"Sorry I couldn't reach the phone, please leave a message and I'll get back to you." He was relieved, sure he was expecting she'd be in bed by now, but it was always nice to dodge a conversation with his mother.

"Hey mom, sorry it's so late but I'm just leaving now." As he said this he stepped out of the elevator and into the brightly lit lobby. "My flight leaves at ten tomorrow so I'll be around by dinner at your place. I sent Kenan's present ahead, text me if you got that already. I already wrapped it so just open up the shipping package and just stick it with the rest."

Just then the receptionist spied him making his way across the room and jumped up; "Hey Koda! The Director said to request records from the Academy again! We're finally hiring some new interns can you believe it?!"

Koda smirked, amused by her glee, the both of them had been conscripted many times by now to do intern-level work such as delivering papers and fetching coffee and countless other mundane task that interfered with their actual jobs here. "I'll get right on it, how many does he want?"

He paused, halfway out the door just to hear her response; "Three! But if you give him puppy dog eyes he'll push it to four I bet!"

He laughed, then called out to be heard; "Will do, bye Lauren!"

"Bye Koda, have fun! Bring me back a souvenir!" Then the tinted black doors shut and he couldn't hear nor see inside the building anymore.

"Right, what was I saying?" He asked himself, remembering he still had the phone to his ear and was leaving a message for his mother. "Oh yeah, see you tomorrow, text me if you got the package, uh- good night? Bye mom, love you!" He hung up and sighed, feeling the exhaustion of his day set in. As it was his last day for nearly a whole week they had squeezed every drop of productivity they could from him, including holding him to the last possible minute, and even that wasn't enough as now he had homework in the form of trading emails with the Academy again so he could peruse their students for those few intelligent hard workers his boss would want to hire as interns. It would take hours to sort through all the files.

He began his nightly trek to the subway, perking up once more as he got closer to the stairs leading down. He'd seen the Ghost Girl down there twice so far, once when he was all alone and she had laughed at his dumbstruck face before vanishing around a corner, and again a few nights ago looking sad about something- and that had been just after those two deaths hadn't it? He hadn't managed to talk to her then, the subway had been more crowded and she'd been sitting out of the way on a ledge where no one else seemed to see her. He kept meaning to look into it, he'd even started to research ghosts a couple days ago, but that had been the only time he'd managed to do anything about it. He was always so busy, and while he'd thought about telling someone he always ended up distracted, and surprisingly the Ghost Girl didn't come up in conversation as much as he'd thought she would.

Then, just as he reached the top of the stairs, she appeared. He actually halted mid-step, staring at her for a moment, taking in her bright pink hair and green hoodie. There was something different about her, she wasn't just a girl, but maybe, maybe, she was a ghost. Koda didn't care, he just wanted to know, and this time she wasn't about to disappear on him. "Hey?" He asked more than questioned, wanting to say something, but unsure how to begin. "Uh, whats up?" He tried lamely, but she grinned at him suddenly.

"I have something for you, something you'll want." She said, her voice surprisingly relaxed. He half expected it to be faint or desperate or just plain creepy, what with the whole 'Ghost' part of Ghost Girl. He slipped his phone into his back pocket and started down the stairs, cautiously at first, then with more enthusiasm. He wasn't afraid, despite the fact that many said she killed people, instead he just wanted to meet her- and see what this 'something' was.

"Is this the part where you push me down the stairs?" He joked, but suddenly he realized his earlier thoughts were untrue; he was afraid, it was just buried deep beneath his curiosity and excitement, and now escaped in the form of a sarcastic quip- funny how the exhaustion seemed to evaporate the second a good mystery was right in front of him. He was content to let the fear be buried, no one ever learned anything by being afraid; "What've you got?" He questioned when she only smirked at his joke.

He took the last step off the stairs and found himself uncomfortably close to the girl, realizing he was very much in her personal space he quickly took a step to the side and shot a quick glance around the empty subway, scared that if he looked away too long she'd disappear and he'd be back to questioning his sanity. "It's called a Semblance," she cupped her palms as if to catch a drop of water from the ceiling, but it wasn't water that landed in her grasp, instead it was a shadow. It warped and curled and for a second he thought it was just a small really black cat, but then the shadow was lit by some kind of inner light and while he blinked away the spots in his eyes it had reformed into... he wasn't sure what it was. It was curved in a way that made him think of the glass part of a motorcycle helmet, or maybe from a diving or space suit, but the glass was heavily tinted and shaped by lots of triangles melded together. "It's a mask." The Ghost Girl clarified with a secret smile. Koda felt like he was missing a joke, or maybe he was the butt end of one.

He shook his head, holding the 'Semblence' in his hands carefully, but ignoring it for now to focus on the girl. "I don't understand, are you really a ghost? How come you're talking to me? Not that I'm complaining! I just- I want to know." He tried to wipe off his 'interrogator' expression as his dad liked to call it, and replaced it with his most earnest looking puppy dog eyes.

"That will help you answer your questions," she smirked, looking amused, but there was something else in her expression... worry maybe? Koda was never really good at reading people. "But don't wear it yet, wait for the others."

So. Others. That's not spooky at all, just the Ghost Girl summoning her ghost friends to come and kill him. He wondered if he would become a ghost if killed by a ghost, was that what she meant by others? The others who had died here?

...it would be pretty rad to be a ghost though.

Before he could get too far into that thought, the girl gave a loud laugh and shook her head. "The others are like you," she explained, "you'll need them where you're going." Then, after a quick scan of his skeptical face, she turned and started walking away. "I'll be back, and when I get here you'll be waiting." He wasn't sure if it was a guess, or a command, but... he would be here, staring at the mask, waiting.

<You are weak,> William Ascot dreamt of a voice calling out to him in the night. <Bullied in school, an abrasive presence on your 'Internet', arrogant and rude when not dealing with people face-to-face.> The darkness in his dream lifted as gold and white fire slowly lit themselves at the edges of his vision, crawling inwards to the centre. <Slothful, lacking attention to give yet always craving it; you want greatness yet are unwilling to put in the perseverance that is needed to take it.> The tone of the voice changed, as if appraising him. <You will have to do.>

Then the gold and white fires began to burn, enveloping his face and head with excruciating, yet purifying, heat. He can feel what was so base about him burn away for the present, his soul bared to this presence, every secret revealed. All that had concerned him before; bullying in real life and being aggressive online, all seemed petty, which was what they were.

<Wake up.> And Ascot found his eyes opening, gazing at the familiar cieling of his room. In his right hand, he held a mask, a mask of gold and white; the same colors of the flames in his dreams. The voice came from it, continuing, <Change from your pajamas. Put on clothes proper for going outside. Go to the Subway; my bretheren and yours' await.>

Ascot shuddered, but decided not to oppose this mysterious supernatural voice. As the young man got up to change, his mind was already working on figuring out the most likely course of events; it was a shame that fiction had to be his guide. Nevertheless, he can gather that this was a beginning of a quest, and quests were things he knew by heart. Will plot ideas be played straight, or deconstructed here? He didn't have enough information to reach a conclusion.

Once the boy changed, he decided to make a detour to Zoe's room, before knocking on the door. Not too loud, of course, but enough to wake his sister up. Once the door opened, and Zoe asked him what was up (and perhaps noticed his change of clothes), William would ask her:

"Zoe? I cannot sleep. Can we two go on a trip outside? I'm sure Mom won't have to know." Mom; a kind, sweet woman who nevertheless had a core of steel deep inside. A fit partner for their father, the brave soldier and breadwinner. "Please, Zoe? It won't be for long."

The boy held on to his mask all the while, feeling it slowly burn as the...entity inside grew impatient. Or was it impatience? Ascot was too focused on his sister and trying to persuade her that he might not detect anything amiss in her room at present...

@Daft Monarch@Redward

Oftentimes a dream is only a dream--memories mixing together into a mesmerizing, if rather bizarre, movie. But Anni knew, too, that sometimes a dream meant something special; sometimes it was a vision sent from heaven to give comfort or guidance, or sometimes it was a small view of what the future held. Distinguishing which a single dream may be can be rather difficult.

But if you have the same dream for sixteen consecutive nights, it means something.

It started with a horse. It always started with a horse. Her name was Grace. Anni jumped the small stream and raced over the short, green grass to leap onto Grace's back. With her passenger safely aboard, Grace took off sprinting (true to her name) gracefully across the prairie. In the distance Anni could see the wood, trees growing so thickly she wouldn't be able to peer in even when she stood at the edge. Shortly Grace would reach that tree line and stop, then wait for Anni to dismount and enter the forest alone.

