about to descend into the next basement down. From the looks of things, they were going to be here all day, if he could talk for an hour about a parking garage. The air of the group of office workers was growing restless.

Henry eventually grew bored with the proceedings and stepped closer to Chelsea and Michi, speaking low, "God, this guy sure enjoys talking about cement."

Elsewhere in the group, Kimberly Throttle was texting a friend, looking down with a bored expression as she shuffled along beside Naomi. Gregory and Ontario, meanwhile, were actually being attentive, and taking notes on everything Walter tossed out at them.

As they stumped down the staircase into the next basement, however, Oliver and Toby, taking up the rear of the group, would hear something as they passed a cooling vent. It was distant and muffled, but it was also distinctly a word, "Hey!"

Naturally, the two men would pause for a moment, but in the half second of pause, it seemed that the rest of the group got too far ahead, and they were the only ones in the stairwell. Then the two men heard the voice once again, "Hey you two. Come closer to the vent."

Meanwhile, the rest of the group emptied out onto the pitch black second basement, and Walter reached over to flip a switch, revealing pillars in the distance, and dozens of tall, cement bunkers which almost looked like filing cabinets.

[lilpuppy91]

(OOC: As per instruction, I'm going to be double posting, so excuse the mess here, this first post is pretending that the GM post above doesn't exist yet! :smalleek:)

Today was going to be a terrible day, she just knew it. For starters, her week had started out terrible: she'd gotten notice of four more failed auditions, her car had died on the freeway, requiring her to pay for a rental when money was currently so tight that she was skipping dinner every other day to keep on top of rent, she'd found out that her favorite meal in the world, the chicken parmeggiano pasta from Red Robin had been removed due to it's unhealthiness (DUH, THAT WAS THE POINT), and replaced with some disgusting pesto sauce concoction that she wouldn't even feed to her worst enemy. Now, she'd received a text from her father on her phone. She didn't know what it said, she didn't open it. As soon as her phone chimed and she saw his name, she'd pulled open a drawer, slapped the phone into the drawer, and slammed it shut, then returned to work. No one appreciates being texted by their parents, especially in your mid-20s when you'd finally just managed to snip your umbilical cord, but what you have to understand is that Chelsea's father never texted her anything good. Most of the people on both sides of Chelsea's family was dead, considering that neither grandparents had given birth to a lot of kids to start with, and she had distanced herself from the rest of her kin years ago so completely that they might as well be dead.

Despite this fact, occasionally daddy dearest raised himself from the grave to text her- never to say 'Hello' or 'How's your career', or 'I'm sorry for treating you like the goose that laid the golden eggs, and spending all of your hard earned money on booze, gambling, sex, drugs, and really anything that I felt like all those years ago'. No, he only texted her with things like 'Mother was in car accident, call for details if you still care', or 'In jail, can u bail? Will pay back money'. After all that he'd done to her, you'd think she'd have the self respect to just tell him to never contact her again and block his number permanently, but the truth was, she still remembered that time when she was a little girl. Before she got old enough to see through all of his lies, to see the human sized, blood sucking, slimy leech that was wearing human skin like clothing. She'd thought her father had hung the moon and the stars, and there was no one else she'd have rather been with. For some reason, the thought of cutting him off forever was more painful than the thought of all of the ways that he had hurt her and would continue to hurt her as long as he remained in her life. She was always hoping, waiting he would become a good person.

So, she was steadfastly refusing to look at her phone, because she didn't need anymore crap this week, and besides, she'd already told him not to text her anymore, that she was too busy trying to fix her own life than to try to fix his too. But as she typed, her eyes kept drifting towards the drawer, and her mind kept wondering what if he really needed help, or someone had died, or he wanted to finally have a heart to heart with her that was 15 years overdue? She furrowed her brows and returned her mind to the screen, attempting to focus her mind, body, and soul on the inane memo sent out to everyone by Sandra, alerting everyone about common curtesy in the office, such as setting more coffee to brew if you're the one who finishes off the pot. Soon however, her mind was once again on the phone, as if it had sprouted tiny lips and were whispering 'check me, check me, check me'. With a growl of frustration, she yanked open the drawer, and angrily reached for the phone, deciding just to text Dad with a 'don't text me anymore' without even reading the message, but she had a sudden change of heart and redirected her hand past the phone to the adorable Dory stress reliever she'd bought for herself a while ago.

When you squeezed on her, dory's eyes bugged out in the most grotesque manner that was marginally horrifying for a Finding Nemo fan, but so much more satisfying that it was worth the money. Also, it was something to give to kids when they inevitably came around to bug her during Take Your Kid to Work Day, which should be renamed Take Your Kid to Work and Then Not Keep Track of Them Day. Slamming the desk shut once more (causing the phone inside to clunk around satisfactorily, she gripped Dory tightly and gave her a nice squeeze. The poor fish's eyes bugged out so badly that they looked as if they were about to pop out of her head, her little plastic mouth opened wide in a scream of terror. Yes, yes, feel the helplessness of a rat trapped in a hole with no chance of escape. Feel the hopelessness of a hamster running on a wheel for so long that she had no idea when she started and when it will ever end, but kept running regardless. Feel the-

"Having a bad day?"

Chelsea squeaked a little as she dropped the tortured fish like a kid caught red handed and looked up at the amused man peering over the edge of her cubicle. Dangit, was John some sort of ninja or what? How did he always wind up sneaking up on her like that? She wished the people who lived in the apartment above her had feet as light as John. Then she wouldn't have to wake up 50 times a night to THUMP THUMP THUMP. "I keep trying to tell people you're a telepath John, but no one will believe me." she said casually before returning her eyes to her screen and pretending to be busy, when really all she'd done today was get a cup of coffee and skim a meaningless memo. She came this close to actually winning an Oscar, you'd think she could put on a better act in front of her supervisor, but the undoubtedly maniacal smile she'd worn as she was squeezing the life out of a helpless, plastic fish would have left any effort to pretend to be just peachy moot.

"Well of course they don't believe you, I implanted the thoughts in all of their minds that you're crazy. Keep trying to out me, and you'll be looking at the looney bin." he joked, causing Chelsea to actually crack a smile. She sort of liked John. Most managers were all about cracking the whip and making sure those below you knew who was in charge and were as productive as possible. John was almost more human than robot overlord. "Well then you'll be happy to hear some good news right about now I bet." this caught Chelsea's attention. She stopped typing and looked up hopefully. "Did the lotto pool finally win some cash?" she asked, thinking that with the jackpot the way it was now, splitting it up between the 20 people who always chipped in for tickets would leave her enough to get her car fixed, and move her back up to having dinner every nights. "No- uh, well, I don't know. I don't think so, Jeremy would be hollaring his head off right about now if that was the case- no, you've been selected to go over with a group of other people to go check out the new office. Just... make sure everything's up to speed, on schedule, everything's going according to plan." Chelsea's smile had already disappeared at the no, and instead she was just staring John down with a blank expression, unsure if he was joking with her. Weren't there like... office design teams or something that did this kind of thing? What did they want to send a paper pusher like her for?

Then she realized it: if she played this thing right, she could get paid for doing absolutely nothing all day. Finally, a break in the stormy sky of this week! Suddenly there was an exuberant smile on her face. "Are you trying to butter me up so I don't turn you in to the government for being some sort of X-men? Fine, it's worked. Where do you want me to go?" John immediately handed Chelsea a post-it. "Here's the address, I'm sending you along with a couple others from the office, leave with everyone else, and... try to have fun." Chelsea snorted at this and then waved him off. She was too busy trying to keep from throwing herself in front of a bus to have fun. But she would at least have something to take her mind off of the phone in the drawer for a few hours, and that was something.

[lilpuppy91]

(Post number 2... Promise it won't be as long as the first one. That was long enough for two posts anyways. :smallsigh:)

Chelsea was glad that she'd worn her black blouse and skirt today, as opposed to the white sweater and pants with the chain she'd almost gone with. She loved that outfit, but with the weather the way it was lately, she hadn't had an opportunity to wear it in months. When she'd woken up to a slightly chilled morning, she'd been about to go for it, but then she realized it was just a pipe dream- the weather would heat up around noon, and she'd be hating herself for it. Yes, beauty was pain, but there was no reason to suffer when all she was going to do was sit in a cubicle all day, and the only compliments she would get would be the long stares of any guys she just so happened to pass in the lunchroom. So she'd gone with the black outfit, and now as she held her hand over her face to keep from inhaling enough dust and cement to fill her lungs, she was infinitely grateful. All she needed was to stumble out of this construction side looking like some sort of poor imitation of a dalmation. She'd thought that standing around, staring into space was bad, but she quickly learned her mistake when the construction manager appeared, and began to exuberantly begin the most boring shpeel about cement and concrete, and pipes and floors, that probably had ever been uttered in the entire histroy of time itself.

She would have begun to think that this was all a terrible, terrible mistake, and that she should have just kept her head down and answered the damn text from her dad, except for one little plus: Oliver had been chosen for their escapade to Boring Land. She had been pleasantly surprised when she'd arrived and seen him standing in the small group, standing out in the gathering of short, people like a giraffe in a turkey pen. She'd been caught off guard, and immediately cursed the fact that she'd just basically left the house with a 'hope I look good, because oh well' attitude. At that point, she'd began emergency operations, covertly pulling out her compact, applying make-up, chewing mint gum, and attempting even to run a comb through her wavy brown hair when she thought no one was looking. However, before she could sneak over to his side and say anything, Captain Boring arrived to save the day, and stop time with the awesome power of his endless monologues.

She was in the middle of trying to figure out how she could casually maneuver over to Oliver, who was all the way at the back of the group, without looking like she was intentionally lagging behind, when the nerdy looking canadian leaned in to whisper to her and Michi, the Japanese chick who seemed to always look about one intern playing Pandora Radio away from taking a samurai sword to them all so that she could work in peace and quiet. She smiled at Henry politely, and raised an eyebrow at him. "What, are you saying you don't have a weekly subscription to Construction Sites Weekly? What're you doing on this assignment then?" she looked over at Michi then, curious as to whether the woman would crack a smile at her joke. Then she covertly did her half-hourly check of Oliver's position, and found that he... wasn't there. Like, at all. It was like a really bad, really boring version of a haunted house movie. Had he and whats-his-face gone off to the bathroom? Were the bathrooms even installed yet in this facility? Well, they were big boys, they could take care of themselves.

She then stepped into the pitch black basement with the others, which admittedly made her a little nervous. Nothing said haunted house like stepping into darkness, but thankfully Captain Boring quickly turned on the lights, and revealed a vast open floor with no furnishings, and tall, cement pillars that looked like filing cabinets. She hadn't realized until now how creepy a high-rise was, when it was empty of furnishings or people scurrying to and fro. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she leaned in to whisper to the pair again. "Seriously, why did they send a bunch of normal office people to look at a bunch of empty, half-finished rooms? Isn't that a little unusual?"

[Hazuki]

For the most part, Michi's half-hearted attempts at adhering to the dress code of the workplace worked; something vaguely formal just so she wasn't barred at the gates. Even if it went against every fashionable bone in her body, which was almost every one of them. It was only when she was standing in the middle of an open area, alongside her co-workers who ranged from workplace-stylish to full on formal, with ties and jackets and even cufflinks for the tryhards with apartments about the width of a matchbox, that it seemed somewhat out of place. A white shirt at least a few sizes too big for her, with pockets on each utterly flat breast and a large collar that framed a perpetually bored face with a pinch of severity in the eyes. Her pants were simple black slacks that clung to her skinny little legs and led down to a pair of leather loafers, with the scandalizing hint of a black sock at the gap where shoe met ankle.

If anything, the Japanese woman looked like she was a lost little boy wearing his older brother's school uniform, and she couldn't give a damn about it. It only posed a problem when she was picking up her poison for the day, and the glare in her eyes was enough to make the man on the opposite side of the counter shut his mouth. Because that was the highpoint of her days, ever since leaving the beautiful streets of Ichinomiya; she'd replaced her mother's Fair Lady Studio, where she could spend her days among models, fellow beauticians and stylists, or simply go for a pleasant walk through the exquisite decoration and imagine what it would be like when it was her designs on the stage. She'd even achieved that dream, she'd been making the rounds among models as a talented young woman! And it was because of her talent that she ended up befriending Angelica and coming to America.

Where her palace of dreams was replaced with a cheap old store that sold booze. It was as Michi's mind traveled back to fonder memories that she reached out for the bottle of wine in front of her, only to find that she'd almost punched one of her co-workers in the back instead. An equally satisfying solution to her ills, but one that wouldn't keep her in the country long enough to stay out of international regulation limbo, where she drinks were more expensive, the beds were sticky, and the occupants were surprisingly more racist than people she'd meet in the country. Why was it that people who seemed to hate foreigners were always the ones found at airports?

Recovering her failed attempt at grasping the second-best kind of booze, the kind she could imagine and it would appear in her hand, Michi instead grasped the bottle of mineral water that she'd tucked into her pocket and pushed it up to her plump lips. She'd been gifted with a pretty face and blue eyes, the former a prerequisite for getting involved in any business relating to beauty, and the latter an abnormality that made sure her clients remembered her. It would certainly have earned her the envy of her co-workers, two of whom were currently leaning over to bother her about whatever workplace politics they deemed important, were it not for the aforementioned dressing like a little boy. Silence hung in the air as the portly woman and the less-portly woman waited for her to finish her mouthful of water, then she screwed the cap back on, then tucked the bottle back into her pocket, made sure it was safe, and finally gave a shrug with one of her shoulders.

When the tour itself began, Michi's longing for everybody around her to explode in some glorious fashion only increased. She'd thought that the trip would make work more palatable, or at least that she'd have gotten to stand in the sunlight for slightly longer, but instead it was forced interactions with people that she...didn't hate, but their exploding might create enough of a blast to get her back to Japan. Though the thought unexpectedly brought forth a recent memory that held something other than misery; the group she played with at weekends had taken to calling it Darth Michi, whenever she came up with an idea to vent her frustration in the imaginary world with something surreally sociopathic. The more esoteric member of the group, Jonty, had first called her Jubei, then realized that trying to play cute with Japanese history to the child of a Japanese historian was probably not going to end in his favor. Even if she had mostly only been interested in her father's work for inspiration in her designs.

That memory almost made her smile. Were it not for the fact that she enjoyed being miserable at work, it probably would have, but, luckily, the not-portly woman was there to whisper to her about the building site they apparently needed to investigate.

"Yes." Michi answered Chelsea. "They're trying to kill us." She added, blank-faced

[Deathkeeper]

Don't get me started on that 'tour.' A military excavation crew couldn't have done boring any better. And lucky for me, two guys decided that they were going to actually pay attention. Well, good for those schmucks, less work for me.
That guy- what was his name? I already can't remember- droned on for what seemed like hours. It might have been hours for all I knew or cared. But I just kept walking on, hoping that something would help add something to this train wreck of a trip.

"Hey."

I stopped for a moment, looking about, and the tour was already out the door. Like I cared. It came up again, pointing me to a vent. What the hell, did some worker get lost trying to reenact a Bond flick? But to be honest, what exactly else was there today that could measure up to the laugh I'd get if that was the case? And as the only weird thing to happen today, how could I live with myself if I passed this by?

So I turned and walked over to the vent, bending over a little to peer into it.

"What's going on?" was the best line I could come up with.

[Bladehunter217]

Isn't this great? A waste of time if I ever saw one. Wonder if I can get him to talk about something interesting. Tilburr takes a glance to each side, checking on the others. Naomi, Throttle, Bessho, King, Fitzpatrick, Underhill, and Leatherman. Something isn't right. There were ten of us, who were the last two? Collins and Reed. Damn it, are they clever or stupid, either way it'll be interesting how this ends.

"Mr. Riggins was it? As wonderful as this tour is, it is not the only reason we are here." Not that being here actually matters. An intern could do this alone without trouble. Not at the rate we seem to be losing members though, maybe there is safety in numbers. Tilburr laughs to himself, glancing back at the two missing members. With a double check that there were no more disappearing acts, he looks back to Walter Riggins. Throwing a smile on his face, he waves the past statement away, moving on to more interesting things.

"Tell us of the design, your plans, it is a treat to be able to see the stages before an office goes up. I hope we aren't proving inconvenient to your work." Having trouble deciding if I should slip away myself. Construction site like this one is bound to have holes.

[Sir Dancealot]

Naomi scribbled calculations on her clipboard as she walked, her look almost a glare. In fact, it looked more akin to severe disaproval, this, coupled with her new outfit, made her look a tad frightening.But, she figured that is exactly what John had been going for when he'd ordered it for her. It was a well tailored black suit with white pinstripes and a knee length skirt. She looked very much like a female mobster. Especially with the classic style Fedora she wore. Instead of a submachine gun, she carried a clipboard as her weapon of choice. And of course, her wooden pen. She never left the office without it. Especially seeing as how it was close to a three hundred dollar pen. It was a very special pen made of hand-crafted mohagany, inlaid with gold script. It was very officy.

Why exactly she had been given the suit and the pen upon her hiring, she wasn't entirely sure. The fact that she looked like a higher level executive wasn't lost on her. Why exactly John wanted her look like one was lost on her. Of course, she didn't actually know that she looked perpetually disapointed in everything.

The uneasyness she instilled in people was the exact reason she had been hired. That and her peculiar enjoyment and knack of and for spreadsheets. The only one that has thus far proved to be impervious to this uneasyness has been Luke. The man from six cubes down with his near constant side-kick Lucy. Why exactly those two wanted to crack her shell she knrw not. But try they did, and no matter how much she wanted to burst from her shell she kept convincing herself that she was happy as she was.

She finished her calculations, frowing at the paper as she did so, having been completely ignoring anyone up until now. Had the paper been alive, no doubt it would have crumpled under such an intense gaze. She'd alwaysbenjoyes mathematics, along with physics and spirituality. It was one reason she enjoyed martial arts so much, as it was physics applied to the body. In a way, it was also what drew her to culinary arts as well. The science of food. Every day am experiment of delectable portions.

Those dreams were of course, crushed. So now, she falls back on skills used in managing a resaurant. Spreadsheets, and a lot of simple calculations. Looking up, she fixed her gaze upon the construction worker and did something few, if any, of her current companions had ever seen or heard her do. She spoke.

"Tell me, why exactly this form shows the use of thirty point two seven tons of concrete and the actual usuage is twenty-eight poiny two seven tons by my calculations of density conversion and displacement. Why exactly are you missing two tons of concrete?" She asked in a pleasant voice. One could almost call it apealing, if it weren't for the icy undertone that seemingly bored right into your bones

[Pallid]

He was using a pencil to busily scratch away at the notepad in his hands, as looked over the people jotting down the information that spilled from the man during the tour. They were made for hasty notes that could be erased and redesigned on the spot after all, even if he did hold a certain disdain for them. He wasn't sure what was important and what wasn't, so he just took it all in to evaluate later when he had more time to process and cross reference. He had been told to keep an eye out, and that's exactly what he was doing. He would have liked to say he had seen the bored look in the others eyes as he went along with them, imagining them just as put out as he was about all of this, but they weren't exactly eye level for him to pass knowing glances too without making his movement known. That was the problem of being taller, it always seemed like you stood out in the crowd, and you had to avoid low hanging ceiling fans. Those things smarted like you wouldn't believe, not as much as an umbrella prong to the eye, but near enough. He knew he looked like an over eager intern as he did his notes but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. A small look of shame at the moment wouldn't matter down the road when he was placing his feet up on a nice big ebony desk now would it?

It was during that bid of scratching that he stopped for a moment, checking over his short hand notes in the corner along with the rest of it, personal questions that sprung to mind mostly, that he had heard the voice whispering from the vent. Blinking he looked around to spot the offending object, taking a look to see if anyone else had heard it too, or if he had been bored into insanity. Thankfully this wasn't the case, and he was able to follow after Toby who went over to speak with it. He didn't say anything just yet, letting Toby handle it, while he flipped to a new page and primed his pencil for more notes. People in vents qualified for a little extra investigation didn't it? And if nothing else he could make sure he brought it up to John when he got back, about the lack of safety regulations in place that people got trapped in vents.

[Rith]

Henry rolled his big, blue eyes at Michi's comment, his goofy grin spreading wide in amusement, which faded quickly after he took another look at the blue-eyed girl's expression (or lack thereof), being promptly replaced with bewilderment and doubt, "I certainly hope that's not what they're planning, and I sincerely doubt that's the case."

A few seconds passed as he shook his head, and then gave his own response to Chelsea's question, "The higher-ups probably needed to make an inspection, but failed to organize themselves halfway decently. So, at the last minute, they just tossed us]/i] all over here, hopefully getting someone to take the notes and ask the questions that a proper inspector would take or ask. From the [i]look of things," he glanced back at Gregory and Ontario, "their gamble is paying off. What I don't understand, is how anyone could possibly care this much about cement? I mean, really," he was the kind of speaker whose voice carried italics perfectly. It was almost funny to listen to him.

Walter Riggins, meanwhile, at the head of the group, was taking a deep breath to begin into another long-winded rant about this floor, when suddenly, Ms. Black and Mr. Tilburr cut across him. Blinking, the wide man turned around. Missing concrete? Future plans? Clearly he had expected to be able to continue on in his description of the structure, and was not expecting the people present to try and steer things elsewhere. It was almost as though he didn't know how to react.

After a few moments, of course, the manager regained his composure, his impressive smile returning as he first turned towards Tilburr, and replied to his request for information, "Well, for the basic skeleton of the building, we use standard structural steel, generally in pyramidal patterns which interlock tightly and act to supply the building with extraordinary resilience. Using geometric patterns we engineer hallways and floor layouts which maintain roughly square shapes in spite of the underlying triangular structure. Beyond that, we tend to try and maintain a circular symmetry in all buildings we construct, which was particularly difficult in this office building, considering that we needed to include five stairwells and two elevator shafts, but we are satisfied with our layout, which you sill see once we come up to the upper levels. Regarding the cement discrepancy," he turned to Naomi, "we possess a patented method of preparing and compacting concrete which results in higher density material than any other company can achieve. We've fully used all thirty point two seven tons allotted for each of these filing cabinets, and I daresay you may have even overestimated the thickness of the material itself. It's fairly expensive for us to produce this much of our Supercrete, but, for as much as was given for this basement, we were happy to put forward the extra effort. Needless to say, whatever records you plan to keep down here, will be secure. To elaborate on our plans, though..." he really could go on forever.



The flow of cold air grew as Toby placed his face close to the vent, goosebumps prickling across his body as he peered into the darkness. He uttered a simple phrase, part greeting and part question, in response to the voice which had issued from within the hole in the wall.

The intern's voice seemed to linger on the air for a few seconds too long, as though it were a distant hum, on the very edge of hearing. The silence seemed to hang there for too long, but just a moment before they would speak again, the voice returned, but this time, it seemed even farther away, and almost sinister, "Going? It's going around in circles, little boy. You heard me. You can't sit around on your block chairs any longer. It's past time to crawl."

Naturally, this was a bewildering and confusing series of gibberish statements, leaving the two men beside the vent blinking. Then the voice whispered, ever farther away, and lower in pitch, like some kind of distant roll of thunder, "They were committed to doing it. They ought to be committed for doing it. Maybe you will be instead. It is not yet ready to die. Maybe you'll thank me when you understand," then silence lingered for a moment, as the two men present exchanged looks. But then the voice came back, so far away and so low that it required absolute stillness and silence to make out, "Maybe you wont."

As they froze there, stock still and listening, it seemed like there wasn't going to be another word spoken, but then another voice came. This one too distant to make out clearly, but higher in pitch, and possessing something of a feminine quality. As soon as it was heard, however, Toby suddenly felt the breeze on the side of his head stop.

Glancing up, the vent he had been listening at was gone.

[Bladehunter217]

"Play nice with the other children Naomi." That was amusing, maybe I should spend today thinking up more strange questions. Perhaps today will be worth the dullness. He gave Riggins his best horrid grin with the others behind him so they couldn't see. "Don't let our strange questions distract you from your duty." The grin almost immediately disappeared, replaced by his usual bored look.

He wanders away from Riggins and looks closely at the cement. He places a hand on it to feel the cold pores. No matter what today brings, it really is going to be dull isn't it?

[Deathkeeper]

What the actual f***?

Like no, really. What the hell? There was not an ounce of sense in that past minute. Such masterful use of the Pronoun Game was nearly unprecedented. There was nothing to say, nothing to react to. I just stood there dumbfounded for a few seconds, I admit. But eventually reason has to take over, and in this case that meant repression.

I turned to the large man beside me.
"Did we hear something? Because I don't think we heard anything." I said irritably, as I reached for the doors...

[lilpuppy91]

It took a monumental show of will not to roll her eyes several times at the response to both of her conversation mates. According to four eyes and samurai chick, this was just a normal day of the week, there was nothing strange about anything going on at all. Perhaps these people got invited down to inspect half-done buildings twice a month, but when she'd signed up for a data entry job, there hadn't been any mention of building inspections. What if a key support beam collapsed from improper construction, and the whole building suddenly came down on their heads, killing all of them? That could totally happen right? Maybe? She had no idea, that's why she was the last person to be sent eyeballing empty floors full of cement columns.

Still, there was no need to be snippy about it, she was just trying to find some common ground between them all, and the best bet seemed to be 'why are we even here', and yet Michi had shut her down with a short reply. She guessed social skills weren't really required when you were boxed into a cubicle all day and only saw one another when you got up to pee or eat, but would it kill her to crack a smile once a week or pretend like she knew what the word 'cooperation' meant? It was true that she and the japanese woman had never spoken before, but the office was pretty large, and she seemed to mostly keep to herself. Now it almost seemed like she was seldom seen because she couldn't be bothered speaking. Chelsea folded her arms in response to Michi's deadpan and sent a blank expression back at her. "Well I'm glad you've made your peace with it. I'd rather not die until I get an Oscar, or at least an Emmy. Until then, anyone who tries to kill me is going to sincerely regret it."

She paused and glanced back again, noticing that both Oliver and the other guy were still gone. "Hrm... Hey, did you guys notice that we're missing two guys? Oliver, and what's his face... do you think they went off to get a smoke or something? What makes them think they can escape from this mindless drivel while the rest of us have to suffer?" she made no effort to conceal the fact that unless she was interested in jumping in his pants, she wasn't going to put in an effort to learn a guy's name. As the three of them murmured, some of the more eager teachers pets were asking actual questions about the building as if they gave a crap, and were getting actual responses. Riveting stuff, really. She realized she had two choices: Listen to this drivel until she felt the urge to throw herself through one of the holes that had yet to be filled in with windows, or else go and find out where the other two had snuck to. Maybe they found some sort of glaring imperfection they could all harp on, be satisfied they had done their duty, and then go home for the day.

She took a step from the group and raised her hand, her charm bracelet jangling as she did so. "Excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt, but we seem to have lost a few on the tour. I've seen Willy Wonka, I know how losing members is contagious, so I figured I'd just go back and make sure they didn't fall in the chocolate river we passed a few rooms back. If I'm not back in a few hours, I probably fell down the egg chute or something." and with that, she turned her back and jogged back the way they came, her black sandals clacking slightly against the pavement until she spotted the two standing around in an empty hallway and slowed down. "There you two are!" she called, approaching the men. "Appreciating the finer points of modern architecture? We were all starting to get worried we'd lost our token black guy." she said, turning to smile up at Oliver fondly. She seemed to take a few seconds to remember Oliver wasn't alone. She lowered her eyes to the other guy. "Oh yeah, you were missed too."

[Bladehunter217]

Another one already? I'll find out what they left for later and report to Henshaw if the reasons are less than interesting. "Don't get too lost, I'm not going to be left with that filing nightmare if you die on my watch. Same goes for the rest of you." Didn't even finish the sentence before she leaves. How rude of her. Tilburr sidles towards Henry and Michi. "Pleased to lose your company? Never have been a fan of her type myself. Fitzpatrick and Bessho, don't enjoy the tour too much." He continued walking, circling around each person before returning to his point in the front.

[Rith]

Riggins nodded to Tilburr with his characteristic grin as he stepped forward to examine the concrete, however, before he could even think to resume his ranting, another voice piped up. A young-looking face popping out of the delegation and comparing the half-constructed office building to Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, and announcing that she would go and find the two missing people. There wasn't enough time to even process what she had said, however, before she was gone, sprinting back into the stairwell.

A few seconds later, however, higher up the stairs, Toby and Oliver, still fresh from a very strange encounter, heard footsteps clicking on the metal stairs coming up from the lower basement. A moment later, a member of their party appeared just before them. Chelsea King, the name might linger in their memory for a moment, but that tiny detail would fade after a second, when they noticed that she appeared to have actually changed her outfit. Instead of the black blouse and skirt from before, she was wearing a white sweater and some pants with a chain attached. Not only this, but her expression was hungry and half-crazed. "There you are!" she exclaimed, "There YOU are, you big, attractive, black guy. You pretty guy, you. You're really cute, you know that? I know you're bored with this tour, so I came to be with you," she turned that strange expression towards Toby, "But I wasn't expecting company."



