Rigor Mortis, [IC]

[TheIronRuler]

A modern gritty fantasy filled to the brim with drama and violence set in Washington DC (We also have tits).
What do you do when you are stripped of everything you once had, even your life, and then violently returned only to exist as a pawn in a greater game of chess?
OOC
{Still accepting players. Ask in OOC thread.}

*Frank and Alice*

The Tartaros Pit wasn't the kind of place you would expect to be a clothing store. Sitting near the entrance to the Lincoln Mall, it served passersby with elegant men's apparel – or so it was believed to do. Staring at the entrance through the glass tall windows, Frank stood near the parking lot of the Mall. He stayed still for over ten minutes, keeping his head steady as he tried not to look down at the person sitting in front of him. She was drawing a picture on a sheet of paper, held up on a wooden post. "One moment, Frank", the woman said in her sweet voice. Frank's right eyebrow twitched and he walked out of his pose. The woman protested, but he walked around her and looked at the picture.

"That uniform", Frank quietly said. "Yes, Frank. I remember. US Infantry had different clothes. I don't know why you won't throw that old German one", the woman looked at his grey blazer and copper, silver colored eagle pin. "Alice. Stop", Frank looks visibly uncomfortable, "A nice drawing", he tried to end the conversation.

"You know I hate them", Alice said, this time in a different, emotionless tone. Frank leaned down and held his head near Alice's. "Did you hate Klaus?", he whispered in her ear.

"Oui. Je le'ai deteste", she answered. She stood up and pushed the chair she was sitting on down and walked a few steps away from the stand. "It's not finished yet", she spoke to Frank. He didn't mind. He snapped his fingers and pushed his arm forward, and from his palm came a spark of fire. The drawing, the stand it was put on and the chair Alice sat on were all set ablaze. Alice stared at Frank for a little while before turning away from him and walking in a brisk pace to the mall's entrance. Frank shrugged and followed her.

"Why are we here?" Alice asked Frank as she stopped in her place before entering The Tartaros Pit. "We could have gone and seen José", she continued to protest. Frank turned around and looked at her silently, examining her composure. "I don't want to see José. Come, Klaus is waiting", he raised his right hand and motioned her to follow him as he entered the shop.

The Tartaros Pit, a rather ordinary looking shop stocking on suits, trousers, hats, shoes and belts - all for men, was run by Klaus Schultz, an elderly German gentleman who came to America two decades ago. "Afternoon", Frank announced his arrival to Klaus. Alice walked behind him, her red apparel contrasting all of the colorless gray clothes in the shop. "Any news?", Frank asked Klaus. He heard a voice coming from behind a door in the back, "G.I.Joe!", he said loudly from behind the wooden door.

The door opened and from it came Klaus. A man in his late seventies, rather short and appears frail and with his thin gray hairs combed to the right. He walked towards Frank with the help of a thin and stylish cane, brandishing a smile. His smile narrowed the moment he noticed Alice as she followed Frank into the shop, "Jolie Rouge, welcome".

"It's Alice", Alice corrected Klaus. Frank walked to greet Klaus and they smiled, held out their hands and hugged each other. "Klaus, did you find where the thief is at?" Frank asked. Alice walked out of the shop and looked outside. She leaned against the glass window and waited for Frank's men to appear.
"Something strange", Klaus began to explain his findings, "I don't understand much. He stole it through his Electricity-", Klaus stopped, rolled his eyes and hit his cane on the floor,"-Computer, yes. A Hack, no - Hacker. She told me the Tzardom sent its men to fight the Britons in the Opium trade. We can't collect the debt if the Russians succeed", Klaus continued his explanation. Klaus's hand was visibly shaking as he handed Frank a piece of paper with some scribbles on it. "Klaus, is there something wrong?", Frank inquired as to the health of the old man.

"I just need a cigarette, boy. My life is running out". The old man looked into Frank's eyes and Frank was shocked at the desperation in his plea. Frank quickly reached for his jacket's inner pocket and took out a cigarette pack, quickly handing it to Klaus without looking at him. He knew what he was doing was forbidden, but he couldn't let Klaus live like that any longer. Klaus tried to speak as he took the cigarettes, but instead remained silent, a hint of a smile appearing on his face.

