Acknowledging the severity of the situation she dismissed the female, she had been pressing the pencil hard on the table surface her knuckles white until the pencil snapped and splintered. A glimmer of the dream resurfaced.

" I don't know but I know the only other thing he said was You are needed.
" the words sent a cold shiver down her spine

Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, just as she was. She should have been at work...

"although... "
"Maybe you should check out the main place I work, clean i mean... there are a lot of dodgy characters there maybe if I went back it would jog some memories. I mean I think they would be extremely displeased to know your two coppers... especially as its a bar, but i don't know... i honestly don't know this man/ghost or weather he had anything to do with it.."

again she hadn't a clue what she had just said whenever she said anything of any worth, everything got muffled and mixed up so It couldn't be analysed , her head was screaming library but an overwhelming urge to shift the truth a bit came over her. The thought of books were screaming through her head.

"i'm sorry I can't help you anymore my head is such a mess I don't know what I'm saying"

Payge: "I don't like this." Christian noted, Tink having vanished in the interim to investigate outside. "You are needed? And then you woke up? This doesn't feel right to me..." he shook his head, perplexed. "....And you work at a speakeasy. Oh god that just makes my night. Please say it's not Ducatti's...." There's an edge of stress in his voice, and it's not hard to understand why. Fair faced Ducatti is a dangerous man, in spite of what code of honor he lives by, there's an streak of violence in him if prodded. "G-men" have been attempting to shut him down for some time...none of them have succeeded in entirely shutting off his supplies of alcohol.
Tink re-emerged just then, leaning in the doorway, her expression grim, though you can see a fighting spirit awakened in her eyes that would do credit to amazons of legend, like Queen Hypolita, only wrested to submission by Hercules.
"There are ghouls at the hospital. I'm going to go roust some backup. Thats our doctor by the way."
((Since we seem to be down this player we may include a slight intermission for treatment, and just move ahead.))

Harry: "Is it? What did I win? The Shub Niegerath on your Doorstep Lottery? Candygram by Nyarthotep?" John quipped, resting now in a slightly padded chair he's unearthed from somewhere in the room, and gingerly fingering a tender spot. "Wait, I've got it. The aquarium of Deep Ones. Just what I wanted." Although not all of the references may hit home ((At your whim, explanations can be provided also. One is purposefully misspelled.))
He seems at best a bit bitter over his difficulty with the Nightgaunt, though it's not a bad sign that he's well enough to be, frankly, a bit of a bastard about it. The air smells more thickly now of that odd unnerving incense, which seems only to grow more complex with intensity. Now with undertones of ozone, but it could be from the rain. "At least you're picking up the pieces...I think I've lost one of my champions. One of which would be you, incidentally."

Alana: A pair of shoes and the crouching legs they belong to come into focus first, definitely not the ones from the dream, though the positioning is the same. Slightly scuffed high heels on slightly large feet, a little too large to be ideal, attached to very long, leanly powerful legs in expensive stockings, with a glimpse of a flashy garter belt under the high cut skirt. What makes this outfit particularly baffling is that the more you focus, the more ambiguous the figure becomes. Although you can't see anything...below the belt, the persons hips are a bit too narrow to be a woman, but the low cut shirt clearly says otherwise, and a concerned face delicate but so ambiguously gendered as to be the next riddle of the sphinx offers no further help as to weather it's a manish woman, or a womanish man. His, or her eyes are nearly black, though it could be the light, and Asiatic in ancestry, and full of concern as an strong, but delicate hand moves to help you.
"I'm afraid I missed it, sweetie." The person offers. "If I had to guess I'd say you got mugged. These are pretty hard times, some people do hard things. You've got a serious goose egg. How are you feeling?"

"Ow," Alana groaned. "Not too good. I'd say mugged is a good guess, but I'll have to check and see if I'm missing anything... I'm sure this is the stupidest question you've ever been asked, but are you male or female?" Alana was surprised at her own daring. In the ordinary way, she would never dare to ask anyone such a question, no matter how uncomfortable it made her, but here she was, bold-facedly asking such a question. It comes of being around toddlers all the time, she supposed.

Wait, toddlers? Where did that come from? This was perplexing.

Harry cocked her brow as she walked over to where John was sitting. "Why the hell would you be talking about the deep ones?" She asked as she set the first aide kit down and flicked it open. "Only those creepy homeless guys who sit outside the subway stations talk about them...and you don't seem like you're homeless..." She pulled the gauze and medical tape out of the box as well as some disinfectant. "Ok, point to what hurts or whats bleeding and we'll see what we can fix. "

Moore's face looked so tired and intense like he was going to explode, the face of a man that was worried he would never get to the ripe old age of 65 and enjoy his retirement.