As Chelsea came up onto the landing where Oliver and Toby stood, her perceptions might not catch the finer details of the scene at first, but immediately after she had informed the intern that he had also been missed, she noticed it. Something was wrong here. Oliver was standing stock still and staring directly at his hand, as he used an expensive-looking pen to carefully etch out notes on the back of his hand. Looking at the notes, however, all they said was "Get a corner office" over and over again. Toby Reed, on the other hand, looked disheveled, his shirt halfway untucked, his brown hair unkempt as he paced back and forth, murmuring in apparent anger and frustration under his breath, "There's no vent here! They send me on a pointless job, and then not even halfway into it, and there's not even a vent here! Why wouldn't there be a vent here! I can't make my face cold! I can't listen for voices! How's it going? Not great, because there is NO VENT!"

[Pallid]

Oliver took a few more seconds to finish jotting down the longer version of the short hand he had taken. Odd didn't begin to describe what had just happened, appearing and disappearing vents were the stuff people saw in horror movies. And though it was a bit stereotypical of him, he quickly decided he wasn't interested in anything else that was happening there. If the vent wanted to pull it's vanishing trick then he was quite fine with letting it happen. He'd report the incident to his boss but he wasn't about to go looking for the moving vent, the moment it vanished it became another poor soul's problem.

“Not a goddamn thing.” He said dryly placing his pad back to his previous page and began making large strides to meet up with the others, then Chelsea came running back in chatting with them which made his eyes linger over to Tilburr then back to the woman. Well, that was a thing that happened he guessed. He furrowed his brows at the words that spilled out from the woman, and the crazed look in her eye. Then he took a step back and re-calculated what he knew about the woman, she seemed harmless at first just a bit quirky. But the level of crazy that was spilling out from her now quickly disabused those notions.

“Um. Ms.King, are..are you feeling alright?” It was too early to break off from the group and start dropping E-pills, and while on a business trip no less. Another time when he wasn't sure if she would start slicing him up he could be upset about the words she had thrown at him in depth. For now, escaping crazy town was the main concern of his problems.

[Sir Dancealot]

Naomi tilted her slightly as the construction worker told her she had calculations were wrong. She blinked slowly as she considered this. After a moment of consideration, she came to the conclusion that the man wasn't the most intelligent of peoples.

She Looked at the man, and spoke again. Twice in one day was quite talkative. "So, you're telling me that my calculations are wrong? Using the very numbers you gave me. So, either your company is falsifying information sent to our company, or we're paying for an extra two tons of concrete that hasn't been used when these sheets say it has." She tapped her clipboard as emphisis on that last bit.

[Hazuki]

Michi didn't so much as shrug her shoulders in response to Henry's comment of doubt, though the thought that there might have been something trying to kill them on a new construction site seemed somewhat amusing in her mind. In all of the media she'd consumed, most of it inadvertently, the horrifying things that tended to happen to horrible people were most often accomplished through ancient pacts and rituals. A haunted house, a creepy place of worship, or simply a forest that happened to be filled with spirits. Though stolen things were often a cause for spirits to attack, so perhaps the cement was made from the crushed bones of an ancient burial ground.

And that was when her thought process returned to the boring, just after the woman with delusions of grandeur and the hope of matching Michi's stoic behavior. As though that would ever work. Her eyes settle forwards again, only briefly moving over the cement bunkers and the people chatting about business things at the front of the group. Good for them, doing the job so that the rest of them didn't have to pay any attention to the tour. That was when the fellow who wore a slightly fancier tie than most of the office drudgery sidled up to her and told them not to enjoy the trip, then started circling them like he was remembering the fond days of maypole-dancing in his youth.

All the more pleasing for her, then, that she didn't plan on wandering around the unmapped, unfinished building. She intended to stick close to the group, stay quiet, and hope they were released from the sunless cage to bathe in the sunlight once again. There was a brief moment when she considered banging something loudly, to make sure everyone heard it and would come back to the group, but it wasn't worth it if it could be interpreted as her disturbing the building materials.

[Deathkeeper]

My eyes went wide as the woman burst up from the stairs. Does that mean everyone went downstairs? But something nagged me, and it wasn't just her voicing an attitude I've never seen in any coworker, let alone her. It was something else. And you can call me unmotivated, but I'm not an idiot. I do notice things sometime.

"Mr. Collins? Ms. King was wearing black when we lost the group three minutes ago. I'm not sure that's her." I said, my voice wavering in nervousness and a little self-doubt.

And that was it. That was the line that made me think I might actually be in a horror movie. Or a game of Call of Cthulu. The latter of which would suck even more. I've always preferred D&D myself, and while it's partially because D&D lets my characters by amusingly stupid things like satyr and centaur bards, it's mostly because the game has a much greater tendency for the PC's to stay alive.
...
Great, now that's stuck in my head. This is a great moment for that.

[lilpuppy91]

Chelsea's smile faded as she saw that her two rescuees weren't looking too relieved. One of them was scribbling intently on his hand (which she was just close enough to read, although even from far away, she could have told from Oliver's expression that it wouldn't be anything particularly inspiring), while the other one was ranting about lack of vents with wild eyes. She suddenly felt like she was in the middle of a scene from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. She wasn't exactly a trained professional, and in fact had only gotten a degree in literature, but it seemed to her that both gentlemen were experiencing some sort of psychotic break... simultaneously. Did that happen? She knew that certain bodily functions such as menstruation had the ability to link up between people, but she had never heard that mind snapping could be synchronized as well. "G-guys?" she asked, her expression suddenly unsure and bewildered. She didn't know what the protocol was for when your co-workers start babbling incoherently.

Other than it's probably not a good idea to touch them or get too close, lest they turn violent and start deciding they needed to create a new hole in your face. Still, it didn't seem like a great idea to leave them here by themselves. What if they ran off, or even got violent with each other? She was particularly concerned about Oliver- not because she thought he couldn't take the scrawny white intern. On the contrary, in a psychotic state, he might be able to kill the guy before anyone else intervened, and then he'd be locked away in a mental hospital for the criminally insane, or worse, the justice system would continue to prove itself to be anything but, and put him away for life for a crime he committed when he wasn't himself. So one coworker could possibly be dead, while another jailed, if she didn't handle this delicate situation correctly. Oh joy.

"Well, yes... yes, you're right, this assignment was pointless." she said, turning to the intern, who had at least said words. Perhaps being agreeable would make her seem less like something to make new holes in. "And there are no vents. You know where there are vents though? I saw some downstairs. We were just talking about how many vents there were in the basement." she said, taking a few steps backwards towards the basement, raising a hand to point her thumb back the way she came. "Do you guys want to go see them? We could... take pictures of them? Catalogue them for the boys back at the office? They all love their vents right? Might be a promotion waiting for us if we do it right?" she took a stab at Oliver's clear concerns to move up the chain of command as quickly as possible. Where had he even gotten a pen like that anyway?

She felt like she hadn't seen him with it on the way in- she'd been watching him like a hawk watched a big black sexy mouse. She hoped that if she could calmly get them to follow her back to the group, then some of the guys could help restrain the psychos while someone else called 911. As it was currently, she was at their mercy- she didn't want to make any sudden movements or noises, not even to shout down the stairwell.

[Bladehunter217]

Still at it? Why does she care so much about a little concrete mix? Two tons is hardly a problem is it? I'll have to look up how much cubic feet that adds up to. No, I'll make an intern do it later. Add in a few other trivial tasks so they don't come to unnecessary conclusions. Tilburr lets out a sigh and turns around. "Naomi, if you are suspicious of their cement usage give me a written statement later and I will file it through proper channels. If Mr Riggins is behind your missing cement which judging by how intelligent he looks, I doubt: Mr. Riggins could easily spend the entire afternoon evading the question without finishing the tour at which point most of us will be required to return to start over from the beginning. There is a time and place for direct confrontation and two tons of cement is hardly interesting enough to warrant it. In the event that you are correct someone will simply be fired and we will hire different contractors in the future." I'll have to thank her for the distraction later if she leaves it alone, this cement is enough to drive a man insane.

With a smile to Riggins, he walks over to Naomi and leans close to whisper. "As useful as being suspicious of everything is, it is often wasted when they know of your suspension. Be more tactful with your accusations. Find the right question to ask". With another pivot, Tilburr turned to Riggins beginning his request before facing the other man. "This special concrete of yours, I'm certain seeing it will help ease her mind. A sheet of numbers only say so much, sometimes you have to see something to believe it. Besides, I'm certain it makes quite the paperweight." Wouldn't it be interesting if this pointless tour saved the company an impressive check? Let's see where this goose chaise leads.

[Rith]

Riggins blinked a few time at Naomi's accusations, clearly taken aback by her failure to understand what he had just explained. Before he could speak up again, however, Tilburr stepped up and halfway smoothed the situation over, but finished by hinting that Riggins might get fired if she were correct. Bristling slightly, the wide man in his bright reflector vest and hard hat rebutted, "That is fine, sir. Though, again, I guarantee you that the only discrepancy is arising from your employee using calculations for standard concrete, and, once more, we have produced our patented Supercrete for these filing cabinets, which, using our system, allows us to compact the same weight of concrete into approximately five eighths the space of regular concrete. If you like you can step forward and examine the filing cabinets and the oddities in the structure. I'll even enumerate them if you like."

Henry Fitzpatrick, meanwhile, standing still and silent next to Michi, waited for Tilburr to pull away, straightening his glasses as the cold-looking woman and the concrete-fanatic squared off. Once they were clear, he's lean in to Michi and murmur, "Enjoy this? He must be crazy. I think that Chelsea girl might have had the right idea. It might be good to find a reason to become vacant."

Underhill and Leatherman, on the other hand, were becoming ever more interested, and the man with the horn-rimmed glasses, Ontario, looked poised to step up himself and examine the reinforced cabinet. Maybe he was really was interested in this Supercrete, or, more likely, maybe he thought that if he had enough info he might be able to figure out how it's made and make some money from it. Gregory, on the other hand, might just be more interested for lack of anything else interesting in his sad little life.



Up in the stairwell, Toby and Oliver went wide eyed at the strange transformation that had overcome their coworker, and voiced some concern, stepping back. The cute, youthful-looking girl appeared confused for a few seconds, but then took a step back of her own, her expression switching from wild hunger to mild confusion and fear. She appeared more sane now, but such a rapid switch for apparently no reason was itself disconcerting, and she began speaking again, "Hey, let's go downstairs. Downstairs! Wooo! Downstairs! There are people down there and they're full of answers. Let's get some answers!"



However, up in the stairwell, Oliver was stepping back, an expression like a lost little boy appearing on his face, and a single word escaping his lips, "Huh?"

Toby, on the other hand, went to the other extreme, his voice rising and his back straightening as he turned to face Chelsea and shout, "Who are you! Why are you dressed like that!? What is this!?"

[Sir Dancealot]

Naomi almost frowned. Almost. But that would have required feeling annoyance. Or any feeling for that matter. But feelings were for those people that had lives. How anyone around her felt anything at all was baffling. So, instead, she looked even more disapointed. The fact that that was even possible was at the very least mildy impressive. She leaned in towards the man, Tilburr was it? And lowered her voice as the hard hatted idiot refuted physical evidence. That his very company had supplied them. "There's twenty thousand tons of their supercrete that has been filed as used, however, there is only the 280k or so tons that have been registered in the building of the site. So, based of of the papers I was given, there's a whole floor missing."

If nothing else could be said about this day, then one could say that Naomi was opeing up quite a bit. Even if the chill of her voice dropped the temperature around her by a few degrees, she was talking! Not something that she'd been doing much lately. Not even to Poof, who she usually told the woes of her day to as she cooked the both of them dinner. Come to think of it, Poof had seemes a bit more worried about her lately. Maybe she should start talking to him again...

[Deathkeeper]

I was so confused. Now she was talking like some cheerleader stereotype? Oh, geez. At least this can't be CoC then. If it was she'd have just killed us on the spot. But there are plenty other horror games to choose from, so I can still keep my pre-horrible-death speech prepared about how my hypothetical player should have picked a less sadistic game since I would have likely stayed alive far better as some cheery adventurer with hooves than as an apathetic intern with paper-cuts.

I have really weird means of coping with stress, okay? Maybe it made me more likely to think some woman showing up with a completely different wardrobe and sudden mood-swings might be something supernatural instead of just people being insane, well sue me. And it was weird. Downright creepy. So yeah, I wasn't actually believing any of those idle thoughts, but keeping something rattling around in my head helps to make sure I don't overreact to things.

Which means that I was only slightly freaked out by all of this instead of boarding the Nope train by running out of the stairwell and straight out the front door.

"My parents always told me not to go with strangers to their basement. What do you think, Mr. Collins?" I said. It was probably a pretty lame joke, but whatever.

[Bladehunter217]

Tilburr smiles and whispers back to Naomi. "Since your so good ad finding discrepancies, you can feel free to find that missing floor. Maybe its hidden in one of these rows. I don't know where they hid the crete and I don't really care but asking Riggins won't get you anything. If you're looking for the answers you need, ask a worker or ever one of the drivers for the cement trucks. Find out how much is in one then how many trucks have delivered crete and maybe you'll track down some proof. Chances are he's too stupid to know something is wrong or smart enough to not let anything slip. A bit of paperwork will only get you so far. You track down someone who will slip and admit wrongdoing and then your puzzle will be solved. If you do find something else, let me know, I'd rather not let Riggins or whoever os trying to take our bosses money know we are on to them until it is too late." He stood back at his full height, content with the conversation.

"Let me know if you notice anything else, we wouldn't want Mr. Riggins to be stinging us anything else would we. Don't worry Mr. Riggins, I'm certain things will sort themselves out in time. A few days from now we'll be laughing over a bottle of scotch. We will still look into this, just formalities of course, can't risk her being correct. " He offers a reassuring smile and looks at the rest of the group. "Anyone else ready to continue the tour and go home?"

[Sir Dancealot]

Naomi blinked politely. Or at least what she thought was politely. To most people, it would just be a slow blink of annoyance. Not actually listening past 'how much a truck carries and how many have delivered', (Mentally paraphrased of course. His actual words were much too droll.) she began flipping through the papers on her clipboard. Nodding as she found the right one, she circled two numbers, and then waited for the man to finish his spiel. No doubt it held no real importance.

Not like anything they did held any real importance, but such was life.

Once he was done, she tapped his elbow, holding the piece of paper with the two circled number out for him to take. The numbers circled were of the current number of truck deliveries, and the total mass of delivered concrete. Naomi simply Looked at Tilburr silently, waiting for the man to take the proffered paper.

[Bladehunter217]

"So John did think about who to send." Tilburr takes the paper and checks the numbers. "That's a start." Too bad I'm going to have to make certain she is correct. At least I'll have something to do with my time here. He passes for a moment to consider the two numbers before holding out his hand. "If you wouldn't mind, I would like to see it all."

[Rith]

Riggins frowned as the representatives from their employer huddle together and buzzed quietly to one another like gnats. Walter might enjoy his work and smile a lot, but he wasn't a fool. He could easily look at their expressions and discern what they were talking about. It was difficult with the girl dressed like a mobster, but he could still figure it out easily enough. He was a manager after all, and had learned to detect thoughts of dissent from miles away. And here he had wanted to give this delegation a nice, warm, happy welcome, keeping himself fairly clean and putting on his best smiles, but he hadn't wanted to have to herd a bunch of suits and ties around his work site for hours on end. Then, as soon as they get two floors in, they began questioning his ability to keep track of his own supplies, questioning his ability as a manager. They won't accept that they made have made a clerical error on account of his company having a method of using these supplies which they had not factored into their calculations. No, they just put their heads together and whisper and connive in their unfounded distrust of him, just to stand back up and give him a ****-eating smile and tell him that they'd be laughing over a bottle of scotch. Walter Riggins was a recovering alcoholic! Tilburr couldn't know that, obviously, but Riggin's upset mind did not process this bit of info, and instead, he walked past the group towards the stairwell, "I believe this tour has been extended long enough.

However, halfway up the stairs, he came into contact with the party lingering there. Chelsea King, standing at the top of the stairs (getting NPC'd by the DM) looked back with a worried expression, whispering, "I don't know what's going on."

Meanwhile, Oliver Collins, the tall, black man (also being turned into a NPC) looked at Walter with dazed confusion, before glancing back to Toby and speaking, "Are there more people?"

Toby, in the meanwhile was sneering and taking a step back, "They're crazy..."

Walter, a foul expression occupying his usually grinning face, snapped, "What the hell is going on here?"



Oliver looked poised, ready to respond to Chelsea and Toby, when, suddenly, Walter Riggins appeared behind her, dressed exactly the same, but now carrying a march leader's baton and high stepping like he was actually leading a parade. This odd appearance was off put by his caricature of a frown on his face. Oliver, starting at this, turned back to Toby and asked, "What is this? Do you think they've all gone insane? Could something downstairs be doing it?"

But Walter cut across in that instant, booming in an opera voice, "GO AWAY!"

[Bladehunter217]

Three people acting strange after walking down a stairwell? That is rather unusual. A prank? No, they aren't the type to pull one and while King acted like she knew Collins, when she went looking for them she completely forgot his name. Maybe some kind of hallucination? They can't all be doing drugs and no way in hell did they go crazy at the same time. Best stay away from them in case it's some kind of disease or they are planning a prank for when you get close. Tilburr lets out all the air in his lungs and takes a few steps back, letting Riggins be an experiment for his theory of a disease or prank. Once near the back of the group and slightly light headed, he stops and breathes in. "Ms. King, are they alright? Mr. Collins and Mr. Reed, what are you doing down here?"

[Deathkeeper]

I admit, I had a little bit of a breakdown at that point. Just a little bit.
My eyebrows furrowed, and my hands started trembling as they balled up into fists.
"You know what? No, screw that. I don't know what kind of drugs you're serving up down there, but clearly someone needs to drag all of you out of there before there's only one official person left plus the intern to give a report, because I am not getting stuck with that paperwork!"
I said, angrily storming down the stairs past Sergeant Loudmouth.
Not gonna lie, I realized it was really, really stupid after only a few stairs down, but I didn't want to go back and turn around after that display.

[Sir Dancealot]

Shrugging, Naomi handed over the clipboard. It was about here that Naomi stopped caring. Well, cared less anyway. Afterall, the tools of her job had been taken away, and if she didn't have her tools, how was she supposed to do her job? Not that she minded not doing her job. In fact, if she didn't do her job all week that would be fantastic. She'd have more time to snuggle Poof and read. And who doesn't enjoy a good book? She'd tried playing video games a few months before, but she just couldn't focus on them anymore. She'd once been an avid gamer, but now, her computer has been off for close to four months. If it had feelings, no doubt it would have felt lonelyness.

She blinked a couple of times, coming out of a daydream about swords, sorcery, and talking animals. It seemed that whilst in her fanciful illusions, most of the group had wandered off. Leaving that guy with the F name and... Was that a girl? Ah. Of course. That one asian woman that Luke had told her about. Apparently F-man was trying to hit on her. From what she heard, that probably wouldn't work out too well.

It was about then that she realized something was a bit off about the place. So, she voiced her concern, "Why are all the filing cabinets made out of concrete?" She wondered aloud, her voice losing its icy edge in liu of genuine surprise.

[Hazuki]

Michi casually glances around as the argument in front of her continues, and yet more people leave the basement of concrete file cabinets for the wonderful world of unfinished floors. Whatever it is they find fascinating, the woman can't see it, although it's clear that everybody else seems to be very passionate about what they're doing. As she folds her arms to watch the highest-ranking member of their visitor's crew leave up the stairs, the male who kept talking to her decides to keep up with his long-standing tradition of ignorance and mutters some gibberish about something she's sure he finds relevant. If only there were some way to casually brush somebody off while saving face...

"Cool story." Elegant. For a moment, she's freed from the cage of conversation and feels the still wind of the basement rush through her hair. Until the argumentative lady ahead starts talking to herself and Michi begins to think that somebody in this group is already going crazy. She looks over the nobody that's present, wanders over to one of the cabinets, then lifts her foot up and gives it a firm shove.

[Rith]

Downstairs, Michi had given an experimental push to a filing cabinet, just to find that the cement is was crafted out of was heavy, anchored to the floor, and was very chilly. Very solid in construction, which a filing cabinet did not exactly need to be. If she were to slide a drawer open, she'd find that the door, also crafted from concrete, with a stainless steel handle, would not budge, being very firmly locked in place, with no visible keyhole. Passcards or an electronic switchboard, perhaps? If that was the case, it wasn't anywhere within her line of sight, so maybe Naomi ought to go hunting for them. Maybe she could find that missing floor along the way.

Meanwhile, Fitzpatrick had been blown off by Michi. That didn't make any sense. He had been talking about how the trip had been lame, which was about the only apparent thought that Michi was even indirectly expressing at the moment. Yet she expressed dismissal of what he had been saying? This had been the first time the two had crossed paths. Michi was dismissing him... The only reason he could think of was that she was dismissing him because he had talked to her. Poor girl. Must have such low self esteem. Well, the bespeckled Canadian wasn't going to go run up to the group, especially considering that he actually thought the tour was a waste of time, and instead shrugged and diverged from Michi wandering off into the rows of filing cabinets, seeing what he could find.



In the stairwell, an already frustrated Walter Riggins found himself faced with a crazed man, the intern Toby Reed, staring staring at him with an intense look and saying, "You're crazy and I'm not getting landed with that paperwork!" Just to try and charge past the now baffled construction manager, but didn't even get two steps before Riggins gripped him by the scruff of the neck, and pulled him back. After a split second of struggle, Walter won out and shoved him back up onto the landing, just for Collins to grab Reed and, in an almost sane tone, spoke, "Don't do that, Mr. Reed. It's a bad idea."

Riggins, blinking, looked back to Ms. King, just as Tilburr asked his question, and decided to add his own, "Were they like this when you got here?"

Chelsea looked uncertain for a moment, then spoke up, "Yeah, when I got here, he was talking about missing vents, and he was writing on his hand. I don't think they're okay, no. I wasn't sure what to do, so I was trying to bring them down to you."

Walter nodded, "Uh huh, well, we're going upstairs, so someone here should call an ambulance. Maybe, they'll be waiting by the time we get these two up top. I don't want them lingering on my construction site any longer than possible."



Toby tried to rush past Riggins, with his marcher's baton, and caught a glimpse of the other four behind him. Kimberly, looking sad and watching her cellphone, Gregory, looking even more disheveled that usual, Tilburr, who was moving between a friendly grin and a sneer at fairly quick speeds, and Ontario, who looked strangely fatherly, in contrast to his usual, anal self. However, Riggin's baton caught him by the neck and throttled him back onto the landing, just for Oliver to catch him and say, "Mr. Reed. If something down there is affecting them, going down there yourself is a bad idea. It could be some kind of airborne hallucinogen. We should call in a material disposal unit. Or anyone with biohazard suits for that matter."

Tilburr's voice floated up the stairwell, "Mr. Collins, Mr. Reed, are you crazy? Ms King, are they crazy?"

Walter then looked to Ms. King and boomed, "Did you make them go crazy or were they already crazy when you got here."

King only replied, "They're crazy."

Walter looked back towards the two men with menace in his eyes, "Call some special vans to take them away, then." Then, after a split second of silence which felt like far longer, his expression turned darker, and he boomed again, "GO AWAY!"

[Bladehunter217]

"Mr. Riggins, could you please not manhandle my underlings. I'll dial an ambulance, let's try to bring them upstairs." Tilburr slowly takes out his phone and closes his eyes, dialing 911. "Yes, I have two employees that seem to be on drugs, they haven't been responding to much and are acting unusual. I'd like an ambulance outside just in case something happens." Great, now I'm calling an ambulance and have to deal with hell amounts of paperwork.

[Hazuki]

Michi watches the anchored and impenetrable concrete cabinet for a few more moments, glancing around at the barren and boring area surrounding the last three co-workers. Though the area is filled with wonder and whimsy, she sees nothing else that she can interact with in the hopes of staving off her boredom, so she takes another sip of her water bottle and watches what the confrontational suit-wearing woman does next.

[Sir Dancealot]

To be honest, Naomi had no idea what to do. She didn't have her clipboard, and she didn't particularly want to go back upstairs. From what it sounded like, it seemed there was some sort of altercation going on up there. She couldn't really hear much more though. Her only option then, was to wander about examining things, but then, curiosity killed the cat didn't it?

But, she wasn't a cat, she was a human, and she kind of wondered what death would be like anyway, so she wandered about the room for a bit, poking at filing cabinets, looking behind them, not particularly sure what to do. Her characteristic look of disapproval had been replaced by curiosity, softening her features as she poked about. She'd obviously forgotten other people were indeed down there with her.

[Deathkeeper]

My eyes went wide. Oh no, oh no oh no. These weird almost-people are not taking me to their version of the loony bin. This was all too much, and it was all just so...off.
I felt bad, but I couldn't help but pass some of the responsibility. I mean, having other people around is supposed to help with decisions, right?

"Mr. Collins, they're all wearing different clothes than before. There's no way they changed that fast, and there's no way that Walter would suddenly be sing-shouting and no one find it odd. Either we're tripping out or this isn't what it's supposed to look like. So I highly recommend you let me go and we either run for the door or we go down to get to the bottom of this, but there's no way standing here is a good idea." I said, somewhere between forceful and pleading.

[Rith]

"There might have been some kind of airborne hallucinogen coming out of that air vent," Oliver supplied, as he turned his back on the rest of the group, almost shielding Toby from them, "We might actually be tripping out. The only thing is that I feel very lucid right now, and you don't feel lucid when you're tripping. Besides, why would you seem sane to me? It might be some kind of drug I've never had before, but at the same time... I think something weird is in fact going on here. I'd like to go downstairs to see if anything is up down there, but I don't think the carnival is going to let us past. That leaves us with the option of going up, and telling someone else about these nutjobs. Either the rest of the world is still same and we call some people to help them, or it's in our heads, and we'll be able to tell at that point. Either way, I don't think we have to resist them. If anything, we should try and persuade them to come with us calmly."

He paused for a minute then, allowing Mr. Reed to react. However, a painfully thin face with horn-rimmed glasses appeared by Mr. Collins shoulder just then. Ontario Leatherman, the uptight bureaucrat of the group. He looked different now, like someone's dad, instead of the perfect-pencil-pusher that he usually was. With a smile, he spoke, "I don't know if you two are okay, but everyone wants to get out of the basement, and if you're not okay, we should be going that way anyways."



Oliver Collins turned his back towards the rest of the group and started murmuring to Toby Reed, secretively, Walter narrowed his eyes at this, and was about to step forward when a thin hand patted him on the shoulder, and there was Ontario Leatherman looking down at him, even though he was a full step lower on the stairs, "If I may, I'd like to try and speak to them," he said with a characteristic twist of his lips.

Walter thought about it for a moment, then allowed the tall man by, allowing him to go across the landing and starting talking to the pair. It wasn't heard what was said, as Walter turned back to look at Tilburr and asked him, "Do people often go insane in your office, sir?"



Downstairs, Naomi was meandering through the rows and rows of concrete filing cabinets, looking for something, anything, which she could find. Anything that might seem out of place. A little ways behind her was Michi, the boyish japanese girl, watching Naomi. Fitzpatrick had gone off in a different direction, and for a while, there was nothing to find, and nothing to comment on, but after a little while, the girl with the pale eyes heard what sounded like a filing cabinet door slamming off to her left. Michi heard it as well, but to her, it was much fainter, and she did not see the light which Naomi saw. Stepping a little closer, the confrontational woman would notice that this odd, blue light seemed to be coming from the ground. Stepping even closer, she would be able to piece together that the light was coming from a hole in the ground where a filing cabinet usually would go.

Before she could take another step closer, however, the light flickered, and was suddenly gone, and, in the much dimmer fluorescent lights up above, there was a figure there now, bending over the filing cabinet which had been missing. A figure wearing what looked to be a brown tweed suit with gold chains hanging from the pockets she could see. Michi, on the other hand, saw none of this. All she saw was Naomi, reacting to something which she could not see.

[Deathkeeper]

"Yeah, sure." I said to Collins. "Worst comes to worst we just head up and then back down at some other stairwell." I suggested. But I couldn't help but sigh. This was already just too flipping much.
And then what's-his-face placed himself in front of us. Oh yeah, Ontario. I remember it because his first name doesn't sound like a person's name and his last name sounds like a joke.
"Sure, I'd hate to cause trouble." I said to his suggestion. Was it just a little bit sarcastic under the pleasant tone? I didn't even know, so I doubt if he did. And if he did well, that's just weird.

[Sir Dancealot]

Naomi idly wondered why she was here. She was, effectively, a secretary. In a large stack of concrete filing cabinets. Which were underground. Yep. Most definitely not odd. She wondered how po-

Was that a light? Obviously out of place, she moved towards it, not even noticing the smalle woman following her. Legitimately frowning this time, with wonder in her eyes, she watched to blue light disapear, a man in a tweed suit appearing suddenly.

Yep. Odd. So, she stepped up and poked him.

[Hazuki]

Michi watches Naomi poke thin air.

