A Dance of Destiny IC

[HardboiledJJ]

Jonathan Morris

Tendrils of blackness crept into the peripherals of Jonathan's vision. He fumbled to find the Avenger's guns, but only succeeded in leaving bloody prints on the ground. Exhausted, he lay on his back. Was it strange, then, that when Death called the gunslinger, he smiled and let out a heartfelt laugh as he heard the heavy boots approaching?

The sun was merciless, trying to blind what parts of his vision weren't blacking out. As the bounty hunter approached he was little more than a silhouette.

"Who . . .are you. . .?"

Whether it was habit or instinct, Jonathan forced himself to remember his knives. He didn't go for them-not yet at least. This bastard was so damn good, and enjoying it too if that smile accounted for anything.

Fine, you got me. Come play with the mouse 'fore you finish it off. Lemme see if I can get my hands on one of your wonderful toys. . .

[The Necroswanso]

And here we go.
Richard quickly stepped behind the police officer, sliding one arm under the officer's arm he was using to grab his gun, attempting to place him in a half-nelson. The other arm, he grabbed at the officer's throat, trying to dig the sharp rings into his flesh, attempting to literally pull his throat out.
"Look, I don't do this, but you should have just listened."

[Voshkod]

Lt. General Mikhail Ratkunin

No guards, most likely. Stupid of him. Ratkunin tested his bonds, seeing if he had any freedom of movement, and then began to jump the chair forward toward the body. What was Stalin playing at? Is this what came out of the Gulag? Could this be what happened to her? He moved closer, closer to getting the gem.

[ForzaFiori]

Bólnautr Skoftason

Bólnautr draws his bow from his back, pulling an arrow from his hip and notching it, though not drawing it. As he realizes the man, He leans forward, over Snorri's shoulder, and points at the small figure. Snorri, you are our best archer. Do you see the man atop the beast? While I doubt even your arrows would harm the great Wyrm at this distance, The man you can kill. Any man riding with a Wyrm is an enemy of us, and any enemy should die. He leans back, waiting for the Wyrm to come, giving a prayer to the gods Odin, Thor, Tyr, and Ullr, the patrons of war and battle, that Snorri's arrows would fly true. He then leans back and draws his bow as the great beast comes towards them, drawing and shooting when it is close, aiming for the eyes and snout.

[Lonna]

Taira Itagaki

As Itagaki left the carriage, she was already calling for servants and a healer. Turning to the old warrior at the doorstep, she was about to ask when her husband was expected when she realized the truth. Surpirse at her young husband's condition, piled atop her worry for her father, broke though her self-control for an instant. For just a split second, everyone in the courtyard could see her shock, confusion, and worry written plainly on her face. Then her face was smooth again, and she bowed to the wounded warrior.

"Husband-sama," she began formally. "Welcome home. I appologize that I cannot welcome you properly, but as you see," She guestured toward the carriage, where servants were carefully unloading the still form of her wounded father. "Much has happened that was not expected. If you would accompany me, I shall explain." Looking down at her kimono she added absently to herself "I cannot fight the demon in this."

{{If her husband doesn't object, Itagaki will summarize what happened while she changes into her practice kimono (a much lighter and looser garment than her mourning clothes) and ask what happened to him.}}

[Niasen]

Jarvis McArthur

Jarvis looks down at them all, his mind racing. Damn, if this wasn't a set up of epic proportions. I'm going to have to beat it into that kid how to tell the difference between a real lead and bait, son of a...is that a heavy machine gun there that Jellies manning?!?!? This seems a little overkill for anything short of a large mob war...damn, am I sure I want to get into this? I couldn't get down there if I was a friggin ghost. Who IS that new guy and did he set this up? It can't all be for me can it?...screw it, its to late in this play of fools for worries.
Jarvis pulls out his pistol. This started with a bunch of random blind shooting while I was drunk and running into trouble Jarvis starts aiming the gun and taking a bead on Jelly Fitting that its going to end by a carefully planned shot while I'm stone cold sober and going to have to run out of trouble...Here's to my partner and to fate.

The gun goes off, once...twice...three times towards Jelly with dead on aiming, and he then gives a quick emptying of the chamber to the crowd of guys with guns, quickly running back down towards the side of the wall he came up on, not even stopping to climb down, jumping off the side and rolling when he lands, only hurting his ankle slightly...He has no idea what he's done, or whether he even hit Jelly, but he knows that whether this was setup for him or if he just ruined a mob war ambush, his only hope of any sort of survival relies in the chaos he just created to a hopefully now leaderless bunch of thugs...least, he hoped Jelly was the leader in this case.

[Hairb]

Mystery scratches were all well and good, but Salinger was in no mood for spelunking. He made a beeline for the streets. A flashback hit him, and he recalled that kid from Wisconsin- Johnson from Wisconsin, that was him- who took a piece of shrapnel just below the hip on Independance Day and didn't notice until he almost blacked out trying to sit down at the dressing station and went white as a sheet under all that mud...

Without breaking his stride, Salinger checked himself for any bullet wounds that may have been masked by adrenaline and fear.

[MrEdwardNigma]

Somewhere, on a murky river, a small gondola appeared from the mists. There were four people on the boat, though the word people might not be entirely appropriate here. One of them was standing and stearing the gondola with a large stick, the three others were sitting. None of them flinched as a tormented face bubbled up from the waters and screeched at them.

The three sitting figures were almost transparant. They seemed somewhat insecure and slightly confused.

"You know, I never believed in all this. I thought that when you died, that was just that"

"Yeah, me too... Well, not that I really ever gave it that much thought"

"Ha, infidels! We are being taken to paradise as is written in the Koran. As you are heathens though, I'm not sure what you are doing here"

The standing figure shook his head.
"YOU'RE ALL WRONG"

"We are? What is there then? Where are we going?"

"I WOULDN'T KNOW. I'M JUST THE FERRYMAN. BUT NO-ONE'S EVER TRIED TO COME BACK, SO I SUPPOSE IT CAN'T BE THAT BAD"

"Who's that then?"

"WHAT?"

"If no-one ever comes back, why is there a guy waiting on the other side"

They all looked to the shore. There was a huge man there, or at least, a huge suit of armour. Nothing of the actual man was visible, even his face was obscured by his helmet, much like how the gondoleer's head was obscured by his black cloak. The armoured man had a huge clock in his chest. It was ticking slowly.

"OH, HIM"

"HELLO THERE, GRIM"

The boat slid ashore and the gondoleer pulled the stick out of the water. There was a long blade attached to the end. It was a scythe.

"THIS IS YOUR STOP"

The three shadows got out hesitantly and slowly walked of into the fog. The two figures waited until they were completely gone. The armoured man took out a coin.