Payge unfortunately twigged at the name, and nodded.


"I think Ducatti is the proprietor yes..." her eyes were getting heavy the more she thought about past events the more tired she became and payge had come out with alot of information that night... and she started to feel upset.

"I also find it extremely undignified to be still sitting here in a blanket..." on the verge of crying her voice was wavering a little ..maybe.. the doctor would make it all go away.

Alana This question was met with an warm laugh. "Honey that depends who you ask." Is the enigmatic reply. "I guess you don't know me. I'm XingXing." There's a certain weight to this, one of those nagging senses of familiarity or the sense of something you'd hear about in a gossip chain. "Technically, I'm a hermaphrodite, but it's easier to think of me one way or another. Lets get you inside though and get you some ice for that bump, ok sweetie?"

Harry "Long list..." John grumped again, a flinch crossing his blank canvas face like a curious ripple. "Deep ones are a fact of....life...such as it is. Just because....ow... homeless people talk about them doesn't... make them any less dangerous." He flinched repeatedly, trying to unbutton part of his shirt. Lifting his arm on one side seems to be particularly painful, on the side where he first impacted the door, though the various rents in his clothing from the creatures claws can't be contributing either, though without further investigation it will be difficult to know if it's merely extensive bruising, or a broken bone. "...Are there gloves?" He jerked his chin toward the bag, since it's impossible to follow his eyes.

Payge "Here." Christian offered a hand to you. "We'll take you down to the bathroom and you can change. I'm going to ask you to stay here tonight, but I'll also be here, and we're not going to lock you in. Sound fair?" He's clearly rattled at your words, but still trying to be kind. "You work for a very dangerous man, you know that?" He volunteered. "Also Falkner will be down the hall. You shouldn't be able to smell the photo lab, but he should be able to hear you if you need anything and I'm not able to answer."
In his tone you can heard that 'dangerous man', means 'deadly man', increasing his own level of danger in this.

And please welcome Bechard and Michael James Danforth fresh from the OOC thread.
Michael The water is bitterly cold, black, foul, and disorienting, almost enough to distract from the pain from your ankle as you flounder. What you are doing there, where you were going.... multiple realities seem to be clashing in your head, perhaps because of the cold and the wet, though you remember running. To something? Away from something?
Your head breaks the surface abruptly, granting access to cold air, but air never the less, and a night filled with bright lights and black shadows. Your muscles ache, and you seem to recall vaguely that you're a bit....understandably....late... headed for 'The Clover', to play music for one of the performers.
This memory evokes a spark of something, an attractive but androgynous figure in a black sequined gown with an evocatively high cut up the leg.
A bit unrelated to the situation at hand. Very unhelpful. The current is strong and exhaustion makes it hard to swim, but you think over the sound of the river that you hear a shout, and a splash. Help perhaps? Or something terrible in the water?

(Payges dream)

Payge composed herself took Moore’s Hand and as he led her to the cell she couldn’t help think what a nice a man he was and why she hadn’t met someone like this before.

“That sounds fair Detective and I'm sure i'll be fine but if anything untoward happens I'll call you both” with a nervous smile and pulling her hand away .

When She was safe as safe could be in the cell Payge could finally change into the clothes they had found for her, the skirt fit ok the fabric was a bit itchy so she put the white shirt over her head and walked over to a small sink and mirror that was in the room, examining her face, the bump was dying down in size but bruising out There was a marker pen lying on the floor, she walked towards it and picked it up, twiddling it around in her fingers she started to think…

Was she really a cog in Ducattis wheel, Surely if Ducatti, The faceless man or a being was after her being anywhere in this city was unsafe.

The seal on the tap was slightly loose and the dripping of the water was hitting the base with a ceramic *ting* it was almost hypnotic, musical… so much so that she quite quickly fell asleep.

A few hours passed and she awoke, the lights were off and the tap had stopped dripping, the cell door was wide open getting up payge walked toward the cell door she could smell something rotten, the smell was that vile and putrid she didn’t notice the tentacles creeping slowly towards her ankles. They were cold and wet as they grabbed her legs and arms and pulled her into the darkness she managed a stifled shriek.

Finding herself quite suddenly in the office she had dreamt about earlier, she had been drawing something. A man in a suit and tie attractive dark and Italian … dangerous, leaning across a table his hands resting on a heavy bound leather book. Around a board room table with same faced executives.