[Bladehunter217]

"Can't say I've had anyone go insane on me recently. Mr. O'lein was the last one, had a small mental break and robbed a convenience store for about seventy dollars. Unless you count Ms. Hall but she was already on anti-psychotics. We didn't know at the time, partly how she managed to stop taking them without anyone noticing." Don't feel like including anyone from floor eight, I'm certain they only hire people to work there if they seem crazy at the interview. "Be my guest Mr. Leatherman but if they get any worse after conversing with you, you can expect an indefinite suspension while we try to sort out what caused this."

[Rith]

As Michi watched the other girl in the basement with mild interest, she noticed that she had paused all of a sudden, looking in the direction of what might have been a door slamming in the distance. However, even as the shorter woman tried to look to see what Naomi saw, she couldn't make out anything there. Even when the girl made her way forward towards a random spot in the basement, there was still nothing to be seen there. She watched as Naomi reached out with a finger, and seemed to poke empty space. Yet it almost looked like her finger bent backwards slightly with the poke, in a way that only touching something solid could result in.

But that wasn't possible. There wasn't anything there...

Even as she thought about how this was impossible, she saw it. Where Naomi had poked was now a large, dark blob which, even as she stared after it, came slowly into focus.

The figure straightened up as Naomi poked it, still facing away, but showing the back of a head covered in shiny, raven-black hair, even as something heavy was dropped back into the filing cabinet, just for it to be slid shut once more with a click in the silence. Whoever this was, they had been very solid, and was a full foot-and-a-half taller than Naomi.

Suddenly, the figure in the tweed suit spun around, and Naomi realized, it hadn't been black hair, but black feathers. A giant raven head rose up from the collar of that tweed suit, a long, shadowy beak turned to the left to allow a single beady eye to lock in on Naomi. Turning it's head to the other side and looking at her with an alternate eye, a talon projecting from a sleeve of the suit came up and straightened the bird's tie, while the other talon-hand pulled a gold pocket watch out of a breast pocket and flicked it open. Glancing down at it, the bird blinked, and looked back at the woman before it. It stepped forward and words seemed to form in Naomi's mind, "You're early. I wasn't expecting you until after the building was finished. My preparations are not yet complete. Why are you here?"

Michi saw all this, but did not hear the words.



Up in the stairwell, Ontario Leatherman patted the two men in the shoulder and grinned even friendlier, "Good good. Let's get up to the surface, then. Maybe we can get some help for you two."

And with a wave to the rest of the group, they were chased up the stairwell into the first basement, and then back into the blinding afternoon light. The scene looked just about the same, but now, it seemed like there was a lit less cement dust in the air, and most of the workers present seemed to be all on break, just sitting around and not doing anything to build the building. One man was holding a hammer and just banging it against a finished wall, while another was using construction supplies to build what looked like a wooden carving of a dog.

Looking about, there was an ambulance sitting there, lights flashing, with a few construction workers standing around and staring at it. The back doors were open, and two paramedics were standing there. One looked bored, focusing on something on his iPhone, while the other was walking forward with a nutty smile on his face, saying, "Hi hi. I hear you two are acting crazy. If that's so, you should come with me. Come on, our van is really comfy," and with that, he placed a hand gently behind Toby Reed's elbow and guided him forwards toward the ambulance.

Oliver Collins, on the other side of the intern leaned forward and whispered, "It definitely has to be something wrong with us... either that or the entire world has gone crazy."



After a few more whispers, Ontario Leatherman leaned back from the two crazy men and, turning his terse expression back to the rest of the group, gave a curt nod, and they were off, heading back up through the parking garage, and then into the dim light of an overcast afternoon. Everything was just as it had been before, except that, now, there was an ambulance sitting at the edge of the street, a single construction worker standing there, about to offer help. They had apparently just arrived, as one of the two paramedics was just leaving the van, and approaching the group of office workers emerging from the basement. Placing a hand gently behind Toby Reed's elbow, he began guiding him towards the ambulance, speaking calmly to the man who was still murmuring and spouting out random, stressed words, "There there, calm down now. It's going to be okay. This way, towards the van. My name's Philip."

As the paramedics led the two men away, Walter Riggins turned back to Tilburr and offered his hand, "Well, it was nice to make your acquaintance. I hope you enjoy delivering your report. Do you need any help getting transportation? Wait... where is..." he had just noticed that Naomi was missing.

[Hazuki]

Michi's head gently tilted to the side as she watched Naomi poke her finger at nothingness, quietly having suspected the woman of being somewhat ditzy as soon as she'd started to stare at the lack of something. Given the attitude of the first co-worker to interact with her within the walls of the building of boring bastards, it wouldn't have surprised her to learn that the suited woman was simply pretending to poke something. Perhaps there was a disturbance in the air that her spreadsheets had detected, or however it was those things were meant to work.

That's when the blob started to appear, and the young woman had to re-focus her eyes a few times just to make sure she hadn't been staring at a light for too long. Her hand hung waiting low at her waist, and her fingertip brushing over the cap of the familiar water bottle, she looks the bird-in-the-business-suit up and down, eyes flickering up to the filing cabinet that it closes with a hefty thud. Nothing could open the filing cabinets, that she'd seen, and that fact raised more of an eyebrow than it should have.

Perhaps its mundanity was what made her focus on it. Her mind could conquer how to open a filing cabinet in a particular way, but not the biology of anthropomorphic ravens and where they get their tailoring done. She watched the talons close the filing cabinet, before a glimpse of gold stole her attention and she watched the creature flip open what seemed to be a pocket watch. The small woman's head tilted a little more, her face still quite stoic at this, as she decided that getting a look at that pocket watch was probably going to be a good idea. An antiquated device, and another artifact of normality that she could choose to focus on.

Walking as casually as her curiosity would let her, Michi moved away from the row of cabinets she was lurking around to a point behind the bird, going on her tiptoes to get a look at the face of the pocket watch.

[Deathkeeper]

I stopped at the sight of the van. And right there, absolutely right freaking there, something snapped. The last remnant of giving a crap went out. This was officially too surreal for me to honestly believe that this was all reality. People don't spontaneously go insane. And people don't share drug trips. Which means that in some sense, I don't think this was just me and Oliver having a bad day.
"How the bloody hell did this ambulance get here by now? It's been thirty seconds. People don't share trips, Collins. And they don't go spontaneously insane. And if I a, well, then I haven't a single thing to lose, now don't I?" I said, actually pretty calmed down by the confidence of my theory, and I stood up straight and stared the medic in the eye.
"I'm terribly sorry, but we're not acting crazy at all. Walter was screaming though, you should go check him out instead of us. Pardon me though, I seem to have forgotten something important back there." I said, and I made a move I hadn't made in ages. Not since high school have I needed to dodge someone's grip, but I went back to that practiced spin with ease, turning around Collins to put him between the only person in my way as I moved towards the building. The workers were all doing their own thing, and Walter had his back turned. We were barely out of the building; unless these people moved at superhuman speeds there's no way that they'd react fast enough to move and catch up to me before I made it back to the stairwell doors. They weren't far at all, and I was going to find out what the hell was going on down there if I had to jump down those stairs.

Well, I tried, but the bastard was just too fast for me. I panicked. I aimed a simple little kick at his foot, hoping just a little bit of pain would make him let go. I mean, I wasn't going to actually punch him. He was just doing his job, assuming he's a real person and not some weird fantasy thing. And a little hit wouldn't be so damning, but legitimately attacking a person sure would be.

And besides. They already thought I was mad. Unless I hurt someone, there's not much worse I could make that image, now could I?

[Bladehunter217]

Yes, I know they are missing. I intend to track them down now that those two are out of the building. As for the rest of you." Tilburr turns to anyone else who actually followed them up and isn't crazy or Riggins. "Get back to the office and if Henshaw asks, tell him everything that happened. Also give him this and tell him Naomi is suspicious of the supercrete and that Tilburr is looking into it." With a silent sign for himself, Tilburr turned back and walked to where he had left the two woman.

[Sir Dancealot]

Naomi blinked. It was quite obvious that she was dreaming now. After all, nowhere else would a Birdman be talking to her. She sighed internally in amusement, and smiled externally, her body relaxing. She had a beautiful smile when she wasn't trying, and right now, she was trying. She felt safe in her dreams. Safe enough to smile, maybe even laugh.

"Ah, I'm terribly sorry. I was brought here for something of a meeting. It went poorly so I decided to take a quick look around." She replied pleasantly. She had to admit, the birdman was a tad creepy. But, her imagination could do that sometimes. "I actually don't know what exactly what I'm early for unfortunately. Due to it being so early, I doubt I had yet to be informed. Bureaucratics, I'm sure you understand. What might I call you?"

[Rith]

The bird/man listened politely as Naomi spoke, spinning up some gibberish about being so early that she had not yet even been told what was going on. Such an insane lie might even have worked, considering how insane the situation at hand was. However, even as she spoke, she could tell, the entity which she was assuming to be a figment of her imagination, was doubting her. Words seemed to come to her mind once more, "I know more of bureaucratics than you could ever fathom, little human, but this place, it's crucial. Only those who are meant to be here are allowed here. If you don't know what it is, then you shouldn't be here. Thus, you shouldn't be allowed, Clicking it's pocket watch closed with a stiff, birdlike motion, he pocketed it again, "why shouldn't I enact a punishment?" and cocked his head to center that eye back onto the woman. However, due to the nature of a bird's head, with one eye on one side and the othe eye on the exact opposite, when he turned to focus on Naomi, he caught an eyeful of Michi sneaking up behind him.

Jumping in a strange manner, like a crow hopping around on the ground, he went over a single filing cabinet and turned an eye to Michi, then to Naomi, and back again, switching between the two women with rapid speed, such that, in combination with his talon/hand going back up to his tie repeatedly, he seemed agitated. It seemed he wasn't equipped to handle two people. Either that, or something else was upsetting him. He stood there in tense thought for a few seconds, giving Naomi and Michi a split second to notice one another, and Michi to realize what she had seen with her glimpse of the pocket watch. It hadn't been a clock, but a picture. A door to what looked like an office in the building where she worked.

After a few seconds, the bird almost seemed to give off an aura of "This is not good!" Letting out an awkward 'caw', he dashed off to his right, and shot across the basement, attempting to leave the girls behind.



The paramedic with his arm at Toby's elbow seemed to anticipate the spin move before the intern even attempted it, his grip closing down on the arm. However, before he could get a truly secure grip on the man, a well-placed kick to a shin distracted him, and Toby was able to wrench free. Oliver Collins looked on the verge of a panic at this, "No, Toby, don't! You're just going to make the situation worse!" But Toby was already gone, sprinting across the work sight, past the groups of workers lazing about, earning one last shout from Oliver before he was back in the parking garage, "Don't make me face this by myself!" It was too late, however, as, running, Toby was only two minutes from being back in the stairwell, and then down, people chasing him were shouting insane things after him as he ran, but then, as he reached the landing onto the basement floor he had never seen before, he saw a flurry of black feathers in brown tweed erupt from the door, and vanish, just as quickly, down the stairs, towards the last basement.



"I think I'll accompany you to find your missing employees, Mr. Tilburr," Riggins responded icily, "We don't want anyone getting lost, after all."

The others in the group who had made it back up to the surface were accepting of Tilburr's instructions. Kimberly, Gregory, and Ontario all nodding, looking glad to be instructed to leave what had been the most unsettling trip ever. Concrete, drama, and insane coworkers. Yeah, loads of fun.

Then Toby went violent, thrashing at the paramedic and kicking his leg repeatedly until he fell back, allowing the intern to escape, sprinting through the construction site towards the parking garage. Riggins belowed, "STOP THAT MAN!" and set off jogging after him, but, the other construction workers were too slow on the uptake to catch him before he was in the parking garage, and a group of men chasing him was formed, including Riggins, the paramedic, and several workers.

Upstairs, Oliver was being guided to sit in the back of the ambulance, but was shouting random things, such as "No!" or "I'm scared!" or "Come back!" Meanwhile, Kimberly, Gregory, and Ontario, were still busying themselves with vacating the scene. Gossip would soon be filling the office building about Toby and Oliver going insane.

[Sir Dancealot]

Huh. Wierd dream. They weren't usually this lucid. Nor did they usually involve Birdmen things. As far as she remembered. It wasn't as if she had eaten anything particularly strange last night either. Just a simple smoked duck sandwich with a garlic mayo, herb roasted tomato and peppers on freshly baked, seasoned ciabatta bread. It wasn't even that fancy! Just some leftovers she threw together on the bread she'd made earlier that day.

Plus, the woman across from her wasn't even naked! What was that about? In fact, now that she thought of it, nobody im this dream was naked. The simple fact must be that this dream is lame. Sighing she shook her head, watching the birdmanthing go debating chasing after it. She looked over to the woman near her. Probably a woman near her, "So, uh, are we supossed to chase it or something? I don't usually have actiony dreams with clothed people. Or birdmanthings for that matter."

[Deathkeeper]

Crap. I really thought Oliver would be smart enough to have taken that speech as a hint of what I was going to do. Idiot. I couldn't exactly go back for him. If I'm wrong, he'll be fine; we're just nuts. If I'm right, then going back is suicide. Maybe Oliver being passive will buy him some time. Maybe if I got to the bottom of it all I could break him out from afar?
It was wishful thinking at best, but I was too busy sprinting for all I was worth. I wasn't letting those psychos catch me. No no no, if I was going down I was going to go down knowing full well that there was nothing else I could have done or tried, that I had-
wait what the hell was that?
That was a suit, but were those feathers? The hell?
It was only making me want to get down there more. I had even more excuses! So without further ado, I kept running down the stairs. Too bad the rail wasn't smooth or slick enough to do the power-slide down. For now, only running.

[Hazuki]

Michi took a half-step backwards the moment the crow-man leaped up into the air, big blue eyes flickering to the spot where he had concealed his pocketwatch, then up to the tie he constantly fidgeted with. She stared at it for the few moments that it seemed to simply sit there, tense and evaluating with its beady black eyes, before startling slightly as it dashed off down the cabinet-lined hall and she watched the last of its improbably human suit slip out of her sight. She was just about ready to stop using the pocketwatch as an anchor, to let the idea that a well-dressed servant of Velka had wandered into her life, when the inevitable reality of her life struck with the voice of a co-worker.

The one who'd challenged the building manager and decided to start skulking around the cabinet-lined area, and one whose blissful ignorance of everything seemed to strike just the right chords in Michi to want to smack the woman who, in this particular moment, was the avatar of her unwanted life. She calmly reached down to her pocket, pulled out her water bottle, took a sip to refresh her drying throat, then flicked it at Naomi so a small splash of water scattered across her face. Water was always meant to wake people up, after all.

"Not a dream." Michi told the woman plainly, keeping one eye on the cabinets where the strange man had fled, and one on the woman before her. "But we should leave." And, she silently considered, make certain that they didn't run into the other fellow who'd stayed in the basement with them. Something about the thought of encountering him post-crow unsettled the young woman.

[Bladehunter217]

Riggins distracted? This could turn out amusing or quite the opposite. Absolut ly delightful. How often do I get the opportunity to go searching for a few coworkers in a construction zone filled with insane people. Never unfortunately, those two probably just had a spot of some drug. I'm not certain which variety of hallucination causing drug. Most the ones I came across as a kid didn't look like that. Maybe this is an experimental one, certainly has bad side effects. Tilburr takes his opportunity to go downstairs, being more brain than brawn he decided to not try catching a younger man. He goes to the stairs they took before and begins his search.

[Rith]

Of the two ladies in the sea of filing cabinets, one was now dripping with water, while the other professed that they needed to get moving. Almost to punctuate Michi's words, however, as the doors to the stairwell the bird had ran to clanged shut, they heard a voice. A very loud voice. It sounded almost like Riggins, except that it seemed to be shouting in sing-song tones, "GET HIM OUT OF MY BASEMENTS!" over and over again. Then, afterwards, what seemed to be two dozen people could be heard stampeding down the stairs.

If they looked over to those doors, they'd catch sight of Henry Fitzpatrick, who had apparently been hanging out very close to them, which might strike them as odd, as he had not reacted to even mention the birdman running past him a moment ago. Another odd thing, but he had apparently found a purple fedora somewhere in this basement, and was now wearing it. Fitzpatrick was making his way to the doors beyond which that commotion had sprung, and, carefully opening one, peered down the stairs. Looking back at where Naomi and Michi stood, he smiled, "Not getting involved in that. I'll see you... beautiful ladies... upstairs," and with that, he was off, heading back up the stairway.



The stairwell they had found Toby and Oliver acting crazy in was pristine. Seemless concrete walls and stainless steel structure with some manner of ceramic making up the actual material of the stairs and landings. In all honesty, it was very professional looking to Tilburr's eyes. Looking closer, though, he would find no sign that those here with him on this trip had used a drug. No crumbs, no empty plastic bags, nothing to show what had happened here. Then again, if he would consider it, there wasn't anything here... at all. The stairwell continued up into the unfinished levels and was itself open at the top, and that copious concrete dust from up above had apparently not reached here. Everything was clean, not even a footstep left from the crowd of construction workers who had just ran down these stairs chasing Toby. That was curious indeed.

"Uhm, hello, Mr. Tilburr," a nervous voice cut into Tilburr's analization of the scene, prompting the man to look up and lock eyes with the tall, bespeckled Canadian, Henry Fitzpatrick. A little doubt was in the man's eyes, as he smoothed back his full head of shadow-black hair, apparently uncertain if he would be in trouble for having disappeared. However, he also had a confused expression on his face as well, "Uhm, what is going on downstairs. I just heard, twenty people run past that basement with the filing cabinets."



"GET HIM OUT OF MY BASEMENTS!" came the sing-shouting voice of Riggins behind Toby, as what must have been twenty construction workers poured down the stairwell after him. However, due to their apparent insanity, they were constantly bumping into one another and could not seem to catch up with him, as the intern (perhaps former intern) shot down the stairs after a black & brown figure which seemed intent on escaping. It reached the absolute bottom of the stairs, then, and sprinted off to a large, heavy door, smashing through it. The door was thick, and must have been very heavy, but the birdman just shoved it aside like it were plastic. It took so long to swing back into place, that Toby was able to slip through, just in time for it to crash shut behind him.

The bottom basement was almost completely dark and very, very cold. The entire place was filled with machinery, such as water pipes, water heaters, generators, servers, breaker boxes, and furnaces. In fact, half of the equipment here seemed unnecessary, and he could even spot what looked to be an old wood-burning stove. Toby caught the glint of gold chains in the dimness up ahead after a moment of taking stock of the scene, and could resume the chase, if he so desired. Left, right, then right again, they weaved through the clutter of mismatched machines, Riggins and his hunting party apparently having fallen off somewhere, as the chase was now utter silent but for the sound of footfalls.

They ran for what seemed like ten minutes until Toby, likely sore and out-of-breath, would be hard-pressed to find his way back out by memory alone. However, as he came around the last corner, he found that the birdman had vanished, and the only place he could have gone was obvious: an old, white-washed door carved in Victorian style sat at the end of a five foot dead-end in front of him, complete with lion door knocker. However, two things seemed out of place regarding this door. Of course, a wooden, Victorian door was out of place in a modern concrete & steel building, but there was more. First, the door had no handle, knob, or latch. Second... it was only one foot tall.

[Deathkeeper]

I admit, I just barely made it through those doors. Not because I was running out of breath by that point, but because holy crap he smashed right through them! I probably should have taken the hint and turned around right there, but I was feeling stubborn and kinda terrified of being trampled by angry construction workers. Mostly stubborn
And yet I only got more miserable from there. The place was freezing, and almost pitch black. By the time it took to fish out my Swiss Army knife and fiddle with its tiny LED for some light I'd almost lost the damn bird. I nearly stubbed my toe six times, and what was half of this crap, anyway? My lungs were on fire, and I was afraid the sound of my panting would have made my presence rather obvious. But somehow it didn't matter, because I never totally lost sight of the figure until the end. I honestly don't know how my lungs held out that long. My feet and legs were only barely in any better shape.
And then a door. A very nice looking door if it wasn't sized for a doll. I was sure that I'd lost him, but I still bent down to look at the tiny thing.
"I know he looked like a bird, but you'd need to be an actual crow to fit through here." I wondered aloud.
With a shaky hand, I gripped the knocker with two fingers and rapped it against the wood.
"How far down does the rabbit hole go?"

[Bladehunter217]

Tilburr locks his arms behind his back, tilting his head back to somehow appear as if he were looking down at Fitzpatrick. "Just people who did not listen to my warning Fitzpatrick, nothing for you to worry about. Since you clearly have nothing important to do, you can assist me and then be the first to fill out an incident report. Where are the others Fitzpatrick, we are ending this tour early and you are going to help me inform the others." Why is he wandering around and why didn't he try to stop someone to ask what was going on. Now I have to babysit him so he doesn't dissappear as well.

[Hazuki]

Michi glanced around the filing cabinets a she heard the thundering steps, the song of Riggins' people, and the clanging door that the bird-person had retreated through. There was nothing in their immediate vicinity, which meant that, whatever was going on, and she didn't have a single idea what, wasn't going to hurt them any time soon. It was enough to keep her calm for at least a few moments, before the next unexpected surprise that defied everything she'd ever known, and figure out what she should do to proceed. If everybody was going crazy elsewhere, and everybody did seem to be taking actions that drew attention to the, it would be best to do the exact opposite of that.

It was at that point that the fellow in the fedora greeted them, and she just gave him a lazy look of disdain, as she often did for her co-workers. She looked at Naomi, made a gesture for her to follow, then started to trace her steps back to the exit of the building site. If she just walked casually, acted like nothing had happened, like nothing had disturbed her, then she wouldn't be noticed...it had worked every day so far, so there was no reason it couldn't work then.

[Rith]

Fitzpatrick appeared to take a moment to process what Tilburr had said, and then set his mouth in a particular half-smile of resignation. It was almost as if he were saying, 'Well, I suppose I was asking for it. I thought he might have been cool.' Henry was good at expressing himself via only his expressions. Perhaps he'd be good in some kind of communicative role. A second after this notion passed, he replied, "Michi and Naomi are on their way up. They should be here soon, don't worry, sir. What would you like in the incident report? What's happened?"

However, before that could be processed, a new figure appeared on the landing on the stairs. Michi Bessho, being her usual still and silent self. Fitzpatrick half-turned to her and gave a sort of encouraging smile as she reached level with him. She might have spurned a conversation wit him, but he was still going to be nice to her.

At the same time, there were some voices wafting up from down below. It seemed that Toby had been caught, and Riggins was directing his men to walk him up the stairs. Meanwhile, he was screaming, "No! Noooo! Let me go! I'm in the basement! I have to catch the bird man! There's a door! A little door! Too small! I'm in the basement! How deep does the rabbit hole go?!"



Michi traced her steps back from the basement carefully, finding the stairs they had come down, and quietly pacing up them, until, that is, she came up onto the landing where Tilburr and Fitzpatrick stood. After she stepped onto that landing, Henry, still wearing that Fedora which had apparently come from nowhere, turned to her and said, "You might have spurned a conversation wit him, but he was still going to be nice to you."



Downstairs, Mr. Reed was busy knocking on a tiny door and asking a question to the empty air. Little did he know that someone was listening.

"How should I know? I don't see any rabbits around here," the lion head door knocker replied to the man, "I certainly hope you aren't calling me a rabbit hole, of course. That would just be rude. Oh but listen to me, talking about being rude and I'm not even doing my job. How may I help... oh wait, are you... yeah, you're too big. That just won't work. No way you can fit through here. Not that you'd really want to either, you wouldn't like what's on the other side. Maybe you should start with some lighter stuff, like the elevator. The elevator is much nicer than me," and there was suddenly an elevator door sitting next to this tiny, Victorian door. An elevator which had not been there a moment ago.

[Deathkeeper]

I swear I must have jumped back two feet. I mean, I'd been thinking of the Alice in Wonderland jokes in my head but I really hadn't thought that the door would start talking!
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I was just quoting something and didn't know you were listening." I said, my brain completely failing to respond rationally to the situation. Without even really thinking about it, I stepped over and pressed the button for the elevator.
"Where does this go? Where do you go? What's with this place? The only person I've seen around was my size, he couldn't have fit through there either, could he?" I said, realizing after I said it that it was an awful lot of questions at once.

[Hazuki]

Michi doesn't do much to acknowledge the presence of the other people on the landing, besides quietly noting that the Henry fellow was still somehow trying to get her attention and utterly failing. There's the man who seems to be of some importance from her office, but it wouldn't be a good idea to stay and chat with him either...not if he's one of the people who keeps being weird. So the short woman just keeps walking, aiming to get out of the building and away from the uneasy feeling that has settled in her stomach.

[Bladehunter217]

Michi Bessho, wonder if she tries to act that way. Hmm, Reed is making another ruckas. "Bessho, before you leave I have one question. You were with Naomi a few minutes ago. Where is she? Aside from that, you are free to return to the main office. Oh amd one more thing, sometime this week we will have to fill out paperwork on the trip. What in the hell is he talking about now? A bird man?" Not expecting more than the Asian woman pointing the direction he was already going, Tilburr takes a step down. "Come along Fitzpatrick, the sooner we collect the last missing lamb the sooner you can go home."

[Rith]

Michi shied away from Henry's smile, and almost seemed to be hiding her face from the two men present. Henry didn't exactly notice, however, as he had begun looking over the edge of the railings, staring down as the procession, being led by Riggins, forced the still shouting Toby up the stairs. "Yeah, definitely something about a bird man. He also seems to think that he's somewhere that he's not. Oh..." he recoiled from the railings, wearing a nervous expression as the sound of a scuffle echoed up from below, "and it looks like he's taken a swing at a guy." Turning back to Tilburr, he half-smiled, "I hope he'll be okay. I mean, will our business offer any compensation? I mean, he's an intern."

At that moment, Riggins rounded the bend in the stairs below, making his way up onto the landing followed by Toby Reed, who was still halfheartedly struggling, but, being restrained by three large workers, looked to be resigned to his fate. The remaining men were quietly plodding along behind, as Riggins spoke, "Out of the way! We're coming through!" Then he caught sight of Tilburr, and Michi Bessho, who looked to be intentionally hiding her face from the surrounding people. He didn't say anything, but his expression was enough, as he glared at Tilburr with something of a 'hope you've found the other as well' look.



"Miss Bessho, where is Naomi? We're trying to close up here and I don't want to leave any loose ends. I hope she found something interesting, of course. It would be very helpful for me if she did. It might be helpful for her too, but I know I could use it if she did. Don't forget that sometime this week you're going to have to record this fiasco in a paper," Tilburr was going on. However, Michi might not be entirely attentive, as Henry, right beside her, was leaning over the railing on the landing, and was rolling backwards and forwards, like a little kid on a playground, all the while saying, 'Wheeee!'. Tilburr, after a moment, spoke up, "Fitzpatrick, come on. We have to find Naomi," and Henry stepped back from the railing. Strange... it had almost looked like a wince.

A second later, Riggins came up onto the landing. Except, for some reason, he was carrying a marcher's baton and high-stepping the entire way, as his workers followed after him, apparently having ran down the stairs for no reason at all, though one man was rubbing his face as though it hurt. As he marched past them, Walter was sing-shouting without aim, "Out! OUT! GET OUT!"



The lion head on the door listened patiently to Toby's series of questions, chewing on the knocker in it's mouth like a dog chewing on a bone. As soon as the questions were finished, the elevator door slid open, revealing a dingy compartment inside which must have once been gorgeous. Green velvet and dark, hardwood walls. It looked like an elevator from the 1920's, and was distinctly out of place in this building.

As Toby took the sight in, the door decided to cut across his thoughts, "Well, I suppose you'd have to say that it goes where it goes. Maybe it goes to the place you're going. Maybe it doesn't. It really depends where you're going. It also depends where you are. Most elevators go up and down, of course. If that one goes sideways, back and forth, or any kind of diagonal, do let me know. I'd like to know so that I can answer your question correctly. As for me, I swing open and I swing shut. Those are the only places I go, though I must say I'd like to go some other places as well. Maybe I could try diagonal some time. I think it would probably be tricky, of course. Maybe if the place I was in were to be tilted I could do it, but that would be uncomfortable. Have you ever been bolted to a tilted wall. I haven't either, but I imagine it would be most uncomfortable. I don't think I'd like to go up or down, of course. If I would go down, well, then I'd be on the ground. Very unpleasant, I imagine. If I were to go up, I might fall, and we encounter the ground again. But, then I might be laying on my back, and if I could tilt my head the correct way, I could see what was on the other side of me at last. That might make being on the ground more pleasant. Then again, it might just be more of this stuff I've been looking out at for so long, and I'd still be on the ground. Oh, and I'm an expert on this place. It's a basement full of maintenance equipment and memories. I suppose they don't look like memories up here, but that's what they are. This place is also the wall where I'm attached. Whatever's on the other side of the wall must be important, because things come through me all the time. They're all the correct size, of course, unlike you. Yeah, but persons don't go through me. They're all too big, and I don't think they see me anyways. They built the wall I was attached to, however, so I like them. Without them, I wouldn't be on a wall, and we come back to the whole uncomfortable thing again. I think not existing was uncomfortable too, but I can't remember that, because I didn't exist. Oh, don't you need to take that elevator?"