"A ONE-WAY TICKET ACROSS, PLEASE"

"VERY WELL, I NEED TO GO PICK UP SOME MORE CUSTOMERS ANYWAYS"

857: Bólnautr Skoftason
As the beast approaches and arrows slice through the air, Bólnautr and the others realise in horror than the man atop the dragon isn't a man at all. It's some sort of smaller dragon himself, still in the form of a man, but with scales all over. In fact, the arrows seem to have less effect on the rider than on the dragon. His skin deflects them, but they pierce that of the dragon, though the beast doesn't take notice.

On the first time passing by the boat it's breath set the mast on fire, pieces of burning sail raining down on the crew.

Snorri had figured out shooting at the man was no use, instead, he aimed for the beast. On the second time it passed, one of Snorri's arrows struck it's eye. The creature winced and derived from it's course, crashing into the burning mast. The wood rained down on the boat, a large part of the mast falling atop Gerhald. The young smith screamed in despair, but most of the other vikings were too busy saving their own hides, and looking where the beast had gone.

The dragon had plunged into the water after it's crash, and for a moment Bólnautr dared believe it was gone, but then it resurfaced in a geyser of hot water. For a moment the dragon hung right in front of the edge of the boat, and Bólnautr could stare into the cold, dark eyes of the dragonrider. The worst thing about it was the smile though, stretching across half his face and bearing huge sharp teeth. The dragon opened his huge jaws and Bólnautr could hear the fire well up inside.

1279: Taira Itagaki
Itagaki's huspand was not in the mood for this. He simply greeted his wife, but did not want to hear her story. He said he'd hoped for a quiet return home, perhaps a bit of festivity but not too much. He needed to think. He retreated to his room.

Meanwhile Itagaki's father had been dragged to one of the guest's rooms where he would be taken care of. Itagaki took the time she now had to change her clothes. Today had not been a good day.

As Itagaki finished putting on her practice kimono, Rukia knocked and entered.
"Your father, he is asking for you"

Itagaki followed Rukia to the guest room. Her father was sweating heavily, and several servants were tending to him with wet cloths. He seemed to be annoyed by them, but enduring it.
"Daughter, I am dying. The- the demon needs to be killed. Tell your huspand to go after him. Tell- tell him to avenge me. He will know what to do"

1890: Jonathan Morris
The bountyhunter took one, maybe two steps ahead. Jonathan heard him reload. He was taking his time, but judging from what Jonathan had seen the man could have killed him by now. He took another step.

A gunshot. Not from the shotgun, not from the bountyhunter, but from the window. Not at Jonathan either, but in front of the bountyhunter's feet.
"Ooooh, I think that's enough, bwana. See, me and the boys up here reconsidered. We don't want him dead just yet. I bet our bosses would love to toy with him some more"

The bountyhunter looked up at the window. He sighed slightly.
"Your bosses aren't running this gig. He needs to die. Now"

"We may not be running this, Bwana, but we sure as hell are financing it"

"Finance? Don't make me laugh. None of these boys needed extra motivation to go after the great Jonathan smeggin' Morris. Finance! Ha! That's just so your bosses would feel somewhat in control"

"Oh, and we do, bwana, we do. Right now, with my hand on this gun here, I feel very much in control"

The bountyhunter shook his head and walked towards the building. A couple of shots ricoched off his coat. Jonathan wondered if this was the right time to jump the bountyhunter with his knives. After all, he wasn't watching him anymore.

1928: Robert Lester Salinger (AKA Doc)
Robert climbed up the ladder as fast as he could. As he ran through the alley he'd ended up in, he patted down his chest and legs, checking for wounds. Before he knew it, he'd run back onto the streets. He was across the street from the church now, and between him and the building was a car, the engine running. It hadn't been there before, and it's doors on the side of the church were open.

Only now did Robert notice the wheelman, who was just lighting a cigar. The cigar dropped from the man's mouth as he spotted Robert. He ducked behind the door and went for something in the glove compartiment.

1944: Lt. General Mikhail Ratkunin
Mikhail inched closer to the corpse, it's smell overwhelming him. He went for the leather bracelet with the gem on it with his teeth. He wouldn't have been able to chew through it that easily if the Germans hadn't eased it up by making bulletholes all over it. The amber gem fell into Mikhail's lap and he suddenly felt a strange sense of completion.

His mind seemed to cloud up for the briefest of moments and he found himself in an imaginary swamp, on a hill. He felt a strong desire to leave, leave that bunker and leave that swamp, and instantly both faded. He felt like thousands of tons of water were crashing onto him, soaking his every pour. Immediately following that, it felt like that same water was pulled out again, extracted. A sharp pain, an annoying beeeeeeeeeep somewhere in the distance, and then he suddenly found himself on a graveyard.

Well, it was nothing like any graveyard he'd ever seen. It was a grassy plain, with only a couple of tombs and trees lining the place. There were corpses, spread on the ground, turned into swiss cheese, most likely with a machine gun. They were all Japs. For a second Mikhail wondered if these were troops that had been sent to Gruber, but then he realised something much stranger must have been going on. A man in a medieval samurai outfit had appeared at the gate of the graveyard (not that there were any walls, just a simple gate). The man looked pretty old, but as he drew his blade Mikhail could see he was used to handling it. The old jap advanced on Mikhail carefully. The worst part was Mikhail was still tied to that chair.

Spoiler

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You should probably add the gembracelet to your inventory

1948: Jarvis McArthur
The gun went off. Jelly took a shot to the shoulder. The mobster had moved! No worries, two more shots, well aimed. He was ducking. One more slug hit Jelly's arm, just as he pulled the trigger on the machine gun. The thing blasted some of his own men and then blew a whole bunch of crates to smithereens, causing an avalanche of the stuff. Jarvis rolled off the roof just as a row of bullet sized holes appeared where he'd been sitting and the glass of the skylight shattered. He landed luckily. Normally you don't get off that easy if you jump off a warehouse.

Just as soon as he hit the ground the warehouse doors flew open. Three guys with tommy guns, and in the middle the stranger, unarmed. He tossed off his hat, showing his hideous head. It had darkgreenish scales all over and a sharptoothed smile from one ear to the other. Jarvis could see a pair of huge claws portruding from his sleeves as well.

[ForzaFiori]

Bólnautr Skoftason

Send your arrows down the beast's throat! roars Bólnautr as he releases an arrow at his named target, drawing and firing as many arrows as possible in the short time he has. I hope this keeps that fire in Bólnautr thinks, as he tenses to launch over the side if the flames come

[Niasen]

Jarvis McArthur
Jarvis keeps running, but changes his direction from going to the car to where he left the deadman with the tommygun, cause there's no way in HELL he could take them all down with a pistol. He barely even processes the monstrous thing chasing him, almost writing it off as a possible side effect of being an ex-alchoholic, but he didn't think his imagination could pull up something that ugly. Jarvis slides down grabbing the machine gun, and pulls the man up to use as a partial human shield while he makes sure the weapons cocked and ready. Assured that it is, he begins firing off the machine gun at the crowd of his pursuers, his training making him sweep towards those with guns and paying only lip service to the clawed monstrosity.

