The little phone booth was in much worse condition than when he had seen it last. It's red paint had mostly peeled off, and that which remained was faded into pink. The glass was shattered in several places, and stained brownish green from a variety of gunk growing on its surface. Blades of tall flowering grass grew out of the booth's dirt floor.

But the strangest thing was that this was a rotary phone. Mister Reis knew this town was hopelessly behind the times, but even he was unprepared for such a discovery. Was it possible this strange curse was also responsible for this backwardness? There were no longer answers to even the simplest questions. He entered the booth, and shut the door behind him.

After spending a couple minutes trying to recall how to use such a phone, he then had to spend another minute fumbling around his pockets for some change. Luckily the cash register at the convenience store was run by an inept old woman who didn't take plastic, so he actually had some. It was only two nickels, but the rates at this phone were surprisingly cheap. He pushed the coins into the slot, and pushed the crank. His fingers rotated the rusted panel until a faded number 5 was visible, and then let go. The panel flung back to its home position. Yes, this was how these old things worked. Soon he'd entered in the last digit, and picked up the headpiece and pressed it against his face. The thing must have weighed at least twice as much as his cellphone, but that was the one good thing about old technology. They seemed to last longer without breaking.

He couldn't hear a dial tone or a ring, but kept the headpiece pressed against his ears hoping it would work. If it did, his phone would soon be blasting the most amazing ringtone ever at maximum volume while also vibrating. Hopefully that would be enough to get the girl's attention.

As David stepped through the hole into the other world, he looked around, sweeping his camera on video mode slowly in a circle around himself. The world he was seeing now was...weird. He'd heard the sirens of a police car approaching as he'd left the diner, but when he made a short walk around to where the front of the diner was, there was nothing. No one was there either, not any of the patrons or the cops that were supposed to show up. He took a picture of the front of the now barren diner and parking lots, before checking the shot and stowing his camera. He then turned to the bunch of other people that had followed him and took a picture of them too. After that, he stowed his camera and looked around for some sort of street sign.

"Well guys, I'm pretty sure we're not in Kansas any more. I'm heading to the police station. Heard sirens earlier but the cars that are supposed to be outside the diner aren't here. Gonna go see what's taking 'em so long."

That being said, he kept his camera in his hands as he found a sign pointing him to the police station and began his slow walk there. Hopefully the others would follow him, it would be a nightmare trying to track anyone in this weird...other world. It felt like this was what his friend had stumbled upon and maybe, just maybe, he'd find him here.

Sheriff Valerie Chang had stopped on the step outside the door, and she listened with engaged interest to the crazy story that spilled out of Gary's mouth. Occasionally her eyes flickered over to Jill, then back to Gary; she pressed a finger to her mouth and nodded understanding.

"Yes, yes, vines -- and a tiger -- I see, well, this is certainly a matter for the police to take care of." She grinned and smacked Gary on the shoulder with a heavy hand. "Good job. Carry on. Shoo, shoo." She swatted her hands in the air, a gesture to move along.

"Lemme go in first," insisted Deputy Marvin Wicker, who already had his gun out of its holster. He peered through the glass door into the diner. "If there's a wild animal in there, I'll take care of it!"

The sheriff let out a slow, annoyed breath and pinched the deputy's gun between two fingers, moving it so it was no longer pointing at anything breakable. "Paperwork, Marvin," she reminded him of the last time he'd discharged his gun unnecessarily. Sheriff Chang pushed through into the diner, while Marvin grumbled under his breath and holstered his weapon.

The two were inside for only a couple minutes before the door opened again. Marvin held the door open while the sheriff came out slowly, a comforting arm around Eleanor's shaking shoulders.

"He was there and then he wasn't!" Eleanor sobbed, a fistful of napkins pressed against her eyes. "We were standing outside the bathroom door, and Jeremy went to get the key, and I saw him come back -- and then he vanished! Along with a bunch of other people! Like they were never there at all!"

The Deputy cocked an eyebrow. "So did you see any vines or tigers?"