A part of her wanted to know what it all meant. Having the same dream so many times, it was apparent she was being given a message. She just wished she knew what she was being told.

Then a much larger part of her simply raised her hair in the wind, spread her hands wide, and laughed. Riding a horse--feeling Grace's strong body galloping beneath her, muscles flexing in beautiful harmony; basking in the chill morning whipping across her face as she flew across the plain far faster than her own legs could carry her; relishing the sight of everything flying past as barely more than a blur of color--riding a horse really was the greatest.

All too soon the trees loomed and the ride was over. Anni dismounted, eyeing the forest warily. Before entering, though, she turned back to give Grace a hug. Wrapping her small arms around the horse's powerful neck, Anni whispered a soft, "Thank you." Stepping back slowly, loathe to depart her majestic equine friend, Anni paused a moment longer to nuzzle Grace. The mare accepted her affection, waiting for Anni to take a step back before shaking her head with a happy whinny.

"Now go; she's waiting for you," Grace said. Then she galloped away.

Anni's eyes grew larger than saucers. By the time she found her voice again Grace was far, far away. "You just... talked," Anni mumbled with apparent shock. That hadn't happened the first fifteen times. Was this time going to be different?

AnnMarie turned back to the wood with new resolution. She would find what she was looking for this time. With that determination, she started into the dark forest.

She didn't know exactly what she was looking for, per say, but Anni new she was looking for it. She had this overpowering sense that she needed to find it, and it was somewhere among these trees. For fifteen nights she had been searching, sometimes here and sometimes there. Tonight she turned neither to the righthand nor to the left. She kept her path straight, her eyes straight ahead, her feet never swaying. Each time she drew near a tree, Anni repeated her determination and refused to step aside; and in a miracle most only considered possible in a dream such as this, the tree stepped aside instead.

Some minutes in--at a place Anni would poetically declare the center of the forest--Anni found it. Laying atop a stump was a mask--a white mask with red eyes and a frighteningly large mouth. Reaching for the mask, Anni had the strongest impression it was like a fox. Looking it over she couldn't see too much of a reason for that; granted, it had triangular ears and a small nose, but its overall appearance said nothing of the kind. Yet she could feel some sort of foxiness in her hands.

Holding the mask in her hands, Anni debated within herself whether she should put it on or not. She could feel it asking to be put on, but something in her thoughts told her to wait. Maybe if she-

A soft alarm on her phone pulled AnnMarie from the dream and back to reality. Her consciousness slid away from the vision and back to her body laying in bed. Try as she might to hold onto that moment, it vanished like a puff of smoke.

Anni was mildly upset at whomever had just texted her and interrupted the dream. Who on earth would be texting her at this time of night, anyway? It was... just after eleven, Anni learned with a glance at the clock. She grabbed for the phone on her night stand to find out. Pulling up her inbox, Anni found a string of texts had been sent from an unknown number. She started reading from the oldest one:



Staring at the screen, Anni was two parts baffled and one part chillingly certain. Who was it? How did they know her dream? Which subway? All these questions tried to crowd Anni's thoughts, to tell her she didn't know enough to go anywhere or do anything. But at the same time, she knew all the answers. She could pretend not to, but in her heart she knew: this was her. The one in all the rumors. The Ghost Girl on C-route.

Putting her phone down, Anni's mind whirled through everything. She understood most of what was happening, if not why. There was still her post script, though. Of course Anni remembered the mask she had found, but that was back in-

Anni blinked twice. Sitting at the foot of her bed was the mask. It was propped against the footboard, leaning up just enough to smile at her.

A shiver ran down Anni's spine. Something frightening was happening. Yet at the same time, it was something momentous. Something fantastic. Something life-changing. And something she needed to pursue. Right now.

Anni jumped out of bed and changed out of her pajamas as quickly as she could, throwing a red skirt over shorts and finding an orange blouse that would help her be visible in the dark night. She paused at her desk to write up a quick note for her mother, which she left on the bed. Sliding a pair of sneakers on, Anni slipped out the door and into the quiet streets, hustling to reach the train in time.

The home settled back into a perfect silence, Ms. Parkinson undisturbed by the muffled noises Anni had been making through her departure. On the now vacant bed sat the hastily scrawled note, almost forlorn in its solitude.

“Thanks for stopping by guys, make sure to come back again and have an awesome day!” Saffron called from behind them by the tables, waving at the customers who were leaving the restaurant and watching as they exited. As soon as the door shut behind them, the smile he had faded and his body slumped forward slightly, giving off a slight sigh of relief. The place was now empty, save for Saffron and Johnny himself, which meant that he could focus on the new dishes he’d have to clean left by the students. Glancing at the clock, it was clear that recently the school day would have ended an hour ago or so, explaining the sudden influx of them stopping by to eat. Of course, it wasn’t that many people, but it was enough that Saffron could take note of the time. Just a couple more hours left until his shift was over… And then? Well, he wasn’t really sure.

Not like now was the time to think about it, there were new dishes to pick up and clean after all, and he’d wasted enough time just standing around. Going over to the booth they had been in, he stacked the plates in one hand and grasped the glasses of half drank soda in his other, passing through the swinging door that leads into the kitchen. Immediately, he began to clean them, his mind drifting towards what he should do after work.

I could go grocery shopping, but I think I’ll be fine for a week or two if I skip a meal each day. The flower shop had some nice carnations that I’m sure he’d appreciate when he gets to see them, but… they’re too expensive. Not to mention I’m not sure what flowers he likes. Hmmm…

Saffron frowned, placing the plate off to the side to dry and picking up the next, beginning to scrub and do the usual routine with dishes.

Actually, I think I could probably find some fake, cheap flowers. They’d definitely last long enough, and I could buy some emergency fabric if I need to sew a patch if I get a hole in my clothes. It’ll look tacky, but at the very least it’ll save money in the long run. Batteries would be nice too, but I’d have to make sure to get the rechargeable ones this time… It’ll help in the long run again.

Saffron hastily reached for a paper towel, ripping a piece off to dry his hands and tossing it into the trash before returning back into the front of the cafe, having noticed a new customer come in.

“Hey there, welcome! Take a seat, take a seat, I’m Saffron, and I’ll be-”

Phew, last one! And not a moment to spare, my shift’s just about done! He thought, a smirk appearing on his face to a job well done. He had helped several people, and Johnny had even let him cook some of the meals with supervision, of course! If he kept giving it his all and working hard, he knew he’d learn a lot from his boss. Both with skills for work and maybe some lessons that could be used out of it?

Soon heading for the exit, he quickly turned and started to wave, beaming slightly at Johnny, or doing his best to appear like he was somewhat content. ”Thanks for the help today, boss! I’ll see you tomorrow!” He told him. Not looking ahead when he left Johnny’s, he quickly bumped into someone with his shoulder, knowing full well who it was and simply choosing to ignore it. He didn’t need the harassment, not today when he had to make sure to hurry and do some shopping. Not to mention he’d memorized the train schedules, and was hoping he’d avoid the person he’d seen there a couple times too. Creepy girl, really… Always there when he’d take the train home, trying to talk to him. Saffron always insisted on telling her to go away, but he hoped a slight change in his routine would mean avoiding her entirely. At the very least the trip could be decent to escape for a moment.

Leaving the last shop of several, Saffron felt proud that he didn’t spend as much as he had calculated, but by now it was well into the night. He facepalmed, soon realizing it wasn’t money that he had wasted, but time. He couldn’t believe he spent hours just to buy a couple things, and he lacked the enthusiasm to hurry and pick up his pace.

It’s fine, the trains still run this late, I think. It’s good that I’m out of the house anyway too, so nothing to worry about! He thought, trying to psyche himself up and stay moderately positive as he walked towards the station, gripping the plastic bags tightly to ensure it wouldn’t slip from his grasp as he reached a set of stairs that led to the subway. He yawned, fatigue hitting him slightly before he took his first step downward.

Ugh, I hardly did anything today and I’m already tired. I’ll uh, just sleep earlier tonight, that’ll probably help a bit. He wiped his face with his free hand, rubbing his eyes as he tried to wake up a bit. When he reached the middle of the stairs, a mysterious voice echoed through the subway, almost enveloping Saffron’s senses and causing him to halt his descension as he felt something was off.

“You’re awfully tired today, aren’t you?” It said, startling Saffron which caused him to look around anxiously. It sounded familiar…
”Head down the stairs and wait for your train… It’ll make sense soon.”
Well, it’s not like I have a choice… I do need to get home...

Upon reaching the bottom, he took a seat by the tracks, constantly glancing left and right as if he’d eventually see someone or something appear. But no, there was nobody down in this station tonight it seemed. He placed the bags next to him on the seat, leaning back when the voice came once more.