His mind starts racing about what he has to do, but subconsciously keeps skirting the fact that he's being chased by something that doesn't appear to be human.
Son of a bitch I can't believe I MISSED killing Jelly and now I'm ****ED! What gun do I have? Feels like a 1921 drum model, should have at LEAST 45 rounds in it after what happened to the poor bastard here, if not a 100 round drum model. Bastard had good taste at least. Ok, get them into cover or mow them down, make a break for some real cover yourself as quick as you can and RUN you SOB to your car if you can...if you can't cause its to dangerous or it won't start, pray someone starts hearing the shooting and some sort of cavalry comes cause otherwise your going to have Jelly laughing over your dead corpse.

Jarvis gives another quick volley towards everyone and starts making a break for the nearest dependable cover (or car if there isn't any).

[Hairb]

Oh for Christ's sake. Another of the Mayor's stooges. Robert Salinger drew his pistol and made a dash behind the car, trying to get out of the man's line of sight before he raised his head.

[HardboiledJJ]

Silently, dryly, the gunslinger chuckled to himself.

Heh. God bless you, you big dumb bastard. All your hate. . .somehow sparing me. . .that's rich. . .

Jonathan was just fine with a little divide and conquer. He took the brief respite of their dialogue to scan around for these men's horses. He also did a quick check to see if the bounty hunter had any more gadgets on his person (maybe one to turn around on him.)

If Jonathan could have his druthers, the bastards would finish each other off. Things never worked out like that though. He knew if he didn't force himself to move he might lose consciousness. He'd let them start in on each other, and then make the best of jumping the bounty hunter. Tough as that body armor might be, it didn't cover his throat. And if a bowie knife could pierce a gator's hide, it should shred this miserable bastards face to ribbons.

[Voshkod]

Lt. General Mikhail Ratkunin

Ratkunin strained against the rope. Damn it, not this, he thought wildly. "Stay back, old man," he shouted in his broken Japanese. "My men will kill you!"

[Lonna]

Taira Itagaki

Itagaki knelt by her father to hear his labored words, allowing herself a sliver of the hope she had lost when he married her off. Her face remained smooth as he spoke, but her hands clenched into fists in her lap as she listened. It didn't matter. The servants, and indeed, her father himself, would assume her anguish stemmed from his declaration that he would soon die, taking her second parent from her in nearly as few days. She cemented the not completely inaccurate assumption by bowing her head obediently, then placing a rare, affectionate kiss on her father's forehead. "I can only hope that you are wrong, honored father. Nevertheless, I shall do as you ask."

Rising, she made her way through the house to her husband's room, fighting tears. Yes, it would have been acceptable for her husband to see them, but there were others around, and aside from Rukia she wanted no-one to see her weakness. Besides, despite their marriage her husband was little more than a stranger to her. Yet Father's dying request for vengeance was directed to him, who is not even a blood relative, rather than me, who has never wanted anything but to be acknowledged by Father as a warrior and an acceptible substitute for an heir.

Thrusting such bitter thoughts from her head, she knocked on the frame of the door, careful not to hit (and perhaps tear) one of the rice paper screen that made up many of the walls and slid away to provide entrance to the rooms. "Husband-sama," she called formally. "It is I, your wife Itagaki. May I come in?"

{{Assuming he says yes or doesn't answer, she'll enter. If he will listen, she relays her father's message and answers any questions he asks. Anything else I'll deal with as it comes.}}

[MrEdwardNigma]

857: Bólnautr Skoftason
A rain of arrows pierced the dragon's skin and some of them flew into his throat, making nasty wounds. The creature cried out in pain, but as it seemed to be losing it's balance in the air, the burst of fire he had been preparing sets the ship and Bólnautr aflame. Bólnautr drops his bow, which has been reduced to ashes, and dumps himself into the water. A loud splash tells him the dragon has done the same, even as the water douses the flames.

Bólnautr was dragged away from the flaming remains of his ship by the current, but could now see the dragon sinking beneath him. It's rider, however, had gone. Or, at least, so Bólnautr had hoped. Suddenly he felt a tug at his leg. He looked down and saw a clawed hand had gripped him by the ankle, and was now trying to pull him down.

Spoiler

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Please update your inventory for the loss of bow and several arrows

1279: Taira Itagaki
When Itagaki entered her huspand's room, he was trying to clean the clotted blood off his face. The servants were occupied with Itagaki's father, so he did it himself. Besides, he was ashamed enough as it was. Without saying a word he listened to her story, this time not dismissing her.

He sighed.
"Going after a demon? I come home from the war, defeated by the invader, and this is what you ask of me? I- I can barely walk"

He was silent for a while, and continued cleaning his face, but it only cause more blood to well up in the cuts on his face.

"Very well, I suppose it is the way of the warrior. We will go to Jushiro Mayuri's lands immediately, by carriage. The other warriors are already on their way there, so we shall make haste"

Ishida got up, but almost fell down again due to the pain in his leg. Itagaki rushed to his aid, supporting him. He looked at her, with a pained expression.

"You shall go with me. We'll be polite when visiting Jushiro Mayuri, as we are asking a favor. It would do well for me to have my wife with me"

Aided by Itagaki Ishida limped to the carriage, but as soon as they exited his room Ishida pushed Itagaki aside. He did not want to be seen supported by her. He would bear the pain like a man. In the carriage he relaxed again,and leaned into the wall, nodding off.

He woke up again when they arrived at Mayuri's house. There were other carriages there as well, belonging to the other warriors who had made their way there. Old men, most of them, but too stubborn to admit they could not beat this strange demon. They were having a meeting with Mayuri in one of the halls of his house. Mayuri's expression changed as he saw Ishida and Itagaki enter. It briefly went through rage, but then returned to a sort of distancing politeness.

"Ah, Itagaki-sama, what brings you and this stranger to my house?"

Ishida seemed hurt that Mayuri hadn't even recognised him due to his warwounds, but it was hard to tell because his face was a mess.

"I am no stranger, Mayuri-san, but Ishida. I have returned from the war just today. We are here on official business, much like the others present here, I imagine"

"Ishida-san! I should have known it was you. But you are late. I have already discussed the matter with these fine men, and was not about to repeat myself"

One of the older men got up and greeted Ishida.
"They have already caught the demon. Mayuri is claiming the rights of slaying him because he was caught on his lands, but some of us disagree and demand vengeance for our fallen familymembers"

"We are here to do the same. We are here in name of Shihouin Saburo-sama"

"Well, I am afraid I must send you home. The demon is mine"

1279: Lt. General Mikhail Ratkunin
The old man seemed surprised Mikhail could talk. He stopped advancing and looked at the tied down Russian in front of him as if he were some alien creature.

