Fenton Kelly was trying to let the night drift by him peacefully, he was listening to his jazz music while sipping bourbon and his favorite brand of cigar black samurai.

But none of this was enough, the simple fact was, he was bored. Back home in Neo-City he would have drug dealers to bust or pimps to beat up. But here in the capital of shine county, crime was basically non-existent. So he would camp out near his office phone and get drunk almost every night. He didn't even bother ordering escorts, it lost its novelty the first week he arrived. He kicked his feet up at his desk and stared at the ceiling unnerved by the quietness of the street. There was no screams, no police sirens, just calm music, laughter and the hum of electronic cars. He was finding himself too bored to even think, so he pulled out his dictaphone and spoke for his audio diary.

Kelly's Journal, Day 26. I'm spending another day at the office without any work whatsoever....Well that's not entirely true. I was called by the Shine City Asylum two days ago. They said one of their patients went missing...a young man Nicholas Dale Weston, 20 years old. But I don't have any leads, and the case doesn't interest me enough for me to start chasing it.....

Fenton took another sip of his classic 1889 Daniel Raymond Bourbon and rested his nearly empty bottle on the windowsill. He took a short drag of his cigar and blew smoke towards his painfully slow ceiling fan.

I miss Neo City already, I miss the pain, the struggle, the danger. I'm the most feared and hated ex-cop in that city, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Having criminals trying to kill me everyday makes me feel....important. God that sounds seriously fucked up doesn't it? Maybe I need to find someone.....or maybe that'll complicate things further......almost out of bourbon I'm going to the Cornerstone for the 3rd time this week in a row. I'ts harder and harder to keep myself to tell myself I'm not an alcoholic. Oh well, I can hate myself when I'm dead...entry end.

Fenton threw on his long trench coat and grabbed his keys and wallet, he didn't even bother taking his Magnum Revolver, he was probably the only person in this entire city with a gun, which made him feel like even more of a stranger. At least the cornerstone was dark and played good music.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________



Fenton pulled up a stool at the bar when her arrived, as always he made no eye contact with the locals just sat down and looked straight ahead at the barkeeper.

Half a glass of Red-Oak Whiskey on the rocks, keeper. I'm gonna be here for a while.....

Today, truly, it was a beautiful day. Nat could even venture as far as saying it was sublime, as a warm wind shook her hair and the flowers she had woven in. The sky was a blue like no other, with nary a cloud to be seen save for a few wispy wanderers making their way across the firmament. Blades of grass, with flowers woven into them like her own hair, danced in the empty field in front of her. Her rear was sore from sitting on the hard, trampled dirt of the path, but she didn’t mind for a moment as she stroked a particularly long bang of hair, smiling as the smell of the earth, the flowers and the scent of a roasted chicken mingled in the air like close friends. The occasional crinkling sound from the paper bag next to her being agitated by the breeze didn’t bother the woman in the slightest. Amid the constant birdsong, her ears carefully listened for the rare distant roars, cries and bellowing of far away beasts, until, her eyes closed, a new sound came along, footsteps. The footfalls were heavy, belonging to strong legs in sturdy boots and she knew in an instant who it was, but she decided to keep her eyes closed, instead waiting for the character to come closer.

“Nat, dun act like ya dunno I’m ‘ere.” A voice with a thick accent that easily replaced all music for her spoke up and she grinned. “Ya won the race this time, but I had more ta carry! A chicken is easy, try a bag a’ grain!” The ground trembled ever so slightly as a hefty sack landed next to her.

“Excuses, as always! Have you maybe thought of just being better?” Nat jeered, patting the sack. “If I find a single ounce of grain missing because you just vented on it, you’re running back to town to get more, darling.” Nat stood, picking up the sack and she almost sighed in disappointment when she didn’t find a single puncture. “Aren’t you lucky? They make these bags sooooo tough...” She winked before tossing the bag back to him.

“If I’m lucky, it’s ta ‘ave the most amazing wife, ha!” Her husband had a hearty laugh as she sauntered over to the man and gave him a kiss on the cheek, hair getting between her lips.

“And to have a wife who tolerates you constantly ‘forgetting’ to shave? It’s as if you stopped caring after we married, how sad...” Nat play pouted and her beloved responded by bring her into his arms, dropping the grain. “What I said about you going back to town if grain is missing still stands, you know~” she scolded him before he placed a thick finger on her lips and quieted her.

“Ya know, moments like these almost make the time ya used me as bait for a wyvern worth it.” The tall, yet fairly slim man was clearly amused, long used to her banter. After all, tonight would make six years of them being married. Nat looked less amused, but this sort of exchange was, as aforementioned, common between them.

“You’re just not satisfied with poor Nat anymore, are you… two children and now you let everything go… Ah...” The wife made herself look as sad as possible, but it was hard to hide her smirk. This kind of moment had become her favorite. Her beloved grinned and stroked her hair.

“I’m more satisfied than any other man in the Land a’ Fenoglio! In more ways than one...” he whispered at the end as he grabbed her rear. Nat jumped, then settled down into his chest, mumbling sweet nothings that he could hardly hear. “But let’s get goin’ home, Drew an’ Alan are probably gettin’ hungry, eh?” He removed his hand and gently let go of her with a sincere smile that Nat happily returned. Picking up the grain and laying the bag carrying the roasted chicken in it, as per the bet for the race, he grunted before slowly beginning to walk.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

An alien noise froze Nat, literally. Stuck with a warm smile on her face, she was unmoving as if petrified, and she couldn’t move a muscle in her body. Her skin was still warmed by the breeze and sun, but no matter how much she struggled, she couldn’t move, not even breathe.



She wanted to scream, but it was if she suddenly had no lungs or mouth. Everything was moving save for her, her adored husband was walking away from her, slowly as if still waiting for her to come to his side. Once, she had been at this side as he walked this path, after this exact exchange, but now, Nat was drowning without a drop of water, frozen in the air, as the feeling of the embrace faded away.



The footsteps were gone now, everything was gone, silent, save for the shrill sounds attacking her ears. Her chest felt like it was going to split in two and dots flitted around her vision, growing larger and larger. Not even her own thoughts made sense anymore, a melee of inner screams, sadness and despair.



Everything was dark now, she couldn’t feel a thing save for the pain. There was no fifth set of beeps.

At that moment, Natille awoke in her bed, thrashing around and actually screaming from pain and sorrow. With a loud yell of anger, she jumped out of bed, fell to the ground and after a groan, she scrambled for the alarm clock, a red, bright “6:00” lit up on the front, and tore it away from side table, causing the lamp to fall as well. Ignoring this, she punched the clock over and over, her knuckles bleeding and covering the clock in blood and tiny bits of skin as she pummeled the device, the plastic cracking and breaking until there was little more than shards of plastic and a main board and screen. Meanwhile, she cried out at the victim and perpetrator, demanding why it took her life away, why the world made her die, why it was all gone for good and dozens of other questions in the span of seconds. These were questions she often asked the world, not really expecting an answer but rather expressing her torment and disappointment with reality. A quiet “beeeeeeeee-” droned out of the single speaker. Without a single moment’s hesitation, Nat picked up the largest part of the clock, opened her window and tossed it out, hurtling out of the extremely high window onto the grass of an empty park. Upon impact it finally tore apart, the remaining united components fleeing in different directions. Natille stared out the window at her enemy.

Finally, she took a deep breath and slumped down against the wall, next to the lamp she knocked over. The bulb was broken, adding to the mess of shards on the floor of her room. Nat stroked the lampshade as the blur of rage left her eyes and blood trickled down her fingers onto the lampshade, which miraculously soaked up most of the crimson liquid before it stained the wooden floor. A slight aching on her arm reminded her that the nicotine patch she wore to have more vivid, but unfortunately oftentimes more violent dreams, was still stuck to her arm. Removing her stinging, burning hand from the red and brown lampshade, which had originally been of a black and white checkerboard design, she tore off the patch and stuffed it in the pocket of her nightwear. Nat took a deep breath before standing up to leave her bedroom.
First, she put a copious amount of alcohol and bandages on her self-inflicted wounds, then, now in the kitchen, she filled a glass and put a copious amount of alcohol in it, coming from a random bottle of whiskey she picked without paying much attention to. Nat downed it in a few gulps, the liquid burning her throat but calming her down somewhat. For a few minutes, she set about cleaning up her room, starting with the shards of glass, then the shards of plastic, then replacing her lamp with a stack of artbooks she had bought on a whim.