[Deathkeeper]

I really couldn't do much besides scratch my head. I mean, that was just one big old bundle of sideways answers. I couldn't even wrap my head around the most direct one, and that was that the basement was full of memories? What, do I have to exist on another set of dimensions to see those? I didn't get it, and I didn't expect to get it any time soon, so all I could think to do was flinch and jump into the elevator.
"Oh right thank you. If I see you again I'll tell you what happens."
I told the lion-door-fellow. I inspected the elevator for any buttons, and finding a small lever, pulled on it. It moved easily and didn't break off, so that was a good sign, right?
Right?

[Bladehunter217]

"I highly doubt Reed will get any form of compensation. Have you any idea how much this company makes? No, Reed will be filed away in a state run institution funded by tax payers. Unfortunate but that seems the way America likes to run things." Tilburr scowled at Riggins, something about him was very grating. "No worries Riggins, there is only one mouse left to catch." With a sigh, Tilburr continued downstairs. Hopefully nothing else unusual would happen.

[Rith]

(Only LordDeathkeeper)

Metal doors slid shut, grating and squealing from age and misuse, supposing it was really old and hadn't just starting existing a moment ago. If it had only begun it's existence, it imitated great age very well, as it shuddered into motion, shaking and trembling as it was lowered down, deeper into the world. After a few seconds, the electricity seemed to falter, or, whatever it was that was supplying light to this elevator, and the compartment was plunged into darkness, only for it to come back on a moment later, except that now there was a shelf on the right side of the compartment, with an old tube television sitting there. Staring at it for a moment, at it suddenly cut on, into static. The power flickered again, and now the shelf was on the left side, and instead bore a piece of parchment, an inkwell, and a quill. On the parchment, in large, loopy letters, were written two words, 'Avoid Mirrors'. Then the lights flickered again, but did not come back on this time. Instead, the doors slid open, halfway, catching on something, and leaving the compartment in mostly darkness.

Beyond those doors was another basement. A basement exactly like the one he had just came from. It was an exact replica... the same boxes and machines to either side. However, a thick layer of dust sat on top of everything, a giant furnace had been turned over on it's side, coals from it's belly shattered across the ground beside fields of shattered glass which had fallen from the broken fluorescents up above. Almost every single light was busted, except for two, one of which was flickering, leaving the scene in dimness. On many of the machines all around, there was graffiti, most of which looked like it was written in blood. On particular message popped out at Toby, reading, "GET OUT OF MY BASEMENT!"

The lever inside the elevator wasn't moving anymore, so the only option was to step outside. However, once Toby did this and looked around, glass clinking under his feet, he found that the elevator had vanished altogether, and the lion door was nowhere to be found. There were many shadows down here, but, it looked like there was a path through these machines which still bore some light, even if it was dim. Something told the lost intern that he did not want to go into those shadows, a sensation as though he could see the edges of things moving out there, just out of sight.

If he were to follow the dimly lit path, he'd find that he was lucky enough for it to guide him back to those massive metal doors. However, now, they were shut, and covered in rust, with graffiti painted across it. Strangely, the graffiti was a picture of a form from the office where he worked. An incident report, and upon it was scrawled out the recounting of an event. Most of it was illegible, but the part which he could read said, 'I stepped out of the elevator and examined my surroundings. Finding only one pathway forward, I followed it. There was evidence to suggest to me that there were things in this strange, alternate-alternate basement. Things in the shadows, like monsters. I came to a door, but was unable to get it open in time. Lights behind me started shattering. I wasn't able to open the door in time, and once the shadows swallowed me up, those monsters fell on me, ripping into my body. I remember it very vividly. Then I died.'

A sound of glass shattered came from behind Toby, a light exploding, as his eyes fell on the signature at the bottom of the form: 'Toby Reed.'

[Deathkeeper]

I breathed in and out, very slowly as the lights flickered.

I breathed in and out slowly as I wandered around the messy basement through the path through the light.

I breathed in and out, not so quickly, as I tried the doors and found them to be as heavy as they appeared, and a note bearing my own signature.

God damn it all.

Something else snapped in me, and adrenaline surged through my veins. No, no no no, no no nonononononoNO! I flicked my tiny knife out, and pressed my thumb onto its switch and shined that light as far into the Dark as I could.
Avoid mirrors? All right then, I'll leave the dying at the door handle to the past alternate-me. I'll stand and do something else!
"My name is Tobias Lawrence Reed, and I am not dying in this ****hole!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

[Rith]

Almost in response, another light flickered and shattered, the darkness coming a step closer and the shapes coming a few feet closer. Apparently whatever... malevolent force... was here, it did not find his tiny knife and proclamation of his name to be entirely intimidating.

[Deathkeeper]

Aaaaand that's when I decided that since I had a hand free I might as well pull (and push!) at that door a little bit just a little bit just to make sure that it really was stuck. All the while, I waved the light back and forth, trying to use it for whatever I could.
These things clearly disliked light. There had to be something about it that would make them uncomfortable at the very least. It had to be good for something.
[roll0]
Because if it was stuck? Then Last Stand or not, I was going to run, for an exit, for a place to hide, for another elevator, I wasn't sure what, I just knew that I'd take almost anything.
Except Riggins. I'd probably punch that bastard for getting me into this. If he hadn't shown up screaming I would have gotten along fine with the crazies that were around. The girl's double had been simple and almost sweet, if unhinged. And the medic had been creepy but not necessarily harmful. It was just a bad set of coincidences, but his confrontational crap, or rather his double's, had catalyzed this huge ****storm.
So yeah, plan. Wave light around, try door. If fails, run in direction I came from or along the walls, whichever seems to have less chance of violent death, also waving light around because if that does anything at all to stave off violent death that hoo boy, I'll wave that thing like a six year old with a sparkler!

[Deathkeeper]

Okay, all right, that didn't work. No problem. It's no problem, right? I'll think of something, right?
I should run now...

...but those shadows are looking very...deadly. I am not a fan of deadly. Deadly things are not conducive to living a long life. So without any idea of what I was doing, I spun around and jammed the blade of my knife into the lock of the door, hoping that maybe I could pry some of the rust off of the mechanism and get it moving. Sweat was drenching my forehead within moments despite the continuing cold as the adrenaline pumped. It was all I could do, all I could do, I was going to live, dammit!
But that left me with a hand free. I didn't have anything to do with it. So I let what little part of my brain which was still not focused on the door wander, and it came to a very stupid idea. But sometimes in a place as twisted as this stupid ideas work. After all, talking to a door got me here. And so my left hand slipped a bright red Sharpie marker from the front of my bag.
So after a few moments, I was trying to use a tiny knife to lockpick a door, with graffiti that read:

'I stepped out of the elevator and examined my surroundings. Finding only one pathway forward, I followed it. There was evidence to suggest to me that there were things in this strange, alternate-alternate basement. Things in the shadows, like monsters. I came to a door, but and was unable to get it open in time. Lights behind me started shattering. I wasn't able to open the door in time, and once the shadows didn't swallowed me up; those monsters never fell on me, ripping into my body. I remember it very vividly. Then I died left and kept living.'

[roll0]

[Hazuki]

A gentle treading sound emitted from the concrete flooring that made up the majority of the building site, as Michi's steps carried her into the room where the hers of her co-workers lurked. Scattered about like the errant blooms of a cherry blossom tree, they'd chosen their own paths through the ebb and flow, through the winds of their whim, and all had seen things adjusted particularly to them. Or as in the chaos of nature, there was no destined path for each stray petal; just whatever they happened to come across, and it was their reactions that would be tailored to them. She'd glided low over the ground, spotted the caterpillar that sought to eat her, and then sought the windpaths that could restore her to safety, to a sanctum either personal or congregate, and found that her path to comfort had been blockaded by the forms of similar blossoms.

But were they the siblings from whose branch she once sprouted? Were the forms of the lingering co-workers and supposed builders alike sound, or had they become too altered by their paths to be considered her siblings for any longer? Were they deceptive little insects, wearing the colors of her blossoms with the intent of leading her to doom, as little more than dye for a nest of egg-hatched monstrosities? All of it could have been, all of it may have came to be in the future, or any of the other convoluted directions that time and space sought to create and destroy in the infinite probability of reality. They could even have been vagrants, wandering aimlessly and innocently, unaware of the entropy they carried upon their backs, little more than similarly confused beings who had worked at their own office, with their own water cooler, and all of whom were just as frightened as her.

Of the possibilities, of the threats, of that little spark in the minds of all sapient beings that could tear down the mightiest of wills or inspire holy crusaders with little more than its existence. Imagination! A tool that was ingenious, dangerous, wondrous, and all the other things at once, but none of them, if that is what its owner attempted to use it for. It was this ever-churning orb of creativity that stirred in the center of the little asian woman's mind that most stimulated her, as she stood surrounded by things that, for the time, she could not comprehend, nor hope to, while there was little more than inklings of shreds of facts that, even were she to collect them all with a brush that absorbed the concepts of human borders, she could not have the proper filters to understand. A hopeless endeavor, and something elder to fear, to think about, to philosophize over, all in the span of shreds of a nanosecond! Such was the curse and brilliance of imagination.

Before her, a man who called himself Tilburr - a title or a name, a meaning from a language long-lost or even one known, but whose meaning was forgot in the desperation of the human mind to tag all they see, even if they are ignorant of its higher purpose? Many even chosen simply for the fact that they were pleasant to the cranial construct of an ear - but defined as such not by logic, or reason, or the comprehension and understand of the greater universe around them. Preferences that lingered in the mind of man without reason, no foot that made its print and the impression in their mind that Delilah was an existence-spanning superior to Saxhleel - it simply was, or perhaps it was not. Perhaps there was a reason, an origin, but one that primitive brains could not yet hope to grasp any more than a piece of soap that had slipped their hands in the shower - a woeful tale that all knew, could relate to, and perhaps an origin of the fondness for Delilah-over-Saxhleel, the delicate pewter pot over the lizard-come-mountain.

Or the ur-soap was called Delilah, and so all came to relate to the tales of ephemeral primordial beings, and Saxhleel a serpent, a limbless un-scaled dragon whose heart was black and hide slick with the discarded shower water. And all of it had been lost, forgotten, drifted away among upon the rivers of space and buried in the sands of time, little more than a speck across the desert of comprehension that perhaps one day they could discover again. A Delilah, a lizard-come-mountain, but all was out of reach, and human kind were content to sit in their sandcastle. A bastion of hope against the golden sands who could reveal so much, but threaten with the same, and that was what Michi had been seeking herself. A sandcastle within the sandcastle, her sanctum, and any motivation beyond fear could simply be dismissed, or simply not yet without comprehension. But her sand-castle-within-the-sandcastle was blocked, and before her was Tilburr, the man with a name she knew or did not know.

His question was a simple one, inquiring after the co-workers she'd instructed to follow after her in an attempt to make the situation and its solution mundane, although it appeared that, at that moment, she hadn't deigned to commit the act, perhaps for reasons of her own, and that was what she was seeking. But then another question arose in the mind of the casually-business-dressed young woman - and that was whether it was correct to lead the beings whose intentions she did not know, to lead them to the one with an unusual hat and an attitude revolving around the shedding of clothes, the dreamlike substances that made up the realm of sleep - leading them to her could have been beneficial or diminish her state, with little in the form of hints to tell her what the precise aftereffects would be of informing those people about the location of said woman. Another poor effect of humanity's consciousness, or perhaps all of life, if even those with feathered hides and talon-clasped watches failed to perceive all that could occur. And of course, Michi didn't care beyond what she considered basic human decency.

What followed Tilburr's question was a series of words that may not have even been his own, and were certainly pertaining to the obvious, though less-enlightened. A report perhaps waited in her future, a pen tapped to the ink of imagination or just the drippy black congealing substance that reflected a fragmented mental state. Whether it was his genuine intention to have her writing a report in the future, or even if it was the true Tilburr that stood before her, she planned to avoid portraying the events as her fragile lump of cerebral matter interpreted them as she stood in the frigid air of a hall whose walls were as uncaring as a monarch to the plight of his peasants, or greater! That of a God for the bacteria that aided his life and did so many things, but each of whom were indifferent, as they could never interact, and any opportunity to would have led solely to a state that would confuse each entity, or legion of entities, in much the same way as Michi was as she stood there.

Michi worked the ligaments in her lithe left shoulder, looking towards Tilburr for only one moment as she extended her arm out behind her and pointed a single digit at the stairs she'd taken. Her arm pointed at an angle, just a few degree to the left of her shoulder if one were to look straight down it; not an uncomfortable pose, simply an efficient one to direct the man to where she'd last been in the presence of the slightly more delirious woman. It was an honesty, which was something that she could at least claim was a course of action with the best of intentions, which were what she had, and few people would blame her for attempting to follow the most decent series of actions even if events were to twist in such a way that she somehow became responsible for the suffering of a woman who had stumbled innocently into the building with the intention of a day away from work, but ended up with merely a head stuffed to the brim by data-angels.

The clean ironed shirt that adorned her skinny, slightly muscular form ruffled with the movement and reminded her of the sensory data she'd watched rush through the supposed fedora-wearer's form. Nothing but a metal pole against which he was forced to feel one of many emotions that could have caused somebody to wince; shame or pain or simple overwhelming emotions, and of course the origin had seemed to be the words of Tilburr - it could have been the words themselves, the retraction of the allowance to scream and writhe as though he were a madman or a child, but it seemed fairly certain that, for whatever reason, the almost-authority figure possessed some method of harming the man with a vibrant hat. Were she the type to endanger herself needlessly, she might have attempted to investigate further, to leave her construct of ground-up rocks and the bastion it provided, but the place had proven itself both dangerous and unlikely to improve in the immediate future. It was for the best of the health of everyone involved to leave, but that was their initiative, and not hers.

When the leader of the workers rose from the stairs, he was singing a tune that she agreed with. So, as she had originally intended upon leaving the basement, Michi continued walking towards the exit of the building and kept walking, no matter what attempted to interrupt her path.

[Sir Dancealot]

Naomi walked through a verdant field of greens, and reds, and purples, and a thousand other colors. Here, each flower was different, each sang their own song. This was her dream. That she knew for a fact, for only here had she ever really felt safe. At least, for the past while anyway. Ever since she had been fired from the Restaurant. She smiled, basking in the warm glow of the sun. She wasn't entirely sure why she was here instead of somewhere else, but it didn't really matter now did it? For the moment, she was happy.

A drop of water dripped off her nose. Where had that come from? Frown, she turned, surveying the rainbow field before her. It was clear, bright, sunny. No rain to be seen. Odd that water would be he- A drop fell into her eye, making her blink.

Naomi stared at the grey blankness of the filing cabinets. She reached out and touched one, confirming that she was indeed still in this place. She sighed, closing her eyes again. For a moment, she breathed, going through long remembered patterns of breathing to bring about peace. After a minute, she opened her eyes again to the bleak greyness. This was quite real. It seemed birdmen might be a possibility as well.

That did bode the question as to where the small asian woman ran off to. Probably up. But what fun was up when you had the possibility of birdmen? She dropped down, squatting as she looked around herself on the floor. It was a birdman right? Feathers and all. It hadn't seem used to being flustered, so no doubt it didn't run too much. Perhaps it had left a trail of feathers? Maybe scratches on the floor from where it's talons had slammed into the concrete.

[Rith]

Another light went out, the shadows coming that much closer across the trashed basement, glass tinkling on the ground as Toby struggled with his knife jammed between the rusted, metal doors, a market in his other hand frantically trying to rewrite the proclamation of his death. Another light went out in the room, and he felt as though whatever was lingering in those shadows, was laughing at his panicking attempts to flee, even though that was no sound, just the hum of the last three fluorescent lights above him and the sound of his own pocket knife scraping at thick doors of heavy metal. Then, with a burst, another light went out, leaving him with only two, illuminating a island of light within an ocean of pitch black.

Then the second-to-last light burst, and a few shards of glass even scattered far enough to hit his feet. Now all that was left was a single fixture overhead, flickering and threatening to burst at any moment. One second, and that knife was still stabbing at the crack between the doors. Two seconds, did he just feel one door shift a centimeter? Three seconds, and the door screamed as he worked his fingers in the now-widened crack, dragging it open. Four seconds, and he wormed his way through the tiny opening, and into the stairwell.

There wasn't any light on this side. Only a single bulb a few stories up which catch light down through the many stairs and landings to give Toby a very dim lighting to the scene. In fact, more light was coming from the way he had just came, than from elsewhere, and, if he were to look back into the basement, he'd find that all the lights had come back on, inexplicably being healed from their explosions a moment before.

The stairs and rails were rusted and tarnished in this stairwell, while the concrete walls were riddled with cracks, even crumbling in places, and covered in graffiti in others. Random words from that graffiti popped out at Toby as he walked up those stairs, such as the name of a restaurant he and his family once ate at while on vacation. Another was a depiction of the coffee machine from the office Toby worked at. From this stairwell, Toby had two immediate options: Go back up to the surface and escape this ransacked tower, or go to the one basement he hasn't been in yet.



Naomi, after a short vacation to her happy place, finally became aware of the reality of her situation, and immediately took charge, heading down the stairs to chase that impossible creature, that bird man. It wasn't too difficult to follow at first, as she had seen the direction it had ran towards. However, once in the stairwell, there were two options: up or down, and considering that she had heard a stampede of workers going downstairs, logical would point her that way as well. One landing down, she even found a gold pocket watch, complete with chain, which had apparently broken off of the tweed suit. The bird had definitely came this way. Maybe it even had been caught by that stampede of men, but, for some reason, Naomi felt this was not likely the case.

At the bottom of the stairwell, she encountered two large, heavy metal doors barring her pathway. Then, a moment later, a step came from behind her, and, turning, she'd find the face of Tilburr there on the steps. The man who had directed her to keep an eye out for secret doors. Well, if there were any secret doors, they'd be hidden behind heavy, secure doors like these two, right?

As she stood there, though, she got a strange sensation. As though that intern, Toby Reed, was standing somewhere nearby in the stairwell. Why would he be down here, though? Wouldn't he be up with the others?



Tilburr heads downstairs after the workers push Toby Reed up the stairs past him, aiming to catch up with Naomi via Michi's directions. Before he's left the landing, Fitzpatrick calls after him, "I'll head back to the office and get start on that incident report," before heading back up the stairs.

Before he reached the basement of filing cabinets, however, Tilburr caught a glimpse of what appeared to be Naomi's head vanishing down into lower recesses of the stairwell. Well, suppose that would be the way to go, if he were to retrieve her. So, down they went, until they reached the bottom level, where a pair of heavy metal doors sat. As he stood there, his thoughts seemed to drift back to Toby Reed.



Henry Fitzpatrick was nothing if not persistent, as he caught back up with Michi on the ground floor of the unfinished tower. The Asian woman would notice, as she walked through the construction sight, that a vast majority of the workers were lazing around and not working, and the few who were, were doing utterly terrible jobs at it. There was an ambulance there, with the tall black man, Oliver Collins, sitting inside. Strangely, he looked like he was the most sane person present, as he was looking at the insane activities of those around him with an expression that plainly read, 'what is wrong with the world, here?'

But, back to Fitzpatrick. He was persistent, but his attempts at conversation were becoming more and more blatant, as he spoke, "Say, Michi. I find your resolute silence to be intriguing, and would like to get to know you better. In exchange for a conversation, I'm willing to take you to a coffee shop and buy you lunch. What do you say?"

Hey, free lunch. Then again, the world was crazy, and Collin's maintained sanity might be worth examination.

[Hazuki]

Almost freed from the building entirely, with little space remaining before she could be freed from the building site and once more walk among the regular civilians of the world. Hardly the most appropriate people, or the ones she wished to spend time with the most, but among the tiers of preferences, the USA was slightly better than a land filled with madness that her mind did not particularly care to delve into. It was simply a series of well-placed steps away from where she stood, before one last remnant of the building attempted to cling to her, to hold her within its clutches and keep her there, force her to resign to whatever fate it had in store for her. Much to the chagrin of whatever rulers were within those halls of concrete, Michi had the resolute trait of apathy.

Though the world turned around its axis, Michi possessed a large enough portion of self-identification that she was able to simply bat aside the majority of things it threw at her - be they the ills on television, the aftermath of a hangover, or the persistent attempts at gaining her attention by a man who she couldn't even be certain was what his face claimed to be. Workers were scattered across their site, atop their thrones of brick and metal, and they were to her as she was almost certain they were to whoever organized the construction of the buildings. They existed, and what they attempted to do with their existence was of little concern as long as they did not enter her personal bubble, and the mere fact of being there was hers to do with as she wished. To some, they could have been pawns.

But Michi didn't care to acknowledge them beyond the fact that they were there. And the be-spectacled fellow who followed her footsteps was attempting to become more than he truly was, so she turned on her heel, faced him, and reached for her bottle of water. "Leave." She told him firmly, meeting the man's eyes for only a moment before she drank a mouthful of water. If he would do as she said, there would be no further issues, and she could leave the madness behind. If not...

[Bladehunter217]

Tilburr nods to Naomi before focusing on the door. Isn't this interesting. Back home I used to spend time in a graveyard when I wanted to be left alone. This place gives me the same feeling in my gut. Reed, I don't know why you are in my mind but I've learned to listen to my subconscious. Did you find something back here? I can't imagine what you would have been doing but interns do like to slack off. I hope you will get your mind back soon, its a shame how many lives have been lost around me and losing your mind can be just as bad. Goodluck Mr. Reed and may you been with right mind when I return. Tilburr offers a silent prayer and looks at Naomi. "I would certainly call this interesting. Let us have a look then and see what secrets this basement holds. Before I open it, did you find anything interesting where you were? You did spend a little while there."

Tilburr will check if the door pulls or pushes and try.

[Deathkeeper]

I think I swore more in those few moments than I previously had in my entire life. I think I flinched more during that minute than I did in my whole life, too. Just pop after pop after pop after pop, and lights going out one by one. I was very glad at that moment that I honestly don't watch man horror movies. It made it harder to imagine what was in there with me. I don't think I've ever appreciated light so much than at that moment, though.

And then, freedom. From my own efforts, a God or something else, I didn't know, but a wave of relief gushed over me as I passed through that threshold.
And behind me the lights were fine. I stood there and gaped for a moment, and gladly let the doors shut behind me. I was in the dark, but that barrier made me feel better even if logic told me that it did nothing to boost my safety.

An yet what was this place? The markings still seemed to follow things I would know, at least bits of it. But if some version of me had gone through, why had its writing said that it died? I don't know. I hardly cared. But something frightened me, the thought of seeing what city this crumbling tower belonged to. What world was I in, whose basements contained a darkness even more malevolent than what I knew? I hesitated.
And so instead of walking up the stairs completely, I poked my head into the other basement's door. There was no use in fumbling about in the dark with my tiny little knife yet. If the room was dark and the light switch not immediately visible, I'd just have to leave, wouldn't I? I'd go up as soon as I was sure there weren't any Tengu to interrogate in there...

[Sir Dancealot]

Naomi looked at the doors, then down at her hand. It felt heavier than it should. Ah. Yes. The watch. She'd forgotten that she had picked it up on her short journey to the large doors of doom. And Tilburr was here too. It didn't look like he had her clipboard though. That was kind of annoying. He then asked questions. Fair enough, it was technically his job. She shrugged in response, "There was a birdman, he dropped his watch and left talon marks over the floor. I think he went through the doors." She paused a moment as she figured out how to open the gold pocket watch, "Is Toby with you? I feel like he's with you." This watch didn't want to open did it? Maybe it was made for bird hands? Wings? Feathers? She couldn't really recall if it had hands or not, being so distracted by the bird head.

She examined the watch closely as she tried to fiddle with it open. Maybe turn this thing? No. She'd never actually dealt with a pocket watch before, and didn't actually know that they were generally opened by simply pressing a small button on the top. No doubt it would come to her shortly.

[Rith]

Tilburr watched as Naomi looked down at her empty hand, as though she were contemplating something there. It wasn't actually Naomi, however. Tilburr had asked if she had found anything in the filing cabinet basement and why she was down here. She looked confused for a moment, but then spoke, "I'm looking for birds. There should be birds in the basement, but there are. Large birds. Absurdly large birds. You have no idea how big. There are probably more behind the doors." She continued staring at her hand as she spoke, "Is Toby with you? I feel like he's with you."



Something seemed slightly off about Tilburr, as he lingered there on the steps. He was glancing around a bit more than usual, and his words were a little unusual, "I was not expecting big doors like those. Those are really big doors. Why do they need to be so big? Let's open them, but first, did you find anything I wouldn't have expected in that other place? Like these big doors?"

As he spoke, though, Naomi was busy contemplating the pocket watch. It took her a moment to find the button that would release the hatch and allow it to open, but when she did, it popped open in her hand perfectly. However, on the inside, it was a little strange. There were seven arms, none of which were moving, and thirteen hours, instead of twelve. There were any immediate clues to why it was like this, but something in the back of her mind have Naomi the impression that this wasn't the way it always was. As though maybe it was putting on a facade, and pretending to be a normal pocket watch, to try and fool her. But that was a crazy thought, wasn't it?



Toby wandered up the stairs, which had to be the exact same stairs he had ran down a moment ago, except that they looked as though they had been overran with gangs and then abandoned decades ago. As he proceeded up the stairs, he took a stop at the first set of doorways he came across, the entrance to the one basement he had not yet been inside. As he peeled his head in, however, he was met with a strange sight. Rows and rows and rows of computer desks lay before the man, all the way across the entire basement. Or, at least, the parts of the basement that he could see, as even here, the lights were busted and flickering, leaving the majority of the place it utter shadow. Almost every single desk was blank, however, except for a few which bore scribbles in black marker on their surface, a smattering of desks here and there with stacks of paper on them, and one, halfway back and to the left a ways, which had something sitting at it. It looked like a one of those dummies you'd find at a medical office. The ones made of rubber with chests designed so you could look at the lungs and heart and entrails of the dummy. It looked like some of the plastic organs had been taken out and placed on the desk it was sitting at as well.

As he stood there, taking in the sight, he heard a crack of lightning, and the rumble of thunder as it rolled through the distant sky above this basement. Then, slowly and steadily, a howling of wind could be heard rising.



Fitzpatrick paused for a moment, looking a little shocked, a little confused, and more than a little hurt. Strange, all she had said was one harmless word. He was reacting as though he had heard a few more than that. So, as a series of construction workers turned to look, Henry bowed, actually bowed, like some kind of Victorian gentleman, and walked off.

It did not take long to get off the construction sight from there, and proceed out across the the city streets. However, the madness did not look to be ending there. No, as she walked, she saw that people she passed were acting very strange. One very fat man was eating a tub of ice cream as he walked down the street, melted chocolate staining the front of his pressed business suit. A woman was sobbing uncontrollably as she window shopped. There was a married couple who were both wearing large, foam hats. Granted, most people could pass as completely normal, but even they, when she looked closer, were acting strange: one was reading a newspaper upside down, another checked her watch far too often, and a third was talking gibberish into his cellphone.

Not only this, but even the advertisements seemed a little out of place. There were a series of posters on one wall for "Ulfer's Miracle Spray-On Hair!" and all were identical, except for the one at the end which read, "You Know This Is Bull****! I Know You're Desperate Enough To Try It Anyways!" Then there was a banner which had read "Spring Clearance Sale" this morning and now read "Slight Price Reduction On Items We Could Not Move."

It was as if the entire world had gone insane, somehow. What was happening?!

[Deathkeeper]

The Black Wind howls....one of you...will soon perish!

I stared blankly at the sight of the empty basement. There was something unsettling about that. I mean, I knew the organs were fake, but the whole room was just creepy. I jumped in surprise at the thunder, and I had to take a moment to give my heart a chance to slow down. In the end, it seemed like this basement was mostly empty. I didn't have any interest in examining an old dummy at a time like this, nor did I have any interest in maneuvering around a room with busted lights just to see if it has any other doors to investigate.

So I shut the door and turned to the stairs, stained with years of wear that shouldn't have happened yet. What was this place, scarred with time that ought not exist? I don't know, but it sure sounded like a storm was coming, and I think staying here during a storm might actually be the stupidest idea I might have ever considered in the history of ever. So I went up the steps, positive that somehow a plan would develop as I went, quietly whistling a tune. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jDA0_gdTqWA) It didn't help much to boost my spirits.

[Hazuki]

Michi wandered across the streets of the city with an increasingly hunched posture, as every corner she turned just revealed more and more of the madness she'd sought to escape from by leaving the site of the building. The persistent man had at least left, though whether he was suffering the same kind of altered perceptions that everyone seemed to be likely had affected even her own actions. That was why she'd been attempting to keep her own movements and words as low-key as possible, after all, as it meant there was less for whatever forces were at play to manipulate, or exaggerate, in order to force her part in their stage-play.

It was as she spotted even inanimate objects, the advertisements outside of stores, growing crazier that the asian woman found the closest wall available to lean against. If ever there was a time for alcohol, in all its wondrous forms, it was when the burden of depression and hopelessness was building on her slender shoulders. Threatening to cripple her, as her eyes found nothing mundane about the world around her. Even with the nihilism settling on her mind like an unwanted blanket, her stoic behavior remained; there was no great outburst of emotion, no sobbing in the streets, or even anger as most would use to react to it. Just...a greater manifestation of apathy.