"Danke", Klaus spoke in a trembling voice. Frank turned his back to him and walked away from the shop, Alice following him closely behind.

*Klaus Schultz*

The closed shop in the middle of the work day did indeed bring suspicion to the small shop near the Mall entrance, but not many cared much for its wares or owner. Klaus found himself slumped on a wooden chair, his back leaning against one of the store's walls and staring out into the closed and draped entrance. His hands shook when he first took one of the cigarettes out and almost glued it to his mouth. It took him four nerve-wrecking attempts to press the lighter and witness the birth of new fire swerve out and ignite the cigarette. Frank was still smoking those damn lucky stars. Klaus inhaled the smoke and allowed it to leave his lungs through his nostrils. A wide smile quickly appeared on his face as he drew another breath from the cigarette.

His eyes scoured the room he was in. Gray, colorless and lifeless, the shop stood a thorn in the side of all of the clothing stores obsessing over pop culture and French fashion in the Lincoln Mall. They called it an ugly place to look at, but Klaus knew better. To his right were the suits in all of their splendor and on the floor laid boxes of the finest shoes available. To his left he saw the cash register and the other merchandise he kept, shirts and ties, he even stocked on men's underwear to make his shop look more modern.

Klaus inhaled again and kept the smoke in his lungs for a long while. He closed his eyes and exhaled the smoke from his nostrils, hoping that Frank's contribution will help him get through the year. Torture doesn't pay as well as it did, and nowadays it takes Klaus too much energy to preserve himself. He finished the cigarette and threw it on the ground, then proceeded to raise his old bones up and smash the burning paper before it has the chance to set fire to his shop.

Klaus turned around and walked a few steps towards the wooden door he came from only a few minutes ago to greet his friend Frank, opened it and closed it behind him, hitting the lock before he continued to walk down the stairs to the real Tartaros Pit. The basement of the facility wasn't much of a place either, but at least nobody saw it long enough to criticize Klaus's choice of decor. The walls were made of black stone and the sensation of coldness seeped through Klaus's bones the moment he stepped foot into the first floor of the Tartaros Pit.

In front of his eyes was a long corridor with a dead end a few feet ahead. There were doors to both sides, six of them to be more precise, each leading to a small chamber. Klaus made his way to chamber number two and placed his hand over the old door, squeezing it tightly and letting the sound of rusted metal echo through the facility. There was no way the sound could escape and be heard upstairs.

Klaus watched as the prisoner furiously tried to release herself from her bonds and reach the operating table nearby with an assortment of tools on display. She was a beauty, a remarkable specimen in this day and age, a lovely natural Russian girl that came from the head family. They both knew the language and Klaus wanted to make the girl feel as comfortable as possible, so he started the conversation with his rusty Russian.

"Tell me again why you came here.", Klaus spoke in a menacing tone. He raised his hand up before the girl answered, "No, no, no; I will tear out one of your pretty little nails for every curse word I hear coming out of your pretty little mouth, darling".

*Jose*

Jose was on his break. The middle aged Spanish man stood silently in cue as he waited to retrieve his quick lunch. A piece of meat in between two slices of bread. How things have changed. Jose stood at almost six feet tall and with a small frame, a quality that once allowed him to make full use of plate armor. How things have changed.

Jose stepped forward and looked at the person in front of him. The young man wore his subway uniform and looked rather exhausted. They didn't even exchange words, the young boy simply pushed the wrapped meal towards Jose and accepted his money. No change was needed. Indeed, how things have changed.

Jose made his way to the corner of the so called restaurant and began to eat through his cheap meal. His eyes didn't rise when he heard someone call his name. "Jose, I need help", it was a sweet voice, and a familiar one to boot. He continued to eat his meal as the person speaking sat down next to him.
Alice tried to feel comfortable in the plastic chair she sat on but she couldn't find a sweet spot for her to stay in. She continued to move in her chair throughout the conversation while Jose never stopped eating. "I heard the new president is enjoying the oval office", Alice tried to strike a conversation with Jose but he simply nodded in response and continued eating. Alice frowned and stared down at the table covered in napkins.

