"Very Good."

It was Dad's voice from downstairs that woke Sara up. The words sounded muffled and one-sided, like he was on the phone. In Sara's room, the window was closed, but it felt like a cool breeze had just finished coming through. The rud-rud-rud of the fan that loomed from the ceiling, its mechanical gears whirring wind and pressing them down onto Sara where she lay in the bed.

Sara groaned quietly. How did she get here? She tried to listen for voices from downstairs.

But there were no voices to be heard. Wait?

One voice. A soft voice to be sure. A muffled voice. It was Dad's voice. Sounded like he was on the phone.

There was a deep throbbing in Sara's hand as she arched her neck forward, straining to listen.

OOC: Sara Rolls Wits + Composure

OOC: 09:49, Today: Sara rolled 2 successes using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((3,7,9,7,9)).

Sara strained to hear Dad's muffled voice through the thin walls of her room. It was definitely coming from down stairs, probably in the living room. If he was on the phone, he was probably using the harvest-gold colored rotary phone on the end table near the couch.

She could picture Dad now as she had usually seen him: Feet up on the coffee table, dirty socks probably making sweaty smudges on a worn surface. Intense look on his face as he placed next week's bets on races he had been looking into.

"Yes.." Dad's voice broke in.

"No, No. Not that one"

Silence. Then he spoke again.

"That horse, yeah."

"Oh, and one more thing. I have to bring my daughter."

"You do? Oh good. Sara will love to have a friend to play with."

Sara grimaced. Great. Putting a knife through her hand will come as a relief.

How did they get home, anyway? Did she pass out back then? Would Dad have sounded more worried if she did? As if...

Everything was the same. And yet it was different. Sara had no recollection of getting into bed. Or passing out. But she could feel the flannel pajamas she was wearing and that seemed to indicate that it was bed time. Or maybe that it was morning.

A car drove by outside, its headlights casting a rake of light through the shades on Sara's window that crossed across the rug floor and onto her bed before disappearing. In any normal circumstance, Sara might have chalked the whole thing up to a dream.

With some effort, Sara climbed out of her bed and went to check the windows.

Sara look out the window.

The sun was rising as a canopy of gold, bright amid the blue, bidding the stars to take their nightly rest. As the darkness of night surrendered, every color changed from tinges of charcoal to a vibrancy.

Autumn was coming. And summer fading away.

She peered at the street. Was there anyone outside?

Sara narrowed her eyes and caught the figure of a boy her age walking around in a zig-zag. He was wearing dark pants and a hoody that was too big for him. His face was pale and pasty like he hadn't been sleeping. By all accounts, it was too early for a kid to wander around the neighborhood. Especially with the news of so many kids missing lately.

Another weird kid. She got curious and opened the window. "Hey, you!" she called out, not too loudly.

The kid looked up. A tall kid by all accounts. He had baggy eyes like he hadn't slept in days. His glare was almost predatory as he stared back at Sarah, waiting for her say something else.

"What are you doing here?" It was suspicious, at least in the light of the last few days. What if he was also doing some homework? Or if that was over for good, some other errand for some other entity...

The kid glared at her. He appeared a lot bigger than he looked just a few moments ago. It was probably because Sarah could see his face.

"Screw off you dweeb! I live here!" he shouted back in an angry taunt that was clearly intended to intimidate Sarah with the menacing language.

OOC: Eric Rolls Presence + Intimidation vs.......

20:46, Today: Eric 'Trenk' Trenkenschue failed (no successes) using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((3,6,4,6,3)).

Sarah Rolls Resolve + Composure

Sara snorted contemptuously. "So what? I live here too. I've never seen you before, though."

OOC: 05:26, Today: Sara rolled 3 successes using 4d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((10(+4),10(+7),2,8)).

Sara was not to be intimidated. Especially not by a boy that was yards a way with a menacing stare.

"Wh...it's just....what do you want!?" The boy finished, rather lamely.

"Are you up to something?" Sara frowned sternly.

"Yeah." the kid said back in an even tone. It wasn't aggressive. But nor was he backing down.

"I'm going to go smoke a cigarette." He said, as if daring Sarah to tell him that a young kid should not be smoking cigarettes.

He eyed Sarah's reaction, staring up at her where she was in the window to see whether or not she disapproved. Daring her to disapprove.

She yawned. Didn't even have to fake it. "Really?"

"Go screw yourself!" The boy shouted up at the window, clearly interpreting Sarah's response as some kind of judgement against him. He walked by underneath it, eyes still fixed on Sarah as if waiting for a response. Though he kept walking as if he still was trying to get to wherever he was trying to go.

Sara just watched him for a few more moments. She wasn't buying it and did not attempt to hide that she wasn't buying it.

Sara watched as the boy walked off, out of view. He moved with slow deliberateness, head forward, mouth fixed, lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't look up back at Sara. He didn't turn around to check the window that she was at.

He walked off down the road and out of view.

Bored again, Sara closed the window and decided to go downstairs.

Sara was bored.

And so she went downstairs into the kitchen to see what was what.

She descended without too much hurry, listening in again. Was Dad still talking?

Sara heard the tell-tale sign of the phone clicking as it Dad clearly hung up. She heard his foot falls go across to the living room, the sound of him sitting on the couch. The clear, crinkling of the newspaper as it unfolded.

After a moment's thought, she decided to go to the kitchen to get herself a snack. And coincidentally, while she was there, size up some of their knives.

Sara walked down stairs into the kitchen. There, the smell of roast beef that mom must have been cooking for later on that day, perhaps for dinner, filled the air. It was certain that there would be at least one Charleston Chew in the freezer, a hard candy when frozen that could be eat. There was also bread in the pantry.

