The sun rose high in the sky from the east this Saturday morning, casting it’s an ember glow across the tiny speck of a town far below. The small coastal town of Ashenport and it’s residents just waking from it’s slumber. None of the residents have any idea of the horrors that await them later that night. But what is to come, will come later. For now, people wake up, getting ready to begin their day. A cool chill fills the air, as a light breeze blows across the sea. The salty smell of the ocean drifts across the port, and a few white dots on the horizon call out, revealing themselves to be one of the worlds most annoying birds: seagulls.

The town is peaceful. The town is at rest. But soon, very soon, Ashenport will become an endless nightmare. This peaceful day will be the last memories for some, and the last good memories for others. Some will cling to this day just to keep their sanity in check, to remind themselves that once upon a time they were happy, they didn’t have to live in fear, that their world didn’t revolve around death, fear and destruction. Some will cling to the memory of one day when blood didn’t fill the streets and darkness wasn’t seemingly eternal.

Hope. That’s what it boils down to. Those who survive to see the hellish transformation of Ashenport, will cling to an ever dying hope that things will return to normal. And who knows if they will; perhaps darkness will consume first this tiny insignificant port town in the middle of nowhere, and spread beyond? Or, perhaps the shadows will lift, and Ashenport will return to the peaceful serene place it is now.

Only time will tell.

---

---

Mo woke up next to a stranger, who had been spending the weekend at the hotel she called her home. She opened her eyes slowly, the mascara of last night sticky and causing her eyelids to tug as she viewed the specimen in front of her. Handsome, young, and new. She had done pretty well for herself, a smug look drawn across her face. She sat up quietly, gathering her clothes off the floor and holding them to her chest. She walked over to her purse and grabbed out a pack of thank you notes she had just bought from the general store earlier that week. Pulling one out from the plastic wrap she started to dig out a pen from her purse. The man in the bed began stirring as Montana picked up her speed, grabbing a pen and scribbling out something on the card.

Had fun. Ur Cute. Thanks

ℳ

It was a very strange ritual, but Montana had been doing it for a few years now and didn't have any plan in stopping. She got herself dressed and left the card on the side of the bed where she had awaken from. Then before you knew it, she was gone. Deciding she would visit her brother and niece today, Montana made a quick stop at her own hotel room. Room 206. She took a shower, brushed her hair and teeth, and put on deodorant. Changing into a light weight long sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. It was warm outside, but the sea always gave a chilly breeze. She put on a pair of boots and grabbed her leather jacket for later that evening. Her blonde hair in soft waves resting on her shoulder. Taking the stairs as her form of exercise, she passed by the front desk and gave a wave to Thomas.

"Have a good one Tommy, see you later!" she called, not waiting for a response before pressing past the glass doors and going out to the parking garage and taken out her car. It was a basic ford focus, barely running and a dark blue mixed with rust color. She got into the front seat and didn't bother putting on her seat belt, or checking her rear view mirrors. Speeding out, she turned to her passenger seat and saw that a half bottle of Jack Daniels sat in it. "Oh you poor baby." she cooed, putting her hand to it and picking it up. "Mommy left you all alone in the car all night, and now you're cold and oh so lonely." she twisted off the cap and took a morning swig.

Very classy.

Very responsible.

Eventually she arrived over at her brother's home. She hated how creepy it was, right next to the hospital, and so close to the cemetery. How morbid it was, that everyone that they couldn't save at the hospital got tossed just across the street in a dirt pile. Montana shook her head, pounding on the door loudly. "Are you both awake? I wanted to take you for breakfast." she called out, looking around for a fake rock or welcome mat that an extra key could be under. She doubted Charles would be so thoughtful, to let his only sister have a key to the house. Pounding again, she waited for any type of response.

Jax had been up since 0600. In the Marines he would have been up about two hours earlier on a good day, but civilian law enforcement had its perks. He had dressed in his Sheriff's uniform, pressed, clean, and it formed to his body like a second skin. The man put on his sheriff's hat backwards as he stepped outside of his home with a mug of coffee. Another little rebellion just because he was the Sheriff and no one could tell he couldn't have his ballcap on backwards. Jax saw the mayor of Ashenport's house and thought he saw movement within. Probably the mayor herself preparing for the day.

Jax walked over to his truck which had the word 'Sheriff' printed on the side. It was a nice ride, a little old but she got the job done. He got in and started her up, deciding he would ride around town for a while making sure all was nice and quiet before heading to the HQ. After all, he was the only law enforcement in Ashenport today.