”You look tense. Maybe a good look at what you have in your bags will calm you?” Facepalming and questioning his sanity, he begrudgingly opened one of his bags, startled at the object that managed to find its way into it. Pulling it out revealed some sort of... masquerade mask? It was dark, course and jaded to the touch as if it was made of some sort of rock or gem, yet holding a mysterious elegance to it. It had a duality to it, with the black and yellow almost intertwining… The yellow side had cracks of obsidian, and the obsidian had cracks of yellow topaz.

“T-The hell?”
”It’s a mask, or your semblance, obviously. Quite nice, right? It’s my gift for the attention you gave me before… And trust me, ~you’ll need it soon~” It faded away, leaving him to stare at the mask, unsure of what to do. He knew now it was that girl that did this, but… did she really wait for him to be alone for this?! The situation was getting weirder by the second, and all he really could do was place it back in the bag and wait for his train to come.

"There's no point pursuing it any further, Mike." Joseph's apathetic voice rang out from his phone. "This case is basically cold. Forget about it."

"You know I don't work that way." Michael told him flatly. They'd been on the force together enough years to know how the other operated.

"Yeah. Maybe I just hope one day you'll see sense." Joseph replied. "Letting all the cases that get away from you eat you up inside won't help them get solved. All you can do is get on with your life and hope a miracle occurs."

"I guess so." Michael said nonchalantly. He was far from convinced. He hadn't joined the police force to became a tired, jaded old stooge before he had even turned 30. Even if there was nothing he could really do about it, he felt like he owed it to the victims to try and do something, even if the force had already just about given up. Besides, with this weird and wacky "ghost girl" thing gnawing at the edges of his mind, he definitely felt like the wrong thing to do here would be to just turn away. "I'll quit bugging you for now, anyway. See you some other time, bro."

"See ya." Joseph said before Michael ended the call. With little delay, he got up from the chair he was in and headed out the door of his apartment. It was about time for him to poke around the subway some more. He had no doubt that much like the last few times he wasn't about to find anything that would help him, and yet he felt compelled to do it. As long as he felt like he was doing something to figure it all out he felt he could rest easy.

On the way over, he found a familiar face, though not one that gave him any measure of comfort. "Hello, Micheal Keahi. Off to the subway yet again?" The "ghost girl" asked him.

"You know it." Micheal responded casually. By this point, he had grown to accept the presence of the ghost girl in his life. At first, he had thought he was flipping out, but now...he was certain he had at least partially flipped out. The way he had worked it out in his head, the girl was some kind of subconscious message to him from his own brain, spurring him on to keep looking into those men's deaths. After all, the ghost girl story was related to what had happened, so it made sense he would hallucinate something akin to the descriptions he had heard. It was like some garbage from back in high school level English classes.

"Perhaps this time you might enjoy a change of pace?" She handed him something as she spoke. "It is a gift."

"Gee, thanks." Michael answered sarcastically. Was he now deluding himself into imagining presents from ghosts? "So what the fuck is this supposed to be for?"

"You will learn of it's true purpose soon enough. I only ask that you do not wear it until you reach the appropriate area."

"And where might that be?" Michael asked, though he didn't really care what the answer was.

"You're already headed there." She told him. This made him pause. It was ominous that his delusions seemed to have some kindof plan here. He didn't know what to make of it, but he didn't like the sound of it.

"Tonight, you will receive answers to your questions." She continued, seemingly paying no heed to his confusion. "Whether those answers will satisfy you is up to you alone. But you will have answers. All that is needed from you is to go to the exact place you always intended."

"Ooookaaaay..." Michael replied reflexively. He was sorely tempted to ask more questions. He wanted to know why he would get answers tonight, why he needed to be in a specific place, and why this was all coming out now. But he had already made up his mind that this was just something going on in his head. There was no ghost girl, it was just his bleeding heart causing him to dream up some weird fantasy about a case he couldn't let go of. "Alright, well, mission accomplish, ghosty. I'm going to the exact same place I meant to already. Now how about you let me get on with it and go become somebody else's delusion, huh?" With that, he turned away from her and left, not even stopping to see if she was either still there or following him. He'd had enough of this psychological mumbo jumbo and wanted to get on with things. If he really was going to get answers tonight, that was great. Maybe he would stop seeing ghost girls around too. At the very least, "she" seemed to have decided to respect his desire to be left alone.

He managed to go a fair distance before he realised he was holding onto something. Taking a look, it was the mask that the girl had given him. He hadn't looked at it too closely before, but it was definitely the same thing. It was some kindof metal mask. Now Michael was worried. Could he have picked something up in a mentally deluded haze? He really had to have lost it if his brain was inventing stories around things he had done. As creepy and unsettling as this all was, Michael wasn't about to turn around and go home. He was still going to the subway, and there he was going to poke around until he had had enough. If his unconscious mind was really giving him a hint, he would take it.

Stormy

Stepping outside, Stormy stretched like a tree, breathing in deeply, her hands splayed wide to the heavens. The night was a cosmological menagerie, obscured by the greying opalescence of cloud and the raking fingers that clawed up from the earth. The moon was perfectly divided, caught between gibbous and crescent. A night for mischief, for losing and getting lost, but also one for finding secrets and hidden hiders; it was a night of halves.

It was important, therefore, to follow the rules. Looking town from the twin-torn moon, Stormy locked her door, and checked it thrice, hiding the key underneath the welcome mat; she had to be proper about this. Before she had left, she had politely asked the spider, which lived in the dusty corner never to be cleaned, to watch for sprites, pixies and feyfolk.

The chill air toyed with her flower garland, tussled with the hem of her orange-gold dress, and tickled the hairs of the back of her neck to attention. Pulling her patchwork cardigan tighter, she checked her bag, and began walking. Each step was well placed, avoiding any cracks; she didn’t want her mother’s back to break.

A heavy lantern swung from her right hand, throwing out light from the thick, black-wax candle ensconced inside. This was the first of her three items. As she walked alone under the bustling buildings she intoned, almost in ritual:


The signs all pointed to it: she would find Babylon. A life is made up of a great number of small incidents, and a small number of great ones. Tonight might be the greatest of them all; it was a tangible weight upon one’s shoulder, and if you stuck out your tongue you might taste it on the air, leaden and electric, or if you listened, you could almost hear it whispered under the tinkling silver bells of pixie-laughter.

It may have seemed, to the outside observer, that Stormy was staring too intently at the ground. On any other night, this would have been true. She was, in fact, paying close attention to the unseen path the starlight tried to hide but the candle flame revealed. To stray from the path would be disaster. She had to find the true voice amongst the thousands trying to lead her astray. So, Stormy listened to, but ignored, the whispering folk that danced in twilight, and let her feet follow the path.

Upon reaching the great black river of tarmac, Stormy stopped. Cars and people were few and far between at this hour; the night life bustled further up the thoroughfare, closer to the centre. The path was hidden here, but she had come prepared. It was a simple enough thing to cross a river, for you only needed a bridge. From one pocket she produced a lumpy piece of milky stone, and placed it on the curb. A deep breath was pulled inside Stormy’s lungs, and she strode across the river, brazen and defiant. One step. The another, and another, until she was across. At the other side, she gulped down air greedily. From her other pocket she pulled another piece of milky stone, and knelt to place it on this curb, the twin halves of moonstone longing to be whole again. Stormy watched with bated breath, and then nodded, straightening up. It had been done as was proper.

Furtively, Stormy crept along, seeing nary another soul, save for the prancing beings forever at her periphery. Unnoticed to herself, her slender fingers rubbed the ring on her wedding finger, a band of iron to keep her safe, whilst her diamond-bearing promise sat sequestered in a box underneath her pillow. This was the last of her items three. Despite her slow steps, her heart beat with furious anger, her ears rung with blood, and her breath came in deep and left uneven. So, it might not be a surprise that another rhyme slipped from her lips:


She stopped and placed her hand on a wall.


The path was at its end. Before her, stretched wide, was the maw of the subway station. C-Route. Stormy nodded, having suspected, but never quite wanting to believe.

She entered.

“Professor, please, I’m begging you - just read it through again, I-”

“How many times do I have to tell you ‘no’, Kate?” Professor Lufton kept up a furious pace along the corridor, his black converse squeaking along the J-wing hall of the Pertree Building. He was one of those ‘cool’ professors, one of the ones who didn’t do his top button up and tried to make them all follow his Twitter account for ‘daily tweets about the amazing world of physics everybody!’.