"Your friend has killed a lot of my people, demon, and even as I paid them my final respects, you turn up. I ran before, I must admit, but I will be glad if I can die in honour battling with you. It will be... redemption for my cowardice"

The old man considered his own words.

"I can not kill you while you are tied though. There would be no honour in that. Promise not to move, demon, and I will free you. I warn you, do not try to betray me, many men have found their death at the end of my blade"

The old man walked up to Mikhail and knelt behind him. Mikhail felt the cold steel of the man's sword as he cut through his ropes and freed him.

1890: Jonathan Morris
Unfortunately Jonathan couldn't see the men's horses anywhere, but they couldn't have come by foot, could they have? The bountyhunter's equipment wasn't visible either, as he was still wearing that trenchcoat and wasn't even facing Jonathan now.

The bountyhunter dissappeared into the building, the only landmark for miles. A few shots were heard and one of the Kaizo brothers, the one with the pony tail, jumped out of the window. He ran off to the back of the building, not even paying any attention to Jonathan, who had managed to get up.

Some more shots were heard as Jonathan slowly made his way to the house's doors. And then, just as he reached the open door, it was silent. One could hear a horse galloping in the distance, but that was it.

Through the door Jonathan could see a table with some half empty bottles of booze and some papers on it, some rope on a hook on the wall, some shelves with old cans of beans and the stairs. Jonathan could hear footsteps walking up to the stairs above him. Never a good sign, that.

1928: Robert Lester Salinger (AKA Doc)
Robert ran for the back of the car, but didn't manage to make it before the wheelman jumped out and opened fire at him. For lack of any better options Robert jumped behind a couple of garbage cans, which did a good enough job preventing him getting shot.

"I don't know how you managed to escape, but my friends will come out of that church soon enough, and you don't stand a chance against the four of us. Hell, you don't even stand a chance against me"

Robert heard a click as the wheelman reloaded and ventured a peek above the garbage cans. The wheelman had taken cover behind the car. Suddenly there was a loud groan as the church doors opened.

"Right in time, fellows. I don't know how you managed to let him escape, but I've got him pinned down and... Wait, wasn't the church door blocked? How did you..."

The wheelman turned around to look at the doors.

"Oh god"

The creature that had assaulted Robert earlier stood there, covered in blood. In the light of the street lanterns Robert could see that those parts of him that weren't covered in blood were actually green, and not black as the strange lighting in the church had led him to believe. The creature made a great leap and ended up on top of the wheelman. There were some muffled screams and plenty more blood.

1948: Jarvis McArthur
Jarvis snatched up the corpse and fired away at the gunmen, killing two and managing to blow one's leg off. It seemed like it was his lucky night, it almost seemed too easy. Almost, because when he started firing at the strange monster who seemed to be calling the shots, he noticed his bullets had no effect on the beast.

"Oh ****" Jarvis said as the beast calmly advanced on him, those huge claws shining in the moonlight. Jarvis tossed the corpse at the beast, hoping to slow him down, and jumped for the nearest cover: an alley.

Jarvis ran as hard as he could, even though his foot hurt like hell from the landing after jumping off the warehouse. The alley seemed to be a small opening between another warehouse and a factory. If Jarvis' memory served him right, and it rarely did these days, they canned fish in that factory.

Jarvis raced past a dumpster, hoping he would make it to the end of the alley atleast before the monster caught up with him, but then his luck ran out. He tripped. Over someone's foot. Jarvis splashed into a puddle of mud and as he scrambled to get to his feet he heard a familiar voice.

"You know how this goes, bub. Your money or your life"

Eric. That two-bit thug. Of all the places to run into him... He always managed to show up at the wrong time. Eric had been lying behind the dumpster, and it was unclear what he was doing there, but behind him the door to the warehouse was open, so that might have had something to do with it. Eric was armed, off course, with a saturday night special. Crummy gun, six bullets, but certainly enough to kill a man at this range.

1995: Richard Dillen (AKA Leviathan)
The cop squealed as Richard grabbed him and dug his hands into the poor man's flesh. The gun went off, twice. The cop struggled some more, but soon all life had drained out of him. Richard let him fall, and he hit his head on the back of the car on his way down.

"Sorry, but I really am in a hurry"

Richard almost laughed. For a moment he could feel that madness take a grip of him, that urge to kill, but he soon calmed down. He rolled the cop aside, into a shallow pit at the side of the parking lot. Burrying him seemed like too much work, and he really was running late.

He walked back to the car and was about to close the trunk when he noticed it: the cop had shot the girl. Not on purpose, probably, but in a vague attempt to kill Richard. She wasn't dead though, just bleeding, bad. If Richard wanted to get her to the boathouse before she died, he'd have to be fast, and he'd have to pass through a small town at full speed, a difficult feat when there's blood on your back bumper and plenty of cops looking for some speed offenders.

2009: Anna Rachel Wilder
The cab stopped.
"San Fransisco police departement, here we are"
Rachel payed the man without a word and exited the cab.
"You have a nice day now, little lady" the man said and drove off.

Rachel was quite sure she wouldn't have a pleasant day. She was there to identify her sister's corpse. She'd gotten the call the evening before and a loud policeman with a terrible accent had asked her to come over as soon as possible. They'd called her mother first, but coming over all the way from Alaska to see the mutilated remains of her daughter hadn't appealed to Rachel's mother. Rachel lived closer, so she'd have to do it. The corpse would be flown over to Fairbanks once the cops didn't need it anymore as evidence. The worst part, besides her sister being dead, off course, was that they wouldn't even tell her what killed her.

Rachel walked into the police bureau and followed the route that had been described to her on the phone. She walked into hell. Well, it was a lot like hell anyways. It was a large white room with not much more than a bunch of chairs and a vending machine. This room was packed with people. They were all sad, upset and hysterical and they were all waiting for the same thing: the morgue. It seemed Mary Wilder wasn't the only victim of, well, whatever had happened. Either that or San Fransisco wasn't a place you would want to live in.