The truck pulled out of the drive and he crusied through town, where he saw Ashenport's few citizens start to stir, It always struck him on how strange it was for him to be back in this town. He was born here, sure, but after that he had never really spent all that much time here. Shortly after he was born, his mother moved upstate to the Naval Base, Fort Rickon (Which at a population of 40,000, was the largest town in the county.) And that was that. The base had a beach so they had no reason to go back to Ashenport and even if they did, they moved when he was 6 to an even larger Naval base in another state altogether. No, it was only after he left the Marine Corps that he came back to this county and that's how he ended up where he is today, patrolling this tiny fishing town.

Jax saw Montana Clayton at her brother's home, she had an...interesting reputation and in a county so small, Jax knew something about everyone. He pulled over to the curb in front of her brother's house and stepped out, closing the door behind him and walking to the other end of the sidewalk and saying loudly for her to hear "Everything all right, Miss Clayton?"

@MissCapnCrunch

Angela had awakened to her alarm clock going off and she heard the dogs coming down the hall. She barely covered her head in time as the two black labs bounded up onto the bed and tried to dig her out of it. The larger one was more adamant that she get up. He knew the alarm meant his mom was going to get him food. She had to push him off just to get up. The female was smaller and she happily trotted after them as she went to the kitchen and filled their bowls. Angela started the coffee pot and went back to her room to go get into the shower.After getting herself ready for the day she made sure the dogs water and food were sufficiently filled and that they dog door was functional as she did every morning and she left for the store.

This morning she felt like walking so she waved at random citizens if they waved to her. Drinking her coffee on the way to work was perfect. She loved owning her store. It allowed her to do things that other jobs wouldn't allow. One of her favorite things was being able to slip her shoes off behind the scenes. She knew it was silly but she was at work so much and she hated wearing shoes that long. She kept a pair of sneakers at work for the delivery days, like today. The truck would be there to restock at around 10.

A few moments later Angela arrived at her store and she opened the door and started her day. Her employees were there and got to work straight away. Angela went to the back looking up and down the aisles for anything out of place and she grabbed the broom. Every night it seemed that the wind would put whatever was flying around out there right in front of the store so she had made it another part of her routine to sweep out front of the store every morning.

'We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and when...'

That was what Thomas always heard at the start of his mornings, at least ever since Metal Gear Solid V came out and he set his alarm clock to play The Man Who Sold The World. Made him feel like Big Boss waking up from the nine year coma. Anyhow, after adjusting his eyes to the morning light and looking around a bit, he sits up and stretches, yawning. "Although I wasn't there, he said I was his frie--" The song was interrupted by Thomas hitting the snooze on his alarm clock.

With a sigh, Thomas threw off his boxers, put on a new pair, and walked into the kitchen. He started his coffee maker, slipping back into the bedroom to put on a shirt and pants while it was, well, making the coffee, then walked back out just as it finished. He poured himself some coffee in a mug that reads 'World's #1 Jackass' (self-deprecational humor always lightens him up), then set it down on his table as he went back into his room to grab some socks, slid them on, then walked back out, grabbing the cup and stepping into his loafers before walking out to the hotel lobby.

Thomas didn't like playing receptionist, but until he could afford one that was what he was stuck doing. And if he got bored, he could just leave a card with his number there and leave. Just as he sat down in his chair, one of the residents, Montana Clayton, better known as the town drunk, walked out of her room, more than likely leaving behind a young man who would emerge later, confused as to where she went. "Have a good one Tommy, see you later!" she said. God, he hates being called Tommy. He made an exception for select few, like mom or a girlfriend/boyfriend... Or Harry and dad. Thomas shakes the thought off, 'too early in the day to cry my eyes out', he thinks. Besides, she left too fast for him to reply. With a sip from his mug, Thomas settled into his chair and sighed. He really needed to hire a receptionist...

'Fuck it,' he thought, 'I can't do this today. Time for the card!' With that, he whipped out a card from under the desk, reading 'The receptionist is out, call this number if you want to book a room: 867-5309'. God he hated having that number. Dumbasses always called asking for Jenny. One of these days he's gonna change it. Then again, that might go as well as his quest for a receptionist. As he walked to the door, Thomas sang: "I want to marry a lighthouse keeper, and keep him company. I want to marry a lighthouse keeper, and live by the side of the sea..." And he continued to sing until he reached the gas station.