Eleanor sniffed and looked at Marvin like he'd lost his mind. "What? No!"

Sheriff Chang huffed a sigh and clicked on her radio. "Yeah we'll need to tape off The Fed Zone as a possible crime scene. Multiple missing persons. Apparently vanished into thin air. Print out another missing poster for Jeremy Lindall." Eleanor, hearing this, burst into another round of sobs.

Marvin patted her shoulder. "There, there. I'm sure he just got sick of you and ran off." He got a swift elbow to the gut for that, and he stumbled away to sit on the step.

Inside, the diner was empty ... and clean. There were no traces of vines or decay anywhere -- just plates of half-finished food and the puddle of strawberry milkshake on the floor. The bathroom door hung open, and beyond it were only the clean stalls and four intact walls, with a small high window that looked out onto the parking lot.

Everything was normal.

"Okay, I'm going to have to ask you three to come with me back to the station." Sheriff Chang hopped down the steps and gestured for Jill, Gary and Eleanor to follow. "You're going to have to squeeze into the backseat. I've got some case files I'd like you to take a look at, see if anything looks familiar." She stopped and stared at each of them suspiciously. "None of you are in trouble -- yet."

While the sheriff led the way to the car, Eleanor looked imploringly to Gary and Jill. "Did you see what happened? Do you know where my baby brother is?"



Just outside the hole in the bathroom wall -- where weeds poked through shattered sidewalks, houses sat crumbling with bowed roofs and hollow windows, and cobwebbed streetlights stared dark upon a cracked road -- a silent mist rolled low along the ground.

Everything was silent. Broken. Rusted.

David, Jeremy and Cheri were alone; D and Reis had run ahead down the street, lost in the shifting fog. The diner behind them had been completely engulfed in rot and plantlife.

There was no way back.

From here, they could see the sparkle of the lake, rolling with mist. There was something floating there -- something big, like a barge, its shape indiscernible -- that hadn't been there before.

To their left was the post office, heavy with vines. Its roof had been destroyed by a crashed propeller airplane, which stuck out of the shattered tiles at a precarious angle. The inside of the post office windows had all been plastered with envelopes, glued to the interior of the glass to shut out the light.

To the right was a row of houses and a few rusted cars left in the driveways. Their siding was faded and falling down, the eaves sagging and broken ... except one. In the middle of all the rest of the decay was a single small house with bright purple siding. A vibrant garden grew in front, softly accented by little stone sculptures and musical windchimes, gazing stones and birdbaths. A little sign outside the garden gate declared, in flowery painted writing: Psychic Readings $20

A short walk ahead, at the crossroad, was the town arcade. Its huge windows were jagged and broken by the roots and branches stuffed through them; leaves and green growing things stretched through the roof and invaded every crevice, as if the interior of the arcade were its own little ecosystem. A few of the consoles inside blinked and flashed haunting colored lights, forever beeping and trilling off-key tunes. Something moved inside -- a shadow shifting across the lights.


As D rushed through the streets after the last traces of the tiger, she would find that her visual equipment tended to fizzle and switch between modes without her interference. The analyses were all wrong, citing her current location was a small village in Norway, beeping motion sensors where there were only trees, and insisting a certain small sub shop ahead was in fact an upside-down nail salon.

The sound filters, however, picked up voices that she wouldn't hear with her own ears. They were garbled whispers, several voices at once, speaking nonsense if not a long-forgotten language, fizzling at the edge of the equipment's frequency.

At D's call for Maddie, she might hear a low, rumbling growl in the alley behind the arcade.

D might get the feeling she was being watched.

Stones and pebbles on the ground began to shiver and float up into the air -- as if suddenly weightless, they hovered a few inches off the sidewalk.

The fog billowed white and blinding. An electric tension hung taut in the air.

Then, suddenly --



Reis' phone blared noisily, buzzing and blinking.

All around D, pairs of glowing yellow eyes opened. They advanced upon her from all directions. The tigers growled.