“Sirilla, turn on.” Nat muttered a flat line as she walked into her large living room and slumped down on the couch. A chime indicated her speaker system and “personal assistant” turned on, though she always considered the latter more of a way of controlling her phone with her voice rather than touch. A typical ‘good morning, Nat’ was her response as she took her phone off of the wireless charger anyway. The young woman didn’t bother for a moment with turning on the TV, instead she just tapped a widget on her phone’s home screen and the lights came on. “Cirilla, please play something by The National.”

“Playing About Today by the National.” An artificial voice responded to her demand and the song began playing out of the speakers as the Nat finished her breakfast bar and stared out the window. Lazily, she reached for the box of cigarillos on the coffee table and pulled one of the wrapped sticks of tobacco out, itself wrapped in some plastic. She took a moment to unwrap it and prepare it to be used as the music only dampened her mood with its somber lyrics which hit a little too close to home. Lighting the other end of the cigarillo, she put the music aside to think of what Rese might think of her smoking. She had never smoked in Soma, but had he been here today, what would he say?

“Honestly, dat can’t be good fer ya. Why spend on it, Nat?” she whispered to herself, imitating his accent.

“I’m a rich writer deemed delusional by most of the people who ‘care’ for me, what else do I spend money on in this useless world, darling?” was her response to herself a few puffs later, a wry smile appearing on her face for a fleeting moment as the song ended and she reached the halfway point on the cigarillo. “Sirilla, could you have not chosen a sadder song?” she complained

“A Sadder Song is not currently in your library, would you like to buy this track?” Nat was noticeably annoyed by the innocently programmed response.

“Fuck you. Why am I awake anyway so early? What are my appointments today?” She put the cigarillo out in the ashtray before crudely wrapping it in the plastic wrap again. Her “personal assistant” took no delay in responding.

“You have a meeting at eight-thirty AM with your publisher, a meeting at eleven-thirty AM with Dr. Templeton for a routine appointment and lunch with your father at one PM.” Sirilla read off the reminders that Nat had set without problems. At least she does that right, she thought to herself and rolled her eyes.

“Busy day and I look like I joined a fight club.” Nat sighed while looking at the bandages on her hand and glanced at her desk with the monitor, keyboard and mouse sat on it. All the desks in her house were connected to one large computer in her actual office; she just found it more practical to work anywhere she wanted in the house without needing to use a laptop. Today, she would have preferred by far to write, but appointments were appointments. The deadline for the next volume of what she saw as her autobiography wasn’t for another month anyway and she could easily finish it in a good week of just writing, since she already knew what she had to write, the question was doing it and adding a narrative touch. There was a certain joy she took in writing, she was accomplishing her life’s purpose after all, making the life she had really lived and loved tangible for everyone who might ever doubt her. Of course, as far as her fans knew, it was totally fiction and good fiction at that, as made evident by the sales of each book. Her substantial royalties gave her a life without many difficulties, she never had to worry about paying bills, her penthouse apartment which offered her the freedom of the morning’s loud wake-up was paid for and belonged to her, as was her car, food wasn’t a worry, drinks of all descriptions either, and she even had enough to pay her psychologist.

However, that last note reminded Nat that she didn’t have the luxury of taking all the time she wanted, at least not this morning, and she hurried to get herself cleaned up and dressed.

Today’s meeting reminded Nat of how much she hated meetings with her publisher. As one of the most important authors with the company, she wasn’t given the casual treatment she received before when she first gave the drafts of her book to the company, now she had to sit in a stuffy meeting room for three hours as she answered questions, talked about new deals such as a manga adaptation and listened to the company’s employees rant on about their thoughts on recent themes in the books and how to advertise the series and making translations into other languages and localization for countries where certain parts of the story would have to be modified (an idea which Nat rejected at every proposal), Nat meanwhile stared out the window and sighed as new appointments were made with all sorts of people. Finally, a reminder for the next volume’s deadline was given and she was out the door.

Only minutes later, she was in front of her psychologist’s apartment-slash-office. It was a quick trip. Even if it took her halfway across the city, her Audi R8’s V10 Plus made short work of the journey. Loud work, too, which was something Dr. Bridge Templeton always took advantage of in order to be at the door as soon as his patient arrived. Sure enough, Nat had barely knocked when a bespectacled man opened the door with an alcohol test in hand. “Good morning, Natalia!”

Nat sighed loudly, attempting to make a point out of her lack of amusement. “It’s Nat, you know that, Bridge. Don’t talk like my grandmother. What’s with the tester?” The doctor put it up to Nat’s lips without answering and she blew without an answer. Here comes the lecture...

“You really shouldn’t be driving with that much in your system and definitely not a vehicle like that! I-” Bridge scolded her as he read the measurement on the tester. Nat shrugged and pushed past him to hang her jacket and remove her shoes, walking into his living room and sitting down on the sofa without waiting for his permission. A “make yourself at home” would be redundant anyway, Bridge’s abode was practically a second home for her, she had slept on his couch on various occasions. Bridge was a bit slower than her at returning, taking his time to put her shoes out of the way after she left them in the middle of the entry. “How’s my favorite crazy today?”

“I pay you the most and the most consistently, of course I’m your favorite.” Nat got off the couch and went to make coffee with the capsule coffee machine, as Bridge meanwhile gathered up various papers, then settled down in his “shrink chair”, Nat’s name for his old leather seat that was his throne at every appointment. Nat knew this just from the sound, a creak resounding throughout the small apartment living room and kitchen. It always made the girl wonder why in the world he lived in such a small place if he earned so much as a psychologist with a full doctorate. Sure, the area was quiet, but even in her own penthouse she often felt cramped. It was a question that went unanswered to this day.

“You wound me! I’m such a fan of your personality, with how cold, apathetic, pseudo-sociopathic you can be! You really do make for such a wonderful conversation partner!” He replied in a near yell as steaming coffee poured into a mug in the kitchen, Nat straining somewhat to hear him anyway over the sound of the coffee machine.

“I’ve never paid a conversation partner before.” she retorted flatly as she took Bridge’s mug away to fill another, which was her chosen mug when at Bridge’s place, decorated with the text “Department of Redundancy Department” in black letters. In the meantime, she brought the psychologist’s mug over to him.

“Call it royalties since I was the one who told you to start publishing your dream autobiographies.” Bridge chuckled and Nat shot him a glare. She hated it when she called anything involving her old life a “dream”. Still, “dream” was better than “delusion”, so she tolerated it. “Had a rough morning?” This question was accompanied by a tap on her bandaged hand.

Nat shrugged and replied with a tone dripping in sarcasm. “My alarm clock picked a fight with me.”

“By that you mean you dreamed of your dream life --my, I feel like I’m repeating myself –, the alarm clock ruined it and you had an incident?” Dr. Templeton put on a much more serious tone, adjusting his glasses and reaching for the coffee. At this point, Nat’s own beverage was ready, with it in hand, she returned to the sofa, took a deep breath and replied.

“Is mindreading something you learned to get your doctorate? It was a dream with Rese, our sixth wedding anniversary-”

“Stop right there, don’t say a thing! I haven’t read that far, you’ll spoil it!” Bridge joked and waved the latest volume at Nat, which managed to make the patient smirk for a moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted an entire shelf filled with her books.

“If you’re such a big fan, you’d know I haven’t even written that yet.” She took a sip of the coffee and almost wished she had put a few drops of calvados in it, though she knew the psychologist didn’t stock French liquor. Capsule coffee always felt blandly bitter to her.

“I’m not that big a fan, it’s just that you’re my patient and all...” Bridge winked, then cleared his throat. “Jokes aside, how realistic was the dream?” Finally, the doctor took a pen out of his pocket and set about taking notes. Nat thought hard about it, but in the end, it came down less to finding similarities between this dream and her memories and more finding differences. There were none, save for the end.

“No differences. It was as if I was playing back a movie.”

“How did you act?”

“Same as always with Rese. Loving, playful, lots of banter.” Her general mood, previously lightened by the exchange before was now much more cheerless. Dreams like that were bliss and torture at the same time. It all ended too early and everything was gone. The only thing left were the memories and as far as everyone in the entire world was concerned, it never happened and never existed. Rese, Drew, Alan, the friends she had made, all of it disappeared. Replaying it all often made her feel alive again, but it always came to an end. Often violently. “I froze at the end. Not temperature, you know, just not moving. I could only feel, no longer act and I suffocated.” Bridge nodded in a way that always seemed awfully psychologist-esque to Nat. He was, after all, an actual shrink.

“Dreams of freezing often represent an inability to take action or progress…” he began.

