[IC] closed or whatever don't look at this

[Mixtape Ghost N]

<sup>It was a strange feeling...

Almost like dreaming, but being awake. The whole scene flashed before my eyes as if I was there.

Yet helpless to actually change the events that occurred. I could only observe.

These... dreams became more frequent as I traveled and experienced more and more of this world. And I found myself getting lost in them. These events, these peoples lives, I can now observe as a third party.

Allow me to jot down... all that I can recall...</sup>

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SUMMARY

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Coming soon...

[Mixtape Ghost N]

<sup>Darkness. Darkness as far as the eye could see.

I used a bit of myself again.

I know I shouldn't have.

It's really... selfish of me.

But I have no other choice.

It's just so hard being here.

I want them to see paradise.

They laid their heads down.

Then they were here.

I hope they won't be too mad.</sup>

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"Uuuuuuugh, what in the hell?"

Was the first thing the girl with the blue streak in her hair said as she woke up. It was an incredibly weird experience given that the thing that woke her up was the chill of the night. What made it weird was that last time she checked, it wasn't snowing. Well. This sucks. At least she had on her leather jacket and some jeans. The girl got up to her feet as she did the first thing that came to mind.

She lit a cigarette.

"Okay girl, think... you were partying last night..." The girl thought to herself as she looked down. She still had all of her clothes on (thank God). Though, there was something else that came to mind. She pulled her tank top up as she looked at her relatively flat stomach (God, I need to start hitting the gym) and she wasn't stitched back together or anything. "So, I still have all my organs; yay, I guess."

She pulled her shirt back down and finally looked around. She was in the middle of a snowy street of some city - a few blocks down she could see train tracks overhead. However what was weird was that, well, the streets were coated with snow. And as far as she could see were buildings, stores, restaurants, and other places that implied that it was downtown.

Even with that little... quirk of hers, she knows that there was no way in hell that a street would be this coated. Also, it was the middle of the night but there was nobody here. In the middle of downtown. There would be at least one crackhead. She let out a puff of smoke and that special menthol scent filled her nose before she slid the thing back in between her lips.

It was obvious that this place was definitely not the place where she last was. Which raised the question of where in the world was she? "Yooooooooo!" The girl shouted. "Anybody here?!" She got no response, but if there was somebody out there they would have heard her.

[silvermist1116]

╚══════════════╝

What the hell? He looked around. This is not the diner he was in a second ago. He'd been waiting for his ex-girlfriend to reconcile. He only looked down at the menu a split second. When he looked up he was in a passenger train car like the type he's seen in the movies. He abruptly stood up, hand on the pole to keep his balance. Did this have something to do with his powers? Or has he finally lost his mind? Years of mistreatment has him hallucinating. Maybe he should've went to therapy after all. He moved down the car. It was abandoned, rusted, yet there wasn't any debre like he expected. Outside the window was a cityscape and it was snowing? He felt the chill, his off-white sweater only kept him a little warm. He needed to find a way out of here. There were four doors, two faced the track on the other side and the other to the platform. Easy. He went to the door closest to him, but stopped when he realized he didn't have his guitar on his back. Shit. Did it get left behind? He panicked and went back to the seat. It was there, waiting for him. Thank God. He can't leave it behind. He strapped the case to his back, comforted by the weight, then went back to the door. There was an emergency lever. He pulled it, but it didn't budge. So he tried harder, used all the strength he had, then it slid open. He shook out his arms, rolled his shoulders, then stepped out on to the platform.

"Yooooooooo! Anybody here?!" A feminine voice echoed a few blocked down the street.

So he wasn't alone. Good. But what if this person was bad and wanted to hurt him? But they could also know what's going on and help him get home. His thoughts spiraled between finding them and keeping his distance, but he went towards the voice anyway. He'll deal with it when he gets there, each step made his heart beat faster and unease settled in his gut. He felt like vomiting. Once on the street he saw a small person shaped figure in the middle of the street. It wasn't a long walk. Should he call back? He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. No. He couldn't do that. He was too nervous, so he kept quiet. A few minutes later he saw the girl. Around his height, black leather jacket, blue streaks in her hair, cigarette in her hand, and her aesthetic reminds him of his ex-girlfriend. He stopped fifteen feet away from her, more nervous than ever. What if she was like his ex? He didn't want to be around her if that's the case.

"H-hello. Do you know what's going on?" He said quietly, breath cloudy in the cold.

[Opposition]

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Smooth Caravan, Carry Me Away…
Let It Be, Just Maybe, The Final Time I Stray From the Path…
Silently, Let Me Fade...
Carry Me Into Entropy…
Into The Void...
Into Emptiness…

"The Girl Who Lost Herself in the Emptiness..." Is that what they would call her? She thought so... Maybe. She was never quite sure. That was part of Zen, right? It was a fitting time for it all to go down—straying from the Way, a shell, a husk, an entity endlessly enraptured by her own emptiness but never quite achieving that blank state of immortality or whatever the hell it was. It was a fitting place for it, too. She was huddled up against herself, knees-to-chest, blanketed in the darkness but old yellow streetlights illuminated her from below. The skyscraper was in the center of downtown, just adjacent to the city hall building actually, but that didn't prevent its vacancy. She was invisible from below, a silhouette against the dark sky. It didn't matter. No one wandered the streets in the quiet night.

She sat in front of one of those tan and green tournament travel chess sets, having taken the time to set up the board completely before going back through her earlier game. It was just him and her in an empty corner of the deserted school library. "Outcast Club", they called themselves, but the university only saw Philosophy Club mentioned between the misfits. She stared at the board's final position. Open Sicillian, Accelerated Dragon, Exchange Variation. She sat in front of the black pieces. It was a game that weaved in and out of aggression and defense for both sides, but eventually, having castled opposite sides with pawns completely locked, they had to shatter the tension. It was move twenty-three. He played Knight F6 and she captured without calculating. She dropped a rook and the final bell rang, signifying the building's close right before she resigned.

It seemed petty, didn't it? Embracing the void over something so small. Was that what they would think of her? Was that what she'd be remembered for? She pushed the thoughts aside. Those truly following the Path won't let their heads be clouded by past actions, but damn, it was such a simple mistake. In the darkness, up above, all alone, she did calculate the best line with strained eyes. Seven moves ahead. It really was an impressive mental effort, at least for an amateur like her, but when she went to move her rook, the city's winds resigned for her. Her king toppled, slid from the board, and rolled along the rooftop to teeter at its edge. She just watched the little plastic piece rock, didn't scramble to reach it. She'd already lost interest in the board. It was a fitting way to finish up.