Mister Reis would hear nothing at all in the phone. It seemed completely dead and defunct, and it had just eaten his nickles. Except, after a moment ...

help me

A staticky voice crept through the receiver. It seemed to be a child, voice quivering in fright. A little sob quivered in Reis' ear.

Joao ... please ... Joao, it's dark. the water's coming in. you said you'd come back. come back ...

A sharp rapping noise sounded on the door of the telephone booth. Outside Reis' booth stood a figure draped in a ragged purple robe, its face completely hidden deep within the hood, which had been cut to allow room for the huge pointed antlers that protruded elegantly from its head. Something about the way it stood -- the slope of the shoulders, perhaps -- suggested someone young and female ... but it was impossible to tell for sure until she pulled back a sleeve and tapped on her watch significantly.

She was waiting to use the phone.

@Girlie1Bomba@DJAtomika
"What?" Jeremy asked, both surprised to see that the woman who'd been shouting abuse at him and the others from before had decide to follow him, and momentarily confused at just what the hell she was talking about. "What're you even saying? We don't have a budget, we're a diner. I-, wait, are you saying you still think this is a friggin prank?!"

He threw his arms up into the air in frustration.

"OH. MY. GOD. NO." He said in exasperation. "How can this even be a prank anymore. Like, physically, how would that be possible. I mean, watch this!"

And then he ran around to the front of the diner, waved his hands around and jumped a bit, before running back.

"Tell me, what kind of budget would I need to completely ignore physics and build a set that bends space and time? Because I'll bet its beyond the price range of a small diner in the middle of nowhere!"

And then he paused, realising that Negan had been with him when he ran around to the front, and yet he hadn't returned. He spun quickly back to look in that direction, vaguely realising that he'd just said something about going to the police station.

"What, no!" He said, following him. "Wait up a sec Negan, have you never watched a horror movie before? We can't keep splitting the party! That's actual suicide at this point! No, I say we try and find Venkman. This seems like a pretty messed up, dangerous place, but I reckon it's a fair bit less dangerous with a laser gun, ya know? Also… well… the police station is down near the lake… and it's really misty down there… and can we please not?"

Those dark eyes hardened momentarily when the actor playing the Cook bitched her out. Perhaps she scowled. Perhaps she even sneered.

_{Another white-boy thinkin' he needs to show up the 'coloured girl' and set example of just how dang stooooopid 'coloureds' are...}

But that thought dissapated and quick. The storm that had suddenly descended upon that dark caramel hued face, washed away just as suddenly. Thin eyebrows popped up in sudden realization.

_{The actor's just trying to save his job! I almost just ruined it for him. Damn. my bad...!}

Of course he would not give in to her pleasantries; he was still in character! Man, this guy was good. He was playing up to the tourists here. And so Cheri had lightened up and reciprocated in kind by playing along in full.

Dark eyes popped open wide at his words. A moment of shock dropped her jaw open as he waved about at the 'decrepit diner.' She may have even brought a hand to her mouth to cover it in 'dismay.' A head shake and disdaining set of clicks escaped full lips. "Oh, you are so right. I am such a fool. You are so right, mister! Oh no...! What should we do now?"_{Acting, natch...!}

The tourist with the camera panned over to Cheri and the Cook actor. Reflexively, 'Cheri' had tilted down her chin and snugged her hood down lower over her face before he had turned to take a vid or snap of them. As soon as the tourist with the camera stepped off and mentioned police station, she piped up: "Great idea, mister!" But in actuality, she dug her heels in.

The set was more imaginitive and elabourate-- and realistic-- than any set she had seen before, but she was sure it would end somewhere. And if it ended anywhere near a police station, Cheri was just not having it. As if to accentuate the point, she snugged both packs of her 'precious green goods' tighter over her shoulders.

But she could dig it; Tourist with a camera was only acting out of natural instinct to turn to authority figures in times of 'crisis.' And Cheri could not help but smile when the actor playing the Cook mentioned something about 'not splitting up the party in horror movies' and chased on after the tourist with the camera. The actor just gave up the tell as to what this setup really was. And that was her cue. She waited a heartbeat longer, watching as the pair headed off. When just far enough out of earshot, she blew them a kiss, turned heel and marched away quickly.

