Beyond the Second World: The First Knight [Rated M] (IC)

[Leanna]

*

Morning Before World Con
Time: 0805
24 Hours, 55 Minutes Before Expected Deportation

*

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

On ticks the doomsday clock... thought Rosie with an ominous sigh. Ever since she had turned off the music and ceased her little dancing escapade in the shower, the bubbly young lady had been trying her best to stifle an urge to boogie... so she could just get ready as quickly and quietly as possible. You know, like a normal person. It made Susan happy, anyway.

Hair combed? ✓
Teeth brushed? ✓
Makeup applied? ✓
Trousers on? ✓

Basics out of the way, Roisin was momentarily finding little else to do, as few possessions usually made for quick transitions. Packing a single rucksack could be done in five minutes, tops—especially when everything was crammed in slovenly. As it were, Roisin was actually ahead of schedule for once. Ode to freakin' joy! Wouldn't Peter (aka Roisin's father, who she calls Peter just to tease him) be so proud?

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

Now all there was to do was wait for her landlord to arrive at—cough cough—"8AM sharp." Hmm. How hilarious. Roisin had only met the man once (the day she had moved in), yet he did seem a wee bit prickly. The way he had practically thrown the keys in her general direction was rude enough, but did he have to ramble on about her not having proper papers? Or mumble 'look at what a bad economy has made me do'?

"Don't worry, pal. You can always call the Governator," Roisin joked lightheartedly before she turned on her best Arnie impression:

j u d g e m e n t d a y i s i n e v i t a b l e

Unamused by her antics, the landlord seized the wad of cash from Roisin and began to count it to collect his due rent and deposit. Ro didn't see what the big deal was with Mister Stick-Up-Arse, but she possessed perfectly good money (even if he had reluctantly agreed to house someone who had no record of fixed location or legitimate employment for over a year).

Also (if she did say so herself), she had been ten minutes late, not a whole half an hour like his exaggerating arse claimed. He was being a right prick about everything (to be honest) in that first meeting of theirs. This memory left Ro hoping that there would be no fuss in getting back her $1000 deposit when he finally decided to arrive to fetch the key and inspect the apartment.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

It was now 8:08 AM and Rosie's bored baby blues kept following the pendulum—left, right, left, right, left right—from her place on her "couch." What a dated old thing it was (the clock, not the couch), it being the only item left behind by the previous tenant. Rosie had tried to remove it, but it was securely bolted to the main wall, ticking time and life away.

Le sigh.

Still, this little nook had treated the Illustrious Miss Rushe well, even if it had only been "home" for slightly over a month. She was sad to say goodbye to the cosiness it had afforded her, especially after spending a year on the road living out of a camper van with randoms. Irregardless, she would never forget this place—and not only the studio apartment, but all of it. America truly had been a bit of a wild roller coaster, but...

My biggest loopty-loop is still to come.

Ah, well. No one could ever say she didn't go all out in almost everything she did, now could they? All you could do is put your hands up and enjoy the ride, couldn't you? At least when she was back in Ireland, she would have many a story to tell old friends and new. She could almost taste her mother’s famous stew, too. And then the doorbell rang, startling Rosie out of her trance-like stare at that tick-tick-ticking of that old grandfather clock.

*

Time: 0839
24 Hours, 21 Minutes Before Expected Deportation

*

The landlord spent nearly half an hour inspecting every crevice of the apartment (likely looking for any reason to keep the deposit), but not today, satan! Unluckily for him, the apartment was in perfect knick, so the landlord hesitantly handed the wad of cash over to Rosie before instructing her to take her posters off the wall. He said she should 'make it quick' (wow, rude), as he had to get to work by nine.

"All righty," Roisin responded agreeably. "But I'll leave the sofa set."

The man sighed and rolled his eyes. That thing was going straight into the bin.

Whatever. She was only here a fucking month... and it was all in good fun, wasn't it? There was no point in buying an actual couch set, so who was lacking sense here? Plus the teeny Batman sofa had made her blind date laugh when she had brought him back to her place a few weeks ago. If something stupid could make even one person smile, the effort was always worth it to Miss Ro. Wouldn't the world be unbearable otherwise?

Goodbye, Gene, she thought as she began to rip down the first poster, this image displaying the cover album of Kiss Destroyer. Goodbye, husbando, she continued on as down came the beautiful Jason Mamoa, who stood above an inscription that said Unite The Seven.

And goodbye to you too, Robin. Adios.

Once every colourful bit of makeshift decor had been removed, Roisin sauntered over towards the hallway as her landlord lowered the blinds before moving to lock up the place. She took one last glance at the now-empty wall as the apartment door was being slammed in front of her.

And good riddance, Ugly Ass Clock.

A broken lift made the walk down the fire escape a bit of an awkward journey for Roisin, as not a single word was said until landlord and tenant were standing on the footpath directly below the studio apartment. The man murmured a hasty "well... good luck, Irish..." before heading off. Rosie figured this sentiment was not meant very genuinely.

Now alone, the lass stood with only her rucksack, looking up towards her apartment... one last time. She wanted a glimpse of the little robin once more, but it was gone now. Would he return tomorrow to find that she was no longer there to feed him? Who knew. But there was one thing for certain: everything in life always changed. Well, except for one part, that is...

The clock always ticked on.

*

Time: 1933
13 Hours, 27 Minutes Before Expected Deportation

*

Roisin certainly was nowhere near thrilled, but her last few hours in America had been enjoyable enough. She had purchased tickets for a hop-on, hop-off tour bus around the city, ate to her heart's content, and now was people watching near the Golden Gate Bridge with a strawberry ice cream cone in hand.

She was hoping for a beautiful sunset before she planned to head back to the motel she would be staying in, the place being just a stone's throw away from the immigration office. She really couldn't risk being late for that appointment, especially if she expected the allocated officer to please... be gentle. She sort of liked that guy she had gone on a blind date with, too, so it would be nice to be able to see him again.

Anyway.

Ro stood for a moment to discard the now-sticky bit of paper that had been around her melting cone, dunking it into the closest public garbage can. A few flies buzzed around her face, pests that she swatted away before turning her attention back towards where she had been sitting. As she walked, she took notice of what looked like a receipt that gently blew in the wind.

Deciding that she would do a good deed and pick up after the litterbug, she ran after the coupon that traveled with the breeze. She caught the thing after a small effort, and began to inspect it... naturally. It appeared to be an admittance ticket for some cultural event—one that was going on right now—one that seemed to promise good music.

Glancing first to the left and then to the right, the area around her had no others around... and who knew how far the thing had already blown? Whatever the case, there was no chance of finding the owner of this ticket... realistically. So Roisin decided it might be fun to go check out the event for herself. It could be good craic, sure.

*

Time: 2047
12 Hours, 13 Minutes Before Expected Deportation

*

It had been some walk, but Rosie eventually made it to the convention centre. The atmosphere truly was buzzing and, as always, Ro followed the music. An interesting band was performing in one section of the place, so onward the young lady went towards the bar to order a cheeky pint before heading off to sip and sway along with the rhythm.

[SikstaSlathalin]

“You alive down there?” The event security asked into the darkened stairwell, aiming his flashlight down into the area. He waited a few beats before heading down in, one hand resting on the wall while the other kept a grip on his flashlight, his training keeping him from just bolting down the stairs after the man, despite the possible risk the man had taken falling down there. Each guard had been trained that there might be people there trying to disrupt or ruin the event for all, and even get it shut down for its message of peace. While it was highly doubtful the drunken cowboy could be one of them, it was not a risk he was going to take.

