Farmington, Connecticut (RPG Location)

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Juno_Fei

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Juno frowned upon seeing Will's ill feigned hesitance, crossing her arms in mild shame. It was a lot to ask, electing someone to participate in a high stakes narcotics deal wasn't exactly typical for newly acquainted friends. However, her faith in the jaded boy was absolute, even if he doubted his own capabilities.

"Will..." She tried to gather his attention, looking into his eyes. "I promise you that you'll be safe. I wouldn't hesitate to expose my identity if there was even a hint of something going wrong, okay? Just think of it this way, if we pull this off? The group will be financially stable for years. That's one less problem we have to deal with, right?"

The witch lightly punched his arm with a comforting smile, nodding her head back to their cart. "Come on, I think this is all we can fit in the van, anyway."

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Red_Jay

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Will's decision wasn't the best of choices, nor was it the smartest. Though all the while - his mind was built somewhat of a dictionary, a cascade of truths that one could never change - despite their thoughts of a particular thing. And right now, Will was getting himself lost in the thoughts - and ignoring the facts, the true facts.

He clicked his tongue, reaching out to his neck to rub the back of it, "Right. One less problem to worry about." He took a short moment to once again check the other end of the aisle, to only come to the same conclusion as the last, no one watching.

Will chuckled, somewhat of a stride back to the cart. The cart seemed to be full to the brim, with things he couldn't even assume to be at the bottom, "Yup, well, I hope."

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Juno_Fei

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Juno swung the back doors of the van open, grabbing a few bags of their groceries to carefully place inside. The silence returned again, but it was noticeably different this time. Instead of an awkward pause from neither of them knowing what to say, Juno knew it was due to Will being lost in his own thoughts.

After grabbing a few more bags, she glanced up at him with a smirk. "So how are you liking The Haven so far, anyway? I know it's not much right now, but you can't argue that it's a pretty cool place to live."

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BlhazeRider

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#54  Edited By BlhazeRider
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Ed Warren was once a convicted criminal wanted for a long list of petty crimes. He never did much hard core stuff so his sentence was a light one. He served his time and has since been released. Finding a job was difficult but he got one in Farmington at a fast food joint not far from a shopping center.

What most don't know about Ed Warren is that just last night, he beat his girlfriend so badly that he killed her. He would claim he didn't mean to and when he came off his high of anger, he panicked as he realized what he had done. Instead of turning himself in to the police, Ed hid the body and buried her in the woods. Ed knows what prison is like and he never wants to go back.

Lately Ed has been having nightmares, terrible nightmares of this man with a burning skull. The Blaze Rider. And now today as he works his job at the fast food place, he takes orders but he's sweating. Not because of the heat of the day, the place has air conditioning. Ed is sweating from being nervous. Everywhere he looks the shadows seem to be jumping at him. Out of the corner of his eyes, it seems as if that ghostly figure of the Blaze Rider is there...staring him...staring with those empty eye sockets. A skull that burns without being consumed.

Ed has heard the stories of the Blaze Rider, never believing such an urban legend to be true. Even now he has his doubts. But a part of him asks: What if those stories are true? What if the Blaze Rider really does exist? During Ed's lunch break, he goes out back to smoke a cigarette. He sits down and accidentally drops his lighter. When he goes to pick it up, he sees the black boot of a man standing there. A black gloved hand reaches down and offers him the lighter back. "Thanks man, I--" Ed's cigarette drops from his mouth as his body begins shaking visibly as he stares up into the burning skull of the Blaze Rider. The fire comes off his entire head. Smoke rising in the air, the empty eye sockets stare back into Ed's frightened eyes.

Ed has never been so afraid in his entire life. He's like a deer caught in the headlights of a car as a weak whimper escapes his lips. In a flash of speed that is far too quick for Ed to even see, the Blaze Rider's hand is around the man's throat. The man with the burning skull smells like fire and sulfer as Ed is pulled close, closer than he'd like. Ed begins choking as his feet leave the ground as the Blaze Rider lifts him up.

The true horror begins as Ed sees every crime he has ever committed from his victims point of few, including the murder from last a week ago. Someone is screaming. Ed doesn't even realize it's him. By the time the people inside the fast food restaurant answer those screams by investigating outside, the Blaze Rider is gone and Ed is in a fetal position, rocking back and forth and saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

The sound of a motorcycle is heard driving away, leaving a blazing trail of fire in it's wake.

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Red_Jay

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Will stood there, lost in his own thoughts as he sub-consciously aided Juno in stocking the van. “What did I just agree too?” He continued to ask of himself, somewhat regretting his decision by the minute. Not only was he going to be involved in a high stakes drug deal; but he was also risking the lives of his fellow Outcasts all the while, but if Juno was actually speaking the truth of the outcomes of the deal, Will knew it was too much of a good deal to pass.

Once hearing Juno’s voice, Will shook his head regaining his focus on the real world other than his own, “Oh the house? It’s great... Really. Probably the first house real house I had in a long while if you ignore the school that is.” He answered, looking at Juno as the two finish stocking the van with groceries, “How’d you find it anyways?”

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Juno_Fei

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Juno slammed the doors shut and smiled. "I'm glad you like it, I'm not really sure that opinion is shared with the rest." She rolled her eyes, recalling all of the complaints she's heard about the house since they moved in. "I bought you an ashtray for the living room by the way, use it...."The witch glared at him, not so subtly referring to the fact that Will had been flicking his cigarette butts on the floor beside the couch.

Taking a second to think about Will's question, Juno leaned back on the van and twirled the keys around her finger. "It was a marked dead drop for smugglers in the area, but I bought the intel and took it off the map. It was the last favor I called in before going under, so I guess we're lucky it played out the way it did. I was supposed to use it for storing more contraband like... Well what's in the basement, but then everything else happened, so now here we are."

The smuggler slipped her sunglasses on, right as a thought ran through her mind. "Oh!" She snapped her fingers, pulling out a hefty brown envelope and holding it out to Will. "I almost forgot. I need you to buy some security equipment. Nothing fancy, just some motion sensors and decent cameras for the perimeter. I'm putting you in charge of maintaining the house perimeter as chore work. You'll be collaborating with Venilia, since she's the house's bodyguard." Juno gave him a smirk while shaking the envelope. "There's seven grand in there. Six for the equipment, and a cool thousand for you if you just do this without snarking the hell out of me, okay?"

If Will attempted to grab the envelope, Juno would very subtly pull it away for a second. "This stays unrelated to what we discussed earlier, by the way."

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Red_Jay

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A small yet significant smile grew across his face at Juno’s statement of buying him his own ashtray, “ha, thanks Juno. I’m sure the others will grow on the house the more they realize they need it” his words rolled off his tongue in somewhat of a reassuring fashion. “Plus, it’s a damn cool house” his utmost smile molded into a designated smirk.

Now was the question that had lingered in his mind the second they arrived at the mansion; how? The answer surprisingly came to no surprise to the bird-themed vigilante seeing as little to no facial expression looked over his face, “huh, interesting. So if the house was a former dead drop for smugglers; is there also a chance that.. maybe one of those smugglers left something behind?” He questioned, referring to the vastness of the mansion which only leads to unexplored crevices.

His thoughts eluded once hearing Juno’s abrupt “oh!” Listening through Juno’s request Will’s faceless expressions faded, and in came a quirked brow. “I can do that, I was wondering if we were gonna security set up there” he eyed the pressed envelope that held Juno’s seven grand. The two stood in an open parking lot doing what looked to be a high profile drug deal, but Will paid no mind to be logistics, “You sure? I can always snag some stuff without having to pay.” His face formed into a half-grin, recalling the heroism he was supposed to look up to; then again nothing he’s been doing lately was heroic.