She reached for the ornate and long pipe just next to the board. It looked like it was liberated right out of some old ethnic antique store, and considering her locale, it probably was. It even came pre-locked and pre-loaded, though that was her doing. She knocked the top off, gazed into the glaze of the choice nectar of the Ancient Mariner, and flicked a match across the roof’s tarmac. Perhaps, she thought, she’d see visions in the ice beyond too, come back with stories to tell and all that. There was no ice there, though. Only wind.

It was a perfectly fitting place, a perfectly fitting night, a perfectly fitting way.

The Way of Walking Alone

►2, Do not scheme for physical pleasure.

►3, Do not intend to rely on anything.

| | | | |

►17, While on the Way, do not begrudge death.

—Shinmen Musashi, one week before he perished.

She held a third breath of searing smoke in her lungs and forced herself to stand despite the feeling that her body and her senses were beginning to betray her. It only got worse when she was on her feet. Exhale, like a dragon’s breath. Then, she took another breath of pestilence. Her vision began to leave her, but she saw the edge. She dropped the pipe. Things went black. She heard the doppler wail of sirens, and she wasn’t sure if she was falling forwards, backwards, or into the emptiness...

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It was the doppler that brought her back.
Not an ambulance, but a familiar sound.
The blackness retracted. Damn.
One more bout.
It doesn’t have to last.
Get your knives out,
And get up off the ground.

Turns out death wasn’t an endless black void. It was white, and cold. The wind sliced through her and made her shiver. She didn’t want to open her eyes, but once the gusts grabbed hold of her black cap, she shot after it. From her prone, aching position, the tips of her fingers barely grasped it in time as she nearly sent herself over the building’s edge. Her opposite hand felt the lip of the brick building cracking and she pulled back.

This wasn’t quite in the forecast. Perhaps it was the lack of light that assaulted her eyes, but her city didn’t look quite right. The derelict, it appeared, had transformed into a well-kept cityscape. She was still at the heart of the urban jungle, but there was no sign of its struggling beat. It was…

Empty…

The doppler caught her again. It carried shouts from far below, but their message was distorted by the monoliths off which it echoed and resonated. She looked around, the chess set was gone, but pressed into her palm was the wicked device that gave her lost time. She figured that this must have been what death was like. The city was nice. The Emptiness was satisfying.

The girl did her best to find her way down. It was strange, that place. She knew she shouldn’t have been so serene, but no matter what happened, she knew she wouldn’t turn back. The high rise—just like the last one, she supposed—was empty. It was a different kind of empty. No exposed wires on the ceiling, no worries of asbestos, no musty smell of water droplets forming puddles that hadn’t evaporated in years. Each floor was pristine, with its own array of shops or restaurants. With each stairwell she took, the whole place just felt more foreign. She started to hesitate about her plans.

She diverted herself on the second floor, stepping out onto a lower terrace to see if she could catch sight of the street-level wanderer. In a world of mystery, it was best to take things at a nice, cautious, slow pace. She stepped to the roof’s edge and tried to post herself up in a seated position. What she hadn’t accounted for was the overnight blizzard, or teleportation, or death, or whatever. Both of her arms shot back, and she barely caught herself from slipping off the building entirely. She dragged herself back into a cold seat, only hoping that the nearby wanderer, who had since been joined by another. The new one looked equally as confused, which eased the girl’s panic.

In her awkward position, she figured that silence was an admirable option. She certainly wasn’t hiding—not after that near-fall—but the two down below approached one another. They were going to talk, or fight, or something. Whatever it was, the girl could go from there. Any glances cast her way were met with her best attempt to keep cool in the confusion. She tapped the ridge of her open hand to her forehead in some sort of half-assed salute. When she did finally offer her own utterance, she spoke no louder than a normal conversation, almost muttering.

“A bit desolate today… Isn’t it?”

"Empty..."

[Atrophy]

She

She caught her head in a downward drift, blue eyes flashing open to fight off sleep’s approach. It was late, late enough that some people would start calling it early, but not early enough for the coffee stand to roll its shutters up so she could buy a matcha latte and a croissant. Her stomach growled. Poor planning on her part, taking an overnight layover without having the money to book a nearby hotel and too full of burning pride and cold fury to call up Dad for an assist. He had disapproved of her plan to travel to NYC, especially when it was to meet with some stranger from the Internet. She tried explaining it to him, but she couldn’t tell him the whole story. In the end, she had just gotten her brother to drive her to the airport.

That downward drift again. This time she snapped her head back so fast it hurt. The terminal was empty, but she didn’t trust falling asleep in it. There were enough cameras around that she felt certain that nobody would do anything, but there was nobody else around to guarantee that something would do nothing. It was hard enough sleeping at home. Here? It’d be damn near impossible. Maybe on the plane, maybe, but while alone? Not happening. Her stomach rumbled again. Her eyes drifted to the vending machine. If not a croissant, then maybe some stale animal crackers. She had enough change for it, but she needed her change. She couldn’t spare a single penny. Did it take card?

Down, down, down her head drifted.

She bolted up from her seat and whipped around frantically with a fistful of quarters. The terminal had shifted. The vending machine was gone, replaced by an empty, street lit trash can. The uncomfortable chair with the broken cushion was gone, swapped into a metal bench with an advertisement on the back. The faint smell of toilet cleaner and sweaty businessmen had, thankfully, disappeared too, replaced with a crisp, clean air. It was the kind of air country people liked to take a big old sniff of and brag about before striking up their twelfth cigarette that hour. It kind of smelled like home. Her original home, not the new place they were all staying. There was one problem with that sentiment: she was over a thousand miles from home. The terminal hadn’t shifted. The terminal had vanished, or rather, she had vanished from the terminal.

A dream? She looked to the sky. Normal, black sky, only orange coming from the sleeve of her sweater as she focused on the palms of her hands. She took a quarter from her pocket, flipped it, and studied the result. Tails, commemorative state one for Virginia, black speck on the right most flag. She looked away, and then back to the quarter: tails, commemorative state for Virginia, black speck on the right most flag. She flipped it again, turned it over to the back, and studied it one more time. Same result. Reality, then.

She was in a courtyard. She looked up at the building around her. They were New York-ish, but she imagined any buildings taller than five stories to be New York-ish. She looked at the ad on the bench she’d woken up on. There was the face of a smiling, bronze woman next to a slogan that said “Welcome to Paradise”. She smiled in response. Paradise, is it? She’d always imagined it to be sandy beaches or fluffy clouds, but skyscrapers and empty streets would do. She continued to smirk as she wondered how long the advert would be up before it got removed for copyright infringement. Well, if it’s Paradise, then maybe there were no more lawyers.

