Encounterlogs
Justins Odd Encounter Sr Crystal 240905
In the dimming light of dusk in the coastal town of Haven, at the crossroads of Sheriff's Run, Hanging Hill, and Cemetery Lane, Justin finds himself embroiled in a harrowing tale of kidnapping and dark dealings. Tasked with locating the missing daughter of a local shop owner, Justin's investigation leads him to the doorstep of danger and deceit. The truth unfolds as Justin learns that the girl was not simply a victim of a random act but was abducted by the notorious group known as The Golden Shadow, on behalf of a rival businessman aiming to leverage her safety for control over her father's business. An odd encounter in the graveyard of Arkwright Cemetery with Randy, the distressed father armed and determined, sets the stage for their uneasy alliance. As darkness encroaches, Justin and Randy, driven by a mix of desperation and cautious hope, decide to confront the threatening shadows lying in wait.
Their investigation propels them toward confrontation and the untangling of a sinister plot nestled within Haven's seemingly tranquil embrace. The duo's relentless pursuit leads them to a confrontation with a shadow-veiled mercenary, revealing the grim reality that the young girl's life hangs by a mere thread, existing now only within the nightmarish margins of reality. Through cunning, courage, and a dive into the depths of an eerie nightmare realm, Justin manages to locate and retrieve the frail figure of the kidnapped girl, igniting a beacon of faint but fervent hope. The narrative concludes with a rush against time as Justin and Randy, united by a shared ordeal, hasten to bring the girl to the salvation of medical care, leaving behind the darkened alleys and concealed evils of Haven. Their journey, marked by peril and profound revelations, ends with a fragile peace, as the girl makes a slow recovery, and the shadow of The Golden Shadow recedes, if only momentarily, from the heart of Haven.
(Justin's odd encounter(SRCrystal):SRCrystal)
[Wed Sep 4 2024]
At Sheriff's Run, Hanging Hill, and Cemetery Lane
It is dusk, about 79F(26C) degrees,
(Your target and their allies receive a seemingly innocent request for help from a local shop owner. The owner's daughter has been kidnapped, and the local authorities are unresponsive. As your group dives deeper into the mystery, they discover that the girl was not taken by some random thug but was instead kidnapped by The Golden Shadow. The group was hired by a rival business owner who intends to use the girl as leverage to take over her father's business. Now, your group must decide how to handle this delicate situation. Do they attempt to negotiate with the shadowy mercenaries, confront them directly, or try to outwit them and rescue the girl without them ever knowing your group was involved?)
With the sun starting to tire, it seems intent on readying Haven for bed, making its slow descent down the horizon, seeking out the moon to trade places as dusk begins to settle over the sleepy coastal town. It was much cooler during the day, but the ever reliable Sol made sure that while Summer was singing its swan song for the year, it'd give the town some last minute summer vibes. How long that would last is up in the air, and we find our subject of the story At Sheriff's Run, near the cemetery where the grave stones stand stoicly like an arrayed host of soldiers sieging a fortress. What is our intrepid, potential hero up to this near evening?
Justin gathered some fresh air amidst the tombstones of Arkwright Cemetery, coming down off the hill with the graveyard's grass sticking in the treads of his boots. He was writing down some names that were interesting to him - that had stood out, that had particularly old headstones, or those bearing last names of families that were familiar to him. But with the sun setting, he had no intention to linger with the ghosts. So he descended the hill, back to his car lingering in the parking spaces alongside the road.
Not bothering to mask his or her approach, a lone figure comes trudging from across the field, the scuff of their weathered, reliable boots disturbing the loose earth with a stolid purpose. The figure's hands were stuffed in its pockets, and it seemed to know the writing on the wall regarding the change of seasons. Despite the heat, it appeared it was dressed for right for a foray into the wilds.