With little but an image stolen from a pocketwatch to focus on, she pulled her cellphone free from her pocket and called her office. She waited patiently for whoever would answer, eyes staring blankly ahead of her, then started talking.

"Michi Bessho. I am at the new building site and request a list of the office doors in our building, as well as their distinguishing features. As fast as you can."

[Bladehunter217]

What in the hell could have replaced her so damn fast? Best to play along, if she was somehow replaced, I shouldn't upset her or I'm mad and I might as well take advantage of it. Maybe o can have it make a mistake. "I have heard of a birdman Naomi, did it give you something?" Tilburr enters the small room, picking up anything not nailed down and hoping to find something interesting. Closing his eyes he recalls his old home and one of the gardeners. That old man always got strange when I would get too close to his garden, said he kept a few herbs at all times to ward off spirits. Never was a believer in that mystical nonsense but maybe there was something to it. He turned over the space a few times before looking at Naomi. "Isn't Reed with you? I would have thought a Skepper would already know."

[Sir Dancealot]

"Not that I know of. Other place?" She asked absently as she fiddled with the watch. Finally depressing the button as she finished speaking, she gave off a wordless burst off success. Whereupon she proceeded to frown at the watch. "Alright Mr. Watch. That's not how you're supposed to look..." She muttered to herself as she began fiddling with the nob again.

There was no doubt that this place was strange, and this watch was Very strange. For one, the birdman had it on him/her/it. Maybe it did something? Maybe she was crazy. Crazy people didn't usually think they were crazy, and she didn't think she was crazy. Maybe that meant she was crazy? Maybe it was a dream and the little asian woman was really just an ******* figment of her imagination. "Show me your secrets watch..."

Now she was talking to inanimate objects. It's not like anything was going to talk back. Maybe Tilbur.

[Rith]

Tilburr walked past Naomi as she asked what he meant by 'other place', and put his shoulder against the big, metal door, using all his strength to push it open while he replied to her mention of the birdman, "Bird? I heard Reed shouting something about a Birdman. Did he give you that watch? It looks like a nice watch," by this time the door to the basement was open, revealing, to Naomi, a cluttered basement full of ancient equipment, like furnaces and boilers, which produced walls, turning the basement into a maze. The crazy Tilburr strolled inside this basement and, reaching into a furnace, pulled out a chunk of coal to start fiddling with, before turning around and replying, "No, Reed isn't with me. I thought he was with you... down here. They didn't have him when they came back up."

Meanwhile, the watch wasn't cooperating, and even seemed to grow heavy, like it wanted Naomi to grow tired of carrying it and to let it go.



Tilburr strolled past Naomi, and with a little effort, got the door to this bottom basement to open, asking, in the meantime, if the birdman had given her anything. At this, crazy Naomi looked at him, and held out her empty hand to him, "I think it's a watch, but I can't see it. I think the big bird dropped it on the stairs and I picked it up, but it's hiding from me, and I can't see it. I think it's alive. Can you see it? It's in this hand."

On the other side of the wall was a large basement that was mostly open, but which had several pipes and breaker boxes spread throughout. Even as Tilburr looked for something to pick up, he wasn't able to spot anything that wasn't attached to the wall or a pillar.



Closing the door to the sea of desks, Toby turned and continued on up the stairwell, past more graffiti that seemed to be directed at him, marveling at the ruin as he crossed the topmost basement, the parking garage, which was filled with giant concrete blocks that had apparently fallen from the ceiling above.

Finally, he broke free onto the ground level, where the construction was still underway, clouds of cement dust wafting over the scene like dry fog. Yet, as he stood there, just outside the building, there was no sound, just the howling of the wind overhead. There were no footsteps, no power drills, and no cranes moving about, just that wind. Then again, that wind was there, howling overhead, yet the air was still and unmoving.

If he were to wander about through the cloud of concrete dust, he'd discover that there was no one here. There were still the lunch bags, which looked like they'd been sitting there for years, and power tools, covered in rust, laying about. Yet no people. Eventually, he'd reach the edge of the site and find the ambulance which he had been destined to board, still sitting there, devoid of life, all four tires flat, a rear door laying on the ground beside it, the entire vehicle covered in rust.

But then, before he could leave, a figure, a person, in this empty world, could be seen through the fog. It was hazy at first, but then, as he drew closer to Toby, he came into focus.

It was Riggins. Except, instead of the marcher's baton he had carried before, now he carried a king's scepter made out of plastic, a plastic crown atop his head instead of his usual hard hat. As he approached, his eyes locked on Toby, he actually seemed to flicker, vanishing for a moment before reappearing, like a bad recording. When he was close enough to speak, he did, but his voice was dull and distant, and he didn't make any sense, "I need to build this building! I don't have time to listen to you criticizing my work! Besides, I do my job and I do it correctly! Why would I have missing concrete! Why aren't they out of my basement yet?! I need to build this building! Why can't he collect his last worker?!"

As he ranted without reason, the cement cloud thinned, and a building came into view behind King Riggins, and someone had painted words on it in seven-foot tall letters: "Kill Him!" with an arrow that seemed to be pointing at Riggins at the moment...



"Hello. I don't like the script they give us, so I'm not going to read it. My name is Ashley. What do you need? I hope it's something easy. If it's something hard, I'm going to transfer you and get someone else to handle it. I don't want to have to exert myself too much," a voice came on the other side of the phone, before pausing long enough for Michi to put forward her request for info, to which Ashley replied, "Oh, well, okay, I suppose that's not too hard, and I can waste time listing off all the doors and won't have to take other calls. I might have to ask some of my managers about the doors at the higher floors, but that should be easy enough. Now, there's the front door, it's glass and a revolving door..."

The woman on the other side of the phone went on and on and on for the next twenty-five minutes, listing off doors, before she finally came to the door that would fit Michi's memory, "Then there's the door to Mr. Hinge's office at the front-end of the building on the top floor. It looks like mahogany, is all patterned with lion heads and stuff, and has ferns to either side. Then..." but that was likely all that Michi needed to know, and she could hang up at any moment, unless she had more questions. However, this was not likely to be high on her to-do list, as something had begun happening in front of her a few seconds ago...

While Ashley named off doors, a figure had locked eyes on her through the crowd, and had started walking forward. It looked like a man in a brown, tweed suit at first, but as it drew closer, it came into focus, and it's face was blank, with no discerning features, pale skin, and no nose. It's eye sockets were actually empty, and darkness shone in those pits, beneath a brow which bore no eyebrows, a bald head above that. After a moment of walking forward, it lifted a hand to it's empty face, and spoke, "We found one of them. Come to me and we shall hunt her."

[Deathkeeper]

As I made it to the ground level, a thought crossed my mind that would change me forever.
I had gone through three different variations of that stairwell, and I hadn't made ONE "another unfamiliar ceiling" reference. Dammit, I'd blown my chance forever! Well, now I'm just irritated as well as freaked out, scared out of my mind, and confus-
Oh, great. Just fan-friggin-tastic. It's this guy again. As if I hadn't had to deal with his nauseatingly annoying voice enough today. Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration. His voice wasn't that annoying, it's that of all the nonsense people had been spouting after things went sideways today, his was the most nonsensical. It was just absolutely infuriating. I don't know if it had anything to do with the real person, but it sure seemed like it did. The other people's doubles were weird but...somewhat parallel with what they were like. I think? I admit, I didn't know them all that well.

"Oh my God, shut up! Do you not hear yourself? Your job is answering to your superiors, and they sent us to check on you! Humoring us is your job! Yelling at us is yelling at the bureaucracy, and that never works. And besides, don't you know that one of the first rules of construction is 'don't rush it?' If the place collapses it's all on you for being such a jackass about getting it done so fast! And the only reason any of this is happening is because you had to be an ass and antagonize everything! You're a manager, aren't you? Shut up and manage!"

I shouted at the phantom. Well, that felt good. Now- wait what, KILL him? Why the heck would I kill him? HOW would I kill him, all I've got is a pen knife. I mean, I wouldn't in the first place, but that's still a pretty extreme expectation. Besides, for all I know killing him kills the actual guy, and being an ass is no reason to off a guy. Well, tell that to the mafia sometime, but to normal people that's no reason!
I certainly wasn't going to commit homicide on a ghost, even if the world was telling me to. So I just walked off. With any luck outside the construction zone is somewhere that makes sense.

[Hazuki]

"Thanks." Michi said to Ashley, her building-exploring finished and all the information that Michi needs already settling into her mind. She keeps a steady gaze on the oddly-faced creature as it approaches, pocketing her cellphone and staring at it for a few moments longer as she listens to the creature talk about how it plans to hunt her down. To her face, even. And obviously, trusting her perception is not something that's viable, especially if she were to commit violence against whatever was the true form of the man. Or his mirror counterpart in another world. But, at this point, she's beyond caring about repercussions in real life; unless the crazy lasts, she won't even stay in an asylum for long, and if it does, well...she'll be too crazy to care.

The baggy-dressed woman takes a few steps through the crowd, until she's standing about twenty feet away from the creature and staring right into its empty sockets. "Don't try." She tells the creature, firmly, but not too loudly. "You won't get anything out of me. No amusement, not even pity, and you won't get any thanks. I've got nothing worth anything to anyone, so go away." She says, reaching down to her water bottle and drinking a mouthful. "Clear?"

[Rith]

Michi, displaying her immense resilience to the unsettling, did not even squint to see if maybe her eyes were fooling her and perhaps this figure wasn't a noseless, eyeless man in a brown tweed suit, and instead boldly walked up to it, and flatly told it that it would not achieve anything by trying to hunt her. However, before the word 'thanks' had even left her lips, the monster, now only a foot away from her, lunged forward, it's pasty, white lumps for hands outstretched to clasp at the small, Asian woman.

With supernatural speed, those disgusting hands wrapped around Michi's neck, and contracted, forcing the air from reaching her lungs and forcing her body backwards several steps as well. The figure in the brown tweed suit tried to knock her off her feet, but she was able to react before that happened, and she managed to escape the clutches of those clammy hands. However, even as she took a step back, she spotted more pale monsters through the crowd, making beelines for her and the first tweed suit to have found her. It looked like there weren't many options, exactly, at the moment.



Riggins seemed to flicker and fade on the spot, yet, still, he swelled with indignation at Toby's words, "My superiors?! I head this entire project! The only people even indirectly above me would have to listen me at this construction site, and besides, they trust me! It's your idiotic company that demanded, on short notice, that they send over an inspection team! It's not my fault you had your numbers incorrect, and focused on the issue for the majority of the tour as though it were my mistake! It's not-" but whatever Riggins had thought to reply to Reed next, never came, as the Plastic King vanished once more, and, this time, did reappear.

Wandering off, away from the construction sight, Toby emerged from the cloud of cement, and discovered a yellow sky overhead, with black clouds being blown across it by that droning wind, lightning flashing in the distant clouds. The city itself was just like the construction site: empty, ransacked, abandoned for decades, littered with trash, graffiti'd, and disturbing. The streets were the same, and cars, rusted, burnt, tireless hulks, littered the scene, much as though they had just paused in the middle of downtown traffic and been left that way for a century. Skyscrapers stood like giant tombstones, casting deep shadows over the scene, shadows which, as time wore on, Toby grew more and more uneasy of, until he spotted a new message painted across an abandoned storefront: "Where are you Going, Madman?"

[Deathkeeper]

I stared pretty blankly as Riggins gave me his rebuttal. I clenched my fists in anger, but before I knew it, he was gone, seemingly for good. I didn't say anything out loud. I just kept going. One step at a time. Was I heading home, back to the office, or nowhere? I wasn't even paying attention. I didn't care. I was tired. I wanted to be anywhere else, maybe even anyone else if I was going to keep getting hit with the crazy bat.
Where are you Going, Madman?

I stared at the message, stared for a good twenty seconds before I opened my mouth again. I felt so frustrated, over and over and over again I just felt frustrated. I kept exploding, and I was running out of stamina for it all. I don't think I could have possibly taken much more.
"Where am I going? How the bloody hell should I know where I'm going? We heard they wanted a team, they heard we did. Someone set all of this crap up, then? For what, for who? Why in God's name did I get stuck in the middle of it all? I've chased Birdmen, shadows are chasing me, and the god-damn world is writing me messages. The post-apocalyptic world, I might add. I just want to go home and not get thrown in a mental institute forever. Where am I going? I want to survive first, and do it comfortably second. If you've got some directions, then I'd love to see 'em."

[Sir Dancealot]

Naomi almost glared at the watch. She almost threw it in frustration. But somehow, she knew that the watch wanted her to do just that. It wanted her to set it down and walk away. She didn't know why she thought this. Perhaps she was crazy. Perhaps she had finally snapped. Whatever it really was, she wasn't going to do what this watch wanted. Instead, she jabbed its face with her short index finger, speaking under her breath in time with her jabs. "Listen here watch. I may be insane, but you're hiding something. This'll go one of two ways, eventually you'll give up your secrets, or I'll break you in such a way that can't be repaired because I'm not a damn sentient-watch maker. It's your choice you shiny bastard."

She finished it all with a quick glare before she glanced up at Tilburr. "They?" she asked before looking back down at the watch. Wait. Was he fiddling with coal?

[Hazuki]

Michi grunted as she felt a pair of strong hands wrap around her slender neck, eyes narrowing as she was cut-off mid-sentence and the creature bolted across the courtyard just to make her shut up. She hopped into the air as it attempted to strengthen its grip, make her fall to the ground, and slammed her leg into the side of its kneecaps, following the momentum up by pushing her body around with all her force to slam her elbow into the side of the monster's head. As it staggered and released her, she glared down at it and regained her posture.

"Listen next time, bitch." Michi spat at the creature, then span her head around in search of whatever escape routes happened to be available in the shop-lined street. Her mind drifted to her lessons, and what she should do when facing multiple assailants. Thin their numbers as quickly as possible, minimize their advantage, and commit as little as possible, because she would be punished if she gave them an opening. They had height, speed, and numbers, while she was all by herself...with an environment she could exploit. To get away, at the very least. And people that at least seemed to follow a logical baseline.

First thing first, distract the foe with the most common resource. "TERRORIST!" Michi screeched at the top of her lungs, pointing an accusing finger at the tweed-suited man as she backed a few feet away in a fake panic. "THAT MAN HAS A BOMB!" Given the fondness in America for guns, vigilante justice, and violence making heroes, she was confident that declaration would manage to set off the ticking timebomb that is the American people. Whether she got the tweed-suited creatures shot, or fleeing civilians bombard them and prevent their advancement, it was a good enough start.

Then, shops. They had plenty of things for her to use as a weapon, defense, or obstacles to put in her wake, but they were far more likely to have blocked exits, or repercussions for stealing even if she paid in a hurry. So alleyways become the next best option. The men in suits could only telepathically locate themselves, else they wouldn't have been spread all over the city in search of the "them" she was a part of, so they couldn't track her, but she could use the winding alleyways and further crowds, when she dashed between them, to lose the men. So that's where she started, dashing for the nearest alleyway with the sole intent to escape.

[Bladehunter217]

Play along Tilburr, you don't know if she might be violent. The quiet ones often are. "A beautiful watch to be sure. You said the bird dropped it? Was that the same bird Reed saw earlier or are there more than just the one?" Tilburr circles the room one last time, returning to the metal doors. "Come along Naomi, we've a conspiracy to prove." He frowns at Naomi's empty hand before gesturing for her to follow.

[Rith]

Tilburr cocked his head to one side as Naomi asked who he meant by 'they', "You know. Riggins and all the guys who were trying to catch Toby and put him in the special van. He must have hidden somewhere down here, because I didn't see him when they came back up. I hope he's not still around, because he was acting mighty strange, and strange means dangerous," he glanced sidelong at Naomi, "But let's find something worth finding in this big basement," and with that, he tossed the lump of coal off to the side, and turned around on the spot, between the walls of equipment towering to either side of him, looking as though he were trying to find something.

(Commentary: Tilburr only caught Toby mentioning the birdman for a single moment, and the corresponding crazy Tilburr never heard even that moment, as the real Toby had escaped into the basement by then. Thus, even though real Tilburr is talking about a birdman being related to Toby, crazy Tilburr doesn't have any info about that, and thus his comments and questions do not include any mention of Toby being related to the Birdman.)



Naomi perked up a bit when Tilburr said that he thought the watch was marvelous, "You can see it?! Tell me, what's it like? I know it's there, but I can't see it. I can't feel it either. It's like my hand is empty, but that would be crazy. I'm not crazy, Tilburr, am I? I just saw a big bird."



Toby screamed at the graffiti in rage as it seemed to mock him. Yet, even after he suggested that the post-apocalyptic world give him some advice, the graffiti sat there, mocking, asking him where he was going. Perhaps it might be a good idea to find an answer to that question. Find a goal. Maybe he could figure out where the ambulance had been going, and he could go to that hospital, and link back up with Collins. Or maybe there was some secret at the office which he could unlock. Or maybe he might just go to his apartment and see what he could find there. Maybe he might just try and leave the borders of the city, and see if he could find anything better out there. Heck, maybe it might be a good idea to just pick a building and search it.



Michi needed a way out, as abominations came in at her from all directions, the one which had clamped down on her neck already regaining it's posture to make another lunge for her, once again standing about twenty feet away, it's emotionless face trained on her. Some of the insane freaks milling about in the street, meanwhile, where turning to look at Michi as though she was acting strange. Out of all the people present, including the man wearing the striped blue & red stovepipe hat, that she was the oddity. As this attention was turned to her, however, it made it somewhat easier for her next move to work, as she pointed and bellowed words designed to induce panic.

It had the desired effect. People turned in the direction she was pointing, and screamed. The vast majority of civilians simply started sprinting away in all directions at once, but a few, including one man with a military bearing, barreled forward, looking about to tackle the creature head on.

Yet, they passed the monster by and instead tackled a confused looking college student behind it, prompting the monster to look back, "Silly mortal. These don't think. They obey their masters, and their masters don't see us. They believe you pointed at that poor mortal behind me. So the master acts on it's information, and these obey their masters, even though they can see us."

But, in all likelihood, Michi had already taken off for the alleyway.

It was a wide alley, and fairly well maintained, with only a small amount of trash laying here and there, and even paved completely, instead of some of those gravel alleyways in the city. It was easy to run down. However, as she was only halfway down, another abomination had appeared at exit, blocking her way. Glancing around, she saw three options: First, she could attack the abomination and see about breaking through. Second, she could break through a wooden door to her left. Third, she could jump onto the fire escape above her head and climb away.

(Depending on what you choose, you will earn your first skill. If you go with combat, it will be a combat skill. If you go with the door, it will be a physical skill. If you go with the fire escape, it will be an agility skill. Regardless, the roll will be 4d6-4. The idea is that she goes with what she's best at.)

[Hazuki]

Michi sprints as quickly as her lithe legs will carry her, loafers pounding against the paved alleyway and her eyes flicking from side to side in search of options even as she discovers the creature attempting to block her exit somehow. The efficiency of these creatures' telepathy seems awfully efficient to her, unless one of them already decided to take a shortcut through the alleyway, it would require the ability to single out a single one of them out of whatever crowd consciousness they have, as well as the ability to give explicit orders and knowledge along with their commands. Or perhaps they were simply that well-connected, in a non-physical manner, to the city.

The door will just lead to a cramped environment she can't even be certain will have an exit, while the fire escape will just make her an easier to spot target, and require her to leap across rooftops at some point. No, there's only one way out of this, and that involves besting another one of the walking abominations - and their wearers, too. As she keeps up her speed, arms swinging in the air to maximize her momentum, she remembers what she's already learned of the creatures; they're capable of bursts of speed, have a strong grip once it's been established, but their height makes them a little bit easier to stagger than most. Larger targets tended to have that problem, no matter their strength, if they didn't have much leverage against the ground.

So as Michi darts ahead, she drifts to one side of the alleyway to make as though she's going to try to slip past it, then pushes her foot hard against the wall and hurls herself across the last few feet, slamming her foot against the creature's knee as the rest of her body aims to land and keep on running on the opposite edge of the alleyway.

[Deathkeeper]

I sighed. I didn't know what to do. Where do I go? The construction site had nothing to offer. The graffiti there had been of the office, maybe there is where my next goal should be? I didn't know. I would get hungry and thirsty soon; I had to hurry if I was to go anywhere if that rule of nature still applied.
Home. That would be where things I could use would be, or at least useful things whose whereabouts I'm familiar with. It wasn't all that far, truth be told. Just a few blocks, a half hour walk really.
I started that way.
I could get supplies back home if this apocalypse filter hadn't destroyed the place. If I could get some food or water I could at least satisfy myself, and it I could grab a crowbar or something I would be at least better prepared for a possible raid on the office.
So down that way I went, although I kept a look out for any storefronts that seemed to still have anything useful still lying about.

[Bladehunter217]

Tillbur relaxed, apparently when Naomi goes insane she becomes a sweet innocent child. Grumpy Naomi or ceazy Naomi, I'm not certain which I prefer. Grumpy is more realistic but crazy is amusing. I've never liked children but a childish Naomi isn't completely horrid. "Its a nice watch, I cannot seem to make it out clearly, perhaps it doesn't want to be observed. Of course you aren't crazy little one, it's just been a trying day."

[Sir Dancealot]

Naomi frowned at the watch again, deciding not to smash it, yet at least, she stuffed it deep into a pocket, tapping it every now and again to make sure it didn't hop out. She blinked up at Tillbur as he spoke, and then actually looked at the room. Why the hell were there boilers down here? Had they hit part of the city that the building was being built over? "Uh. Yeah. Lets go do that then." She replied, keeping a distance between the two of them as she followed, looking around as she did. Had the birdman gone through here?

[Rith]

"You're right. It doesn't want to be observed," Naomi replied to Tilburr, pausing for a few seconds as she stared down at her empty hand. Then, pantomiming putting the invisible watch in her pocket, she seemed to perk up, "Well, I'll figure it out later. Let's take a look in this weird basement," and walked past Tilburr into the spacious, empty place. However, as Tilburr watched her walk, she was walking in a strange manner as well. Instead of roaming across the blank canvas of a basement, she went down a few feet, and turned, as though finding a corner, and then again elsewhere. She even doubled back a couple of times in response to what must have been a dead end. This was odd. What could cause a person to perceive an open space as a maze? Though, after a while, Tilburr watched as she came up on side of the basement, and heard her say, "Talking door."

This was a good twenty minutes in. Chance were that Riggins would be coming down soon to try and fetch them. In fact, it was amazing he hadn't already.



There were far fewer clues in this basement to track the birdman by. The floor was newly hardened concrete, and the walls of this bizarre maze were all metal. In didn't look like he had left any trace behind, and neither had he dropped any more watches. To make matters worse, the basement was in fact occupied by a maze of equipment, and Naomi had to wander about aimlessly to even hope of gaining the trail of the birdman again. Tilburr, behind her, did not seem to be too focused on keeping up. Then again, if Naomi decided to actually take a closer look at the boilers and ancient refrigeration units, she'd find all sorts of stamps listing where they had been constructed, and when. There were a few that were completely nonsensical as well. For example, one furnace had a stamp on the inside of the door which read, "Made in Kitchen. 1213 BC." A unpleasant feeling crept up the back of her neck as she put her head close enough to read that stamp, as though the furnace was waiting for her to lean a few more inches forward so it could bite her head off. Why this particular mental popped into her mind was anyone's guess.

Then, aftera while, she came across something really unusual. One passage in this labyrinth led directly to the wall, and on this wall, there was a tiny door, about a foot tall, looking like an old Victorian-style door in this modern office building, and it had no handle, but instead possessed a bright gold lion's head knocker. However, as soon as she had finished taking this sight in, the door knocker spoke, "Oh hi! More mortals? What an eventful day. Are you wanting to take the elevator too? Or are you here to chat. I should warn you, of course, I am terrible at conversations. I never have any material to bring up. I mean, there's not much to being a door. Oh, but that sounds like I'm depressed. I'm not depressed, I'm really quite happy to be a door. Especially a talking door. How many doors get the opportunity to talk. Not many, I bet. I wonder if I'll ever meet another talking door. I bet I'd have some good conversations if I did. Oh, but listen to me, I'm attached to the wall. It's not like I can go and find other doors to talk to," and did not look to be taking a breath any time soon.



The tweed abomination seemed ready to lunge at Michi when she passed by, but then the office girl used her ninja skills to completely wreck the abomination's life. Then, as quickly as she had spotted the figure in her way, it was laying on the ground and she was past it, breaking out into a back street, with much less foot traffic, though it was a little more congested due to the screaming people running by in fear of the false terrorist. Maybe the civilians present would have figured out that the stranger did not in fact have a bomb and come after her to give her a stern talking to, but she was running with everybody else. Probably not a priority for them.

However, as Michi ran and evaluated where to go next, she kept spitting more of those pale, eyeless men in the crowd, making their way for her, and never running, only walking, calmly and patiently, towards her. Yet even as she ran, she never seemed to be getting farther away. How many were there? Where did they keep coming from? There had to be at least two dozen total that she had seen already, and they did not appear to be thinning anytime soon. Maybe it was time for a change of tactic?



The apartment building where Toby lived was halfway across the destroyed city, so Toby had quite a bit of walking to do. By anyone's estimate, he'd be able to get there by sundown at least, of course. However, it was quite the ways to walk, and there was not much to do in this place. The office and hospital were both closer, but, really, there was more familiarity and reliability in his own home. Once he got there, there were all sorts of things he could grab, including an old baseball club, in case monsters in the darkness came after him again. Crowbar would still be better, of course.

Even so, as he walked, his spirits might take a bit of a beating, as it looked like everything, storefronts, apartments, even the police department, had been looted, overrun by gangs, and then abandoned years ago. Why would his place by any different?

However, when he was about three blocks from the apartment, and the sun was dipping pretty low over the horizon, something happened which he might not have been expecting.

"Come on, we're going to be late for class," came a voice to his right. Looking over, he'd spot a girl about his age, with burgundy hair and pale skin, wearing a black, spaghetti strap tank top, and some tight jeans, and a book bag, a notebook clutched in one hand and a pen in the other. The iconic look of a college student. A strange mirage of perfection in a blasted world. The girl raised an eyebrow, "What is it? You look like you've seen a ghost... Come on, class starts in 10 minutes. You don't want to be tardy, or Dr. Fehoose will give you extra assignments."

[Deathkeeper]

What.
I mean, it should have been really simple. A nice, pretty girl should not have felt like one of the weirdest things I've seen all day. And yet she did, if only due to how incredibly out of place she was, and how she seemed not to notice the complete devastation around her. Was she human? Or just something to lure me away somewhere? I couldn't know for sure, and every alarm in my brain screamed at me, but I couldn't let go of this chance at normal human interaction, this possible vestige of sanity.
"I think you're mistaken. I don't know you, and it's a little late for classes to be starting. Who's Dr. Fehoose? There aren't any schools around here, last I checked..." I said, just barely managing to control my voice enough to keep it steady.

[Hazuki]

Michi darts through the crowd, using some fancy footwork to dodge through them and target one of the Slendermans closest to her. She slams her foot into the front of its knee and attempts to snatch whatever device they use for communicating from its head, assuming it's an earpiece from the last one she got a good look at. Then, she takes off, pulling out her cellphone, she flicks to the loudest, screechiest music clip on her phone, then holds down the communication button on the device, turns her cellphone up to the loudest volume it can go, and clutches them both together in one hand, phone speakers pushed against the mouthpiece. With any luck, it will create a potent feedback loop.

[roll0] (Bonuses unknown)

[Bladehunter217]

Trapped in a maze? Wonder if there's cheese at the end. Tilburr follows Naomi, trying to step into her imaginary maze. Maybe he hit his head and this was what happened when you were in a coma. Tilburr felt his blood pressure rise, all this insanity was grating on him. He came to America to live a normal life not test how many people can have mental breakdowns before their employers offer decent health insurance. "You lead the way little one. Labyrinths have never been a great interest of mine."

[Sir Dancealot]

Naomi blinked slowly as the door garbled on. The fact that it could even do so was a bit strange. But, by this point, strangeness seemed almost normal. At the moment, she was just trying to figure out how to interupt the door without being rude. There didn't really seem to be a way. She could always just leave, but she doubted the sort of crazy around her would let her go that easily. Idly, she wondered how most people would react to being talked at by a door. They'd probably freak out a bit. That would be nice wouldn't it?

But alas, freaking out could get her eaten by a door. That would be a slightly silly headline wouldn't it? "Excuse me uh... Friend Door, you spoke of another mortal, might you tell me who that was? But first, might you have a name?" Great. Now she was talking in a strangely proper fashion. If she kept up with that, she'd revert to thee and thou.

