Nowhere, USA
Population: 3284
12:04 AM

A modest log cabin home sits in an open field, on one side, a chain-link fence separates the property from a corn field. On the other side of the field, a large cluster of trees, with a river running through it. The sun had set hours ago, but only now was a mist rising, spreading out from the forest, and quickly enveloping a sizable portion of the town. It enveloped a large portion of a cornfield. It crept around the new housing development. It settled on a cattle grazing field. It even rolled several blocks down main street.

And it completely swallowed up the field, with the solitary modest log cabin.

From out of the trees, through the mist, a soft, glowing light came drifting toward the house. It approached a window, stopping just outside of it. There was a scratching sound on the glass, and the occupant inside stirred. She sat up, drowzy, but smiled at the small light outside her window.

"Do you wanna play?" It didn't answer. The child hopped out of her bed, sneaked out of her room and down the hall. She slipped into a coat, and boots, and left the front door wide open as she hopped down the steps of her front porch, the light shining just above.

She trotted across the field, toward the trees and the sound of the rushing river, giggling the whole way as the light bobbed this way and that, leading her along.

She went down a path, turning this way and that, her spectral playmate just ahead, and above, until they got to a point where the house couldn't be seen through the trees. It flew up high, and she stopped just under it, reaching up as she laughed, hopping in place, reveling in the pale, blue-white glow.

Then the light turned bright red. She blinked a few times, as if only just waking up. Her eyes went wide as she stared at the light, and began to shake, frightened.

"...Muh, Maw- Mommy! MOMMY!!" She turned and ran as fast as she could, but she didn't know which way she was going- the light began swooping down at her, giving shrill screams as it chased her, the only sound the girl could hear over the river. It came down to her level, moving along the path as it closed in on the girl.

She risked a glance back-

And fell.


Her grandfather bolted upright, waking up to the screams. He rushed as best as he could, but running was out of the question at his age. He practically jumped into his boots, clad only in sweat-pants and an under-shirt, flashlight in hand. It couldn't even penetrate the mist, but he still tried to search, swinging it this way and that as he called out to the child.

"Moira!... Moooiiiiraaaa!!" He continued, in a Scottish accent, trotting this way and that, calling out as his daughter dialed emergency services. He kept calling to her, even after the girls screams went quiet...






ONE WEEK LATER...

The roaring of a motorcycle engine could be heard as Johnny rolled up the main street of nowhere. He had recently rented a hotel room here on the request of his therapist saying he needed to get away from the area of the incident. Stopping at a gas station to fill up his motorcycle he politely asked one of the locals for directions to the local hotel on the hunch that the man was feeling particularly happy right then. "Its just down main street and too the left" the man said joyously. " Thanks dude" Johnny said to the man and after paying for gas he rode down to the hotel. After checking in Johnny decided to stop by the town's local diner that was named The Greasy Spoon for a bite to eat. Ordering a cheeseburger and fries Johnny began eating when he heard a couple talking about how a little kid recently died. " They say she fell in the river, well why was she in the woods? " Johnny heard them whisper. 'so a kid died' he thought to himself , maybe Nowhere wasn't the perfect town his therapist made it out to be.

"I still don't see why you didn't give that last boy another chance. What was his name, Nicky?" Zeni's grandmother prodded, dashing any hope that the unsubtle when-will-you-settle-down conversation wouldn't happen this visit.

She let out a sigh on a soft breath, adjusting her grandmama's pillows the way she liked - two deep and fluffed as high they could go. Turning back, she replied, "Nico, not Nicky, yiayia, and you know he didn't visit me once in the hospital. I haven't seen him in over a year."

Her yiayia looked away, pursing her lips in the universal and intergenerational sign of passive displeasure. Thankfully, Zeni had a trump card. Helping her favorite elderly relative up from her comfy chair, the brunette slyly added, "Besides, Nico was short for Nicolo... do you really want your only grandchild to bear the last name of a Sicilian?"

It was petty to use it against her, true, but her yiayia's experiences in WWII had engendered a longstanding, rather impressively seething hatred of many things - including (but not limited to) Italians. Yiayia narrowed her eyes and spat to the side, sniffing delicately and dropping the subject. Zeni escorted her to bed and turned on the DVD of "House, M.D." she'd brought for her, letting herself out after a big hug and yiayia extracting a promise to take her out for breakfast the next morning at the Greasy Spoon. Exiting her grandmama's cozy bungalow located in the town center of Nowhere, she headed straight for the only coffeeshop she'd found so far, surprising the barista as he swept the floor in preparation for closing.

"I know you're about to close, but would you mind?" She murmured, tilting her head to the side with a wry smile. He nodded, eyes widening almost comically a moment later when she ordered a depth charge. Pulling her bulky cardigan closer around her slight form, Zeni strolled down the street, sipping her drink with a satisfied hum. With the sun slowly lowering toward the western horizon, casting a rather pastoral glow on everything, she wondered again why her grandmother insisted on moving here five years ago. Nothing ever happened here, not really...