“Unrelated, of course.” He didn’t reach for the envelope, if what Juno said about the group's affluence problem was true, other motives would have to be put into place.

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Juno_Fei

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Juno's lips curled into a devilish smirk as Will detailed his capabilities of "acquiring" equipment without the need of money. "There he is..." She mused to herself, feeling an ounce of pride for the Red Jay. That was exactly what interested Juno so much, what inspired her to give him a chance at the black market trade. Behind all of that self doubt and woefulness was a maverick, a rebel without a cause and had the skills and sharp mind to utilize such a complex.

Still, as tempting as it was, Juno simply chuckled and gently smacked the envelope on his chest, expecting him to grab it. "Nooooo. As amazing as that suggestion is, Farmington is a really small network. Remember, we need to keep a low profile if we intend on keeping the Haven a secret. If we start lifting tech and showing off powers? They'll be at our doorstep with pitchforks and torches before you could say "Witch hunt." The goth's gaze trailed off, letting out a stressed exhale at a sudden thought. "I still have to talk to Ven about not breaking someone in half when she's in town... So we'll see how that chat goes."

She snapped her attention back to Will, giving him a smile while patting the envelope he held one last time. "I'm taking these groceries back to the house. I did not just pay for twenty bucks worth of ice cream for it to melt all over my van. Text me when you get those supplies, okay? I'll swing by and pick you up." Juno pursed her lips, now walking towards the door. "I'd give you a portal but... Well, "laying low" and all of that."

The dealer started the van up, now pulling away and waving through the open window. "You got this, Will! I see big things happening for you down the road!"

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Thief

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#59  Edited By Thief

171 Miles outside of Farmington, at a lonely diner. 2:24AM

No Caption Provided

Betty had worked the counter of the Butchmann Family Diner for precisely 30 years that evening. Despite her age, she didn't find much trouble in working the graveyard shift. It was never much of a lonely time, a few staff members were happy to run the shift with her and her usually smirking face brightened the mood of the customers that found themselves in the diner at those unusual hours no matter what the circumstance. It had been a slow evening, only about a dozen or so customers since the start of her shift. Only one of her usuals, a night guard from the trucking depot down the road remained at the counter, and he was just finishing up his meal.

He scribbled his signature on the receipt beside his plate, nudging it towards the waitress with a semblance of a smile despite his tiredness. "Good as usual, Betty. Give those guys back there my thanks." Betty's good nature was a prominent as usual, giving him a warm smile before he headed out again for the night. "I'll be sure to do that, Todd. You have yourself a goo...-" Her voice trailed off, as she saw the man place down a tip onto the counter, a whole twenty dollars, her eyes glanced back up towards hers. "A twenty?" "Yup." "Your damn meal was twenty, Todd." He responded with a chuckle, getting up off of his stool and placing his cap back onto his matted brown hair. "Have a good one, Betts. See ya tomorrow." Her eyed rolled as she begrudgingly took his notably excessive tip, tucking it into the pocket of her apron, wishing him a quick goodbye while he opened the doors, making his way out into the darkness of the night. Her eyes trailed his silhouette through the window until it had disappeared around the corner. She couldn't help but snicker to herself at his stubborn charity when she had caught the sight of another silhouette coming around the corner, bigger than Todd's. Goosebumps appeared on her arms, the hair on her neck standing up in concern. It was probably for no good reason, but something just set her off. Though she could have sworn she didn't see a car pull in, she could have very well been wrong.

Her head turned back as she went to grab another menu from the shelf behind her, her cheery tone breaking through her paranoia as she did so. "Welcome to Butchmann's, can I get you started with someth-....ing..."

Her eyes went wide, her face had gone pale, her hands dropping to her sides while the menu slipped from her fingers, floating gently to the ground.

171 Miles outside of Farmington, at a lonely diner. 2:29AM

A car was blasting down the roadway, breaking the speed limit three times over; with driving so erratic that any bystander would think the driver was intoxicated. The speakers boomed with the music of some country station in association with random bursts of abrupt static, that could have been from the isolation of the area, or the general state of the fractured radio. The car itself was an early 90s model, rusted through in some parts and decorated with bullet entries where it wasn't. The plates were bloodied. With the fresh, albeit mangled, carcass of deer from further down the road dragging behind the bumper, hopefully unbeknownst to the driver.

A sneaker, as red as the droplets that stained it pressed down even further onto the creaking gas pedal until it was planted firmly against the floorboard. The aged road map, probably just as old as the car itself was crumpled on the floor of the back seat underneath some burger wrappers, it appeared that the driver knew exactly where they were going, or maybe there was no destination in the first place. Though, as the lights of the diner came close, the station wagon took an abrupt turn as the parking brake was simultaneously yanked. Tires screeched loudly through the silent night while the vehicle skidded across blacktop in a thankfully empty parking lot, somehow not flipping itself over in the process. But the deer was finally knocked loose in the act, sliding across the parking lot until meeting the curb near the entrance of the diner.

The car meanwhile, sat dormant. It's headlights high-beaming through the windows of the diner while the exhaust slowly emanated from the tail pipe, a stark contrast to the state of the car just moments earlier. With an audible creak, the door of the car opened up various items ranging from fast food garbage to diamond rings clattered out onto the ground almost as if it was a mockery of a red carpet being rolled out for the feet that soon followed it. A boisterously colored chicken mask leaving the car's doorframe after. Cluck stretched his arms wide with an arrogantly loud yawn accompanying it. In one drooping hand he clutched a revolver that lowered to his side while he scanned the neon sign, humming over top of the eatery. "Oh boy, what I wouldn't give some bacon...Ooo, and some ice cream too!" His sneaker pressed up against the door of the car, shoving it shut with a stiff movement, then stumbling over towards the door. "Or some bacon flavored ice cream if they even make..." His mask turned downwards, the expressionless stare of it gazing upon the animal's cadaver almost with an unsaid sense of disgust and a shake of his head while he made his way for the door. "What kind of sick freak hits a poor deer anyway? And a six pointer at that..." The chicken had no qualms with looting the dead despite his grievances, one of antlers of the animal suddenly disappearing from it's head, instead being held in Cluck's gloved hand and being quickly tucked away into his pocket. "Oh...that's right..." He laughed to himself, pulling open the door of the diner and taking a sudden step inside, his handgun raising up towards the register immediately.

His laughter died to a slow halt while his handgun hesitantly lowered, his head faced forwards. No register in sight. The body of a woman hung from the wall a couple feet off the ground right near where it probably should have been, a large piece of rebar having been slammed right through her chest and plunged probably right through the wall behind her. As Cluck walked forwards in a silence he glanced carefully over the sight. Her head had been flattened with some kind of blunt instrument, but it looked more like a boot print was apparent on her face judging by the mud. Her hand still clutched the rebar in her chest with a truly deathly tight grip, but it certainly didn't do her any good in the end. Though it was a truly gruesome sight, he couldn't help but notice that...particular twenty through the thin fabric of her apron pocket. "Since you don't have any ice cream, guess I'll just help myself..."Reaching ahead slowly he dipped his hand into her bloodied pocket, pinching the reddened dollar between his index and middle finger, lifting it out and tucking it into his own.

Now that he stood behind the counter, it became apparent that there was more than one victim here.

A man in a navy blue jumpsuit lay crumpled beneath a collapsed shelf, his cap resting over his probably mangled face. With that shelf as high as it was, it almost somehow seemed lore likely that he had been flung into it. At the other end of the counter another man, although looking much younger lay blank faced. His eyes staring without emotion at the quietly humming fluorescent lights overhead, their hum only being challenged by the sound of some sort of country music that still played quietly over the speakers. The thief made his way over, the boy's entire chest had been caved in with the cash register that Cluck sought. He leaned down, opening it up. Surprisingly, every dollar inside appeared to be left in the cash drawer. At least one thing was clear, about this, even for Cluck while he emptied the drawer out row by row into his pockets. Whoever did this wasn't trying to rob the place, unlike himself. Without cops having shown up yet, the perpetrator would have probably had no reason to run off without taking the cash...unless...