No, she was wrong and he was right. This was not a prank. Not even close actually. It was something much, much, much bigger and waaaaaaaay cooler.

But first thing was first, she needed to hide her bags and she knew the perfect place to hide them. But that place was in the opposite direction of the police station. The spring in her step turned into some quick and slick dance steps as she sauntered away from the 'heroic men in this story.'

Someone had to play 'damsel in distress' afterall.

The hairs on the back of his neck crept straight up as the child's voice called out his name. The mood inside had grown so cold he could almost see his wispy, hushed breath escaping. His knuckles gripped the phone so hard they were as white as the ghost who addressed him. He could only force out a mumbled response, "Who... what... how do...".

Tap.

The sudden noise caused João to leap out of his skin. His body crashed into the side of the rickety phone booth, breaking some more glass and causing it to rock back and forth for a few moments. He dropped the phone and grabbed his now bruised shoulder as he stared wide-eyed at the strange creature waiting outside. All Mister Reis could see when looking at it was the Grim Reaper tapping its watch, indicating his appointed time had come.

He was trapped. The phone booth still had enough glass remaining to make escape through any other means than the door inadvisable. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The only option was to fight back.

He slowly extended his hand around the door handle, paused for a moment of last second hesitation, and then shot the door open with all his might and charged at the strange creature, intending to tackle it (her?) to the ground.

"Cultist! You will not take me alive!"

"Ma-W-...woah," D's pace slowed as she saw her gear failing. The weight of her suit seemed to setting to her in a heavier manner than usual. It was similar to the sense that humidity was clinging to her skin and making her feel uncomfortably maladjusted for the amount of space she had right in front of her. She opted to blame it on the signals transpiring faulty information...

Or were they?

Voices began rambling in her head. She had heard this before. It was annoying, as always, but usually her helmet could tune them out. Her fingers pressed several settings on her helmet, trying to relocate and gain some more accurate bearings, as well. Small breaths puffed from her, in through her nose and out with her mouth. I'm not panicking. A small smile pressed on her lips as she made light of the situation, You're panicking. I'm not panicking. I have no idea what you're talking about. No, not you, you! She played with the thoughts in her head by giving them silly voice, keeping the creative part of her mind occupied before it started jumping to hasty conclusions while she reworked the functions on her Mecha-GO Suit. It also helped her concentrate on herself than the outstanding phenomenon her gadgets were failing to blockade. Unfortunately, her own thoughts were beginning to lose patience with the fizzling, Come on, come on.

Both of her hands propped the helmet from her head. Her breaths panted, again, relieved from the static chaos. Her smile still remained somewhat in tact, not willing to admit any defeat, "Maddie? D called out, again, observing her surroundings with a naked eye. The atmosphere was different and eerier. She enjoyed the suspense, as a low growl rumbled through the alley way. Her arms cradled the helmet as her eyes squinted in the direction of the sound, trying to see through the rising fog.

"Wha..." her mouth dropped her smile, slowly opening to let out the word the half-word that escaped with an exhale. The small rocks on the ground bean to levitate, and her eyes darted around, hypothesizing at the fastest pace possible, having lost the use of several if not all of her electronic gadgets and weaponry. She wanted to make a comment, excited for what was happening, but a sense of fear was lingering inside of her. This was one of the first times she had felt uncomfortable in her suit, which needed to change quickly. D took a step forward, retracing the eventful hints that had happened, but interrupting her thoughts, the mobile in her pocket began chiming a song, which made her spine shiver and her eyes open wide. She had heard this song before on several different occasions. Rick Astley. She actually knew that, but she was not about to gloat. Now is totally not the time.