"Yup. Yup. That guy is definitely putting those in his ass," snickered Steve as he looked down the aisle at his fellow shopper, observing his selection of Vaseline and watching as the product found its place in the man's basket, amidst the cucumber and zucchini that had already taken up residence in the cart. Oz looked on at their suspect, taking in the visage of an old and grizzled man, one that hadn't shaved in what looked liked weeks and could probably tell you a tale or two about his storied life, almost certainly with a sprinkle of awkward racial undertones.

"Shut the hell up," Ozzie said finally with a dismissive wave as his attention went back to the shelves. He and Steve recalled their two favorite foods earlier. After a long debate, Ozzie decided Supreme Nachos were the best while Steve maintained that you couldn't beat an ice cream sundae with bananas and chocolate syrup. Naturally, there was only one way to resolve this. You have to create the ultra mega food. Eyes wide and shimmering like diamonds, Steve and Ozzie sprung from their chairs with an exorbitant amount of enthusiasm and ran to the P***y Wagon, the 1965 rust-spotted pale blue Ford Station Wagon with it's name spray painted in red across the tail gate. One Ice Nacho Creme Supreme later and the duo found themselves back at the store desperately seeking out the pink miracle elixir was was Pepto Bismal. "Got it," Ozzie exclaimed, holding the bottle up valiantly as if discovering the Holy Grail. A routine transaction later and the two men found themselves outside, one of which who had already ingested nearly half of the bottle.

"Hey! Bro! Stop, you fu-" Steve slapped at the bottle, trying to seize it, demanding his fill.

"Hey, I nah done, duuuuu!" Oz shouted, not even letting the rim of the bottle leave his lips. They impressively slapped it out, Ozzie thrashing his strongest of two confusingly weak arms against Steve's aimless fury of violent jazz hands that came crashing down on Oz's shoulder and back. "FINE!" came the booming surrender as Oz passed over the last third of the bottle.

Steve emptied what was left and continued to stroll with his red-eyed pal as they came to the back end of the parking lot where Oz's majestic chariot awaited. Ozzie suddenly stopped and started as if witnessing a haunted vision.
His eyes fell upon a young woman cupping some coffee just down the way as she strolled. Taking her in, he managed one sound... "Huh."

Steve wasn't blind and his pupils also lasered in on the woman down the road. "Forget it, bro. Look at you," he said with a sideways glance and a grin. "Look at your gross ass fingernails and your friggin' neck beard! Bro, why do you even have that? You can fix that in like 5 minutes, tops, and here you are. That and you don't mix. If you're getting lonely, we are on the wrong street, my friend. I can show you a corner or two." Steve's words were fading out until Ozzie was completely ignoring him, the looming sounds of a quiet town and the nocturnal life slowly transitioning, letting their waking process be heard.

"Just shut up," Ozzie finally stammered, his sobriety fighting a battle with his flame-activated euphoria. "Should I... Should I just..." Before Steve could even inject an answer, Ozzie's hand shot up in an unnatural and awkward, almost violently rapid wave as he tried to get the woman's attention.

ȤЄƝƖ ƓƛƬƛƘƖ

Location: Bumfuck, USA // Interaction: @BlackXIII

Glancing up from a concerned perusal of the setting sun, Zeni's face pulled into a grimace of confused irritation at the sight of the rather unkempt gentleman waving her over like an angry Japanese grandmother. Was... was that a neckbeard? She shuddered in remembrance of the hipsters invading Chicago who somehow thought that too much facial hair and plaid shirts were the height of fashion. Adjusting her backpack higher on her shoulder, she paused briefly, allowing the weirdo to catch up as she sipped at her crack cocaine of choice and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She found interactions with the homeless to be highly amusing at times.

It occurred to the Greek graduate student that she wasn't a particularly nice person any more... and then harrumphed, thinking she had damn good reason to find amusement where she could. Considering she carried no cash and had a climbing axe with a rather sketchy history on her, she'd take her chances. Facing the oddball head on and loosening the lid of her coffee cup, Zeni arched an eyebrow and waited, keeping an eye on the darkening sky.

S I D

Location: Nowhere, USA > The Greasy Spoon

"Absolutely starving." Sid announced loudly as he entered the Greasy Spoon, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He was greeted with a few stares, mostly from the locals; he greeted them with a small wave and a bow of his head before quickly made a b-line to an open seat. He slid his bag off of his shoulder and let it rest by his feet, quickly threading his foot through the straps so no one would go wandering away with it if he wasn't paying attention. Thankfully he wasn't waiting long, a waiter quickly approaching him for his order.

"The usual?" The man asked, causing Sid to awkwardly rub the back of his head. He'd been here nearly a week and had eaten here nearly every single time. This waiter had dealt with him nearly each visit. Look, it wasn't his fault he wasn't a huge fan of having a variety of foods daily. He liked what he liked and it was usually what he wanted.

But under the slight scrutiny of being called out- "No, I think I'll try something a bit different... uh." Grabbing a menu off the table, he scanned over it quickly. "Cheeseburger, a bunch of fries... side of toast, wait, this comes with three sides? No extra cost?"

"No extra cost."