His eyes finally took notice of the boot prints beside the teen. They were composed of blood, with a footprint that looked well over twice the size of Cluck's. The chicken rose to a stand, his revolver perking up slightly as he tracked the prints past the horrifically bludgeoned body towards the stainless steel, swinging doors of the kitchen. A large bloody handprint, definitely matching up with the size of the footprint was placed against the metal. Much to Cluck's discomfort, the print was still wet.

Cluck slowly moved over towards the door, nudging it open and moving inside as slowly as he could. This was, most likely, a dangerous situation, one of which involved the voice in his head finally convincing him to cut the crap and keep quiet while he made his way into the belly of the beast, to hopefully find the safe, or whoever had done this and possibly taken some of his much treasured loot.

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Red_Jay

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#60  Edited By Red_Jay

Will somewhat regretted having those words leave his mouth, seeing how he took a moment to realize the fact that in fact, that words did leave his mouth. Though the response from Juno wasn’t sour nor was it berating, it was just the typical understandable response he usually gets from the Dark Angel. “Alright fine” He took a moment to check the duo’s surroundings, which only came to the conclusion of unwary pedestrians.

He lightly grasped onto the envelope Juno pressed against his chest with a hawk-like glare, “Alright Juno, I’ll try to get the... “Supplies” then come straight home afterwards” He slipped the thick envelope into his back pocket, sending Juno one last nod before she departed, “And make sure Oz doesn’t place his hands on my ice cream! … That’s probably melting right now” He ceased to hold up Juno anymore, waving as the wheels of her van turn the opposite way.

“I guess it’s time to 007 this sh!t”

@juno_fei I hope that counts as a good conclusion post, LOL

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A_Killer

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The horrors would continue as Cluck entered the kitchen, where the most gristly of the violence had just occurred. If the chicken listened closely enough, he would hear the noise of gurgling coming from over near the burners near the back. Upon closer inspection, he would finally see where it was coming from...

An massive figure was knelt down beside the diner's cook, who's feet were twitching away as the only semblance of life left in the poor victim. The figure utilized a carving knife to slowly but surely saw into the cook's neck, his motions were aggressive yet reserved at the same time. After a few more sickening slices, the figure dropped the knife, and grabbed hold of the cook's head. With one clean motion and a loud *CRACK* later, the cook's now decapitated head was in the figure's clutches, standing up from the headless corpse and turning to the red hot burner. With contempt, the figure slammed the head down on the burner stump first, instantly creating a noisy sizzle as the meat started cooking.

Cluck would get a better glance at the figure, as he just stood there staring down at the head, his own tilted curiously while watching, almost entranced by the display of brutality. He wore a bloodied pig mask, resembling a ghastly combination of human and swine features. The killer was built like a tank, that much was even apparent under his thick denim jacket, his giant shoulders bobbing up and down with each muffled breath he took.

After the head was now horrifically cooked, the Pig turned away from his work, and walked over to the corpse of the other chef, who's lifeless body was slumped down against the wall next to him. A large cleaver stuck out of his skull, his death being a fortunately quick one compared to his coworker. With one clean motion, Pig plucked the cleaver out of his victim's skull...

*SQUEAK* Went Cluck's shoe, having slipped through a small puddle of blood.

Pig's looked behind him in a fast blur, looking to see how he could have possibly left someone alive. As soon as his gaze targeted Cluck, his foot stomped forward... Before stopping suddenly...

It took all of Pig's murderous lust to cease his assault, and witness what stood before him. A mysterious figure, much scrawnier than himself, wearing a chicken mask. For whatever reason, Pig remained where he stood, and silently glared at Cluck through the eerily shadowed eyes of his own animal mask.

"..."

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FarSeeker

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@a_killer: That was... disturbing. In a good way. It really gives a feeling for the character and the kind of sick, demented, horror show of a person he is. Really, really good.

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A_Killer

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Thief

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#64  Edited By Thief

@a_killer:

With an empty gaze, Cluck stared at the back of the killer, watching and listening to the sickening sounds of a constant squelching. Whoever it was, had a darkness surrounding their massive figure. Through the gap between his legs, the chicken caught sight of a pair of legs, barely jerking and squirming as the sound went on until at last, with a final squelch with an echoing snap, the scene had come to an abrupt close. The killer had torn the head off with...his hands...placing it on a burner of the stove for no apparent reason, and he did so without even a word.

He was a truly massive figure, Cluck's curious stare locked onto the denium jacket, freckled with evidence of past murders aside from what had been committed in the diner that night, especially around the cuffs of the sleeves. Something...familiar radiated off of the figure, something that Cluck felt in the pit of his stomach. A sort of coldness that sent a chill up his spine. It wasn't until the killer took a few paces back to observe the head sizzling in the flame that the coldness in Cluck became so great that it froze him solid.

A mask, a mask of a pig. Emotionless, Empty of expression and speckled with fresh blood that still dribbled down the pink exterior of the mask.

The air of the kitchen was thick with the scent of burning hair and cooking flesh, nearly enough to turn the chicken's stomach along with the sudden sense of dread that had overcome his body. Whatever the pig had taken off the bodies, whatever was in that safe...wasn't worth it. Staying there was death; some part of the chicken's carefree mind was certain of that. Cluck turned on his heel slowly, making his way back towards the set of doors. Just as the pig had begun to make his way towards the wall, each thumping step he took shaking the aluminum kitchenware around the chicken's head.

He had been only a few feet from the door when he heard the sickening sound of meat being torn apart in a sudden motion. It was enough to merit a cautious glance from the chicken, but unfortunate enough to come at a moment when Cluck's foot hovered over a pool of blood that could have been from any number of the victims, lay on the floor below the bottom of his sneaker. The rubber of his sole ripped across the wet floor in a rather sudden shatter of the silence in the kitchen. It took only a second long for the usual thump of the footsteps to grow jarringly louder, towards the chicken.

Not wanting to lose a second, Cluck immediately rose to a stand, stealing a cooking pan from across the kitchen while he turned suddenly to face the pig. Finding something that perhaps chilled him even more than than the sight of a head roasting on top of a stove. The pig had stopped any pursuit, instead staying in a frozen, yet, aggressive stance. With each slow, calculated breath the pig took, his massive shoulders bobbed up and down. While the chicken's chest heaved inwards and outwards with his admittedly frantic breathing, his frying pan raised halfway as he took a partial step backwards from the figure that looked at him with unclear intent.

The cold eyes, a blank stare. Cluck couldn't escape the feeling that he was staring at a mirror rather than another living person. A silence stunk in the air between them, the thief keeping an unusual silence as he eyed up the killer in front of him and the cleaver, probably taken from this very kitchen, gripped with what the chicken could only interpret as malice.

Nevertheless, again, some part of Cluck's mind knew better...fighting it was useless, especially with a pan. With a glance downwards towards the cooking utensil the chicken slowly lowered it back onto the counter with another pace backwards, his posture straightening partially as he held his breath, facing the man in front of him with a blank stare to match his own.

"Y-You're back too...huh?"

He'd pause for a moment, pushing down the lump in his throat before speaking again. In an unusual manner, the chicken wasn't joking around. It was evident that he was nervous, maybe even frightened for his life at that point.

"Listen I-...We didn't...come here for you, I was going to rob this place and-...I...don't want any trouble..."

Cluck was listening intently to the voices of his mind, his hands partially raising non-threateningly as his head tilted in a manner similar to the pig's usual stance. Taking another pace back, only to find himself cornered. His back against the fridge behind himself though, even then he dared not to panic. As to hopefully not let the pig realize how truly shaken the thief had become.