Sara's eyes wandered over to the kitchen knives. There was a big cleaver, and several large steak knifes. There were also a few paring knives for cutting fruit, the kind Mom used to slice up tomatoes and other fresh vegetables.

Okay, well, she wasn't supposed to cut her hand off. So the cleaver was out. One of the steak knives, maybe... Hmm. Maybe she should also find a bandage, just in case. Wouldn't want to bleed out to death from this.

Thinking about this made her feel a little ill. Nonetheless, her appetite was not so easily suppressed. Soon enough, it returned and Sara decided to help herself to Charleston Chew.

The Charleston Chew came out of the freezer cold to the touch. It was rock hard. But that was the point. After a few moments of warmth, it soften. Sara tasted the warm, gooeyness of the delicious chocolate.

Mm... That did make her feel better.

And it helped her think. It was still early in the morning. There was no need to rush this. But it was good to prepare everything in advance... So, then, where did they store bandages?

Sara pondered this thought. Bandages. There were none. Only band-aids. And those were under the sink in the bathroom.

That was better than nothing, she decided, after enjoying the candy for a little longer. May as well go and take one now, for later...
This message was last edited by the player at 11:11, Mon 29 Apr 2019.

Sara went to the bathroom and retrieved a handful of band-aids. However much blood might be produced, she had plenty of bandaids--she thought--to make sure that the wound at least could be covered.

Without further ado, Sara went to look for her dad.

It didn't take long.

Sara followed the trail of smoke into the living room where Dad sat with his feet up on the coffee table.

Dad gave a glance at Sara holding all of those band aids, and raised an eyebrow. But otherwise, he didn't say anything. Instead he took a long drag of the cigarette, and blue out the smoke which hung lazily in the air.

She was hoping she'd figure out where to hide them on the way here...

Oh well. "So, who were you talking to? I heard."

Dad didn't answer. He just took a long drag from his cigarette.

"What's with all the band-aids? You look like you're goin' to go off and cut your wrists or something."

He let the cigarette smoke out in a long exhale from his nostrils.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Like you'd care if I did."

Dad didn't answer. He just took a long drag from his cigarette.

"You're full of piss an vinegar today." Dad said, his mouth curled up to a smile, but his eyes all the while fixed on Sara. The mouth might have been smiling, but his eyes were dead cold. He had clearly noted Sara's back talk, and his eyes communicated that there might be only so much more of it he was willing to entertain.

"You still didn't answer my question." he stated, then he took another drag on the cigarette.

Something gave her momentary pause, he wasn't usually like this. "Might need them later," she muttered quietly, looking down, then stared at him again. "What about mine? Who was that, on the phone?"

Dad took another drag and eyed Sara, the silence growing between them. He exhaled lazily as if he was in no hurry to answer Sara's question, as if he might not answer at all.

"Alright." He said finally, as if entertained by the idea of telling Sara.

"That's my bookie. That was him on the phone."

"Do you know what a bookie is?" He asked doubtfully.

She screwed up her face, thinking. She knew this one, even though she wasn't sure from where. "It's... a... It's someone who takes bets?" It so figured that Dad would be gambling from home as well. But why was he talking about her as well?

"Right." Dad said, agreeing with Sara. And then, somewhat suspiciously

"Why? Do you have any money to place a bet?"

Sara frowned. "Not really..." If she searched her room, she probably could scrape together a fair amount... but why would she do that? "How much do you bet anyway?" she asked, curiously.

"A thousand." Dad said. "A thousand dollars. It costs me two points a week if I have to borrow. But it's worth it if I make the spread. The over-under on the Bills this week is insane. And that's just in football. At the OTB, there's a jockey who one the Derby last year, but with a different horse. Not many people know about it. But I've been looking at the books. I think its the same guy. On Saturday, he'll be on a horse named Cherrywinks. I think that same horse finished last year in 2nd, but with this jockey I'm betting first place. It's a 25 to 1 pay off. It can't miss!"

Most of that was way over her head, but so long as he wasn't talking about the bandages, it was good. "Did you win the last time?"

"What the fuck do you know about it!?" Dad yelled. Or screamed really. The question seemed to touch a nerve.

Then he calmed down, as if realizing that he was screaming at a child. His child. Sara.

"I mean..." he sighed with annoyance. "Whatever."

"What the heck are you doing any way?" Dad said, eager to get on with whatever it was that Sara was doing.

"I mean. What do you want?"

"Nothing. Never mind," she turned to storm off, then paused and looked back. "Wait. You wanted to bring me somewhere? When?"

Dad took a last drag on the cigarette.

"In five minutes. Get dressed." Then he got up and walked across to the kitchen and then took the keys off of the hook, ready to start the car.

Sara's eyes widened, and she ran off.

Alright. She'll pick out some clothes... and find some way to hide the band aids until she needed them. Taking a knife would be pushing her luck a bit too far though, probably. Hopefully dad's bookie friend or whatever had some where they were going.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:32, Sun 12 May 2019.

Sara rummaged through the clothes in her room, getting dressed as quickly as possible. When she was done getting dressed she found she still has the knife in her hands. She could put it down, or decide to bring it with her.

...knife? What knife? She didn't remember taking a knife. She just looked. Or was this the kleptomania her teachers kept talking about?

Was it small enough to hide safely in her clothes?

The knife was small enough to fit in her clothes, and as Sara pondered her decision to take it with her or not, she heard her Dad lay on the horn outside, calling her to the car

"BEEEEEEEP!!!!"

Sara hid the knife in her pocket and hurried to the car.