"You do know that they pay people to clean after you, Jose", Alice spoke in a condescending tone. Jose simply ignored her as he continued to eat, watching as pieces of mustard covered tomatoes fall on top of the napkins. Alice let out an audible sigh. "Jose, I've been hearing things upstairs. I think you will have lots on your hands soon", Alice changed her tone to a more caring one, as if she actually cared for Jose. She didn't. He was just the only one in the area that was Frank or a filthy German, but that will soon change. "I will see you later", Alice ended the conversation and left the table, making her way out of the eatery just in time for Jose to finish his meal.

"Crazy Woman", he spoke with his thick accent, his inability to grasp the English language surprised even Klaus, "We will see".

*The New Guys*

Washington DC. 2012

Industrial district, fringes of the city. Old, run-down apartment blocks federally subsidized to help those less fortunate through their difficult life paint the nearby scenery. The air feels thick, filled to the brim with sawdust and a hint of foul smell coming from the far away chemical plants. This was the other side of Washington DC, a place where politicians rarely went to and were even aware of.

One of these particular buildings housed a strangely vacant apartment which had remained empty for the majority of the year. Someone had been paying the rent on time but not living in the apartment itself, but most importantly – no one had even imagined squatting there. Thanks to the specialty of several individuals the place had been kept empty and rather clean, ready to greet and new residents.

The entrance to the stairway smelled of piss. Going up the stairs one would be advised to avoid touching the walls or the handlebar in fear of catching ailments transmitted by touch. The apartment can be found in the third floor on the left, with a neighboring apartment harboring enthusiastic soccer fans every night on the right. The heavy wooden door seemed to be locked, but no one had dared to open it. It indeed was open, and it led to the apartment itself.

Several pieces of furniture could be spotted from the dark, a couch, a small plastic table and three chairs and a cupboard near the window on the opposite wall to the door. The light switch hid itself to the left of the door, and if one would make his way to the left he would find himself in a crossroads leading to a corridor, from which two bedrooms can be discovered, with a small, pitiful excuse of a bathroom in only one of them. Old bunk-beds were stuffed into the bedrooms, with no other real furniture in sight.

The new residents of this seemingly abandoned apartment are only moments away from entering and meeting each other.

[HecateProxy]

A lone wind howled across the dark sky, the scent of rain still clinging to the star smattered cloak. It wasn’t anger that seemed to pour into each pumping vein, nor was it sorrow for a life that was long lost—no it was a hollow ache that seem too radiate from her very core. A certain dull pain that echoed with each heavy step as the lone woman made her way down the road. Her sister was a shining jewel, bright in her mind that hurt much like a thorn riddled rose. Those last few hours, the simplistic bliss and warmth that enveloped the two sisters, seemed all too quick. Their entire life together was over with a single shot but Mya couldn’t focus on that now. She needed to hurry on her way to the apartment the strange man had told her to be at. She knew the area where it was located; it was once upon a time a frequent spot for wild parties and an easy place to score drugs. She knew the names of the dealers who would lurk in the alley ways and the names of crooked police that were easily bribed with sex and drugs. It was a dark shadow in her past and here she was once again.

It wasn’t hard to miss the thick acrid taste in the air. The low laying smog that seemed to coat the inside of your lungs: snatching away the last bits of precious air and sending you into a coughing fit. Even Mya, whose lungs were coated in more than their fair share of tar, wheezed resentfully at the pungent smell. It was a cold, long walk from her cozy home on the out skirts of town. Minutes dripped by quickly, knocking down her time to make it; more than once she thought to flag a taxi but to what avail? She had no money on her. Nothing to exchange for a comfy ride to her new life. No, it’d take her over and hour but she’d get there in time. The latter wasn’t an option anymore. Back in the darkness, back where life and thought were rendered without meaning where her sister was nothing but a dull glow in the furthest crook in her mind. Plus, as time pushed on something blossomed in the root of her leaden heart; a searing thought that whispered quietly in the back of her mind. Vengeance. That man, even such an innocent word carried a taint, had taken her life. Taken everything she was working for and for what? A couple of hundred from a local restaurant? Her life was snuffed in the name of greed and she would in return take his in her own name. She was ghost, an invisible entity who had made a pack with the devil for new life. Mya would not spare this second chance. May whatever God that watched over the human race turn his eyes for this for it would be neither quick nor painless.