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A_Killer

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#65  Edited By A_Killer

Pig stood as still as a statue while Cluck went through the usual motions whenever he left a victim to react. First, the chicken contemplated retaliation, picking up a pan as a woeful tool of defense. The mountain of muscle still didn't move, only thinking of how he would roast the robbers head in that very pan, should he have chosen to take a swing. Instead, Cluck moved onto what usually follow in the throes of their demise, bargaining.

"Y-You're back too...huh? Listen I-...We didn't...come here for you, I was going to rob this place and-...I...don't want any trouble..."

That's what Pig was waiting for, to hear this masked burglar's voice. His posture straightened, that aura of palpable malice fading like a dying flame. There was no mistaking it, no chance of this being an imposter of some sort. No, this was indeed the same masked character that the Pig has met before.

"..."

The malicious flame flared up once more like gasoline had been poured on Pig's burning blood lust. Within the span of a single second, Pig closed the distance between himself and Cluck with a cacophonous of blood soaked and booming footsteps. Almost gently, Pig grabbed Cluck by his jacket and lifted him up off the ground with the ease of grabbing a pebble of the floor. Very slowly, the masked monster pulled him closer, until Cluck couldn't help but gaze into Pig's impossibly dark, masked eyes.

"..."

The Pig smelled the chicken, as if it was his own twisted way of declaring that he could quite literally sense the thief's fear. A silence started stewing in the kitchen once more, with the Pig now holding Cluck up in his statuesque stoicism, with only the faint ambience of muffled breathing fading in and out. The chicken either realized or not, but the murderer was contemplating what to do with this former "associate" of his. His life weighing on the demented thoughts of this monster bound in human form.

Before Pig could "make up his mind", red and blue lights started flashing through the diner's bloodstained windows...

Loading Video...

Pig's head slowly turned to the oval window of the kitchen's door, seeing a county police cruiser had just pulled up, with the deputies already drawing their weapons as soon as they exited the vehicle. Why? Because he dialed 911 WHILE committing his massacre, and Pig hated cops. Like a machine booting back up, the butcher dropped his potential prey without breaking his gaze on the lights. Still having a vice grip on Cluck's collar, he dragged him through the doors and over to the front counter.

"This is the Farmington Valley Sheriff's Office! Come out with your hands laced behind your head, you sick funk! One of the two deputies barked over their cruiser's megaphone, each of them with their weapons trained on the entrance.

Pig slammed his fist down on the counter, no doubt grabbing Cluck's attention, then sternly pointed out to the cops waiting outside. After holding his finger in the air for a moment, he harshly thumbed his own chest, then gestured with a circle. If Cluck could decipher the mute's signals, the Pig was telling the Chicken to go out there and surrender, while he would double back.

"..."

The death dealer pulled Cluck closer to glare another hole through his skull, before finally throwing him over the counter so he could properly surrender.

Why exactly the Pig decided to do this was a total mystery, but it certainly seemed like some sort of test.

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Thief

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@a_killer:

The pig approached the chicken, and he did so with each booming step filling the chicken with dread. While confident in his abilities to escape the clutches of the butcher, he still remained uncertain of the pig's intent, the benefit of a mask that covered your whole head that for once, Cluck was now the victim of.

Even as the pig's massive hand reached out, and grabbed the chicken by his collar, he did not flee. This being could kill anyone in any manner he pleased, but it would be extremely hard even for him to kill the chicken using the opened collar of his jacket. For the time being, Cluck, albeit hesitant; let himself be lifted off of the ground into the killer's bloodied clutches. Despite his best efforts, avoiding eye contact with the consistently murderous stare the pig's mask had, there was little choice in the matter. With his head pulled forwards mere inches from the pigs, their eyes finally met. Two masks obscuring the true faces of those within, giving each other only two eyes, as black as the void to meet each other with.

What felt like minutes could have very well been seconds. But it felt like eternity to the thief, trapped in the grip of a man who had just murdered nearly half a dozen. Cluck prepared himself for an immediate escape the moment he felt as if his luck had run out with the pig; however, the pig had decided to do something unexpected. Rather than snap the chicken's neck, the pig had begun to lean forwards until his snout nearly touched the chicken's mask before he took an abrupt...sniff.

Cluck's body wretched with fear. A true, rational fear. With only one scent, it felt as if the pig had discovered everything about the chicken, bubbling his insecurities and fears right to the skin for the butcher to harvest. Anxiety had flooded his senses. The chicken would have fled from his deathly cold grip right then and there, had he not frozen in place like a deer in headlights. Like a chicken in a slaughterhouse.

It was only the sound of a police siren, that for once the chicken was immediately relieved by. The pig finally had pushed the chicken away as his leathery mask turned into the direction of the swinging doors. Through the concession window, the pig's gruesome and twisted mask was illuminated with a display of blues and reds. The thought crossed Cluck's mind that perhaps the pig had made a mistake, and the chicken had stalled him just long enough for the police to arrive. If that was the case, it may have been time to flee, but for whatever reason- it wasn't.

Instead of flattening the chicken's head into the wall, the behemoth had instead lowered the thief down onto his feet before pulling, or rather, yankinghim through the doors like one would yank the leash of a disobedient dog. Cluck stumbled into the dining room, his eyes scanning the windows; now a constant rotation of colors. His eyes settled on the...one police car...his head tilting in a confused response. He spotted two shiny weapons, aimed right at the entrance. If only he could...- Suddenly his train of thought was interrupted with the sound the pig's fist cracking the counter it had slammed upon. Admittedly, he flinched pretty badly at the noise, whipping his head towards the sound and gazing upon the monstrosity. It was...trying to convey something to the chicken...planning, was at least something the chicken understood better than most.

Judging by the movements the pig portrayed for the chicken's understanding, Cluck would act as bait while the murderer went out the back, after all, what's one killer in an animal mask from another? Immediately one flaw was apparent, trusting that the pig wouldn't just use the distraction to sneak off. But on the other hand, the chicken still stood a better chance alone against the police outside than any he'd have facing down the pig. With the giant's inherent muteness, it seemed as if there was little negotiation in the matter, especially given the look the chicken received before he was promptly tossed over the counter to stumble towards the door.

Giving only a brief glance to the swine behind his shoulder, the chicken began his walk forwards to the entrance; slicking back the unmoving, rubber feathers of his mask while he made his way for the doors. The thief's hand lowered to his belt while his hand rested on the handle of one of the doors. With a clatter, his revolver slid across the slick and bloodied floor while the chicken shoved open the doors, taking a pace outside. Only to meet the contrast to a mute pig, rather than a bleak silence he was met with screams projecting from a megaphone clutched in shaky hands; a quite loud pig.

"SHOW ME YOUR HANDS! SHOW ME YOUR HANDS AND LAY DOWN! SHOW ME YOURMOTHERFhiCKING HANDS AND LAY DOWN NOW!"

Cluck winced at the sound, though, he did in fact obey with the demand. With a quick movement, he reached for the skies, though stayed upright, and as talkative as ever. "Good...evening, gentlemen! Welcome to uh..."The chicken's head cranked upwards, gazing upon the blinding neon sign overtop of his head before returning his attention to the armed deputies. "Butchmann Family Diner! Might I ask you not to swear? This is a family place y'know!?"Murmured the Chicken to the officers, while his head gestured to the bloodied road kill laying mangled on the sidewalk. "In fact, we just put somebody on the stove, so why dontcha come in and take a load off, Mr. and Mrs. deputy!?

Really nothing like taunting the police to unwind from insurmountable fear.

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A_Killer

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"In fact, we just put somebody on the stove, so why dontcha come in and take a load off, Mr. and Mrs. deputy!?