A drunken shout in what could be a foreign language answered as well the clatter of some chairs and tables. “Who's asking!” Was all the guard got.

*Good, he’s alive at least* The guard let out a sigh as he entered the room proper. Used as a storage area, it was lousy with chairs and spare tables for any hall that might need them. Several staircases connected to other halls, meaning less space to move them to other rooms. Finding the wall switches, he flipped it on, followed by the familiar thumps as the lights came on across the room, much like a warehouse light when they turn on first thing in the morning. Locating the cowboy, the guard moved over to him.

“Sir, I am one of the security guards at this event. Can you stand, or shall I call for medical help to bring you to the medical bay?” The guard asked of the man, winding up for the common speech he usually felt.

Zeke groaned loudly as the lights came on and blinded him causing him to instinctively roll deeper under the table he had fallen under causing it to flip over and be kicked in the guards direction. Covering his face Zeke swore again. “Turn the fuckin’ light off ya, bitch-faced Cholo Flip!” The man groaned turning away from the lights his head throbbing and his eyes aching.

*Great, not only is he drunk, he’s a racist drunk. 5 bucks says he’s Texan too* The guard mentally grumbled to himself, taking a small bit of delight keeping the lights on. If being a guard at this expensive a hotel meant having to deal with drunk racists, enjoying their misery was a very small price to pay.

“Sir, I cannot do that as it may cause harm to either of us to be down here in the dark. If you’d like I can guide you to the medical ward where we can get you checked out and a place to rest in a darkened room.” The guard asked, raising his voice just the tiniest bit higher to make sure the man could hear him loud and clear.

“We should get a move on anyway, as non staff members are not allowed down in this area.” The guard spoke again, moving closer to help the man up onto his feet.

Zeke rolled to his feet squaring off with the guard in a staggered stance. “I ain’t going no...where...til I want ya twiggy shit.” He let out a burp and tried to rush past the guard, but his head swam and he fell back down onto the floor. “Ugh..who’d have thought…*burp* a fight...and falling down steps...was...like this.” He muttered quietly before he flattened out onto his back.

“Alright bub, let's get you to a place you can sleep this off…” The guard spoke as he hauled Zeke back onto his feet, allowing the drunk to put most of his weight against his body. Seeing that he was still functioning, he helped guide the man through the basement and towards the stairs that would get the man up to the medical bay..

… Some Time Later…

“Mister Edge, willing to join us back with the living?” A voice asked, followed by the sound of a glass being placed on a table. Lekey looked over the man, eyes darting across his body before resting back on his face. Thumbing through some papers, he waited on the man, allo
wing the quiet bustle of the room beyond, nurses taking care of various problems and other unruly drunks who had managed to place themselves in a stupor already. It wasn’t an uncommon scene for events with a bar for those who wished it.

“From what the nurses said, you’re fit to continue drinking if you wish, other than some bruising and a damaged ego. Took quite the fall down those stairs now.” Lekey offered the man, having gone back to studying the folio he had brought with him.

Zeke groaned low opening his eyes but quickly closed them his voice much more sober sounding and gentler. “Aw hell, can ya turn the lights down please? I feel like pappy Edge after Granny caught him using her best linens to wipe the motor oil from his hands last Independence Day.” His hands flopped around until he feels the cold surface of a water glass and quickly pulls it up to his lips drinking deeply.

“As I guessed, definitely a Southern boy. More than likely Georgia or Atlanta if I had to guess. Dialect is not my forte.” Lekey responded with a knowing nod, giving him a smile, not one of comforts but confirmation. He was glad that the man wasn’t suffering from anything more severe. Closing and setting the folio down, he studied Zeke, eyes taking a calculated look before reaching over to draw the curtains shut, helping cut down the light some.

“Glad you like the drink. Mostly water with a mix of lemon pepper tea and honey. Been a pretty good hangover killer. Though not sure how it’ll do over the stair tumble.” Lekey spoke up again, leaning his chin against his hands, feeling the cool metal press into his skin.

“Would’ve been a shame if a set of stairs took you out.” Lekey chided Zeke, letting out a chuckle of his own amusement.

Zeke gave a short chuckle keeping his eyes closed draining the glass in one final gulp his drawl smoother less slurred now. “Atlanta is part of Georgia, Yankee. And I’m actually a few miles South of Atlanta, as for the stairs I’ve had worse. What happened?” He asked placing the glass back on the bed keeping his eyes closed and minimizing his movement as much as possible.

“Well, to give me credit, i'm not from these woods. As for what happened? I’m sure a man of your caliber can figure it out. While drunk, a woman tried to seduce you, which led to a brawl, real Southern hospitality there Zeke. You two got into a tiff as the crowd started to leave, which led to her man stepping in. Another tiff, then down the stairs you went.” Lekey spoke as though repeating a humorous limerick at the end.

“I sent my security team to make sure you and that boy were okay, then had you brought here once you passed out. Been waiting a bit for you to come around and make sure you weren’t suffering anything more than a bruised tailbone and ego.” Lekey finished off his report, gifting Zeke with a bemused smile on his face.

“Besides, something about you has .. piqued my interest as they say. My friends say I'm like a cat with a new toy when I find something interesting. One day it’ll kill me, but what's life without a bit of risk now and again?” Lekey offered up, sticking his hand outside the curtains to gain attention of a local nurse, planning on getting another glass of cold water for Zeke.

Zeke groaned lightly placing the new cold glass to his head the memories like a hazy dream in his mind. He remembers the guard and the punk he knocked out, but the woman was more blur than anything else. “Son that’s a Tuesday in my hometown, no kind of Southern Hospitality, did I hurt anyone else?” He asked drinking the water again. “Also I have no cash to pay for damages so y’all might as well lock me up now.”

“Oh, there is no need to worry for payments, rather a bit of community service might help. As for injuring another, there was only one other harmed, though we’ve yet to see him. I'm pretty sure a bloody nose is no major problem.” Lekey waved off the man’s worries.

“As you know, I wish to promote the harmony and strength of Humanity, by bringing us all together and showing just what we can do to impact the world. As with those who wish us good, there are those who wish us harm, and service their own agenda.” Lekey began, picking up the folio.

“Some are even so brazen to send people in their place to show this entire ordeal to be misguided and wrong, or those trying to prove I am not who I say, despite living an open book. So I have an offer to make of you, if you would wish it.” Lekey began in earnest, before handing over the folio.

“It's hard for a man like myself to move around a crowd with my face plastered everywhere, and even less my guards to work in the shadows. So, feel like doing the community, and humanity a favor?” Lekey asked of Zeke, placing his hands on his knees while looking over the man before him.

Zeke snorted placing the water on the table sliding more down the bed before opening the folio to study it. “That’s a whole lotta fancy talk and horseshit as my pa says, talk plain with this cowpoke ya fop.” He tossed the folder down and studied the man. “I ain’t never been one to suffer fancy talkin’ fools, especially ones I don’t even know the name of. So how’s about we start there then ya can try to recruit me to your Illuminati games.”

"Oh, you are quite the card, aren't you? But yes, as you said I'll stop talking fancy." Lekey began, mimicking Zeke's tone rather well. Giving a chuckle he picked up the folio and opened it back up.

"These are profiles of people who wish to either drag my name through the mud for what I propose, or people trying to show that I'm a take for this. I need someone with no ties to me to disrupt these peoples’ attempts. I honestly have nothing to hide, but you know how this world is. One wrong word, or just the wrong angled picture with the right words can make me seem like the devil. While my guards can take care of most of these problems, they are dealing with bigger problems at the moment. Mainly drunkards." Lekey begun and turned the folio around for him to see.