The office was messier than before drawings scattered all over the floor and drawings pulled down off the wall as though someone had been looking for something. Someone walked in behind her she heard a gun shot, before being able to turn around the windows in the office shattered all around her. When Payge fell to the floor what she saw horrified her the man from the hotel, the bloodied mess of the man from the hotel room staring down at her gun smoking with a satisfied grin.

It was impossible to stop the trembling, despite the burning he felt deep in his muscles. It was a struggle to think, to recall where he was, how he'd gotten here...A gasp as he slipped under the water, his arms failing him for a moment, then sputtering as he surfaced again. Scratch that, it's a struggle to just to stay afloat. The shout rang out clearly, somehow cutting through the ringing in Michael's ears. It spurred him on; whether friend or foe, a quick end would be prefferable to slowly losing the battle to stay conscious in the freezing water. Several times he found himself veering rapidly off course, his mind wandering, his concentration completely shot. Michael cursed, then tried to travel towards the sounds of the splashing as best he could. He began to sing softly- he remembered reading somewhere that survivors of the Titanic had been found in the dark waters because they had been singing. He was far too weak to yell, but continued to sing the only song he could think of- How High the Moon. But between the chattering of his teeth, the crude sounds were short bursts of nonesensical syllables. I wonder if these is how they discovered scat..., he almost laughed, then apologized quickly, inwardly to Ms. Fitzgerald.

A frown formed on Harry's face as she rummaged through the small first aide kit. "gloves gloves...gloves!" She pulled out a single pair of rubber gloves and handed them over to John. "It's just all rather sudden, to take something I was raised to believe were the stories of the crazed and make it fact..." She muttered as she continued to search through the kit for anything else that could be of use. Though after this evening I don't think I have much of a choice in the matter. "Don't move your arm like that, you might have something broken or at best dislocated."

Harry: "It's rather sudden to wake up and realize you're talking to a man without a face also." He pointed out. "....The gloves, my dear, are for you. I'm bleeding. You don't want to touch it. I assure you, you're allergic." letting his arm fall back gingerly. "... I need help." The last bit was somewhat sulkish, pained and petulant. "My shirt is ruined. How unfortunate...." He paused to continue his struggle with his other arm, loosening his tie. "...Think of it...this way. Everything you have ever woken from nightmare screaming about is real, here, and things that would make your nightmares wake screaming....these are also real." He paused to wait, having trouble with coat and shirt, which needed to be removed in order to access his collage of scratches and bruises.

Payge (Payge will be slightly delayed, she's having a nightmare and will wake shortly. Mayu and I will banter over PM until things catch up. Mayu you can continue you your dream if you have more you want to do, we can debate it over PM, I just want to advance people a little. <3)

Michael: "Hang on!" Your disjointed music seems to have caught the ears of your would be rescuer, and over the sound of the water you can hear the wake of their progress against the river. A strong swimmer, but it is cold water. It's difficult to distinguish where the black water is taking you, and far too easy to imagine there are things in it's icy depths that are not troubled by the cold. Lights from the street make brilliant stars over the water, and only barely outline the man swimming to your rescue, who's arm reaches out to catch you with a sputter, which was probably meant to be a promise of help, before it turned into a mouthful of foul water. "G-Gotcha!" Comes the belated announcement, a hand clutching for your clothing. "J-j-Jeezus!"
Ahead in the black is the vauge outline of a huge bridge, spanning the banks, and somewhere up it might be people, rushing back and forth in a panic or simply staring, mutely, at the grim spectacle. For what few move to try and help, to find ropes or blankets, ten....twenty more only stare.

Michael was trembling violently by the time a blanket found its way around his shoulders. He quickly stripped naked beneath it, his frozen hands making slow work of the many buttons of his vest. Eventually he was inclined to use the swiss army knife he found in a pocket to cut the fabric away. The only items he kept were his shoes. There was no wallet.
After he was dry, warming up happened quickly. And my god does it hurt! Gritting his teeth, he struggled to keep from crying out from the liquid fire spreading through his limbs. He ignored the spectators; he was used to the attention, whether on stage, or simply for the colour of his skin, but he approached his rescuer, nodding his head in meek gratitude.
"Thank you. I don't think I would have made it to shore if I hadn't heard your shouting."