Fumbling with her helmet, she juggled pushing a hand into her pocket and pulled out the phone, pressing the off-button in a vain attempt to quiet the device. A long exhale went through her barely parted lips, budded and ready for the next move. There were yellow eyes in all directions. Maybe, Maddie...? She thought back to all the missing poster signs, considering smashing the phone if it did not stop soon. Her eyes quickly darted back at the vulturous ones glaring back at her from all directions. The most comforting thought she could think in this situation was, a pair of eyes would easily be her mother, coming back for her, just like Rick was suggesting...

This could be way bigger than I thought it would be.

Jill felt something cold run right through her.

She'd been in town for, what? An hour? Two? And she was being summoned to the police station with a story no sane person would believe. All the cities she'd drifted through since leaving home, and she'd never so much as sneezed in a police officer's direction.

She trailed obediently after the sheriff, but glanced around to make sure that her unnamed rescuer was following suit. She barely knew him, but she still knew him better than anyone else here. At the very least, they could corroborate each other's stories.

The redheaded woman, she didn't recognize, though her voice was familiar. Jill felt her throat close in the face of the stranger's grief, convinced before she opened her mouth that she was going to say the wrong thing. Heart pinching, she explained, "Whatever happened, I was stuck in the bathroom for most of it. I was the one yelling." She swallowed. "You…you were the one trying to help me, weren't you?"

Jeremy and David had wandered down the crackled street, through weeds and broken raised slabs of pavement, between houses vacant and gaping like reclaimed skulls. The cars were all rusted in the driveways, the windows all shattered. A buzz of insects droned in the high grasses. Far below, at the bottom of the weaving sloping road, mist rolled like something alive across their path.

There was no mistake: this place hadn't been inhabited for a very long time.

Except --

Occasionally they might pass a house that had been recently broken into.

A cold, charred bonfire pit in the middle of the street.

Graffiti, in bright purple and red, depicting complex symbols unusual to known gangs -- like something ancient and runic.

Ahead, less than a mile, the police station sat modestly along the lakeside road, its doors boarded up and plastered with graffiti and papier mache reliefs of fish and sharp-toothed monsters.

"... can we please not? ..."

A quiet, childish whisper trembled in the weeds all around them -- an echo of Jeremy's own words.

Someone, somewhere, giggled.

"... take their heads for our collection ..."

"... take their eyes for our stew ..."

"... give their bones to the lake ..."

Antlers rose up over the weeds and refuse -- followed by the shine of sharp blades and cunning bright eyes, locked on Jeremy and David.



Cheri, having turned her back on the two heroes, would find herself hiking uphill, through an old weedy strip mall, abandoned and boarded, its roof caved in and rotted. In front of what used to be a sew-n-vac shop, a half-dozen tigers lounged on the broken concrete, chewing on nondescript bones with pieces of bright red flesh still attached to them.

One of the tigers raised its head, its eyes shining a bright glinting yellow.

One by one, each of them stopped and turned its great striped head toward Cheri.

...rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...

The low, quiet, rumbling growl was behind her.

A tiger crouched low, only a few feet away, its long teeth bared and eyes glowing bright as suns.



Zoro launched out of the phone booth like a tiger, poised for the tackle. He hit his target -- but quickly he would find he was the one being manhandled, gripped and tossed onto his back on the concrete.

His attacker -- or victim, however one might define it -- lost her balance in the process and ended up stumbling backward into the weeds.

"Cultist!" a sharp voice squeaked, while she scrambled to her feet and brushed the stickers from her robe. "How dare you! Urchin! When I tell you to get out of my way, you get out of my way, you hornless rat!"

In the phone booth, the call stopped and the hanging receiver blared a disconnect tone.



D pressed ignore on the call, and the phone went silent -- but the tigers didn't avert their gaze.

They had stopped growling, and no longer seemed to be agitated by sound. They climbed down from their perches, advanced through the weeds and refuse, surrounded D in a tight circle, a moving swarm of orange and black, thick fur close enough to touch.

The biggest of the tigers stepped forward with huge silent paws, its scarred face peering up at her, eyes bright gold.

D's equipment fizzled, just a little. Her auditory sensors, on one particular setting, might pick up a static of soft whispers -- though what they were saying couldn't be determined.

