Despite popular opinion it is not always windy in Chicago. On this day it is actually incredibly quiet, while normal people would not really recognize the silence, for the supernatural inhabitants of the city it is quite different. It was not a normal silence, it was a silence before a storm. The streets were still quite empty and the sky was as black.
The small hand drawn sign for a local funeral home was bathed in the light of a bar on the other site of the street. "For our dearly missed" it read, the rest of it was to withered to be readable. But still this place was a beacon, a beacon for beings that were born of death. Psychopomps, Reapers or Revenants whatever you would call them here they were drawn to. A small group was actually destined to arrive there at any moment, they slowly walked through the door one after another, each together with their Memento Mori.
Everyone of the Revenants that just arrived walked or otherwise travelled to this place in a state of complete apathy, without eating or drinking or resting.
And now they came through that door and their minds got out of that haze, they finally arrived. They truly realized where they were. And they saw an unfamiliar face sitting right in front of them. A old white man in a black suit and tie sat on a small couch in front of several chairs.
"Hello my children, I am George. Please, take a seat. Rest a minute. You must have questions and I have answers. But first, how about you tell me something about yourselves? Now don't be afraid..."

---

The most overdressed member of the living dead in the room blinks, considering the timeliness of her arrival and the vaguely unnatural tone of the situation as a whole. Then, not being one to refuse a chair given, she sits down in one of the seats closest to the wall. "Well," she starts, fixing her sub-zero gaze on the man who she presumed was her host. "I'm Mariah, and I'm pretty sure I'm dead. Actually, scratch that, I'm totally dead. Is that your doing, Suit?"

"Now now, Mariah. I'm sure that Mister Suit is a perfectly nice old gentleman~" Sunny admonishes her host in a sing-song voice, resting her head comfortably on Mariah's shoulder. She manages to break her eyes away from the subject of her affections for long enough to give George a quick once-over, smiling in his direction before returning to doting over a sighing, resigned Mariah.

"Alright, play nice with the guy who probably killed me. Got it, Sunny. I am really, so glad to have you around."

"So," turning from her Memento Mori before she could start pouting at her.

"Serve any drinks in this place?"

~ Kimberly Haynes ~

@The Narrator

As the haze cleared from Kimberly's mind, one thought came rushing back.

A child's scream carrying on the sea air. Wide, terrified eyes staring out from under wet hair. Arms clinging to a rock. A face, pale with cold and shock, disappearing into the distance. Then, nothing but murky water.

"Amy!" That jolt of horror returned full-force as Kimberly turned her head this way and that, trying to figure out where she was and what had happened - even though, deep down, she knew. "My daughter, Amy, where is she? What happened to her?"

She pulled back, eyes wide, as something slithered in front of her. Something she'd been vaguely aware of for the entire journey, but whose presence she'd only just truly acknowledged. "Shhhh," it said, in a voice like the hissing of waves on the shore. The sea serpent raised its head, giving her a blood-red gaze. "Your daughter survived. Thanks to you, the lifeguards reached her in time. Too bad the same can't be said for you."

Kimberly took another step back, mixed emotions surging through her. Amy was alive... but what was this huge, scaly creature doing here? Why had she let it follow her? Who was this old man? And if it was true, if she was... if she hadn't made it... then why had she come back? Despite having travelled all the way here, she didn't feel cold, or hungry, or tired. Was she a ghost? She looked down. She was completely solid, and could feel the floor under her feet. What was she, then?

I know what I am, she told herself. She had to be rational about this. I'm a perfectly ordinary, living human having a nightmare. Soon I'll wake up, and everything will be back to normal... She'd never had a dream this vivid, though. Never.

Turning towards the man, she took a deep breath. She was dead, and yet she was still breathing, still standing... why? "Please," she said, in as steady and cool a tone as she could. "Tell me what's going on here."

-

@The Narrator



As the foggy haze cleared from Andrew's mind he only had a second to process what had happened to him. It was pretty evident, as the Armani suit he wore was ripped up to near shreds, some parts barely hanging on his body. Guess being torn apart by a pack of wolves wasn't too bad. Andrew thought to himself. Looking around he realizes the situation he was in: almost completely exposed surrounded by women and weird spirit creatures. Oh And that one creepy old dude.
"If I knew I was going to be surrounded by so many beauties I would have tidied myself up first." Andrew smirked. He fixed his hair and straightened up which subtly showed off his body that was barely hidden behind the tears of his clothing.