She left the courtyard and wandered out into the street. There was a noticeable drop in temperature and she pulled her cardigan tight around herself as her boots went from clacking on concrete to crunching through snow. Weird. The street was empty except for the glow of streetlight. It was lined with office buildings and bodegas, every single window dark. Not a single car was parked on the side of the street, not a single bum was sleeping on a stoop, not a single footprint was in the snow aside from her own. There was nobody else around. That was even weirder, but not an entirely unwelcome life change.

"Yooooooooo!” Fuck, nevermind then. “Anybody here?!"

Another traveller who had completely missed their flight, perhaps? The voice came from the t-junction down the way. She moved slowly to the intersection, slipping one hand into her pocket and the other to rest on her bag. She peered around the corner. A block away stood a girl facing the other way, looking towards a boy in a white sweater as he approached her. Was that a guitar case on his back? She scoffed. The most she had learned from college was that at every party there was always the asshole who showed up with an acoustic guitar. Apparently, this weird Paradise was no exception. Above the two, perched on the edge of a low roof like a black cat, was a girl in a black beret, whose less than cat-like-reflexes saved herself from falling. She stifled a laugh as she watched the girl recover.

“Well, it ain’t nearly as empty as it first seemed,” she said, announcing her presence to the others, pushing her words past the pen hanging from her lips. Ain’t? What was it about being in a big city that drew the repressed country twang out? Would she spit on the ground next and thumb her belt buckle? She brushed a loose strand of blonde hair out of her eye and continued, “The rest of y’all fall asleep in the airport, too, or am I outing myself for...”

She stopped as the girl with blue streaks in her hair turned and she saw her face for the first time. Blue’s face was an unexpected, but not unwelcome, sight. The blonde relaxed her shoulders, jutted out her hip, and plucked the pen from her mouth. A sly smile wormed its way across her face.

She knew this one.

“Hey stranger. Been a minute. Anyway...” she dragged the word out as she gestured with her pen between the two actual strangers. "What is the deal with the two of you?"

[Luminous Beings]

soraya (and mr. hops)

Soraya knew she was far away from home when she felt the snow.

It startled her. She scrambled up and looked around, panicking, panicking - worried that -

He was right there. Her backpack, too. She grabbed him tight and took a minute to breathe, snowflakes fluttering down into her hair.

I'm okay, So.

I know. I was worried you weren't.

Soraya grabbed her backpack and threw it over her shoulders, clinching the straps down extra super duper tight. She crouched down low, holding Mr. Hops in front of her with both arms. She was grateful she had on her jacket. It was cold. It was snowing. It didn't snow back home.

This isn't right, is it?

It's not.

Should I be scared?

Mr. Hops didn't answer. There were many things that Soraya was scared of - dogs, loud noises, people with certain kinds of faces that just seemed suspicious - and Mr. Hops told her to not be afraid of those things. They were silly. But there were some things that Mr. Hops would get quiet about, and Soraya knew those were the things she had to be real scared of. Sometimes, she asked, if there really were monsters in the closet, or she'd ask Mr. Hops if he saw some of the things she saw in her dreams. Mr. Hops would always get quiet, and she'd hold him twice as tight. This was bad. She was hiding, she thought. In the house. She had found all the good hiding spots already, but if you kept hunting, you never knew when you'd find another good one. She was going to surprise her parents - they'd been so stressed, she could tell, with everything going on, and when they thought she was asleep she'd sneak out and listen to them. They talked about "the economy" and "in the streets" and "don't know what we're going to do" and "not that, let's just go to bed" and then she'd scramble back and hide in the bed (and she wore socks, so if they checked her feet, they'd be warm).

But now there was snow. Her feet would never get warm.

Soraya knew what her first instinct was. She didn't even have to ask Mr. Hops. Sometimes, she just talked to Mr. Hops. Maybe she knew deep down she was really just talking to herself - she knew that when her parents looked at her "talking" to him, and gave her a sad sigh, one that reminded Soraya her eleventh birthday had been a few months ago, and she was supposed to be Grown Up now, and Grown Up and Mr. Hops were two things that were impossible to put together. But sometimes Mr. Hops flickered with that light, and Mr. Hops told her things she never would've known on her own.

The first instinct was easy, though. She hid. Soraya didn't know where she was or if anyone else was here. Maybe somebody took her in the middle of the night and now she had to get away. She ducked inside a building and looked around for a moment, creeping across the floor to a window. She stayed tuckered down in the shadows, where she could see out but nobody could see in. Those were the good hiding spots. The other good ones were the ones that were so obvious nobody even thought to look. There was a train, she could see. There were tall, tall buildings. Could we take the train, Mr. Hops? There could be a conductor or someone who could help us.

If there's a conductor, wouldn't he be making noise?

Soraya hesitated. He was right. He was always right. There should be a whistle, or steam, or anything. Like in Harry Potter. She liked those. They got a little scary sometimes.

Then someone shouted.

Soraya grabbed Mr. Hops tight. She - she didn't like shouting. Not at all. Her heart thundered in her chest, but she forced herself to be smart. If we do something dumb they'll find us, won't they?

Mr. Hops was silent for a moment. Yes. They will.

Can we trust them?

...I don't know.

Soraya stayed and listened. Someone was asking where people were. Maybe they were lost too? It could be a trick, Soraya thought. It was cold outside, and dry in here. Soraya had resolved to try to move upstairs and try to hide herself even better, but then she heard movement from up above.

How many are there? She asked, her fingers digging into Mr. Hops.

...three. That I can tell.

Soraya was scared. Three? She could maybe run from one, but three was a lot. There was snow. They'd be able to find her in the snow. She one time made tracks all over the place with her dad when they went skiing. But if she moved around a lot in here, the person upstairs would hear her, too. Mr. Hops, can we go away? I'm really scared.

He said nothing. Sometimes he did that when he wanted her to figure things out. Maybe - maybe they weren't bad guys. Soraya wanted to believe that, she really did, but there was no way to know for sure without risking getting caught. And it was a lot better to just not be noticed. A lot better. Soraya chewed on her fingers for a moment, trying to think. She had to be smart. They sounded like grown-ups. Yes, she could hear others, now. The one upstairs was shouting too. A girl's voice. Other girl's voices. That was good. Girls were nicer. One girl sounded strange, like a cowboy. Soraya had grown up speaking English, too, but the cowgirl took a minute for her to understand.

Mr. Hops, Soraya asked, and she was whispering to him even in her head. I need to know who they are.

Mr. Hops, she could almost hear him sigh, and there was just a little feeling of fatigue in Soraya, as if she'd done a few homework problems. There was a smiling girl - the cowgirl. A coin. What does that mean? Hush. Sorry. There was a boy with a guitar. Trains. There was a little wooden queen piece on a checkerboard, like the kind her dad had in his office he tried to teach her buts she'd gotten bored.