Ahh, the gas station. Thomas' least favorite person worked here: Noel Bunker. For some reason, he just hates the kid. Kind of screwed up, considering he's a twenty-something man feuding with a teenager. He thinks that it all started when his blatter was about to burst, and the closest place was the gas station. "HELP!" He said to Noel as he ran to the bathroom, "I NEED TO PEE REALLY BAD!" The doorman, a young Asian kid, said that he needed to buy something first. After a bit of arguing back and forth, Thomas' blatter almost burst and he ran to a bush, just barely managing to open his fly in time to pee in it. And, just his luck, the sheriff happened to drive by. He arrested Thomas for indecent exposure and Thomas spent the night in jail. Needless to say, that made Thomas hate Noel. The feeling's probably mutual.

Groaning at the memory, Thomas grabbed a one liter of Coke and a bag of chips. He put them on the counter, letting the guy scan them, then paid the required amount. As he walked past Noel, he stopped, then asked: "So, refuse to let anyone into the bathroom recently?"

@Bombardier

Cameron had woke up that morning feeling rested, to say the least, despite the fact that she had stayed up later than usual. She had took a shower, brushed her teeth, got dressed and dried her hair in a matter of about thirty minutes. Cameron absently minded thought that she didn't hear her father moving around. Perhaps he was still asleep or out in the town somewhere. She walked across the cold hard wood floors barefoot to her bedroom, leaving the door open behind her. She took a deep breath. What did her father have planned today? Perhaps nothing, in which case she would call up some of her friends. Surely they could figure something out. Cameron grabbed a book off her shelf, opening it to the last page she had left off on and plopping down on her bed. She quickly lost herself in the story. The sound of a car pulling up in the drive caught her attention as she looked up for a split second. There was the possibility that it was no one. People turned around in the drive all the time. Brushing the feeling off, she returned to her book. That was until she heard someone rummaging around outside, along with the sound of her Aunts voice and knocking on the door. She quickly closed her book and walked to the door, opening it with a smile on her face to find her aunt looking around for something.

"Could we go for pancakes Aunt Mo," she asked as another vehicle pulled into the drive. It was the Sheriffs truck, evident by the official word painted on the side. Cameron raised an eyebrow in suspicion as the Sheriff got out of his truck, asking his aunt if anything was wrong. "Everything's fine here, Sheriff," she answered herself. "Anything we can help you with this morning?"

Father Coughlin

In total darkness, Coughlin abruptly woke, gasping in the quiet of his room. Another night terror had ushered him to the waking world. Rolling over in his bed, the clinking of beer bottles accompanied his movement, a few falling unto the floor, Coughlin reached out for his lamp, flicking it on. With the light came the pain, as he recoiled from the sudden brightness and the realization of his activities the night before, the evidence in the form of empty food wrappers, various glasses of liquor, and of course beer bottles.

Peeking over the edge of his bed, broken glass welcomed his bare feet and he felt relief that he had the foresight to looking first. He was not always so lucky. Cursing under his breath, he pushed himself up and gingerly stepped over the sharp shards, retreating to his bathroom for a trash bag to clean up his mess. After doing the customary tidying up, Coughlin took a quick shower and donned his traditional attire - simple black dress pants and his clerical shirt-collar combination. It was the quintessential Coughlin outfit. Its crisp and well-maintained appearance thoroughly contrasted with the man underneath.

By the time he left his house, it was well past the early morning; thank God it wasn't a Sunday. Of course, the Sheriff - Coughlin's neighbor - was gone, being the boy scout early-riser that he was. Coughlin admired the man and regarded him with all due respect, but he'd be damned to wake up that early. Turning away from his home, he set off on foot, his destination the general store. Restocking his supplies of alcohol was always a hassle, involving awkwardly spun lies to hide his rampant addiction. Usually he chose odd-hours to avoid the brunt of onlookers, potential members of his church that would have all sorts of nosy questions. But he was in dire need of a drink for the night to come, to calm him before Sunday service and for the nightmares to come in his sleep. They always seemed to flare up right before holy days. Hopefully that didn't mean anything.

His walk there was as usual, slow and full of chatter. Most everyone from church who saw him just had to give their two-cents about what his next sermon should be or who was going to hell or what verse would he share. Feeling particularly bad, the good Father made sure to impart the horrors of the Book of Revelation to those who deigned to waylay him. As he neared the general store, his bad leg began to act up from old injury, and by the time he was at the front door, he had to stop and take a quick rest, leaning on the wall while rubbing his leg. Silently, he ran through a myriad of curses and blasphemies in internal anger.