"So, do a bit of charity work for me, give some people a bad day, and I will forgive your crimes today while here." Lekey offered the man with a smile.

Zeke smirked lifting the water up. “So let me get this straight Robo man, you want this ole boy to play the leg breaker cause people are hurting your feelings? How Democrat of you old man, so what will giving someone a bad day look like?” He lifted the folder back-up flipping through the names and dossiers.

"Sir, you wound me. I am no Democrat." Lekey spoke, placing his hand against his chest as if hit in the heart. He let another chuckle slide past before allowing a sigh to end it. Leaning back in the chair as the man studied the information, he was enjoying the conversation rather well.

"As for bad day, I have only two requirements. First, it cannot be illegal or violent, I don't need you running around punching people in the face or stealing their equipment. Would not be good for this convention. Second, no killing. I know it seems to follow the ruling of the first, but there are some grey lines there that I'm positive a man like you can see through rather well." Lekey spoke as he laid out the rules. The limits should be rather well to keep Zeke in line and able to allow him plenty of creativity.

Zeke snorted tossing the folder back onto the table lifting up his water again. “Well sounds like you’re putting a lot of faith in a War Horse to be a Draft Horse old man. I ain’t one for underhanded cloak and dagger fuckery. If my pappy finds out there won’t be a place safe enough under the president’s desk for me. Why not tell this country boy exactly what you want.”

"I think you mean daft horse at this point." Lekey spoke, his tone of voice going flat. What he thought was a rather simple job was slowly becoming a headache behind the eyes for him. He let out a sigh and wished he had actual shoulders to roll for this headache. Standing up from his chair he paced to the edge of his bed and crossed his arms.

"The task is simple in action. I need you to get them to leave of their own design or ruin any chance they have of gathering information. If you can't, let the guards know and they can help force them out. The only thing is I cannot be the one to chase them off." Lekey laid out the mission details as plainly as possible for the man in front of him.

Zeke smirked seeing the annoyance he was giving the man. Rubbing his scruffy face he shrugged and nodded. “Sounds impossible without being violent, but I’ll do what I can so when does the fun begin?”

"Whenever you wish. The sooner the better. I'll let you get some rest and have fun." Lekey nodded to Zeke and withdrew the curtain, allowing light to flood the small area. Lekey smirked at Zeke before leaving the area and drawing the curtain shut when he left himself.

"Oh, and keep an eye on that last one, Mushi. He's a tricky one." Lekey added as a last thought.

[Koti~]

Several hours later, around midnight

“Sir, this plan will be beautiful. The wonders you have shown me are just so great. To think such a world exists that even our most advanced technology is akin to rubber ducks.” The man spoke, his eyes aglow as he looked upon the security screens. Lekey only chuckled, looking across the view with enjoyment in his eyes. He watched the people as the puppet continued to chatter besides him about the greatness. All the attendees had been fully checked in, even the stragglers had finally set up in their rooms. Several already looked promising candidates were under his watch, the most interesting between a young blind girl and a simple fast food manager.

Looking to his left he could see the movements of a man looking ready for the end of the world, with another looking like she had already left this world. He smiled thinking just how soon those would be tested for real. More even being the rather friendly scientist who seemed at odds with the calculating business clerk who looked ready to pick apart anyone who looked at her weird. They could be the most fun stranded alone.

“So, when is the grand plan to begin, I’ve never been more ready to leave this plane for another world, one better than this trivial world.”

“Oh, I almost forgot you were here. Pitiable meat bags like you just barely hold my interest, let alone stand a shot of moving over.” Lekey spoke, cold amusement laced upon his words. The clerk blinked, suddenly feeling very unsure of this plan.

“But you .. you said I would be moving onto such better lands. All those things you showed me. Am I really not going to see any of it?” The clerk asked, staring back at the screens, the glow in his eyes fading rapidly as cold reality crawled across his skin. Lekey only chuckled as he moved closer to the screen, his eyes scanning the room, his vision locking upon several shimmering locations that even now were starting to fade back into view.

“I asked you a question. Are you really telling me I'm going to end up nothing more than a pawn? Those bombs, there's enough force to crack even the fault line! Are you telling me it was all… It was all a lie wasn’t it?! You drugged and lied to me you bastard?!” The clerk shouted, anger now roiling under his skin. Blood boiling he reached for the pistol resting at his side. Hell be damned if he was going to let this mad man kill so many innocent lives.

His fingers barely touched the hilt as purple fingers wrapped around his neck, levitating the man off the ground and cutting off his air. Lekey didn’t even turn around to face the man, but one could see the tendrils of energy hovering from his shoulders.

“Who ever said you had an option. I just needed a pawn to set them. In truth, you were just a fun toy to use, and now that usefulness has run dry. Just let the last pleasant thought be that you helped some of these selected few move onto greater things.” Lekey spoke, looking over the other bombs, nestled into hidden nooks and crannies finally shimmered into existence now that most of the con-goers had retired to their rooms.

“Now though, is the best time to start the plan. Just think, your sad tiny life was poignant for something, even if you’ll never truly see it. Ta ta… oh you died. Well, your corpse will still hit the button.” Lekey had turned to look at the clerk, having forgotten the hold on him, only now noting the limp body resting in his psychic grip. Hoist it up some more, he tossed it onto the detonation trigger before vanishing into the gateway.

=========================================

Matt, so used to working nights, just couldn’t fall asleep with all the excitement around him. While most booths were closed by now, he couldn’t help just enjoying the spectacle around him. To have saved up enough money to make it to such an event, he didn’t want to miss a single moment of his trip here, and his natural sleep schedule allowed him to enjoy it in moderate peace and quiet. His travels brought him to the auditorium, with some booths surrounding the stage, yet very few people haunting around the place.

“This place is just so … awesome.” Matt spoke in a breathless whisper, before a soft ticking broke his thoughts. Ever the curious, he began following the sound, heading towards the main stage. The ticking sound could be heard flowing from the bottom of the edging. Lifting up the small curtain, he stuck his head underneath, expecting to find some amplification system underneath, only to feel cold fear grip his gut.

Resting beneath the stage was what could only be described was a large bomb. From the count down clock in the center frame, to the fact that it looked like a giant sea mine, it screamed massive bomb. His throat went dry as his body locked up, watching the clock tick down from 10, each moment seeming to drag forever. As soon as it hit 5, his body finally reacted, and his hoarse voice ripped through his throat, bellowing two short words that came too late.

“RUN! BOMB!”

===============================

From the view outside, the whole building seemed to shudder, a high pitched whistle as air was sucked into the open windows and doors, before the explosions hit. A ring of fire blasted from the outside, engulfing the building as more shockwaves hit as the bombs inside detonated just 5 seconds after the exteriors had gone off.

“All according to plan.” Lekey spoke as he hovered in the night sky, the clouds bathed blood red as the entire ground heaved, fire spewing from all directions as the shrill screams filled the air of the dead and dying as the bombs tore through the building, reducing a prized beacon of the world to little more than smoldering ash. To his eyes, he could see the energy ripple through the lands.

“Here it comes, the shift. Two metric tonnes of tnt was plenty enough to force this leyline to shift this far off course. Gotta give these humans one thing, they sure know how to blow shit up.” Lekey spoke, watching the far off line of energy snake through the ground, its course altered from its normal flow due to the sudden rampant energy now flooding the hotel from his explosions. He cackled happily as the energy began to burn through the hotel, lighting up the rubble as the ash began to drift down, the beautiful mix of fiery anger mixed with the flood of the massive ley line now passing under it.