Before her stood the building which she was told to go to. It looked run down, dirty and broken; much like the lives of those who lived in it and around it. She had passed a few drunks, collapsed on the sidewalk, their stench threating to upturn the contents of her stomach and suddenly Mya regretted eating so much before she left. She was also glad that she decided to choose her leggings and short plaid skirt instead a long lacy dress that she tended to favor. Delicate chains chimed with each sway as the streets echoed with late night television and distant fights. The door swung open easily and out with it rolled a foul stench of old and new urine. Bile pooled in the back of her throat as Mya tried to choke back the acidic fluid. ‘Why would I be sent here?’ Worried riddled her limbs and shakily she began to ascend the staircase. Everything, the walls included, seemed to be covered in some sort of yellow film or dark vile gunk. The rubber soles of her boots pulled away from the floor with an audible squish as whatever coated the area seemed to want to bind the two together. It wasn’t hard to find the large doors that lead into the apartment. Steeling her crackling nerves, Mya tentatively opened the door pleased that a fresher smell drifted up to greet her. The lights above hummed in the silence as she swung the door shut behind her. It seemed empty, well more than empty, bare furniture was scattered about accordingly. It seemed rather clean in here, the floor waxed and the counters clear of any dust yet no one seemed to be home. Biting on her lower lip, a habit she formed when younger, Mya explored the place wondering what was to come next.

[Erranruin]

The seat of the cab was saturated with the stench of cigarette smoke and other more illegal smog. The fabric felt rough and slightly sticky to the touch as Edwards fingers feverishly kneaded it on this longest of journeys. In this relative quiet and calm his mind hand time to catch up with itself and work through the events that had unfolded. He had been dead, there was no question. The bullet had exploded into his back and he even remembered shuddering as his breath was stolen away on the cold, had floor. His fingertips had felt the failing heat of the blood that pooled around him. He felt his chest to see if the bullet was still lodged in the Intercostal Muscles between his third and fourth ribs.

Nothing was there, obviously, but the spot was tender and he felt vulnerable all of a sudden. His mind had blocked the Cab driver's inane babble up to that point but suddenly his coarse voice broke into the silence of his mind. Something about the fares going up because of the inflation of fuel prices. This was moderately dull but Edward engaged in the conversation, sympathising with the man's troubles and slowly and almost unconsciously getting him to tell Edward more of his life. He was married, but the marriage was on shaky legs. Edward began by asking simple questions, then more elaborate ones and finally started giving him advice.

By the time they got into the rundown and grey looking neighbourhood the Cab Driver was feeling considerably better about his life and Edward had found a distraction from the madness of his current situation. However as they turned down the burnt and cluttered street to see the cracked building where his fate awaited him, it all came flooding back. For a moment his breathing hitched and an imaginary bullet squirmed in his chest. But soon he had pulled himself together once more.

The cab driver parked just on the sidewalk and let him out, questioning him once on 'why he would want to go to a godforsaken place like this' but letting it go when Edward barely registered his voice. The screeching tires echoed Edward's arrival to the place of his doom and strangely he found the sound fitting. His feet felt as heavy as iron as he pulled them up the grimy steps. A quick look at his watch told him he was just in time.

He knocked, the rusty brown paint peeling and flaking away as his knuckle made tiny rapping vibrations across the rotting wood. He stood in the cold winds and awaited... what? Very suddenly he realised he looked very stupid, who would come? The door was open, he should just walk in, which he did.

The rusted hinges creaked in ways that set his teeth on edge and the rest of the building didn't help much. He looked towards the stairs and flinched away from the diseased steps. Did he want to kill himself after just being revived? Nothing for it. He almost threw himself up the stairs, wanting to be rid of the stairwell's miasma of illness and decay. The liquid on his feet was questionable at best and he ran the rest of the way. He came to the door and after giving his previous destination a look of barely concealed terror he turned the handle.

After the muck of the outside the inside cleanliness was one of the most welcome things Edward had known for a while. The carpet was dull but pristinely dull and as he walked in he noticed medium looking armchairs and sofa's.

Suddenly he heard a noise and turning he found a young but morose looking girl. He smiled calmly at her, an instinctive response, and awaited her to speak.

[wXw]

Consuelo's high heels tapped on the pavement with regular rhythm. She could walk for miles in those shoes and never feel an itch of pain. She could even run, like a pro, and keep her ankles intact, her perfectly smooth ankles intact. Tightly holding herself together in the unpleasant feeling of a dark gloomy neighborhood, Consuelo's face was contracted, with barely open eyes and a nervous nose, inhaling as little as possible of the stinging stench that pervaded the street.