The deputies looked at each other in disturbed confusion while one reached for his cuffs. "Did- Did he just say somebody?"The shotgun totting officer mumbled, putting his focus back on the chicken masked crook.

*THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP*

Gigantic footsteps quaked behind the duo of peacekeepers, with only one of them turning around in time to see what could be producing such locomotive movement. Frantic strobes of Pig's blurred and massive movements were illuminated by the red and blue lights of their cruiser, having closed the distance between the two with a disturbingly inhuman speed.

With a cleaver still in hand, Pig cranked his arm back without breaking stride. "WOAH! WOAH-!" The deputy screamed, just before the cleaver cleared through his neck effortlessly, chopping his head off in one swift motion.

The remaining deputy turned around just as his partner's head went rolling onto the pavement, now face to face with the person who was responsible. "Jesus funking Christ!" The man yelled out, fumbling to bring his shotgun away from Cluck and in aim of Pig. Like snatching a toy from a toddler, Pig swiped the shotgun out of the deputies hands, using his other free hand to harshly punch the man in the gut.

The blow was powerful enough that it forced the deputy to empty his stomach all over the ground, dropping to his knees in recoiled pain. Without skipping a beat, Pig grabbed the deputy by his shaggy hair, craning his head back as far as it would allow without breaking his neck. Then, finally, Pig glared over at the still kneeling Cluck, not breaking eye contact for the rest of this display.

"..."

Pig casually tossed the shotgun in the air, catching it so he'd have a better grip on the center. After raising it up a bit for momentum, he shoved most of the weapon down the deputy's throat. A loud crunch of crushed organs erupted out of the victim's mouth, along with a small fountain of gore that splashed onto the pavement. It was only after a few body spasms later when the poor soul collapsed to the ground, the shotgun clattering at the same time as his head.

The masked mass murder knelt down beside his work, reaching into the victim's pocket until he pulled out his wallet. Then, he'd walk over to his other victim and do the same, retrieving their wallet while also acquiring their police radio and car keys from their belt.

Now standing as tall as ever, Pig tossed Cluck the two wallets so he could comb them for cash, a reward for his efforts.

While the sneak thief was busy with that, Pig walked over to the back of the cruiser and unlocked it with the deputy's keys. Upon opening the trunk, Pig examined it's contents with what almost seemed like silent approval. The cruiser was carrying a spare Spas-12 shotgun, riot model. Along with it was a small duffel filled with shells and two spare deputy uniforms. All ingredients that would make this vacation of his that much more interesting...

Loading everything up in the duffel bag, Pig slammed the trunk back down, chucking the police radio into Cluck's car through the open passenger window. The mountainous killer was now at Cluck's trunk, popping it open to stuff the procured goods inside...

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Thief

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It took only a moment after the deputies exchanged a look of confusion before the fire sparked. The chicken receiving a reminder of why he had feared the pig so. Panic in it's purest form erupted at the police cruiser, a panic only obtainable moments before encountering death. Cluck recognized it immediately in the voice of the officers, having dispensed the same panic a multitude of times before. Yet, not in this manner. It was hard to describe the manner in which the Pig dispensed his victims. Those who had perished at the hands of the chicken were two kinds of people; those that saw it coming, and those that did not. Yet it was not so simple for the death that the Pig brought.

The Pig was not a warrior, nor an assassin. He was not one for stabbing in the back, nor did he attack head on. It was a strange conjecture that the killer manifested his killings in. There was no glory sought in the methods in which he killed, no showing off, not a movement wasted in theatrics. One would assume that if this is how the pig chose to dispose of those he opposed, a simple snap of the neck from behind the back would be the most efficient manner. However the pig did not operate in this manner.

He sought to see the fear in his prey's eyes before they died. The final recognition in their spirit that death had found them, and it was an inevitable conclusion. Just as he proved with these very deputies that now faced a death methodical enough to rival that of a machine. The pig had insisted on the most brutal methods possible to dispatch his victims, not because it was efficient or a tactical decision, but simply because- it was something he enjoyed.

It was a strange manner in which he killed, one that Cluck could not replicate. Truly, the pig was an artist in the craft of murder.

The display was over before Cluck had realized it, his eyes settling on the carcass of the deputy, face down on the pavement, much like the roadkill that lay only feet from him. In a way, there was an irony to the sight, two creatures, different in every way, but having died all the same. Two objects had been thrown against the chicken's chest, startling him as he frantically grabbed at the both of them, quickly looking down at the paraphernalia. Two wallets having belonged to the officers given to him by...the pig?

Cluck's head tilted upwards, gazing ahead. For whatever reason, the monstrosity had given him the wallets, instead having gone to loot through the back of the patrol car. While Cluck was rather interested to see what was in there for himself, it seemed rather safer to take what was given to him rather than gamble for more. The chicken's attention reverted to the wallets, opening them and removing the credit cards before giving them a toss over his shoulder. Afterwards, pocketing the brand spanking new wallets, cash, coupons and all before looking back to the pig again. Who seemed to now be going through the chicken's trunk...

In brief moments Cluck made his way over towards his station wagon, gazing into the back of it. A payload of loot filled the trunk nearly up to the ceiling and composed of severely varying quality. Old shoes sat alongside safety deposit boxes, cups of spare change were nestled snug against buckets of stolen electronics, even a dead rat some sicko had spray painted chrome rested on top of a box of shimmering jewelry. The chicken kept a watchful eye on the hands of the pig, a clear worry that this murderer would attempt to swipe some of the junk from his pile. For whatever reason, the pig was actually adding more to the loot. An entire bag full, something Cluck had no qualms over, yet it was still suspicious. Up until that point the butcher seemed iffy about even leaving the chicken breathe, but now at the very least, he seemed tolerated. The chicken's head couldn't help but tilt with confusion in his direction with a clear concern in his body manner.

"What's this about anyway? Are you givin' me stuff to be nice! Cause no offense to you or nothin' but you don't seem super nice to begin with anyhow! UNLESS you wanna HELP me steal or somethin!? Is that what you're doing? One oink yes, two oinks no!"

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A_Killer

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Pig didn't even glance at all of the stolen goods inside of the station wagon, far more concerned with making sure that his duffel bag was secured. Cluck started rambling on while he did so, asking too many questions. Finally, after one too many words from the chicken, Pig slammed his fist down on the roof of the car, crumpling around his fist on impact.

No Caption Provided

"..." The killer towered over Cluck, leaning down to get in his masked face once more. It was times like this where he wished he could articulate just how badly he wanted to pop someone's head off, but alas, cursed by his own muteness. Instead, Pig slowly reached into his denim jacket and pulled out... A postcard.

With a rough shove, he slapped it against Cluck's chest, knowing he would take hold of it. On the blood stained card was a lovely print for Connecticut, to which Pig pointed at the highway sign just down the road. Farmington was 171 miles away, the Pig silently explaining that's his destination... That was their destination. To further signify his purpose for going to this cozy antique town, Pig slammed his fist into his other open palm and violently cracked his knuckles. The universal gesture of violence and beatings.

Before Cluck could look back up at the Pig, the towering figure was already swinging the driver side door open, fitting this massive frame inside the tight cab. The vehicle lowered a significant amount upon sitting down, adjusting his mirror to see if Cluck was going to get in or not.

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Red_Jay

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#70  Edited By Red_Jay

Some Random CafeX Downtown Farmington

“Hmmm, motion sensors; check, lead trip wires; check. Heat senso- wait, why do we ne- wait, no never mind. Check.” Will checked off his mental list, walking down the busy sidewalk. He brushed past a few people here, bumping into others there which outright disrupted his train of thought. After Will’s short tag-along with the Dark Angel of Contraband, he was left with a small list but a larger responsibility.