================

Matt could barely see, the burning hot steel pinning him to the wall, his eyes having seen the flames covering all exits the moment he had shouted. His back, so close to the explosion, had taken most of the shrapnel from the 6ft tall bomb, yet they had shredded through him like wet paper. He didn’t even have time to register pain before being dragged through the air by the shockwave, rebar impaling his shoulder to the stone pillar.

“W-hy?” The question fell on dead lips, his vision began to fade, his body feeling both a frigid cold, and flaming inferno engulfing his last few precious moments of consciousness. As everything was swallowed by darkness, a faint blue light began to glow around him, and suddenly stuck.

“Is .. is this .. heaven?” Matt asked himself as the light began to wrap around him, comforting and glowing as it enveloped his vision, like a comforting hug pulling him into its embrace. He could barely think more as the light infused him, dragging his mind into unconsciousness, almost sure that he was finally dead, his mind trying to comfort itself in the last few dying moments.

[P.K.]

Gwen had laid back in the soft, fresh bed. The only thing she ever liked about staying in hotels was the beds, they were always so soft. But she rarely ever stayed at them because it was always a hassle. It was better to stay home. "comfortable?" Dan asked from the little bathroom. "Ya." She rolled over into her stomach, carefully hanging over the edge if the bed. "Are you sure your going to be okay on the couch?"

"Oh ya." He said hearing the smile in his voice. "I'm old but not over the hill yet." he promised coming over and sitting down next to her, just long enough to wrap his arms around her shoulders and kiss her forehead. "Good night sweety, sleep well." She felt his weight leave the bed and listened to his footsteps head over to the couch. "Oh." He paused. "I'll make a run to get that stuff for Toby in the morning." She nodded quietly before holding out her hand for Toby and snapped her fingers to call him over.

Running her hand over his back as he he curled up beside the bed before rolling onto her back and closed her blind eyes. She wasn't sure how long she had been laying there before she heard Toby get up, his claws clicking faintly against the floor. It was another moment before he started to whine. Her father's breathing was deep and slow, he was already asleep. She rolled back over. "Toby." she whispered. "What is it?" She wished he really could tell her. But he seemed uneasy, his whine wasn't one of needing to go out, he'd gone not that long ago. Something wasn't right.

Turning slowly till she could put her feet on the ground. Pushing herself to stand. "Toby?" she asked again in a low whisper, holding out her arms. Toby's footsteps came closer as he came into her arms putting his head over her shoulder. "Whats wrong? Are you home sick?" she asked. He whined. No that wasn't it. Toby took her sleeve in his mouth after a moment and started tugging her in what she assumed was the direction for the door. "Toby?"

Then the sound. A high pitch whistle and she could feel the air around her moving strangely. Gwen's gut knotted up she turned. "DAD!" She screamed in the split second silence.

The sound the followed drowned out everything else, making Gwen's ears ring as the the building heaved under her feet. She could feel herself screaming but she couldn't hear it as she fell. She wasn't sure what she hit, but it knocked the wind out of her lungs before a crushing weight dropped in her midsection. She could hear the bones shatter inside her own body, the sicking vibration followed by the pain. Her ears still ringing with the sound of the explosion she couldn't hear her own horse crys as she weakly tried to move whatever it was onto of her.

Bile and blood rose to her throat, making her cough and hack sending more waves of pain through her body until all she could do was lay back choking on blood and air. Faintly through the ringing she could have sworn she heard barking. But everything seemed distant and far away. "dad..." she breathed tears filling her blind eyes.

Silence, the ringing stopped, the pain faded. A strange warmth surrounded her light and comforting. her breath was stolen away in a strange sort of yawn, lulling her into what she could only assume was a final sleep.

[Breggo13]

Charlie leaned against the window’s frame, looking out the floor to ceiling see through opening out onto the sleeping city. Sleeping was frankly not the right description - the city was dotted with lights in the windows of tall buildings, the small sparks lining the roads across the whole area and a few fireworks going off somewhere in the distance. Growing up in some of Europe’s most influential and powerful cities, the young man still never understood how Americans could build such monstrosities and take hours upon hours to reach the nearest city. The huge skyscrapers seemed to push him down, suffocating him and leaving him with the feeling of being caged, the constant rush of the city sickening rather than endearing, the promise of a free future somewhat distant and diluted, nonexistent.

Looking out into the night, Charlie tried to understand life, something he did constantly. How did he, a lonely veterinary student starting out in the field and already shouldering ridiculous fame and expectations, fit into a corporate cruel world? How was he to come to terms with the horrors he had seen? With corporate CEOs calling him in to patch up a rare beast only to hunt it savagely in a few weeks, all the while praising him as some wondrous discovery? How was he to be excited about genetic codes and cloning research when no one could guarantee that those cloned felines (or any beast really) would be able to fix the world’s problems? Perhaps he should have quit vet school like he had wanted time and time before, aimlessly wandering off somewhere else….like culinary school. No one felt as ripped apart by morals in culinary school.

Behind him, the kitten let out a loud meow, actively demanding food and attention. Looking at his watch, Charlie shook his head - midnight hour. No wonder the little pest was hungry. Distracted by his new chew toy for most of the day and happily napping once they got to the quiet of the suite, Berlioz had woken up and was most hungry. Pushing away from the window, Charlie made his way to the little kitchenette, bare feet hitting the floor with quiet thuds. The fridge was stocked with carefully measured bottles of milk, ready to be warmed up and fed to the monster. Beside them, finely grounded meat in a tupperware container stood yet untouched.

“Perhaps you will want something more solid now that you have gnawed away at jerky,” Charlie muttered to himself, deciding to go for the meat as opposed to the milk. Pulling out the tupperware with one hand, he closed the fridge and pulled out an unbreakable bowl and a tiny scale, carefully measuring out an appropriate amount of food before heading over towards the large cage that currently contained the small kitten. Opening it, he slipped the bowl inside, leaving the door to the kennel open and watching curiously as the kitten approached the bowl, sniffing it in confusion. Then the little beast lifted his head, looked at Charlie and meowed.

“Maybe the old woman is right,” Charlie sighed, reaching to put a little of the food on his finger. “Maybe I have spoiled you.” The kitten didn’t respond, again sniffing the offering before gingerly taking it into his mouth and swallowing it. Seeing that Berlioz had no interest in actually eating from the bowl, the young man sat down cross legged and pulled the bowl out, carefully taking small pieces and feeding it to the kitten who happily ate half before refusing any more, instead sitting down and starting to clean his face with a paw. Wiping the meat on the edge of the bowl so that his fingers were a bit more clean, Charlie got to his feet, shaking his head. “You’ll be hungry before bed again won’t you? What will I do with you?” Berlioz continued to clean his face. Cleaning away the little kitten’s food, Charlie watched the beast meander around the suite, playing with his fuzzy toys originally meant for dogs but when one’s feline companion is bigger than the average cat with a bigger bite and paws he has yet to grow into, some exceptions do apply.

Running a hand through his hair, Charlie stripped and started for the bathroom, running a hot shower and taking his time, the water slowly washing away his thoughts and desires to seek answers - especially answers he didn’t want. Today had been a roller coaster - he seemed to suffocate in the crowd, forced to squeeze smiles and niceties out of himself, constantly catching someone’s interested or enamoured gaze, a few times forced to turn the other way from hostile glares. People were so complicated and strange - there was never any way of knowing what was on their mind. That is why he loved animals, the very reason he saved them. Animals were pure, they held no expectations and judged you by your own merits, not those of your ancestors. To them, it never mattered if you were white or black, a male or female, rich or poor. A lion would still devour you, an elk charge and pin you like a butterfly, a dog attack if it felt threatened. How did so many so-called smart beings miss that vital truth?