The visual sensors showed nothing unusual on most settings -- but the night-vision would show her each tiger glowing bright ... and over each of them stood a humanlike shadow.

Meanwhile...

The police cruiser carried Gary, Jill, Akira and Eleanor down the winding residential roads, toward the lake that shimmered in the warming sun -- and the police station, small and unassuming on the lakeside street.

As soon as they entered, they could hear the muffled noise of an old man raving in a back room: "The rot is coming! The tigers stare into our souls! Listen to the trees! Listen!"

Sheriff Chang brought the visitors into her enclosed office -- slightly messy, an old CRT monitor heavy on the desk, next to a typewriter. She gestured for them to sit, and handed them a folder full of page-sized photographs. "Tell me if you recognize any of those."

Most of them were the photos of the missing persons that had been printed on flyers throughout the town -- including Maddie, and the antlered boy, whose name apparently was Simon -- but then there were others:

A dark figure in a cloak, standing on a street corner, antlers huge and ornate.

The yellow-eyed face of a tiger, staring out of a closet while a baby played with blocks in the foreground.

The huge, spiderlike shadow of something heinous perched upside-down on the ceiling of the local supermarket.

A portrait photograph of a wild-looking boy, scruffy as a beggar, his eyes glowing, piercing yellow.

"If anyone asks you," Sheriff Chang mentioned casually, dropping into her chair, "you never saw these pictures. Maybe you could talk to Roger, too -- you've got something in common, he might tell us something useful."

In the hall, the old man's voice howled.

"So you can talk." Joao struggled back onto his feet, wincing in pain. He put on his best act, hoping his words and manners showed no sign of his fear. He positioned himself directly in front of the phone booth. "You are not the one giving orders around here. Explain what in the hell is going on right now. What happened to this town? Why do you have horns? Why are there tigers, who the hell was that creepy kid on the phone! I won't go easy on you this time if you don't cooperate." He slinked his right hand around the back of his waist, as if he had a gun waiting to be drawn any second. If only that were true.

And so up the hill she climbed.

After hoofing it about halfway up, Cheri paused, unslung her bags, unzipped her hoodie and pulled it off. A deep breath she took as she used her dark hoodie to wipe dry the back of her neck and her arms, clearing them of the perspiration that she had built up. She pinched the fabric of her white tank top at her chest, yanking it repeatedly and swiftly to fan herself and allow for some air circulation to her girlies hiding in her bra and to her taut tummy below.

A smile could not help but pull up those full, dusky lips as she scanned the scenery before her. This truly was an impressive set. Houses and streets alike lovingly crafted to look as if abandoned for years-- decades even. This truly was the work of a multi-multi-millionaire production team seeking to provide the utmost real of realistic experience to those who could afford it. And Cheri was in the audition of her life to be an actor in this setup.

Or was this all merely the machinations of a madman?

Was that why Cheri did not turn around to enjoy the view? What was that little, slick and silvery voice telling her now? Oh, she knew that little voice in the depths of the back of her mind; it was the one that told her, reminded her, drilled her in regards to all the lies she led in this life. And what would it say if she turned around and saw that the set was impossibly stretched out beyond the borders of this town?

_{Another lie swallowed is best chased with a shot from a 9mm gun...}

"Shut up..." she growled underneath her breath. The smile vanished. Cheri shook her head several times. She slapped her own cheek twice. Cheri tied her hoodie around her waist and re-slung her bags over her shoulders and continued walking up the hill. “you just shut the hell up...”



The tall, lithe woman squeezed between old, moss-covered boards and emerged from the sew-and-vac shop. She had entered the from the back of the shop, mentioned out loud for the mics and cameras to pick up that she 'needed to pee' and proceeded to find the best hiding spot for her quarter-of-a-million-dollar-USD-price-tagged bags; in the space behind a couple of panels high above in the drop ceiling.

Yes, she did notice the state of overgrowth and look of abandonment after an age, and yes, it did enter her mind that perhaps all the shops and houses would have the same look and setup inside. Every single one of them. And so what would that mean?