As he walked with thoughts that weren’t even his, the LeBeau continued to walk down the crowded sidewalk, struggling to keep his straight path. Now given with two responsibilities that he mustn’t omit, Will’s finally learns the meaning of “responsibility.” A word he wasn’t very familiar with at the time.

Though before he knew it, Will arrived at his walkway destination. It wasn’t an undercover black market shop, nor was it a shady alleyway where people presumably dealt. No. It was nothing more than a lowly cafe located in the midst of lower downtown, Farmington.

With a short sigh of relief, Will steps into the cafe with an attempt to look as unsuspicious as possible. “Ya’ can sit anywhere hun” The waitress spoke, gesturing to the lot of open tables. The cafe wasn’t busy nor was it empty, it was just moderate. Given the opportunity to choose a table of his liking, WIll slides over to a free booth, peering out of the side window and out to the busy streets, of Farmington Connecticut.

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Thief

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#71  Edited By Thief

@a_killer:

The behemoth's fist collided with Cluck's roof, harder than any stone could have indented it. Metal creased and curled around the killer's knuckles, the chicken jumping with shock and quickly looking back at the towering masked man. Both of the thief's gloved hands rested on his hips while the pig had leaned down, to get in the chicken's face, almost as if he was going to scream; but of course, that wasn't the case. Instead Cluck was the one that raised his voice, in almost a scolding tone. "Hey! That car has enough dents without you and your sausagey fingers smash-"He was unable to finish his complaints, the same sausage fingers of the pig abruptly shoving against Cluck's chest, stopping his heart for the briefest as moments; the fear that ached in his mind having anticipated a fist through the chest cavity.

Rather than a lethal injury, the chicken instead received a slip of paper that his hands soon grasped onto instinctively. A slight part of his mind was insulted that the pig had nonverbally called him out on his predictable, yet the greater half still remained grateful that the killer had not tried to murder the thief yet. With a mask blank of expression, the chicken looked towards the pig once more before gazing down to the post card he had received. Connecticut, and basing his conclusion off of the sign that the pig's massive arm then gestured towards, they were headed to Farmington.

It was hard to admit, but this pig was beginning to grow on the chicken. Mostly from the loot he had freely shared with him thus far, but still. When the Piggy had made his way around the chicken, climbing into the driver's seat of the car, he offered a glance back towards the thief, perhaps a quiet invitation to accompany him. Maybe Cluck's charms had worked on the pig already.

Some might assume that getting into a vehicle with a known serial murderer could be a poor life decision in the grand scope of things, but Cluck did not recognize this. In fact, poor life decision may as well have been his middle name at that point; as the chicken quickly closed the trunk before skipping around the opposite side of the car and clamoring through the passenger window. Hitting the floor underneath of the glove box before managing to squirm and contort himself back onto the seat. Adjusting the mask on his head, Cluck quickly looked over to the mass murderer while reaching for the seat belt over his shoulder.

"Oh man! Is this a road trip? Road trips RULE! LET'S PUT ON SOME TUNES FOR ROAD LUCK!"

Without missing a beat, Cluck tossed a golden chain hanging in front of the tape deck over his shoulder, grabbing a mustard stained tape off of the center console and shoving it into place. All the while a free hand did it's best to crank the speakers as high as they could go.

With the one of the most obnoxious 80's tunes Cluck could find in his vast collection blaring through the speakers, Cluck then slammed a palm onto the already fractured dash board with a mad chuckle beneath his oversized mask.

"CONNECTICUT, FARMINGTON! HERE WE COME! FLOOR IT, PIG DADDY!"

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Benny_Bunny

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#72  Edited By Benny_Bunny

Will's ears would suddenly be harassed by the sound of loud slurping and obnoxious chewing. The noise was coming from the booth across from the teen rebel, more specifically from a peculiar looking man. While his features were relatively bland, a buzz cut and a black eye notwithstanding, his clothes were certainly odd. His jacket was a puffy white bomber, something straight from the eighties. Match that with his worn-on Atari shirt, and he looked like he just stepped out of that decade moments ago.

The man's shifty brown eyes darted over at Will, pointing at him with his syrup stained fork. "Mmm! You have got to try their waffles! I swear to god it has crack baked inside of each one!" The stranger exclaimed with a mouth half full, giving the kid a friendly smirk before stabbing at his plate once more.

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deactivated-5e0fac097137a

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Benny_Bunny

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Red_Jay

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#75  Edited By Red_Jay
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LamarTheSlayer

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Red_Jay

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#77  Edited By Red_Jay

With a confused gasp, Will looks from the dirtied window to what seemed to be a deranged time traveler. What gave Will the time-traveling assumptions of the man came from his lack of modern-day clothing and more of a ’90s like attire. For a long second, Will sat there confused as he glared at the man with nothing but utter awkwardness plastered over his face.

As the odd stranger spoke, a small grin stretched across Will’s face. “No I haven’t actually, why do you say that?” The teen replied back to the man as if it were a normal conversation before two normal people, which it wasn’t in the sligtest.

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The stranger could only chortle at the teen's response, licking his fingers clean of syrup. "What? You've never heard that expression before? "So good, it's like crack"?" The man shook his head, extending his hand across the aisle in an offer to introduce himself. "The name's- Oop, sorry, that's my syrup hand." He chuckled and held out his other clean hand. "The name's Benny, by the way. I'm new in town."

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Looking down to scratch the back of his head, Will somewhat scoffs at Benny’s reply to Will’s, “No I have, I was just asking why you thought that” He lifted his head, revealing a small smirk at buzz-cut. Will’s eyes followed Benny’s hands closely, in case the stranger wanted to do anything he’d regret sooner or later. “Hey Benny, Will Le- Todd, William Todd” Will shook Benny’s clean hand, glaring at him with a sharpened gaze.

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Benny_Bunny

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Benny met his glare with a snarky smirk, firmly shaking the kid's hand. "Well, Will Le-Todd William Todd, you mind if I sit with you?" The 80's relic picked up his plate before Will could even answer, sitting himself down across from the rebel. He barely sat down before scarfing down the rest of his meal, chasing it down with a large gulp of coffee.

"Mm, thanks." Benny smiled while chewing the what remained of the food in his mouth. The "Buzz-cut" peered out the window, looking at the hustle and bustle of this country town. "Yeesh. No offense, Will? But your town is some seriously boring beans." His beady eyes focused on their reflections, noticing the brown envelope just barely sticking out of Will's jacket.

"Might want to cover that up better, kid. I'd recommend a bigger coat" Benny grinned, ever subtly looking back at him before looking back out the window.

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Red_Jay

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#81  Edited By Red_Jay

With a downward gaze, Will shook his head at the strange man, “No- it’s just, Will Todd. And Su-” Though before Will could finish his sentence, it seemed to the man went for it anyways. ‘tt’okay then.” His uncomfortability of the conversation grew within, though Will tried his best to hide it externally.

“Yeah, it’s not that great. But hey, at least it’s safe. Well- safe-er. Then most cities.” He lightly cleared his throat, which was led up by Will taking a large sip of his orange juice. “When exactly did-”

Will’s spoken words trailed off by the light feeling of the envelope slipping out of his pocket, Sh!t, What this? Oh it’s nothing, no need for that.” Will attempted to con Buzz-Cut, though by the visible cringe Will displayed, it was obvious that he was hiding something.

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Ozzy_ManuelDiaz

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#82  Edited By Ozzy_ManuelDiaz

Ozzy would sit quietly at a table in which he had sat many of times. He liked the view. It wasn't of any woman. It wasn't due to the excitement. What he liked was that it had a certain peace. He would find a way to slip back to the corner restaurant just to be alone.

Alone from the verbal bullying of Ven...

Alone from the demanding ways of Juno...

Alone from the apathetic nature of Will...

Alone from communication gaps between Reed...