The water turned luke warm, a sign that the heating system was unable to heat so much water as the man was using. Quickly lathering himself in soap and scrubbing clean, Charlie wrapped himself in a towel, making his way to the bedroom, the kitten skidding on the floor at it chased a toy. Smiling to himself, the man quickly slipped into a pair of loose flannel pajama bottoms and dimmed the lights before getting into bed. With a soft ‘plump’, the kitten leaped onto the bed to join him, the fuzzy toy shaped like a duck proudly wedged in his mouth.

“You are something else, you know that?” Charlie murmured, unable to stop a chuckle as the kitten came closer, purring and kneading the veterinarian’s side, thankfully covered by a thick duvet. “One day, you’ll be hunting real ducks and all of this will be a far off memory. Little Berlioz will be all grown up.”

Charlie drifted off to sleep, the little furball snuggling into the covers beside him. There were no dreams, not really. Nothing except a predominant sense of danger. Something was deathly wrong, something that was uncontrollable and powerful, easily ready to kill. It was the kind of discomfort someone felt from being watched by a predator, knowing that the beast was about to pounce, already wondering what the feeling of hardened claws and teeth felt against feeble flesh. Everyone always pictured the famed Dr. O’Niell to be fearless, always ready to patch up any matter of dangerous beast, bring them from the brink of death. The truth was different - Charlie often looked into those pain filled wild eyes, say a prayer and walk in, slowly working to see if the animal could be calmed down enough to heal it. Sometimes, he walked away fine, sometimes there were scratches but somehow, he always found the courage to do what needed to be done. The fear never went away.

Soft nibbling of his fingers brought him out of his sleep, groggily blinking in the darkness to see two feline eyes staring at him as the lynx offspring pressed a bit more on his flesh as though to make some point. The light from the opened huge window allowed Charlie’s eyes to take in the room and he pushed himself up to lean on his elbows, frowning. Pleased with his efforts, Berlioz stopped the execution of the fingers and said a single, meaningful meow. Groaning, Charlie flopped back down into the pillows - obviously the cat was hungry at (he reached to look at the clock) 1 in the morning. Throwing back his blankets without bothering to see if it covered the kitten, the man sat up, rubbing his eyes.

Stumbling to the fridge, he grabbed the door and sighed. Perhaps that hesitation was how he’d know...on the tremor of the building….or maybe he was still thinking about his dream. Regardless, in that moment, Charlie suddenly felt a shock go through him. In the nearby distance, an explosion sounded. It wasn’t rational thought anymore, it wasn’t an attempt to save himself of the kitten. Charlie reacted on pure instinct, pushing away from the appliance that seemed to detonate within itself a mere second later and run, skid, slip back towards the bed as the world exploded around him, windows breaking and glass cutting his skin. He leaped, a perfect impersonation of a lion in flight, onto the bed, pulling the terrified being close to him, wanting to protect, to hide as flames, fumes and the impulse of the world engulfed them, ripping him to shreds. He howled and then….

Charles Dean Mortimore Chastile Ronals O’Niell the Third Esquire died.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Humming his favorite song Zeke exited his hospital room tossing the folder and the contracts into a goody bag the quacks gave him about alcoholism and the dangers of fighting people you don't know or some shit. More Liberal limp-wristed stupidness much like everything else he's come across since he came to Commiefornia. The Southern man honestly expected to be arrested for being grossly offensive just because he was wearing an American Flag t-shirt.

But so far his luck had held out, at least until he wound up in this hospital bed and was handed a job that was basically amounted to corporate espionage masked as blackmail so he wouldn't go to jail for getting drunk and starting a fight. Back home, he'd get a beer and a pat on the back as long as he didn't go down like a bitch. But he wasn't home, just deep in enemy territory waiting for his chance to get back East, but then again DC was turning into a mini Commiefornia these days. Hopefully he could maintain some sanity and build his own doomsday shelter before he became illegal to exist.

The outpatient paperwork was annoying as he expected but at least his internal jukebox was still playing The Devil went down the Georgia as he signed and dated each line pushed at him. As he signed the last paper he felt a twinge go up his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Years of being a paranoid prepper has given him something of a Sixth Sense for shit about to go sideways. And then he heard several massive explosions followed by the whole world shaking, his instinctively grabbed onto the counter while everyone else began flopping all over the place as another explosion hit the hospital wing right in the gut and lifted it off the ground with the force.

While everyone was screaming and dying Zeke's face creased in a Cheshire grin so he was going to see the end of the world, that'll be something to tell his family in Heaven about. He could tell by the sound and power of the explosions he and everyone in the convention hall was as good as dead if they were anywhere near the epicenter of the booms. Zeke would be among them, but he'd be damned if he was gonna go down like a bitch. As he saw the fireball of the explosion reaching the oxygen stores sending a pure pillar of fire through the halls Zeke punched through the glass of an emergency fire axe case and swung it expertly around his hand as he stared madly into the approaching fire part of him knew he was gonna die, but another part simply wouldn't accept it after all the other times he nearly died so with a loud laugh he charged the approaching fire. "Devil you come on back to try again? I done told you once you son of a bitch I'm the best there's ever been!" Zeke swung his axe at the flames laughing even as the flames consumed him and death stood with his scythe at the ready. Just before the flames ended him Zeke swung his melted weapon at the specter of death daring the reaper to come claim him.

[bluemoon]

TJ sat cross-legged on the king-sized bed, Jimmy stretched out beside her in nothing but his skivvies, the television playing a comedy show rerun, the dealer laughing at the antics on the screen. She ignored him, floating on her latest high, the remainder of a joint sitting on the side table in a roach clip, the glowing tip slowing eating into the wood. She reached for the greasy pizza box by her socked feet, pulling it to her and grabbing a cold slice. "I need a soda," she commented, shaking the empty can in her hand before attempting to toss it overhand into the trash. The container landed in a pile of previously missed shots scattered around the target and she sighed.

She was thirsty...but the thought of going back out into the lobby was not appealing. She had enough of that carpeted, poshly decorated, and stuffy waiting room to last her for the rest of this trip. Plus she had wasted a good part of her day out there after her little encounter with the cowboy, redirecting a nosey security guard on the events that had occured. She had managed to slip out of the public bathroom, with Jimmy going undetected behind the door, and the next hour was spent in an office answering questions with lie built upon lie. ...and the uniformed man had fallen for every word. She wanted to think she had been clever...and convincing...but in reality, she remembered little of what she said, other than her name was Rose...just like the decoration on the spiral notebook set off to the side. She chucked lightly.

"Jimmy, I'm gonna get a soda. You want anything?" She reached into his pant's pocket, the jeans hanging on the bedpost, and took out a few dollars and some change. A grunt was the only answer she got, followed by another bout of laughter. "Fine. I won't fuckin' get you anything," she remarked sourly, pocketing the room's key and the money. "I'll just be a few," she said as she slammed the door behind her, scowling at the gaudy wallpaper which screamed loudly at her as soon as she set foot outside. 'So outlandish...like everything here,' she thought.