Rachel found herself a seat next to a thin man in a business suit. He smiled at her, but it hardly seemed sincere. He didn't really seem to fit in with the crowd, and Rachel could detect the slightest sign of sadness or anger on him. He was rather old, weathered, and had a very stern look in his eyes. He had halflong, thin grey hair and a hook nose. His suit appeared as old as he was.
"The name is Edgar" he said, extending a hand. Rachel shook it, unsure what else to do. It felt like worn leather.
"Have you got a family member in there?"
"Well, yes, isn't that why we're all here?
"Most of us, yes. Not me though. A friend of mine might be in there, but they wouldn't tell me, because I'm not a relative. They think I'm with the press or something"
"Oh. Aren't you?"
The thin man laughed.
"No, definitely not. Say, Anna, while you're in there, could you check if there's a mister Arthur Campbell in there? Just sneak away when you're supposed to leave. It pays good money, and it's not too hard. Just check the nametags on the drawers. You know, the ones the dead people are in. I'll make it worth your while"

Before Rachel could reply an officer came out of the morgue door and called her name. She got up and followed him in. The morgue was bigger than she'd imagined. As she walked in she came into a room with four doors. One seemed to lead to a computer lab, a second was closed but the window next to it showed a large room where several corpses were being tested forensically, the fourth door led back and they took the third, which led them to the room with all the "drawers", as Edgar had described them. The police officer accompanying her looked through the drawers until he finally found the name "Mary Wilder" on one and opened it. Inside where the remains of what might have been Rachel's sister. She was charred beyond recognision. Only her face and upper body poked out of the bag, but that was enough to see she had terrible burn wounds. Only about a quarter of her face wasn't affected, and that led Rachel to believe it was indeed her sister, but she couldn't be sure.
"What happened to her?"
"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you that. Suffice to say it happened during the terrorist attack on that appartment building on Full Street"
"Terrorist attack?"
"That's what the papers are saying. I can't really tell you any more. The place was raided by a bunch of loons who killed everybody"
"But why?"
"Our official position is that we don't know m'am. Now is this your sister?"
The cop was holding some papers and a pen. It looked like he really wanted to tick off that box so he could get on with his work.

2009: Shona Golding (AKA The Emerald Flame)

Massacre at Full Street
Yesterday disaster struck at 49 Full Street when a group of what are assumed to have been terrorists made their way into the appartment building. Witnesses have said that the terrorists were disguised as clowns. Inside the building they started firing guns, making their way up the floors by killing everyone they met. After the first shots were fired and concerned inhabitants called 911, the police surrounded the building, expecting a hostage action. No such action was taken however. Instead the terrorists violently made their way up the fifth or sixth floor, where they are assumed to have holed up for a while. In the afternoon several SWAT teams were sent in, both by a daring helicopter landing on the roof and through the front door. Those living in the floors above the sixth floor are said to have been safe, but any residents of the lower floors who were present at the time of the attack have probably been killed. None of the witnesses were available for comments. No full list of victims has yet been made available. Police chief Xander O'Harris was reported as saying this is the worst thing to happen to San Fransisco after the weather disturbances in Januari. The police are said to be investigating this incident at full force. None of the terrorists were as yet identified or reported captured

Shona put down the paper. Yesterday had been a bad day indeed. Not because of the massacre, though that wasn't too good either, off course. No, yesterday she had found out Lucius had been lying to her. Or, well, not telling her everything at least. Golding Research and Technology, or GRT for short, had been funding private research of a man called Arthur Campbell. The man was a nutjob and Shona would have probably never agreed on funding him if she'd been asked. Especially not such large amounts of money.

A couple of years earlier, Arthur Campbell had shown up at GRT's doorstep during Shona's absence. He'd had some crudentials, sure. Several degrees at MIT and some groundbreaking research, but that didn't matter, as he'd clearly gone mad. He proposed GRT to build a timetravelling machine. Somehow, Lucius had found this acceptable and agreed. He'd been sending money to professor Campbell ever since, more and more every month it seemed.

The worst part about this, was that professor Campbell was dead. Since he claimed to be reaching the end of his project, Lucius had urged him to move his equipment to San Fransisco, near the main facilities of GRT. Off course Campbell was still not officially allowed in the GRT research labs, so Lucius had arranged an appartment for him. The appartment had been at 49 Full Street. Only after this Lucius had felt the need to confess his dealing with the man.

To make matters worse, he hadn't told her because he felt sorry, but because he was convinced the project was too valuable to give up, especially so near it's completion. The police had understandably locked down 49 Full Street after they'd spent the entire night dragging out charred corpses and now they refused Mr. Piedmont access to the building. Mr. Piedmont, on the other hand, insisted they needed to get in there to get the blueprints Mr. Campbell left behind before they dissappeared forever in the claws of the government. Mr. piedmont had off course only known one person who could plausibly get in there and not be tempted to sell the blueprints to the government: his good friend Shona Golding. He'd asked her as a favor.

It almost evening once more and this time the building wouldn't be swarming with cops. Sure, there would be some, but not as much as they'd needed yesterday to drag out all the human remains. Shona wondered whether she would really do this. Lucius was a really good friend, but this all seemed a tad silly, didn't it?

[Greystone]

Shona looked at her watch, a couple minutes to full dark, which is when the Emerald Flame did her work.

"Well, If Lucius wants me to do something, I have two calls to make" She said with a half-smirk.

She pulled out her cellphone, which was heavily encrypted of course, and dialed Mikhail's number.

He answered in Russian "{Hello? This is Mikhail. Who the hell is waking me at this hour"

She smiled "{Its Shona Mikhail, and I know your not sleeping at this hour.}"

"{Da** it Shona, your right}" he said with a laugh "{I just like to mess with people like that}"

"{I Know you do, listen I need you to find information on a man by the name of Dr. Arthur Campbell, he has been getting money from GRT for years}"

"{Of course, I check into it}" Mikhail said without pause.

"{Oh, and could you please get me to Kiera, standard scrambling}" Shona asked smirking.

Mikhail sighed theatrically "{Yes oh lovesick one}" and without waiting for a reply he switched it to Kiera.

"Yes? Kiera's Dojo." Kiera's voice filled the phone.

"Hey Honey, I just wanted to tell you that our date tomorrow may be a little trouble" Shona said, crossing her fingers.

"What Lucius got you working overtime?" Kiera asked with a laugh.

"You could say that, he has some problems with a certain Emerald" Shona said rolling her eyes.

"Ugh, thats fine, I'll still be on the plane over tomorrow afternoon, if your not there I will just have too start in on your wine cooler" kiera said.

"I knew you'd be trouble when I got you" Shona said " By the way, watch out for any cops, Tanner has been on my a** lately"

"I can deal with Tanner, see you" Kiera said.

"Bye" with that she clicked of the phone.

She walked towards her huge closet and began pulling on her cat suit, as she placed the mask over her head she sighed "This better be worth it"

[AmberVael]

Rachel thinks quickly, while at the same time her mind protests at thinking quickly and just acting so coldly, thinking about getting money... her sister was dead. How could she think about money at a time like this? She hesitated for a while, then slowly a little plan began to form in her mind, using her own feelings and the apparent feelings of the police officer in it, incorporating it all in a way that could satisfy herself and him.

"I... I really can't tell so quickly, sir. There's just so little left."

She bites her lip, looking up at him. There were tears in her eyes, and they didn't really have to be faked. She was pretty sure that was her sister in there, despite what she was saying, and that didn't leave her in the best of moods. It was really just difficult to let it sink in, that her sister was dead. Dead... the only person who had really been family to her.
Rachel dabs at her eyes and looks up at the officer.

"M-maybe if I had a little more time, sir... but I don't, um, want to hold you up..."

She seems to think a little bit, then, pretending a bit of nervousness, suggests something timidly.