When Sara got into the driver's seat, her Dad looked her over. "I was almost going to leave you." He said.

And before Sara could answer back he slammed on the gas, causing her head to jolt backwards as the car lurched forward, punching down the road with all of the hurry of a race horse.

She saw that coming. Or at least, she should have. "Maybe you should be racing," Sara muttered after a few moments, recovering from the lurch.

"Why? You wanna drive?" Dad asked. And Sara couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

Sara fidgeted. "Uh, no. I'll pass."

The car sped down the road and Dad swerved a nearby pothole, sending a 'zing' into Sara's stomach. He turned the corner and Sara could smell and hear the burning rubber of the tires as they gripped the road and then skidded.

Gritting her teeth, Sara looked out, trying to figure out where they were going exactly.

They were downtown in Los Angeles now, and Dad was looking very anxious. Not the nervousness of a horse better, but the anticipation of someone waiting for the right card to turn on a playing table in Vegas.

"When I stop the car, I want you to stay in it, you got it? You stay in the car, behind the wheel like you're the driver. Then, when I get  back, scoot over to the passenger side."

"Repeat to me what I just said."

Sara stared. "Stay in the car behind the wheel, then when you get back, scoot over to the passenger side. Why?"

"Because..." Dad said, raising an eyebrow and then giving Sara an even look.

"That's what your job is. You don't get to ask any more questions than that. Not right now." Dad got out of the car and then shut the driver's side door.

"If anyone asks any questions, just tell them the truth. That your Dad said he would be right back and that you're watching the car. Oh, and don't roll the window up, it's hot outside."

This message was last updated by the player at 15:36, Sat 01 June 2019.

Sara rolled her eyes, exhaled huffily and then moved over to the wheel. She looked around. What sort of neighbourhood were they in?

OOC: Wrong Dad.

Dad walked away in a brisk jog towards a shanty looking building.

They were in what Sara heard was called 'The hood.' It was clearly South Central Los Angeles and Sara heard someone say at one time that this was a rough neighborhood with warring gangs. She had no idea why her Dad would take her here.

Yeah, but it probably made sense that his bookie would be in a place like that. Despite herself, Sara began to feel a little excited. She watched for gangsters, and surreptitiously checked her knife to see if it was still there.

Sara checked and saw that indeed her knife was there. When she looked up, it appeared that someone was walking towards the car from down the block...

She peered at that... someone. Did he or she look like a gangster?

And he did. Sara could see that the figure was tall and rugged. He carried a bulk in his coat, as if hiding something. A weapon. He starred to run in a brisk jog towards the car, looking at Sara with an expression that was confusion.

Sara stared back, while keeping a hand on the hilt of the knife.

The man walking towards the car stopped in front of the driver's side window where Sara was.

"What the fuck!?" He said in shock and disappointment. "Where the fuck is Jerry!?"

Ohhhh, she got it. "He'll be back soon. I'm just watching the car."

"Watching the car? What are you, his...his fucking kid? He brought his fucking kid to this?"

"Yep," Sara nodded matter-of-factly. Then: "Are you his bookie?" Or... Oh man, was Dad working with drug dealers? To pay off gambling debts or something? Sara watched the man intently.

"Wha...?" The man said. It appeared he was left speechless. "Listen, kid." He started, as if trying to come to grips with whatever surprise Sara's presence had shocked him into.

"I'm supposed to meet Jerry here. And then he's supposed to show me which building we're supposed to go into. Where'd Jerry go?"

"He stepped out. He'll be right back." Sara frowned in annoyance. Where did he go, anyway? And shouldn't he be back by now? Did he screw up his drug deal or something? "What are you guys doing, anyway?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:10, Tue 11 June 2019.

" Jesus Christ. We don't have time for this. Get the fuck outta the car kid!" The man suddenly yelled at Sara. He grabbed the door handle and yanked the driver's side door open.

Sara's shock gave way to anger. "No I won't!" she took out the knife and brandished it.

The man stepped back, as if surprised by the gesture and the appearance of the knife. Then his lips curled back to reveal a snarl.

In a calm voice he said "Get...the..FUCK...out of the car kid." There appeared to be a threat in that tone. Even now Sara could see that the man's hands were balled up into fists on the sides, his posture rigid.

This was scarier than the Tattooed Lady. After all, that was kind of a dream, or felt like it at least. This, though, was real, no two ways about it... Only, fear just made Sara dig in her heels more. "Go away," she muttered darkly, still brandishing the knife.

"Whoa! Hey!!!" Dad yelled, coming upon the car. He was running from the dilapidated building and was carrying a black garbage bag that was about one fourth filled with something that appeared to be light the way Dad was carrying it.

Dad ran towards the car. "Sara, get in the back seat, I gotta drive!" Dad said with urgency.

"YOU!!!" Dad yelled at the man. Get in the passenger seat.

Sara quickly hid the knife, then got out of the car to get into the back seat. She wasn't going to show it, but she was wary of the man. Not like she'd never been yelled at before, but this seemed kind of different and more dangerous. It made her hate him more.

"You alright?" Dad asked Sara as he put the car into gear.

"Hm?" she asked a bit jumpily. "Yeah, fine." She took another glance at the man.

As Sarah looked, the man and Dad started to talk about how the 'job' had gone. The man told Dad that bringing 'this kid' wasn't part of the plan. Dad told the man to relax and then the two didn't speak for a while. Finally Dad started talking about how he and the man had gotten 'a lot of money' from the 'job.'

Sara listened with interest. She wasn't sure if they remembered she existed or what.