After a momentary pause to tug up her jeans, she was padding down the nearly desserted hallway, making her way to the vending and ice machines. She could see the hotel's clerk only a short distance away, his attention on the phone he was jabbering into. TJ lowered her head, staring hard at the choices, before selecting a Sprite. As the can rolled down the shute, she felt a tremor under her feet, an explosive sound reaching her ears and a fiery red glow encircling the building. Confused, she turned her head in the direction of the rooms, seeing a tan dog in a vest moving towards her. Barking? Its muzzle was moving, but her ears were not registering the sound, only a high pitched whine. Her can bumped into the opening of the machine, TJ feeling the cold press of a nose against the outside of her hand at the same moment. In the few seconds that followed, the second series of explosives detonated, the floor beneath the young woman's feet disappearing in a spray of splinters and fiber. She was thrown upwards, hovering on thin air as the concussion of the bomb hit full force, the vending machines rocketing up and out, slamming into her and the service animal, carrying them both into the wall behind. There was no pain...no nothing...just a crushing impact that left behind a jelly-like substance of blood and tissue, interspersed with small particulates of bone. As the fire raged through the lobby, the scant trace of what had once been flesh and hair bubbled and burned to ash, a pale blue light enfolding the unrecognizable forms into its embrace.

[Kris]

Having spent all his time while on the convention venue with Rivka, Scott was in thought as they made their way down the hallway toward his room. The thought of ‘Where have you been all my life…’ seems like some sappy line out of some stale romance movie, yet here he was, having this exact thought. Though Billy seemed to focus on her driving people away, he has that exact personna himself. Stable relationships seemed to be what other people had, something that he had almost given up hope on having.

As he reaches his room and slips the keycard against the lock pad, the green light illuminates as the door locking mechanism allows for entry to the room. Looking toward Billy as he opens the door
“Some coffee before we call it a night?” extending his hand toward the open door to his room. Briefly he looks to his watch as “11:52 PM” stares back at him. He had earlier wished that his watch would simply advance to the end of this conference when he first arrived, now with this woman who intrigues him so, he wishes that time itself would cease so he could spend more of it getting to know Billy.

“Coffee? I am not sure it will do me good… Mainly if you have more expectations for this night, unless I am suppose to leave in the next minutes”. She sniffed the room. It had a pleasant smell. Her previous boyfriend was not too big on hygiene, and this was a welcomed change of air, so to speak, “I like how it smells here”, she said softly, before she headed to the bathroom. Clearly unused, or he was extremely careful to clean after himself. Another added bonus.

As Rivka explores the room, Scott moves into the kitchen of the suite and to the fridge. As of yet, he had not looked to see if they had the requested items in his suite, opening the fridge he is pleasantly surprised that they had what he had requested. Looking toward Rivka, offers
“Well, if coffee isn’t to your liking, I can offer orange juice or apple juice, not really into that alcohol thing but sure room service could fetch some if you desire.”

Still somewhat in surprise how a stunning woman such as Billy was unattached, he finds her direct approach to what she says and does refreshing. With that he tilts his head in the direction Rivka was currently, a genuine smile on his lips thinking again
‘Just where have you been all my life Billy?’

“In my house! Or with my grandparents. Depends which year we are talking!”, She nodded as she sat on the bed and started to remove her clothes, “Don’t drink coffee, go for one of the juices, those are good for… they are good!”, She removed her high heels as she touched the sheets on the bed.

Then suddenly… something felt… off… She found herself staring at the wall, for a long long moment.

Scott brings two bottles of apple juice from the refrigerator bringing then to the nightstand next to the bed. Setting the bottles down, he removes his shirt sitting next to Rivka looking at how beautiful she is, looking into her brown eyes he reaches over resting his hand along her face.

As Rivka looks to the wall, nothing is wrong, no unusual sounds have come up, yet an ominous feeling grips at Scott too. Is this the universe playing a cruel trick on him, will this be just a dream he wakes up from as the jet lands at San Francisco Airport. Billy is real yet he has the same feeling when a containment specimen quarantined was released in the air and a team was lost.

Not being one to hold words back, this woman with him seeming to be the same, Scott simply asks
“Something feel off, or is just me?”

“Well, I hoped to have another go before… I die…”, she just knew she was going to die. How? She wasn’t so sure. She held Scott tightly, “You are fun man, let’s meet in the after life!”

As Scott feels the warmth of Rivka press against him, he holds her close in the embrace, nothing will separate them, not even the impending doom he can not shake. As she mentions meeting in the after life, his lips close to her ear whispers
“It’s definitely a date Billy…” the sounds of running through the halls not mattering.

The muffled sound of someone screaming ‘bomb, run’ barely audible as his mind drifts to Terrance when he contracted a virus from careless handling of a specimen. His begging for a cure, begging for life, when death is ready to claim one, why not simply embrace what could not be changed. He is with a lovely woman he enjoys the personality of, what better way to….

As the walls disintegrate around him, he oddly feels at peace, while others scream and obviously try in vain to put off the inevitable, the only thing Scott could think of doing is to look into the woman’s eyes he is with, his last words coming from his life were
“Look for me too Billy…” unsure if the words actually came out over the deafening sound that rocked through the remnants of what mere microseconds ago were the room and bed

The room was warm in a second. It’s been a while since Billy felt such heat. At first she wondered if it was a new reaction she was experiencing by being embraced, but soon realized she was inflames. Literally.

“First time a man made me feel something in a while. I sure will!”, she said as the pain increased further and further and she felt herself losing the reality around her. It was painful.

And then there was nothing.

[Leanna]

Luckily, the music kept on until the (literal and proverbial) eleventh hour, providing Ro with a solid three hours of pure entertainment as she mingled amongst a merry, but slowly thinning crowd. Now four pints in, she was absolutely buzzing and (gasp) feeling particularly chatty, which lead her to strike up a conversation with some random newlywed couple from Baltimore. The pair were on the last leg of a cross-country road trip for their honeymoon, they mentioned, and this event in San Francisco was their final destination.

Naturally, this topic piqued the interest of the lively traveler, as there was little in life that Roisin enjoyed more than a solid road trip with good company. Cruising to parts unknown truly was a most invigorating stimulant; one that pumped serotonin through Rosie's veins quite liberally, always promising feelings of euphoria and ultimate freedom. So, needless to say, her enthusiasm on the subject was quite healthy, and opened the door to a pleasant back-and-forth exchange with the honeymooners.

As the music continued to oscillate in the background, stories were shared about spontaneous jaunts, journeys, and joy rides—with Rosie's travel-tales proving to be conspicuously chock full of mishaps—but always entertaining and outlined with the great spirit of adventure. The couple appeared to appreciate her company, too; eventually commenting on how they enjoyed listening to her accent and how they hoped to one day visit Ireland—both common inclinations that Ro heard whilst engaging with Los Americanos Locos.

Yet it never failed to tickle her fancy, or activate her Irish superpower of hospitality. Rosie could not help but automatically offer the pair a warm cup of tea and an even warmer welcome... should they ever make it to the fabled Emerald Isle. T'would be rude not to, ye know, the croaky voice of her grandmother echoed in her mind, her nan's famous catchphrase so ingrained within that it seemed to follow the little bird no matter where she roamed. (Besides, to not offer a cup of tea could be almost be considered bloody sacrilegious... and downright arseholery, to be fair.)

As it were, the notion made the newlyweds smile (even if the idea was a tad far-fetched) before they tiredly bid the blonde woman a friendly goodnight and a genuine take care of yourself. Rosie obviously returned the well wishes... before giving a good gander 'round to notice that the festivities were beginning to wind down as quickly as a fidget spinner... or any other trending piece of pure shite. Either way, many of the conventioneers had begun to head in for the night; but Ro was not ready to resign herself to her fate quite yet. If she resorted to sleep, well...

That meant she was one step closer to...

Oh, wow.