Well, she would have to ponder all that later because for now, she came face to face with six magnificent and gorgeous striped beasts. Her mouth dropped open upon the sight; never once did she ever imagine she would be so close to such beautiful animals. A small laugh escaped her as she wiped at her eyes, in disbelief and, or course, in all consuming joy.

Then the rumbling of the apex predator from behind her.

And in that moment all thoughts of wondering where their handlers went ceased to exist. The half-dozen tigers on the concrete were just polishing them off, weren't they? Cheri lowered her chin and slowly turned around. It was so close she could reach out and touch it.

"You are sooooooo beautiful..." she smiled with much wist and such mist in her big, dark Spanish eyes, knowing and accepting her fate, "...but you just don't know how beautiful you are, now do you...? And neither do my baby bro..."

She could have easily reached into her waist band and unloaded two rounds, point-blank, into this tiger and then one each into the rest if the loud reports of the initial gunshots did not scare them away. And if need be, her switchblade would have to do. But she did not have the heart to shoot such magnificent and gorgeous beasts. Instead she held up both hands to the striped creature with the glowing eyes, palms towards it, keeping her gaze low and demure.

"I was only trying to save his life. The money is in the drop ceiling. Please bring it to him," she said soothingly but loud enough for the mics to pick up what she was saying, still believing that this was all just a set, right up till the very end, "his name is Arlando Charming Ellison and I love him more than anything. I'm his big sis, Coco. 'Sup, erry'one...

"Hah-ha... Shoot. Maaaaaaan... He ain't never gonna' believe I went off and reached out to pet a tiger..."

And that is exactly what she went and did.

"Natch..."

@DJAtomika
In all honesty, Jeremy wasn't entirely sure why he was still following David down the path. The mist was just getting worse, and he was beginning to feel tears welling up behind his eyes. Still, what else was he gonna do?! The new girl had up and vanished on them, and considering her apparent inability to realize this wasn't some high-budget prank, was probably off getting eaten by a demigorgon, because god damn it of course someone had to make the comparison! He was surprised none of the others had already made it!

And yet he still followed, because apparently he was just a bloody masochist.

Also because he was scared to walk back through the mist by himself.

And then he froze, almost thinking he heard voices for a second, but quickly dismissed the thought. Not because it was crazy, but because if it was real, he'd probably immediately go insane from terror. He managed to calm himself down for a second, before hearing something that sounded distinctly like 'bones to the lake', and barely managed to stifle a shriek with his hand. Thankfully though, he did, and he decided it was about time to put some of those breathing exercises his old sensei had taught him to calm himself down.

After a few moments of this, he finally let out a deep sigh, visibly relaxing, and opened his eyes.

Only to see antlers rising from the bushes to their left, accompanied by the glints of reflective eyes and blades.

Freezing in place, it was all he could do to flail his arm around to the side, before finally making contact with David's shoulder and rapidly slap it lightly, hoping he was actually succeeding in drawing the photographers attention as he stared at...

Well, he supposed he was probably staring at their deaths.

The transmissions in her headgear fizzled; and the thought of her mother quickly vanished; but D did not bother to move. Her mind began instantly counting the glowing eyes staring at her. However, she stopped her mantra of numbers upon noticing looming shadows hovering ethereally around each tiger. Parting her lips slightly, D drew in calculated breaths, and her toes wiggled in anticipation. She was not sure if she should be scared or excited, and her mind was racing in both directions was her body stood in the parting ways, at the crossroads of which step to take next -- mindlessly staring through her dark eyes while too unsure of what to do. For several seconds, she remained like this, trapped in a detention mindset and then she finally relented and let down her guard:

Her helmet shifted under the pull of her arms when her body relaxed, leaning on one leg with a hip curving outwards in an inquisitive manner. She drew in a deep breath and decided to find the best way to maneuver herself through this. There was some book she read (but did not finish) from Malaysia or Japan about therianthropy, and holy zoology, Batman, none of it said anything about how to properly socialize with these beings, especially after what most likely seemed to be...