"So 2K for the job, but Benny has to take his cut." Dad explained, turning the car onto a road that Sara was unfamiliar with.

"But what are you going to spend it on?"

"Benny? He doesn't have anything to do with this joint. I tried to tell you that we don't need him. If he's getting 2K for just pointing out the spot, I want 3K for breaking it in. A finder's fee isn't worth 3K." The man took out a cigarette and cupped his hands together. Sara heard the crisp, flicking of a lighter, saw the flame make the end of the cigarette into a burning ember.

"Fine." Dad said "One point for Benny. And the rest for us."

He pulled the car up to what looked like an old, dilapidated house. Then he put the car in park and said to the man "What are you gonna spend your share on?"

The man smiled back. "Fast women and fast cars."

Sara looked at Dad. His car was already plenty fast when he was driving it. His friend probably wasn't too different. Maybe that was why he needed several, because he kept crashing them? And what did he mean by fast women? Cars were probably still faster, though...

Also, Benny... did she know who that was?

All of the adult talk that Sara had heard between the two men sounded just like that: Talk between two men that were talking about things she hadn't experienced and about people that she hadn't met. Nothing could be understood by what she had heard, other than that Dad and this man seemed to be involved in some kind of possible criminal activity.

"Alright, let's go." Dad said, getting out of the car and approaching the building.

Sara got out as well.

The three opened the door of the old abandoned house and Dad turned on the light to reveal a neatly organized room. Unlike the exterior everything seemed to be clean and minimalist. There was a table in the middle of the room with some kind of small machine on it, four black folding chairs around it. The walls were painted a pale, blue-gray.

A coffee pot lay on the counter of a nearby kitchen in which emanated the distinct smell of pancakes.

"Go ahead, sit down Sara." Dad instructed. "I brought you hear because your growing up. And its about time you see how money is made in this family. I don't' want you to say anything to your mother about this. That goes without saying. Understand?"

He did say it, though. Sara sat down in one of the chairs. "Yep, got it," she told Dad with a curt nod. Despite herself, she was starting to feel a little bit curious about this.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:57, Fri 28 June 2019.

"Do we have to have her in here?" The other man said rolling his eyes. "She's just a kid."

"My kid." Dad corrected. "And yes, we do. She's old enough and she did the job that she was asked to do."

"What job? Sit in the car, confuse the situation and then almost stab me?" The man asked sarcastically.

There was a flash of anger on Dad's face. The kind of anger that suggested he might do something. But instead he was silent for a second. Then he breathed in a deep breath and said.

"We all start somewhere." And then he turned to Sara.

"This is a counting machine." He said pointing to the machine. "It counts bills of money."

He sat down tat the table next to Sara, the folding chair giving a little creak as he settled into it.

"We just stole 20 thousand dollars from a safe. In that building while you were waiting the car. Now this 20 thousand dollars isn't all ours. It has to be divided up into four. But first, we have to count it. Count it and then divide it."

He put the garbage bag on the table. "Understand everything so far?"

Sara glared at Dad's friend, then nodded at Dad's explanation. Then, she asked: "Four? There's you two and Benny..." She raised an eyebrow.

"Ha!" The man laughed. "Don't get your hopes up kid!"

Dad ignored the man. "The fourth is a silent partner. It means we don't know who he is. Or she is."

Then he put both hands on the machine and pressed a button.



Then he took a stack of one hundred dollar bills and put them on top the machine.

clack!
clack!
clack!
clack!

The machine ratcheted off bunch of sounds and then a number appeared on the electronic front: 700.

"Do you think you can handle the count?"

Maybe the silent partner was the tattooed lady.

"Who, me?" Sara raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I could. Wait, don't you already know how much you took though?"

"It's not about me." Dad said. "It's about me teaching my girl how to do this." He said, referring to Sara.

"Why, you aren't interested? If you aren't that's fine. We can go home." Dad said and Sara could tell that he was being sincere.

Sara opened her mouth, then closed it. She was getting a strange feeling here. The way Dad's been acting today... It was like he cared, all of a sudden. Why?

"I was just asking," she frowned. "Fine, I'll do it."

OOC: Sara Rolls Intelligence + Study with the following results

0 Successes: Yikes! Sara misses the count

1 Success: The count is done successfully

2+ Successes: Sara gets the count right. And Dad is impressed.

Sara got to work. It was tedious and her mind could not help but wander. Why was crime so... boring? The dreams were more exciting. Was Dad just acting all loving parent-like because he didn't want to do this boring job? And why did they need it anyway, if they knew how much they took?

07:38, Today: Sara failed (no successes) using 4d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((4,6,2,2)).

Sara got to work wondering how things that were supposed to be so exciting got so boring so quickly. It didn't take long for an adult to jump in and point out that Sara, a kid, hadn't been able to concentrate.

"She's messing up the count!" The man said, pointing to her. "Come on, do we have to let her do it?"

Dad shook his head and sighed with disappointment. "Sara, concentrate." He said, somewhat annoyed.

"You're gonna let her keep going? I'm not losing money off of this." the man threatened.

"Shut the fuck up." Dad barked back, meeting the man's eyes with a cold glare. "Sara. Do the count. Do it right this time."

OOC: Sara Rolls Intelligence + Study with the following results

0 Successes: Yikes! Sara misses the count

1 Success: The count is done successfully

2+ Successes: Sara gets the count right. And Dad is impressed.

Sara went back to work, fuming. Maybe she should've just stabbed the guy. Or herself. Why waste time? She had things to do...

Inevitably, she missed the count again. This time, she caught it herself. "Okay, I changed my mind," she said, not looking at anyone. "Do it yourselves, I'll wait outside." She stormed out, or tried to.