Soraya frowned. Mr. Hops was always right but sometimes she couldn't understand what he meant. Like right now - she was so scared she couldn't try to figure out what any of that was supposed to be. If she really had to, she could talk him into making them both go away, but if they hadn't seen her yet, she didn't need to. Not - not yet. But she could. If she heard the checkerboard lady come down the stairs, or maybe if the cowgirl had a gun. Those were scary - and very loud. Soraya wished she could know if they were good guys or bad guys or not. They weren't monsters, at least. Mr. Hops would've known if they were. She wondered when the lady upstairs was going to come down. Probably soon. Soraya glanced around for a better spot to hide. They were all talking loud. She tiptoed quiet as could be across the floor. It was some kind of lobby. Hmm. There weren't a lot of good places to hide in a lobby. She found a cluster of sitting chairs and made herself small behind one of them. There were a few near each other, so if she had to, she could slip behind another one if somebody got close. And they couldn't see her unless they came in and sat down, and they couldn't see her from the stairwell. Unless, Soraya thought, feeling her stomack drop down to her knees, They have Mr. Hops too, and their Mr. Hops tell them something.

She stroked her rabbit nervously, one arm tight around his chest and the other on the chair as she peeked beside it ever so barely. They don't, she told herself. And if they do, mine's better.

She just had to be quiet. That was okay. That was what she was good at.

[Mixtape Ghost N]

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It seemed like the girl wasn't the only person here. Just by shouting, she attracted a few people. Though there was a part of her that was a bit suspicious of this. Normally she'd be open and would be cracking some jokes but past experiences with the strange made her suspicious as hell.

The first person she laid her eyes on was a girl? No, a guy. He just looked girly. She had not a clue what fucking race he was but she wasn't the kind of gal to ask those questions. Though she could respect that guitar on his back - she always had a bit of love for other musicians. He looked confused as she was... and she took a drag of her cigarette.

"H-hello. Do you know what's going on?"

The girl paused with the cigarette in between her lips as she stared at the guy. "Beats me, bro," She shrugged as the cigarette parted with her lips. "I was in LA somewhere last time I checked... does this look like LA to you?"

Then there was that Asian chick that walked up. If she found the first guy suspicious then she definitely found this broad extra weird. Especially the way she walked around, talked, and carried herself... she was fashionable though. The stranger said some stuff and the girl with blue streaks in her hair just looked at her. Giving her an almost equally empty look.

"Whatever, weirdo," The girl said before she put her hands in her pockets and kept the cigarette in between her teeth. That was when she showed up. This was where shit was starting to get weird. It was a blonde-haired girl that she knew well, and about a year ago she'd probably be ready to curse her out. Funny how that shit changes. Though she wasn't super sure how the stranger would feel about her, she was going to find out soon enough.

"Well ain't you a sight for sore eyes," For now she was going to cordial as possible to the stranger as she craned her head towards her. "Been more than just a minute, been a whole damn year." She shook her head.

Then the blonde-haired girl who insisted on smiling questioned them and that was when she realized that the cold did bother her. Whether she liked it or not. She shivered as she realized a leather jacket is nowhere near as good as a parka. She shivered as she looked at the group.

"Sorry to interrupt, really am," The girl started, "But how about we get inside? I don't know, maybe I spent too much time in Cali but it's cold as a bitch out here."

She wrapped her arms around herself as she looked around. The first thing the girl's eyes landed on was the bar... it just had a sign that said Bar. And nothing else. Good. Some booze will warm her up.

"C'mon," The stranger with blue streaks in her hair said as she gestured for them to enter the bar. She opened the door, which was unlocked, and the first sight was a fully stocked bar. When she stepped inside the heat was on! Perfect... she smiled as she walked behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of vodka and untwisted the lid and took a swig...

... Before realizing what got her into this mess in the first place.

"Um, yeah. What is your deal?" She asked, mostly towards the weirdo girl.

Little did they know there was somebody else watching them from the distance... separate from the girl. That person was watching them with more conventional means, but she was still watching. Until they walked in... that was when the newcomer decided to make her approach.

[silvermist1116]

╚══════════════╝

Another person showed up. Blonde woman that made him take a step back. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a little older than him. If the girl with the blue streak matched his ex-girlfriend's aesthetic, then this mouthy blonde chick looked like an older version of her. She could be her cousin or something. He couldn't do this. Two strangers that remind him of his ex and they know each other. What's the chances of that? He held tight to his guitar case strap, fingers freezing in his grip. What the hell kind of nightmare did he wake up in? He's gotta be crazy, he's officially snapped. Is he the only person alarmed? Or are they better at hiding it than he is? That's probably it. Neither knew what was going on. That's the only reassuring thing, he guessed. If they knew as much as him, then no one has the advantage. Good. It's bad enough the people back home know how to take advantage of him, he didn't need strangers knowing too.

The girl with the streak pointed out a bar and walked inside, he hesitated to follow. While he didn't want to be alone, two people that make him anxious, and booze weren't a great mix. Alcohol reminded him of what happened two years ago. He touched the cut on his right wrist and pressed into it. Too many intoxicated people, fists, his blood, cheering bystanders, he felt sick. He bent over, dry heaved, and spit into the snow. He crouched down and buried his head into arms. Despite the cold, he didn't really feel it, too consumed by his fear to get away from the memories. Inhale ten seconds, hold for five, then exhale for another ten. He repeated the process, before his nerves got under control. He sensed someone watching him, popped his head up, and looked behind him. Nothing. His eyes went up the building and found a girl in black crouched on the edge. What the fuck? He shot up and went into the bar. He'd rather deal with strangers that look like Sandy, then deal with a creep watching him from a far. Best to know what to expect than to face the unexpected.

The bar was warm and had seating closer to the door. The tables and red stools reminded him of the diner he was at before he ended up here. He took a seat at the table next to the door. He didn't want to get cornered around these two, until he knew more about them.

[Atrophy]

She

The girl with the knowing smile nodded at the suggestion to go inside, “Yeah, this is no place to catch up.”

She’d refuse to acknowledge it, but she was definitely freezing her ass out here. With a shrug at the other two, she stepped towards the bar to see it was literally just called Bar. She did a double take and, no, that was actually the name. Probably some pretentious ass hipster joint like the ones her brother would take her to with forty beers that were all IPAs and tables made from locally sourced trees and glasses hand blown by their hobbyist bartender. She paused before going in. It truly was a quiet city. Even her small hometown had the occasional junker backfire or dog bark at a raccoon. She exhaled a cloud of air and glared down the street. The Guitar Guy looked like he was sick but before she could call out he gathered himself and quickly shot past her into the bar.