"Madre de Tio, madre de tio.." she whispered to herself, as a variation of the more common invocation of the Lord. An ex-believer, Consuelo turned to her personal set of swearing and summonings, many of which she pronounced before reaching the scraped entrance of her new home. Thin bony cats meowed angrily at her fur-coat, from which her generous bosom palpitated with apprehension. One rape a day, she thought, is enough.

With a sigh she pushed the main door open and flung herself in the unhealthy miasma that haunted the common area of the building. She almost screamed in terror at the sight of dark stains on the walls, hopefully just the marks of those that lacked a better toilet in the moment of need. All her time Consuelo had worked hard to achieve the best possible life she could afford: how unfair that she had been resurrected to start everything all over again!

Step by step, she walked up from the stinking hell until the designated door. It was too much. She turned her heels and walked down, careful not to tough the greasy handrail once. She walked through the pee-hole that served as a hall, and outside again, in the stinging fog of the dead cat-infested neighborhood. Not a soul was visible, nor a car, not even a sound, except for the random screeching of rusty metal and the angry meowing of cats.

Defeated, without any other place to go and tired from the one too many adventures of the day, Consuelo returned to the door and pushed it open. "Cabron tomato postillo!" Her jaw dropped in terrified stupor when white faces of perfect strangers looked at her from within. She should have knocked before trying the door, and now she regretted not having done so. "Hola honey! I am sorry I did not know this place was busy. I'll be leaving. Love. Bye." and she rushed back into the corridor.

[PainlessSorrow]

Would it matter where he was going? Elies had not thought it would matter in the least where he went; but this backwash area seemed to make him feel a little hesitant about those thoughts. It reeked of everything that could possibly disgust a human-most namely all the lazy asses who sat around doing nothing but drinking and waiting for the next beautiful creature to walk by. It felt like the set-up of every murder scene from crime shows. An expression of severe displeasure crossed his face as he examined the building that he was now supposed to stay in; another place for severe mugging. This was still not the worst place he could’ve ended up in though.

He entered into a piss covered hallway that made his stomach a little uneasy; again an example why humans are nothing but filthy pieces of this earth that should not exist. His face wrinkled at the liquid covered floor along; the smell was sickening. So selfish of humans, make a building and then let it fall into a terrible wreck, let it become another thing that was wasted. He darted the stairs as quickly as he could, repulsed by his surrounding, did they even realize how unhealthy this would be? He turned to face the doorway, there it was, the place he would be staying. The door was open, a woman running out of it in terrible fright, this was not surprising most women would not be horrified here-most people for that manner, but he was more disappointed that there was a woman here.

He gave her a quick displeased look before stepping aside so she could get by; he had no business stopping her. He approached the door while studying the downgraded room; again what sort of mafia place was this? He frowned two people were in the room, people. Walking through the open door he gave a quick scoff of disapproval before walking to stand near one of the no-doubt-mold-infected walls.

He gave himself a moment to examine them. One was a younger girl with very nice looking skin and raven hair; the other was an older man who had a pleasant air about him. At least neither seemed to be extremely annoying aside from that they were human. “Who are you?” He asked bluntly on curious because they happened to be in the same place as he, and this didn’t seem like the sort of place you would just end up in.

[HecateProxy]

The place proved to be nothing more than exactly what it seemed, a well maintained empty space in the center of a God forsaken city. Nothing was of any real interest and after a few minutes of tedious searching Mya ended up settling down into a worn looking couch. The static hum from the lights above seemed to bellow in her ears, a feeling of dread creeping into her very core as she awaited her fate. Why had she been given this chance? What could the strange man want with her and how had he been able to pull her out of which was supposed to be a permanent ending? So many unanswered questions that rolled across her feverish brain and nothing to distract her from the weight that seemed to suddenly drop upon her shoulders. ‘Hell of a day…’ Letting out a pitiful chuckle she tucked her legs beneath her. Now was the hardest part; waiting. Who knows how long she’d have to wait here; hours? Days? Weeks? Just sitting there seemed like an eternity within itself. She listened to the cries somewhere close by; a woman’s distressed wailing that breeched the walls and a muffled man’s angry yells. Listened to cars roar down the streets and a few angry honks as road rage pumped through the driver. This was a hell of a place but in a way it was almost befitting; where else would a being who had cheated death go to?