“Well, ain’t that the truth! I can’t do shit anymore, I’m stuck in this world, and all of Soma is gone, forever! No one even believes it happened! I remember it all, every year… All twenty and even that wasn’t enough.” After the outburst, Nat’s hand shook as she held her mug. Of course, Bridge had heard this from her dozens of times.

“Let’s change subjects. This isn’t the first time you’ve had a dream like this after all.” He spoke kindly, sensing the change in atmosphere. “Let’s talk about your books lately. Your latest has had some interesting themes, actually. The story itself is the same as always – and that’s a good thing, mind you, you’ve kept it very interesting since the first volume – but the narrator and the narration itself have gotten quite existential in tone, no?” Nat stared at him for a moment, then replied, looking at the TV, shut off, on the console table. Her face was reflected in the black glass.

“You should be a literary critic, not a psychologist.”

“Am I that bad?”

“Joking.” Her tone was distinctly serious. “Just trying to keep things interesting, maybe aim for some of that literary audience who enjoy philosophical themes and all.”

“Oh, so now you have a business objective? I know that’s not what you mean and since your books are very popular as is, I doubt your publisher is bothering you for anything like that, unless it’s to bicker on their own preferences. It isn’t like you to mix how you feel about the world you live in with what you write in your book, you always kept what actually happened sacrosanct. Life is getting heavy for you, that’s it. Too heavy.” Nat bit her lip. “This is just my advice as your psychologist, but let your writing be that dream life. When you write, be the Nat that lived twenty years in that dream world, writing her diary. Let the writing be what gives you real joy, not an achievement of a purpose, but a way of really reliving it. Hell, reread what you already published. I’ll lend you my copies, if you don’t have them for some reason. Write what you lived, not what you live now, writing a memory. You’re wealthy now, let people be damned and do it, Nat.” She was taken aback by this. She didn’t often get that much out of him, usually their appointments became banter and light chat.

“I’ll… think about it.” Nat finished her coffee then gazed into the bottom of the empty mug for a moment. “I’ll get some fresh air this afternoon and think it all over. Have a lot of things to think about.”

“Like selecting an artist for the manga?” Bridge smiled at his patient’s shocked expression. “Don’t act so startled! There’s been rumors about it for a while now and recently one of the artist candidates leaked a bit of it. Your books aren’t that popular in Japan, due to them being seen as just a foreign take on the typical parallel world light novel concept, so they hope to make some ground by creating a manga adaptation.” Nat laughed.

“You know it better than I do!” She stood up and headed for the door. “I was thinking of rejecting the proposal all together, actually.” Templeton wagged his finger from across the room as she put her shoes back on.

“Miss Gerwulf, you should really consider it! It could be an interesting opportunity to give a visual appearance to those apparently colorful characters of your world. The candidates that have been revealed thus far don’t seem bad at all as well. Out the door already?” Nat was often shocked by how fast the psychologist changed subjects, even if it was nothing new With her shoes and coat on, she avoided replying to him directly and instead just pondered it silently.

“It’s strange.”

“Hmm? What is? I can’t mindread, honest-”

“You acted like a real psychologist today.” Nat opened the door and awaited his response, leaving the check for the appointment in an envelope on the ground, glancing at Bridge in the reflection of the glass. He was unfazed by her words, instead still wearing a warm smile.

“While it’s true most of our appointments turn into pure banter, I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or a complaint.” Bridge chuckled. “Call me next time you’re up for an appointment.”

“I appreciate it, doc.” She appreciated many things about Bridge Templeton and the appointments with him. One might even imagine there was something more between them, but their relationship was strictly platonic and Nat had the intention of always keeping it that way. He was one colorful person in a monochrome world and this world’s love would make him turn to grayscale. It happened to her father, after all, loving him again after her old life made her realize how colorless he truly was. She was startled by Bridge tapping her on the shoulder.

“One more thing before you leave; are those flowers that are always in your hair real?” She turned towards Bridge, gave her hair a stroke and sadly smiled. “That’s a secret, my friend. And before you ask why I wear them, I won’t spoil the story to come.” Reflecting on the flowers never ceased to make her melancholic, but she always took time to weave them into her hair every morning.

With a short wave goodbye, she descended to her car and paused before getting into the leather seats to send a message to her father to move their lunch appointment to the next day. Nat needed this afternoon for herself.



Nat's afternoon for herself ended up being as lackluster as she expected. It was better than suffering through lunch with her father, sure, but she wished now that she had just returned home and spent the rest of the day writing or killing time. Well, she had killed time either way. When she kept herself from writing, things became a matter of killing time, always. Writing her story was her purpose, after all, any time she kept herself from doing that for some reason just dragged on and on and this afternoon was no different. She had gone to the park, spent a while meandering in Shine Junction, returned to the park, went to another park and unceremoniously buried her alarm clock after the morning's incident, had dinner alone in some expensive bistro which she really did find too expensive for what it served, even went to see a movie. She couldn't recall which movie it was for the life of her, though, her mind was blank the entire time and the projection just became moving images and colors.

Still, she didn't want to go back on her word to Bridge, that she'd get some fresh air and think things over. So far, she accomplished one of those goals and that goal did not involve choosing an artist. After her movie, she had exited the cinema, returned home and had debated with herself between drinking herself to sleep with a nicotine patch and going out again. What brought her to decision, ultimately, was her stock of booze. Lots of vodka, a few bottles of fancy wines -- which she really just drank for nostalgia purposes, being the most popular drink of the Land of Fenoglio where she had once lived --, some cocktail bases and a total lack of beer. An excuse to go to a bar, it seemed.

Always excuses. she thought to herself. She never did anything without an excuse that told her to do so, nothing had a real point, after all. She had done it all before, it was different, but the same. Nothing really thrilled her, but at least it gave her something to do when she wasn't writing. If she finished writing all of her twenty years too soon, she'd have nothing left to live for and she was undeniably young. Giving herself that fate so early on would be the worst thing imaginable. She wouldn't pad things down by writing about the simple days just to take more time in accomplishing her purpose, as well.

Within twenty minutes, she had stripped, showered, clothed herself in a simple set of clothes fit for a warm summer's night, consisting of a blue knee-length skirt, brown stockings, a simple white blouse and a light sweater over that. The ensemble was complete with some white gloves.

It was 11:40 when she arrived at the nearest bar her GPS showed her, roaring up to a free spot across the street in her Audi. Leaving the supercar, a warm breeze had her instinctively check her hair for the flowers. Sure enough, they were there, woven in well enough not to fly away from the breeze, save for the occasional petal. They were, in fact, real, delivered every morning and evening to her apartment by a favored florist of hers'. White roses, with exceptionally thin stems and the thorns cut off by the florist before delivery. She usually wove new ones in every morning, but evening excursions had her replace them.

"The Cornerstone, huh." She sighed. The name isn't bad, almost feels like something from Soma.. Nat crossed the road now and entered the bar and she was sort of shocked at how many people were inside. Sunday nights typically weren't the most popular nights, but sure enough, a fairly unique crowd of folk were making themselves comfortable. To Nat, though, they were still all colorless. Unique among the monochrome, but monochrome nonetheless. She sat at the bar, gesturing to the bartender to come over as she sat down. "Surprise me. No cocktails. Thank you." She flatly asked and as the bartender looked her down with a somewhat confused expression, she glanced over at the beers and shrugged. "European, then."

The bartender took his turn to sigh before pouring her a glass of something Bavarian. "Times?" she inquired.

"We close at 1:30 PM." His response was flat, like her own question. Fair enough. Golden rule, treat others the way you want to be treated. I don't care how I'm treated.

"Thanks." she opened her bag and pulled out her passport, showing the age. Nat had yet to get herself a local ID. "If anyone needs a round, here, for the trouble.", she told the honestly confused bartender, replacing her passport on the counter with some cash.

"What trouble...?" The bartender murmured as he took the cash. Nat finished her drink and was onto her second. Alcohol was a good partner in crime when it came to killing time.

.

Tsubasa Yukimori

10:30PM, Sunday

"It's summertime..." the woman brushed a hand through her long, thinning hair before letting it fall limp to her side from the ponytail she had tied it up in. "A season full of new beginnings, and happiness abound. And still, it makes me so very...melancholy."