"Great! A side of toast, two scrambled eggs, and some lightly grilled mixed veggies." After rattling off his order, him and the waiter shared some quick chit-chat before the man went on his way. Taking the chance, he looked around and spotted a newspaper. Sneakily- but not really- he reached over and pulled it from another tables chair, the chattering couple not noticing. Flipping the paper around, he huffed softly as he glanced at the front page. The whole town had a bit of a gloom over it, so much gossip. He hadn't paid much attention to the whole thing outside of being warned about going out on the trails that went farther into the woods, but apparently it had turned out to be quite a big deal.

Instead of lingering on the headline news, he skimmed a few pages until he found the comic section.

An old man with grey-white hair (with just a few wisps of red) and a heavy five o’clock shadow, as well as heavy bags under his eyes, stepped into the Greasy Spoon. He was carrying a stack of flyers in one arm.

The whole diner grew awkwardly silent. The man behind the counter was the first to speak up. “H-hey, Angus... Sorry about your granddaughter, man. What can we do for you, and your daughter?”

The eponymous “Angus” looked around the diner, nervously, before speaking up in a heavy Scottish accent. “Yes, uh, I was… I want to put a flier or two in the window?”

The man looked confused, “I thought Greg an’ them were already putting out a search for-”

“They’re not going to find any man, and you know it! I’m posting a bounty for the will-o-wisp what killed my granddaughter!”

A man in a denim jacket and aviator sunglasses at the counter lowered his copy of the local paper, looking to the old man. “Mr. McColm?” Whoever this man was, he knew enough Gaelic culture to pronounce the name correctly; sounding it out like ‘column’. He hopped off the bar stool he was sitting at, gave a conspicuous glance around the diner, and approached the old man, trying to speak in hushed tones, “Sir, I thought we had an understanding; you need to trust us, and let us handle this.”

Angus wasn’t having any of it, he drew himself up straight, and spoke louder, “You don’ tell me mah business, Irishman! The sheriff an’ ‘em are wasting time-”

“Angus!” The man’s shout was sharp, and sudden, as he took off his own sunglasses to look the man in the eye. He stunned the old man into silence, with his intensity, so he’d achieved his goal, but composed himself to continue quietly, “we need to step outside, where we can talk in private, alright?”

The whole diner was tense, now. Angus shook his head, “No, I have a right-”

“Please don’t make me use the handcuffs, sir. I am deputized, and you’re disturbing the peace.” The old man reddened at that, but closed his eyes, nodded, and quietly walked out ahead of the apparent deputy.

He stopped at the door, and spoke aloud, to the patrons, “You all can go about your business, I’ve got this. And be sure to be inside before dark; just because we’re no longer searching for Moira McColm, doesn’t mean we’ve lifted the curfew.” He put his shades back on, and stepped out, proceeding to have a discreet conversation with the old man in the cab of a camper truck, out front.

At that same time, a local police vehicle was slowly driving along main street, speaking over a loud speaker, “Curfew, comin’ up. The curfew is still in effect, folks. Finish your business, and get on home.”

The squad car turned the corner, driving past the town square, just in front of the grocer/drug store. There was an ‘incident’, for lack of a better term. It had stopped, before the car had glided up to the scene, and they seemed to be trying to talk to… Whoever she was, she wasn’t a local. The window of the squad car rolled down as the vehicle came to a stop.

“Ma’am, are these gentleman bothering you?” The deputy in the drivers’ seat had a look of annoyance on his face, and stared daggers at them the whole time he spoke, even though he was talking to her. “I can tell you’re not from around here; I’d recognize you, otherwise. Whatever your business in Nowhere, is, I’d advise against violating curfew, or hanging around with the ‘village idiots’. Who, I’m sure, are red-eyed on account of shedding tears of sympathy for the McColms, in this time of tragedy, and aren’t in need of a ride to the station for a drug test-”

“Now, now, Deputy Holtz, no need to be so hard on these young men. You’ll make the visitors think twice about coming back- current events, not withstanding!”

A man in a very professional suit was just reaching the end of the parking lot, a grocery bag in one arm, a carton of milk in the other. He had a devil-may care smile, and a mischievous look in his eyes. “I’ll see to escorting these people home.” He had a look over the two men, and arched an eyebrow, “...Or where-ever it is they’re staying for the night. Meet you at the station, after curfew, Deputy. You go ahead and finish your patrol.”

The Deputy looked even more annoyed with this man and his dismissive attitude than with Ozzie, but gave him a curt nod, rolling up his window as he gave his grumpy farewell, “I’ll meet you at the station, Agent Brand.” And rolled along, resuming his broadcasting through the streets.

Once he was gone, the be-suited man spoke up, again, “I apologize for not minding my own business; I just don’t see any good to be had by hammers treating every problem as a nail- we, in the FBI, prefer a more subtle approach, less blunt force, more… Finesse. So, where are we all going? Mustn’t go about lying to the local authorities, after all...”

Another conspicuous glance at ‘Cheech and Chong’, and at the woman, “And to whom do I owe the pleasure?...”

ȤЄƝƖ ƓƛƬƛƘƖ

Location: Bumfuck, USA // Interaction: @BlackXIII, @BenG85

After opening her mouth, intent on answering the officer-or, Deputy, so fancy - of this backwater, the slim brunette watched the interaction between the two men, enjoying their contrast of awkward and slick city manners. Arched eyebrow almost hitting her hairline at this point, Zeni sipped her coffee, thinking that this town was much weirder than even the artists' commune she'd lived next to in Boystown, Chicago. Curfew? Eyeing The Suit, as she'd dubbed the agent, she decided that the overly smooth quality of his personality did not... suit... the town. He seemed out of place.