Behind him, Kate was struggling to keep up, only just managing to keep herself from breaking into an actual sprint as she scurried along. She readjusted the position of her strap on her shoulder. She had a shift at Johnny’s in an hour, and since she was heading straight there from Professor Lufton’s lecture, she’d had to resort to a quick bathroom change into clothes more appropriate for work, leaving her ponytail at an odd angle. She’d been set, but then... she’d gotten the paper back.

“If you just let me have another go at it, I’m sure I could do better this time,” she tried again, her voice taking on an eerie quality in the abandoned corridor “I had a deadline on my bank loan and I had to work a few extra shifts to try and get the money”. That, combined with the weird writing in her textbook (which she was definitely not telling the professor about) had really put a dent in her productivity - she hadn’t been able to get much of anything done.

It was late evening, and the Lightbridge twilight was starting to seep in through the windows, flooding orange-gold across the linoleum floor and causing Kate to squint. When the professor stopped suddenly, she almost walked straight into him. She managed to stop herself just in time, but she was still uncomfortably close. She took a step back, he pushed his wire rimmed glasses up his nose and sighed.

“That there is exactly the reason why you did so poorly on your paper,” he said, taking on a tone that made her skin crawl.

She grit her teeth, “I know that, but I had a payment due - what did you expect me to do? I was already late on last month’s rent, I can’t afford to do that again, and-”

“Kate!” he cut her off quickly, before she could work herself up too much, “take a deep breath and, calm down. In fact, y’know what?” he glanced down the corridor before beckoning her towards an empty classroom, “let’s discuss this somewhere a little more private, okay?”

She shook her head and secured her bag over he shoulder, “I…I don’t have time for that, I’m sorry, my shift starts at six, and If I’m late I’ll end up leaving Johnny on his own because the guy I work with leaves when I arrive today”

The professor ran a hand through his hair, looking closer to sixty than he usually did, “I know that you’re struggling financially, heck, I don’t think I’ve got many students who aren’t, but I can’t give you special treatment, you know that right?”

“I’m not asking for ‘special treatment’”, Kate said, air quotations and all, “I just… I think I know where I went wrong, and I think I can fix it, you just have to give me a chance, I know that I can do it,” she bit her lip, the skin rough and jagged from where she’d indulged in the habit previously, “please?”

He frowned, “I don’t like this but… where do you think the mistake was?”

Kate felt her stomach unknot almost immediately, he was going to let her try again, she knew it,“Well, I know for a fact that I messed up with Lorentz transformations, but I know how to do them now, and I understand everything, I had someone explain it to me.”


“Very well. I want it this time next week, you hear?”

She grinned, “Loud and clear, thanks professor!”

Now all she had to do was try again. As long as she could do that, she’d be fine.

---

She’d just about managed to make it to the subway on time to catch the B train East to Johnny’s, and now she was sat, textbook open on her lap, trying to make the best of her time.

The carriage smelled like sweat and chinese takeaway, and odour that slithered and crawled up her nose, poking at her olfactory nerve to the point where she could barely focus. It wasn’t busy at this time of day per se, rush hour was just dwindling to a close, leaving the carriage available to an odd mix of university students like Kate coming out of later classes, people who worked odd hours in the city centre, and a few tourists who seemed to have missed the memo that just because Lightbridge was on an island that didn’t make it a great destination for a family holiday.

Kate knuckled down, drawing her attention away from her surroundings and back to the book.

Lorentz transformations are coordinate transformations involving two coordinate frames moving at a constant velocity relevant to each other. Lorentz functions are useful when discussing special relativity. For example when it is nearly time Kate.

With a yelp, Kate slammed the book shut, heart pounding. It was happening again. Why was it happening again? She was going mad. That was the only plausible explanation. She’d read that paragraph before, several times over, and it had never said that before. The fluorescent lights overhead cast the book in a familiar shade stark white, bouncing off the shiny cover and creating a glare that obscured the cover.

Nearby, a tired looking student glared at her and she flinched away, “Sorry!” she hissed quietly by way of an apology. He scowled before looking away again, leaving Kate to once again ponder the book in front of her.

Slowly, she cracked it open, flicking back to the page she’d been on before.

For example when is the Lorentz function and c is the speed of light….

And it was back to how it was before. Huh. She allowed her eyes to slide shut and breathed deeply for a moment. She was probably just tired. Luckily her shift at Johnny’s was only a few hours long today, mostly involving helping close as opposed to serving. She’d go home tonight and go to bed straight away, she could get her re-do started tomorrow instead. Working on the subway was always a bad idea anyway, it was too easy to get distracted.

She closed the book, letting it sit on her lap for a few seconds. Glancing back down, about to slide it into her bag, she did a double take.

An Introduction to The Theory of Relativity was now Be Ready .

Like that wasn’t creepy. She needed sleep. She needed to get her shift at Johnny’s over and done with. She needed to figure out a way to tell Ruth at the shelter that she couldn’t make it this weekend. She needed to make sure her assignment was actually readable this time around. She needed to somehow do all that and pick up enough shifts to be able to cover bills and rent and her loan. She needed…. She needed a miracle, at this rate.

The train ground to a stop. Kate picked herself up, mistitled book still clutched in her fingers, and stepped out onto the platform. Not long now, she told herself, not long now.

---

As soon as she approached the small restaurant tucked into the little alley, it was if all the stress from earlier melted away. Johnny’s was a home away from home for anyone that needed it, and it was hard to let stresses from life and study reach her here, it was just so far removed from all the… bad. She was glad she was working somewhere like this and not in a cold, corporate chain restaurant like she’d been doing before she moved to Lightbridge.

It was the kind of place with more regulars than not, where the customers and staff treated each other like friends, where her boss actually smiled at her when she walked through the door. She remembered being told by a teacher when she was a kid not to use the word ‘nice’ to describe anything, but honestly? She couldn’t think of a word that fit better.

Well, for the most part.

Just as she was about to enter something, or rather someone, collided with her shoulder. She blinked in surprise, taken aback. Before she could say anything, they’d already gone. She looked back, trying to catch a glimpse of - oh. That explained it. She watched Saffron’s retreating form as he made his way down the street, something heavy and thick like tar settling in the pit of her stomach as she did so.

For a second, she thought about calling after him, but decided against it. She had work and he looked… not much different from how he always looked these days to be honest. She doubted he wanted to talk to her. And she wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted to talk to him, not after the day she’d been having, it wouldn’t end well.

Pushing the thought away, she made her way inside, ready to numb her mind with dishes and cleaning until she couldn’t even remember what had been bothering her in the first place.

---

“See you tomorrow Johnny!” Kate called as she pushed her way through the door, bag slung over her shoulder, skin crawling with the dirt and grime that accompanied closing shift. The open night air was cool in comparison to the cosy but cramped restaurant, even when there weren’t that many customers.

“Remember, bright and early! The breakfast rush are out for blood!” he replied with a wave and a smile as usual.

“Sure thing! Bye!” she laughed, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her coat as the door closed behind her, leaving her more or less alone. In the distance, drunken shouts and songs echoed, mostly male in tone, but backed by the ever present buzz of far-away traffic in the city centre. It was quiet here, so much as to almost feel muffled, but still connected, still a part of the city.

She began making her way to the subway, taking comfort in the familiar litany of shops and bars and restaurants, mostly independant or discount, that she walked past - The Toad in The Hole, EVERYDAY SALE FRENZY!!!!, Oakley’s Art Supply Store, Do not put it on yet.

Wait, what?


She blinked a couple of times, and the glowing neon sign above the hairdressers was back to showing it’s original, albeit questionable, name Belle’s Bangs. She rubbed her eyes, they were playing tricks on her again, although by this point it was more frustrating than it was bothersome. She continued walking. She just wanted to get home, get to bed, wake up in the morning, go to work, go to class, and get that assignment done. She needed to make sure she called Ruth as well, sooner rather than later. She’d be disappointed, and she’d be right to be disappointed. Kate was letting her down, again. It didn’t feel right, dropping the shelter to catch up on her studying, but she was falling behind, had already fallen behind to be perfectly honest. She couldn’t afford to miss any more grades, not if she wanted to succeed, not if she wanted it to have been worth-

A dark, glowing shape, falling from the sky. Fast.

Her heart stuttered. She leapt backwards. It was heavy. If it hit her. It’d kill her.

Seconds later it hit the pavement, with an explosive crack! sending out a concussive wave that slammed into Kate’s stomach knocking her backwards. An involuntary gasp escaped her lips as she staggered, overbalanced, and landed arse-first on the floor, coughing on the clouds of dust billowing upwards from the impact site.