6 AM and he was out the door. Unlike some people in this town, like Mo, he had work to do. He left a glass full of milky water in the sink and some toast crumbs to prove he had left or even been there that morning. On the calender was a small note: Sat, G.Y.6-9

Out at the graveyard, Chuck was using a push mower to clear away the lawns. Oh sure, there was a noisy gas monstrosity in the shed but he liked the quiet peace of the crisp morning and he didn't want to disturb the dead. Usually the weekends were when most came to visit their families out here, either saturday afternoon or sunday after church. It always struck him odd that the hospital was so close to the yard but the church was so far away. Clinically it made sense to dump the dead right outside, but the superstitious part of him pondered where holy ground started and ended.

This train of thought started to drift to Clementine. Her plot, provided by the hospital as she was the wife of an employee, was always the last one he cleaned off as he had his confessional/communion with her. He sat down in the grass then propped himself up against her toombstone as he cracked open a bottle and had himself a long slow swig.

"I had to drive to the next county for these, there is just something about coke from a glass bottle. Vicky got a B in math, did you know they are doing stuff now as freshman we did as seniors? I ain't seen her looking at anyone in particular yet, but I ain't seen anyone looking at her in a good way either. Its my fault, last kid who liked her was a wrestling fan, he just wanted some credit for dating 'the undertakers' daughter. He'd have been better off watching monster trucks... I need a new job, I need to get this graveyard off of her name. She needs to be more than the gravediggers daughter... I saw mo last night, she was heading to her hotel with some guy who blew his radiator yesterday, he'll probably be here till monday waiting for the new piece. Jeb will probably get me to ride out for the radiator today, I'll grab some more cokes then. I'm gonna grab a shower and go to jebs now, I'll get Vicky something while i'm out. Love ya darling,"
He wiped the tears from his eyes and headed to the house just in time to see the sherrif truck. His heart hit his stomach as he started jogging up the path. "Please don't be Mo, Please don't be Mo, Please don't be Mo." He came around the lip just to see vicky, the sheriff and his sister all present. "Alright officer, what did she do? Steal cookies and milk, cheat on a test?" His tone was the same when he bailed out his sister, but the words were clearly aimed elsewhere.

"I remember this road, I can still see the skid marks." Alex thought to himself, as he road along the road that changed his life forever, and ate up 11 years of his life. It's scarred into his mind, etched and aching as much as his fucked up leg. "This was the way to Ashenvale, huh?" Never lived a day here, and yet, my short excursion was enough to take the lives of my friends, plus a woman I never knew. Amazing how things can get so fucked, so quick.

He drove into the town, a place he's never been too. Seeing an empty parking lot near the gas station, he of course drove there, and turned off the car. He then checked his beloved Flo, who's sleeping like an angel. Everything's nice and calm, and yet, Alex was stressed beyond relief. "Alex, time to face the flames. Head on in, say your piece, get on out. Get it over with, and finally be rid of guilt."

With one big inhale and sigh, he walked out of the RV, and straight into the Gas Station. "Um, excuse me? I'm new here, may I ask for some help? I'd like some directions to the local graveyard, I've got some things to say, then I'll be heading on out."

@Simple Unicycle@Bombardier

Bee-dee-dee-deep! Bee-dee-dee-deep!

Arm sluggishly hefted up, Noel flopped a finger down onto the phone's snooze button before opening his eyes to a blurry abstract collage of white, brown, and red, which is a fancy way of saying the boy couldn't see shit. The same hand blindly grabbed around his nightstand until his glasses came into reach so he could place them onto his face. Now able to see shit, a nude Noel got up 'n' out of bed with a groan. Saturday; he would have that much more free time to ponder why he isn't spending it with friends. Luckily work serves as a good enough distraction from that thought, and after some looking through his drawers the gas station attendant put on his usual work attire and left his bedroom.

"Dad?"

No response. Although, it isn't because his dad wasn't home, for he was where he always was, sitting on the hard recliner by the fireplace.

"Do you want me to make you breakfast?"

Still, no response. With the exception of the sound of logs burning, the house was as it usually was, silent. Noel was used to not getting any responses back at this point, so he shrugged it off and walked into the kitchen to make eggs and toast for his father, as he did every morning. Even though his dad only ate an unhealthily small portion of the meals cooked for him every time, Noel continued to cook him a plateful every meal in hopes that one day he'd come home to see the sheen of an empty plate. It hasn't happened in a long while, but when it does Noel will be overflowing with joy.