Steering her gaze towards the main entrance of the building, Roisin's distracted eyes settled upon a tall bloke who was... rather aesthetically pleasing. In fact, Rosie was finding it difficult to take her eyes off of him, her gaze following the Greek Statue Incarnate as he exited the building... as he paused on the pavement to light up a cigarette.

Time to get some fresh air, the bird mused a bit ironically, as liquid courage filled her with a desire to go entertain this fine specimen with some harmless flirting. Sure, she wasn't fond of smoking... but still. She could overlook that little tidbit because... he really was just that nice to look at beneath the moonlight, ye?

Toting along her pint, Roisin finger-combed her hair as she strode outside as casually as possible. Leaning up against the exterior wall of the convention centre with her hands in her pockets, she tried to look cool, being a few metres from the young man's general vicinity. Gah, he was even prettier up close.

"Hiya," Rosie spoke up, unable to hide her intrigue as her high-pitched voice chimed like a soft bell... which it tended to do when she entered come-hither mode. To her delight, the bloke turned his head to study the young woman who addressed him... before removing his cigarette to offer her a hello and a subtle smile...

With dimples! Ah, bless'm.

Because who on this green earth did not appreciate a lovely set of dimples?

No one! That's who.

Encouraged by this simple response, Roisin mentally fluffed up her feathers as she prepared herself to embrace the spontaneity of this moment. She would just go with the flow, and walk right up to him to introduce herself before, hopefully, partaking in a session of playful banter.

But apparently, the Dimple Gods did not will this meeting to be so. Because just as Ro began to approach, it was the fella who made the first move... to leave. Snuffing out the cherry of his cigarette on the pavement, he shook his head 'no' towards Rosie's general direction... and strode right past her. (Admittedly, this was an act that would save his life from the carnage that was soon to come...)

But... bleh. Roisin watched his retreating form, silently sipping at her beer and figuring that if she was prettier, he would have taken the time to speak with her. Besides, it wasn't like she really wanted much from him, anyway—just a little company, a little distraction, a little fun. But she would never be 'that girl,' she supposed; the one who could stop almost any man in his tracks by just existing.

And that was okay.

A fit of hacking coughs soon permeated the air, just in time to avert Roisin's attention from her musings on physical attractiveness to a murky little nook. There, a rough sleeper had set up a dingy camp against the wall of the convention centre, holding his hand out as the retreating man passed by him, most likely requesting a wee bit of coin. But he too was rejected.

As much as she did not want to admit it, moments of rejection truly were difficult to stomach—even for those with the strongest sorts of egos—so Ro took the time to walk up and pay attention to the disheveled man, no longer pining after the handsome one. Handing over her beer, she introduced herself using the same word she had five minutes ago, but this time for a very different audience.

"Hiya," she murmured, as she handed over the rest of her pint. "You can have this... if you want. It's a bit warm, but..." Rosie glanced down at him apologetically, fishing through her pocket to fetch a few dollars for him. The homeless man's forehead wrinkled heavily in surprise—not telling of his age, per se, as something about him did not seem particularly old. No. This was a young face weathered by personal hardship.

"Thank you," he responded humbly, abandoning his usual way of coping with life through numb solitude and avoiding most social interaction. Constant rejection had just been too much to take, and his voicelessness humiliating, so why try? "I appreciate it."

Five (or maybe ten?) minutes ticked away, as the two vagabonds chit-chatted away in the darkness. Rosie also shared some of her adventures with him, and he too with her, before...

"But don't you have somewhere to be, girl?" he questioned eventually, as a town clock began its first strike to tell the world that it was now in the midnight hour. "Shouldn't you be in a warm bed, instead of monkeying around a concrete jungle so late at night?"

The clock had now struck two times, three times...

Is it really that late already?

Rosie raised her wrist to have a looksy at her cute little Nightwing watch.

Hm. Nightwing says the time is 23:59.

Onward came four strikes from the town clock, and then five.

You're a minute late, Nightwing.

Six strikes, and then seven.

Twisting the little screw on her watch to reset it by sixty seconds, Roisin lost count of the eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, twelfth strikes that still resounded from the public clock; albeit mostly because a slight background noise suddenly caught her attention. A series of pop pop popping noises began to resound, one that almost reminded Roisin of popcorn. At first, this gave no cause for alarm.

But then came the screaming.

What was going on? From the outside, it was hard to tell, but the pop pop popping had increased its frequency, now becoming more akin to the boom boom booming of some furious thunder storm. The ground beneath shook and reverberated beneath her feet, negating Rosie's other innocent suspicion that this was merely some stupid prank that was being carried out with firecrackers. Because something deep inside her warned that it was time to run. Were there bombs? ...Terrorism?

Hoping for the best but preparing for the worst, Roisin shook herself from these disconcerting thoughts to seize the grubby hand of the rough sleeper, unable to verbalise her inner shout of c'mon! fast enough. Because before she knew it, the entire facade of the building proceeded to explode into a thousand pieces, sending glass and steel and concrete soaring in an unprecedented deluge of chaotic energy—raining debris down upon Rosie like the Star of Wormwood.

...

Or perhaps

...

Like some crushed rose between the pages of a heavy book

...

So it may never die

...

So its beauty might be remembered

...

Forever

...


Rosie tried to turn around, but found herself unable to do so, as the weight of rebar-enforced stone dressed her young body in the attire of the early grave.

"H... ey..." Roisin said with every bit of effort she could muster to the man beside her, who also laid crushed, bleeding, buried.

"I…" she pushed on, trying to say something.

Anything.

Because all she had to do was just keep going.

But the homeless man was giving little response.

All he was able to do was blink once at Ro, his mat of dirty blonde hair and wrinkly forehead being the only parts of him that she could now see; so buried was he beneath the rubble. Rosie watched as his weary eyes began to turn bloodshot, as internal bleeding and hemorrhaging began to work its magic and take over every fibre of the man's physical being.

"No... w... wait..."

But as much as she tried to speak, all that Rosie could do was whisper from beneath the unbearable amount of weight. All she could do was feel the hot blood starting to rise up her throat, bits of it beginning to ooze out of her nose and mouth.

"Y... you..."

She. must. keep. speaking. Because the man beside her was beginning to breath in a short and horrible way—like some fish out of water—and his expression was carrying the empty look of shock.

"...wait there..."

She must keep speaking.

"...someone will come..."

At the very least he would know that he would not die alone.

"...h... help."

But the man was now turning pale, his eyes losing every bit of lustre it still carried. He was succumbing. At this, Roisin's subconscious inadvertently thought of a quote from a book that she had read in school once. It was from The Hollow Men by T.S. Eliot.

So this is how the world ends?

Not with a bang, but a whimper?

In this moment, Roisin could see clear mental images of her family in Ireland—most vividly. Oddly, she could not help but hope that they all were having a lovely day, and enjoying a bit of sunshine. She hoped that they would forgive her for leaving... and living... and dying. Forgive her for never seeing any of them ever again. She deeply regretted that tomorrow she would not be deported. Ro hoped to at least be sitting on some plane, soaring above the Atlantic like some great bird of the skies. That would be enough.

But it wasn't.

Shit. All of this was too painful of a realisation, too much for Roisin's broken body to fathom. So the little bird let out a small whimper before she shut her eyes to pass—ashes to ashes and dust to dust.

[Koti~]

“Oh Lord Father above, forgive your lesser son the transgressions upon your sacred grounds and cleanse me of my immortal sins.”

“Never took you for a religious man, Lek.” A voice spoke out among the pews, followed closely by the sound of a heavy door closing. Shimmering purple enveloped the new man as he entered into the cathedral proper, the heavy cloak still damp from the pouring rain. Lekey smirked as he turned to look upon the newcomer, eager at the deep tones and new figure.