She probably shouldn't find her own puns funny. Probably.

Shaking herself out of her own amusing reverie, she realized the Agent had asked her a question, responding to it with a brief nod and a soft, "Ms. Gataki". Her grandmother would quite literally slap her silly if she allowed some Suit with out of date haircut call her by her first name. Yiayia was odd like that sometimes. She tugged self consciously at the collar of her giant black cardigan, glancing down to make sure the scars were fully covered. Something else occurred to her, head snapping up so her dark eyes met his directly.

"Speaking of local authorities, since when does the Bureau build field offices in extremely remote locations with little to nothing going on in the way of criminal activity? I find that much more interesting than my accommodations for the night."

Hearing the shuffle of feet, Zeni then remembered the homeless neckbeard, turning to him briefly and taking in the state of his bloodshot eyes. "I don't carry cash, sorry." Returning to her conversation with The Sui-err, Agent Brand, she awaited his response with a tilt of a smile.

As soon as the squad car came into view, Ozzie and Steven knew what had to be done. Luckily they were well versed in culture and science, or at least how they are portrayed in films. As the hairs on their arms stood on end, an electrical surge of warning coursed through their body, triggering their educated instinct. The two immediately froze in place, knowing that if they were still enough, they could be rendered invisible to the naked eye. Where before people could see a hairy man sporting a beanie and a worn white t-shirt covered by a denim jacket standing beside his bald faced companion decked out in a dark red jumpsuit, now they could see nothing, according to the science.

“Ma’am, are these gentleman bothering you?” called out the Deputy Holtz. Not still enough, Ozzie immediately concluded. He can still sort of see us... To aid in his concentration, Ozzie took a deep breath and held it. Steve, hearing the gasp, quickly followed suit. Their already glossy eyes began to gradually puff as tears slowly formed, barely being contained by their eyelids. Their pale complexion became rosy as the conversation continued without them.

"So, where are we all going? Mustn’t go about lying to the local authorities, after all...” Agent Brand, FBI Agent, asked before exchanging introductions with Ms. Gataki, Beautiful Stranger. The pressure was becoming too much to bear as his reserve oxygen seemed just about depleted. Ozzie began feeling lightheaded and nauseous while horrified and panicked at the same time. It was time to become visible again.

In a crow of defeat, Ozzie gasped once more in a desperate attempt to refill his lungs. His body suddenly felt too heavy as he leaned over, bracing himself on his bent knees, feverishly breathing to catch his wind once more. Just then the woman turned and looked right at him. Time stopped for a moment as his bad, sickening nausea turned into a happy butterfly type of nausea. Her angelic voice fluttered out of her mouth with the grace of a swan, swimming delicately to his ears, caressing them with her velvet words...

"I don't carry cash, sorry."

And then she turned away once more.

Ozzie's chest sank, his mouth gaping in utter dumbfoundedness, unable to conceive of any sort of appropriate reaction. His heart dropped so hard that he felt like he could hear it hit the ground with a thud. A pretty heavy thud, as if it were coming from just behind him. With a cautious turn, Ozzie looked over to see an unconscious Steve who was now back to being visible as well, though it didn't look like a planned revelation.

Snapping back to the woman and the FBI Agent, Ozzie finally spoke.

"That's..! I mean, I'm not- Ugh!" The words were frustratingly hard to come by. "WE DON'T SELL... CASH... wait- Sorry for, um. My name is Ozzie! YES!!! My name is Ozzie and this is my friend Steve. He might be dead. But, I mean, it's cool though. We're not that close." Ozzie looked at the limp body. The chest could be seen moving in a rhythm which brought a relieved smirk to Oz. "Ya! See, I keep telling him you can't stay invisible for too long. Heh. He's not the sharpest lightbulb in the toolshed."

Johnny had been eating when he heard the old man speak of monsters that took his daughter. Well maybe they weren't exactly monsters but these Willow'O'Wisps sounded evil enough if they drowned a little girl. His thoughts turned back onto the night his friends died a monster had killed them too. He was conflicted as his therapist said nowhere was peaceful but there was also this problem. "Fuck it" he muttered as he got up and paid for his food. He then ran out of the greasy spoon passing a man who was reading some comics as he did. These "agents" had said they would take care of it but Johnny wanted to kill every one of these monster bastards he could find.

Searching for a tiny bit outside of The Greasy Spoon Johnny eventually found the old man. " Hey! " he called out to him. Jogging up to the old man Johnny held his hand out to shake. " Hey I heard you were searching for those wisps , I've also had an encounter with a creature and I want to help" he said sincerely. Johnny hated these monsters as much as one could. At this point Johnny figured screw his therapist she had sent him here so if anything happens it's her liability.

Smiling wryly at the thought of his therapists face when Johnny told her about this trip he refocused months Old man. " All I need is a weapon sir" he said smiling.