OOC: 18:09, Today: Sara failed (no successes) using 4d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((7,2,3,7)).

Dad was more than disappointed this time. He was angry. But Sara didn't hear the full extent of what he was saying because she was too busy storming out of the house.

When Sara got outside, there was a cool breeze. It was then that she noticed that it was way past her bedtime. Being outside alone, the idea that her Dad was a criminal or at least had done something criminal, was beginning to dawn on her. This night was the first time that Sara had actually been exposed to something like this.

Well... Well, whatever. Maybe he'd get arrested or something. She wasn't going to tell on him, though. That would be a whole other hassle, and... she had things to do.

Still seething, she took out her knife, holding it with her right hand. A little shakily, she opened her left hand's palm. After a moment of hesitation, she grit her teeth and stabbed herself in the palm. She bit her lip and her eyes widened, but she began to push it through...

The knife went through Sara's hand. It stopped halfway, but then she pushed it through. There was surprisingly no pain. A gout of blood first trickled and then pooled by Sara's feet.

No pain.

Whatsmore, when Sara took the knife out. The wound had completely healed. It was as if Sara had never stabbed herself in the first place. She watched as the wound simply closed up magically.

Out of the corner of Sara's eye, she caught the glimpse of a distant glow across the street....

Lowering her hand, Sara walked, then ran towards the light. A sense of wonder mingled with terror made her heart beat faster.

The light Sara saw started to stutter into blackness; at first the flickers were wildly spaced apart, yet soon they became so close together that there was more darkness than light. She followed the light across the road into an abandoned junk yard. Sara's heart heart was beating so fast she could feel the pulse jumping in her neck during the brief illuminations.

The light now seemed more certain: It was a flashlight.

Sara followed it, winding her way down the path of piled up cars and spare parts in the junk yard. The flashlight cast an ominous glow as she progressed, bouncing off of the angular, rusted cars and making the shadows of the junk yard dance.

Should she keep following it?

Yes, of course. Though she did wonder; was this the right light if it was just a flashlight? But she didn't see another one she could follow...

Sara followed the light through the channel of rusted out cars and metal that was more like the labyrinth of a dystopian world than just a junk yard. The smell of oil and machine parts filled the night air. Emerging from the tunnel, Sara came to a clearing and could see the light.

It wasn't moving anymore. Instead, it was still. It was in the middle of the clearing. She could see a shadowy figure about 40 paces away was holding the flashlight. The figure was sitting down in the middle of the clearing on what looked like a large tractor tire. There were several tires of the same large size in the middle of the clearing.

Sara cringed at the smell, then approached to get a better look at the figure. Was it the Tattooed Lady?

Sara approached the huddling of large tires, the smell now of old rubber and dirt. Sitting on top of one of them was a small boy, perhaps eight years old. He was holding what looked like a flashlight inside of a metal lantern. The bulb illuminated the area around the tires. Next to him, there was an old time radio that looked like it belonged in Sara's grandparents house. It was wooden and placed carefully on top one of the tires. It clearly belonged to the boy.

"It's a nice night for it." The boy said in a soft voice of a child.

"My name is Mark. I'm here because the Tattooed Lady sent me. I'm here to answer any questions that you might have. And afterwards, she told me to tell you what's next."

Sara frowned at the little kid. It wasn't who she expected. But he knew about her... "Did you do this too?" she asked, holding out her palm.

"No, that's not me. That's the work of her. The Tattooed Lady?"

He made a motion for Sara to sit down with his hand. Then he looked at the Radio. "I have to turn the radio on before we talk. It's a special radio. Kind of like a magical radio. It makes sure that everything around us slows down. And then no one can hear us talk." He told Sara.

Then he frowned. "That probably doesn't make much sense to you right now. But I can explain. That's what I'm here for. To explain things to you."

His small hand gripped the dial of the radio, ready to change the frequency to a radio station. "What kind of music do you like?"

Sara's frown deepened. "I don't really... Just, do whatever."

"Ah...no. Nope." Mark replied shaking his head like he was trying to work out what Sara had said and then ultimately decided that what she said wouldn't work. "It doesn't work that way." He tried to explain to Sara.

"You'll understand in a minute once we start talking about stuff. But the radio acts as kind of a music station. But it's not really a music station. It sort of blocks out the the bad things that might hear us talk about what we're going to talk about."

"We don't want any bad things to come if they hear us."

"But it only works if you pick music you actually like. I'm the radio's keeper. So it doesn't matter the music that I like. It works this way because that's what happened since the Tattooed Lady gave me this tattoo. See?"

He rolled up his sleeve to display what looked like the image of a warped radio on his forearm. Deep lines of green and blue ink were etched into the little boy's skin and Sara noticed that there might be some scarring there as well. There were two antennas that protruded from the top of the radio. One was designed to have fire around the antenna, and the other lightening.

She really didn't like music, though... Sara thought a bit, glancing at her palm in case something showed up there. "Jazz then." At least she thought that was what it was, but she guessed she liked it well enough.

Nothing showed up on Sara's palm to give her the answer. But when Sara said 'Jazz then' the tattoo on her palm shimmered.

Mark touched the dial of the radio and there was a bit of static. Then the music started. Through the static a jazzy tune with an old black man's voice singing about days passed and love that had left him.

"There." Mark said. "That's a good start."

A cockroach was crawling on the ground near Sara's foot. When Mark turned on the radio, the cockroach slowed down and then stopped. One of it's spiked leg's halfway lifted up in the air, frozen as if about to take a step. It continued to hold the pose.