"We can get you a new shirt." Harry said as she pulled on the gloves. "and for the moment I have simply ignored the fact you lack...certain physical features that otherwise would be an issue." She stood up and ackwardly paused, she needed to get the jacket and shirt off but disrobing a stranger was so...weird. Just breathe, ignore the weirdness and just...do something Harry gingerly placed her hands on John's good shoulder and gently tugged on the fabric. "You'll need to slide your arm out so I can just slide the coat off your other arm." She instructed, the smell of the rain outside permeating the room. I wonder if that stupid thing is still outside... She mused to herself.

Emerging Memories Part 1

As his bloodied face looked down on her he swirled into nothing ness and she found herself in a hotel room .The man walked into the room your average looking Joe probably had a family a good olde fashioned sort of guy out to better the world he took off his hat and smiled. Payge glanced his way and playfully beckons him over. Grabbing his tie she gets a faint whiff of body odour and cheap after shave. This repulsed her a little but this man meant well he treated her good not like Ducatti one step out of line moved or spoke in a way he disliked and you felt the back of his hand. That’s why she felt so bad she had to set the poor man up he had brought her flowers that night and this made her felt sick to her stomach. He had stumbled in on some unsavoury business down at the tavern Ducatti had spotted the guy snooping around, he had employed him On the pretext he acted like a normal trustworthy guy so he pulled pints for the men and woman that came in his motive was to find out as much about Ducatti as he could and bring this evil man crashing down to the ground maybe even a public hanging.

Payge met him one night after closing whilst cleaning the tavern he looked tired and stressed there was a little spark between them and they got on really well.

There was always one rule at the tavern we all had to follow
NEVER GO INTO THE WINE CELLAR

this guy was clever really clever (but not that clever) he had kept himself undercover extremely well until there were four five six arrests in a space of a month of the guy arriving. Each time one of Ducatti’s cronies went missing the guy had called in Ill. Twigging that something was amiss he sent one of his men out to find him on “one of those days” on the pretence that he was having a busy night and really couldn’t do with the guy being ill. When his crony got to his house he wasn’t home he asked a round a bit ruffled a few feathers until one of the neighbours let wind that men with suitcases had come round his house all official looking and he would leave the house looking entirely different from the days he worked at the bar.

“All smart and stuff suit tie and even decorated with a few badges weren’t he gene..?” said an old woman confirming with a friend. who wore an apron and glasses that made here eyes look the size of grapefruits.

He told Ducatti and asked his men to keep a close eye on the guy if he slipped up to tell him immediatly

During that time Payge and the Man’s friendship got stronger she often would come into the bar when she wasn’t dotting on Ducatti or working and would sit at the bar to chat and have a good laugh with him, Ducatti was possessive of all his women and felt even more threatened that a trusted servant could be stringing him along as well.

He grabbed him by the shoulder one day and looked him square in the eyes.

“I’m watching you…”

"Oh..." said Alana. "Okay." How weird, she thought, I've never heard of a human being a hermaphrodite. She sighed a little, and made an attempt to stand. Her legs crumpled under her at first, but she finaly mangaged to put her weight on them. Straightening up, she tried to take a step and stumbled, barely stopping herself from falling back to the ground.

Michael Your rescuer, similarly shivering and bundled in blankets , gives you a tooth chattering grin as you approach. A tolerably good looking man, his blond hair is partially glued to his face, but his dark eyes look more alive than some in the city these days. "Hey don't worry about it. I'm just curious to know how you ended up in the drink to begin with." He noted, half joking and with an chilled laugh. "But then you don't sound much like the jumping type."
Someone has started a small fire on the bank in a can, and people exchange worried mutters and discuss their own private theories, without so much as bothering to consult either of you.

Harry You're able to help John remove his shirt and vest with comparatively little trouble, or at least with silence, revealing the telltale signs of a bruise that will span much of his back from the impact with the door, and a dozen or so gashes of varied depth from the claws of the nightgaunt, some of which are bleeding patiently, stressed by movement.
The bruises are particularly intense around one shoulder, and the back of his ribs, possibly broken ribs, but not severe enough to cause a 'dimple', and with no enormous trouble breathing, probably not more than two ribs.
"Ask questions, if you want." He offers, carefully pinching off his gloves. His bare hands are strange, functionally almost normal, much like everything else, but where his fingernails should be are curious dimples....and slightly greyish claws that flex slightly in and out of their sockets as his fingertips move.

Alana Your dazed composure earns another laugh from XingXing, who reaches to give you a strong shoulder. "Come on lovey. I work near here, you can make it." 'She' promises. "You get to be my guest tonight, how's that sound. Front row tickets." Comes the polite tease, trying to take your mind off your dazed state.