Eggs and toast done, Noel placed the full plate onto the table before collecting a few of his things: a map of Ashenport, his phone, his wallet, his keys, and a utility knife. After grabbing his bike from the wall and opening the door Noel looked back to his father, or rather the back of his chair, and spoke.

"I'm gonna be going to work now. If you need anything just call me, alright Dad?"
"Have a good day at work."

And with that, Noel rode his bike off to the gas station. Ah Ashenport, even gazing at a small part of his hometown on his bike rides to work gave him good vibes, plus the spooky forest could only get farther away as he moved. Unlike the majority of the population, the asian teenager was excited for work! Tying his bike up, punching in, and hopping behind the counter, the world was about to receive as much customer support, swift service, and polite, albeit a bit awkward, demeanour it can handle.

The day continued on rather blandly. He sold things. He prevented some people from going into the bathroom unless they purchased something, effectively determining who peed and who died. He sold more things. It was just the usual.

Well, then he walked in. The man, the mogul, the wetter of bushes, the fat cat who can't spare two quarters for gum, it was Thomas Richard Roosevelt. The guy hates him for simply enforcing the rules his manager told him too, and Noel can't help but be bitter back. There are rules that employees have to obey, not that Tommy knew anything about that. He's a rich mogul who probably hasn't worked a day in his life and is too cheap to spare two quarters.. just not Noel's kind of person. Seeing the same sign telling people to call a number because Thomas is either too cheap to hire a receptionist or too lazy to disgrace himself with presence of peasants only further asserts his preconceived notions about the guy.

Regardless, Noel served him as he would any customer, not really trying to incite something with anyone, before going back to waiting for the next.
"So, refuse to let anyone into the bathroom recently?"

"...Only two people today, so far." Noel said, blinking a few times. It took him a couple seconds to realize Thomas was trying to talk junk.
"I mean! I d-don't know, sir. Perhaps you should try asking the Sheriff."

Noel grabbed his glasses by a corner and adjusted them. He wouldn't say such things normally, and would normally be terrified of retaliation but the conditions within the Gas Station allowed him a bit of bravery. The same cameras that were used for security reasons provided him with some comfort in that all they would see is a fully grown man beating the shit out of some asian kid, all audio recordings suggesting the quintessential good employee provoked him being nonexistent.

"Um, excuse me? I'm new here, may I ask for some help? I'd like some directions to the local graveyard, I've got some things to say, then I'll be heading on out." Some new guy asked after he walked into the gas station.

"Of course, sir. You just keep going straight until you see the jail, then take a left and a right afterward. If you see the mayor's house you're on the right track. Keep on following that trail until you're along the road that leads to the hospital. The cemetery is right by it." Noel reached into his back pocket and retrieved his map. "Here. You'll need it more than I do, sir. By the way, we're having a sale on gum, just 48 cents."

"... Only two people today, so far." Noel said, then blinked a few times. Thomas then saw the realization on his face. Yeah, Thomas was trying to talk junk. "I mean! I d-don't know, sir. Perhaps you should try asking the sheriff." Thomas held back a laugh. Alright, that was a good one. Still didn't mean he hated the kid any less. "Funny, kid. There may be hope for you yet."

Earlier, an RV pulled up to the gas station. Thomas didn't pay any mind to it, but then a young man walked out of it. He was limping, so he probably had an old wound or something. Maybe he needs to use the bathroom. Maybe not. Anyhow, he walked up to Noel and Thomas, then said: "Um, excuse me? I'm new here, may I ask for some help? I'd like some directions to the local graveyard, I've got some things to say, then I'll be heading out."

'Interesting,' Thomas thought, 'has something to say? In a graveyard? What, to a grave? Maybe he's not new here...' Nonetheless, he doesn't push it. Noel then told the guy the directions, and Thomas nodded. "Yeah, that's the fastest way there." Then Noel said something about a sale on gum. "Fucking jackass..." Thomas muttered, before walking away and back to his hotel.

Back at the hotel, Thomas plucked up the card, walked around the desk, sat in the chair and threw the card back into its usual spot. Thomas then pulled out his phone and earbuds, put the earbuds in, well, his ears, and turned on some music. He then leaned back and closed his eyes. Hopefully no one wants to book a room today. He just wants to relax.

Yeeeeeaaaaaah, that's not gonna happen probably.