She looked up at the Beret Girl and met her empty eyes, and then turned to look back down the street. She had an eerie sensation that there was something else out there. Her vision blurred and then sharpened as she analyzed her surroundings, her blue eyes moving from building to building. Nothing but paranoia. She blinked and massaged her temple. The only movement she detected was of the soft little flurries of snow as they drifted down lazily. Things seemed okay. Well, okay, things weren’t okay, considering she woke up in a place she didn’t recognize, but they were okay in comparison to what else could have happened.

She entered the bar. It wasn’t some craft brewery like she had been fearing, but a well-stocked sushi bar. Her stomach grumbled. Maybe there was something she could snack on. Of course, there was nobody to pay and stealing didn’t sit well with her. The place was so well maintained that clearly there had to be an owner. She pictured some old wizened Japanese dude, crafting perfect cuts of sashimi while his granddaughter pours cups of sake and chats with the customers. Could he be upstairs asleep? The girl with blue streaks in her hair seemed to have no such concerns about helping herself. Already, she was behind the bar and helping herself to a drink.

“Zoey, seriously?” she said with an annoyed huff as she made her way to the curtained doorway and poked her head inside to see an empty kitchen. She turned and made her way to the stairs as she chided the girl behind the bar, “If you’re going to be a thief then at least be a smart one.”

The upstairs was just a storage area, stuffed with boxes of dry goods and dry booze. No old sushi artist, no young granddaughter, no tiny table with that heated blanket thingy they could warm their legs under that really sounded like the best thing in the world to have to forget about the outside chill right now. She came back downstairs, took a seat on a step around the midway point, and said, “Okay, we’re alone.”

“Hey dude,” she said to the Guitar Guy, her voice hushed. He looked like an alarmed cat ready to dart at any moment. “I saw what happened out there. Are you feeling okay?” she asked as Zoey questioned the other girl. The pen twirled and twirled and twirled in her hand. “Want something to drink?”

[Opposition]

---

---

Nothing but a byproduct of the die-off…

Having collected herself, posted upon the edge of the bar’s roof, she traced the newcomer. An airport? The empty girl wondered just how empty a predicament she’d found herself in. However unfortunately, these others were all close enough to make it a party. Purgatory, she thought, would have to wait. This limbo was still occupied. The newcomer seemed to know one of the others, which threw her off. It must have been a glitch in whatever simulation she found herself splayed in.

The more the world confounded around her, the more she tried to think back to that last moment. It had to be the pipe, the devilish nectar. Alas, no hallucination had ever reached her brain so vivid in its portrayal. She held her head in her hands and braced for a pain that never came. Unless she was still dosed, it couldn’t have been long since she vanished from the crumbling high rise in the night. She wasn’t really focusing on the gathering after that, but before long each individual started to file towards the bar and head inside. The night was nice, blanketed in that sort of midnight blue, but she hated the snow. It was the cold, she was sure to clarify to herself. To be alone in purgatory had nothing to do with it.

The girl stood and started to scour the roof for an entryway. Getting down was always harder than getting up. There was a hatch in the concrete, and she yanked it with vigorous fervor, making all sorts of racket in the process. Despite her frenzied pulls, however, there was certainly some sort of lock blocking her way. It was fine. She was fine. Taking the easy way was lame anyways. A second story balcony was easy enough to reach by lowering herself on the lip of the building, and from there, she ventured inside the unlocked door to seek out the company of strangers. How far she’d come in mere minutes…

She thumped down the stairwell and into the bar and passed another of the stranger along the way with little more than another weak salute. She paused for a long moment to survey the array of strangers and was sure to eye up each one of them. Each of them was plenty unique, but evoked no memories within her. The girl with the blue streak in her hair had already taken to raiding the bar, and the more she thought about it, the more she cared not for any purgatory’s laws. Without words, she also carried herself behind the bar and ran a hand over the various bottles. There wasn’t anything authentic enough for her usual tastes, but she settled on a bottle of clear lychee liqueur and was fixing her own drink in no time. Drinking straight from the bottle was way too anti-aesthetic for her.

“My deal?” She looked to the girl with the blue streak in her hair, who coincidentally was the only other of the condemned lot that went straight for the bottle—straight pulls of vodka with no remorse. It almost made her cringe to watch, but there was a degree of respect to act, she supposed. Her poker-face remained. “I tried to launch myself into the void, but wound up here instead.” She looked around. “Quaint… Was expecting to be alone, too.”

“Never the matter. Welcome to purgatory, or stillness, or the constant. Whatever you'd like to call it.” She rose her glass up to the other girl who definitely didn’t have a problem in a far too dramatic gesture. It felt strange to reach the next stage, she thought. Alas, all she could do was remember her doctrines. The 'Climax of Emptiness', it seemed, would continue to elude her.

[Mixtape Ghost N]

---

---

---

Zoey grimaced at the girl with blonde hair. Obviously there was nobody here. Except them, which she figured out pretty quick. She laughed as she gently placed the bottle of alcohol on the countertop and crossed her arms as she said.

"Alright there Penny the crime dog," Zoey rolled her eyes up into her head. It was funny how the more things changed the more they stayed the same. That shit storm they all been through really didn't do much to change Penny. Though, it did everything to change Zoey... she took a puff out of her cigarette. Not giving a damn that they were indoors (a bar too!).

Though, the weirdo girl (or the girl with empty eyes) was quick to finally start talking. And she was still weird as all hell. Zoey wondered if she needed more alcohol as she listened to the chick talk. Though she couldn't help but tilt her head as she talked.

“My deal? I tried to launch myself into the void but wound up here instead. Quaint… Was expecting to be alone, too. Never the matter. Welcome to purgatory, or stillness, or the constant. Whatever you'd like to call it.”

There was only one kind of void that came to mind... now that Zoey thinks about it; it would be no surprise if this girl was one of Zoey's kind. Her eyes gestured towards the sigil of a snowflake on her hand before it drifted back up to the girl.

"Purgatory?" Zoey scoffed before she realized that could be a possibility. Before her line of questioning changed, "Girl, what sort of shit you on? Were you fuckin' with some kind of black magic or something?" She smiled wide as she chuckled... trying to play off her question as a joke - when it wasn't. She was trying to see how the girl would respond - and she was forcing herself to keep her eyes off Penny because she knows only one kind of magic.

However, the door opened and it revealed a girl. A very distinct African girl that had dreads in her hair, piercings, and thick earrings. Her many, many, tattoos were on full display as she was very ill-dressed for the weather. Wearing a tank top and bicycle shorts - she conspicuously had an arm covering her chest - and nothing else. However, she looked like she wasn't bothered at all with the observant eye noticing waves of heat coming off her body and the footprints in the snow that looked like it absolutely melted.

When the girl walked in her eyes immediately landed on Penny and her mouth went agape. However, she shook her head as she focused on the group of people and tried to keep her attention dispersed.