Tsubasa gazed up at the gentle black sky, stars glittering as bright as the notorious lights of Shine City itself. She stood in the centre of the park, in what seemed to be pitch blackness otherwise. Pulling the fabric of her coat over her sky-blue dress a little tighter, she breathed a soft, weak breath before lowering her head, and with her eyes focused firmly on the ground before her, took step after step to the one place she knew she had to be that evening. It was unusual, but hers was one of the special cases handled by the psychologist, Bridge Templeton. After all, it was not an easy feat dealing with somebody whose problems could not be fixed with mere medication alone. She only hoped he had time to hear her out, and offer her somewhere warm to sit, and perhaps have a little cry.

For a warm summer's evening, Tsubasa Yukimori felt very, very cold.

"Doctor Templeton, I beg, please, let me in..." a soft voice called from behind the door of the psychologist's office. Her hands shook delicately as she prepared herself to mentally break the news to her psychologist/psychiatrist, too. He was as good as both, to her, even helping her as far as getting the required medication to keep her moods in check. "...I need to speak to you. Please, doctor. Please..."

The door to the small apartment creaked open, and the young Bridge Templeton, hazy in the evening's glow, blinked up at the woman from behind spectacles. Something about him signalled his emotions. It was concern, and far from disgust, to the young woman's relief. "Miss Yukimori. Please...please come in."

He ushered the woman inside, and almost immediately, upon noticing her shivering, left her alone in his 'therapy room', on the lavish couch, as he went to fetch a shawl or blanket to put over her shoulders. When he returned, he had noticed the woman staring blankly into the distance, where his psychologist's chair stood. It was empty, and the leather stared back at Tsubasa. Her eyes didn't focus at the chair, no. Instead, it seemed her gaze went right through it, and she had the expression of a deer being caught in the headlights. It took Dr. Templeton a little while to have the young woman open up, after providing her with a hot drink and fetching his pen and pad hurriedly. There was still a tired look about his eyes, but concern for his patients was the overriding emotion. Especially this woman right here.

Tsubasa had been seeing Dr. Templeton since soon after she was diagnosed, and had always seen him just as much of a life counsellor as a psychologist. Despite some of his suggestions, her parents chose to do the opposite, such as foregoing the necessary medical procedures that might have had a chance - albeit very small - of saving their daughter. Needless to say, they would spend the world's fortune or more on her, evidenced by the little envelope she carried, filled with bills she would use to pay for this particular session. This, or any future one, might be her last, after all.



"Doctor Templeton..." she croaked, voice hardly above a mixture of a stammer and a whisper, and her eyes never looking up at his. Instead, she continued to stare, right through the chair, her lips in a traumatised frown, only moving ever so slightly when she was made to speak. "...they told me."

"Told you, Tsubasa?" he responded, his voice caring, coaxing the information out of her. Despite the fact that he was a chatty enthusiast, he also knew how to be serious when the occasion called. And this woman looked as if she was about to break down any second.

"I have a month, doctor."
"A month until...?"
"The doctors say I have thirty days until I..." her voice trailed off, and she bit her lower lip, only to notice its quivering. Nevertheless, what had to be said could not be avoided. It had to be said.
"It's getting worse, doctor. My hair is beginning to fall out. I have to visit the hospital again and again now, more frequently than ever. They have to take care of me. One day, I'll...I'll be in a hospital bed, and I'm afraid I won't be able to get up again to see the sunrise. Or the sky. Doctor Templeton, you know how much I love the sky. I'll...miss it, when I leave."
"Leave, Tsubasa?"
"Doctor. They told me that I have about thirty days, give or take, before my life comes to an end."

"...I see." the psychologist murmured, hardly fazed. After all, it was in his profession to maintain his cool, especially at times like this. Still, it was unnerving, hearing about someone's imminent death, and being powerless to stop it from happening. Something, he wished, something there was to do for her. But in this case, Tsubasa had been sick for a long time, and not many people made it past two months tops if diagnosed in such a direct manner. It could be sheer luck that she made it another six months, but still. Bridge Templeton knew as well as his patient that every single day would have to be lived as if it were the last.

"There's no hope, is there, doctor...?" the woman curled up where she sat, into a smaller ball, kicking off her flats and huddling close on the couch. "I'm really going to die, aren't I?"

"You might be, Tsubasa. But that doesn't change who you are. It won't change who you are until you end up dying, after all. I know you, and I know that this isn't...how you want to spend your life. I could do a lot of psychological readings, and prescribe you medicine, but that wouldn't help either of us in this case. For now, Tsubasa, I want you to enjoy what you can, while you're still here. I want you to make the most of it for me."
He paused.
"Can you do that, for me?"

The woman looked up from behind teary hazel eyes. They had collected in the corners of her eyelids, and when meeting his gaze, spilled like tiny streams down her cheeks. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth open, as if in disbelief, as if she was going to say something. Yet, as it were, nothing came out. One second passed, which became five, which then became ten.
"...yes, doctor." the woman whispered, her lips contorting into a forced, melancholy smile as she reached up a hand to wipe away her tears.
"I promise I'll live out these days like I wanted to live out the rest of my life."

Kenji Omarsa
11:25 PM
Kenji's Apartment- The Cornerstone

Ken awoke with a start. A nightmare. He sighed as he ran his hands down his face and looked over at his clock. 11:25 pm. Great. He sat up in his small bed and swung his legs to the side. All he was wearing was his boxers and his dog tags. He turned on his lamp and saw his reflection in the mirror on the wall parallel to his bed. Kenji's white hair was a mess, as usual, but even more so with bedhead. His red eyes seem to reflect off the light, giving him a sinister look. His scarred arms were always prominent, but he now saw his other scars too. Across his chest and stomach. One going down the outside of his thigh. The young man sighed and got up and stretched, his hands nearly scraping the ceiling of his bedroom. It was small, his TV and his other belongings barely fit in the room and his closet was jam packed with his clothes and other assorted items.

Kenji left his bedroom and walked to his even smaller bathroom, equipped with just a toilet, a sink, and a shower. He slipped out of his boxers and turned on the shower, waiting a moment for the heat to kick on. Ken slipped into the shower with his dog tags on.

He wears them everywhere.

After showering and brushing his teeth, Ken walked into the living room of his apartment, which was slightly bigger than his bathroom and bedroom combined. He pulled out his gun case from under his bed and set on the coffee table. It was one of the only weapons he was allowed to use on the job, though he had a shotgun in his closet for emergencies. Plus his knife. Kenji opened the case, revealing his 1911 Operator with a wooden finish. Widely considered one of the greatest handguns ever made and Ken was no exception. Kenji walked over to his CD player and picked out a CD from his large collection and slid it into the player, returning to his position in front of the coffee table.



He quickly dismantled it and began to clean each part, the motions drilled into him from thousands of repetitions of the action. Kenji smiled as he finished cleaning and assembling his weapon. "Ah, Geddy Lee, you are my muse." he said to himself, placing the gun back in the case and closing it, returning it under his bed. He had the day off, which rarely happened. He got dressed, wearing a simple snug green T-shirt with a belt and blue jeans. His scars and tattoo would be clearly visible. He grabbed his keys and headed outside. Ken left the building and saw his baby in the parking lot, a blue and white Harley-Davidson Sportster. Ken mounted her, placing the key in and revving the engine. He kicked back the kickstand and ripped on the throttle speeding out of the parking lot and onto the open road. He decided he would stop by the cornerstone, he wasn't much for drinking, but he had nowhere else to hang out.

About 10 minutes later, Ken rolled into the Cornerstone parking lot, turning off the sportster and pocketing the keys, he headed inside. It was fairly populated, the room was dim and cool and blues played in the background out of the jukebox.



The strewn about patrons kept to themselves as Kenji approached the bar and pulled up a stool next to a surly looking man, the bartender looked at Ken and did a double take as he noticed Kenji's red eyes. "Cigar, please, California Sunlight." The bartender nodded and disappeared into the backroom for a moment, before coming out with a box of cigars and placing it between the two men. Ken handed him $30 and opened the box, pulling out his own cigar clipper and snapping off the top of the cigar. He glanced at the man next to him and said "Help yourself, on me." Kenji then lit the cigar and begin to puff on it, closing his eyes while listening to Stevie's soulful playing.

@Dynamo Frokane

It was a pretty nice evening, the day overall had been pretty peaceful. For the Fire Crew at least. Besides this one call they received not too long ago that was pretty... Odd. Ashton was on duty, driving around in the fire truck with her friend Marine. It was a little tiring, some fires have been breaking out these past couple of months and causing them both to be quick on their heels. It was exhausting like usual, and a little odd to see that many fires break out. Normally, things weren't that exciting but perhaps the summer heat had been overbearing this summer. Thankfully it was almost fall so fires should hopefully die down a little. She might need to get a part time job until the spring. Still it's been so busy, she hardly had time to get to know her roommate, Amaya. @Knight Of Doom

A few months ago, the younger girl had been looking for a place to live for a little while. After a chance encounter, and a dare from Marine, Ashton happily allowed the beautiful woman to live at her house. Most of the though, Ashton would leave for two to three days working at the station then come home and promptly pass out on the couch. Still, it had been fun for what it was worth. Making a new friend and having someone there at home. It was nice really. She missed having that feeling when coming home after a long day at work and seeing a friendly face.