There were many others and every once in awhile, Ozzy found himself once again being alone from all the craziness, from all his friends, and from all the hotties that crossed his path. He knew being alone though would never satisfy him and so he would do something he would never do in front of the harsh comments of Ven, the disapproving attitude of Juno, the judging glare of Will or the lack of understanding from Reed.

He gazed at his phone, building the courage he needed and finally installed the app he so desperately wished to hide from everyone. He took a picture of himself as he knew it was part of the process

Name: Ozzy Diaz

Age: 17

...

Description: Im just looking for someone to talk to and listen. No more drama

He would hit done, taking out his memory card and installing an alternate one - for he was not ready to share this with anyone yet. If anything came from it then it would have been great. If nothing came from it then it was worth the try, for Ozzy would never admit it, but he was looking for something in someone that he had not found yet.

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CutthroatBitch

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#83  Edited By CutthroatBitch

The young immortal rode through the parking lot on her Riverside 920. Concentration had detached her from the cars and people around her. She sniffed at the air. It was a cold trail. However many times he'd been there, it'd been a long time since his last visit. No sign of the girl or the van either.

No Caption Provided

But even if Charlemagne's son no longer inhabited Farmington (maybe he'd gone into hiding?) he'd no doubt grown roots, just based on how often he'd appeared on traffic and on-site cameras in the sleepy town.

Despite her resources and capabilities she had almost nothing to go off of. The problem, she figured, wasn't so much flushing him out as it was doing so "in the right way." On his good side. Just the two of them, without attention from more assassins after the price Quintus had put on his head.

Put simply, there was no quick fix for this. Nastya would have to grow some roots herself. The boy, someone he knew, or other clues leading back to him, would present themselves in time. Reaching into her backpack, she began the slow and arduous process of passing copies of hand-drawn flyers around town herself. No leads, though she received numerous compliments on her skill with a pencil, and much more sympathy once the humans were no longer facing a virtual giantess and she'd come up with a story. Parents deceased, her older brother William had been her primary care provider for several years now but he'd recently gone missing.

Hours passed and she hit a local news station. Provided one of her flyers for circulation in papers, on television, and the Internet, along with information about where to find her in the meantime.

An older woman named Esther had seen fit to take her in while she searched. Anastasia thanked her and accepted, making a note to leave a generous tip under the pillow when she left. At night she stayed in the room that'd belonged to Esther's daughter. There she spent the majority of her time, taking stock of the situation and mapping various conditional probabilities and determining courses of action for the transfinite possibilities that lay before her.

Her ads ran every day in the papers, and every day she roamed the town in hopes of catching the familiar scent. Undeterred by cold or precipitation, the Numeromancer proceeded in a methodical sweep over the city. One way or another it was only a matter of time, her secondary mutation guaranteed that. But this couldn't last long. Sooner or later others would catch the scent emanating from the small town, and that would put Esther in danger.

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William_LeBeau

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#84  Edited By William_LeBeau

@cutthroatbitch:

𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫

There wasn't a doubt in his mind, whatever thiswas, it felt like a calling to cull. He couldn't shake the sense, nor could he ignore it. Katsuro? No, it couldn't be. Time only told when he would arise, and this wasn't it. This was something else, something much less aggressive than a stray shuriken. Over and over again, his eyes glid through this exact portrait of himself he had managed to obtain on the outskirts of Farmington. Though it wasn't the calling that piqued his paranoia, it was who had started this great hunt.

With the flyers came an address, one of which belonged to a woman named Esther, though this Esther seemed much too raveled in age to fit the description of the entire facade. A lone sister in a trumpeting attempt in finding her lost brother. It, in fact, drew a much larger grin across his face than intended. But the question still sat, was he going to risk it all for this mysterious figure? That, over all, sat on his mind.

His mind plucked specific memories; the mountain, the school, the city - his mind raced through different points of time, various people and their instincts yet he couldn't find a figure who had fit the descriptions the media and multiple broadcasts had so generously offered, except for one. The girl on the mountain, along with Katsuro and Quintus. Though she was different than the two, she didn't try killing William on that mountain. Yes, maybe she would've if she got the chance. But, at the same time, so did he.

Maybe there was mutual sense between the two, from what he'd seen, this approach seemed much too passive if she was going for his head. Minutes upon unintended hours, he finally came to mind. What could go wrong if he ended up at her doorstep? Maybe a lot of things, maybe nothing. It was times like this where Will wished he kept his secrecy.

𝔈𝔰𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯'𝔰 ℜ𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢

No Caption Provided

Was she home? Maybe, hopefully not. If he wanted to unveil the reason for this hunt, he'd do so treading lightly. And that started with the woman who decided to take Nastya in, Esther. If he was lucky, she would come back home to see her "brother" having tea with her caretaker.

For a quick second William hesitated, until then, he eventually stepped out of his steel black wrangler who's canvass absorbed all the sunlight that reflected upon it. His walk casual and his mindset clear, Will strode up to Esther's patio rapping the white-wooden door lightly. If Nastya was out of continuing her search in the city, Will would continue his at her home. Which all started with Esther.

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@william_lebeau:

After something of a delay, there came a sound from the other side of several locks being unlatched, and the door creaked open. "Yes, hel–"

No Caption Provided

Cutting herself off, Esther stood and regarded the familiar-looking stranger with a blank, "processing" stare as though adding some equation or piecing together a jigsaw puzzle in his face.

Soon enough realization dawned and her face lit up with understanding. "Oh! One moment please," she said, disappearing behind the door again and returning, this time with a white sheet held closely before her. For a full twenty seconds she compared the boy in front of her with the image his sister had drawn before, satisfied, she pulled the door completely open and stepped aside, waving an arm as to welcome him into the foyer. "William, please come in! Ana will be so happy to see you. Would you like something to drink while we wait for her return?"

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William_LeBeau

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#86  Edited By William_LeBeau

@cutthroatbitch:

'Can't be too safe huh?' William slightly, grinned, at the click-clack of Esther's series of locks. His mind counted, one, to another, the other till the fourth lock? No, the fifth. Yet last was a bit more subtle than the previous four. His face fell grim, yet somewhat presentable. His eyes lit like a chandelier at the sight of Esther as they slightly narrowed downwards, adjusting to the elderly woman's height.

"Y-yes, I am here-," his voice submitted into a tired monotone, yet cutoff the second Esther was. He froze, eyeing the woman as both eyelids slightly rose from their fatigued state. "Ma'am, are you alrigh-" The 't' lost itself in the air, as Esther was already back into her house. Soon enough, Esther managed herself back towards Will with an image alike to the other several dozen within Farmington.

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With what felt like a greeting from a familiar relative, Esther's face lit up like a chandelier in an afternoon Gala. "Thank you, ma'am. Looking forward to seeing her again, I haven't seen her in days." He stepped into the quant home with a smile. "If you could, tea's fine," forthwith his smile returned to Esther. "Lovely home you have here, I appreciate you taking Ana in. Parents haven't been around much so I'm glad to see you gave her that chance. Under circumstances, like.. these."

His eyes followed each crevice of the house, admiring her eye for aesthetics and grand paintings. "I trust she hasn't been too much to handle," he softly chuckled continuing gazing amongst her interior. Now we wait.

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CutthroatBitch

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@william_lebeau:

"That'll do," said Esther with a nod, and she'd already set off for the kitchen. Almost as soon as she started, however, she stopped at the mention of their parents. Turning, she fixed him with a glare as though he'd just said something grotesque and she'd decided it was no longer such a lovely thing to see him after all.

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Looking him up and down, she forced a half-hearted smile back onto her face, but in such a way that suggested unashamedly that it was only a formality and she disapproved. Shaking her head slightly as she turned. She ran water through a coffeemaker to heat and steep in a pot of dried hibiscus flowers, and set a hefty mug on the kitchen table alongside a jar of honey and a pot of sugar.