Emerging Memories Part 2

One day whilst Clover was closed and the man was polishing a pint glass with a towel this was going to be his last day he had gathered enough information to take to the Government and close this Bast*** down.

He noticed from out the corner of his eye that the cellar door was open slightly. He walked over, thinking it strange it was out of bounds anyway and being generally inquisitive he opened it further and had a peek inside maybe this would be the clincher what he needed to see... even more evidence for the crack down,

It was dark the lights didn’t work but there was a flashlight on the side of the fuse box. He walked slowly down the stairs he got to the bottom of the stairs and there was a repulsive smell what looked like meat hooks hanging from the ceiling and in the distance a shadow and many more doors walls full of books and in the center illuminated by the only light, light from a grate from the street above. A huge leather bound book on a podium it looked like something dark and sinister. He stepped back afraid and suddenly even for a G Man felt out of his depth.

"The Deep ones...." he whispered taken quite aback was it a summoning book?

but before he could go any further to investigate Ducatti called down to him

“I told you I was watching you”

He lunged at him down the stairs and caught him by the arm they struggled and the man managed to break free he ran, but as he ran he dropped a letter to Payge.

The man called out to him

“YOUR OVER DUCATTI, IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO!”

he had to stop the man from informing anyone as to what he had seen if he had seen anything... it could ruin him, get him killed by the people who kept him in charge of this secret. He could only gather from what he had been told from his men that he was working for someone, more than likely the government... he should have got rid of the guy sooner infact he didn't even know his damned name how could he have been this stupid!.

He picked the letter up off of the floor straightened himself out.

"Payge! I'd like to have a few words!"

(Payge was tossing and turning in the bed the dream/flashback getting quite intense)

"Thanks," Alana said, and laughed a little. "Front row, eh? Sounds perfect." Alana smiled gratefully at her companion. Her smile turned into a thoughtful look.

"You seem more like a girl than a boy... What do you usually think of yourself as?" She watched her companion's face to see what kind of reaction this question got.

Harry opened a packet of gauze and pressed it gently onto one of the bleeding cuts. "I dunno where to start with the questions at this point." She said as she carefully pulled the gauze away to see if the bleeding slowed. "I guess, who are you and why did you help me? That seems like a good place to start." She frowned as the cut continued to ooze blood. I wish these stupid things would just top bleeding already... Harry thought as she pushed the gauze back against the wound. "And, what would that Nightgaunt have done if it'd gotten ahold of me...no, wait...I don't think I want to know...I don't know are there others? Other people going through this?"

"Thank you, but in all honesty, I don't remember anything before being in the water."
Michael left it at that; he knew it was better to keep his mouth shut, especially now that he was convinced that he had most likely been mugged and pushed or thrown off the bridge. The stranger may have rescued him, but talk could easily get back to those who had targeted him. If a gangster thought Michael knew anything, he and his men would be back, and this time they would be certain that the job was done.
"All I know is that I was on my way to the Clover; I'm supposed to be working by now, but it seems I'll be late. Thanks again for your help, but if I'm much later, I'll be hearing it from the Boss."
Michael inclined his head again, before offering his hand to the stranger.
"I'm Michael Danforth by the way, I owe you one."

Harry: "It could have done quite a lot, depending on it's orders. Perhaps it wouldn't have harmed you personally, but would have unquestionably delivered you into the welcoming arms of something you are not ready for. John answered, with another curious flinch shivering its path across his blank features.
Some of the stubbornly bleeding scratches are notably deep, testament to it's incredible claws, but mercifully there is no visible trace of bone. "They will do everything in their power to stop you before you can do what I brought you here to do. And yes. There are. At the moment there are three others. More may come. It depends on the success and tenacity of the four of you. There was a fifth. She's slipped back into her dream, however. Unharmed...for the present. But useless to me."

Michael "You don't remember at all? Thats just crazy!" He pulled a face in surprise, trying to reconcile your claim. "I'm Charles Martel. Everyone calls me Red..." Which is an odd moniker to be sure, since his hair is just about as blond as it's possible to get. "You're really going to The Clover?" He presses, perking with interest. "Hey do you know the boss? I heard he might be hiring, but everyone's uptight at the moment, so I can't tell."
As it happens, he is, or was. DuCatti is, at the moment, in a grim mood, tempered by a black sense of humor, regarding a recent employee who has apparently vanished. An slightly older man, whispers are going through the club like fire that he might have been an agent, and people are waiting for, any night, the Clover to be forcefully put out of operation.