Her thought disappeared as she rested her shoulders and bent her knees, deciding the bickering words pestering her mind would be less than suitable for introducing herself to paranormal creatures, and she propped herself into a non-threatening position. It was the least she could do. If they wanted a fight, hopefully the big girl in the back wouldn't fail her like she did back at the restaurant. D put her headgear to the side of her and let the heavy machinery take a small break. It was malfunctioning already in the eerie wilderness of Duskwick.

Girlish Pollyanna desire always got the best of her, and even in the first scenes of this adventure, D had no way to shake the attitude. She took relaxed breaths, reminding herself of her lifework and training. It was nerve wracking not to have her father here, for one, but to have her first mission without him be this...

Maybe they will all be like that tiger from Aladdin...

Gary Riley

Gary remembered the phone resting in his pocket; a full recording of what he had witnessed. He had considered turning it over to the police. After all, it was video evidence, and could potentially be useful in locating the missing persons, or at the very least convince the police woman that he wasn't full of shit. Yet still, he was reluctant to hand it over, and continued wrestling with the idea.

"If anyone asks you, you never saw these pictures," the sheriff told them.

Oh. So they were trying to keep the investigation a secret, then. Why, he wondered. Were they concerned that it would look bad if the police station was committing resources to investigating ghost stories? Were they trying to cover the incident up to avoid a panic? Were they carefully regulating the information, to lure people in with the mystery, and maximize the town's tourism revenue?

He wasn't going to turn the phone over, he decided. It would be confiscated - he might not see it again, and if he did they would likely delete the video. The people had the right to know. The question was, how was he going to get this information out without running his career and his name into the ground, or getting into trouble with the local authorities?

In the meantime, he would help with what was in front of him. "I told you there was a tiger," he said, pointing to the photo of the tiger in question. "I didn't exactly commit it to memory, though, so I don't know if it's the same tiger. That girl and that kid, I saw them both in the diner. I don't know where they went to in all the chaos, though. And I don't recognize the rest of the pictures," he shrugged, and then frowned. "Some people went into the bathroom, and I don't know what happened to them, but I think they might be the next entrees on the missing persons list."

"Hope I helped. Not a word of this conversation will leave this room," Gary said, rising to his feet. "I'll ignore the fact that you just equated me to a raving old man, but I'll talk to him regardless." He glanced down at the woman he had escaped the diner with. "You coming?"

Jill was pale and still as she took in the pictures. "Shit got weird," she'd told the man with the knife. Apparently, weird was not so weird here. The photos would have made for incredibly detailed fantasy art, if she didn't already know how plausible they were.

The old man's yelling made her wince, further jangling her already-jangled nerves. She met the eyes of the incredibly self-possessed man next to her and swallowed, gripping the armrests of her chair for support. She nodded her agreement, then remembered the water cooler she'd spotted on her way in the door. Holding up one hand, she spoke to both the man and the sheriff: "Would you excuse me just a moment?"

Wishing it weren't so conspicuous, she reached into the appropriate pocket and palmed the prescription bottle tucked inside. She ducked out of the room and tried her best to be invisible as she grabbed a cup, filled it with water, and downed it with half a pill—not a strong enough dose to make her listless, but enough to calm the tremors that kept threatening to turn to full-on shakes.

"Sorry," she murmured as she returned, even though a voice in her head—Bobby's, it was definitely Bobby's voice—said, "You have nothing to apologize for."

She moved to join the man—whose name she still didn't know; wasn't it strange the sheriff hadn't asked for their ID?—and then froze. Her ID. One hand went automatically to her back pocket, where her phone should have been.

But it wasn't. It was still on the floor of the bathroom, where she'd dropped it. Or was it? She glanced toward the sheriff, trying not to look too alarmed. "My phone," she said. "I dropped it in the bathroom. It's got my ID in the case, and my credit cards—" She stopped, took a breath. There was a baggie with emergency cash in her duffel, but that was a temporary patch to a much bigger problem. "Are there any officers still at the scene? Can someone get it for me, or take me back for it?"