".....Ash you're so old fashion." Marine said as she sat in the drivers seat of the fire truck, glancing at the review mirror as she craned the vehicle's ladder toward a tree.

Blinking her amethyst colored gem eyes, Ashton snapped out of her daydream to questionly look at her auburn haired crewmate. Looking away from the tree that held their troubled victim. The tall blonde tilted her head to the side, arms absently crossed in front of her chest as she wore her uniform. Darkish yellow jacket and pants with red and white stripes, thick gloves and boots and a red hat with the built in flashlight turned on, covering the blonde hair. Only part of her body really seen is her scarred mauled face. Carrying a tank of air that was strapped to her body, should the situation arise that required it.

"Don't give me that look. You're easy to read. Daydreaming of that cutie at home?" Marine smirked teasingly as she positioned the truck ladder correctly.

Giving a couple of confused blinks, the tall woman's face slightly darkened red and shook her head. Uncrossing her arms and waving them wildly in front of her in her embarrassment at being caught red handed. Feeling her ears burn a little and her mouth run a little dry, so she quickly snagged a water bottle that was resting on the silver lining of the truck and gulped it down.

"You ain't getting any younger Ash. You gotta at least go out with someone once in your life. And your the type to fall for that one person, dream of living in a pretty White House with a white picket fence, have two kids and a cat and a dog." The red head mused as leaned out the window to check her position.

Ashton blinked moving her left hand up to gingerly cup her chin between her thumb and index finger in a thinking position while the right arm wrapped around the ribcage so the left elbow could rest against it. Gingerly she extended her finger as she arched her right eyebrow.

"Going out with friends doesn't count as 'going out' you knucklehead. You got to live a little and do a little 'UH!' and 'AH' In your life!" Marine exclaimed, pumping her first as she said 'uh' and 'ah' in a forceful tone.

Ashton stared at her friend in utter confusion, a innocent unsure smile playing on her lips as her index fingers gingerly pressed and tapped together in a nervous manner like some anime high school girl, cocking her head to the side as she tried to decipher the odd words spilling from her friends mouth. Which just earned a frustrated groan from the red head who promptly banged her forehead against the steering wheel.

"Would you two do your job and get me down from here!?" came a voice from above and the two women turned to look up the tree to see their distressed citizen of the day. Apparently, a middle schooler got himself stuck in a tree. Usually it was cats, but apparently this evening it was kids trapped in trees.

"You shut up! You're the idiot who got stuck up here in the first place and wasting my time from partying at the club!" Marine snapped back before grumbling, waving toward Ashton lazily as she leaned against the steering wheel.

"Ash, be a dear and go get the brat. I don't want to deal with him." she huffed.

Giving a soft amused chuckle, Ashton stretched her arms over her head before rolling her strong shoulders. Unzipping her jacket, she removed the piece of uniform and set it on the edge of the hood of the vehicle. Leaving her in a white shirt, her suspenders resting against her shoulders while her muscled bare arms were now revealed. Gleaming with sweat for the day.

Climbing on top of the firetruck, she climbed up along the white ladder, ignoring the onlookers who watched with interest as they passed. Once reaching to the top, the tall boyish woman gave a comforting smile to the younger individual and reached out a gloved hand. The kid just stared at her for a moment before opening his mouth.

"Why'd they send such a ugly pretty boy up here?" he huffed in a snarky manner. Ashton could just feel the comment land like a boulder on her head. And a nice gut punch to any ego she ever had. Her purple gaze watered as she pouted at the thought of her lack of... Everything. Still she shook it off and smiled, wrapping a arm around the snarky boy and flung him over her right shoulder before starting to climb back down the ladder.

"Hey what the--?! Careful would you?!" he complained before clinging against her, fingers gripping the back of her shirt tightly as he fearfully stared down.

Ashton didn't mind it and soon enough they made it back to the safety of the ground. The tall firefighter setting the boy down and smiled happily, giving a thumbs up at the successful rescue and glad to see that the boy was generally alright.

Giving a huff, the young boy looked away. "W-Well if took you long enough! Thanks I guess! Hope not to see you again." he grumbled before darting off. Ashton waving her left arm over her head in a cheerful manner as she hid him farewell.

"Ugh. I hate brats. How about we decide what to get for dinner? I'm starving. what the heck is even open on a Sunday night?" Marine grumbled, groaning loudly as her stomach growled.

Thinking, Ashton tapped her foot thoughtfully against the ground before snapping her fingers as a idea popped into her head. Pointing to a corner then a rock nearby as she hopped up and down eagerly.

"The Cornerstone? Yeah guess that's nearby and they're open. Could get a drink or two too. Plus I have you as my designated driver and could get a couple cuties." Marine smirked, approving the idea. So Ashton happily clapped her hands together before grabbing the jacket and water bottle, and got into the passengers seat while Marine secured the ladder.

Soon enough the two headed to the Cornerstone, heading inside and getting a table. Both looked pretty tired and hungry, but Marine was instantly checking out the other customers. Ashton sighed and drowsily looked over the menu. Pondering if she should bring Amaya anything. Maybe not, she's probably asleep by now.

21:04, Sunday, S.C.S. Institute

“What did he ask for again...” Jacob Sharner murmured to himself as he made his way with quick steps through the long corridors of the Institute. He was gazing at the floor in deep thought as he went, though he was small enough not to bump into anything or anyone. “Was it the battery? No, we got that in advance... The leftover shape-memory alloy? There shouldn't be a need for that anymore... Ahh...”
He was sent by his professor—Senior Research Scientist was the official title, as he recalled—to retrieve a missing part from the artificial hand the Robotics team was working on in the moment. The prototype was very close to completion and Jake, who was perhaps the most excited to work on the project, did not want to waste a second more than necessary. Only, he forgot mid-way through which part did the professor exactly ask for.

‘Not again...’

Errors like this rarely happened to him anymore. In his very first work days at the Institute, he was a mess. A mess of excitement and anxiety, to be exact. The people here however welcomed him with open arms and kind words, which helped him ease into the flow of things considerably. After a week of fitting in and another to get in the loop of what was going down in the expansive facility, he was already presenting ideas to the project leads, seeking ways to improve on present constructs or make something completely different.
Yet, he still only was an Associate, and that meant following the higher-ranked and thus, more experienced and wiser scientists' directions, and his professor was one of them. As he gave it a thought, he never actually experienced the man being wrong...perhaps he was a little old-fashioned at times, but that was just a trait one acquired after spending enough time in the field. Despite this however, Jake was confident he would always have the ‘vision’ with him. Even after being promoted to Senior Research Scientist, his lifelong dream...

And there he went, trailing off again.

No, really, he swore he was through his absent-minded period. That was what he told everyone too, and he did not want to prove himself wrong. He had done everything he could to aid his flawed memory, from audio-diaries to post-it notes. Then he tried to fix the ‘source’ itself, all to moderate success. He did find out however that thinking out loud helped keep his mind organised for some reason—much to the annoyance of his otherwise accepting co-workers. That was what he did now too as he finally pushed open the door to the sizeable storage area.
“The piezo motor, maybe...?”

The Institute had several storehouses, one for each department. The one for Computer Science was one of the largest as it required the long-time stock of many large physical parts. Jake did generally know where to find everything...but still had no idea what it was he was looking for exactly. A prosthetic arm, an advanced one at that, had a ton of pieces needed. He remembered that it was a small part that was missing—small but important...kind of like him—wait, no. That was not what he should have been thinking about right now.
He looked around the storehouse, fiddling with the little device on his glasses as he usually did as a side-activity. He was so focused trying to scour through his every brain cell to remember that he did not notice that the door behind him opened again.

“Looking for something, Sharner?”
The troubled scientist almost jumped in his shock when he heard his name called. He quickly turned around and noted with a relieved breath that it was not his professor, not even any scientist from the team, but a staff member, responsible for operating the heavy machinery—and carrying the heavy loads—around these parts. Barret Orson was the man's name, Jake remembered that one well. He had asked him to help him with storehouse errands like this many times before. It was a rather humorous scene having the two exchange words, the short scientist almost had to talk up to the well-built worker.
“Oh. Uh, yes, actually,” was Jake's quickly churned out answer. “But...it's nothing I can't handle, really.”
He tried his best to sound reassuring, even cracked a smile to help the image.
“If you say so... Well, I'll be on my way then. The system architecture guys will spring if I don't bring them some material to work with soon.”