Alana XingXing smiles again, considering this question thoughtfully. "...I dunno. I just think of me as...me. Sure I'm a bit fluky, but I'm...me. How about you, lovey? Do you think of yourself as Alana first or as a woman?" You're being put on a bit now. "Engage me in a little chin music. It'll make us both feel better."

And One more installment I think from Payge? Then our lovely lady can wake up and shed some ooc light on things for people. >:3

((OOC: Chin Music is an old slang term for gossip. Fluky is obviously 'odd'. Not going to go overboard but I found my guide to slang. :3 I thought it might add some color.))

Final Dream

Ducatti picked up the letter and read it and laughed a little, his Payge had no idea what was going on but he could play on it make her cower do his bidding he loved overpowering people, everyone else was weak. He felt like a god untouchable. of course he knew she was telling the truth. But they were all puppets to him.

Payge was knocked around pretty badly that evening, she swore she didn't know he was a rat, she swore they were only friends, he taunted her about the letter mocking the way it was written as though the man was giving her a glimmer of hope that he would… "come back and save you and that I am sorry if I have put you in any danger but it was necessary for the good of the city, I am sorry I strung out this friendship without being able to tell you who I actually am, I'm sorry I lied to you." Ducatti said with a sarcastic tone.

"I want you to book a nice hotel room" he handed her cash.

"You and me what we have is nothing if you don't do this for me, my trust for you will go out the window and I will do everything within my power to make sure your life is hell. Remember who's in charge of this city! No ones going to cry for a dead harlot!"

This terrified Payge she had relied on his occasional comfort and protection for quite some time now and for that to be taken away could leave her open to terrible, terrible things, dark and nasty things. He hadn't finished.

"What I want you to do is be more than just friends….What I want you to do is play on his kindness his manhood arrange to meet him, say you have some info for him.." He glanced at Payge a bitter smile eyebrow raised.

"get him rat arsed pissed with a bottle of gin take it from behind my bar and when he's not looking mix it in his OJ And slip him this... it's a leaving present lets say from me to him. Ask a few question dig around I think he’s working for someone and I need to know who I’m up against. This is important!" He handed her a packet inside was one white pill it was a form of anaesthetic would numb his body completely so he wouldn't feel any pain but would see everything that was happening to him. Payge was shocked she had no idea that this kind family man was up to his neck in shit. And hoped he had good connections because he sure as hell wasn’t going to get out of this alive. By the sounds of it the guy was another rat trying to get the Speak easy closed down. To hell with that she’d be out of a job!


" Oh and Hunny... make sure you wear something provocative really get him worked up, we have another surprise for him...." he chuckled evilly patting her on the but on the way out.


Uncertain as to what Ducattis entire plan was she walked out of the tavern and reluctantly headed home to sort out her look for the night and contact him this wasn't the first time she had been asked to do this for Ducatti she was genuinely worried for the guy. she figured what the pill was for and decided it best not to give it him whatever was going to happen she hoped it was a quick and painless death and not long and drawn out. He was a nasty S.O.B and had been known to instruct people to carry out some disgusting painful deaths almost violating, damaging the human soul.... That was her last thought as it all faded and melted away.


She awoke startled by her dream she was standing by the wall in massive black letters in permanent marker was the man’s name. She backed off and placed the Marker on the table whilst the memories flooded back.


(OOC: not all of it was 100% clear. The killer has yet to be named and whilst payge has remembered most of the happenings the insight as to the full scale of things is yet to be determined. Payge still may not disclose this information until she is certain of all the facts herself or if ratted on... Ducatti was an instigator thats for sure but the state Frank St Johns body was left in wasn't by the hands of a human. Far too foul and grissly of a death)

Harry gently peeled the gauze back again, inspecting the wounds deeper. "You probably need stitches." She said as she grabbed a clean square of gauze. "But I have no idea how to do those...I guess we'll just have to tape you up until we can get you to a hospital." How they were to get to a hospital and how she was to explain her companions lack of a face...well she hadn't figured that part out yet. She took the bloody gauze away from the wound and put the clean one on, taping it securely before moving on to the next cut. "Well, we've got to find those other people then...if their experiences have been anything like mine then we've gotta help them out." Harry said matter of factly as she taped another wound clossed. Maybe if we find the others we can all figure out whats going on...

"I see what you mean,' Alana said. She thought for a moment before answering XingXing's question.

"Actually, both. Though it usually depend on what I'm thinking." Alana was rather embarrased to admit it, but she had strange... habit of repeating everything that she did 'story style' in her head.