S I D

Location: Nowhere, USA > Outside of the Greasy Spoon
Interactions: @Jasper19 @BenG85

Finishing his food after it was brought, Sid kept himself occupied with his carefully borrowed newspaper. There wasn't anything too interesting to be found within, the comic section was alright, the advertisements were for some other smaller local businesses, and everything else was fairly basic. Nothing really stood out to him. So instead of looking at it for much longer, he folded it neatly back up and slid it back into its previous place at the nearby table. Pulling out his phone he began to scroll through some article about some old time-honored traditional meals in the south.

He was sure it was going to be another boring evening, especially after curfew hit. At least until the old man came in and started to make a scene. Nothing had really been going on before, so when the deputy-sheriff-person got up to settle it, Sid couldn't help but take notice. Even after the two had gone out, he couldn't help the curiosity he felt. He'd promised his Elisi he would not bother with this kind of thing, wouldn't even stick his nose into it! If he ever heard anything on it, he was to leave immediately.

Unfortunately, the moment he watched some blond guy pay and rush after the man and the deputy, he found himself standing up in a hurry to follow after them. He grabbed his bag and paid quickly before rushing out after them, suddenly fearing he would loose them easily. His fear was for naught; they hadn't gotten very far. In fact, he showed up just in time to hear the tail end of whatever the young looking stranger was saying.

"Why do you need a weapon?" He asked, gently gripping onto one of his backpack straps as he stared forward.

The camper truck had begun to pull forward, the man in the denim jacket rolling down the drivers' side window. "Gentleman, Mr. McColm needs to be getting home for the night, and I urge you to do the same." He gave a conspicuous look to the old man over the top of his shades. "Anybody out past curfew without a badge is liable to have a bad night. Move along, now." He didn't give them a chance to respond before pulling into the street and driving away.

Angus heaved a sigh. "He's righ', y'know. No' enough time to make a plan, right now. Ah thank ye lad, for your interest in helpin' an ol' man, in dire straights, but we won't fair too well if we run off 'alf cocked, as they say." He patted Johnny on the shoulder, "Meet me 'ere, t'morrow, alrigh'? An' G'devenin' to you, laddie. Y'are invited too, since y'are curious, but for me, ah got to get home, f'r that damned wisp comes after me, next!" And without another word, he turned and walked away, presumably to a car parked elsewhere.



The Agent gave a chuckle, "You misunderstand; we don't have an office out here, I'm on a special investigation, 'on loan', one might say, and I supposedly have the full cooperation of local law enforcement. The curfew is a necessary precaution, and hopefully doesn't go as far as road blocks- you don't seem like a local, yourself, Ms. Gataki. I apologize that there isn't more time to explain some of what's going on, but I'm sure one of the locals-"

He paused, as if he just remembered something he'd forgotten. He looked sideways at Ozzie and Steve. "Is your friend alright to walk, or do you gentlemen need a ride home? I could call the deputy back...?" He paused to let that sink in, knowing of course they were stoned out of their minds. "If you're alright, well, I do have a schedule to keep, and must be getting Ms. Gataki back, for the night. Shall we?" He offered the elbow of the arm carrying his milk.

Johnny nodded and said " Goodnight to you to sir" he said then turned around to see who else spoke. Johnny was somewhat surprised when he was who spoke it was this super tall dude with a interesting scar against his tanned skin. " I'll tell you but not out here" he said as it was nearing night. Walking to his motorcycle Johnny gave the guy his helmet "here take this you need it more than me" he said then got on his bike. After the guy had gotten on Johnny fired up his bike then quickly sped towards the hotel passing some nasty ass stoner looking dude and a worn out looking chick talking to the feds as he rode through the town center. Reaching the town's hotel fairly shortly Johnny put down the kickstand and hopped off his bike. " Be sure to bring my helmet in the room" Johnny told the tall dude. Opening the door to his room Johnny waited for the guy to walk in and closed it. " sorry if I seemed shady didn't want to be out in the open at night with those wisps around" he said. Walking over Johnny held out his hand for a fistbump. " Sup dude names Johnny " he said then flopped onto his hotel rooms bed and began to take off his thongs.

One he got his feet free which was a relatively easy task Johnny looked at the guy. " as for why I need a weapon it's to kill the wisps and any other motherfucking monster that that I come across" he said plainly. " had an incident with one , my friends died cause of it so I'm trying to kill all the bastards I can and luckily my therapist recommended me a place that has a monster problem whether she knew that or not" he said with a smile. " how about you? Why are you here in this town? " he asked the man.

ȤЄƝƖ ƓƛƬƛƘƖ

Location: Nowhere, USA // Interaction: @BlackXIII, @BenG85, @Jasper19 (mention)

Hearing Le Neckbeard's eloquent conversation with himself, Zeni turned back briefly to take a closer at him as she realized he was not, in fact, a bum. Wait... this was what he looked like when he did have access to modern plumbing? She practically choked on her coffee at the thought.

Scenting the rather pungent aura of reefer hanging around Ozzie - about as subtle an aroma as a Tarantino directed flashback to the 1969 Woodstock festival - she relaxed, recognizing the telltale signs of a hardcore stoner. Her cousin Christos had been like that, before her yiayia had shamed him so publicly he'd quit cold turkey and gotten a degree in Psychology, or was it Business? Last she'd heard he'd worked his way into upper management in production and was the head of his local PTA's anti-drug campaign... her grandmama was scary like that sometimes.