"The radio stops time." Mark said. "It's like....uh...I dunno. It's like magical. Now we can talk about whatever. Whatever questions you have. Like, about the Tattooed Lady. Or the tattoos. Or anything. About what's going on. And why. And all of that stuff. We could also talk about fun stuff. Like cartoons and your favorite candy. 'Been a while since I had time to actually talk with another kid about stuff. Maybe we can play later too." He offered, warming to the idea of getting to chat with Sara.

"I mean. You survived right? So that means you must have some questions."

Sara looked around, as the world comes to a halt. Something about this felt funny. Her previous experiences all felt sort of disconnected from her everyday life, but this was almost seamless...

There was a strange sense of finality here, too, which made her feel oddly hesitant. "Survived what? The stabbing?"

"Yeah. The stabbing." Mark confirmed, leaving the radio behind and now focusing on Sara. His small legs were swinging, the way little kids do when they sit on something too high for their feet to touch the ground.

The air shimmered around the small lit area of the junk yard where they sat. Everything seemed frozen in time.

"So...what were we talking about?" Mark asked Sara, a little kid trying to remember and concentrate.

"Do people die from that?" Sara asked in return, not really waiting to get her thoughts in order. "Why didn't I die?"

Mark spoke over the jaunty tune of the radio. "Oh yes. Yeah. I mean....yeah." Mark confirmed, nodding his head vigorously.

"Why didn't you die...." He said, trailing off. He stopped swinging his legs and leaned forward.

"It's like, well...its kind of a lot to talk about so I'm gonna try to start at, well, the beginning, OK? So I guess I could say that you didn't' die because we both have, like tattoos. And the what the tattoos are, is that they're actually not tattoos even though they are. They look like Tattoos, but really they're a...."

"Secret language."


"Because they're actually written with symbols. Funny signs and stuff if you look really close. Its an ancient language. Like old. Sort of older than the Egypt guys. Really old."

"And the Tattooed Lady is old. So, she knows the language. And the language she used makes sure that nothing ever can hurt that tatooed hand that you have."

"So nothing can hurt me now?" Sara asks, incredulously. "Or... just the hand? What about her?"

"The hand." Mark said with a smile. "Or just...well, just the part that's Tattooed."

"Because its got special letters on it. I'm not so sure about her. I dunno. I don't know what hurts her. I think she's got tattoos so probably nothing on those tattoos. " Mark explained. "Do you want some popcorn?" He asked pulling out a red transformers lunch box and opening it.

"Is it ordinary popcorn or magic popcorn?" Sara asks, her hand freezing halfway towards the lunch box.

"Caramel." Mark said, crunching away. "It's like Cracker Jacks."

Sara takes some and tries it, while thinking of what else to ask about. How is it?

The Crackers Jacks had a sweet and salty flavor just like that should. While Sara was chewing, she noticed that nothing else was making any sound at all during the night.

Because of everything was frozen in time.

"What were we talking about?" Mark asked, clearly busy enjoying the Cracker Jacks himself.

"Mphm," Sara started, then paused to finish the popcorn. "Does the tattoo do anything else to me?"

"Nope." Mark insisted. "It doesn't do anything else." Mark said.

Then he looked at the radio and then back at Sara. Then he moved his eyes back and forth in a conspiratorial way, as if he was about to share some kind of forbidden knowledge that would be best kept away from prying ears.

"Also, it makes her know where you are at all times. Now that you're marked. She always can find you. You and I, we sort of belong to her."

"I got that much," Sara nodded. Maybe this should have troubled her more than it actually did. "Do you know about this dream stuff?"

"What?" Mark asked, seemingly confused. "What do you mean?"

"You know, where the lady lives. And the stuffed animals and... whatever." She cringed, remembering them.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:10, Wed 31 July 2019.

"Ummm....You're gonna have to be more I dunno. I mean. You gotta say more stuff about it, OK? Or whatever it is you're talking about. I'm not like, a tel..telik...telicka-genesis, OK?" the boy explained to Sara.  "I don't know what a dream lady is. Or what a dream lady has to do with animals."

He seemed to consider Sara's description for a second, as if trying to work his way through what she was saying.

"You mean like a zoo?"

Sara hissed. "Never mind, you don't know. Okay, what about the monster that was around here? The one that gave kids homework?"

Mark flinched at Sara's hiss, his neck receding backwards as if he was trying to dodge an actual punch to the face. Then he regained his composure and spoke.

"Griffix." Mark said simply. "Griffix was a monster but he isn't around anymore. Because another monster destroyed him. Griffix was from the Circus. The evil Circus. Has anyone told you about that? The evil Circus?"

"No?" At least, Sara didn't seem to remember anything like that... The last few days were a bit of a blur. "And who destroyed him?" She kinda liked Griffix.

"A Puppet." Mark told Sara. "A Puppet named 'Mr. Clayton.' He's one of those puppets that adults use when the puppet talks for them, and the adult's lips aren't supposed to move so it looks like the puppet is talking even though the adult has their hand up the puppet's back the entire time."


"Anyway, the Evil Circus came about, as it always does. The problem is that there's like this protective shield around this world. And like, its just thin in some areas. And the shield just kind of protects this world from other spirit worlds. And so if a lot of people do a lot of bad things, especially in some areas, then the shield gets thinner. So anyway, when it gets real thin, then spirits and things from other worlds can pass through. And that's how the Evil Circus got here. It shows up when the shield thins. Whenever it shows up, its trying to take souls from around here. Mostly kids souls. And when the Evil Circus shows up, it has like, monsters that work for it. Griffix was one of those monsters. And sometimes the monsters fight with each other to see who is going to be king monster."