"I don't uh, want to make anyone wait... i-if you want, maybe you could go get the next person, and when you come back with them I could have an answer?"

Rachel glances over at the drawer containing her sister, holding back tears, and tries to let the idea that maybe she just wants a little time alone to cry sink in, so she can compose herself and her thoughts and think objectively.

[Voshkod]

Lt. General Mikhail Ratkunin

The Russian sat there silently, mouth agape, for a long moment. I've gone mad. There's no other explanation. Or this is some Nazi trick. Or . . . .

"Better to die on my feet than died to a chair, old man," he said, standing up. "Though I'd prefer not to die at all. I have no friends here, none that killed your friends, and I am not a demon."

If madness, shall I not embrace it?

"I may be a madman, though. I may be just that."

He thought back to old stories, to his mother, the traitoress, telling him of Baba Yaga and her flying mortar and pestle. Old stories of the things that lived off the beaten paths, in the dark damp places of Mother Russia. Soft places.

"What proof would you want that I am no demon, old man? Cut me, and I will bleed the life of a man."

I hope my Japanese is better than I think it is.

[Lonna]

Taira Itagaki

Itagaki watched her husband as they rode to his rival's lands, new and unexpected thoughts swirling through her mind. His devotion to his duty and his determination to salvage what honor he retained had impressed her, and his vulnerable expression as he slept stirred an unfamiliar sense of compassion in her. For the first time she wondered how he felt, married to a woman he barely knew, wounded in combat, and now forced to seek revenge for his wife's father. Perhaps, once this was all over, she would try to talk with him as she did with Ukitake-sensei, try to understand him instead of simply knowing him.

Then they arrived, and Itagaki thrust such thoughts aside as she prepared to face her husband's rival, a man who was rumored to have sworn personal revenge on Ishida and Itagaki both, and ask him for a favor. She listened impassively as the men discussed the situation, but spoke up in the moment of silence following Jushiro Mayuri flat denial of their claim.

"Jurshiro-dono," she began respectfully, "I beg your forgiveness if I speak out of turn, but I must voice my thoughts. It seems to me that much here depends on the intelligence of the demon. For if the demon is little more than an animal, and was indeed captured by the men of your household and on your lands, then by law you have the right to do with it as you will, as one would with a wild beast.

"Yet I alone still live of those who bore witness to the entirety of the demon's attack, and I say to you that I heard a noise like no animal's cry, but like a language - though one harsh and vile. I saw fear and confusion in its eyes even as it struck down my father, Shihouin Saburo, and defiled my mother's fresh grave with the blood of proud warriors. And when I alone stood before it, more helpless by far than those already slain, it fled, again speaking in its foul tongue. These are not the actions of a beast, but of a thinking being. Though it is perhaps less than a man, if it understands what it has done, the law says we have blood-right to its life, and that you must hand it over to us to do with as we will, as one would with a murderer.

"Therefor let the demon be brought out and tested, that all here may see the truth of the matter. Either way, all will know that the honor of the capture belongs to Mayuri-sama, proud son of the Jushiro clan."

Speech finished, Itagaki bowed slightly and returned to standing silently at her husband's side, hoping that Mayuri would not risk refusing her when she had quoted the law before so many witnesses. If nothing else, she wanted another look at the demon. Perhaps this time, without fear fogging her mind, she would be able to decide for certain whether it was a demon or not.

[Niasen]

Jarvis McArthur

Oh for the love of...This makes perfect sense of course, considering how this day is going.

Not even taking time to think it through, Jarvis says "Here take it!" And throws is tommygun at Eric, specifically towards his gun hand. He then kicks out to Erics knee, the one holding the gun, holds the gun arm and gives him a cross to the jaw as hard as he can.

He then proceeds to make sure Eric is unconscious by possibly pistol whipping him with his own gun or just more punches, then takes both the tommy and the special away, and throws poor Eric into the dumpster. You may be a pain but even you don't deserve to be slaughtered by that nightmare...least not yet.

Jarvis unfortunately accidentally kicks the special underneath the dumpster so he just leaves it, taking the tommy and running like a bat out of hell towards the door, which he slams behind him and see's if he can lock.

If I live through this, I might wanna take a new safer career, like being a weapons tester target.

[HardboiledJJ]

As he slowly made his way to the building, the wounded gunman managed to fumble six shots back into one of his Peacemakers. On a good day, both would have been reloaded without a thought. This was not a good day, and he was lucky years of practice allowed him this much. In his off hand he held his Bowie knife in a reverse grip-the way Charlie had taught him.

Oh God, Charlie. I am so sorry. Why does this man need me dead? Why did you have to die for me you dumb sonuvabitch?

The papers on the table called to Jonathan. Too many years of investigations and unexplained bloodshed beckoned him. Slowly, quietly, he moved in-keeping to what would be the stairs' blind spot both to examine the papers and to hope for a chance of ambush.

[Greystone]

(I'm going to post again mainly because I didn't do anything last post)

Shona quickly flipped out into the night, now fully in her stealth suit. She moved quickly and silently over the rooftops to her target. Several police stood watch, but none really looked up.

She moved into a upper stairs window, and quickly she climbed up onto the ceiling until she reached the number Lucius had given her.

She fiddled with the lock...which was oddly unlocked- she pushed in and surveyed the room....

(Is this post okay, I'm sorta new too free form games....)

[Hairb]

Well, this looks like it... seems my number's come up at last. It all seemed a little distant now; the unfortunate driver's screams had faded into the background and the night's chill was ebbing away. Then a drowning sensation seized him, and Doc realised he wasn't going down without a fight. Not this time.
Cocking his pistol, he made a beeline for the car's front passenger door, pleading with whatever force in the universe that had landed him in this mess that he'd be able to make the leap across the central console and into the driver's seat. That thing's fast, but can it outrun a car? he thought.

[ForzaFiori]

Bólnautr Skoftason

Bólnautr panics for a second as he feels the arm on his leg, but quickly gains control of himself. He inhales a deep lungful of air, ducks under the water, and works on getting the man off of him. He tries to pry the arm of off first, but only briefly, as he figures that the scaled man is stronger than he is. After that attempt, he twists around to get his hands farther down, and jabs a finger into each eye of the dragon man.

[MrEdwardNigma]

857: Bólnautr Skoftason
Bólnautr maniacally wrestled the clawed hand at his feet, but it was in vain: the dragonman would not let go. Desperate, the Norse warrior dived down until he was almost face to face with the monstrosity, deep beneath the waves. The creature smirked, bearing it's gigantic, gruesomely sharp looking teeth. Then he stopped smirking, as Bólnautr thrust his fingers into the dragonman's eyes. The creature screeched and sucked the icy cold seawater into it's longues. Bólnautr felt the pressure on his foot loosen and pushed himself up on the creature with his feet, nto even looking behind him to see what happened to it. He badly needed air.