The door hinges cried as they swung open; Mya leaping from her place on the couch, heart pounding in her ears, as she locked onto the figure of a man. Was it him? No, no…this was a different man. An older gentleman who strolled casually in; it seems he didn’t quite see her just yet and Mya took the extra time to still her quivering limbs. A small look of curiosity and surprise seemed to play out on his features when the two made eye contact; a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his weathered lips. It was a terrible time to be at a loss for words but there she was; looking much like a deer caught in headlights as moments trickled past. Could he in league with the strange man? Instantly she wished she would of taken the Taser Luna offered her before she left but Mya didn’t think she’d need it. She knew the area and figured that would be enough to keep her safe; she didn’t really stop to fathom what would happen if the place hosted another. Flashing a small smile back in greeting; she cleared her throat.

“Hello…..”

‘Shit.’ Her voice had broken at the end; her nerves now unmistakable but she’d play it off anyway. Straightening her posture she eyed him with those twin orbs; a wash of light amidst the sea of white and black. “Who are you?” This time her voice came out as it should of in the first place; full of youth and with a hint of brimstone as a warning. She would make it seem like she belonged right where she stood and that meeting him was no big deal. It didn’t help that she seemed to leap five feet into the air when the doors bust open once again; this time a rather lavishly dressed woman poked her head in. Eyes, like saucers, open in surprise and possible fear.

"Hola honey! I am sorry I did not know this place was busy. I'll be leaving. Love. Bye."

The woman blurted out as she turned on her heels and booked it back into the hallway. Mya, stunned, just stared openly at the shut door. Her mouth open in a little surprised ‘o’ before glancing back at the older man. With a shaky chuckle she flashed him a smile, “Well that was…unexpected.” Actually, Mya was trying to fight off a burst of laughter that plucked at her cool features. The tension that was heavy in the air seemed to almost evaporate at the comical reaction of the strange woman. Mya pondered on going out to look for her when the door opened once more. ‘Dear God…’ How many people where going to enter here? She had seen the multiple bunks in the place but still. This time it was another man, younger than the first but more put together than the woman who had rushed out. In fact, he didn’t seem to care where he was at all.

“Who are you?”

Even his tone was casual, like this was nothing new to him at all and for some reason it bristled Mya. Narrowing her eyes into little slits, she folded her arms across her chest, “The question is, who are you?” She was being defensive, yes but who could blame her. Everything was just too bizarre and right now she could use a nice strong drink.

[DotCom]

Our Father, who art in heaven
Hallowed be Thy name

Several years ago, when her inside voice had been just that--a nameless, faceless voice inside guiding her down more...direct paths--before the daily injections sought to quiet the voice, Lacy asked her mother about the stars.

Why, she'd asked, can't we see as many stars as God does?

She knew the stars numbered many and more, just as she knew her Father in heaven had once granted as many children to Abraham thousands of years prior. And she knew those same children still roamed the earth, having wandered far from the Lord their God. She knew, even then, it was her job to bring them back into the fold.

Then, her mother had hugged her close and answered, "No man--or little girl--can know what God sees, Lace. Not on earth, but maybe in heaven."

In truth, the light from the stars had been obscured by the light from the streets of Lacy's childhood home in a suburb outside of DC. But to the toddling holy roller, it made no difference. As far as she was concerned, the sins of man were all the stood between her and God's perfection.

And now history repeats, she thought sagely, gazing up the side of the building she was meant to enter. To her left, a dying streetlight lamps buzzed loudly, alternately throwing white and orange lights on the dingy sidewalk.

Lacy squinted up at the blue-black sheet of sky overhead and counted just four stars. A sign, she knew, as once again, the sins of man kept her from her rightful place in heaven. But at least now she understood why He'd sent her back. The man He'd appointed to bring her back had sent her here, to this room, to receive her mission.

She was free, now, from the restrictive imperfection of man. She, like the Son of God, had died and risen again, and she, like God himself, would deliver justice until He saw fit to bring her home.

The four stars overhead twinkled like eyes shining in pleasure. Lacy pushed open the door and stepped inside.