"But no one can really be King Monster, do you know why?"

"No, I don't," Sara admits, frowning. "Why?"

"Because the Proprietor owns the Circus, not the Monsters. So it's like, he's the underground evil creature that runs everything. So whoever becomes king monster ends up working for him, since it's his evil Circus."

"You've heard of the Proprietor, haven't you?"

Sara scratched her head. "I don't think I did... So wait, is there a king monster now?"

 "The Tattooed Lady said that he goes by other names. But it isn’t safe to say what the names are. Just saying them might kind of bring him more to life. I dunno what she meant by that. ”

"Say, are you planning on getting more tattoos from her. Do you, trust her?”" Mark asked
This message was last edited by the player at 15:46, Mon 12 Aug 2019.

"Prop... No, no I haven't," Sara says, shaking her head irritably.

“But do you trust the tattooed lady?” Mark asked in a low, conspiratorial tone. In the background, the radio was blasting a loud, jazzy crescendo.

Sara raises an eyebrow exaggeratedly. "Sure, I guess? When you're that powerful, you don't need to lie. Do you?"

Mark reached his hand behind his back, slowly, slowly, as if he had something behind there and was about to pull it out....
“hmmmmm...I don’t know if I trust these ‘things.’ I’m not sure they are god. But I feel like I do not have a choice....”

It looked like Mark’s hands had clutched whatever was behind there, ready to pull out....

"What is it?" Sara asked sharply, frowning.

Mark flinched when Sara spoke sharply, causing him to fumble whatever he was about to pull out from behind his back. It fell onto the ground next to one of the old tires.

Mark stared down at it
“It’s Bubble-licious bubble gum. Want some?”

"Euch, no," Sara cringed, then gave the kid a suspicious look. Why did he keep trying to give her stuff? "So how did you end up working for her?"

Mark swung his feet back and forth against the tire. He placed two or three pieces of bubble gum in his mouth and started to chew.

"I'm not from here. But there was a big monster where I'm from. I'm from Minnesota. Anyway, the big bad monster came in the snow. And we were having a big snow fight. And it came and it ate everyone....."

Mark paused for a long while as the jazz music played. It was like the telling of the story or hearing his own voice tell it was taking a lot out of him. Finally he said one word:

"Cherrywinks"

Sara blinked. Did that mean anything to her...? "What, the pastry?"

"No. What?" Mark asked, surprised. He looked like he was about to answer somehow, or try to say something that would further clarify what Cherrywinks was. Instead, Sara's response seemed to distract him. "Oh. You got a snack you want to share? Is it one of those apple pies?"

"No," she frowned, again. But she checked just in case. She didn't have any snacks on her, right? "Cherrywinks have cherries in them. Duh." At least, she assumed those were cherries.

"Shhhhhhhhhh!" Mark hissed at Sara, the first time she had seen something resembling anger come from the boy.

"Don't say his name!!!! He might hear. You...you don't know if he is watching." Mark nearly shouted, even though that was exactly what Mark had done just moments before and even he said the radio would block everything out.

The boy started to fidget his hands together in a nervous twitch.

Sara gives him a skeptical look, tilting her head. "So, what, he hears it every time people talk about the cookies? That's dumb."

"Cookies?" Mark asked, the anger all leaking out of him as Sara spoke the word. "You've got cookies and apple pastries?"

The look on his face was that of a kid who had just hit the jack pot or found a good luck penny or some kind of four leaf clover.

Urgh, another dumb kid. It's like she was a magnet. The adults weren't any better either. "Tell me about the monster," she said, after a melodramatic sigh.

“Cherryw.......”

Mark caught himself before finishing the name. “He is the oldest and worst of the bad monsters in the Evil Circus. When he comes around, it’s to capture kids. Then he sucks the souls out of their bodies and dumps their bones in an old cave.”

"Didn't do that to you, though," Sara ventured.

Mark continued with his story, though now his voice took on a low, distant and reflective tone:

“I got away. But it wasn’t easy. We were in the snow. We just...we were building snow forts. That’s when it happened. A big storm. Big like just in the movies. Or like in a big important movie. But then the movie became a scary movie, like when you can’t see it because you aren’t allowed. Big kids can see some scary movies but small kids can’t. And medium kids or like, kids that aren’t big or small. They can see stuff sometimes but then they are told to cover their eyes during the scary parts.”

Mark finished. But then, as if remembering he had forgotten to say something added.

“I got away. Because in the storm, The Tattooed Lady came, and I told her I could help her. And she said. Ok. But you know what? I think there are two others here who got away. Two kids came here. I got to find them. One is named Shawn. The other is named Delilah.”

That Shawn? And that Delilah? Huh... "Wait, help her do what?"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:53, Thu 22 Aug 2019.

“I didn’t want to help her!!!! I didn’t want to!!!! But Mr. Cherryw..... the Clown. He was killing and killing the kids. And there was a storm. And we were all trapped. And the bad clown was coming!!! And there was no way out! I had to do it! I had to help her. It’s not my fault!!!” Mark said, not providing any further details to what he had helped with.

"And Delilah and Shawn, are they helping her too?" Sara questioned him, ignoring his clear agitation.

Mark wipes some tears from his eyes with his forearm. Then he sniffled as Louis Armstrong’s A Kiss To Build A Dream On played through a long, static interlude on the radio.

“What?” Mark asked Sara. It was clear he had been caught up reacting to whatever emotion he was feeling and hadn’t really heard what Sara has said.

"Never mind," Sara said. He probably didn't know either way, if he was looking for them. But... Shawn knew things. It had to be that Shawn. Right?