With a splash the viking resurfaced among the wreckage of the ship. It was stormy and most of the fire had been doused by the rain, so Bólnautr grabbed onto a barrel as it drifted past. He did not want to sink beneath those waves again. He drifted for a while, without spotting any of the others, and now that the battle had ended, he was starting to focus on the way the waves pulled him up and down, and up and down. It started out as sort of a slow movement, a slight rise of the water, and then he felt the barrel push against his chest, stronger and stronger, until it finally ended when the wave reached it's peak. That was the worst bit, being up there while he slowly made the transfer from a rising to a falling motion. He felt butterflies in his stomach, but not the good kind. And then he would plummet down, hitting the watersurface hard and the barrel even harder. He had soar spots where the metal on the barrel kept hitting him, and he even bled in places, but he knew that if he let go he'd be lost forever. Bólnautr tied himself to the barrel, and passed out.

He woke up again after three pokes of the stick. Slightly dizzy he got up, shaking off the seaweed and spitting out some mouthfulls of sand. The kids had taken some distance from him. They weren't used to strangers. There were three of them. Two boys and a girl. One of the boys was holding a stick, driftwood which he had been poking the unconscious Bólnautr with, while the other was investigating the barrel that lay only a couple of meters away from where Bólnautr woke up. The girl was clearly much less curious than the boys and rather scared of the stranger as she was furthest away from him, clutching her basket of oysters tightly and trying hard to make herself dissappear. One of the boys mumbled something, but the local dialect was unintelligable to Bólnautr. The years of isolation might have had something to do with that. He was on the island Coldrock, where dragons roamed.

1279: Taira Itagaki
There was some murmur after Itagaki's speech. The old men seemed to agree.
"Yes," one of them spoke, "let us see this demon, let us confront this creature that has been set upon us by forces unknown! We have every right to, even if you do keep the right of the kill, Mayuri-sama".

Hesitantly, Mayuri nodded. His servants seemed to understand and two heavily armed guards dissappeared into the hallways. Only now did Itagaki really notice how many armed warriors Mayuri had placed in the room. There were more than he had used on that fateful raid when Itagaki sent him home like a dog with his tail behind his legs. They were better armed too.

A door opened behind Mayuri, and the demon was dragged in. He was sweating heavily, and his clothes were torn. Most of the items he'd had on him were gone, including the strange gem that had held such an appeal to Itagaki and metal object that had caused so much death and destruction. The demon seemed pretty harmless without it, almost pathetic even. The guards stopped and accompanied by the jingling of his chains the demon dropped onto his knees. He looked around at the warriors gathered before him, hate filling his eyes. He spoke, but yet again he used that crude and incomprehensible tongue. Then he spat on the floor. It wasn't just spit either, it was a clot of blood. Mayuri snapped his fingers and one of the guards whacked the demon on his face. The guards were disciplined, that reaction took less than a second.

"He's wounded" one of the old men spoke.

"He was hit several times by my bow. We've extracted three arrows from him so far but the fourth is stuck in his gut and removing it would probably kill him"

"He seems bright enough" another said, as he moved his hand back and forth in front of the demon and watched his gaze follow it.

"He was bright enough to kill one of my men while we were trying to capture him. He was not bright enough to stay away from my lands"

Some of the guards laughed, but not loudly.

The group seemed conflicted about what to do with the demon.

1279: Lt. General Mikhail Ratkunin
The old man smiled.
"Your lies do not fool me, demon. I am too old to fall for simple tricks. To get past me you will have to face my blade. I may die in this fight, but I will die with honour. I wish the same for you, demon"
The old man had stepped back several paces, but now started advancing on Mikhail, calmly. He was taking his time and his blade slowly moved from one side to the other. He was biding his time.

While it was almost mesmerising watching the old man prepare to fight with only experience on his side, except enthusiasm and muscle, Mikhail started to realise he was going to have to do something to stay alive.

1890: Jonathan Morris
Jonathan moved over to the table, ignoring the footsteps he heard on the floor above. As he reached the table he almost collapsed on it, but managed to keep himself upright by leaning on it. The papers... calculations. Bills. Paycuts. They'd sat here, waiting for him to arrive, calculating how much this job was going to earn them. Railroad money. Mayombe was funding this gig. And on a note, the message Charlie had telegraphed Jonathan. It wasn't even in his writing.

That was when the gun went off. Luckily, it was also the exact moment when Jonathan's legs couldn't hold it anymore, and he tumbled over table and all. The bullet drilled a hole in the wood, right above his head. The bountyhunter didn't speak, and moved soundlessly, but judging from where the bullet had come from, he was somewhere atop the stairs.

1928: Robert Lester Salinger (AKA Doc)
Robert ran, ran as hard as he could. He jumped into the driver's seat, the door of the car conveniently being open, and slammed his foot down on the gas, even with the door open and his pistol still in hand. The tires screeched and the car raced off. The mayor had funded these guys well enough for them to get a swell ride. It didn't look like much, but the engine had been tooled up pretty good.

The creature followed for about two blocks, jumping at the car and running on all fours at times, but eventually Salinger lost the monstrosity.

Alive... I'm still alive... But what now?

1948: Jarvis McArthur
Jarvis made quick work of Eric, knocking him out cold. He grabbed the unconscious mugger and tried to lift him in the dumpster, but that's when the monster jumped them. It seemed he'd miscalculated how much time he'd need. One of the creature's claws slashed into his shoulder whiel the other cut into Eric, who Jarvis happened to be holding as a shield when he was jumped. There was noise at the end of the alley and some more of Jelly's men were approaching, probably wielding more tommies. Meanwhile some punk exited from the open door to the warehouse. He shrieked, dropping the box he was holding and pulling out his gun.

"****, Eric, you were supposed to watch the exit! Eric?"

His gun went off several times at the creature, distracting it enough for Jarvis to crawl out beneath it.

"There he is!" one of Jelly's men yelled, and the mobsters started running towards them. They couldn't fire yet though, as their "boss" was still blocking the way.

2009: Anna Rachel Wilder
The officer nodded.
"Yeah, sure. I understand"
He uneasily made his way out of the room, heading for the room with the corpses. As soon as he left Rachel looked over the drawers until she finally found the one she was looking for: Arthur Campbell. Her sister was dead, and she was very sad about that, but somehow she couldn't pass this up. She slid open the drawer, fueled by a peculiar sense of curiosity, and gazed upon the corpse of an old man. He had white hair and was wearing a labcoat. He wasn't as horribly defigured as her sister had been. In fact, he didn't even look that dead. You could think he was just sleeping peacefully, if you disregarded the lack of breathing.

The sheet lying across the dead man slipped down somehow, and as Rachel rushed to put it back, she noticed Arthur had something clenched in his hand. She touched his hand, only briefly, and it folded open like a flower in the morning. He'd been holding a metal cylinder. Somehow it seemed appealing to Rachel and she slipped it into her pocket. She managed to close the drawer just before the cop walked in again.