THE SPRING!

Jake felt like he had his biggest eureka moment yet. That was it: the spring from the actuator, that was what missing! Without it, the arm would be almost completely inflexible. He suddenly remembered everything, how frustrated the professor sounded when he told him to go and get the remaining springs as they miscalculated the amount needed.
“Right, right. Thanks, see you!”
He sprinted off before Barret could even ask what he thanked him for. He picked up a whole box of them just to be sure and headed back to the lab, doing his best walk-like-it's-running motion.

“Ah there you are, Jake. You were away for a while,” the professor greeted him as the automatic door slid open and the green-haired scientist walked inside.
Senior Research Scientist Nagato Seishiro was the leader of the Robotics team and a tenured member of the Computer Science department at the Institute. A typical example of an old and wise scientist, his influence was instrumental in teaching the upstart Jake patience and precision, much needed skills in this field of work.
“I'm sorry. I just...ran into someone on the way back,” he replied, having thought over his excuse a long time ago already.
“Don't worry, my friend. We're well within the deadline, so you can say we've all the time in the world. Did you find the springs needed?”
“Yes, there they are.” He gave the box to Nagato, who pulled out one of the parts inside and walked over with it to the nearby large table.

Jake followed closely after him, fixing his sight on the prototype robotic arm that laid on the table, a whole team of scientists around it. They had been working solely on this project for more than a month now, starting out from an earlier, more primitive version and ending up with a much better, almost fully-functioning prosthesis. It was only time for the finishing touches now...
...which were carefully applied by the professor as he inserted the spring to the opened space and put the cover back on that part of the arm.
“And it's done!” he exclaimed proudly, raising up the complete arm like a trophy.
“All that overtime work... It's about time.” murmured another scientist.
“The official presentation is a week away. We're going to have to run the crash course on it until that. If it breaks, it breaks—we'll cancel the whole thing. But it won't. I trust the division's work.” Nagato spoke to everyone in the lab.

‘Right. The presentation...’

The professor reminded everyone of the event that would take place in the Institute's science museum section: the official and public reveal of the most groundbreaking and innovative projects being worked on here at the moment. The artificial arm was on the schedule too, which would not have been that big of a deal for Jake if not for the fact that he also had to give a speech. Nagato appointed him personally for the task, saying that it would help him with his nerves and all, give him a concrete matter to focus on.

He was pretty sure this was all just some cruel belated ‘newbie initiation’ process no one informed him about, though.

Jacob Sharner left the building in slightly lower spirits than the rest of his team. He was already stressing about the upcoming event, even though there was still plenty of time to practice and prepare for it. Whether he liked it or not, the professor was right—it was a massive opportunity to prove himself as being done with his old ways and could actually be considered a serious scientist. He really needed to give his best...
Naturally, the matter was still on his mind in the moment he finally hit the bed in his apartment. He was never a good sleeper and often pulled sleepless nights if that meant getting ahead with anything. But there was nothing official to work on now—so he popped out of his bed, put his glasses down on his little in-house workbench and started working on his own pet project...

The worst part about Amaya's work was when there was nothing to do. It was nearly midnight which meant that the only customer was a drunk guy trying to hit on one of her fellow co workers. He was extremely inebriated and had no one else with him to take him home. The blonde sighed softly before walking over to the only customer and saving her co worker from the man's harassment.

“Excuse me, sir, but the restaurant will be closing soon. Is there anything I can do for you, so that you may leave satisfied?” The words sounded weird, but it was just a nice way of saying 'get out’. The brunette that had been previously standing next to her scurried away. She was new and this had been her first late night, so it was understandable that she didn't break now how to deal with these kinds of customers. The man at the table looked her over in an obvious way before grinning.

“Ya know, honey, I would love it if a lovely girl such as yerself helped me home. I'm a little bit tipsy, so I need some help.” It was a bit difficult to understand him, but he got his point across quite clearly. Amaya kept smiling despite the fact that she was a bit uncomfortable.

“Of course, I can help you home. What's your address?” She took out a pen and paper and recorded his words. “Alright, let's go.” She gently took his arm and helped her up. The older man leaned on her heavily, but it wasn't too much of a problem for the athletic female. Before the two exited the door, Amaya called out to the girl she had saved. “I'll be right back, you can start closing up. Just make sure everything is clean.”

The night was clear and just a bit humid. The sounds of the city nearly drowned out the bugs chirping all around. It was still summer, so all the students were making the best of what time they had left since school was about to begin. As soon as Amaya and the annoyingly handsy man she was practically dragging got to the main road, she waved down a cab and threw him in. She then told the cabbie his address and was done with her duty.

Upon returning to the Tiny Snowflake, Amaya finished closing up the store. With nothing to do, Amaya was a bit bored. She had started taking more night shifts since no one else wanted to do them, and her sleep schedule was messed up. Though she had never had a particular fondness of the night life, Amaya had found herself getting curious to go somewhere like Club LUSH without anyone having to drag her around. However, it was probably better to go to the apartment room she was sharing before she gets too crazy. @Silver Fox

Amaya entered in the room quietly, just in case Ashton was sleeping. However, after a quick inspection of the house, she was nowhere to be found. While the blonde had lived with her roommate for a while, they hadn't been able to do a lot of things together which was a bit disappointing. She would have liked to gotten to know her better. Amaya decided to actually eat something since she hadn't eaten during her shift. Luckily her roommate didn't eat 100% junkfood. One had to be careful of what they are in order to be a firefighter.

After shifting through all the food in the fridge, she settled on a light salad. The waitress sat on the couch and flipped through some channels, hoping to find something interesting. However, the channel landed on a lingerie fashion show. Seeing the perfect girls walking up and down the catwalk in skimpy underwear made Amaya self conscious. She realized how much she had slacked off on working out since she started working more over the summer. The forkful of lettuce that she was about to put into her mouth was put back. She no longer had an appetite.

Amaya tried to sleep, boy did she try. However, her brain kept thinking back to her insecurity. She really needed to work out. Deciding to make a change now, the blonde dressed up in baggy sports wear and went out for a jog. It may have been late, but she couldn't stand sitting around. With headphones in, and a invigorating playlist, she began running around Shine City park. Her goal was to keep running until she couldn't.

---

Once again Kyle found himself strolling through the city at night, wide awake and unable to sleep. He watched as people bustled through the streets, happy, carefree, ready for the night life. Really though he was just bored, and exhausted... 'Maybe I should see a doctor,' the American thought, yawning all the while. How many months had this gone on for? Too many for Kyle at least, though that didn't really stop his work performance or mastery of customer service (patience is a virtue). Still, the short hours he did manage to rest just made some days harder than others.

Truthfully, while today wasn't one of those harder days, he did want to get a drink, and maybe if he was lucky enough, a pretty lady to spend the night with, though the cornerstone wasn't on his mind. No he decided to go to club LUSH, it wasn't like he was going to run into Nori there, she had gone onto bigger and better things, the club was in the past for her, but it was also part of his too. Memories and nostalgia ran through his brain, but he shook them off, he really needed that drink. Shine Junction was where the club was housed, and the best way to get there from where he was, was to cut through the park.

The crowds began to thin out as he approached the park, the night was quiet here, far away from the hustle of the youth. Though the air was mostly warm, a slight chill did run through it, this of course gave Kyle the opportunity to wear his favorite green skull cap. Come to think of it...considering he was going to LUSH and that it'd be hot as hell in there, that was probably a bad idea. It was already bad enough that he was wearing denim jeans, the hat would make him hella hot, though again if there was a pretty lady involved, he'd be hella hot anyway. So engrossed was the young optician in his thoughts of overheating, that he barely registered the other human being jogging along the cross path as the two collided into one another. Caught off guard and off balance, Kyle tumbled into the pavement as the other human had shot into him almost like a bullet.

"Goddamn, why does this keep happening to me?" groaning slightly as he sat himself up, he looked around for the perpetrator. A rather beautiful blonde woman sat on the ground before him in a similar state of discomfort. Embarrassed Kyle picked himself up and went over to check on the girl, "Hey are you okay? I'm really sorry about that, my mind just wandered and I didn't see you." Genuine concern filled his voice and showed on his face, he legitimately felt bad, this was literally the third person this month he ran into; at least it wasn't that crotchety old bastard this time.