***

Lacy reached the designated room just in time to run headlong into an older, and somewhat garishly dressed woman.

"Oh!" Lacy said in perfectly innocent surprise. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

She smiled brightly and stuck out a hand. "My name is Lacy. Are you supposed to be meeting here, too? Do you know what's going on?"

As her eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of the hall, she studied the woman and slowly withdrew her hand. There was something, Lacy decided, off about her, though she couldn't decide just what.

She felt a shiver race up her spine; her eyes narrowed, and her voice lost the sweetness from the moment before.

"What are you?"

Thy will be done
On earth, as it is in heaven

[wXw]

A soul stood in the corridor, by the name Consuelo, wondering and fearing that her visit, which proved to be too quick, might have not only been a cause of distress for the few occupants of the rundown place, but also seen as a lack of politeness toward the general feeling of those supreme powers that, upon their greatest mercy, allowed her to stand, breathe and sense, with the full powers of her spirit, as if death never occurred. Stuck with the crawling sensation that her first pass had been too quick for a lady of her caliber and aspirations, she gave herself a second chance; and there again she faced the door with a twist of her perfectly smooth ankle, enlaced with the Italian leather strap that many modern shoes use to attach the lower part of the shoe, commonly called sole, although, in most cases, it should be considered to be the shoe itself. Her big left toe, forged straight, yet shorter than her second toe by a caprice of nature, faced the consumed bottom of the mysterious door, covered in two cheap layers of opaque red polish. Such consumed bottom, which to many unexperienced eyes might have looked as a natural worn of a common front door, revealed instead the marvel hulking of one of the floor's planks, slowly rising from the averagely flat surface of the corridor, sign of an unusual dampness that pervaded not just the streets outside, but rather originated from the building itself.

Consuelo timidly placed her five fingers on the door knob and stood, immobile, frozen in hesitation. She could clearly recall a shadow passing by only a few moments earlier; it was a vision caught with the back of her eye, which she rather ignored, as her thoughts of disturbance and politeness filled her troubled post-mortem mind. There was warmth coming from the handle, shaped in a style that had become uncommon in recent years, but flourished only a decade earlier, when simple lines and industrial simplicity ruled the scene. It was a mere tube of brass that had once been polished and by the time Consuelo touched it, showed the passing of many hands as a thin opaque patina slowly conquering the glorious glossy finish of its early days. The four rusty screws that held it to the solid woodframe of the door bent slightly, although imperceptibly, under Consuelo's pressure as she motioned the handle down in order to force the frame open again. Her left foot gave a tap by the contact of a fake Italian heel upon the buffed wooden plank, rising in the damp air of the building. There was a hollow sound in it, a kind of sound that reminded Consuelo of hidden treasures hidden under the floor in many a haunted house.

That flat, which she was about to enter for the second time, was indeed haunted. In the least, it was haunted by her, a lost soul, whom death denied a worthless departure on her due time. Whether the ticking clock stopped for her, or whether the greater powers that decided the destiny of man had forecast that too, Consuelo would not know. As much as the flat was a reality, and in it damp, screeching, consumed entirety it was, also her being alive after her very last, nonetheless unfortunate, breath was a reality too, and, truth bespoken, a reality worth taking advantage of for the time to be. Pretty Consuelo let her five finger depart from the handle and with one single step crossed again the squared frame that so clearly, and eerily, marked the very boundary of her new home. With a shiver of uneasiness, the same she felt in the moment of death, she frowned under her painted face, her lips bent in a smile that drew less than half of a Moon of red lips throughout her cheeks, and with the sound of warm honey she introduced her best self to the figure that, unsuspectingly stumbled upon her.

"Good-evening, I am Consuelo. I think I am expected." she shook the thin hand of the girl offering it with an unusual understanding of circumstances. Consuelo did not ask, nor she wanted to know, nor, in truth, she needed to know, for the powers that set the world in motion are the same that decide on those random encounters, and to raise a doubt of their possible fallacy would shake the very fundaments of nature. The thin woman was pretty, pleasant and young, so terribly young that a rose might have grown only till the hip if planted the very same day when this gem was born. "I am Consuelo." she repeated with a more pleasant tone, perhaps a bit too pleasant for the occasion. "Hairdresser." she added, perking her lips in a confused look. Her finger went up to her marvelous mane, grabbing hold of an open lock and twisting it around her finger, in the same way in which the snake of temptation must have seduced Eve on their first night. "You know? Hair?"