"'Circumstances like these' indeed. No, Ana has been an angel. And quite diligent about finding you. She takes almost no time for herself even while she's here. I've helped as I'm able but I simply don't have the energy to keep up, nor the ability to force her to rest as she should. I hope yours is a valid excuse for leaving her alone like that," she added reproachfully.

"Steep as long as you wish. Milk will be in the fridge if you'd like. I have almond and goat."

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Ozzy_ManuelDiaz

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@william_lebeau: @cutthroatbitch:all im saying is that I probably spend the most time in Farmington as a character than anyone. If stuff starts getting destroyed there will be reckoning, lol.

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Ozzy_ManuelDiaz

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William_LeBeau

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@cutthroatbitch:

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It all began to crack, the story, his appearance, his apparent ability to lose someone in the snap of a finger. Maybe it wasn't such an odd thing to feel bad at a time like this. The slightest frown, sniffle would've helped his case. So he let himself fall into that hole. "I-I wish there was a better way to say it," he upheld a shaky yet light tone, "Ana's been by my side for as long as either one of us could remember, so to lose her like I did, I understand that you would think less of me."

His fist pressed up against his mouth, supporting what was so heavily weighed down by the knowledge of none other, "W-we were in West Hartford, y'know, walking 'round the town. One second, she was right there," he used his right hand to gesture towards the left of him. "Then the other, she was gone." His face fell red, nay a tear though a regretting sigh William fixed his gaze off the ground and to Esther who he had so gratefully cherished for taking Ana in.

"You have to believe me when I say I tried," his head tilted slightly like a pouty dog, "Bristol, I went to Bristol trying to find her." he scoffed, pulling a folded piece of printer paper that shared the semblance to the ones Ana drew. Yet, his was less detailed though at least presentable to the eye of an artist. It was an image of Ana. "Believe me, I tried looking for her. I spent days in Bristol, Newington. If only I knew she was here, in Farmington, all along." He held the paper out towards Esther, digging his face into his palm in full-regret.

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@william_lebeau:

Whether for wishful thinking or William's legitimate skill at selling his story, it didn't take much for Esther to resolve the inner conflict on her side. Even if not ideal, it all made a certain kind of sense. As he recounted his tale, her entire manner warmed so fast it might've been scarcely believable she'd just been eyeing Will with kitchen knives in her eyes just moments before.

"Oh, sweetheart..."

"Yeah, if only," Anastasia echoed suddenly from the doorway. On one side of him Esther seemed heartened to have both siblings reunited, while on the other Ana looked restless and exasperated, albeit with a shadow of immense relief and a barely noticeable hint of manic excitement. "You could've called. What, you lost your cell phone too? You didn't answer any of my calls."

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William_LeBeau

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@cutthroatbitch:

There she was. 'Ana,' or who he had remembered more fondly, the Woman on the Mountain. She appeared younger than she did weeks ago, yet it was the few key features that automatically assured him it was actually her he had been facing. The raven hair that reflected off sunlight the way the roof of his wrangler did, her lime-like eyes accented with a touch of blue - yet on the Adirondack's, there was no time to observe such things like eye color, and most remarkably her lean build. It seemed somewhat, exact.

Torpor plagued her entire appearance, eyes hung low, voice as well. "Oh Ana," his mouth from each corner stretched into an embracing smile, "I'm so sorry." He jolted from where he sat, rushing himself to Ana's side. "I tried, I got caught in a crowd in Bristol, some type of parade. And I, accidentally dropped my phone and it got-" he dug into his left pocket, pulling out a mere shattered jittered iPhone, "crushed."

"I'm so sorry , Ana. I'm just glad you're safe." He even looked at the elderly woman for a moment, returning her a grateful nod.

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CutthroatBitch

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Her oceanic eyes glimmered and a patient smile etched itself across her face as she read the look of recognition slowly dawning on William's. And his acting...One learned in the art of deception would've had him figured out, but she had to give him credit. He was more than good enough to fool Esther, and judging by the phone he'd obviously thought through at least the first line of holes one would think to poke in the mutually improvised story (which he'd surprisingly decided to go with, she wondered why).

Guess it runs in his blood. Nastya had never met him but history would always echo the tales of his bloodline. Charlemagne alone had been able to secure the full passage and enforcement of a metahuman registration act. He wasn't the only factor, but he alone knew exactly how to sell himself in a role that appealed to the American public. Will, too, seemed to be a natural. That made him, like his father, a dangerous variable.

She rolled her eyes, though still grinning. "Well, my phone was fine. You could have borrowed one and called me, you know I'm good about answering." Turning to her temporary caretaker, "If you'll excuse us for a little while," and to Will, "Walk with me, hermano?"

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William_LeBeau

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This is going to be an, awkward, conversation.

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William_LeBeau

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@cutthroatbitch:

It was that point in time when he wondered, what really was going on here? initially, his mind suggested that it was no more than a piqued interest. Though now everything that seemed clear then alluded to something much more peculiar. Had he known they shared the same ("hey, I wonder why he/I is going with the story") thought, he would've felt much more at ease. Instead, he was but a crow in a henhouse.

"Oh, I tried. Or would've if folks from Bristol weren't so uptight, egoísta." His broad shoulders shrugged, "payphones were poached too, missing parts. What people do to make a quick buck off of eBay," he sighed once again this time more disappointed than anything. "Sure," a slight nod weighed his mind. His heel turned towards the front door, opening it nay a thought of permission.

"Thank you again, Esther. You truly are an angel."

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CutthroatBitch

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@william_lebeau:

The old woman gave a polite nod, still barely bothering to hide her disapproval at the young man, yet regarded his sister as sweetly as ever. Nastya turned and led the way out, calling out behind her, "Hasta luego, Esther. I'll be back in time for dinner. And I'll have his tea even if he's not, so don't throw it away please."

She strode to the edge of the walkway and made a sharp left turn on the sidewalk, silently mouthing the names of numbers with every step. Eventually she turned to him and said "I'm glad you came. Much longer and I would've had to take more drastic measures to locate you. But I understand you need to be cautious and I appreciate you meeting me in such uncertain conditions. So...I saw your face, the moment it set in. How did you recognize I was me?"

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William_LeBeau

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#99  Edited By William_LeBeau

@cutthroatbitch:

But a moment to waste, William compacted his farewells into a simple nod towards Esther as they both proceeded to the sidewalk that stretched out yards beyond. "I'm curious more than anything, I think," a simple smirk presented itself, "it's not every day someone goes around town trying to look for me." Residents of the quaint neighborhood glared at William, their tongues twisting the mutual thought everyone shared: "isn't that the kid on the news?"

"Out of all the people I've come by in the past, you were the only one I didn't, actually, know that didn't seek the price that's on my head. And these past weeks have been uneventful, except for some things, especially New York. But then I wasn't fully sure until I saw the story "Lone girl helplessly hunts for her missing brother". Your face is all over the news y'know" he scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets, "you aren't fully as I remember the last time I saw you, but I made the connection."

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CutthroatBitch

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@william_lebeau:

"Ah, gotta be the eyes, hm? Probably not many like them in the world," she said, turning slightly so that he might notice their faint ethereal glow. "I'm very proud of them, so I can't always bring myself to change them.

"But the point of us meeting is not to dote over my eyes. Although you may feel free to do so later." She winked.Her smirk was more predator than charmer although she'd intended the latter. "Speaking of making connections, you understand, of course, that you can't stay here indefinitely, sí? Your face is plastered all over this town, and with a price like the one on your head you and everyone here would be put in danger. It would be smart to at least disappear for a while, give it time to cool off." Turning an earnest gaze on him, with a sigh she added, "I hope you can forgive me. This was the fastest way I could think of to see you in person."