"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."