Growing closer and closer, it might become more apparent to Justin that this figure seemed like a burly sort, definitely looking like a male figure. He had the quintessential frontier type about him with that long overcoat, sturdy denims, heavy tracking boots, and a large pack slung over his shoulder, carrying a long case that some might recognize as a rifle case. The lean silhoutte, eyes closed by the ssun, but sharp as a hawk. He had the look of both predator and prey, and he diverted his weary stride in Justin's direction once he spotted him in the cemetery.
perks up his attention from the last visual scrape of his notebook, noticing the figure coming his way. If anything, the rifle case slung over the stranger's shoulder made Justin relax after first contact. He upnods the other guy. "Let me guess. Game warden?" he takes a stab in the dark at identifying the man. "Hey, this isn't about those gunshots in the woods, is it? I mean, this town has a serious rat problem."
It's likely that Justin wasn't here in town for so long, anyone worth their salt and in the know in Haven would immediately recognize that upon some scrutiny on his person. He just had that aura about him. Whether this stranger recognized that is hard to tell, and if he knew, he didn't mention it. His solid pace came to a crawl, and then a stop a few steps from the other man, stopping by a large ornate headstone. He took a moment to pay his respects, recognizing the fallen Reeve sheriff, and perhaps knew him once upon a time. After that respectful gesture, he put that wide brimmed hat back over his brow and looked Justin square in the eye. Many locals would recognize this man as a local business owner of a gunshop downtown, across the Franklin. Wordlessly, he held up a photo of a young girl who was pretty, but also shared the severe, ruddy features of the man. "Looking for my daughter," he's curt and cuts right to the chase. Flyers of the missing girl have cropped up all over Haven, and he even took the painstaking dedication to learn how to work social media in the hopes of finding leads on his recently missing girl. With Justin's associations, he might have even gotten alerts, with probable suspects lending to the syndicate or even the Golden Shadow. "Heard anything, stranger?" he queries, thick brow lofting expectantly.
Justin turns serious when the stranger shows a picture of his progeny. He studies the young girl's face, and stands there for a moment to rake his brain - test his memory. Truthfully, he was lying through his teeth. "No, I can't say I have. I've seen the posters around..." he falters, motioning up towards Haven's historic downtown. "If I see anything, I'll give you a call," is Justin's earnest promise to the man: seeing as that's something Justin can do to provide the slightest solace in the stranger's chaos. And then-- Justin hesitates. "Do you have any idea on where she'd be? Who she would go to?"
While they stood there talking, Justin glances down to his phone. Maybe the stranger would peg him as a screen-addicted terminally online phone slave; but in actuality, Justin was double-checking the earlier reports from his associates about the Syndicate, or the Golden Shadow's recent activities.
Mister frontiersman and reputable businessman chews on something in his mouth. Solidly, like a cow chewing on cud. Impassive, his eyes look Justin up and down, then down and up, taking stock of his very being. His bright eyes linger on the wristwatch hanging onto his wrist. Then the staring contest begins anew. "I have my suspicions. I was headed down this way here to pay someone a visit." Lugging the rifle case held under his left hand, he gestures over to the forest at Justin's back. Recognizing Justin's affiliations, his voice takes on a more hopeful, yet pleading tone. "Could use a hand. Just in case. I'd be willing to give you a pick of my collection once this is all sorted out," he offers generously, tapping at the badge affixed to the lapel of his coat. Some sort of gun range many might know near the town hall of Haven. Unprompted, he steps in closer, growling into Justin's ear. "Has something to do with that jackass Reeds, I just know it." Whoever Reeds was, he must be cooped up somewhere in the inner forest, or beyond.
Justin weighs the stranger's intensity: undoubtedly, there's something in the man's mission to find his daughter that demands Justin's respect. He opens the truck of his car with a press of his fob, pulling out his own long-arm-- and, after checking that he's got a couple magazines to spare, Justin slips on his vest. "I'm not going to let you go and check alone, sir," he says with a smirk. "Lead the way." He throws open the passenger side door of his car, offering to give the searching man a lift to the hunch's locale.