Angela was in the back stock room. They had just received the delivery truck so she was counting the new inventory. "Thanks Mack." She said as the driver tipped his hat to her and smiled. She watched as he hopped back into the truck and pulled out.

There was nothing unusual about this day up until now. She was standing in the doorway of the stockroom and looking at paperwork from the delivery when she heard things falling and glass shattering. It was so loud she jumped and the stock boy in the front of the store yelled "Angela! Are you okay?" Angela walked back into the room and walked slowly past each aisle looking for what had broken. One can imagine the surprise on her face when she found everything on aisle 14 of the storage room on the floor as if it had been thrown down and everything made of glass had broken. The stock boy Jarod came into the room behind her. "Holy shit! How does something like that happen?" Angela looked a little perplexed, "The hell if I know."

She finished her search and went back. "Jarod, go call Jax and ask him to come over here. I want to get his opinion on this. It's kind of creepy. All of the bolts are still bolted tight. There is only the one entrance and I was standing in it. These shelves go to the wall and there is nowhere to hide. Mack and I unloaded this stuff together and it was all at least 4 inches from the edge. Since there was no earthquake...I'm baffled. And for God's sake don't tell any of the customers, just close the store for now. Check the ones in the store but that's it til Jax and I decide what the hell this was." She pulled her hair back out of habit and frustration.

@The Dow Dragon@MissCapnCrunch

Looking about, Sean found himself in the woods. It was late, far later than he remembered. Casting his gaze out to the crowded space filled with towering lumber, Sean felt tiny, almost insignificant here. That feeling only grew as he noticed how still and silent things were here. He could hear his breathing with each inhale, his own heartbeat as blood was pumped through his body. Moments like these were why he could never be alone out in the forest, no matter how much he may distrust someone. Through the silence, there was a scream, one that brought back those bloody memories. The man started to wander what used to be his favored environment, head snapping side to side at every noise that sprung up. It seemed like he had been walking for hours, not sure of the time.

By then, the noises had stopped, but his paranoia filled the gaps. He could tell his heart was racing now, his breaths shallow as he could feel his chest tighten, as if a vice was crushing it slowly. If he had managed to keep a handle of himself, maybe he would have heard the sickly sound of flesh scraping along the ground. He stood stock still as over his panic attack that was closing in, a loud, wet 'twang' could be heard. Within moments a severed arm shot from the overbearing darkness, the sickly cold and clammy fingers digging into his neck, closing down on his neck.

That's when the lumberjack shot up from his bed, a cold sweat on his brow. As he sat up, trying to catch his breath, Sean reached over to his bedside table. Hands quaked as they snatched up a pill bottle, nearly spilling the medicine across the floor as he took two out, downing them with little thought. It would take some time for them to kick in, but at least they helped, somewhat.

"Wonderful, they're back... Thought I got rid of 'em years back..."

Sean's voice was resigned as he got himself out of bed, making a simple breakfast for himself before heading to his usual morning preparations. It was Saturday and a little later than he would have wanted to wake up, but with what he had just gone through, he could understand. At least he didn't have to work, even if he would check in there as he always did. It never hurt at least.

After dressing in a simple white tee, with a button down flannel tossed over and a casual pair of jeans, Sean stood at his door for some time before unlocking each of the safeguards on his door. Many probably thought it so very strange he had so many locks on his door, but he couldn't help it. They gave him some relief. He nearly stepped out of his home before grabbing his ax. He made sure that the blade was covered by a guard and hooked a leather loop that was just under the head to his belt, keeping the tool on his hip, as he always did. Another quirk of his, but it kept him feeling relatively more comfortable.

Heading off from his home after locking each of his locks, the lumberjack crossed the street to his place of employment. It was a quick visit, as only his boss was there, working on the plans for the next week. With a short conversation about that, Sean was soon out on the sidewalk. He needed to head to the hotel. His boss, though fully knowing he wasn't working today, asked a favor of him. Nothing hard, just checking on a couple of the workers from the mill. He had a vehicle, but he only preferred to use it on longer trips, leaning towards walking most the time.

Being fairly new in town, Sean didn't quite know most people, and those he did know, he didn't know them well. He wanted to meet more people in town, though he was always wary, never sure of who he could trust. There was something in his head, some paranoid tick that just wouldn't let him trust anyone, at least not easily. From that stemmed his lacking in social interactions.

Without wasting any more time, Sean headed off to the hotel, though it wasn't all that far away.