"So, is it her?"

"Yes. I'm sure now"

The cop ticked off his box and seemed pleased. he then guided her back to the waiting room, where Edgar was waiting for her.
"So, is he in there?"

2009: Shona Golding (AKA The Emerald Flame)
Shona, or the "Emerald Flame", made her way into the building. The whole place was a mess. Walls had been blown out, blood was splattered across the walls and there were scorchmarks everywhere. Some of the stairs even seemed to have collapsed and the cops had tried to bridge the gaps with some metal ladder with boards tied to them.

Shona found the door to the appartment, which was not even locked. In fact, it was open.

The appartment looked like the man had just moved in, which made sense because Shona knew he did. The only things that had been unpacked so far were a bloodcovered couch, a desk, two computer and a gigantic machine. The machine was huge and Shona was somewhat comforted that at least the man she'd been paying for so many years had been arduous enough to build up the machine as soon as he arrived, before even unpacking his towels and such. The machine reminded Shona of a spider. A huge spider with metal legs and a flat body. There were about ten control panels mounted on the thing and five more on the huge computer that was wired up to it. Strangely, the machine was on. There were lights softly glowing on the platform beneath the huge spider and several of the control panels had screensavers running on them.

Shona ignored the machine and went for the desk, where the blueprints were. He'd needed them to assemble the machine, so it only made sense he'd unpacked them too. What was somewhat out of place on the desk though was a dirty diaper. Shona could think of any reason there would have been a baby in the room.

Her phone bleeped and she checked it. Mikhail had sent her the information on Campbell. He had no kids, he'd never even had a wife. It seemed he'd spent all his life on research. The only dirt Mikhail had been able to pull up on him were some parking tickets and some hacking when he was a kid. That explained the ridiculous number of computers he still had packed up.

Suddenly a flashlight shone into the room.

"Hey, is anyone there? This is officer Malone with the San Fransisco police department. This area is off limits to all civilians"

"Oh, come on now, Bobby, there's no one there!"

"I swear, I heard something"

"It's just this place, Bobby, it gets to you. I mean, killer clowns? That's creepy, man. And that painting on the sixth floor too. It scares the bejeezus out of me. Hell, even that machine in here is nightmare fuel, but it sure ain't alive, Bobby!"

"What worries me is the way they just dissapeared without a plausible escape route. They might still be in here"

"That's ridiculous. We searched the place thoroughly"

"Maybe not thoroughly enough. Come on, let's check it out"

Two sets of footsteps walked up to the door. There was no way out for Shona.

[Niasen]

Jarvis McArthur

The pain throbbed in his shoulder badly, but he ignored it as he got out from under the beast. He didn't know what the hell he was going to do or how in the name of the father, son, AND the holy spirit he was going to survive, but apparently fate still wanted to play with him for a while since it lent him this slightly trigger happy punk.

Now if he played his cards right, and with a bit of luck, he might find out how Eric's friend got here and how they planned to leave. He runs towards the door, pointing his tommy gun towards the creature and firing, flinching horribly due to the pain and yelling to the guy "Get in and close the door before it rips us apart!!!"

Oblivious to the reaction of the thief, Jarvis runs through the door, turns around, if need be grabbing the punk by the shirt collar and bringing him in, and slamming the door shut, attempting to lock it if at all possible. While doing all this he says to the guy "Listen, unless you want the freak outside giving you a big warm cuddly hug with his sharp claws or his buddies use us for target practice for SEEING there pet freak, you better help me barricade this door a little and find another way outta this area!" Jarvis realized he was possibly bluffing on the flunkies shooting the guy, but it was a possibility and he was a bit pressed for time to find out the truth. He realized as soon as he finished talking though that he left Eric outside, wounded, with that...thing and its buddies, who probably would kill him. Sorry Eric, I tried, but it looks like you finally wound up in truly the worst place you could. Hopefully you'll stay asleep right now, whether they kill ya or pass ya up, cause you don't want that things ugly mug to be the last face you see.

[ForzaFiori]

Bólnautr Skoftason

Bólnautr stands shakily. He turns to the kids and coughs up some seawater, before trying to talk.Can... Can you understand me? he manages to choke out. Please, If you can, I need to get to the town.

[AmberVael]

Anna Rachel Wilder

Rachel gives a sigh and nods to Edgar. Normally under the circumstances she'd ask for payment first, but at the moment she feels too sympathetic for him, and isn't in a good mood herself. It's still hard for her to believe- how could her sister be dead? What had Mary ever done to deserve this? It wasn't like she had done things wrong like Rachel had... if Rachel had been shot or murdered it might have been understandable considering her job: she didn't make friends by stealing their money, after all, but Mary helped people...

"He is. I even made sure there was a body..."

Suddenly, something strikes Rachel as a little about that. If he had been in the same incident as Mary, why on earth was Mary nearly unidentifiable, while Campbell looked perfectly fine? If he had been anywhere nearby- anywhere close enough to have died in the same attack, why had he been untouched? Rachel might have been more curious to investigate, but the fact just seemed dull to her. Why should she care? It wasn't worth caring about in the light of... other events.

The con artist puts a hand over her face for a moment, fighting back tears and taking just one moment for herself. After that she drops her hand and looks back up, her composure completely reclaimed. She may be a little cooler and polite, but she didn't seem anywhere near mourning- though inwardly she just wanted to cry- cry for her sister, selfishly for her own loss and for the injustice of this.

"I'm sorry... I wish I could have told you he wasn't there."

She slips a hand into her pocket and flips the metal cylinder over and over again, debating inwardly whether to give it to Edgar or to keep it... on one hand, Edgar apparently knew the man, but on the other hand, some shred of curiosity remained and begged her to hold onto it. If Edgar had wanted it, he would have asked to check for it, right? What if he ratted her out about it- what if it was found by the police and traced back to her? As it was, no one would likely notice...

Resolutely, Rachel withdraws her empty hand from her pocket and waits for Edgar to respond in some way, hoping she can get this over with and go back to a hotel for a while. She needed some time to grieve.

[Hairb]

Time to move quickly. Robert made for his home on Edison Lane, creating a mental checklist of things he'd need. He parked the car in the driveway, but left the motor running. Before leaving the car, he scanned the building's small courtyard for assailants, hoping the thugs were too cocky to prepare a backup ambush.

[Voshkod]

Lt. General Mikhail Ratkunin

Rage started to build in Mikhail. Stripped of his army, his dignity, and soon his life, all on the same day. And to die at the hands of some old Japanese fool and his sword.

"Fine, you son of a bitch," he growled in a tone that used to set Field Marshals back on their heels. "You want to die? Then let us dance."

With that, he picked up the chair he had been tied to and charged the swordsman. Swinging the chair with whatever strength he could muster, he tried to brush the sword aside and cave in the man's skull.