@Knight of Doom

Theodore Maxwell

---

Earlier in the Day: Theo's Apartment 7:56am

The morning had started as normal one for Theo, getting his early wake up call form his cats. Their only interest in getting their breakfast. Theo sat half a sleep on his couch munching on a bit of toast dressed in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. Staring a a blank T.V screen, not feeling bothered enough to even turn it on. Right now it took all his effort to keep his eyes open and eat his breakfast.
"Really gotta to stop staying up to 4am playing video games. Still at least I got that sword. I'll have to tell Neatfreak next time they're on. See if they want it." he thought as he ate. Swaying side to side slowly as he stared at the blank T.V screen.

Theo stayed like that until 8:32am ... well he actually fell back asleep only to awake to the sound of his cats having a disagreement over something. Not that Theo could be bothered to look, merely grabbing a cushion of his couch. Lazily tossing it in the general direction of the nosy animals. It seemed it was going to be one of those days as five minutes later Jax and Krew where at it again. Theo sighing it was still far to early to be breaking up cat fights. Slowly getting up, finding it hard to make the effort. He approached his cats, both of them looking at him as the floor creaked on his approach. Picking both Jax and Krew up in an arm each, holding them at his side.
"Break it up or I'm going to bath both of you. Just go sun bake look it seems nice outside." he said to his cats, laughing at his threat. It not like they'd understand. Dropping both of them, Theo decided he have shower and start his day, not even bothering to see what the fuss was over. It's was most likely nothing, just his two furry overlords being furry overlords ...

---

The rest of Theo's day was spent restocking his empty cupboards and cleaning his apartment. Somehow finding the motivation to do clean it form top to bottom. Something that was rare for Theo given he had no love for cleaning. Luckily the cleaning didn't take to long. However his food shopping did as finding he got "distracted" a spending an hour half talking to a his friend Jack who he bumped into on the street. The pair having not had any contact since a certain night Theo can't remember. Parting ways agreeing to catch up at the Cornerstone. A place Theo had quickly become a regular at.

---

Present time: The Cornerstone

Theo was sat in his normal booth, looking the tiniest bit annoyed. He had been here for an hour and half, waiting for Jack to show up. Not that Theo minded if he didn't, although a little annoyed he was content to sit and drink on his own or with someone willing engage him in a conversation. Still it of been nice to catch with a friend he hadn't heard a peep from for what Theo felt like was too long. Still sitting and merely soaking in the atmosphere was enough. It why he came to the Cornerstone it was simply a place he found relaxing.
The only thing that was bugging Theo Jack kept texting him saying he was on his way or would be there soon. Theo doubting it at this point confident he was being messed with
"I'd wager he's off at some club chasing a poor girl. The text's are just to be an arse. Payback I'd wager. Should really free up the booth ... nah ... can't be assed people can ask me to move if they want it." Theo muttered to himself starting at his bottle of pear cider.

Kieran Hishamie

Kieran woke up, slightly confused as to the place he had awoken in. Kieran lazily looked at his surroundings. And when he did he nearly gave himself a heart attack. He was sitting up, back to bark, on a branch high up on a tree. The tree looked as though it was the center of a garden in a park type area, with a small lake near him. The water looked clear in the moon light, and shone brilliantly. Kieran looked at himself. He was still wearing his black T shirt, red jacket, and blue jeans from this morning, and he had his laptop on his lap, with very few words typed. Kieran looked at his watch on his left wrist and was slightly surprised to see how late it was. Kieran put away his laptop in his laptop bag, and swung it around his shoulder. Then Kieran lifted himself up and hung from the branch he was sitting on. Kieran then threw himself and kicked off from the tree, backflipping off the tree, and landing perfectly on the ground. Kieran sighed.

Kieran began walking back to his small apartment, watching the night life around him unfold. Kieran watched as the people around him enoyed themselves, drinking, laughing, holding hands, making loud noises and generally seemingly having a good time. Kieran was bored by all of it. He only saw people being fake, people just trying to fit in and do whatever they can to have mindless fun. Kieran found all that annoying and only slowed his creative process from pissing him off. Kyle stopped at the stop sign at the end of side walk, and waited for the light to turn red so he could cross. Kieran pulled out his IPhone and looked at the missed texts, deleting the missed voicemails. The messages were all from his publisher, asking where the hell was he, where was the update on his progress, blah blah blah. Kieran locked his phone and put it back into his pocket.

Kieran was working on his book New Voyage 2, a title a work in progress, sequal to his first book, New Voyage. He had some success and fame from hit, suprising Kieran to say the least. He thought he had some good ideas, but it took him so long and worked on it for so long he never thought the book would be viewed by as many people as it is. Kieran still receives royalties that pay for his rent and food and hs editor was in a hurry to publish his next book. Kieran never really wanted to make a career in writing, but to be fair he never knew. Kieran was a free spirit and very unmotivated.

The light turned red and Kieran crossed the street. Kieran walked, and walked, and walked, way past his apartment. Kieran didn't know where he was going but he didn't feel going home. He didn't want to interact too much with people but the night wasn't over yet. So Kieran walked. He walked into a part of town that had clubs, bars, restaurants, cafes. This was a part of town that Kieran did not walk through regularly. Kieran almost felt out of place, looking around and seeing everyone together.

Ashton was currently happily eating a basket of fries, they were quite delicious. And for a tall famished firefighter, it was pure bliss. She had already devoured the fish strips, the delicious source of protein completely gone. Digesting into her rumbling belly that demanded she feed it back all the calories she burned today. It always felt like she had a appetite really. Marine on the other hand was doing the usual checking out the other people around them.

"Mhmm we got a few cuties today~ Too bad we're in uniform and all grimy from work to actually go flirting." the auburn haired firefighter groaned as she rested her Firefighter coat on the back of her seat.

It was true, neither of them would be appropriate for a hanging out session. Both were sweaty and grimy, some leftover black ash and soot streaking their face and bare forearms. Definitely not a clean line of work. Least the owner didn't seem to mind their presence, plus they probably looked too tired to cause much trouble. Marine always seemed to like taking advantage of the perks that came with the job. Some lines of business' gave discounts or free samples, or perhaps a little extra job in case a bouncer needed some time off and the police couldn't be bothered.

"Oh I think I spy a newbie youngster." Marine purred in amusement, causing Ashton to pause her mauling of the fries. Gulping down the remains, her amethyst gaze looked over the people curiously.

A black haired man, perhaps around her age, sat in a stool at the bar counter, smelling of alcohol and smoke. The man looked a bit worn and tired, but he was still pretty handsome. He sorta reminded her of a character from one of those ol' timey noire shows. The man looked like he didn't particularly want to be bothered, yet perhaps was a little lonely as well. But that was just her guess from a glance. She bet he had a charming side to him. @Dynamo Frokane

Then there was a girl who perhaps seemed to have a... Dreamy presence. Or perhaps prickly? Best Ashton could describe was a pretty beautiful rose. So delicate and holding such beauty that everyone adores, yet having that thorny exterior that pricked people away from touching the soft pretty petals. Locking up the mysterious beauty all for herself. Safe and protected, yet also... Lonely. @Shin

But she was probably reading too much into it.

A man sat beside the black haired man, but this one had striking white hair and dark skin. Muscular and riddled with scars, perhaps more than herself, seemed to say something. The way he moved seemed familiar, but she didn't particularly want to jump to conclusions. Scars can come from anywhere and tell their own story. But they didn't define people. Though also seemed to be the prickly little bear similar to the others.@The Survivor

A woman seemed to be speaking to the two men. Out of the people the tall blonde has examined, this woman seemed to be the most outgoing and just a bundle of energy. The stranger reminded Ash a bit like Marine. Thrill seeker but not a idiot. Perking up as she heard the familiar term of 'Street Fighter' Ashton lightly smiled. Right, she had some new games to pick up. Ashton liked video games, but she hadn't had as much time to play them anymore. Still, on relaxing days she's play a game or two. Or go to the arcade. But she wasn't really a competitive type of person.@Lunaeria

Then there was a familiar face Ashton managed to recongize. Another white haired man with red eyes and pale skin. She remembered seeing him passed out a couple of months ago while she was here and met Amaya. It seemed he was waiting for someone and was growing a bit frustrated. Hopefully he didn't get wasted again. Otherwise she might have to carry him home. Still he looked cute, when he wasn't passed out and ready to vomit. @Evil Snowman

Last but not least was a girl Ashton was pretty sure Marine was referring to. A young looking red head with such a cute and adorable face. And compared to everyone else, she looked a little out of place. One would expect this one to be at Club LUSH instead, for its more peppy energetic atmosphere. Still, she looked pretty young and Ashton couldn't tell if the girl was really twenty-one or over.