[Erranruin]

It seemed as though the time had been set for everyone. An eclectic range of people poured in and sometimes out of Edward's view and all of them had the same desperate air that he himself must be exuding. The girl had veritably jumped when he had appeared and her quavering 'hello' had triggered Edward's basest fathering instincts. She was definitely fragile at that moment but she seemed not unused to the possibility of conflict or injury, her responses learned and controlled quickly. Her next words were considerably calmer yet now her hackles were raised and Edwards mind flashed through a couple of similar personalities he had met before settling for the best approach to her.

"Hello, I'm Edwar-" suddenly the door burst open and a vibrant wave of person flew into the room. The dullness clashed awfully with her passionate appearance and Edward was momentarily stunned by the surprise of her entry before she quickly stopped and, with some wild words, flew once again from the apartment. Edward started chuckling first, his suspension of surprise significantly shorter. He nodded at her description of the event. "It certainly was." He smiled along with her, happy that her previous aggression seemed to have taken a back seat for the moment. "Now, as I was saying, my name is Edwa-".

And low and behold another oddity came in. Burst was certainly not an adjective that could be used to describe the entrance of this man. He stepped quietly but his footsteps seemed heavy to Edward and a little psychologist bell rang somewhere in his subconscious, an alarm of a man on the brink. He wasn't worried and if truth be told he was trying to stop his raging empathetic tendancies, but the man was young and Edward felt himself wanting to help. He quashed it for the moment.

The girl bared her metaphorical teeth once again and Edward cut in before the lad could answer her.

"As I have been trying to say, my name is Edward." He gave a warmly placid smile before continuing.

"Now I assume we have all been called here in the same state of confusion. I myself am still trying to work through the fact that I was dead a few hours ago."

He might as well through himself in at the deep end, if he was wrong and they thought he was mad... well, it didn't really matter, he just wanted to breathe longer.

[HecateProxy]

"As I have been trying to say, my name is Edward." He gave a warmly placid smile before continuing.

"Now I assume we have all been called here in the same state of confusion. I myself am still trying to work through the fact that I was dead a few hours ago.”

Mya bit back her anger and turned towards the older gentleman, “Edward huh, I’m Mya.” She cast her gaze to the ground, observing the thick rubber soles of her combat boots. She was back to feeling a little worse for the wear but took some comfort that it seemed she wasn’t the only one in the same boat. A little sigh fluttered past her lip, her fingers picking at the other in an old school girl fashion; “Yeah, I know that feeling… one minute you are dead and another you’re thrust back into this world.” Looking up at the man with bit of sheepish demeanor, she knew she sounded mad but hey he was the one who brought it up. It was surely not something that happened often and here they were; three people who had cheated death though the other kid still seemed to chew on a raw nerve. Outside Mya could hear faint voices; two females by the sound of it and one possibly being the strange colorful woman who had rushed out earlier. Time was wearing down and if that was the case she would need to come inside soon. Looking at the two men there was no distinctive connection to each other nor to her; she didn’t recognize them from her life before so what would be the connection? What would be the reason to gather them from death and bring them here? What could they have to offer? The questions rushed forward, each scrambling over one another seeking an answer yet she held her tongue. These men couldn’t help her. No, they’d have to wait longer to get the answers. The awkwardness of idly standing by began to get to her and Mya began to shift her weight from one foot to the other. Swaying softly on her feet to give her something to do: her eyes flitting from one face to the other and back.

“So, how’d it happen? You know…your death I mean.” She was genuinely curious; perhaps the connection was with how the way each of their lives had been snuffed out. Plus, if the rooms where an indicator of anything they would be staying around each other for a bit longer so they might as well get to know one another. ‘Heh, maybe we are after the same thing…’ A little group hell bent on killing a single putrid soul. Her mind flashed little play images of him begging for forgiveness from the trio; his words falling on deaf ears like hers did on his. The thought brought a ghost of a smile to her lips though sharing his death with these two would be bitter sweet. No, she’d keep her thoughts to herself if that was the case. The gentleman was older he had lived most of his life; the other…well Mya just wasn’t fond of him already.