"Umm... hey," The witchy girl said, awkwardly smiling, "Do any of you guys know where we are? Or what's going on?"

[Majoraa]

The Silent Delinquent

It was strange, she could've sworn she hadn't passed out. The silent delinquent wandered around, trying to figure out where she was, how she got there. Though no matter what explanation she tried to come to a conclusion with, asides from being kidnapped, it didn't make sense. The delinquent made note to find whoever snatched her and get some answers. In the meantime, she might as well get comfortable. Who knew how long she'd be there?

Eventually she noticed there was other people stuck in no man's land, but the delinquent hesitated walking over to them, mulling over how to introduce herself and all. She searched her pockets to find her notepad and pen. Luckily she still had those with her.

She saw the group heading inside a nearby bar, about to make her way over when she saw a different girl going in after them herself. The delinquent hurried over, and stepped into the bar after the witch girl. She lightly waved to everyone else, writing a quick "Hi."

"Before anyone asks, I did not end up here with this chick." she added after, pointing her pen at the witchy girl. Looking around, this was an odd bunch, she thought. Slightly feeling bad for who seemed to be the only guy in the group.

[silvermist1116]

╚══════════════╝

He pulled his guitar case from his back and hugged it close like a shield between him and everyone else. His fingers itched to play, he came down from a panic attack, but he needed to completely calm down. This wasn't the time for it though. If he could lock himself away and alone with his music, he'd feel better about the situation, clear his mind enough to figure out how he's going to get home as shitty as it was. He kept his eyes on Zoey and Penny. Blondie went upstairs, then she came back a few minutes later. She didn't sit anywhere near him. Good. But he wasn't safe from her attention. He tensed up when she spoke to him.

“Hey dude, I saw what happened out there. Are you feeling okay?” The pen twirled and twirled and twirled in her hand. “Want something to drink?”

She voice was soft and she genuinely seemed concerned. That's different from Sandy. She would've told him to get over himself and stop being a pussy. He wasn't old enough for alcohol, but water didn't sound like a bad thing.

"Just a water, please." He kept his voice down, 'fraid to draw anymore attention to himself.

The door opened right after he spoke up. There was a black girl that looked like she stepped out of a voodoo movie. Her tattoos were pretty cool, but she was dressed the worst for the weather. She looked familiar with Penny. He's not sure if that was good thing or not. Does everyone know each other, except for him?

"Umm... hey. Do any of you guys know where we are? Or what's going on?"

Right behind her a blue haired girl walked in and apparently they weren't together. Is there going to be anyone else that reminds him of his ex popping up? How's the supposed to cope if he has to look at a constant reminder. He supposes it could be worse. People that look like his family could show up, then he'd be doomed.

He shook his head to answer voodoo girl's question. "Nope."

[Atrophy]

Penny’s eyes flicked over to Zoey and Beret Girl at the mention of black magic and stayed to linger on the cigarette. She forced herself to breakaway and return her attention to Guitar Guy, but she couldn’t escape the disgustingly delicious smell of a slow death. She didn’t even realize that the pen had made its way back into her mouth. A smoke would definitely take the edge off right now, and despite how she presented herself she was on edge—she just didn’t show it like the guy in front of her. He was clearly (and rightfully) disturbed by the situation; he had practically frozen in place when she had asked him a question.

“Just a water, please,” he said.

She figured he’d be a water guy. She couldn’t help the curl of her lip as she turned to Zoey. Penny figured that if the girl was going to raid the bar, she might as well play bartender. She was about to holler for two waters when the door opened. Penny’s head snapped towards the entrance as her left hand shot into her pocket, the initial look of pure hostility softening as an ill-dressed tattooed girl entered the bar. For a moment it almost looked like the stranger was shocked to see Penny, but it must’ve been in reaction to the murderous look Penny had thrown her way.

Something was off about the tattooed girl who asked the question that all of them should be asking, but then a blue-haired girl came in out of the snow. “Oh dear God no, there’s two of her,” muttered Penny to nobody. Penny wondered how Zoey would feel to another girl copping her style. Penny responded to the wave and written down “hi” with a lazy peace sign and chuckled at the added note. Could she not talk? Well, in Penny’s mind that put the new Zoey a few pegs above the old Zoey. She had heard that crime dog comment. She’d go to blows about McGruff later. For now they needed to figure out what was going on.

“So helpful,” said Penny curtly to Guitar Guy before looking back at Tattooed Girl, “but, honestly, yeah. Nope. Only ran into these kids because Zoey”—she jerked her thumb at the girl—”opened her big mouth.” She gave a look towards the Beret Girl as she continued, “Perhaps if we all actually said where we were before we woke up here instead of speaking in riddles then we could actually begin to figure things out.”

Penny paused. Come to think of it, she was the only one who ever mentioned waking up in the strange city. Maybe the whole thing about the void wasn’t some nonsense word salad but straight up earnesty. She looked at Beret Girl more intently than she had done before, as if she was going to unearth some secrets just by staring her down. No, this was pointless. The girl wore a beret. Girls who wore berets were inherently unfathomable, because if Penny could ever actually relate with a girl who wore a beret it meant she’d have to kill herself for being a poser. But there was something else. Penny’s eyes narrowed. It was like she was looking at a doll.

Fucking creep.

“Anyway,” she continued after the pause that was too long not for everyone to notice, “as I was saying: I think it’ll be smart if we all shared a little about ourselves.”

Beret Girl wasn’t the only one with something off about her.

“Since it was my idea, I guess I’ll start,” she said cheerfully as she stood up.

Looking at the new girls, she couldn’t help but notice how the Newer, Bluer Zoey still had some snow on her while the other girl didn’t.

“My name is Penny,” she said as she began to walk down the stairs. Her tone was casual as she made her way toward the bar. She continued, “I’m from Montana, but I was travelling to New York. I closed my eyes while waiting for my flight in Chicago and I woke up on some park bench.”

Of the people she knew, why one from that time? Why Zoey fucking Gray?

“This actually isn’t the first time something like this has happened to me,” said Penny, as if that in itself was no big deal. She uncapped the pen from her mouth, lowered her eyes, and began to draw on Zoey’s abandoned bottle of vodka. “Not the whole being teleported from an airport and waking up in some strange city with a bunch of confused strangers, actually, that part is new, but weird things?” She grinned and looked up from her graffiti. Her eyes weren’t smiling. “I can handle weird things.”

She didn’t trust these people.

No, it’s not that...

She didn’t trust that these were people.

“So, that’s me. Who’s next?” She had made certain that her back was to nobody as she set the vodka down and spun the bottle. It hadn’t stopped before she pointed a finger at Tattooed Girl. “You're it. Who are you, where are you from, how’d you get here, and how in the fuck aren’t you freezing right now?”