As if she had a tracker attached to her inner thigh, the voice of the sheriff came from behind her. A big shit eating grin spread across her face as she was about to let him know what she thought about him coming to her at her where her family stayed, and how she had every right to be here. She didn't think about her open bottle of alcohol in her car or how she had drove the entire way drinking it, probably at least 10 miles per hour over the speed limit.

"Could we go for pancakes Aunt Mo?"

Ah, Montana's savior from trouble for the day, her niece. She turned to look at the Sheriff and waved as Cameron spoke to him. Mo then wrapped her arm around her shoulders and gave her a tight squeeze. "Pancakes at the diner sound good to you?" she smiled, "I even have a present for you in the car. Picked it up for you last night." she mentioned, feeling proud of herself. The woman could barely take care of herself, but she sure knew how to take care of her niece.

Like clockwork Charles came running along, and the way he spoke took Montana back to her teen years. "Aw come on, we didn't do anything, yet." she smirked. "Only reason Jax here asking questions is my own God damn brother won't give me a key, so I have to knock like a beggar!" Mo exclaimed, looking to Cameron for sympathy, though she did not deserve it. Walking down a couple of the steps, she spoke again "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm here to take my niece and I guess my brother out for breakfast. My treat." Montana walked to her car, and cleared off the open bottle and some trash from the front seat and threw it in the back. Taking the present off the seat and bringing it up front for Cameron to sit there next to her. It was a book that she had been asking for recently, and Montana had picked it up off Amazon in a pre-order earlier in the week. She hoped she hadn't gotten it yet, and that she would like it.

Rolling down the window, "Come on baby girl, you get shotgun, your old man can sit in the back." Mo called out to the two. She hoped Jax would be on his way and she wouldn't have to worry about him anymore today. The radio chirping within his car would dictate that he had somewhere else to go, so she might be in luck.

Jax saw Montana walk to her car with her niece and heard a familiar voice crackle from his truck.

"Ay Boss, got a call!" It was a Henrietta, a young woman who acted as the radio operator for the county. She wasn't technically a sheriff's deputy or part of any law enforcement, but the county hired her and that was good enough for Jax.

Jax glanced suspiciously back at Montana and walked over to his truck, leaning in and taking the receiver "What's up?" he asked. "Miss Sinclair's shop had a break in...while she and the hired help were still there." Jax frowned. "Really? Alright, I'll be over quick as I can."

Jax took one last look at Montana, who was infuriatingly smiling at him standing beside her car. Well, there goes my first pick he thought as he got into his truck and drove away. Not a lot of robberies in a tiny town like this, usually because everyone knew each other and beside being friends (for the most part anyway) it would be impossible to get away with. But Angela must have seen something, she's a smart woman. Jax allowed himself a little smile, he had always liked Angela, they had talked a little before but he took to her immediately. It would be nice to see her again, even it is under somewhat grim circumstances.

Jax pulled up to Angela's store and got out, putting his hands on his belt and walking up to the door, giving a rapt knock.

@MissCapnCrunch@Wick

Father Coughlin

Having gotten himself up and walked all the way to the General Store, Father Coughlin was in a poor mood, only compounded when he finally reached the front door to find it locked with his early-rising neighbor Sheriff Lodrick knocking on it. Again cursing under his breath, he lingered around the corner where he had been standing, rubbing his limping leg, before he finally decided to figure out what the deal was, and more importantly, when he could get in, grab his booze, and get out. With a casual stroll, he approached the Sheriff before speaking softly in greeting.

"Hello there neighbor, what seems to be the problem? Nothing too serious I hope, eh Sheriff?"

Nothing serious would mean he could get back home as soon as possible. And the thought of the Sheriff of all people seeing the good Father gathering up a stockpile of alcohol would not be the best outcome by any means. Not that Coughlin thought Lodrick was a gossip, but the less people knew about his habits, the better, much less the law of the land himself.

@Wick@The Dow Dragon

Angela opened the door. She had been waiting patiently. Jarod was standing near her straightening product on the shelves. Seeing the father with him at the door she said, "Jarod go ahead and let the father get what he needs then lock the door back." She allowed the father in and locked the door behind him. "It's back this way Jax."

When she got to the entrance to the storage room she stopped. "Mack and I unloaded the truck like we do every time. He drove off and I was standing right here looking at the delivery paperwork. Jarod was up front by the cash register. I could see him. This is the only entrance into this room and I was standing in it when it sounded like shattering glass and stuff falling. Jarod yelled and came running and I started into the room. Everything was in perfect order except for aisle 14. I left it just they way it looked when it happened. I wanted you to see it."

