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Darkness. Everywhere there should have been sensation, there was only darkness.

Occasionally there would be a moment where only the weakest imitation of the senses would gently fill the void - a blurry vision, a faded sound, a hint of pain - but like dreams, the more he tried to chase any particular thread the more they eluded him, dissipating into the void from whence they came.

Slowly, he began to piece the fleeting impressions together. He was in some sort of speakeasy - no, [i]a tavern...[/i] There was... Screaming? Cries of some sort? Shadows morphing into figures -  No, not just any figures, scarecrows! That's right, he was in the tavern when suddenly he was set upon by...

[i][color=0072bc]Oh, shit.[/color][/i]

Hardwick opened his eyes. The straw man was standing over him, a terrible clawed hand rising back to prepare one last fatal strike. He struggled to move, but the pain and broken timbers atop him limited any attempt at escape to a weak and feeble writhing upon the floor.

[color=0072bc][i]But maybe I don't have to escape...[/i][/color]

Hardwick stopped moving and glanced one last time at the creature's claw. Timing was key.

With a snarl, the straw man brought his claw down towards the detective. Hardwick used what little energy remained in his battered body to shift ever so slightly to thr right, and closed his eyes in anticipation.

The claw struck the wood, shattering most of it into thousands of tiny splinters and cleaving down through the pile to embedded itself in the floor. Had it been a second sooner, the beast would have pierced clean through Hardwick's chest but for now the claw sat barely an inch from his abdomen.

With the timbers no longer posing an issue, adrenaline surged through Hardwick's body. He scrambled from beneath the broken wood and crawled frantically behind the bar while the straw man desperately tried to tug it's claw free. Rows of strange bottles containing all mannner of liquor lined the shelves, many of which bore labels in languages that Hardwick couldn't decipher let alone recognise. Before too long he found his eyes drawn to one in particular, a familiar name printed in large letters upon the bottle: [i]Sambuca.[/i]

He looked around. The dwarfish bartender from earlier was no-where to be found, nor was Ayeka. Beyond the safety of the bar, he could hear the little girl crying as two men (if you could call the first voice a man's) argued over whether or not she should be killed. The screaming of patrons and horrible rattling cries of the straw men were much dimmer here, and for the first time since the little girl showed up in the tavern Hardwick felt an odd sense of calm wash over him.

The serenity was short-lived. A huge claw placed itself on the bar and began dragging along the polished wood towards his hiding place. Hardwick picked up the Sambuca and weighed the bottle in his hands. It was relatively heavy - At some point it had been opened, but hardly any of it had been consumed. It would make a fine projectile, but he'd only have one chance to strike the straw man...

Strangely enough, there was a break in the bedlam. The screams fell silent, the growls faded away and the tavern fell strangely quiet. Even the horrible claw ceased its advance briefly. A voice called out, strange power accenting every word:

[b][i][color=0054a6]'Alright, it's getting late. Time for young children to go home.'[/color][/i][/b]

There was a brief shuffling of small, cloth-lined feet and the resounding *thunk* of the tavern door being closed, sealing their realm off from the nightmares that lay beyond. Footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor as a man Hardwick had never seen walked behind the bar to fetch a bottle of wine and a glass. He glanced at Hardwick and regarded him with a nod and courteous smile before leaving, thick-soled shoes creaking on the tavern stairs as he ascended.

The silence that followed seemed to last an eternity. Finally, Hardwick shakily got to his feet and looked out across the tavern, confused patrons and straw men alike looking at each other. The straw man in front of him turned slowly and let out a weak growl.

Hardwick sighed and grabbed a candle sitting atop the bar and used it to light the alcohol in the bottle. [color=0072bc]'Oh Christ, just fuck off and give it a rest already'[/color] He said through gritted teeth, and hurled the still-burning bottle into the straw man, setting it alight.