A motorcycle of indeterminate make rolled past, its out of state plates drawing her attention for a moment. Realizing Ozzie had introduced himself, she hastily supplied a response - "Lovely to smel-MEET, you, lovely to meet you. I really must get going." Pausing to eye the unconscious Steve with the dubious sidelong glance of a native Chicagoan commuter debating whether to switch seats on the L to avoid the crazy, the grad student produced a rather large water bottle from her backpack. Grinning, she poured some of the ice cold liquid onto the unconscious Steve's face to wake him, turning to face Ozzie after doing so.

"There! Now you don't have to schlep him to the nearest alleyway to avoid oncoming foot traffic. Cheers!" Practically power walking over to Agent Brand, she took the proffered arm, pulling the man toward her yiayia's home in her haste to exit Stage Left.

"Nyuh hrnd," Ozzie mumbled dumbfoundedly at the woman as she walked by him, his face painted with a stupid unmoving grin as the gibberish passed his lips. Ozzie had been accused of being many things in his lifetime, but no one had ever labeled the man as suave. He watched as the Agent began his escort before looking back down on his associate who was coughing himself back toward consciousness, his skin soiled and glimmering with the remnants of the liquid that had been poured upon him.

"What happened," he asked between labored breaths.

"I screwed it up," came the reply as Ozzie watched the woman and the agent leave.

"Wha... No, I mean what happened to me?! Why am I on the ground and what is this on my face?"

"Oh." Oz turned to Steve, looking down upon him for a moment. "I told you, dude. You're bad at being invisible. You made us look like a couple of idiots. If you don't start taking this stuff seriously, we're always going to look like clowns." He huffed, the mild anger in his voice transitioning to defeat. "We've got to up our game, man. We've got to start taking things seriously. We need to be sophisticated and respected. Maybe even feared. We run an underground criminal organization, man. We should be running this entire town!" Steve was still wiping his face off on the ground before looking up sharply, panic in his face.

"Dude, what time is it?" Ozzie raised an eyebrow and gave an exaggerated shrug, clearly not seeing the relevance of the question. "DuuUUuude! It's Jersey Shore night!

"Oh shit!" Without a moments hesitation, Ozzie took off in a sprint toward the general direction of his humble abode, not even looking back to see if Steve was following.

S I D

Location: Outside of the Greasy Spoon > Johnny's Hotel Room
Interactions: @Jasper19 -Talking with
@Zyshi@BlackXIII - Drive-by Waving!

Sid immediately found himself filled with mild regret. Why had he asked about why this stranger needed a weapon? Why did he feel the need to butt-in like that? Was it to feel included? A change of pace?! All of that could have been done another time, another place, where weapons weren't involved and he couldn't feel his ancestors rolling in their graves and shaking their heads at him in their obvious disapproval of his actions and choices.

"Sure thing." Without complaint or protest, he slipped on the helmet. It was kind of uncomfortable, as he had never really worn biking helmets. He was a bit shocked though at how kind this stranger just offered. It was suspicious as all hell, but honestly, it sure wasn't the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him during his travels. It was nine-thousand times better than getting approached by a prostitute or someone attempting to mug him; all of which had happened several times in several different places, unfortunately.

Huffing softly, he buckled the borrowed helmet and hopped onto the back of the bike. He wasn't entirely sure where to put his hands, so he made sure his backpack was secure on his back and simply grabbed onto the guy so he was sure he wouldn't go flying head-first if they came to an abrupt halt. As they sped by on the bike, he caught sight of some other people on the street- some homeless looking man and a woman. Without giving it any thought he raised a hand slightly to give them a small wave, but it seems to have gone largely ignored as they zoomed by. The rest of the trip was smooth and easy sailing.

When they got to the hotel, he quickly hopped off the bike and followed the guy into his hotel room. He tugged off the helmet and set it on the cheap dresser all hotel rooms seemed to have, fixing his hair a bit with a small smirk. "Nice to meet you, Johnny, my name is Syberus! But you can just call me Sid, its a lot easier to remember."

Moving to sit down on a small stool, he loosely crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back with a small contemplative look on his face. "You tryin' to kill that thing? I mean... I've been here for a few days already. I, uh, have been going around hiking in a lot of different places. I think your therapist picked a bad spot to go, they've had curfew nearly every night I've been here."

Nowhere Town Square

Brand kept the chat casual, and avoided talk about work. He had to admit this woman seemed like pleasant company, but he knew better than to attempt dating while he was on the clock- and he was working, at that moment.

Full dark had come on once he'd gotten her to her door, and while he made the briefest of pleasantries, he was quick to get her inside and leave. As he left, a certain camper truck pulled up, the drivers' window rolled down. "Brand! What are you doing, out here!? We're late, and it's coming!"

Brand looked out, eyes wide as he saw fog slowly rolling up the street and into the town square. "My god... It's spreading faster than we expected! You think it'll over take the entire town?"

"How should I know? Just get in, we'll get to the station, and get started- hopefully we can widen the patrols, this might make it easier to work unnoticed." Brand trotted around to get in, and they drove off, presumably in the direction of the McColm place.