She raised a shaking hand to cover her mouth - what had just-? She pushed herself to her feet, somewhat unsteady, legs trembling from the leftover adrenaline shooting through her veins, blood pounding in her ears.

She should run. There could be more of whatever that was. It could be some weird kind of terrorist attack. It could be anything - anything dangerous.

But, and why did there have to be a ‘but’, she felt… drawn towards it, whatever ‘it’ was. She looked up. All around her the signs on the shops had changed. From every angle all she could see in a million different colours and designs, just Take it, Kate. Take it. Take it. It is yours, take it.

A few steps forward, one terrified foot in front of the other, crushed on all sides by curiosity, excitement, things she hadn’t felt in so long it took her a second to realise what they were. There wasn’t a reason for her to do this. If anything there were a million reasons not to.

She got closer, close enough to see what it was.

A mask, like one of those ones art-y people paper mached over and painted. Except black, made of some kind of hard material that she didn’t think would break if it was thrown into the sun, despite the fact that it was covered in scratches and gauges, and looked generally worse for ware.

It steamed in the cool air, and the concrete in the small crater surrounding it looked damp,
melted even, yet somehow she knew that if she picked it up it wouldn’t hurt.

This went against… everything.

She picked it up.

It hung, slack from her fingers. Comfortably warm.

you know where you must go. the signs said.

Kate smiled, although it was a hesitant thing, threatening to shatter at the slightest knock.

“I do.”

This agitation had to stop. Zoe held back the urge to spring up and punch the wall, really, really hard. It felt as though her adrenaline gland had a sprung a leak, her mind and body simmering with nervous energy. And this had been all day now. Laying on her back fingers laced behind her head, becoming far too familiar with the inner workings of the ceiling, Zoe tried to pin down the source.

It really did seem like aimless frustration. As habit dictates the night before had been late, though she had risen much earlier than usual with a start, panting hard after some instantly forgotten dream. That was when the feeling of anticipation kicked in, and it only intensified as the day continued. A quick two mile or so morning run helped a bit, but her quickly crafted breakfast of buttered toast and coffee afterwards was hard to get down, her shower not helpful in her dilemma, unfortunately.

Work at Stormy's was business as usual, though this particular Wednesday had been a quiet one. No appointments and only two phone inquiries, no pressure. So no stress right? So why the tension? Her shift had drawn on, and on, and on, time passing irritatingly slowly, the empty minutes crawling by only perpetuating the growing restlessness in her bones. She'd practically sprinted home at the end of the day, taking the long way round in a bid to burn away the incessant nervousness.

It hadn't worked. Zoe uttered a desperate chuckle at her self before it switching to a soft groan, wriggling and stretching in frustration. Here, now, hours later, laying across her bed, the feeling remained. Stronger even. I don't need unexplained random foreboding right now. This is the definition of ants in your pants. Unbelievable. To sleep I'm gonna need hectic damned medication if I even...

Knocking. Snapping her from her futile introspection, the timid knock at her door was almost a relief, and she had to strain to hear her brothers murmured request. Rolling, standing and heading to the door in a series of surprisingly quick, efficient movements she took a calming breathe for a moment before opening the door inwards, wasting no time replying.

"Yeah, sure buddy. I'm keen. Feeling weird."

It took only a glance to discern that something was clearly up with her brother too. She'd been at the older sister thing long enough to know that inquiring right off the bat was largely unhelpful with Will. He'd share what was bothering him with her if and when he felt he needed to. Until then a walk, the night sky and quiet company actually sounded pretty good, and could do some good toward dissipating this weirdly persisting fight or flight sensation. Still wide awake and fully clothed there was no real reason to delay.

"Got somewhere in mind? Not important, but you know, curious" she quipped, walking over to her desk to retrieve her bag and phone. 13%.
Awesome. Quickly sending a short message to their mother about their wanderings before shrugging with resignation, she stuck the device in her rucksack along with the rest of its contents. Zoe turned once more to her brother. He really did looked kinda haunted. Is that a mask? Half concealed behind his back he was holding a bright object, one of the eyes visible, giving it away. The mystery evolves. Cue much needed distraction, I suppose. Shouldn't be away too long, Mom can sleep.

"Let's go then. You look like something's eating you up. We could both do with a stroll, not gonna lie" she said, brushing past him on the way out the door, shouldering her rucksack. Taking the lead she began her stealthy departure from the house, showing a remarkable amount of skill as she crept down wooden steps in almost complete silence, opening the front door with a faint squeak and waiting for Will. Two small clicks and it was locked behind them.

She felt like running, her muscles tensing as if she were on the edge of some large precipice, about to jump off. Instead she restrained herself and motioned to her brother with a nod and a sweeping arm gesturing towards the city lights, suggesting he take the lead on their little night time adventure. This was his plan after all.

Ring, ring.

Tristan groaned beneath the warmth of the Mylar blanket, pulling himself to a dead man's approximation of upright in a series of uncomfortably loud crinkles. The little office was heatless at night, the walls just barely insulated by layers of fake certificates, imitation tapestries, and mass-produced paintings of peaceful landscapes. The window was a problem, and Tristan's inevitable oversize poster of water droplets falling into more water had not proven much of a solution. His desk was a better one, pulled into the corner for overhead cover, and along with the space-age shininess of the Mylar formed the basis for what might well have been a contender for the saddest lean-to on planet Earth.

Warm, though.

Ring, ring.

Should fire my secretary, he thought, issuing another groan as he began the slow, noisy process of extricating himself from under the desk. He was just drunk enough to hate it, not drunk enough to accept its necessity. Should get a secretary so I can fire them. It is at best... When had he left the circle? Rani's smile, too bright, too easy. A shooting star on a collision course. Tabitha's growing estrangement. Not his business. Maybe his concern. Saying goodnight to Lane... It is at best four thirty in the fucking morning. I don't even know if you can use that word. Best. Best be the most critical fucking call of my life, that's -

He was about three-quarters out from under the desk when he remembered the phone was disconnected. He'd been cellphone only for months.

Ring, ring.

His head slammed into the bottom of the desk, and what came out of his mouth was half snarl, half scream as he lunged to his feet, immediately crashing to a kneel as the world wobbled out of its familiar alignment. One hand scrabbled blindly for his gun, impossible, it was in the drawer on the other side and the drawer was angled into the wall -

His vision blurred, doubled, but there was a little light sliding in under the poster over the window, enough to catch colors in the gloom. Familiar colors, pink and green.

"Ring, ring."

Tristan stopped scrabbling. Stopped breathing for a moment. Then he resumed, as slow as he could, faster than he wanted.

"Sorry to startle you," she said, in a voice that had never been sorry. "But you have to get up. It's time."

"Yeah. Uh. Time," he said, incoherent, throat dry. Ridiculously he thought of the sage, which was for customers, which could not possibly have an effect on the thing standing patient in his office outside Cinkaid Park. He thought of the gun again, but somehow that seemed less sane and not more.

"Exactly," she said. "So you have to get a move on, I'm afraid. I'm afraid. You're afraid. But you don't have to be, Tristan. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to help you."

"Jesus Christ."

"No. No, I'm afraid not. But you still are, aren't you? It's easier once you get moving, you know. Your body takes over from the part of you that's calculating - "
"What are you?" he blurted.
"Oh," she said. Paused.

"Well, I'm the Subway Ghost Girl."
"You aren't."
"No?"
"No."

She looked at him blankly for a moment. Her eyes were iridescent, taking different colors in the light as they moved, but they weren't moving now. She watched him with such perfect stillness that he thought, whatever she is, she knows what it means to be dead. Then she smiled and he felt the shudder start deep, work its way up along his spine.

"What am I, then, Tristan Traeger, if not a ghost? In spite of how haunted you are," she said, walking towards him on silent feet. Stepping close, leaning against his desk, leaning towards him. Something brushed his arm and he jumped, flight instinct propelling him halfway across the room towards the door before he realized it. She let him go, still smiling, and one hand reached out to stroke the faded wood of the desk and trace lightly over the little makeshift nameplate he'd engraved himself with a knife and too much time. "What do you want me to be?" Her tone was playful. Flirtatious. "Shall I be your dragon, little knight? Or a princess..."

She stalked forward, and Tristan backed away. A quiet thunk and rattle as he hit the office door. The Ghost Girl kept coming. "Or...a queen. An impatient queen, with things to do, and great big plans for all...of...you. I wouldn't," she said casually, stalling the half-formed thought involving the window and the alley below in his mind, "Make me chase you. You're already caught, Tristan. It's time to slump your shoulders and resign yourself to a little destiny before dreamland, or..."