"Ash, be a dear and go over there and put the brat in her place before gets herself mugged or something." Marine said, waving her hand lazily toward the red head.

Ashton looked at the young red head, then at Marine, slightly arching her left eyebrow questionably.

"Told ya, I hate brats. And I am not in the mood to deal with anymore. Plus you make a good intimidating looking bouncer. It's why the bartender or even the club asks you. Even if you are a pansy." Marine huffed, taking a sip of her drink.

Ashton gave a soft nervous chuckle. Despite how the two women didn't seem to be too far apart in age and how Ashton had been the one dealing with all the kids, he tall blonde complied. Sometimes rowdy folk come in and pick on girls who looked easy, so she didn't want this lady to get in a situation. Especially since it seemed she was on her own. Marine often said that if Ashton was at least close, the rowdy bunch would be intimidated enough to back off.

Ashton herself didn't particularly understand. Was she that ugly? Or scary? Did she look like Frankenstein's monster or something with her scars and height? Well there wasn't really any point in worrying about it.

Finishing the last of her fries, the boyish woman stood up, stretching her long body before lumbering toward the small red head. Who probably came around the blonde's stomach. Walking up behind the girl, the tall scar faced blonde gingerly removed her grimy work gloves before tapped the small left shoulder to get her attention. A friendly smile brightly lit on her face as her amethyst eyes gazed down at her, having to crane her neck foreword.

Giving a friendly little wave with her left hand, Ashton then stuck it into a pocket, rummaging around until she pulled out her wallet. Opening it up to reveal her ID, before turning it toward the stranger, tilting her head to the side in a questioning manner.@LovelyAnastasia

Fenton liked the cornerstone because it was quiet and fairly unnoticed, especially on a sunday night, but for some reason, a HUGE group of people had entered very shortly after one another, and it was getting on his nerves. First a white haired man who looked like he could handle himself in a fight changed the jukebox jazz to old man blues, which pissed him off a bit, and then proceeded to lay out his expensive cigars on the counter. Fenton tried to hunch over and ignore him only to be almost ambushed by a very perky lady who introduced herself as Addison, she called both him and the white haired man handsome, but Fenton had a feeling she said that to everyone , so he made a point of not responding. After hearing the bar door open, and hearing more chatter, Fenton had heard enough. He downed the rest of his drink and slammed his glass on the counter along with a couple notes worth of shine credits to pay for it. Before storming away from his favorite seat, his night was ruined.

@LovelyAnastasia
As he was walking to the door, he saw her, although her head was down in a somewhat nervous fashion her eyes were almost lighting up the bar. He couldn't believe it, she looked like something out of a video game, something that had a lot of animators and graphics designers a long time to render. She looked like an angel lost in a dingy part of the mortal world, and for a second the fearless ex cop from Neo City was in shock, like a deer caught in the headlights of her perfect green torchlight eyes. She made her way past him and tried to get the attention of the bartender with her soft and sweet voice. Fenton wasn't going to wait. He walked straight up to her and grabbed her hand, and placed a business card in her soft palm. It felt like silk.

Fenton Kelly Private Investigator, Miss. I'm fairly new to this city and I'm offering my services to the locals in the Jazz quarter of town. If you need anything or anyone found or looked into. Please give me a call.......and if you just would like to talk some time and maybe get a drink in a slightly more quiet environment...then please give me a call... and I must say that's an amazing dress you are wearing.

Fenton didn't wait for her to respond, he knew he was too drunk to keep a smooth conversation going, so he just had to hope she was interested enough to pursue him at a later time. He quickly got out of the bar and decided to drive the long way round home, take in the scenery a little now that he was already out. He wouldn't dare drive slightly drunk in Neo-City but shine city barely had any traffic for some reason.

Theodore Maxwell

@LovelyAnastasia@Dynamo Frokane@Silver Fox

---

Present time: Cornerstone

Right now the Cider bottle was the most interesting thing in the world. Theo staring at it as his mind was off on another planet. The man to relaxed for his own good. Maybe it was good Jack wasn't going to show, at this point Theo felt he'd most likely punch him in the face and leave ... well blot out the door. Theo knowing the owner didn't like fist fights in his bar. Which was fair enough, this bar wasn't some crappy dive, it was what Theo would call a more classy place.

Sitting in the booth lost in his own thoughts Theo came back into the world slightly felt someone look at him. However the feeling only lasted a moment so with shrug went to his own thoughts, sipping on his cider. Finding the music to be a little bit of a downer even if he was partly enjoying it. The blue where far form his favorite in fact Theo would mark it just above Techno music. Still at least the blues didn't give give him a headache like Techno did. Downing the last of his drink Theo gave a contented sigh. Looking over at the bar thinking about getting one more drink before calling it at night. Seeing what he'd call to be a very odd sight. A dark haired man simply walked up to a green eyed girl and took her hand, placing something in it. Theo watching as the man spoke words he couldn't quite make out over the background noise. The man leaving the girl just as quickly as he approached her.
"Well that was different. Can't say I've seen someone do that before. A little weird ..." Theo thought downing the rest of his cider.

Getting up, deciding he'd have another one maybe two more drinks before calling it a night. Approaching the bar he stole a glance at the green eyed girl, who was now interacting with some tall person, who could have sworn he had seen somewhere before. Trying to get the bartenders attention he just so happened to overhear the green eyed girl mention she was meeting some friends. Theo thinking she'd most likely make better use of his booth, then him. Moving over the the pair Theo approached them looking at them both before opting to speak.

"Excuse me I overheard your here to meet some friends. If so, you can have the booth I'm sat in. My friend ditched me to chase girls somewhere else. Soooo if you want it, take it. I wont mind I'll sit up at the bar and find something or someone to amuse myself with. You'll just need to give me a moment to get my keys, phone and clear the bottles. Your also welcome to join me if you want, not bothered, wont be giving you things like that dark haired guy though. Then again your sunflower like friend here might be better company ... did ... wait did I just say that?" Theo said looking rather surprised he had let a random though he had on someone slip out like that. Although it was meant as complement so wasn't too bothered. Hopefully the tall person wouldn't be upset by the being called sunflower. Not that he cared if they where. He knew what he meant that was all that mattered to him. Although explaining what he meant, that might be difficult.

Kieran Hishamie

Kieran walked until he found a bar that looked pretty buzzing. Normally Kieran couldn't be bothered to go to bars like this, but tonight Kieran was just feeling outy. Kieran walked through the bar doors, and immediately regretted his decision. It was loud, TVs were on, people were drinking, and having fun. It was chaotic, but it was out of Kierans comfort zone. He decided he needed a drink. Kieran walked over to the counter and took a seat on one of the stools.

Kieran looked around before ordering. So many people, so many excuses on why Kieran should leave, but he didn't. Then suddenly Kieran got an idea. He pulled out his laptop and pulled up a fresh word document. He began typing away, eager to express the scen he was in.

Bar Scene, musty surroundings, fresh alcohol being poured. Out of place, our main protagonist looked around.

As Kieran typed this he looked around as well.

@silver fox

A shy looking red haired beauty, sitting and blushing, trying so hard to speak. Looking very out of her comfort zone.@lovelyanastasia
There, another beauty. Hidden interior and only displaying what she wanted people to know. If only one could travel through her mind and behold the wonders.@shin
A dark haired man, looking as though he had been through hell and back. I can only assume he is the type of man that you would go to in extreme cases of an emergency. But I wonder how he deals with life on a day to day basis. Is he calm and collected? Does he hate the people he is around. Or he is pleasant? Can he make someone smile without any effort?@the survivor
A women speaking, with energy and a passion not lost on any wondering eye. Her words may be lost to one outside of her conversation, but she seems to be fluent in the way of speaking in a way that draws peope in.@lunaeria

Kieran finished typing this and smiled. He had characters for his story, or at last a few people he could use in a side project book. Kieran gave the room a once look around and seemed to find he came into eye contact with a few people. Kieran truned his head and closed his eyes, away from the eye contact. the bartender had come up to him to ask what he wanted.

"Just a scotch and soda,"Kieran said without opening his eyes.

Kieran opened his eyes when he heard the thunk of his drink being put in front of him, but he didn't touch it yet. Kieran then resumed typing away on his computer.