“Well, when in rome, play the part, am I right? And it seems you’ve decided to wear the big boy parts again. Though which one is it, The rugged police officer down on his luck, or the skittish drug dealer looking to repay the mafia? Maybe even the salaryman on his 5th cup of joe for the late shift?” Lekey asked the stranger, leaning back with a grin to make the Cheshire cat jealous. The figure responded with just a grunt and hefted himself into the pew in front of Lekey, bowing his head in respect of the churches deity.

“Funny to see an old god bowing to the new flesh.”

“Do you ever just shut up? Lords you’re worse than a drunk parrot, and I’ve lived with ten of them before.” The man finally spoke up, getting a loud chuckle out of Lekey.

“Seems I got the cop this time. Long time no see Officer Mush.” Lekey responded with an exaggerated bow from his seat. The man only gave another heavy sigh and sat back, pushing the damp hair off his forehead.

“You know, I could have you arrested and tried for that catastrophe on earth. No gods in the world would allow you to get away with that. And its Roland.” Roland finally turned to look at the hooded man. Lekeys grin went wide as his eyes began to shimmer a cattish yellow, knowing he was getting under the man’s skin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Mush, all I did was try and stop a corrupt security guard,”

“Who you choked to death.”

“From killing thousands. It’s not my fault he made the button red and shiny. Honestly though, not my fault humans are so fragile.”

“I swear Lekey, I’m going to kill you outright one of these days. You’re the one who manipulated that man to bring those explosives in. You even used your magic to hide them before they went off. More so, you killed countless people at that hotel that had nothing to do with this! Whats worse, who knows what kind of damage that’ll do to earth?! You had no reason to do that.” Roland bellowed at the hooded figure, finally rounding on the man, hands glowing with violent energy. Lekey chuckled as two purple hands began to hover around his shoulders, as though in defense.

“First, I had nothing to do with that guard. I just unlocked his mind to the truth of the world and the mission at large. It’s not my fault he didn’t understand the truth of what would happen. Just because he knew everything, didn’t mean he understood the truth. Besides, how would they feel if they knew you sent me there to recruit people to your side.” Lekey offered, his voice taking on a venomous edge. Roland glared at the man before finally snuffing the flames in his hands.

“I sent you because you said you knew a way to bring potential futures to this side.”

“Which I did. You never asked me how it had to be done. Only two things can make it to this side. Energy, and souls. For the latter to happen, the body has to be gone. For both to happen, it needs to be above an active ley line. How else was I supposed to bring them over so easily.” Lekey offered up, his joking tones returning.

“When they realize what happened, I’m not going to stop them if they come after you. They’ll want your blood when they learn the truth.” Roland started, looking down at his hands.

“Same to you. Your hands aren’t clean in this either.”

“So, where are the potentials that you moved over? They will need a place to stay and help them make sense of all of this.” Roland spoke, scrunching his hands together and looking at the ground.

“Moldurm.” Lekey spoke, watching with joy as the man in front of him turned around, a mix of horror and anger crossed through his eyes.

“You dropped them there?! But that Island is going through a cleanse. The beasts there….. Dammit Lekey, they won’t be much hope if they’ve been killed off before they can even be asked to help us.” Roland spoke, standing up and making his way towards the door.

“You said you wanted me to pick the best there was, so I figured they should be tested at least. I wouldn’t write them off so soon. Fate chose them for a reason. She’s the only one around here who has a shred of a thought.” Lekey offered up. Roland glared at him for a few moments, hand resting on the doorknob to the church entrance. The distant sounds of thunder echoed through the room.

“It’s gonna take me a week to rescue them if I’m lucky. If this fails, it’s your ass on the line.”Roland spoke as he pulled the door open, flooding the room with the sound of rainfall.

“It’s been good catching up, Mushi.” Lekey spoke with a chuckle before looking up to the rafters, a cackle pulsing through his ribs before he vanished as well, leaving a waft of smoke to trickle through the rafters of the old church.

================================================== =====

The sun warmed his flesh, the breeze rolling across the sands a perfect countenance to the heat. Grains of sand danced atop his hands, sending shivers through his body as it danced across his face. Lazy clouds moved about the sky, fluffy like cotton candy and taking fantastical shapes above him. The winds tickled his ears, scented with the smell of the ocean. He felt no desire to move, to sink into the warm sands and drift away with the winds, no thought or care.


*I died*

The thought crossed his mind, marring the picturesque feeling inside his body. It bothered him, wondering why he would be thinking such morose thoughts while trying to relax on his vacation. It must have been a bad dream brought upon him by the stress of work and home life. He pushed the thought from his mind, focusing upon a particularly large cloud. It looked like a lion opening its jaws for a silent roar. Matt could already imagine the sound in the back of his mind, loud and imposing.

*There was a bomb. So many died*

There was that thought again, the roar in his mind taking a change in tone. This thought he couldn't push from his mind. Matt pushed himself up, feeling grains of sand fall from his body, a shake of his head removing the grains stuck in his hair. He looked out upon a glorious sea, sunlight shimmering off it in perfect harmony as the waves danced across the beachfront. It stretched forever, the two masses of blue neverending, the only difference being the clouds that hung in the sky. The waters looked so inviting, the cool water inviting to wash the heat of the sun from his skin.

*Fire and explosions. I was pinned to the wall, hot metal burning my..*

The thoughts became harder to ignore. Matt could feel something settling into the back of his mind as he stared at the ocean. His hands moved, pressing against the white cotton shirt he was now wearing. Knots formed in his stomach, churning about what he had still in there. A cold sweat broke across his flesh as he pushed himself to his feet, reality forming as he finally came to light.

"I died.. oh God's I'm dead. I was .. impaled." Matt spoke the horror of his words, his stomach unable to take it. He leaned over, nausea washing over him like the ocean, spilling onto the beach as he gripped his body, holding himself. He tried to process what happened, to recall what had happened. His mind couldn't fully grasp it, trying to bury it under the world around him. Wiping his mouth clear, he looked back to the ocean.

"I guess this is heaven then?" Matt thought, before jabbing himself in the side. He was greeted by pain as he rubbed his side.

"I'm pretty sure heaven isn't supposed to hurt… I … I'll ignore that for now." Matt decided, the reality only being his current state. He rolled his shoulders, wincing from the old pain before looking his whole body over. His old clothes were completely gone (probably from the fire) and replaced with white cotton clothing, a simple short sleeve shirt and white shorts. Looking around, he spotted a pair of beach sandals that were the perfect fit for him. Matt couldn't stand staring at the sea any longer, the visual completely ruined.

Matt turned behind him, only to be greeted by the most lush jungle that could have been pulled from a picture book, if he'd taken a hit of acid. The colors were vibrant and alive, so much more poignant than any Matt had seen. The colors of the leaves danced with sunlight, the bark he could see on the palm trees almost picture perfect.

"So… I'm in wonderland. Great." Matt spoke, trying to put logic to what he could see. Figuring that nothing would be really gained by standing around, he moved towards the forest, scooping the sandals along the way. It didn't take long before he had reached the edge, but something seemed to shift as soon as his feet hit the grass line. He could best describe it as a twinge, like the world had changed without really changing. Subconsciously Matt turned around, looking back to the beach.

Like they had just winked into existence, there were more people around now, wearing similar clothing to him.

"Hey! Hey there! Where did you come from?" Matt began shouting out at the person closest that he could see, moving towards the person, both confused and glad that he could finally see another person here.