The Nowhere Hotel, Room 2D

outside the window of the hotel room, a street lights' glow began to fade as the heaviest fog either of them had ever seen swallowed the view just outside the window.

A light drifted past the window, like the lights of a car.

They were on the second floor...



The Gataki Residence

Yiayia stirred slightly from her sleep. She'd heard something over the sound of her tv show playing- a sharp, harsh sound, something at the window? the curtains were closed, so she couldn't see what was doing it. It stopped, after a moment, so she looked back at the screen, already drifting back to sleep. As she closed her eyes again, she muttered to herself, "kataramenoi rakoun..."



Steve had staggered to his feet after Ozzie had rushed off. He paid no mind to the strange fog rolling in, even as it surrounded and over-took him. Between the oxygen deprivation, and the THC dragging down his brain, he had no chance of navigating his way home.

He didn't think he could get home without the police catching him out after curfew- even with knowing that invisibility trick. He wasn't as good at it as Ozzie was. Hmmmm... Ozzie... Yeah, Ozzie's place was closer! Oh, but he was always so high when he went over, it was always his friend leading the way, and he simply followed- he couldn't find his way without him!

He began to wander aimlessly, ducking behind a corner and holding his breath every time he saw the faintest hint of head-lights in the fog. Eventually, he was walking down a narrow alley. Just as he was starting to think he'd eventually find something that looked familiar, he looked up, and saw a light, just ahead of him!

He froze, but managed to realize this wasn't a car. He must have been sobering up; he'd been caught between enough headlights to know that car's typically had a pair. The cops especially, didn't run around with busted or burned out lights, so this wasn't them. No sound of the engine, either. Not to mention the alley was too narrow for a car, so, maybe this person was patrolling on foot?

"H-hello? I-" He was embarrassed, but even sobering up, he'd gotten himself turned around, and he'd be happier sleeping in a cell than passing out somewhere in the street. Again, that is. "I know I'm out past curfew, but I think I'm, well, lost. Could you help me out?" AS he spoke, the light moved- not like somebody holding a flashlight, but more like a big bug; zipping this way and that, and making a noise, like a clicking sound.

He was paranoid, from all the weed he smoked, and he hadn't liked how that light was statue still- but now, he thought, the stillness was better. He'd watched enough nature programs to be reminded of scenes of wasps about to pounce on soft little caterpillars...

"H-hey, hold up-" It had ducked down, and zoomed towards him, the light turning red as it did! He turned in a panic, running back the way he came as it started screaming! "Ozzie! Ozzie, the reefers' turning on me! HELP!" It was like a nightmare; he felt like he was moving in slow motion, and the end of the alley was drifting away from him!

Just as he was finally getting to the end, he saw a pair of headlights drift past! Oh, thank god! He moved to try and wave them down and call out-

And fell. He'd hit the ground so hard, it knocked the wind out of him! The light- it'd hit his legs, knocked him down! He looked up, but the car was gone. They didn't even slow down.

Steve tried to grab hold of the ground, but got dragged back, his scream soon cut off. He tried to scream again, but it was gurgled, fainter.

Then the night was completely silent.



Nowhere, USA
Population: 3282
The Next Day...

"I... I do," Ozzie said with a crooked smile as he looked at her. His hair was pulled back in a sort of man-bun and his beard was freshly trimmed. The black tuxedo shirt he wore complimented his cargo shorts which, in turn, matched his formal flip flops. He was determined to look his classiest on this of all days. It was important. As he held her hands, he looked into her eyes. Tears began welling up in his own as he waited for the ceremony to continue.

An older gentlemen in priestly robes stood between them and nodded before turning his attention to the girl. "And do you, Coffee Lady, take Ozzie Shaw to be your awfully wedded husband, to have and to hold-"

"Wait, awfully wedded husband sounds wrong," the groom chimed in.

"Yeah, I know right," the priest concurred. "Maybe it's 'softly'?"

"Huh... Softly... softly wedded husband? I mean, I don't have a 'soft' problem. If anything it's the opposite."

"Okay, how about this: Do you take Ozzie Shaw as your husband, who has no issues down there whatsoever."

"Perfect!" Ozzie exclaimed gleefully with a wide smile.

"What's the rest of it again?" The priest looked up at the sky with a wince, trying to remember the rest of the words to the vow.

"I have no idea, bro. Let's just skip it."

"Right. So, Coffee Lady... Do you?"

The bride looked back at Ozzie with a subtle grin looking adorably shy as she met Ozzie's gaze. The anticipation in the groom was beginning to build exponentially as he awaited those two little words. Even the priest leaned in uncomfortably close with anticipatory joy, staring intently at her. Slowly her soft, beautiful lips began to part and her velvet voice floated out and into Ozzie's ears.

"EHH EHH EHH EHH!" Her eyes were incredibly wide now, her face contorted as she squawked, shouting into the air.

"...dafuq..." Ozzie pulled back as his bride began kicking up her legs and flapping her arms like a chicken while crowing skyward.

"EHH EHH EHH EHH!"