[Rith]

"Name? Me? Oh, don't be silly. I'm just a door. Doors aren't important enough to have names. But I'm flattered that you would think I had one. You mortals sure are silly like that, though. The guys who built the wall I'm attached to called this place the 'creepy basement.' I don't understand why. It's just full of memories and machines. Those don't creep. They hardly even move at all. How could the basement be creepy if nothing creeps? Like I said, silly mortals. Like that guy who came through here, he wanted to go through me, and said that another person had gone through me, which is just stupid as persons are too big to go through me. I sent him down the elevator a while ago. Never got his name, though. He must be a really important thing, that he gets his own name. Then again, all persons give each other names, and I don't know that half of them really warrant names. Maybe he was really important, though. After all, he did go down the elevator with no complaints. Though, I still wonder if the elevator goes sideways or back and forth. Hope he's important enough to come back up the elevator as well. Oh, right, who was he? Haven't the faintest clue, but he was a he-person, and had brown hair with blue eye... then again, it might have been blue hair and brown eyes..."



Stress was mounting upon Tilburr as he followed Naomi along in her invisible maze. Half the people who had gone on this trip had flipped out. There had to be something going on here. The one thing all three cases, Oliver, Naomi, and Toby, had in common, were that they had been by themselves for a noticeable period of time...

Tilburr's eyes were playing tricks on him, as he caught things in his peripheral vision, but turned to find nothing there. Then he heard something. A voice, very distantly, "then again, it might have been blue hair and brown eyes... say, are you going to take that elevator?"

There was what looked like the afterimage of an elevator showing up on the wall behind Naomi, and those things in his peripheral vision kept coming closer.



"...say, are you going to take that elevator?" the lion door paused. At the same time, Tilburr showed up behind Naomi... except he wasn't muttering like before.



Michi was in a bad spot. Monsters were coming down on her from all directions, the world around her was in a panic, meaning that she was in mild danger of being knocked down, and she could perceive a way out. However, with a quick wit, the adaptive Japanese woman decided upon a plan, and shot out across the street, but instead of running away from the abominations, she was running towards one.

If the figure she was charging felt any surprise at it's quarries actions, it did not show it. Perhaps it's failure to respond as Michi kicked it's knee out was a sign of bewilderment, but it's facial expression did not change. Not that it possessed that many facial expressions to display, with that pale, grotesque face poking out of that tweed suit.

A tiny earbud sat in it's left ear, with deft hands, Michi removed it, pulled out her phone, and, in a move worthy of James Bond, poured the most overwhelming sound into the ears if all the abominations listening. As she held the two together, she could see the abominations on the tops of the stores doubling over and collapsing. Well, they might be eldritch abominations, but they were still using real-world technology, which might be perceived as a little odd, at the very least. Well, the job was done, and she had about 10 seconds to act before they recuperated, as she could already see a few taking out their earbuds.

However, there was one abomination who was not affected by the sudden explosion of screeching noise in it's ear. Sure, it was suffering from a damaged knee, but it had Michi within it's reach. And lashed out, trying to damage her knee to bring her down like him. (Roll 4d6-5 to try and evade the attack. If you roll 10+, you get hit. Also, include 4d6-4 for your next action as well, whatever it may be.)



The girl cracked a smile at Toby's words, then actually laughed, a beautiful, genuine laugh, that would make anyone at least smile a bit, "What are you talking about, silly? The university is right there," she pointed over her shoulder, at a building, which, honestly, looked to be in better condition than the others around it. Stepping forward, she went on, "Dr. Fehoose is the professor. He's a very clever man, and has mastered many different subjects. He'll be starting his lecture on architecture here soon. You don't want to miss it either. I hear he really knows some fascinating stories about the Sydney Opera House."

The girl was close now, and looped her arm around Toby's arm, "And no, I don't know you, but I'm not mistaken. I could tell you were looking for answers, so I came over to help. You are looking for answers, aren't you? Then come on, class starts in only 8 minutes!"

[Hazuki]

Michi lets out a grunt as the Slenderman lashes out at her leg, feeling its hand slam into her leg. Rather than attempt to punish it for its offense, she keeps sprinting towards the nearest subway entrance. She keeps a tight grip on her impromptu screw-the-Slendermans device, knowing that she can at least stop their devices from helping them navigate, even if they don't stay debilitated.[roll0]
[roll1]

[Deathkeeper]

I felt better as she laughed. I felt like I should not be letting my guard down, but I did, just a little. Maybe there were normal people on this side of things? Or at least somewhat benevolent beings that looked like them. I'd gladly take either of those things.
And if it's a trap, well, my chances of survival didn't seem that good to me anyway.
I looked down at the arm looped around mine, then back up to the girl.
"Well alright, but at least give me a name to call you by, Miss." I tried to ask politely.

[Bladehunter217]

Paranoia is healthy, keeps you out of all kinds of trouble. Seeing things just out of sight for instance was good, made you suspicious of the things around you, kept you from getting caught in a trap. At least that's what Tilburr used to think. Now things weren't as clear.Could be anything, I'd better not be crazy. I may have backup plans in case I ever lost my job but not all of them would be worth anything if I were mad. This is all a load of ****, don't care how you look at it. Time to get a few answers. "Naomi, this is a tad ridiculous, would you mind explaining why an elevator only half exists in front of us? What of that voice and you were able to find your way through the maze that wasn't there. You must know something. It appears as though we are stuck in the twilight zone." It really is isn't it. Two objects trying to fit in one place, makes the people who see both think they are mad. Next thing you know we'll be locked up and new versions of us will replace us.

[Sir Dancealot]

Naomi listened to the blathering door, trying to catch everything. It was working... Mostly. She missed some, bu thay was to be expected when confronting a babbling door she supposed. There were a couple of things that caught her attention. Well, mainly one. "Memories? How is the room full of memories?" Yes, out of all of that, that was specifically what she latched onto. To be fair, any room could hold menories.

But she had a feeling that this room held them in a different way than other rooms. Of course, that was when Tilburr started speaking. At least he wasn't muttering anymore. She turned slighty, "Please Tilburr, can't you see I'm talking to the door?" She admonished him before turning to listen to the door.

[Rith]

Tilburr's vision and hearing continued to play tricks on him. At one point, the elevator was an afterimage, then it wasn't there at all, but there was a much smaller door there, with a lion's head door knocker, it's jaw moving in time with that voice which grew closer with each passing moment, "Halfway existing? That's a neat trick. Where is that elevator. Everything I know either exists all the way or doesn't exist at all. But, I suppose I don't know any things that don't exist at all. Nor do I know any things that exist only halfway either, but then again, existing is weird. Like, I exist. How does that work?"

Then the little door was gone, and the elevator was back, now in sharp focus, but now Naomi was gone, and the elevator was on the side of a large rock, while, all around Tilburr stood ancient trees, bare of leaves, and, to his left, a man-sized, leather shoe balanced on it's toes. Meanwhile, that voice continued, but moved much deeper and booming overhead, as though it were the voice of some deity, and it spoke in reverse, "?work that does How .exist I Like,"

Then Tilburr blinked, and he was back in the basement. Or, at least, the basement that Naomi was in, with the maze of machine and Naomi kneeling before a talking door, whom she was listening to speak, "Like, I exist. How does that work? Whoa. Deja vu. I feel like I've said that before," but as far as Naomi had heard, he had only said it once, "Anyways, what? Oh, memories, right. It's weird how those things exist too. I don't know how they exist or how they're here, but they do, I know it, it's a thing I know. I think it's something to do with words. Memories are always memories of things, places, or events. A moment preserved into existence, a memento within the mind. Mementos are connected to memories, each memento containing within it a connection, purely mental, to a memory. So it stands to reason that memories can be connected to objects. A place and a point in time is all that is truly needed and a memory can be located. Strange that an existence can be summed up thusly. 'Thusly?' What a weird word. I was talking kind of funny for a moment there. Moment, memento, memory. Words are weird. You know, I can't keep the elevator up all day, and I'm not supposed to even know it exists, so yeah, you gonna chase after that guy, or can I let it drop?"

Just then, the metal doors at the entrance of the basement could be heard opening, and Riggins could be heard, "Tilburr, what are you and that woman doing down here! You should have left by now!"



The girl with burgundy hair smirked at Toby, "You can call me Viola. Now, just walk with me," and with that, they were off, taking a nice stroll through the deserted street towards the pristine university, with it's large front doors, standing proud behind green-and-white painted pillars easily forty feet tall, and it's great, sweeping arches. There were still a few people trickling inside when they reached those glass front doors, and it looked like most students were already inside, but as Toby approached those doors, and spotted the distorted and dim reflection of himself and Viola walking forward, he there was something he wasn't perceiving correctly, as though he heard an echo in what was supposed to be a small room. But then he crossed through this doors and the feeling was gone.

Beyond the doors was a long hallway, with plaques and banners lining it to either side, but no doors. No, the only doors in this hall were the ones he had just walked through, and a set of double doors at the far end. It was towards these small doors that they now progress, passing by other students, each looking perfect. There were buff guys with nice haircuts and polo shirts, blonde guys with beanies, dreadlocks, and scruffy beards, girls with glasses and odd hats clutching heavy stacks of books, and cheerful sorority girls who moved about in small gaggles. It was a pristine depiction of a college campus. In fact, it might have even been a parody, as everything might be said to be just too perfect.

Beyond that second set of doors was a college classroom, shaped in the memory of a classic amphitheater, with each row of seats being higher than the one in front of it, and down at the bottom of the semicircle of seats, was a raised stage, with a wide desk on it, and a man in an all white suit. He looked normal at first glance, but then, after a few moments, Toby realized that his great, bald head was easily three times too large for his regular body, and covered in gray skin and dotted with piercings here and there. He wore a giant pince nez, which concealed his eyes behind two shadowy black lenses. After a moment, the bobble-headed man spoke, his voice delicate and calculated, as though he balanced each word on his tongue before tossing it out, "Alright everyone, one minute until class begins, take your seats, please."



Michi was practically knocked to the ground by the force of the abomination's swipe, but kept her footing due to her martial arts training, sliding back into a standing position just as quickly as her leg had been knocked to the side. Limping, she made her way as quickly as she could towards the subway entrance a few hundred feet away. The one who had harmed her brought it's hand up to it's white-pale face, and licked it's hand where it had touched her, it's tongue just as white as it's flesh, in lieu of chasing after her. The others, atop the buildings and in the streets, were preoccupied tearing out their earbuds and scoffing, yet their scoffs seemed animalistic, more like a gorilla grunting or a horse snorting than a man expressing disdain. They were too far behind her to catch up before she jogged down the stairs into the underground.

Down below, there was the same panic as above. Some people running down, thinking that being underground might shield them from the non-existent bomb, some running up, trying to get away from the confined space and collapsing hazard, and some arguing with one another about the best place to be. Beyond that, it was a quick act to take in the scene. There were two train tracks to either side of the platform. To Michi's left, there was a train looking just about ready to depart, and to her left, she spotted a door to a service tunnel, which immediately jumped out at her, as it was hanging off it's hinges, and was not locked. At the same time, there could be heard the shriek of a breaking train incoming from the station that the departing train was heading towards, or perhaps some other, distant station, and it would be passing through in a few seconds.

Meanwhile, the abominations could be spotted at the top of the stairs into the underground, now, making calm and orderly steps down towards the office worker.

[Hazuki]

Michi hops on to the train that's just about to depart and turns her phone's music off, after tossing the earbud at the tracks.

[Deathkeeper]

It was a bit bizarre. I mean, I couldn't help but feel like this all wasn't what it appeared. I was still waiting to find out that I was the only human here or everyone around me was secretly a werewolf or something. The place just seemed too perfect, and just a little bit off. But people beats being alone and possibly dead any day, even if it might be a trap. I just didn't have the will to deny the opportunity based on my paranoia. And truthfully if they weren't human, as long as no one was trying to eat me I couldn't care less. I turned to Viola as we found a seat.

"Okay, one minute. What is this place? I don't remember there being a college a block from home before. And what's this lecture on, anyway?"
I realized I should have looked around for a water fountain. I was getting awfully thirsty after all that walking.

[Bladehunter217]

Tilburr stands traight, turning on Riggins, looking dead eyed at the other man. "Riggins, you have absolutely horrendous timing. We just found something quite interesting. I believe I know what made my intern lose his mind." Damnit Riggins, I was quite curious about this whole twilight zone thing. Hopefully Riggins leaves, this door is rather interesting. Naomi might even be small enough to slide through it.

[Sir Dancealot]

Naomi continued to ignore pretty much anything that wasn't the door. The door was particularly interesting in the fact that it could talk, and it seemed incapable of stopping. No doubt she could talk to it for hours. "I think Tilbur, the man yelling behind me want to go onto it." She said to the door, trying to keep the elevator up a bit longer. "How do words effect the memories? And how are you keeping the elevator up? Do mind if I call you Jim?"

[Rith]

The train slowly pulled away from the station, sliding Michi into the tunnel as she limps across the virtually empty subway car, towards a seat, collapsing into it, her leg throbbing in pain. Maybe she had never had a bruised bone before, but, there's a first thing for everything, and as soon as her adrenaline faded, that leg would hurt.

However, the abominations were not going to give up that easily, as they stopped in the middle of the subway platform, and their leader looked about for a moment, taking in the broken door and the train leaving the station. After a few moments of calm contemplation, it spoke, "She either is on the train or in the service tunnels. Half go to train and half go to tunnels. Be careful in tunnels. If you slip, we cannot send ones to recover you."

Another abomination replied, it's eyeless face staring away from the leader to whom it was speaking, "Too few people on the train. We cannot send half."

The leader considered the world for a moment, then answered, "Yes, only twenty four total. Send two of our number there. The rest of that half go towards platform where the train will empty out at."

A third spoke, "The tunnels have no people. We cannot move easily within them."

"Yes, tunnels are dangerous. Keep trying your earbuds, in case the sound stopped."

Meanwhile, Michi sat there, thinking whatever it was that she was thinking, and, a few moments passed, when she felt a tug on her sleeve. Turning, she'd find herself face to face with a dirty child dressed in what looked to be a large plastic bag. After making eye contact, the child pointed to the back of the car, and, if she turned to look, Michi would see two pale, eyeless faces pop out at her, two car back from the one she was in.



Viola turned her kind eyes towards Toby as he asked his questions and expressed that he did not remember a university so close to his home. She cocked an eyebrow in confusion and smiled, bemused, at this as she settled into a seat next to Toby, sliding up close to him, so that her warm legs were touching his and he could smell what seemed to be peach perfume from her, "What, do you think you live near here? Nothing lives near here except us students. Really, I don't see why anyone would live anywhere else either. Now chill with the questions, the lecture is starting, and it's on architecture."

Indeed, the man with the head as large as his body had begun to speak, his voice reaching to every corner of the impressively large amphitheater. Toby caught what he was saying halfway through a sentence, "…a fascinating subject it is. Architecture is not exactly the art of construction buildings, such as this beautiful university, but of shapes. Shapes and purpose. Nor is it limited to buildings. You can have the architecture of a city, the architecture of a society, the architecture of a world, and the architecture of the mind. In all cases, the fundamental issue at hand is still the shape of the thing, and the purpose of it as well.

"For example, the flying buttress can take many ascetic appearances, but it's shape remains constant, as does it's reason for existing. Note that when it comes to structures, architecture is very static. Now, for the mind, a memory can both change in shape, where one year you could recall running from a small dog, and then, the next year, you could swear it had been the size of a bear, and in purpose, as, at certain times, a memory can uplift the soul, while others, it can depress it. The architecture of the mind is very morphic.

"Now, as I stated, there are the different central kinds of architecture: building, city, society, world, and mind. There are also the outlying kinds of architecture: Delphine, Te-tum-a-toodle, Unbrave, Sliry, Kolavant, and Harse-Moot. These are advanced forms, and we won't be covering them today, but do make note of them. As they are important."

Voila nudged Toby a bit, "Why aren't you taking notes?"



Riggins could be clearly heard even through the walls of machinery, and... for some reason, he was singing his words, as though he were in the opera, "I don't care what's you've found. You were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago. Now will you leave or do I have to forcibly remove you?!"

It was then that he came around the corner, and Tilburr caught full sight of him, high stepping like the leader of a marching band, and waving a baton about. Honestly, his choreography was superb, but the entire sight was unsettling.

Behind the two men, where Naomi was focused upon the door before her, well, if a door could blush, that's what Jim would be doing right now, "Jim? Do you really think I'm important enough to have a name? Well, if we're naming me, I suppose Jim is a nice name. What does it mean? Is it the name of a great traveler? Or was there some doormaker named Jim? I swear, I'm not important enough to be named, I'm just a door. It's just like you persons, to give a name where it's not necessary."

Jim paused for a few seconds, before murmuring, "Jim..." and continuing on, "Well, I suppose doors can't hold up elevators for so long either. Or at all. I don't know how I do it, I just was able to do it from that awkward moment where I started existing, but I do know I can't hold it forever, so, if your friend wants to go, he has to go, like, now. I suppose I can talk a bit more, though, while I'm here. How do words affect memories? Well, loads of ways. If I say I remember a lot of things from shortly after I began existing, a lot of memories come to mind. If I say I can't remember anything from shortly after I began existing, I fail to remember anything. If I recount a memory using a lot of angry or negative words, the memory will be different within another person's mind. The exact same is true in reverse if I use happy or positive words. Even the words within the memory can affect it, especially if your memory of the meanings of words change."

[Hazuki]

"Then show me where to go." Michi whispers to the child, taking off for a few cars ahead if the child doesn't.

[Deathkeeper]

Warning: Error. Error. Does not compute. Attractive girls do not willingly get that close to me. I had ten years of evidence for that. She's clearly an alien or something. Errorrrr!

The lecture seemed straightforward enough, actually. Some of those words were getting pretty out-there, but the basic concepts of structure and such actually did make sense. Which was probably something I didn't expect to say ever again. Then Viola nudged me. I mean, I really didn't think that this would be important since I was no student here, but I guess I might as well play along, right? I hastily grabbed my notebook from my bag and one of my favorite four-color pens. If I was good at nothing else, it was taking notes and writing quickly.
Architecture -> Shape and Purpose, For Anything
Building Arch = Static Mind Arch = Morphic
Main Categories: Building-City-Society-World-Mind
Advanced Forms (???): Delphine, Te-tum-a-toodle, Unbrave, Sliry, Kolavant, Harse-Moot (How do you spell these!?)

[Sir Dancealot]

"So the very words you use can change memories? Do you think with the right words you could change a person?" Naomi asked Jim before turning to Tilburr, "Tilburr, get in the elevator, I'll be right behind you." She turned back to the door for the moment, "And of course you should have a name. All living things should have a name. And talking things." She smiled at the door before she realized what she was doing. "Do you think I could fit through you?"

[Bladehunter217]

If you would excuse me for a moment, I would like to ponder something Mr. Riggins. Good day to you Jim and if anyone could fit through your portal and return to tell the tale, I believe Naomi would be the one." Tilburr tips an imaginary hat and steps into the elevator, looking for any buttons to press.

[Rith]

The child in the plastic bag turned around and pointed towards the front of the train. Looking that way, Michi could spot what looked to be an emergency stop lever a few cars up.



Doctor Fehoose continued on, "Now, understanding these architectures, that's what we're here for, today. But what does that knowledge earn you? Well, it can be used in two ways. One, it can allow you to see something and see what it was meant for, therefore allowing you to discern something about the thing you are observing which you couldn't have discerned without this knowledge, or it can allow you to spot weak points in something. I wonder which one you all seek?"

The entire classroom laughed at this last sentence. That was strange. It wasn't exactly a joke... was it? No time to think about it, as Fehoose was continuing, "Alright, let's begin on the topic of building architectural basics..."

The next hour was filled with ranting about different types of architectural staples. Supports, archways, and suspension bridges all detailed in brief, but impressively precise ways. Toby would find his head hurting as Fehoose went exceedingly quickly though the subject, hitting everything that existed in the topic of building architecture.

At long last, the giant-headed man paused for a moment, "All right, let's move onto mental or world architecture next. Which would you prefer?" and hands started shooting up.



Jim frowned at Naomi for a moment, and , for once, was silent. It looked like the door was thinking very hard about something. Meanwhile, Tilburr had stepped into the elevator, to find that it was ancient, but must have once been at the height of luxury. Faded velvet, an old gas lamp, the glass turned black after years of use, and even a lever, the kind you'd find in an old twenties elevator, where it went the direction you pulled. However, this one was stuck, and wouldn't allow anyone to pull it except in one direction.

After Tilburr stepped into the elevator, however, Jim finally spoke up, "You know, I'm pretty sure you're too big. I exist without a handle, to deter mortals from stepping inside, and I'm too small for a mortal to step through. Then again, I like you. You gave me a name, after all. I can't wait to tell someone about my new name, too. You'll have to crawl on your belly to get through, I think, but yeah, I'll allow you past."

With that, Jim, the door, swung forward without a sound, revealing, beyond, a long tunnel of the same vertical and horizontal dimensions as Jim, extending as far as the eye could see forward, cast in complete and total darkness, with only the light from the basement revealing a few marks on the walls near the front. Strangely, those marks reminded Naomi of equations. Really, this sight was the claustrophobes nightmare. Off to the side, Jim was still talking, "I don't know who I'm going to tell me name, however. Maybe another mortal? I don't see that many of them, except recently. Maybe it's a trend for the future. Maybe I'll meet dozens of mortals from this point forward, and they'll all know me as Jim."

Riggins, meanwhile, seemed to be frozen, staring patiently at Tilburr, as he stood in the elevator, and Tilburr decided to depart with or without Naomi.

[Hazuki]

Michi goes and pulls it.

[Deathkeeper]

Gah. It was all I could do to not have my head break from all of this. Sheesh, how the heck did he cover all of this so fast?
But then, a question. Huh? What professors schedule their lectures based on student opinions? But it might work out for me. After all, I'm stuck in a weird version of my world, right? World architecture sounds like it might hold some answers of what's going on. I mean, just what's happened right now would point to a few things that couldn't possibly be real, but clearly are. I'd be lying if I said that I had any idea of what was keeping me going, what was keeping me from just standing up and screaming.
Heh, maybe it was because I'd already done that two or three times.
So without much hope that he called on me, I raised my hand. Why not, right? If he called on me, I'd vote World.

At the back of my mind, I wondered if the whole place was just an illusion, and that a little knowledge into the mind would reveal the true shapes of everything going on around me. Nah, that's stupid. And if it was, I'd probably go nuts from the revelation, and I liked what I'd call my 'sanity.'

[Bladehunter217]

Really? That is curious, Riggins hasn't been this acknowledging of requests thus far. Must not be him. "I'll be back soon Jim, let me know if Naomi comes back and decides to leave." Tilburr reaches and pulls the lever, looking to see if there are any numbers, if none, he just pulls it as far as it goes.

[Sir Dancealot]

"Thank you Jim." Naomi says to the door as he/she/it opens. She drops and begins her crawl through the narrow space, "I'm sure someone will come by so that you can tell them your name. After all, you have all the time in the world don't you?" She asks as she slides in. At this point in time, she was rather happy to not be claustrophobic.

[Rith]

"Yes, you there. New fellow. What's your name? Toby? Well, Toby, what is your preference for the direction of our lecture? World architecture?! Well, you certainly are on the right track!" Yes, Doctor Fehoose did indeed call on the misplaced intern. Not only that, but he had immediately recognized that Toby was a new student. Out of the hundreds of face in the room, how could he have known that Toby was new. Did he know everyone?

"Well now, worlds have foundations just like anything. These foundations aren't concrete or steel, like in a building, but they do need to be deep enough to support the world above it like with any foundation. The building blocks for worlds are concepts and laws. Location, light, sentience, literature, containment, motion, emotion, interpretation, substance, void, the concept of concept, rhetoric, charge, no, yes, emptiness, philosophy, shape, or, heavens forbid, mathematics," the bobble-headed man continued as the entire class shuddered at the word 'mathematics'.

"Of course, I don't need to tell you all what a world is built on. Though, as is to be expected, the body of the structure that is a world is very difficult to describe as any particular facet which you could use to describe the world is not necessarily present in all worlds. Thus, metaphysical terms must be used. The "Gainward" and "Baseling" of a universe. These things are like the mortar and stone of a building. The Gainward, in being the possible existence, lack-of-existence, or not-anythingness, in a world, is the main fabric of that world. The Baseling, that which does not exist, but which might have existed, is the shell which helps to contain the universe within itself. Though, even these very expansive and abstract terms break down in certain situations, such as near world foundations. Really, the best hope to understand world architecture, would be to take a look at a particular world. You, Toby. What world should we dissect today?"



The train tracks screeched and everyone aboard flew forward several feet, collapsing to the ground, and even as Michi braces herself, she can't help but fall to her knees. Behind her, even the strange monsters fall forward, and one even seems to be hurt. The child in the plastic bag, for some reason, didn't even waver, and stood stock still as the subway shuddered to a halt.

Well, where to go now? The monsters are still working on getting up to come after you. Time to get away.



The elevator doors slid shut as Tilburr noticed Riggins turning around to head back up to the surface. Then the elevator shuddered into motion, sliding down, deeper into the stone at the foundation of the strange tower. Perhaps Tilburr found it odd that he had witnessed a chronologically misplaced elevator, or a talking door, but he took these things in stride, even as he had kept a level head as groups of his employees began losing their minds for no apparent reason. Of course, if he wasn't at least a bit shaken, then things might change soon, as the light in the elevator went from a flickering gas lamp to a steady, fluorescent white, and, turning, the man found himself face-to-face with a tiny tube television bolted to a stand on the wall of the elevator, displaying a black & white image of the scene from a moment ago, except there was no maze of junk in the basement, and Riggins watched as Tilburr walked in circles around Naomi, who was on her hands and knees, staring at the wall. Riggins seemed unsettled, and appeared to say something, though no sound came out of the television. Next, the Tilburr on the screen ceased his orbit, and advanced towards Riggins, shouting something. The construction manager took a step back and looked convinced that things were bad here. Turning around, he left the basement, glancing back as he went, while the crazy Tilburr resumed his circling of Naomi, who hadn't moved this entire time. The elevator continued down.

After some time, Riggins returned, with five construction workers, and, three men to Tilburr and three men to Naomi, they took them, kicking and screaming, off the screen. No, no, that couldn't be right. What was he looking at?

All of a sudden the cables supporting the elevator seemed to snap, and Tilburr was in free fall for a moment, but as soon as that terrifying sense of his stomach falling away reached his mind and he took his eyes off the television, the drop stopped, as though he had only been dropped a few inches, while the light went back to the light of a gas lamp. The elevator doors slid open, revealing...

It was the maze of machines and junk again, except that it looked to be years and years in the future, with rust and dust coating everything. At his feet were open cans of beans, perhaps eaten by some squatter years ago, and crumpled up pieces of paper. There were cracks in the ceiling, and rubble littering the ground as well, great boulders of concrete bearing graffiti, which all seemed to incorporate images of 9/11, or the world "Blair".

Where there had been a bright fluorescent light in the maze above, almost all the lights here were out or flickering. Only a single pathway was bright enough for him to follow, and, following it, he found himself led to those great steel doors, which were open, but only by a crack large enough for a person to squeeze through. On those doors was a mural, a painting in red & black spray paint, of a house, which Tilburr would recognize, as it had been the house he had lived when it had happened...

So, someone had already forced these doors open, and recently, the dust on the floor had been disturbed by the feet of a panicking person, clearly. Perhaps the man could examine the room to see what made the one who opened the door so afraid, or perhaps he should go after him, and get out of the basement. Where would he go after this, however?



Naomi crawled forward, edging her way into the incredibly tight tunnel, and no sooner had she managed to get her feet past the door, than Jim slammed shut, plunging the woman in total darkness, as what little light wasn't already blocked by her body was shut away from her.

There was no chance of turning around in this intensely confined space, and, considering how difficult it was to even move forward, backing up was almost unimaginable. So, in total darkness, Naomi crawled forward through a tunnel so narrow that she had to scrunch her shoulders close to her chin, and she had to keep her head bowed slightly to avoid bumping it on the ceiling. It was a tight fit.

The going was slow as well, hours seemed to pass as the officer worker slowly nudged forward. Or maybe it was days. But that wasn't possible, She hadn't grown any hungrier. Yet the time still crawled on. It had to have been at least a few hours. Maybe she should turn around? But doing so was impossible. Only one way to move now: forward.

Surely it had been a full day by now. If she were to be honest, it must have been several days. Too much time had passed. But why wasn't she cramped from this position? Why wasn't she hungry? Why wasn't she sleepy from being awake so long. Maybe she was dead? Talk about a way to spend the afterlife, crawling through a never-ending air duct.

The darkness and silence began to play tricks on her after the second day. Was that a shape moving up ahead? Was there a chittering just beyond the wall? Did she hear a strange howling or a motor running? Why did she keep picturing an needle and thread running around the edge of the tunnel, stitching up cracks. A needle & thread sewing up cracks in concrete? No no, cracks in reality, these were cracks in reality. Why did she think that? No, she was crawling through a crack in reality. The needle & thread was trying to sow it up while she was still inside.

Was the tunnel getting more cramped? How many days had it been now? Would anyone come looking for her? She had to try and crawl backwards. Where was she going? There was the needle & thread again. There was a lady sobbing in the distance. What, was that a flash of light? Oh god, something misshapen was crawling towards her from the other end of the tunnel. No, no, that was only a hallucination. She was going crazy, wasn't she?