Mouth almost too dry to manage it, Tristan swallowed. He tried to focus on the different in their height. On what he didn't believe in. Nothing is more dangerous than misplaced faith. And there is no such thing as destiny. That thought reclaimed, he found his voice. "Or what, exactly? Maybe I'm too drunk to stay scared of you. Maybe I'm too tired for your fucking plans. So what happens-"
"Heads roll," she said. No hesitation. No smile now.

And then she took two fast steps and she was in his face, eyes bright mercury, so close his nerves ached with the phantom expectation of body heat and biostatic. There was nothing but her too-wide eyes and the sudden pressure in his ears and the crushing black circle at the edges of his vision, where the world beyond the Ghost Girl used to be. "I'll drown you," she whispered, "In blood."

No need to ask whose. Never that need. The terrible pressure swelled and the world grew darker, tighter, there was a sound - she laughed. He was kneeling again. On his hands, too. She was sitting on the desk. "Just kidding. That's horror story stuff."

Tristan pulled himself to his feet, not trying to control his breathing now, or the shaking, not that he could have. She was pretty -
she looked like Tabitha, which bothered him awfully when he let it - but her eyes weren't pretty, he realized. They were his father's eyes. They didn't see him, didn't need to see him because in them he'd already been measured and mapped. They were focused on their future,
and the place he'd serve in it. "What kind of story is this?" he asked.

"Whatever kind of story you want it to be, Tristan Traeger."

His shoulders slumped.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked, but somehow he already knew. "Do I need to bring anything?"
"Just this," she said, drawing the mask out from behind her back and holding it towards him.

He hesitated, then reached out to claim it.The mask was almost wholly black in the semi-darkness, but the little light gleamed off its elegant horns and their draping in gaily colored ribbons. Something else about it struck him, and his fingers just above its surface. It's like it's screaming. If I touch it I'll hear, he suddenly knew, I'll hear that scream and I'll go insane. But when his fingers brushed it, there was nothing but crystal and carbon, silver and silk. It was a little too warm, that was all.

"She was much like you," said the Subway Ghost Girl of Lightbridge. "But stronger. She didn't scare so easy. And she kept her faith forever, even there at the end, and even though - again, like you - she was so totally fucking wrong about it. Don't put it on yet," she added. "You have to wait a while longer. You can wait, can't you, Tristan Traeger, little knight, doomed one, false messiah of a false messiah? For your destiny?"

And then she was gone. Tristan stood in the office for a few minutes, and then left. He took with him the gun, and the mask, and the memory of her voice like a hand around his throat.

The sound of the bell at the subway station ring eleven times, following with a female voice. "It is 11:00 pm in Lightbridge." The light bulb flickered like it going to die at any moment. Footprints can be seen everywhere on the old floor of the C-route. But yet, there is almost nobody except for a few passengers that are currently waiting for the final subway of the day. Although being as the main transport in Lightbridge, most people don't prefer to use the subway of the C- route. Mainly because of the urban legends and the accidents that are frequently happening on this route. Even when the city council has decided to put the handrail to preventing people to jump over the safety line to save a "ghost girl".
Seem like the handrail ain't enough though. Vlad thought when he looks at a crime scene of someone died last week. Moving away from the handrail, Vlad settles on the bench near the corner of the subway. Now the reason for Vlad came to the subway this late was never to unveil an urban legend or stop people from jumping over the safety line to kill themselves, it never is. He just simply came to enjoy the silence of this ancient subway, before heading home to visit his relatives.
Seven more minutes until the last subway comes. Vlad reminded himself about the time before scanning through his note. Suddenly, a little girl wearing a green hoodie and a pair of old jeans appear before him, coming out from thin air.
"Greetings Vladimir Hunter, I'm the Ghost Girl, and I hope this does not bother your alone time. " While talking, the Ghost Girl found herself a seat, conveniently next to Vlad.
Still amazed by what just happen, it took Vlad a few minutes to realize that the person opposite him just open the conversation. But before he could say anything, the girl before him has continued her speech.
Now I believe myself is behind schedule and so I won't waste a lot of my time. Pulling an object that is wrapped very carefully, the Ghost Girl handed it with care to Vladimir, afraid if the object might have a scratch or a bump appeared. "The object inside is a Mask or a Semblance. It cost me a lot of troubles to get it for you. So I advise you not to wear it right now. Or bad thing is going to happen. Now hurry up, other is waiting."
Holding the object in his hand, Vladimir still cannot realize what is happening. It took a few second for him to work around. Ok, so a girl appeared out of nowhere. She knows my name, and she gave me this item for whatever the name it is.
But for what reason? Vlad looks up to her, preparing to ask a question, only to be cut abruptly by her. " Oh, dealing with your kind long enough, I knew what you are going to ask. 'What is your motive?' Is everything in this world require a reason. Fine, I will tell you. Because this thing can give you true freedom. After all, you ain't care for anyone in that house, are you? And maybe, the freedom that you put for yourself."
Vlad's face now filled with worried, like a kid when being grounded. His voice started to tremble for a little bit. "How did you know?" The Ghost Girl's smirk is now replaced by a grin, with her cuspid teeth can be seen. "I always wonder why you are afraid of who you are? Of looking yourself in the mirror. This behavior even reflects in the location you chose to seat. Fascinating." Vlad sees that the Ghost Girl pulling a small object from behind her back. Although he can't think of what it is, the object feared him.
Vlad can feel something inside him just break loose, away from its chain and its cage. Something dark, and should always be forbidden to reveal to the outside. His tone changes, and so is his thought. "Greeting, my lady. It seems that you have seen Vlad personality, and you have threatened us." The voice coming out from Vlad's. Although they are all the same, the Ghost Girl can feel there are something different from the previous Vlad. The previous was more peaceful. But this new Vlad is more chaotic, filled with evil. Something similar to the devil That is what the Ghost Girl can pull out from the new personality of Vlad.
"Sorry for my disrespected behavior, but I don't think I know you." The figure shakes his head, before replying to the Ghost Girl question. "Please call me Oedipus Hunter. And believe me, the honor is all mine" The figure then bows to her, showing his respect.
"Now come to think of it, I prefer your previous personality more. But what was done is already in the past." There is a small silence before the Ghost Girl continued. "Now, Mr. Oedipus. Please head toward the main entrance of the subway, the other is waiting. Surely you don't want to keep other waiting too long, don't you?" Finishing her sentence, the Ghost Girl just simply fade out, into nothingness.
Packing Vlad's stuff up and telling his relatives that he can't come because of some "unexpected problem", Oedipus whisper softly to himself before heading to the main entrance. " My lady, you won't see or hear Vlad for a short time."

((Collab between Letter Bee and Daft Monarch))

The moon was bright at this late hour, the air cool as it blew. But the boy only barely noticed it, keeping only enough attention not to bump into the fire hydrants and dumpsters. He was absorbed in his quest, driven by fear and a little hope. And so, Ascot walked on towards the subway, the mask hot to his touch, invisibly burning with unnatural power. But despite that, the urgency given by the voice had faded, and the boy began questioning his course. As the subway drew into sight he looked towards Zoe, finally answering her questions:

"I heard a voice in a dream, telling me to go to the subway. I then woke up with this mask in my hand," he held out the gold-and-white object. "I know, this sounds crazy and scary, but...Zoe, I'm scared."

"We're strolling through the alleyways of Lightbridge at near enough midnight, and now you say it's because some dream voice told you to catch a train?" Taking a moment to internalize this information she let out a sigh, softly shaking her head, albeit with a smile. Will wasn't a liar, not in her experience, so something absurb must have happened to have him spouting this fun.

The pale gold mask held up before her was no cosplayers DIY costume, that much was clear. Reaching out to run a finger across it's surface she suddenly stopped, eyes wide, as a jolt of trepidation stayed her hand. That feeling again, but this time it had really raised her hackles. Hand withdrawing to rub her forehead, Zoe took a moment to calm down. Or at least tried. Her body demanded action.

"Alright. I'm feeling weird enough today that I can go along with your story. That said, this is, indeed, super fucking weird. You know that right?" Zoe smiled, making eye contact with her sibling as she reached out to grab his free hand. Giving it a squeeze she continued, "look, the way I see it, we can do one of two things. We could go home, watch a movie and leave all of this behind us. Done. Or we keep going, face this demon of yours. The subway right?" Turning her head to the looming subway entrance she finished "we're right here, bud. This is the sub travelling the c-route. Good a place as any. It's your choice, smart guy."

A nod from Ascot as he said, "Let's move forward; I don't think this business would go away if we ignore it. Do you have a flashlight?"