[Mixtape Ghost N]

---

---

---

The voodoo girl rolled her eyes at the kid with the guitar and the girl who walked in.

"Oh, what the hell?" Zoey asked when a girl that looked like a paler version of herself walked into the room. She was pale, dressed like a punk and had... fully blue hair. Which was bullshiiiit because that her schtick. Though in all fairness - Zoey was the sexier one.

"Hey there, sexy." Zoey jokingly said in her gruff voice, "Didn't know I had a fan."

Then Penny took charge of things as per usual, and Zoey couldn't help but chuckle. The girl hardly changes at all in the few years it's been since she saw her. Though, she was the only person trying to get to the bottom to this and Zoey realized that was smart. Because Zoey's only idea was getting drunk again and hoping that she ends up back at the party.

Teleporting somewhere weird every time you get blackout drunk. Wouldn't that be a shitty superpower?

“My name is Penny.”

"Nice to meet you a second time, blondie." Zoey sarcastically added on. Though, she talked about how she was in an airport and ended up here... which weirdly sounded like what Zoey herself went through. Penny's attention was, however, on the newcomers. Mainly the black girl with all the tattoos - a few years ago Zoey would have joked about Penny liking chocolate - that did seem weird. For starters, it was fucking cold outside, and even Zoey had to admit it was fuckin' cold.

"Nice to meet you, too," Other than that the girl with tattoos was quiet the whole time... She didn't seem all that interested in Penny talking about herself and instead her eyes drifted towards the girl with blue hair and stayed on her. She felt like a lot of suspicions were on her. Maybe it was just the way she looked, but she did admit if nothing else she didn't play up the "normal girl" angle super well. She simply wanted the girl to introduce herself... which she was glad to comply with.

"My name is Odessa Maxwell," The girl told her full name, despite how weird it was, "Last time I checked, I was in Richmond last time I checked... sleeping in my bed as you could have guessed." She gestured down at her sleepwear but still kept her arm covering her chest. Though, the last question was a tricky one... it was simply not something she was prepared to tell. Especially not with a few other peculiar ones here - not until they prove their worth.

"The cold just doesn't bother me," Odessa said, but gave the girl with the knowing smile an... equally knowing smile. "It's like my superpower."

She shook her head as she focused on the girl with blue hair.

"How about you friend?" Odessa said, "You look like you have something interesting to tell about yourself."

[Opposition]

---

---

10

"Producing and developing,
Producing without possessing,
Doing without presuming,
growing without domineering:
this is called—"

"Magic?" The enigmatic girl evoked a soft laugh through closed lips. For the briefest moment, those watching may have noticed the corners of her lips curl upwards. That straight stare remained, though, a different sort of complexity. "No— Lao Tzu preferred 'mysterious power', 'the constant', 'the Way'."

She brought her drink to her lips yet again, unmoving eyes frozen upon the girl who questioned her. Uncertainty, hesitation, confusion ran through all of them, and immediately some would let their minds become fogged—drift into the irrational. Not her. "Take your pick, Zoey," she said, flicking a gaze towards the girl who had arrived second and already searched desperately for order in purgatory. The girl took another drink, then another, and another. She tried to tell herself it was to keep her mind clear.

More folks trickled in after that. First came a heavily-tattooed girl who was certainly underdressed for the weather, but then, weren’t they all? Next came someone, who by the girl had guessed, was mute due to her scrawled messages in place of any verbal correspondence. When the group started to exchange introductions and rattle off questions at one another, she dropped her hands back onto the bar, falling into a seat gently and silently atop the counter. She settled closer to the wall once Penny had moved behind the bar. Her intentions were unclear, but her demeanor was easy enough to spot. She was relaxed, but her back was judiciously kept away from the parade of strangers.

She wasn’t one to speak up when it wasn’t all that necessary, particularly when her newfound horde was busy interrogating one another. She did observe with an unscrupulous eye, perhaps for the briefest moment showing a glimpse of perplexion. They all talked so strangely, she thought. All suspicious and knowing. Of course, she wasn’t one to judge in that department. That was her whole deal, after all.

[Majoraa]

The Silent Delinquent

Oh. Oh god what. The delinquent's eyes widened when she noticed the other bluenette (semi-bluenette??) in the room. Isn't that awkward? Atleast she seemed like a cool person. "More like a twin than a fan. I hardly even know ya'." she wrote, jokingly rolling her eyes in response. Apparently the blonde chick, Penny, and the other girl knew each other. Though it wasn't in a good way, as far as she could tell. The only boy in the group seemed haunted by something, the delinquent didn't feel like bothering him with questions would lift his spirits, atleast at the moment.

The other strange one in the group seemed like an observer type of person, but the girl's empty expression gave the delinquent chills. A curious one, even then. Still, everyone seemed to be tense. They knew something wasn't as it seemed, but no one was willing to speak up about it. Atleast the tattooed girl, Odessa, dropped a hint. Then she turned to address the delinquent. Well, she might as well explain.

"Guess I should introduce myself first. Name's Lilith. Lilith Kingsley. Yes, I'm mute, and I have no clue why or how the hell I got here, same as you lot. But I do know one thing. You're all aware of the Extra-Normal, right?" Lilith paused for a second.

"To put it simply, I know you're all Extra-Normal beings, like I am." she shrugged.

[Mixtape Ghost N]

---

---

---

"Magic? No— Lao Tzu preferred 'mysterious power', 'the constant', 'the Way'."

"Like Sun Tzu or somethin'?" Zoey shrugged her shoulders as the girl talked like a fucking haiku or something. It was hard going back and forth between this weirdo and the other (not as sexy as her) blue-haired girl. Zoey, however, she had a feeling that the girl was magic. Just that she had a different name for it? She didn't know. She heard that other places had other names for magic, and if she were to take a guess, this girl was from one of those other places. Still, Zoey was going to play her cards right.

Though, she felt like she should be more worried about the big questions. Like why the hell they're here! Or better yet, how to get back to LA!

"Can I pick the one that stops you from talking like Haiku bot?" Zoey snickered as she focused on the girl with blue hair. She took a puff out of her cigarette.

"Guess I should introduce myself first. Name's Lilith. Lilith Kingsley. Yes, I'm mute, and I have no clue why or how the hell I got here, same as you lot. But I do know one thing. You're all aware of the Extra-Normal, right? To put it simply, I know you're all Extra-Normal beings like I am.