Then when actual sound and light came, the sound was deafening and the light was blinding. She had been listening to imaginary sounds and seeing imaginary things for weeks now, and the sudden 'thunk' of something a few meters ahead was overwhelming, and the instant when a tiny keychain flashlight came on was dazzling, so she had to cover her eyes, and adjust to the light, before she looked at what lay ahead of her.

A tiny keychain flashlight lay on the tunnel ahead of her, pointed the same direction she was facing, and illuminating two things: A copy of Dr. Seuss's "Oh The Places You'll Go" propped up against the tunnel wall, and a mannequin head, laying on it's side.

Nothing happened for a moment, but then Naomi blinked, or looked away just to look back again, finding that the book was suddenly open, and the head was upright, facing the book, as though it were reading.

Nothing for another moment, and then the flashlight went out. Darkness and silence once more. Then the light returned, and the head was only an inch from Naomi's face, staring at her.

Perhaps Naomi would choose to attack, or scream, or frantically try backing up, but regardless, she found herself unable to move. It was as though time had stopped, and all that there was was this mannequin an inch in front of her.

She didn't feel any pain when it happened, but was instead only aware of her perspective changing, as her eyes were removed from her face, and carried away, she saw everything from the perspective of her eyes, saw how the tunnel had turned into a million baby arms that gripped at her body and tugged it apart, pulling her ear off her head or a toe off her foot as though they were simply building blocks. She watched from the hands of the two arms that held her eyes, as her entire body was dismantled. Strangely, there was no blood, as the inside-side of everything looked to be covered in skin, just like the outside-side.

Then, once each hand held a different part of her, she could see the objects being handed forward by the baby-arms further back in the tunnel. Paintings. All paintings of open sky, being fed forward, towards where her clothes lay empty.

Then, the paintings reached the proceedings, and were shuffled into the clothing, one placed where her head had been, another placed where her chest had been, and one where her legs had been. Once this was done, the arms began to reassemble the woman, putting her back together, but the hands were clearly not adept at human-making, as they tried to put parts where they didn't belong, like a toe on her hand. Eventually, however, they got it correct, and everything was back in place, except the eyes which were still held. In the empty eye sockets where her eyes would go, however, she could see the last hint of the paintings which had been places inside her: an expanse of open sky.

As she watched, however, the sun passed across the sky within those open eye sockets, and light blossomed out from them.

In that instant, the hands were gone, and she was back in the perspective of her body. The mannequin head was gone, as were the book and the flashlight. However, there was no more darkness either, as the tunnel was lit, as though by sunlight.

Feeling her face, she came to the realization: the arms had not put her eyes back in, and, passing her fingers over the front of her gaze, she realized that the sun within her eyes was casting that light, as he hand was illuminated, and she even felt a breeze pouring out from her eyes.

There were words on the side of the tunnel: "A gift". Up ahead, there was even an end to the tunnel: A wooden door.

Well, that was what would be next, wouldn't it? Or would she wonder about her new eyes?

[Hazuki]

"Well, where to go now?" Michi asks the child.

[Deathkeeper]

Actually, of all the things that happened today, I wasn't really surprised that he knew I was new. I mean, I must have looked totally lost, so it would have been really obvious.
...this wasn't one of those times where I'm not supposed to say my name, is it? Crap, I hoped not.

I...guess that worlds being built on concepts is...almost sensible? I mean, if you're telling me that a world must be built on the metaphysical, I guess that would be what you'd use. I didn't shudder at the mention of math like the rest did. I looked about instinctively at that, and then immediately regretted doing so, hoping I didn't stand out too much.

I smiled inside a little bit. Heck yes, it's like they dropped the answer right in my la- wait, who? Oh geez that's me.

"Uh, not sure if I'm creative enough to give an interesting one by name, so how about this one?" I stammered out, hoping that my cover isn't blown, and that whoever or whatever these people are didn't figure out how badly I didn't belong here. Maybe the differences between us weren't much, for all I knew, but there was some basis, some small amount of information at least, that they knew and I didn't, like a running joke that I just wasn't in on.

[Bladehunter217]

What an odd scene, is it displaying the real world? If that where the case, where am I? Am I trapped within my own mind and am somehow watching these events? Is there such a thing of a soul and if so, is this an out of body experience? This must have been what was happening to the others. I wonder what sort of demon could cause this. Tilburr brought a hand to his mouth, swallowing deeply, disliking the wave of nausea the drop had caused. "Lets have a look shall we." He lowered a hand to the ground, feeling if there was also dust in the footsteps. Regardless of how old they appear, he follows them, curious as to where they tread in his mind.

[Rith]

Viola seemed to notice when Toby failed to react to the word mathematics. After all, how could she not notice it, being right up on top of him like she was. The look she had given him at that moment was sly, but clearly not to help him. Suddenly the lost intern got the feeling that she wasn't sitting so close due to infatuation after all, but to keep a tab on his reactions. Something told him that things weren't going well for him, but he pushed on bravely with the fiction of just being a new student.

When he suggested that they depict the architecture of the world he was in, however, the room seemed to snigger, and he had a growing feeling of inadequacy. Between this and the strange acts of Viola beside him, he was developing a mental image of his being a tiny fly caught in a giant spiders web, and that his every word helped the spider to locate him, and the information that was being sent back were simply the fly feeling the spider move towards him. In his imagining, Viola wasn't a person, but just the strand of silk which had entangled him. An absurd mental image, he supposed, but one that could not be shaken.

Dr. Fehoose only smiled as he took a few steps towards where Toby sat, up to the edge of the stage, "Well, I suppose you're new to the concept of new worlds, aren't you? I suppose you're even new to this world. Well, that's okay, we can give you a few basics for this world. First, the main structure of the world is constructed from identity, memory, and opinion, while it, being a small world, has a shallow foundation, allowing that which it is built upon to reflect up upon it, so, naturally, literature and the concept of concept shape the fabric of this world as well. Identity of the individual makes it so the world changes for each who sees it, while memory gives a physical form to the place, and opinion can impose new, unique rules upon it. With literature, the written word holds great power, and with the concept of concept. Well, how do you feel such a thing would shape a world," as he spoke he had taken a step off of the stage and a few up the aisle towards where Toby sat.



Tilburr followed the steps in the dust out if the ancient basement, and up the stairs. As he went, he found more graffiti, as he slipped into the crumbling stairwell where he had found Collins & Reed going insane. This time he found strange messages, reading, "The lonely man killed his pet lizard!" or "Only the weakest heart will attack!" and for some reason, he knew, they were referring to facets of Tilburr's life. His pet lizard and his mother's heart attack. How this could be, couldn't be certain, but he felt it.

Up the stairs he went, until he reached the basement that had been full of concrete filing cabinets, and, noticing the footsteps had gone into that room for a moment, he saw that it wasn't full of the filing cabinets anymore, but closely-packed-together school desks, beneath flickering fluorescent lights, and, at one desk, sitting at it like a student, was a dummy used in science class, a plastic man with a missing chest and a full array of plastic organs, some of which had been out out in the table in front of it.

That was definitely something to look at, but it was like those footsteps only looked inside, before turning around and heading up again. Then again, he didn't know whose footprints they were. Was it really such a good idea to follow after them?

As he pondered this, a howling wind could be heard mounting in the distance.

(If trying to track Toby down all the way to the university, roll 4d6-4)

[Deathkeeper]

Crows and lions and bugs. I swear if I have to deal with one more animal-themed person today I'll scream. Better not die either, then there will be worm jokes.
I managed to suppress a shudder, but it was quite a violent urge that I had. Things were going sideways, that was for sure.

But urgh, I was finally getting some exposition! My eyes flickered about, my hand fumbling for the four-color-pen and scrawling about after clicking the red ink tab as my lips moved almost as fast as my mind. My left had went into my pocket, again thumbing the knife in my pocket.

"Memory is the physical aspect, and possibly why it started in the same building, as those were the freshest memories. Identity means that the individual influences the surroundings. Opinion makes exceptions to rules. Starts in a building, gets progressively more dystopian as time goes on, my mood gets steadily worse, place answers questions spoken out loud. World is shaped by literature and concepts, so it's built on ideals and writings entirely. Writing has power; it opened the Door. Concepts allow general concepts to take part in the other Aspects' shaping of the word. I needed information, information comes at schools. Schools are about safety and learning. That as a general concept- I said, voice raising slightly as I turn to look at the odd not-really-a-man before me, giving the pen a last flourish as I stuck it into the binder's wire coils, then that into my bag, probably revealing for only a moment or two the single large, neatly-written sentence scrawled across the page.
And then I made it out of the dangerous place, alive and well.
and the odd-looking little note beside it, dy/dx=1, y=x+C

"-would allow there to be something as innocuous as a pristine school to be in the middle of the rest of the place I can see." I said simply, not sure what else to do.
My body had more tension in it than I really remember building up. My mind had formulated a plan, expecting an ambush already from the seemingly innocent lecture hall. I'd have to jump over the back of my seat probably if I wanted to make a run for the door. If the sense of danger was right Viola would probably try to grab or trip me. And I certainly couldn't do much else besides run. I didn't think yelling out calculus would actually be much of a deterrent.

[Bladehunter217]

"Good afternoon Mr. Body. I would love to stay amd chat but I'm afraid that I have a prior engagement. If you would be patient; I'm certain I will return shortly." Tilburr tips an imaginary hat to the teaching instrument and turns, following the footsteps. "Whoever decided to take a jaunt through my memories will have hell to pay when I find them. Come out little worm, I know you're around."

[roll0]

[Rith]

The doctor didn't respond as Toby continued on with his interpretation of the ideas he had mentioned, just walked up the stairs towards the row where the human and Viola sat. Now, Viola still intimately close to Toby, so she definitely could see what was being written on the paper in that red ink, but if she cared, she didn't show it.

When Toby was finished speaking and writing, he would find that Fehoose had stopped his approach, only a few away from where Toby sat, and was staring at him, in silence. That colossal, grey-skinned head, easily as large as the chest it sat on, if not larger, with those myriad piercings, and that pinc nez, each lens the size of a dinner plate and perfectly reflective. Toby could see his own reflection in those glasses, and as he looked at himself, a memory struck him, of a piece of paper in an elevator between worlds, with the message written across it "Avoid Mirrors."

Somehow, Toby knew, something other than Dr. Fehoose's eyes lay on the other side of those lenses. Something staring out at him.

If Toby was going to bolt, now would be as good a time as any, so, over the chair he would go, and off towards the doors to this vast room, then through the hallway, but, after a moment, he'd realize. There was no sound behind him, and glancing back, not even a single member of the student base was chasing after him, and those double doors just sat there, innocuous and still.



A student looked at the giant-headed professor in confusion, "Master, are we not going to eat him?"

Dr. Fehoose looked back, surprised at the question, as mild contempt became etched on his features, "No... This one is handling the descent well. It might make the trip many times, which is a great opportunity. Besides, it thinks it's writing worked, and it will be hilarious if that delusion takes root. Keep track of it."

"Yes master," the class chanted... and then the room was empty.



Up to the surface the footprints went, to where the tower was still under construction, even in this dystopian wasteland. However, something about the light of this world made it look like it had been built up, and then demolished back down to it's current state, while, from other angles, the metal bars might have even been mistaken for giant ribs. The only thing that made Tilburr convinced that it was still under construction, in fact, was the construction equipment scattered around the ruins, even though half of it was wrecked, mechanical parts littering the area around the places they came to rest.

There was still that fog of concrete dust here as well, though there were no machines running to create it. There was a sharply howling wind as well, not to mention the distant peal of thunder, but the air did not stir, and something told the man that the wind was far away.

Stepping out of the cloud of dust, Tilburr was greeted with the sight of the city he knew so well, reduced to ruins. The sky above was yellow, and bore thick, black clouds which moved at a decent clip across the sky. It seemed as though all the concrete and the roads themselves were riddled with cracks, and every window was shattered, glass debris underfoot all along the sidewalk.

As he stared, however, he was suddenly surprised to hear a voice off to his right. Looking, he'd find Riggins there again, but this time wearing a plastic crown and holding a plastic scepter. He was facing away from Tilburr, yet his head was craned around to look at him, as he spoke, "Yes, they all went insane here, and I'm okay with you searching, but all of my men are okay, not a single one has even had a moment of instability. I'm telling you, this had to originate from their office."

It was like he was talking to someone else, which was strange, as he stared straight at Tilburr while he said it.

The footsteps went off into the city for miles, heading towards the west, but, after a while, Tilburr found that there wasn't enough dirt on the ground anymore to support even the faint footprints he had been following. Not only that, but he had found multiple sets of footprints as well, not all of them human.

By the time he lost the thread of the trail, however, he was a fair distance from the construction site.

(Roll failed)

[Deathkeeper]

I didn't stop until I was back onto that ruined street. And even then, I didn't stop for the length of a building or two. I took a few moments to catch my breath, laughing a bit at my "escape."

It was stupid of course. One does not simply walk out of a spider's web. Unless it seriously didn't have any power until it made its move, but that would just be stupid. The way it stared at me, walked way up enough to make itself pretty darn obviously threatening, and then just let me waltz out? Aw geez, it totally let me go. No way I lucked out that hard. No way. It would need all the luck in the universe for it to have seriously been that easy, and I didn't have an ounce of luck that day. Still, the writing thing was funny. I really doubt just any old text would do anything. If it really did help with the door, that was bizarro blood-magic writing on walls or something. No way at all that scribbling on anything can change reality. If I'm to believe any of this nonsense actually has rules, than there's no way it could be that stupid.

No way, right?

So, what next? Had to put some distance between myself and that deathtrap, that's for sure. Where to go, where to go? Well, I really was at a loss. I didn't know anything at all what to do. So I just did what felt natural. I went back to the old plan.
With a sigh, I started jogging back to where my home should have been. Hell, I should have brought water. I'd die if the place is as much of a hellhole as it seemed and nothing's offered to me lying around.

[Bladehunter217]

"Damn it." Tilburr kicked a dumpster nearby and brought a hand to his face. Don't let the anger show boy. Whoever managed to dig up those memories would likely also be able to escape me. I have to return to the basement and track down anything that'll reveal who is behind this. Riggins isn't smart enough to be in charge. Henshaw, I bet Henshaw has something to do with this. Tilburr growled and pivoted, taking long strides just short of sprinting. He sped up as he reached the next street, shouting and he tore down the streets. "I know you're out there and I wouldn't be surprised if you were following me."

[Rith]

So Toby, having managed to, according to his knowledge, escape from the university, turned back towards where his apartment lay, in this ruined city, and began making his way towards it once more.

The rest of the trip was, thankfully, uneventful. As he went, however, he kept getting these strange sensations. It was as though something were lurking just out of sight, in the shadows in an alleyway, or hiding just next to a window. Beneath the distant howling of wind and rumble of thunder, he thought he occasionally heard running feet, or a stifled laugh, but under closer inspection, nothing was there. He even once thought he saw a figure walking around the corner, but when he ran to catch up, there was no one there.

Finally, he reached the apartment building where he lived. Six stories high, he lived on the fourth, so he'd have to either take the elevator or the stairs. However, as he stood beneath those flickering fluorescent lights, he found that the stairwell was completely plunged into darkness, and, staring into it, he was reminded of the basement where the lights had been going out. Then the was the elevator, but, within it, were two mirrors, one to either side of the elevator, which resulted in an infinite tunnel of reflections in either direction.

Well, which way?



Back to the unfinished tower, then.

Sprinting and frustrated, Tilburr wove in and out of the streets, threading his way back to whence he came via following the trail. He called out, insisting that he knew someone was following him, but he didn't feel the sensation of eyes on his back like Toby did. Instead, he experienced something much more unusual.

As he rounded a corner, he found himself staring down a street he did not recognize. That was odd. This should be Travincal Lane. He must have turned to early. So, he turned back, but instantly realized that he didn't recognize that street either, which was impossible, it had been 12th St. No no, he must have just gotten misplaced, so, he would just retrace his steps until he found a place he recognized.

However, he couldn't remember taking a turn on any of the streets, and soon, he was simply staring about, trying to find anything that he recognized.

That's when it started. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, as he seemed to feel someone standing right behind him. But, turning around he would find nothing. Yet the sensation persisted, a constant feeling as though someone or something were standing just outside of his peripheral vision, and vanishing when he turned to look.

He encountered more and more graffiti, too, but less and less of it pertained to him. One in particular, jumped out at him, scrawled on the wall of what might have once been a bowling alley, which was now wrecked into ruins, were the words, "I am Christopher Harrow, and this is where I made my stand!"

(Roll another 4d6-4.)

[Deathkeeper]

I really didn't have any reason to believe that little note that warned me about the mirrors. Well, maybe the creepy look Fehoose gave me was some proof. And the elevator had come at the behest of the little door, who had been pretty nice, truth be told. But I decided I didn't like that elevator. If nothing else, the whole place looked wrecked, and the last thing I needed was a cable snapping and falling to my death. Besides, I didn't want to be in any sort of enclosed space while I was in this deathtrap of a "city."

So I opened the door to the stairwell, shining my tiny light into the blackness. I wanted to swear again, but I felt like I shouldn't even speak out loud in a place like this. I took a few steps in, trying to see if I could find even the barest hint of a light from the second-floor landing. Maybe if I really didn't feel comfortable in the darkness I could just go one floor at a time?

[Bladehunter217]

Where in the hell am I now? If I'm being trapped in my mind, how come this is somewhere I've never been? Is this Christopher Harrow's mind? Am I trapped in his memories? How would he know about me though? That is impossible; no one knows about me anymore. I'm all alone now aren't I? Just me and a stalker. Tilburr wrapped his arms around himself, the sensation that something is just beyond his sight giving him chills. He always preferred having the advantage. "Alright Harrow, what kind of stand did you make." Tilburr walked to the bowling alley or whatever it was for who knew what it was in this sick joke of a world. Turning his collar up against the howls, Tilburr let a final thought of Harrow pass his mind before forcing pleasant thoughts into his head. Maybe I can find a drink and some food.

[Rith]

The darkness pressed in all around Toby, an almost physical weight on his back. The young man tried to focus on the stairs in front of him, cast in a narrow beam of light from his tiny flashlight, but his thoughts kept betraying him, as he thought he heard a faint shuffle of steps underneath the stairs he walked up, and then a shuddering breath from somewhere in the empty space between landings to his left.

No light on the second floor landing. Not only that, but the door was blocked from the other side by a large cabinet pushed up against the door. The only option was to keep moving, then. Might want to move a little quicker, then.

A whisper in the darkness came as he made his way up to the third floor landing, from below him, though he had heard no one enter the room. Four distinct words could be heard, "How do you feel?" and then, "Do you know where you are?"

Nothing on the third floor. The door here was open, but Toby's room was on the next floor up. Might as well go all the way, right?

Up that last flight of stairs the intern went. Nothing bad had happened to him in the darkness yet. Just sounds and voices scaring him halfway to death. Just a few more steps now, and he'd be out of the shadows. Yet even as he came up onto the fourth floor landing, another whisper came, this one still below him, but much closer, "Don't leave..."

Whirling the light around to the steps behind him, a face came into view only a few steps behind Toby. A pale, tortured face plastered onto a bald head. The body was on all fours, but was not crawling. No, both arms and both legs were rigid, and the figure, clothed in something like a nightgown, was balanced on it's tip-toes and finger tips.

"Don't leave," it's twisted mouth repeated, and a stiff arm jerked forward, as it began it's unnaturally fast pursuit of Toby.

The door to the fourth floor is open. Whatever you do, do something.



Whoever Christopher Harrow was, he hadn't left behind a body. There was a sleeping bag, a few cans of cold beans, mostly still unopened, a machete, a 9mm pistol with five bullets, and a picture of a man and a woman tacked to the wall above the sleeping bag. This was in a corner of the bowling alley which still stood, in an alcove which was lined with shelves for bowling balls. The bowling balls had been all removed. You'd passed the places where Christopher had transferred them, turning them into traps along the way into the building. Thankfully, they had been triggered long ago, and you had not fallen victim to them.

There was a healthy layer of dust even on the objects Christopher had gathered together, so, surely, if he was still around, he hadn't been here in a long while, and if this was in fact the place where he made his stand, he hadn't left a body.

Maybe he had decided to leave, if so, then why had he left behind the gun and his cans of beans? Why would he bring a picture, presumably of some people important to him, just to leave it? No, none of it made any sense.

As Tilburr looked about this particular bowling alley, however, he felt a strange familiarity occur to him. It took him a moment of thought, but then he realized. He'd been here before, but it wasn't a bowling alley in Achtenville, the city he lived and worked in. No, this was a bowling alley in Umber, twenty-odd miles north of Achtenville. How had he traveled so far?

That sensation persisted. Something just outside his peripheral vision, seeming to offer up some eldritch answer to his unspoken question: How?

[Deathkeeper]

Well, isn't that just dandy? This is exactly what I get for saying that the city looked like something out of Fallout. You make Fallout jokes, you wind up with Trogs. Because the damn thing was basically a Trog. Except you know, fifty thousand times more horrifying because it's actually in front of you. So I really didn't have much to respond with. My voice might have been mostly stupefied, but my legs weren't. For now I had decided that the best course of action was to use my favorite bird-man as a role model, and run as fast as I possibly could to that door. Truly, he was a great master at the sacred art of running the hell away. An enviable bird if there ever was one.

"Like hell I'm not!"
I made a mad dash for the door, grabbing the handle as I passed the open door, and yanked as hard as I could. If I was lucky, I'd be able to wrench the thing closed, and hold it against that monster. Of course, if there was another in the hall, I was dead, but let's deal with things one at a time, shall we?

[Bladehunter217]

Tilburr knelt and picked up the handgun disdaindfully. Disgusting little things, could still prove useful, although apparently not to christopher. Best to not rely on it. More importantly, how in the hell did I manage to end up here? Something is most certainly wrong. He pocketed it before pocketing few cans of beans. Turning over the picture a few times, Tilburr sighed and folded it carefully so it would fit in his wallet. "Harrow, you will be brought peace." He bowed his head and whispered a soft prayer, keeping his eyes open just enough to look to either side before standing. At full height, he sighs and picks up the machete, frowning at the implications of two weapons and a handful of traps. "I don't suppose you will need this anymore." He turns and leaves, looking for a different direction to go than he entered. Here little creepy stalker, I got a can of beans for ya. This is the goddamn twilight zone, everything points to something weird going on but you never find out what exactly so you get pissed at the tv and shut it off before the character wakes up to find out it wasn't a dream but not know what the hell happened. I wish I could shut this crap off, I'm more than mildly annoyed with my stalker.

[Rith]

"NO!" the horrible creature screeched, high and loud, so much so that Toby's ears rang afterward, and he almost missed it's babbling, as it came up on him, "The darkness is your home now! You must come back! Don't leave! NO!"

All these words poured out in only a few seconds, not even the time it took the creature, in that disturbing, jerking, finger-tip crawl, to cross the distance between them.

The words blurred together, they were spoken so fast, and they almost sounded slurred. Toby would be able to catch it, but the spider-person was actually biting it's tongue and cheeks in an attempt to speak too fast, so that it drew blood, which filled it's mouth, and poured out from the corners of that mouth.

But Toby would be too focused on trying to get away from it to notice that it was chewing on it's own mouth, and he would almost get away too, but just as he was slamming the door shut, an arm and a leg snaked their way into the crack between the door and the wall. The arm went up and snatched at Toby's wrist, while the leg simply sat there, preventing the door from being shut all the way. The oddest thing, perhaps, that the leg was protruding from the top of the door while the arm was coming up from near the floor.

Meanwhile, that same ear-ringing screech filled his mind, now laced with a wet, slurred undertone as blood slipped from between those lips, "NO! NO! NO!"



On the back of the photograph was a date and two names: 3/13/83 Chris & Lauren Harrow. So, it was around 31 years old. This location couldn't have been abandoned except maybe five years ago, if Tilburr was any judge, and the picture showed a man and woman in their twenties, which meant that Harrow had been in his fifties when he was here. Was that significant?

Tilburr pocketed most of the useful items present, and then looked for another door, finding one labeled 'employees only', which led into the back of the bowling alley, where all the machines sat, cold and quiet. There was another door back there, which led into a crumbling, back parking lot, where a rusting hulk of a car sat, an old bicycle leaned up against it.

Examining the bike, it seemed in good working order, if a little rusty. Well, this place had given him some useful items, even a mode of transportation, and as he perhaps mounted the bike and rode out of the alley, that strange sensation, of something outside his peripheral vision, faded away, seeming to decide that it wanted to leave him alone.

However, it was getting late in the afternoon, now, with maybe four hours of daylight left. Tilburr needed to decide a direction to go, and, if he was going to be out past dark, he might want to find some further supplies as well.



It was late in the afternoon at the hospital, with maybe four hours of daylight remaining. Warm light slanted in through the tall windows of the Ward, bathing the entire room in a half-orange, half-golden glow. White hospital beds sat there, four of them, with a person strapped into each one, covered by teal blankets.

Oliver Collins, a large dark-skinned man stared at the ceiling, muttering things from time to time. No one paid attention to what he said, though. They hadn't needed to drug him, but they had strapped him down just the same, as a precaution.

Toby Reed struggled weakly against his bonds. He had thrashed about relentlessly before, but then they hit him with two doses of dopamine, and now he just stared with half-lidded eyes at the ceiling, speaking something from time to time. Most often, though, he said, "I have to... get to my apartment..."

The woman named Naomi was completely comatose, staring dully at the ceiling, not responding to any stimulus, though it seemed her body was functioning just fine. Yet, in contrast to this limp and relaxed posture, her heart rate was the highest of all four. For this reason, she had also been doped, and still her heart was going wild.

The man named Tilburr seemed the most normal out of the four, but he was still acting strangely, and didn't seem to understand where he was. Even as nurses and doctors stopped by to talk, he seemed convinced that he was in a hospital in a city north of Achtenville. This, with the linked circumstances of the other three, landed him strapped to a hospital bed.

Blood tests were being ran, and the police were searching the construction site where these four had all gone insane and interviewing their coworkers and the construction workers, but no one understood what was going on. Not yet.

[Deathkeeper]

I can't even describe to you how many swears ran through my mind. I wasn't even really thinking of much else. After all, when something like this is going on you're probably going to be focusing more on swearing and wishing you had a gun than thinking philosophy.
Trying to keep the door shut as much as possible, my range of movement was pretty limited. With my back and shoulder kept to that task, the only thing I really could do was keep pressing down on it, and begin stomping at the arm coming up from the bottom of the door.

([roll0])

[Devixer]

Cody looked at the wooden counter in front of him. There were four light scratches on it, probably each from a pen that had been pressed too hard to sign a receipt. On top of the counter was a cash register, slightly reddened by rust. Its display had a tiny crack in it - much too tiny for most people to notice. Most people, though, weren't Cody Snyder. Most people just didn't have the eye for details that he did. Either they hadn't taken the time to hone their senses, or they just didn't have the apti-

"Excuse me, sir? Your total's 2.37."

He looked back up at the server he was ordering from. A few strands of grey dotted her otherwise brown hair - a sign of early stress, probably from working in a coffee house. He placed three dollars on the counter and waited for his change. One of the quarters he got was from 1954 - a rare find these days. He pocketed the coins and noticed the brief look of disappointment from the server. Well, of course he wasn't going to give a tip, she hadn't done anything special. He took a newspaper from the nearby rack and browsed for articles. There wasn't anything there that caught his attention, but he was hardly surprised at this. All the noteworthy events that happened wouldn't be reported on, not for a while. But where would interesting things for a private detective as skilled as him be happening? It wasn't long before he thought of visiting a local hospital. He left the coffee house and called for a taxi.

It was a half hour or so before Cody arrived at the hospital. He wondered exactly how he would get into the wards as he entered the lobby. Maybe he'd make up a story about a sick relative? Yeah, that sounded like something most people would sympathize with.

[Bladehunter217]

Not a chance I'll make it back home tonight, other option it is. Not worth you're time? Somehow I don't mind. Tilburr takes the bicycle and starts pedaling north, looking for a grocery or camping store. I can't remember the last time I rode a bicycle.

[Rith]

Pain shot up Toby's arm as that vice-like grip tightened even further on his wrist, threatening to break bone beneath it. However, with adrenaline-induced ferocity, Toby lifted his foot up and brought it crashing down on that pale arm, driving that elbow to the ground with a crack as the creature beyond the door relinquished it's grip, and withdrew it's arm back.

All the while, that insane Banshee's wail came through the door, "NO NO NO! You must stay in the dark! Breaking and contorting! The darkness is your home now! Your home! Your home! NO!"

In fact, the hideous voice didn't even falter when Toby's leg came down on it. Not even a grunt of pain, it just withdrew it.

But, now, Toby couldn't get the door closed with that leg wedged in it. As he struggled with pulling it closed, the face appeared in the crack, only an eye, wide with abject terror, and, above it (the head was apparently upside down) a blood-filled mouth framed by shredded lips, screaming incessantly, flecks of blood splattering across Toby's legs.