"Course I do! Have I ever let you down before?" she quipped, freeing an arm from her rucksack to let it swing down to her side before unzipping and reaching blindly in, feeling for the compact torch she knew lurked at the bottom. For a brief moment she felt something hard brush against her fingers, accompanied by a strong static shock. Her hand shot out the bag in surprise, a short but decriptive chain of expletives finding their way off her tongue.

Shaking her hand as the shock dissipated, Zoe gave the offending bag an evil eye. She placed it on the floor and unzipped it fully, getting a better look.

"The... fuck?"

"What's the matter, Zoe?" Ascot asked, going to his sister's side and looking into the opened bag. His heart chilled at what he saw there.

"You... This isn't yours? You didn't put it in my bag?" she asked, brain glitching out. Nestled at the bottom of the rucksack among a half finished bottle of water, small knife, torch and various other inner city necessities rested a serpentine aquamarine mask, reflective silver horns and spines adorning it.

Claim it. Keep him safe.

That was when her brain gave up, her fight or flight instinct peaking overwhelmingly, freezing her in place for what seemed an eternity, but was merely moments. As her whole entire life would dictate, her subconcious chose to fight. Fight by confronting the problem. Noticably dazed Zoe knelt down, reaching once more into her bag and grasping the polished visage. A faint charge shocked her again, milder; she hardly twitched.

Wha... I. What is... this? On claiming the mask, withdrawing it and standing up again, a tangible, sublime thread wove it's into her soul, slowly but increasingly siphoning away the unnatural hypertension that had been driving her mad all day. Zoe released a long sigh of relief, one she hadn't known she was holding. The sigh tapered into a soft but genuine giggle of happiness. Right before their eyes the mask came to life, seemingly in reaction to the transfer of emotional energy. The empty, darkened eyes filled with a blanket of swirling clouds, pale and mercurial, darkening towards the center. Faint golden blue tendrils of electricity arcing throughout the evershifting clouds emitted the barest flicker of light in the darkness between the siblings.

Zoe tore her gaze away from the fascination in her hands to to meet her brothers eyes. The sudden, welcoming gift of inner peace lent her confidence and a strange willingness to let fate do it's worst. Grabbing her flashlight she picked up her bag, shouldering it again as she straightened up. Turning bodily towards the subway, she held out the torch, motioning for Will to take it. The mask by her other side tingled in her hand.

"I really hope your brain can figure this one out Will. For some reason, I don't think we're getting out of it."

Ascot nodded. "True reason accepts all that exists, even if it cannot explain it." He then took the torch. "I know enough stories to know that this might be the start of something great, something grim, or both. The masks must have some special significance, and we must keep them at hand...along with your Krav Maga skills." A thought. "I don't think we're going to be alone in getting these masks. We may have...partners waiting for us in the subway."

So, with torch in hand, he went onwards, entering the area...

Zoe just rolled her eyes with mirth, making a show of cracking her knuckles before following, always keeping two steps behind him.

@Redward

"The train is coming, after all."

Tristan shivered despite himself, the efforts he'd taken on the way to reclaim a little steel, immediately hoping the chill beneath the surface would disguise the gesture as something less emotional. Tabitha was there, too, which gave him a nasty shock. This thing, when Will died, they said it... It was part of what had drawn his attention to the Ghost Girl stories. And now here she was, and Tabitha, and...the shock hardened, stretched unpleasantly inside him. At least she didn't look much happier than he was to be here, all tension and stormclouds while she spoke to the spectre, no smile when she took her lonely place. Not too many happy faces in general, here.

He recognized a surprising number. A handful of strangers, yeah, but there was a cop he'd seen around, who he'd caught a break from once, and Stormy from the tattoo parlour, and what looked like...half or better of the staff at Johnny's. That was probably the thing driving him closest to madness. He wished he could clear his head. He was mostly sober now, but his head just kept on swimming.

A different world. Tabitha. Johnny's. Masks. Everyone has a mask.

Tristan leaned back against the grimy pillar he'd chosen, drawing on the cold stone for whatever it could offer him, certain his knees wouldn't be enough on their own. No one is screaming, so I guess I shouldn't be the one to start, right? Which got him thinking about why everyone else had come, these chosen few, what absences or secret wish compelled them. For no reason he could articulate, he shifted to remind himself of the gun in its ragged homemade holster, nestled beneath his sweatshirt at the small of his back.

Ten minutes. Time felt swollen, dilated. Diseased with potential and pulsing inevitability. The silence he carried in his throat was starting to gibber and claw. He had to say something.

"What do you want with us?" he dared. "Why are we...why did you gather us? What are you using us for?"

His voice wasn't as strong as he hoped. He shot a glance at Tabitha. An absurd thing to be worried about, hierarchies and posturing, but it grounded him among all the other thoughts crowding his mind. All the darker and stranger stuff. Like how many people had jumped tracks just like these for the spectre calming preparing them for transport...on a train...to...

Oh, he thought. Another world. The tracks. They all followed her onto the tracks. She's talking about death. She's going to kill us all.

Having arrived at the right location on the C-Route, Michael was a little concerned about how many people were loitering here. If something was really about to happen here, especially something momentous, he wasn't sure how he felt about having such a crowd on hand. It didn't occur to him at first that they might all be here for the same reason. Really, such a thought would be no less insane than assuming all this ghost girl business was purely a figment of his imagination.

Yet, it turned out to be true. As the ghost girl arrived on the scene, Michael started to realise that not only were other people able to see and hear her, but she claimed they "all knew why they were here". The ghost girl had turned out not to merely be real, but be influencing more than one person. While this meant that Michael's theory that he had been going a little loopy was wrong, which was hardly a bad thing, he wasn't sure it was much better to be confronted with the fact that he was dealing with some kindof supernatural phenomenon. It was bad enough that he had been seeing some girl that was only spoken of in the context of an urban legend, but now he was part to something truly bizarre involving a "different world", if all he was hearing was to be believed. What on God's green earth was he supposed to make of any of this? Truth be told, a small part of him wanted to believe he was still just going nuts.

But no matter how much he pinched himself, he was still standing here, among a group of seemingly very real people, who all seemed at least partially as disturbed about this as he did. Some of these people he even recognised from around Lightbridge. He still didn't know what to make of this otherworldly bullshit, but he was at least starting to think there was a little truth to be had in this situation. Somebody else already decided to take point and ask questions. On one hand, she technically answered the questions the guy asked already, and at the same time, she really had not. Telling them they were going off to another world hardly gave them any information, and it ought to come as no surprise that telling people something so ridiculous would just confuse them and make them suspicious.

Although Michael had a thousand and one questions bubbling up in his own head, he chose not to speak out here. If anyone ought to be taking charge, he supposed it should be the police officer, and yet he felt a little ought of his depth here. He had never interrogated someone spouting nonsense like this before, so it wouldn't help anyone to have him be the one asking questions. On top of that, he wasn't sure asking questions would really help at all, since ghosty here had never been terribly straightforward when he had encountered her under the belief she wasn't even real. Besides, he was here in an off-duty capacity, so he wasn't really supposed to have a responsibility to take charge here. What he was prepared to do was step in if anything untoward started happening here, of course. He might not have a flying clue what the ghost girl had planned, but if she had even the tiniest sliver of ill intent here, he wouldn't hesitate to restrain here and bring her in. He was hoping it wouldn't come to that, however.

The first time someone came down the stairs to the platform Koda had perked up and span around to greet the Ghost Girl again, only the words died on his lips as realized they were not, in fact, the Ghost Girl, but some other nameless pedestrian. Or so he assumed, they loitered in the subway away from him and looked nervous, followed by another, and another, and soon he realized they carried masks of their own. The Others, he realized, somehow he'd thought they'd arrive as one, or at least headed by their ghostly guide, but no, it wasn't until the last arrived, another young girl, that the Ghost Girl returned. She didn't acknowledge him specifically, but he felt her attention turn to the group he stood with.

Then she gave him the one thing he wanted; the opportunity to get answers. This was something new, and as with all new things that came into Koda's life he wanted to explore it, learn about it. He barely slowed enough to let another finish asking their own questions, but they were weak questions, why and what were a good start, but phrased like that? He didn't waste his breath on the scoff he wanted to let loose, there were more important things to know:

""Transported to a different world,"" he quoted, mentally slapping the name 'Irriss' on a label under 'Other Worlds' and continuing on, "how is that achieved? Can we come back? Will we be using a wormhole or quantum transmitters? Is it dangerous? Will we have to account for time dilation? How did you get enough energy into a subway train to power this kind of travel? When you say 'world' do you mean it as in a planet or as in a parallel universe? What kind of-" His tirade of questions, the first few of the horde he'd been brewing since she'd left him here to fetch the others, was briefly interrupted when the mask in his hands made an awkward and insistent lurch- He barely paused for breath before swapping one question for another; "-and what the hell is this and why does it feel like it's eating my fingers?" He demanded with an annoyed look at the mask, raising it up to for emphasis. The misty blackness at its edges had expanded to wrap tightly around his fingers, much like a baby's hand might do, though decidedly creepier- and pricklier too. He kept forgetting it was in his hands, but it seemed to have had enough of being ignored.