Angela pointed out the way everything was at least 4 inches from the edges of the shelves everywhere else to show how she normally keeps her stockroom. Other than aisle 14 it was immaculate. "All of the aisles shelves go straight to the wall. I looked and all of the bolts seem to be tight, nothing is shaky or loose. No one is or was hiding in there."

Once they got to 14 she stopped and sighed in frustration at the mess. All of the carefully shelved glass jars of pickles, spaghetti sauce, green olives and baby food were broken and splattered all over the floor. The flour bags were busted open and the salt was broken open. Miscellaneous other things were broken and adding to the oozing slippery mess. There was nothing left on the shelf at all. "This is the only aisle that anything is moved on. Everything else is perfect." She let him look around and check things out on his own. After a few minutes she asked him, "Any ideas on what could have done this?"

@The Dow Dragon@misscapncrunch@Noco

Jax nodded to the priest as he came up the sidewalk.

"Hello there neighbor, what seems to be the problem? Nothing too serious I hope, eh Sheriff?"

Jax didn't say anything and was grateful that Angela was at the door quickly, he'd rather not start a conversation just outside a crime scene. Jax followed Angela to the aisle and listened as she recalled the morning. It was bizarre, no means of entry or exit without anyone seeing them and nothing seemed to be stolen but every item in the aisle was strewn about. He considered utilities and if a vibration could knock anything over. But he immediately dismissed, something that major would knock out the entire power grid for the county. Jax carefully stepped his way into the aisle and inspected the shelves for any irregularities and found none. He picked up a bottle of water and looked up and down the aisle, tossing it into the air.

Jax looked at the ceiling and noticed something. A ceiling tile was loose, looser than any other tile in the ceiling. He pointed to it and asked "What's up there?"

@Noco@Wick@MissCapnCrunch

Father Coughlin

Giving an appreciative nod to Angela, Coughlin shuffled through some meaningless aisles, not wanting to seem so eager to get into the alcohol. Grabbing first a loaf of bread, then grabbing a few packages of assorted candies for the orphanage - a prized commodity among the children - Coughlin walked with a false sense of casual grace as he made his way over to the hard liquors. After a quick decision, he snatched up a bottle of vodka, hopefully non-descript enough to not warrant too much attention.

With his items in tow, he began to walk towards the counter, although he was stopped by the peculiar stares of the Sheriff. It was not every day you saw someone stare at a ceiling.

"There some sort of critter up there? Raccoons love to terrorize ME at least..."

At that point, Coughlin noticed the haphazard nature of the aisle and quieted down, a little less sure than he should be joking. Awkwardly, he shifted some of the items in his arms, suddenly aware that his precious vodka could be seen a little too prominently. He silently hoped that the good Sheriff and Angela were too busy to pay much heed.

@Wick@The Dow Dragon

Luckily her father walked up just in time, making one of his classic jokes. Seeing him coming around the front of the truck, the girl would shoot a smile his way. When Montana responded, agreeing with her idea for pancakes, she heard the sound of the radio in the Sheriffs car, apparently at the same time he did, as he headed that way. "Awesome! Imma go get my shoes real fast," she said, offering a response to Mo's words, before hearing the womans remark about the seating arangement, to which she laughed. Cameron turned away from the small group gathering in the yard, walking through the house once more to grab her high-topped Vans from beside her bed before quickly slipping them on, heading back out the door again, just in time to see Mo getting in the car. She followed her Aunt's lead, getting into the passenger side of the car, but not before seeing the packaged present that her aunt had graciously brought along.

Sitting down in the seat, she eagerly tore the package open to find the book that she had been waiting ages to come out: Magnus Chase and The Gods of Asgard: The Hammer of Thor, the newest of Riordan's works. Seeing the book, her face lit up with a smile as she leaned across the car, giving her favorite aunt a huge hug. "Oh my gosh! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Angela looked up at what Jax was staring at and said, "Nothing is up there. The ceiling is lowered by about 6 inches to hide electrical wiring and to make it look better. I bumped that tile when I loaded the top of the shelf." Angela noticed Father Coughlin had made his way into the back stockroom and was staring at the aisle and the ceiling tile. This irritated her as he wasn't supposed to be in the store to begin with and now he was just being nosey.

Angela stepped forward and said, "Father, we are looking into something important at the moment. Is there something I could do to help you? Did you not find what you were looking for?" She eyed the bottle of alcohol for a second longer than she needed to.

@Noco@The Dow Dragon