Around Toby lay planks of wood which had apparently fallen from the ceiling above his head, a walker which was clearly the one Ms. Tamer used, but was laying just outside her open apartment door, instead of inside, with her. There was also a few tiny, shattered pieces of glass from a broken overhead light, a fire extinguisher about ten feet away, laying on the ground, and what looked to be a pile of trash next to his feet, containing mainly fast food wrappers and the plastic casings that you'd find a kitchen knife or a flash drive sold in.



Up north, in Umber, Tilburr pedaled along further north, looking for something of use. He passed by one supermarket as he went, but, upon closer inspection, found that it had been completely ransacked, and only contained empty cans and, for some odd reason, rows and rows of blue paint.

Moving further on, however, two things of note happened in Tilburr's area of notice.

First, he saw a distant building which defied the rest of the world around it. Where everything else was grey and crumbling or dirty yellow and crumbling, this building was dark, like obsidian, and gleaming perfect. He could only catch glimpses of it, between other buildings, as it was still far away, but he could tell that it was shaped like an old colonial building, like a town hall or a courthouse, but appeared to be made of black glass.

Second, he heard a voice, female and faint, like a conversation heard in a room three doors down which you can only make out because the rest of the world is so deadly quiet. Which was strange because that wind was still howling away overhead, loud as ever.

The building was to the north, but the voice seemed to be coming from down an alleyway to the west. Which one would it be, then?



The nurse at the front desk smiled tiredly as Coby walked into the hospital. She might have been a fairly attractive woman, but was clearly most of the way through a particularly rough shift, with black hair poking out haphazardly from what must have once been a superbly maintained bun.

"Yes sweety? How may I help you?" A twang of southern drawl touched her voice, along with a slowness that belied that she was relaxing. That made some sense. Maybe manning the front desk was considered an easy job, and due to her hectic day she had been told to come here, so she could sit down. Maybe she had asked for the switch.

Well, this was good. She was tired and relaxing. It meant that Coby could likely get in with a fairly simple story, and start strolling these hallways looking for the latest tiny drama.

[Deathkeeper]

Were I not in a scenario that at least seemed like it could prove fatal, I'd probably have made a joke here about those plastic cases being the deadliest thing in the room right now.

"If five minutes in a dark room means that, the Darkness has a terrible real estate scheme!"

If I hadn't been fighting for my life, I'd have also thought spontaneously singing "Movin' Out" would have worked.
This wasn't working. I didn't have many options, but I had to do something before this thing did. For just a moment I relinquished my grip on the door with one hand so I could reach down with it and snag one of the boards, one short enough that I could swing it with one hand. That required some hanging to actually reach, so hopefully the extra body weight would make up for the lack of both hands pulling. The maneuver's movement probably upset some of the trash, but I wasn't really worrying about getting grease on my shoes right now.

Hefting the splintering wood, I first moved to jab at the horrible face with its broken end, before starting to whack at the intruding leg with the blunt instrument.
[roll0]

[Devixer]

Cody isn't very good at faking tears, so he doesn't try that. He can, however, fake stress pretty easily. His face looks just downtrodden enough for the job, and he wrings his hands together. "Ah, yes, my mother was admitted here yesterday, she had a stroke. I can't remember her room number right now, but I'm sure I can find the way myself," he says. It wasn't the best story he'd ever come up with, but this woman was obviously tired. Probably thinking more about her home than her job, like any other woman in a hospital. He shouldn't have a hard time bluffing his way through.

[Bladehunter217]

Voice, building, ransacked supermarket and Chris harrow. One of these things isn't like the other, one of these things doesn't belong. I'm voting the strange building. Tilburr turns west and heads to the alley. He hops off the bike and walks next to it, machete in his left hand. Something isn't right, I doubt this will be necessary but at the very least, it may help me be left alone.

[Rith]

Even as Toby jabbed at the face with the splintered bit of wood, it flashed back behind the barrier of the door, reappearing just as it slipped into the gap between door and frame, teeth snapping shut onto wood and holding an intense grip. On one side, now the screams had stopped. On the other, this was not a good situation, as the creature torqued the plank of wood and jabbed it backwards, straight into Toby's chin, making him see stars and need to try and retain his balance or fall back and lose his grip on the door. (Roll 4d6-4 -- On a 7 or less, you retain your grip and can make another attempt. On an 8 or higher, make new plans. Sorry. The horror rolled really well.)



Tilburr carefully made his way forward, machete gleaming dull in the fading light. Down the alleyway he walked the bike, that female voice growing louder all the while. At the other end of the alley, there was another street, a sheet of gravel shot through with weeds. There were no storefronts here, just the butt-side of buildings, each with their own rusted dumpster. Yet, that voice was coming from down this empty street.

Following it just a little further, something would come into sight around the corner: a low-slung building with a single window and a door standing open. On it hung a sign which read "this door closes at six o'clock, with a plastic clock sitting beneath these words, which despite being plastic, was ticking down, and was currently at 5:25. Thirty five minutes until that door closed? That was interesting.

The female voice wasn't speaking now. Instead it was a man's voice, apparently they were having an in-depth conversation. Whoever they were, they were inside this tiny building which faced in on a back-alleyway.



The nurse at the front desk smiled in a way that said 'yes of course', as she looked down at her desk and opened a drawer. A moment later, with a wink, she handed over a visitors pass to Cody and said, "Here you go, sweety, just give me your name so I can put you on the roster and I'll get out of your way. Are you certain you don't want someone to help you find your way?"

After the name is given and Cody extracts himself from the front desk, he'd managed to find his way through the halls of the hospital, looking for the latest drama to focus upon, and eventually coming across a room with four loonies in it.

[Deathkeeper]

Ow.

Okay, I really hadn't expected this thing to have a sense of self-preservation. I had absolutely no idea what it was or what it was thinking, but the blood thing seemed to indicate that preventing harm to itself wasn't a priority, and apparently it still was. Crap.
Yep. I got smacked in the face. Smacked in the face by something too stupid to understand how to talk. Yep.
I fell backwards, scattering some of the trash that had been lying around my feet. The fire extinguisher, though metal, would be too bulky to swing if it had anything in it, and too hollow to use if it didn't. I grabbed the largest of the planks, hefting it in one hand. I did take the fire extinguisher in the other though, my hand on its trigger. I took a step forward, but I knew the thing would have the door open by the time I got there.
I was scared enough of having to fight that thing.
I was more scared of the prospect of seeing it in the light.

I pressed the trigger of the fire extinguisher. If I was lucky I could use the spray to blind the thing.

[Bladehunter217]

Setting the bicycle diwn silently, Tilburr his the machete partly in his coat. What kind of a door is on a timer? And why could I hear the voices so far way, something isn't right. I need to bd careful in there. checking hos watch, Tilburr made a mental note to check it as often as possible, who knows what was in there. Government experiments or anything else someone would kill to keep secret? He slid inside as quite as possible, returning the door to where it was before.

[Devixer]

"It's Cody. Cody Snyder." Normally, he'd lie about his name when going out to hunt for a case. But Cody doesn't really expect to find much here at the hospital. He'd just peruse the wards and be on his way. "Thank you." He takes the visitor's pass and heads further into the hospital.

He's about to give up and head home for the day when he comes across a room with four patients, strapped to beds, and with apparently no doctors watching over them. Well this was interesting. He glanced around him to see if there was anyone watching before entering this room. He glanced at each of the four people, making notes of their states. He'd probably get nothing interesting out of the woman or the dark man, but one of the other two could have something good for him. He approaches the man named Tilburr (though he doesn't know that name yet,) and just looks at him, at first. Once he noted his presence, then he could start talking.

[Rith]

A slight headache came over Cody as he looked over the patients. Most people would probably pass it off as just some fluke resulting from the fact that they had a head and it was capable of aching, but Snyder was a more astute fellow than that. There was no real reason for him to have developed a headache, and the fact that the moment it began coincided with the moment he entered this room, told him that something was off.

Well, that was a piece of information worthy of remembering. In the meantime, he examined the patients, and decided to try and speak to the one whose chart named him "Tilburr". As he made eye contact with him, however, the man in the hospital bed uttered a strange sentence, "Why is a bar closing at only six o'clock in the afternoon?"

Well, perhaps this was some riddle brought on by schizophrenia, a reinterpretation of what Tilburr was seeing. If that was the case, this would require some debate as to what it actually meant. However, before Snyder could actually debate it, Oliver Collins, on the next bed over, spoke up.

"I like to go to The Epicurean for dinner on occasion."

Now, this was an innocent statement, but one made without any real provocation. However, what piqued Cody's interest, was that he had ate at the Epicurean last night, and, in fact, still had the receipt in his wallet. This was a highly unlikely coincidence. But this was nothing compared to the next statement.

"I have never tried their gelato, but their Chicken Parmesan is one of my favorites."

Snyder had ordered Chicken Parmesan with a dessert of gelato last night.



What did it look like in the light?

The door swung open, and the thing, standing upside-down on it's fingertips fell forward, onto it's feet, arching it's back gracefully as those feet came to touch the ground, like a gymnast, just for it to straight up into a normal stance, wooden board falling from it's mouth with a clatter.

It was a woman.

Save for the damage around it's mouth, she was pristine, as though she were a wax replica of some movie star, or a department store mannequin. She wore a dainty, white nightgown, which matched her pearly white skin quite well, and her black hair was long and straight, like a Native American or an Oriental girl, and not even a bit disheveled from her recent trashing and struggles.

Only two things were out of place. First, as before, she stood on her tiptoes, completely ignoring the ball or soul of her feet. Second, now that she was in the light, he could see her mouth more clearly, and, since her cheeks had been sliced and cleaved by her screams so thoroughly, he could see inside, and look at the things moving about in there.

Maggots or centipedes, he wasn't sure what, crawling over one another in a mad flurry of bloody motion. Not only this, but each thing inside that mouth, possessed a human mouth all their own, and were whispering and murmuring to one another.

So, fwoosh went the fire extinguisher, and the maggot-mouth lady screamed, and every insect in her face screamed as well, as she staggered back, suddenly encased in white foam. Disoriented, she spun around, halfway into the stairwell from whence she came, and struggling to get her bearings.



As Tilburr slid inside the structure, he immediately became aware of that this was a bar, and, right now, there were three people inside. A man and woman at the bar, and a strange thing behind the bar. The thing was humanoid, and was wearing a suit, but had a giant apple in place of a head, with a worm sticking out of it, looking around.

As soon as he set foot inside the bar, however, all three of them paused in what they were doing, and stared at Tilburr, looks of amazement on their faces. The man was a short and balding, with a full, black beard which seemed to make up for the lack of hair on his head. He wore a cameo jacket, black shirt with the Pink Floyd prism from Dark Side of the Moon album on it, and old blue jeans. The woman was blonde and slightly horse-faced, with bright red lipstick and an outfit that would have been more appropriate on a mall mannequin than in a small bar like this, complete with sequined handbag.

The woman was the first to act, stepping away from the bar and putting a hand to either side of Tilburr's face, "Oh my god, are you real?" Her voice was squeaky, with some kind of Brooklyn overtone, which was reminiscent of Harley Quinn, "Where did you come from? How did you get here? Oh my god, it's not spreading, is it?"

[Deathkeeper]

Holy crap.
Holy crap.
Whatintheninehellsandeveryothertermforunholy****Ic anthinkofisthatnoseriouslythatissomemessedupsh-
"DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!" I screamed in horror and panic, hefting the heavy board with both hands and bringing it smashing down in an overhand blow as hard as I could down onto the horror's skull. I followed it up quickly with as strong a kick as I could muster, hoping to knock the wretched thing back into the stairwell so I could slam the door in its face.

Because I had just about HAD IT with these [expletive]in' animal parallels in this [expletive]in' doomsday world!

[Bladehunter217]

What the hell? Okay, she is a little out of place but then so is the ah, apple, so neither are out of place. Guess I won't need this. Why all the touching, I never understood why so many people do it as much as they do. "Do you know anyone by the name of Chris Harrow? Am I real? That is a little rude, don't you think harley? Before we get too far, do you know a man named christopher harrow?" Tilburr lools over her shoulder at the apple-man-thing. "I'm assuming this is your place?" The apple runs the bar, groupy needs a shave and ah, miss handbag needs to lean about personal space. Tilburr takes a mental note of the three people, memorizing their faces.

[Devixer]

Cody rubs his head a little bit. This was odd. He hadn't shown any of the warning signs that his head would flare up before. Definitely something for him to keep in his notes when he got home. He's about to respond to Tilburr when the other man talks about the restaurant he ate at. He knows that he ate there because he still has the receipt (no tip, of course.) The recounting of exactly what he ate is almost enough to startle him. But Cody Snyder was made of sterner stuff than that. So he'll try humoring this Oliver guy.

"I tried the gelato just recently," he says. "I don't know if I'd order it again, honestly."

[Rith]

The maggot-mouth lady caught the overhead blow in her bloody teeth even as she thrashed about in the foamy mist from the fire extinguisher. Then, even as her own mouth clenched on the wood, Toby could hear those maggots speaking in her voice, "Stop resisting! The darkness is your home!"

But, the horror wasn't prepared for the oncoming kick as well, and was sent reeling back, off balance as her jaw came loose of the board. Spinning and dancing on her tiptoes, she stumbled into the shadowy stairwell, and seemed confused for a moment, before she shrieked once more, "NO!" But she didn't have the moment to even move before Toby had shut the door in her face with a resounding slam.

After that, everything was silent. The door didn't rattle, her voice was nowhere to be heard. The only sounds were the ringing in Toby's ears from those Banshee shrieks, and the sound of his own breathing.



"Give him some room, Berea," the bearded man said, his voice low yet whiny at the same time, as he stepped up and put a hand on the handbag lady's arm, "I don't think we know anyone named Christopher Harrow. We're from out of town, and it might seem strange, but, considering what we've been through, 'are you real' is a valid question. I'm Quincy, this is Berea, and Apple-head over there is something they call a Deep One. It doesn't seem to talk much, but we were told by an ally that this is a safe place, so long as you don't drink anything Apple-head gives you."

"Who is Chris Harrow?" Berea asked, "Also, you still haven't told us where you came from."



Back up in the hospital room, Oliver blinked at what Cody said, "That's strange... I think it would be difficult to screw up ice cream."

Silence followed after that, for a few seconds, before the large, black man spoke again, "So, what are you doing here, Mr. detective?"

[Deathkeeper]

I took a long time to stand there and catch my breath. A few minutes, or maybe an hour. My mind was reeling at all of that. So much....ugh. And it just stopped? Was the thing subject to object permanence or something? No, shut up, don't complain. But....oh god, what was that thing? I had no idea how I was supposed to get back down once I did my business here. I just hope I could.

But I couldn't start having thoughts like that. I had to keep going. I took another, smaller board, and turned the door handle so it was facing down with its curled edge parallel to the ground, so it could hold up the board that I was using to bar the door.

That done, I gave a long sigh, and kicking aside the garbage strewn about the place, I trudged over to my door, fishing my key from a pocket and nervously fitting it into the keyhole.
In my apartment, the lightswitch would be right next to the door, and there was a window in more than one room. There should be enough light, right?

[Bladehunter217]

Having a friendly face is worth any risk, offer one hand in friendship and keep yhe other armed. "My name is Tilburr, I'm an analyst of sorts. Chris Harrow is the reason I have these." Tilburr sets the machete down and reaches for the photo. "On my way here, I passed a bowling alley where someone had used bowling balls into traps and I found this machete. What with the landscape as it is amd someone following me for half the day, it was a concern of mine that this may end up as a useful tool. I suppose I'm from out of town, turn a corner and end up in umber, not sure how I got away from achtenville on foot." Tilburr peers down his nose at the woman. "You use the strangest choice of words, an ally of yours? That suggests that you also have enemies, supporting my suspension of what happened to harrow. I cam only assume that you two have been through some things similar to myself and if so I doubt you have any particular interest in sharing. Lastly, you two are a strange pair, outfit and diction suggest that you come from very different cities and life style. How come the three of us end in the same place? You act as if you've known each other for a long time but how? How long have you been trapped in this twilight zone?"

[Devixer]

Cody scoffed. "Well, with staff like that..." What Cody didn't know (or chose to ignore) was that the Epicurean was packed that night, and he was particularly demanding. Of course he was, he was the customer. He had every right to be inpatient.

"I do what any good detective does," he says. "Looking for a good case."

[Rith]

At Tilburr's mention of someone following him for half the day, the two people before him looked a little concern. Berea, the woman, even cut across his words, "Do you mean someone or something?"

"Let him finish," Quincy reprimanded her.

So Tilburr went on and finished up his story, allowing Quincy, who seemed the dominant member of the pair, to speak up, "It sounds like this Chris Harrow was on a descent like you and me, but spent a lot longer down here than usual. He might have been in that bowling alley for a few months, even. I hope he wasn't alone. That can drive you mad. Me and Berea have been down here for about five days, now, and yes, we do have enemies. Or, rather, we're being hunted. The monsters down here all want to either kill or use humans like you and I. You see, what is happening to you happened to us. When we woke up, we thought we were going crazy, but none of the psychologists we went to were able to provide any help."

"I spent three months in an insane asylum, and they were no help at all," Berea piped in,

"Yeah, so we eventually looked for alternate means of treatment, and came across a group of people who knew about what we were going through. Meetings in an old auditorium once every week. That's where we met."

"Those guys were all quacks too. They said to avoid everyone when you were having a trip, to avoid doing anything to harm others. We found out some of the truth on our own, though."

"Yeah," Quincy smiled, "We went on a date and both had a trip at the same time. However, neither of us realized it until the waiter came up and was acting crazy. That's when we realized that we were both having the exact same trip. From there, yeah, we've been striving on our own to figure this out. However, the longer you have these trips, the more difficult it is to stay alive, because things get on your trail and you can't shake them without ending the trip. We had enough things chasing us that we decided to get in a vehicle and get to another part of the nation."

"Enough of that, though, we can tell you our life stories later," Berea said, "You said you made it out here without actually trying to travel? What happened? Also, did you mean a person was following you, or something? Did you see them? How did you know they were following you? We need more details."

"I'd recommend staying in here, by the way," Quincy warned, "The door closes in about ten minutes, and nothing can get in or out while it's closed. You'll be safe through the night. It's a bad idea to be outside after dark."



It was late in the afternoon by now, so the light from the windows was negligible, but, when he flipped the switch, lights did come on. They were flickering and dimmer than they should have been, but Toby was able to see his apartment with fair ease.

It was exactly as Toby had left it, down to the newspaper he had read before he went in to work still sitting where he had left it. However, like everything else in this world, the place was graffitied and crumbling. Wallpaper was peeling and the word "HELP" was written in red ink across the opposite wall. The newspaper was also covered in a thin layer of dust, as though he had left a month or two ago.

Moving from room to room and turning on each light, he found no unspeakable horrors, but did find a lot more graffiti directed at him. There were mirrors in his bedroom and the bathroom too, so that had to be considered.

So, he made it this far. What to do next?



Even though Oliver was strapped to the bed, and had made no motions, Cody got a sudden impression that he was being invited to come over and sit next to him.

Collins seemed rational enough, and remarkably well informed. However, his next words belied why he was in this room, "They're all crazy, you know. Everyone in the world. They've all gone mad, even you. You're crazy too, but you're my best hope. I knocked out three doctors looking for help, but that just made some nurses come in here and try to hurt me. I was bleeding pretty bad there for a bit. I still had enough strength to hit you on the head and grab your wallet, though, so I must be at least a little okay. Anyways, you don't belong here. Why did you come here, of all places?" Maybe you can help figure out why everyone's crazy. You should probably realize that you're crazy, first, though."

[Bladehunter217]

Odd, why does their story sound believable? "Damn it all, then Naomi is probably lost. Kids, I grew up in a country that had so much fighting, it might as well be at war. You learn to know when you're being followed. After walking for a while, I noticed something was wrong and there was something hiding out of sight. Couldn't see them no matter how hard I looked through. You say not to harm others? Does that include your monsters? Are you saying that it is always better to run?" Tilburr tales the gun from his pocket and removes each round slowly. "This probably isn't worth the risk of harming someone then. Is there anything else I should know in order to create a plan?"

[Deathkeeper]

I sighed. Some semblance of safety, at last. I flipped the dead-bolt on the front door, just to be safe. I also fetched a pair of thin sheets and held them up in front of me as I went into the bedroom and bathroom, using tacks from the drawer to fix them into place over the mirrors. They were too big to just put on the floor.

Once that was done, I checked all the closets, under the bed, everywhere, to make sure I was completely alone. I didn't expect anything, but the act of not finding anything would soothe my nerves.

So, what was on the list? 1) Get some gear from what I had. I had a bat, and I think one of those tiny crowbars from an old construction project. The pens and notebook had served me fine. 2) Check the place for food and water. I had plenty of non-perishables. If there was no extra degradation going on, I should have enough to last me a few days. 3) maybe inspect some of these messages, or at least take time to figure things out. What the heck is even making these things? Is it just stuff from my mind showing up because the world does that? I couldn't know.
One thing was for sure: I didn't want to be wandering those streets after dark. It'd probably be for the best if I hunkered down here for the night.

[Devixer]

"Hit me? When then that..." Cody trails off. It certainly did explain why Collins here knew so much about his recent life and where he ate. Besides, it wasn't that important anymore, now that he was talking about more typical crazy-person things. "Everyone in the world? That's an interesting viewpoint to have. What led you to that conclusion?" And what in the world made this guy think he could call Cody crazy?

[Rith]

"No no," Berea said, "We have no issue with harming others. It was those people in the help group that didn't want us to harm others," she reached into her handbag and pulled out a Dan Wesson M1911. A pretty monstrous handgun for a skinny girl like her to be carrying around, "That help group wanted us to lock ourselves up in our apartments whenever we had a trip. Utter quacks, honestly. We figured out that, pump enough lead into them, and a monster will go down just like anything else."

"I don't carry any weapons myself. I'm much better using my hands and feet," said short Quincy, "But if you didn't see what it was that was following you, it might have been some quirk of this level. Are you certain you didn't see anything? It's more likely it was a monster, not a person, because persons aren't exactly common down here."

They hadn't yet elaborated on if there was more information to be had.



Toby quickly managed to cover up the mirrors in his apartment using the sheets from his linen closet, and then set about examining the apartment for any additional signs of life. There were a few too many cockroaches, but, beyond that, there was nothing wrong.

Next he grabbed his crowbar and his bat, finding that, in addition to the bat, there was an older catcher's mitt, his old catcher's mitt, from when he actually used this bat to play. Strange, he had left that back home when he came out here to start his internship, hadn't he?

Next came the food. The cupboards were much more barren than what they had been before, but there was still three bags of jerky, five cans of beans that hadn't apparently been opened and eaten yet, a bundle of radishes, a large container of salt which had been overturned, spilling it's contents everywhere, two bottles of Mike's hard cider, and a bottle of pure maple syrup. The water wasn't running, but there was his canteen. He could also find a can opener and a kitchen knife, if he wanted them.

Next, he set about examining all the graffiti in the apartment. First, there was the HELP! In the entry way, but, looking farther, in the room where he had found his catcher's mitt and his bat was the score from the last baseball game he had played and his team logo. In the kitchen was a note, not graffiti, but a letter, splashed with blood, sitting on the counter, from his landlady, which stated that she feared for her life, naming Toby as the cause of her distress. The letter said that she was convinced that Toby was following her, and was planning to murder her, responding with contempt every time she welcomed him home.

Then, in his bedroom, he found a streak of graffiti that was written a little more violently than others, which read, "THE DARKNESS IS YOUR HOME NOW!"

As he examined that writing, something caught his attention from the corner of his eyes, and, turning, he found himself looking at the mirror he had covered with the cloth, and he saw that the cloth... was moving.



It also might explain why he might have had a sudden headache when he walked in. Something hitting him in the head... but how? How could he have hit him in the head without him actually hitting him in the head?

The large, dark-skinned man looked at Cody in confusion, "I simply looked at them. They're clearly crazy. But, I suppose it's not visible to you. You're crazy too, after all. I just hope you can see through your craziness and help me out."

Was something moving in the corner of Cody's eye?

[Deathkeeper]

I smiled a little bit. Unless the food was fake or poisoned, that was definitely something. Actually, jerky, radishes, and beans. To be honest, there are worse things I could have been forced to spend a night living off of. I moved the food to an old backpack in the closet, just in case, along with the can-opener, and the knife in its plastic sleeve.
I'll be honest, I blew off the note, shoving it aside. I didn't have time to worry about the ramblings of more phantoms. And I forced myself not to care about the message echoing that pale freak's screams.
As for the mitt? I laid it next to the pack, some comforting nostalgia in all this insanity. Who knows how it was here, but who knows why the place looks months old. This version of the city clearly doesn't follow any rules he could imagine.

And then, movement. Of course. Heaven forbid I got some goddamn peace and quiet for twenty minutes. I grabbed my tool of destruction and ran straight at it, slamming the thing with the bat. I wasn't taking any chances with these things, and no matter what I probably just got confirmation about the mirror thing.
Because that was definitely not a roach.

[Devixer]

Cody rubbed his head without really thinking about it. How had he gotten that, anyway? He didn't just "get" headaches. "How am I supposed to see through being crazy..." he trails off. Did he see something to his side? No, no way. He'd have seen more of it if it was actually there, like any good detective would. He doesn't know why he's doing it, but Cody looks off to the side, for just a moment, just to confirm that he isn't hallucinating. That's something a crazy person would do, and he obviously wasn't crazy.

[Bladehunter217]

OF course they don't tell me everything, how am I supposed to know how crazy they are? "To each their own, good to know that the hyperactive woman carrier a remarkably large firearm. I've always been good at talking my way out of battle, do your monsters ever speak?" Tilburr circles around and goes to the bartender. "I never saw anything following me, I just could sense someone around. Too bad I couldn't get a look at them, no matter how hard I looked, they were outside of sight. What did you call this thing again?"

[Rith]

"Apple head? That's what they call a Deep One. We don't really have much info about Deep Ones, except that monsters are scared of them and they're from farther down. So far, we know of four main things wandering about in this place. First are the Humans, or the insane copies of them. Then there are monsters hiding in the dark and stalking you for ages. They all have some weird quirks, like being unable to open doors or needing to count things or stuff like that. There are, third of all, organizations, like the Rabbits and the Scribbly People. Now, we can kill or escape a monster, but taking on an organization is like taking on the military. The fourth and last thing we know about are the Deep Ones. You don't come across them often, but monsters shy away from them, and organizations apparently keep track of them just so they can make sure to avoid them. We should probably be scared of apple head over there, but he only tries to hurt you by offering you drinks."

"How deep have you gone, Tilburr?" Berea asks after Quincy's spill.



Toby's aim was almost perfect, and with all the strength he had, he delivered the bat at what looked to be a hand pushing at the cloth.

Yet, instead of hitting flesh, the cloth just collapsed as though only air was on the other side, and the bat crashed into the mirror, sending a fissure across it's width and making the entire thing bend over and smash to the ground. Dagger-like shards of glass tangled with the cloth and ripped at it as it crumpled up on the ground.

So, Toby stood there, it the frame of the door, looking at the mess of sharp glass that now littered his bedroom floor, mostly face-down.

Yet as he looked there... maybe it was a trick of the light, but the splits in the glass actually seemed to form jagged letters on the floor:

"Ha ha ha ha.
Making sure?
That's okay.
No answers."



Cody looked off to the side, trying to catch that little flicker that had enticed his vision, but, then, when he looked back, the room wasn't the same.

Three of the four beds were empty, and Oliver Collins was sitting on the next bed over, completely unrestrained and holding what looked suspiciously like Cody's wallet in his lap. Along with several purses and other personal affects that he must have been accumulating.

Which was exceedingly odd because Cody still felt the weight of his wallet in his back pocket.

Looking into Cody's eyes, Oliver seemed to focus on him in surprise, before appearing to switch over to excitement, "Oh hey! Did it actually just happen to you?! It was just a hunch! Or... are you still seeing me as crazy?"

[Deathkeeper]

I practically growled I was so frustrated. None of this makes any senses. Mirrors in general reminded me of Fehoose, or was this the same entity that had left me messages on the sides of the buildings? Or were they both? Ugh, I just wanted to go home for real. What the hell was any of this? I'd started to relax at my reprieve, but now I was back to not being able to take much more.

"I don't want any answers you were offering anyway if you're too good to just use the door." I spat, unable to think of a better insult.
As quickly as I could I grabbed the blanket and threw it back over the floor. If I was careful enough I could use it and maybe a second sheet to gather up all the shards and wrap them in it like a bag, and then I could throw the whole thing out the window.

[Bladehunter217]

They're very selective about which questions they answer, time to try something else. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, every since getting out of the elevator, I've been walking up stairs, not down them. But more importantly, what idiot came up with the name 'The Scribbly People'? Also, what is in his drinks that you avoid?" Tilburr looks closely at the worm before holding out a hand. "Any drinks you would suggest friend?"

[Devixer]

Cody almost does a double take at seeing such an abrupt change in scenery. He looks at Oliver holding his wallet in another bed, and he reaches into his back pocket, just to make sure he still has it. That couldn't be his wallet, it made no sense.

He keeps looking at Oliver, before saying "How did you do that?" He still doesn't quite believe Oliver, but persuading him probably won't be hard anymore.