"Okay, so... what do we do now?"

Mark shrugged and wiped the back of his forearm with his hand. Then he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, clearing up the remaining tears.

He sighed. "The Tattooed Lady, she wants to find out what happened to the Circus. Find how they did it. How that Puppet destroyed it. She wants to make sure that she gets to destroy the Puppet before it destroys everything. And she wants you find out the information."

"That's what she said to me." Mark added.

"It destroyed the whole circus?" Sara's eyes widened. This seemed rather more dramatic than destroying one monster. Then again, she hadn't heard about the circus until now...

"Yeah." Mark confirmed. "This Puppet thing destroyed it all. Now the rest of these Monsters like the Tattooed Lady are all kind of running around, trying to find a way to get the Puppet before it gets the rest of them. I don't know how many Circus Monsters there are left. Maybe the Tattooed Lady and then Mr. Cherry....." Mark stopped, covering his mouth before he could say the Clown's name.

"So what happens if she dies?"

"I dunno." Mark said. "But it'll never happen. She's tall. And she's got magic." Mark was fidgeting at his sleeves now nervously.

"But sometimes I wonder if she just, I dunno, went away, then maybe I could be a kid again. Maybe go back to Minnesota."

Sara pondered the answer quietly, rubbing her chin. The Lady wanted her to do this. Couldn't and wouldn't do it herself or use Mark instead. It felt kind of nice. Still... "Okay... And what's in it for us?"

"Nothing." Mark said. "Nothing at all. I guess I've just been doing it because I'm afraid. Though the Tattooed Lady said that there are special tattoos. The one I have, it doesn't hurt my hand anymore."

"Still, I don't want it." He sniffed a little.

"I don't want ugly tattoos all over like her. I don't care if my whole body can never be hurt!" He said, and then he started to cry.

Sara sighed. So stupid. And why was the Lady using kids, anyway? Wouldn't someone like that cop have been better? But... whatever, it wasn't like she had any choice right now, what with the tattoo and all. "Hey," she called out, irritably, "stop that. What do we do next?"

It took a bit for Mark to stop crying. When he did, he touched his eyes with the back of his sleeve. Then he said:

"What? You..you're gonna do what she says right? You're gonna go investigate and find out about the Puppet and how to stop it?"

"She said to start with the kid Shawn. And then another kid named Delilah."

"She said that they might know about the Puppet. Where it is and how to stop it."

"I think Delilah's dead," Sara said flatly. If it was that Delilah. And if she was dead - it was a little hard to be sure. She paused. It was... kind of creepy, what happened. But, she didn't really know her or anything... "What did she look like? And Shawn?"

"What!?" Mark said, astonished. He appeared unprepared for this information. He didn't answer Sara's question. Instead, he got carried away from the emotion or perhaps the implications of what Sara said. He was no longer focused on Sara's question.

"What?" He repeated, this time not as loud. The music from the radio continued to play.

Sara rolled her eyes dismissively. "I met a blonde girl named Delilah a few days back. She just... fell and died all of a sudden while we were waiting for ice cream. At least I think she died," she mused. "Didn't really check. What, were you friends or something?"

"Ughh." Mark groaned. "Ughhghghghhhhhggg." It was a mix between a groan and cry now. Or maybe a weep. His eyes welled up with tears but he managed to keep control of it.

"Wh....what about Shawn?" He croaked, voice squeaking. "She....sh..she's gonna want to know ab...about one of them. If we don't tell her something or show something...she's gonna be mad." Mark said, clearly referring to the Tattooed Lady.

"Yeah, I know Shawn," Sara's face darkened. Okay, it had to be that Shawn, right? "Leave him to me. Though, what if he doesn't know...?"

Mark thought about this possibility for a second. "Ummm." Mark said. "If he doesn't know, then wait for the light again and follow it to me." He said, one hand on his chin in a thinking posture


"Then we'll come up with a new plan. How does that sound?"

Or maybe the Lady would eat them for their failure before they could come up with anything. Sara shifted from one foot to another. "Fine, I guess. What now?"
This message was last edited by the player at 09:52, Sat 07 Sept 2019.

"I mean....I thought." Mark said. "I thought we just said what was gonna happen." He said, looking at Sara.

"Why, you don't want to do that? I mean, you don't want to do what she told me to tell you to do? Because if you don't do it, it might not be a good idea. I mean, for both of us. It's not just you. She's expecting you to do it. And I'll probably get in trouble too if you don't."

"I mean, I thought there'd be..." Sara shook her head. "Fine, never mind. I'll start looking for Shawn."

"Alright." Mark said. "But be careful. You don't know. He might be dangerous. Shawn I mean. I think he actually is dangerous. It's possible that he's in with the Puppet."

"Yeah, right," Sara rolled her eyes. "So, we're done here."

"I think so." Mark said. "So. How does this work? I guess I'll just turn off the radio." His little hands moved toward the radio which was playing jazz music. Then he turned the nob and suddenly it was off, leaving the two kids in the dark. The loud chirping of the Fall crickets sounding really loud in the still of night.

"How will I find you? Follow the light again?" Sara asked.

"That's right." Mark said in a loud whisper. He kicked his two feet up off the tire and landed almost soundlessly in the dirt. "You've got to follow the light. When you see a light late at night, follow it. It's probably me."

"Okay..." Sara frowned, starting to walk away. She wasn't looking forward to returning to Dad. Though it seemed strange to even care about that while dealing with all this monster business.

Sara joins thread

Sara: Dreaming...

And

in other game:

Sara: The Kids From Rodeo Drive

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