Suddenly Zoey stopped in her tracks, she held that cigarette mere centimeters away from her lips - and her lungs were so desperate for the taste of cigarettes. A lot of red flags were set off in her head. For starters, why would she even say that? Zoey had a feeling all of this was because of supernatural nonsense. She narrowed her eyes at Lilith before her mouth opened,

"What? Did all of that hair dye seep into your brain or something?" Zoey chuckled as she finally took a puff of her cancer stick. "Extra-Normal beings? That shit's crazy!" Though, she was happy that little snowflake looked like an ordinary tattoo.

On the other hand, Odessa smiled as she kept eye contact with the blue-haired girl. The girl was certainly playing a special card here... except it was one card too many. She put her hands together as what Lilith said was not a surprise to Odessa.

"I've dabbled in the extra-normal a little, but I don't kiss and tell," Odessa said as she shook her head, "But, you didn't continue the name game, Lilith." She chuckled.

"You're bad at this."

[silvermist1116]

╚══════════════╝

Penny, Zoey, Odessa, that's a pretty name, and Lilith, like the devil's wife. He rotated the names in his head over and over so he didn't forget them. He'll probably be stuck with them for however long it takes to get back home and he doesn't want to cause any trouble or offend anyone, because he forgot their name. Penny, Zoey, Odessa, Lilith. Nothing complicated. Should be easy to remember. He looked at the girl with the beret. She hasn't introduced herself yet and he kinda doesn't want to either for fear of having everyone's attention on him, but he also doesn't want to be the last one to do so either. People remember the last to go better than the first or anyone in between, so he opens his mouth the slightest bit, licks his lips, and introduces himself.

"I'm Stacey. Stacey Gray." He kept his voice low and waved, then gripped his guitar case again, face red, heart racing, chest full of nerves, his breath feels a little labored. His anxiety never went away, but he's doing his best not to tailspin into another one. He needs the attention off of him, so he looks at beret girl and quickly asks, "What's your name?" Next please. Stop paying attention to him.

[Ratattack]

╚══════════════╝

"Wow."

A stranger walked in cigarette in hand, it looked like he shared something with Zoey. He pulled a match out from his pocket, his other hand serviced himself as he put a Deluxe Moresovr-Gand cigarette in his mouth. He quickly struck the match off the wall as it lit up with a hiss, wanting to die as it quickly as possible before it made contact with the cigarette. Burning tobacco and hope from it's tip as the stranger brought the cancer stick to his mouth. He inhaled as he started to step inside the bar, snow falling off him and melting from the unrelenting warmth that the bar provided.

He walked in, heading towards one thing that stuck on his mind. While walking by the booths he passed the kid with the guitar, Stacey Gray? No that was definetly not his name, he aggressively exhaled smoke towards him as the cigarette continued to burn rudely in the diner. "Something tells me that's not your name." He made his way to the J U K E B O X. Where he contemplated what song he would grace the prescence of company that presented itself before him in this makeshift hostel of booze and broken dreams. He slid a coin into the hungry maw of the mechanical monstrosity before him, a song caught his eye but he had to make a quick accessment.

---

A quick assessment - a mental review of everyone here
By: ???

Guitar-boy: Stacey wasen't his name, no one would name their kid that unless it was some kind of ironic punishment to inflict onto society. The bullying the social stigma. Look at the physical tell tale signs, he's sweating, nervous, quiet. He carries around a guitar maybe he's one of those kids who is only confident when they sing in the shower. Wait. . .

Is Stacey actually a chick!? Why does he look and sound like a man. Considering the situation nothing could be taken off the table.

Sure it's strange to be named as a chick, but what if this nervous bucket of boy is actually a woman in some kind of form?

Observe, analyze, conclude.

"Sorry Stacey, I take that back. Your elevated heartbeat and anxiety had me judge you incorrectly." He almost sounded sincere but he was more annoyed at his snap-judgement betraying him.

Pretty-girl: Probably the nicest looking one among them was the blonde, drop-dead gorgeous. Like the type of 'valley girls' you see back in old-mags. She looked strong and independent, like a leader-chick. Though seldom there are few in today's society.

Cool-Smoker-Chick: Blue hair, smoking... Holy shit she has a huge rack! The man stopped his train of thought for a moment as his eyes gazed over the punk's physique. His cigarette threatening to fall from his lips as he closed his jaw. She seemed like she was a poser, like the ones that do it for attention. Bets were on that she was a cold bitch or snappy, fun at a party but annoying when she's sober. He should of just poured her a drink, if only he knew she was here when he walked in. Fuck

Smoker-chick-clone: She looked just like that smoker chick, same blue hair and everything. It's like they were twins? She seemed quiet, not like the type of I'm a loner quiet. He's seen that type but it's just a theory, just like Stacey. Something is bugging him about her though.

Tribal-Lady: Dressed poorly for the weather, lots of tattoos. Defintely not from around here, very strange. Most people in Africa are fighting in the war right now.

Finally...

Beret-Girl: Just looking at her for a moment makes his head spin, it's just not right. He tries to think about who, what, anything about her. He wants to form an opinion or analysis about her but can't. She's unfucking readable.

---

It was done in only a few moments, mentally he felt exhausted. Just speaking addressing Stacey during that was kind of a bummer, but he had made his assumptions and analyzed what he could. Still he felt like he was behind on everything, he had missed so much. His only hunch about Stacey seemed the most logical thing he could cling onto, but he was over thinking. Everyone was watching him, probably thinking who the fuck is this guy. Why the fuck did he just question Stacey's name? He was totally going over board, he wasen't sure if he was ever going to stop himself.

Hopefully no one could read his thoughts, the things that go on their would beat this place out of the water. He could feel some heat on him, resentment? It didn't matter, he didn't break his pokerface nor did he drop his guard. He turned back to the jukebox for a second, he knew what song to pick. He was going to play a old song, something that his grand father listended to back in the day. If he had known his grand father, the song still stuck to him. He liked it, the vocals, the beat it would make his feet move. Now wasen't the time to dance, but the song would fix everything.

Click.

The song began to play, he took another drag from the cigarette it screamed out in pain to his ears as he held in the smoke for just one moment before exhaling it violently through his nose. He looked up to ice-queen with a little extra on her chest, locking eyes with her for a moment. "I'm taking bets." he said taking another drag from the cigarette as he leaned up against the jukebox hoping no one was too irritated with him yet.

"We're dead, we're here for a reason, or we're suffering for something we did." he said dragging in another mouthful of smoke as the music played. He made sure his right side pressed up against the jukebox, his suit jacket was covering past down his waist a few inches but he seemed secluded like there was a bigger picture he was hiding. "I think we're here for a very special reason, five bucks says that." he said smirking, he killed the cigarette - good riddens. He flicked the butt over the bar's counter.
"Am I wrong in saying that, this is something special?" He chuckled, his voice was smooth almost like a singers but he wasen't a singer.

He definetly, was not a singer.