It was... he didn't know. It confused him, made him feel... emotions he wasn't used to, couldn't properly name. He decidedly looked away from it, eyes snapping up to meet the Ghost Girl's in a silent challenge for answers. Already the annoyance from the weird mask was fading, replaced once more by excitement. He was going to learn something new here, and his lab back at Talos was finally going to get some use. Eventually. Apparently they were going on a field trip where these kinds of advancements were common place, or at least he hoped they were.

His mind was moving too quickly with the possibilities to even begin to guess at what he was dealing with; aliens? Actual ghosts? He was a scientist yes, but that didn't mean he was a skeptic, like how some scientists could reconcile their faith with their understanding of how the world worked- he could reconcile his understanding of how the world worked with the fact that some things he just didn't understand yet. It was actually a comon occurance that he didn't understand something, especially in his family where everyone was at least ten times smarter than him- but not this time, this time I'm the one doing the researching, finding the answers to something new! He realized suddenly he didn't have any equipment, just his phone, but the Ghost Girl had the answers, he could prove her words later.

The what wasn't the only thing he had problems ascertaining either though, it was also the why, and the more he thought about it the more credit he gave to the boy who'd asked questions before- sure Koda prioritized different concepts in their sparse ten minutes, but those other questions, pointless as they had seemed a moment ago, now might have actually had a point. He was suddenly faced with the fact that he didn't know where he was going, why he was going there, what he'd be doing, what he'd find, or when he'd come back- and it's Kenan's birthday tomorrow too, I'm going to miss my flight...

He was distracted by the mask once again, it's tangible shadow-like edges had pulled the tops of his fingers tightly against the edge of one of the hard glass-like triangles and he was forced to trade hands so it wouldn't cut him. Surprisingly the mask gave little fuss and relinquished his fingers with ease, only to try and ensnare the new ones that now held it in his off-hand. He really wanted to get this thing under a microscope, it felt like holding a sleepy octopus. He hadn't noticed the small aura of dark cloud-like tentacles surrounding the mask before, but they seemed obvious to him now, but after a second of looking at them too long they seemed almost... not there? As if they were switching between visible and invisible, which of course only made him want to study it more.

It only took a few seconds for Koda to consider all this; remembering his utter lack of information, acknowledging his possible disappearance, the mask's weird behavior, and then he was zeroed in on the Ghost Girl again, because she was the one with the answers.

Ascot saw Tristan tensing in fear, and he walked over to place his hand on the man's shoulder. "It'll be okay," he said with surprising strength, "we just don't have to do as she says when it is something obviously dangerous. In fact, we can actually flee; it's not as if she can stop us, considering the fact that she would have forced us here if she wanted to. Anyway, my name is William Ascot; what is yours'?"

Tristan felt like one of those people who hurt deep inside, with a haunting past. One of those people you needed to stay away from while at the same time wanted to hug. Ascot liked him already. Not that it stopped him from noticing Saffron's presence; he was a regular at Johnny's, after all. Withdrawing his hand and going over to the other young man, Ascot gave his most winning smile, then continued:

"Hey, Saffron. Nice to meet you outside of work. You look hungry and tired; I wish we'd brought something to eat while going here - my sister is with me, although I don't think her bag has any food. And, well, if what the Ghost Girl says about Iriss is true; we'll have to do more hard work foraging." He sounded ridiculous. But...True Reason accepts everything that exists, even if it cannot explain it. "Anyway, whether she's right or not, I think we should run off. Yes, I think we should run off, back to safety."

He then faced the Ghost Girl, "Sorry, but we are leaving. If you could have stopped us before, you would have done so by now. We are also not listening to your wiles; but we may keep the masks you gave us." Ascot dangled the mask he had been given. "We are not going to play your games, Ghost Girl."

"Zoe," Ascot turned to her, "let's go, and perhaps drag away those who are least willing to leave." A look at Koda.

"Hey, sciency guy!" He tried to be as brash as he could, "stop asking questions; we need to evacuate this place!" Then a turn to Michael, Kate, Smokey, and the rest.

"We are in a subway, and whether she is real or not, the Ghost Girl - or mass hysteria for the more skeptical - has led us here. This is also the middle of the night and the most dangerous time for people. So I think we should go back to our homes, and do whatever we want with the masks," He braced himself for opposition. "I, for one, am not going to die or be stuck for what could be multiple days somewhere else." People will just laugh at me, or greet my words with skepticism because I am so young. I should not expect a vote of confidence, to be followed.

More bracing for opposition. More expectations of having to fight so that people can see what was so self-evident. More moments of guilt and self-loathing for when he did get something wrong. It had happened before. He trembled.

Ascot looked at Zoe, knew she would always support him within reason. But he didn't want a crutch. He braced himself again; the lack of support was coming in 3...2...1...

@Daft Monarch@Redward@MechonRaptor

Saffron wasn't sure how much time had passed as he sat there, staring at the bag that had the mask. He wasn't sure what to do, and what was mere seconds turned into minutes, potentially hours? It was as if the concept of time was lost to him as he sat there, unsure of the voice and questioning what it meant by how he'd need the mask soon. I'm just going crazy, right? Stress and sleep deprived hallucinations, or something along those lines. There's nothing in the bag, I didn't hear her voice in my head... I'm just sitting here, waiting for my train to come, nothing more. He did his best to convince himself that, but deep down he felt that it was just a lie. And yet what had happened couldn't be true. He certainly didn't buy any mask at the stores he visited...

As he glanced up from his trancelike state of thought, he was surprised to see how many people had found themselves into the subway. Or rather, he was surprised how he didn't notice them coming. And yet, as he looked around he could feel some sort of silent tension among everyone. Something was going on here, but... what, and more importantly, why?

He supposed he got his answer when the last girl arrived down the steps, being led by a familiar being who made Saffron's skin crawl. He sat there, stiff as a board as she walked towards the tracks, turning to face everyone and telling him things he didn't want to hear. Ghost girl... the one from all the rumors. Shit, if that's true, then-
"The train is coming, after all."
The train I need to get home is... Saffron wasn't sure how to react to his current situation, trembling ever so slightly as he stared blankly downward. This was it, wasn't it? This was how he was going to die. Hit by the very train meant to take him closer to his home... And he didn't even get to say goodbye.

W-What's going to happen when I'm gone? Will he be alright? I-I can't just leave him, dammit! But, I can't even find the strength to move, let alone think clearly right now! I'm going to fucking die by some paranormal shit with the very train I was going to board, and all I can think about alongside that is why did I stay to shop?!

He couldn't comprehend how someone could be so calm as to ask questions to the ghost, as he felt himself that she would not reveal anything until death greeted them. He wanted to call the guy crazy, and yet here he was, terrified of the possibility that all of this was real. And it had to be real, they all couldn't be having some massive hallucination trip, right? He needed to find a grip on reality, or at the very least refuse to move at all. If he didn't leave this spot, he wouldn't be hit by the train and get killed, he could simply board it and get away from this situation and forget it like a bad nightmare.

It was only then that he heard a familiar voice nearby, causing Saffron to snap out of his despair and look up at Ascot. It took him a second to remember with all the thoughts buzzing through his head, and he blinked several times before recognizing the guy standing before him. He was a bit hard to miss, actually, as he frequented Johnny's to the point where everyone there considered him a regular. Saffron never minded him in the restaurant, and on occasion would make idle chit chat as he served him. Ascot said he was going to leave and that anyone who wants to do so should as well, but Saffron felt glued down to the place where he sat, shaking his head no out of nothing other than fear that moving would kill him. It was ridiculous, he knew that, but so was a Ghost girl rumor up until now.

"I can't afford to die or be taken, but I also can't afford to take a risk in leaving this spot." He stated rather bluntly, doing his best not to freak out and call Ascot insane for trying to leave. Of course, Saffron wanted nothing more than to get out of this situation as well, but the best way to do that in his eyes was wait for the train that he'd been waiting on already and simply, well, get on it. Stay still until the train stopped, jump on board, and forget this ever happened. That was his plan, and he swore he'd stick to it.