Ozzie's eyes shot open, completely bloodshot. He found himself lying in his bed, staring at the broken ceiling fan that hung from above. His alarm clock chimed out mercilessly beside him. EHH EHH EHH! Ozzie turned his head to behold that it was 10am. He quickly seized the device in his hand and threw it against the wall, silencing it violently. He sat up and tried to gather his thoughts before grabbing at his cell phone and checking for messages. He clicked on Steve and reviewed the text he sent him last night:

dude wtf r u? ur missing shore. bring doritos.

There were no replies. It was particularly peculiar. Ozzie sniffed at the air, an odd odor filling his nostrils. As he looked around to try and find the source, his nose eventually led him to his own armpit. Stifling a gag, the gungy man decided he needed a plan for today. The thought of the Coffee Lady flashed in his mind once more. First thing had to be first, though. Step 1, get a shower. Step 2, find Steve. Step 3, find Coffee Lady. Step 4, he was going to get those damned Doritos even if it was the last thing he did.

As he made his way to the bathroom, he passed the living area where the sound of the television filled the room, as Ozzie had failed to turn it off the night before. A reporter stood center screen with a face of panic and confusion as she described a scene of horror behind her in the middle of an alley. The bathroom door shut and the sound of the showerhead coming to life drowned out the reporter's words.

ȤЄƝƖ ƓƛƬƛƘƖ

Location: Bumfuck, USA // Mention: @RedVII (sort of)

Zeni jolted awake to the squawking of barnyard fowl echoing in her ears, the dream receding too quickly into the recesses of her mind to retain many details other than that sound... chickens? Geese, maybe? Blinking blearily through what she was sure was walk-of-shame level smeared mascara, she shook her head, wincing at the pounding sensation it caused. This was the last time she spiked her final coffee of the wee morning hours with ouzo, though it helped soothe her nerves. Something about the fog in this town raised her hackles more than usual...

"Get up, agapi̱té mou - this coffee won't drink itself." Yiayia's voice drifted in from the other room, interrupting her rumination.

Dragging her sorry carcass out of the doily-infested guest room, she wrapped a silk robe tight around her form, shivering. Her yiayia emitted a disapproving tsk-tsk at the lateness of her rising, handing over a steaming mug of crack cocaine while muttering something midnight raccoon invasions. Sipping the heady elixir, the brunette sat next to her grandmother on the well worn couch to watch the news.

"...amidst a scene of carnage rarely witnessed in a town such as Nowhere, we await answers from local authorities. Was it a pack of rabid dogs? A crazy hobo who works on tramp steamers to cover his tracks as he moves from city to city? Has Jimmy Hoffa finally decided to make his survival known in the most violent manner possible? Stay tuned to find out on KGW Channel 8, the only real source for unbiased, fact based reporting in the state..."

Raccoon eyes widening to almost comical proportions, Zeni bolted upright, any thought of how to interpret dreams about wearing a white dress banished. Scrambling to her feet and vaulting over the back of the couch, she showered and dressed in record time, almost creating a smoke contrail out the door after kissing her grandmother on the cheek and promising to have dinner at the Greasy Spoon instead of lunch. Stopping only to get a quad depth charge while performing a quick equipment check, she made her way to the crime scene, intent on finding a high vantage point overlooking it from which to make her own observations...

Johnny found himself back in the ocean ' weird I thought I was in a hotel?' he thought when one of his friends tapped his shoulder. " Johnny bro were about to catch a wave c'mon " Johnny frowned as he was who had tapped his shoulder, his friend Anthony.....but he had died the night of the incident. Shaking his head to clear it he went with Anthony and a couple of his friends to catch the wave. Forgetting about the weird feeling entirely Johnny smiled as he surfed with his friends until each wiped out and didn't come back up. " Hey guys where did you go!? " he called to out. Suddenly a eerie fog rolled in causing Johnny to look around " not again " he muttered as all of a sudden he fell off his board. Breaking to the surface Johnny looked around and saw the sea serpent again " not you again c'mon fucker let's go! " he yelled at the monster, suddenly the ocean became a whirlpool and the monster struck at Johnny.

" Ahhhhhhh! " he screamed.

Johnny jolted upright in the hotels bed as beams of sunlight drifted through the currents. Looking around worriedly Johnny sighed in relief when he realized it had just been a dream. Wiping the sweat off his forehead Johnny got out of bed. " I should probably take a shower if I'm going to meet the old man" he said to himself. While in the shower he thought about the events of last night after the fog had rolled in and the lights had gone past Johnny mentioned to his newfound friend named Sid that they probably should get some rest. Johnny was loath not to see what the lights were but he also didn't have a weapon which irked him as well, he also agreed with Sids comment about his therapist , the chick had no clue about where she sent Johnny. Brushing his teeth once getting out of the shower Johnny then got dressed in a tank top, board shorts and his leather jacket. Putting on his thongs he saw that Sid was asleep so Johnny put his number in Sids phone then texted him.

Going to the greasy spoon to meet up with the old man once sending the text Johnny was about to leave when he remembered Sid might not know who it was texting him. it's Johnny btw after Johnny was satisfied that the texts would be enough Johnny fired up his motorcycle and rode into town. Riding to the greasy spoon parking lot Johnny killed his bike then waited for the old man to show up.