Then a voice of a collective rung out from behind him. Turning around there was a wolf, but from that wolf was more than one voice. "Mr. Morgan, now is not the time for flirtations, be serious about this."
"Alright alright." He spoke to this mysterious wolf figure.
Turning to the old man, Andrew remained standing and confronted the geezer.
"Alright old man let's just skip to our questions, where are we, what's with the ghost things, and where can I get a suit, mine is kind of ruined." Andrew stood over the man, trying to establish dominance, and to also see what brand his black suit was.

---

Mira could only vaguely comprehend what was going on, or what she believed was her reality at this point in time. There was no logical explanation for what had happened to her and what was still happening. She had come back to life after drowning in the carwreck of her boyfriend, who had made it out alive by the bravery of someone else. Mira had accepted her death, after being left behind underwater, she knew she was going to die. It was an indescribable feeling, peaceful almost.

Now here she was, seated on a chair, wearing the clothes her family had picked out for her funeral. The young woman had no idea where she was, the entire trip to this nameless location was a haze of blurred thoughts and feelings. There was no sense of time, discomfort, hunger or any other feelings she had when she was alive. Possibly even more morbid and strange than her ressurection was the person sitting next to her. A young woman, wearing a tattered white dress. She was incredibly beautiful in an otherworldly sense, yet she also seemed to be surrounded by an aura of danger. She had a guarded expression on her face, her coal black eyes narrowing in slits at the man seated infront of them. The Ula brushed her damp hair wearily, passing each strand through her slick cool fingers, as if she was spinning gold.

Mira had figured out she was the only one who could see these women, yes there were more than just the one. A different once each time but they always spoke in agreement, one voice, one mind. Most people would have passed them off as hallucinations but something told her the Ula were something else.

The man introduced himself as George and at the sound of his voice, The Ula responded instinctively, rising up from her chair. She snaked her arms around Mira's shoulders, her hair floating in the air around her, as if she was submerged underwater.
"Do not trust this man Mira, keep your silence dear sister......" The Ula hissed into her ear.

Mira listened to her, only because the Ula were her best bet right now. They were first for the lack of a better word people who were there after her ressurection. While they didn't speak much, they had kept her safe up to this point.

---

Blood on her skin, dripping with sin, do it again, living dead girl

Those lyrics were stuck on replay in Elizabeth's mind, her only source of distraction up until her, alongside a few others, came face-to-face with an older gentleman named George. When asked that they sit down, Rocky took it upon himself to place his giant hand on Elizabeth's left shoulder to guide her to the nearest seat. He had a tight grip on her, and Elizabeth couldn't help but complain.

“Hey, not so rough, okay?”

“Let me think about that for a moment...no. Stay seated.”

She shook her head and sighed, turning her attention to George and the others. “I'm with the rest of them; I believe getting some answers to our questions are of more concern now than learning each other's names...”

Elizabeth looked back over her shoulder to see Rocky standing over her with his arms crossed. Good thing he's on my side, she thought, facing forward again as she waited for a response.

~ Kimberly Haynes ~

@The Narrator @Xandrya

Frowning as she glanced around at the other people and creatures around the room, Kimberly took a seat next to a woman with dark blonde hair. She nodded at her comment. "Agreed. I take it you don't know any more than I do..."

The serpent slithered over, his body flowing like water. "I thought I told you. You're dead. Dearly departed. Six feet under. Don't you start thinking this is some kind of second chance. We've only got one purpose now, and you'll find that out soon enough."

Kimberly turned her attention back to the creature. Now she'd recovered from the initial shock, it was surprising how quickly she'd adapted to the presence of a large, sharp-fanged sea monster. It felt as if he was somehow connected to her. Part of her.

"Well, first of all," she said, a slight waver to her voice despite her effort to keep her tone and expression neutral. "Who are you?"

The monster gave her that crimson stare. "Call me Cetus," he hissed, "and you could say we're alike. Born from death. Born to bring it to those who try to escape it."

Kimberly blinked. "Wait... what?"