"Atta boy," SRCrystal says, backing away from Justin's personal space. The Orderite's willingness to help him out gives reason for his spirits to lift. His eyes even crinkle in approval, a near smile starting to play along his thin lips. Like Justin, he came packing, and under hat heavy coat he has some body armour to boot. He means business, or he might just be planning to rob someone out of the way in town. That missing flyer for a young girl seems legitimate, at the least. Rounding about the car, he stoops inside and shuts the passenger, not bothering to buckle up, instead pointing to the forest trail. "Down the track. Straight ahead. Can't miss it, it's the only eyesore of a building in that trek before we hit the residential area." Drumming his fingers along the dashboard anxiously, he then offers up a name. "You can call me Randy. If you stay in town long enough, I think you and I will get along just fine."
"Justin." Justin shares his name with Randy; and then turns down the road, heading into the darkening shadows of Haven's southern forest. It's not long that every bump in the road is felt from the sedan's dirt-trail navigation, that Justin starts looking for the place on the the roadside. While he drives along, Justin drums his fingers against the steering wheel. He's getting ready for anything.
Randy merely gives a grunt of acknowledgment after a proper introduction is made between them, curt as it is. His mind is settled on something else right now, his brow tensed in concentration as he watches the trail rolling before his eyes like a hawk. Like his companion, he's in a state of focus, readying himself for what's to come. It doesn't take long for a tall building to come into view. "That's it," he says, just in case. But it's obvious this is the place. It's a convenience store with an added souvenir shop meant to attract tourists that visit Haven. A large tract of land has been cleared for more buildings and establishments to open, all by the corporation Joja that has taken an obsessive interest with expanding into Haven.
Randall already has his fingers into the door mechanism of the passenger door, ready to step out once the car engine stops.
Justin rolls the wheels to a stop, and then is out and before the building, sizing it up. The shadows drawing long in the evening's fall might yield to his squinting, but only barely. "I don't think she would be lost in the front of the store," he wagers aside to Randy. "How about we try the back?" After all, looking through windows isn't a crime -- unless he gets caught.
The man in the wide-brimmed hat is so laser focused on that building it takes him a small delay before he utters back a slightly confused, "Huh?" Then followed by, "Right. That shouldn't be a problem. She's been missing for only a few days. Far too long for a little girl to be missing, but I really didn't know where to start," he confesses, needlessly pouring his heart out with justifications onto Justin.
Despite the building looking brand new, it looks like there's hardly any foot traffic here. Once those residential neighborhoods nearby open up, that might be a different story. For now, it looks like it's just Justin and the troubled businessman who have the lot to themselves. The lights aren't even on inside. "Let's get to it then," he urges, already making his way beyond the lot to case the place for a back door.
Justin leads the way into the back part of the commercial property, scoping the building's facade for any windows, doors, access points of a third kind. He pulls out a flashlight from his jacket pocket, shining a light around -- seeing if anything in the alley will spook at the sudden arrival of a beam of light. This being Haven, one can never tell what will jump out of the shadows. "It's hard to fault a father's instinct," Justin murmurs out of the corner of his mouth to Randy. "Sometimes, you have to go with your gut."
Just a ragged old black cat. It yowls, or tries to, but it's battle-hardened days has taken a toll on its pipes. It just makes a feeble crack of a noise. The horrifying noise of a hairball ready to be lodged out. Fortunately, it bolts before that happens, sparing Justin and Randy the worst of it. Randy follows suit, peeking through the windows. He has to step on a plastic egg crate to peer into the glass, but no dice. They're all boarded up. "Nothing," he says, frustrated, but not out of it yet. The door is next, he works at the handle, but to no one's surprise, it's locked. The only activity that he might have missed is a sensory camera that follows their moves, posted between the ground and first floor above the door.
For a dark alley with boarded-up windows and a locked door, that camera really stands out to Justin. He looks down at his wrist watch, where a subtle Nightmare charm is laced in the clock's timepiece. "I'll be right back, Randy," Justin figures: then in the blink of an eye, just as the cold breeze cuts down the alley, Justin enters the other side. He moves towards the wall of dream-stuff, hoping to pass through it and pilfer about inside.
It's just crates upon crates upon crates, stacked upon each other in this back room used as a warehouse. If Justin were to investigate, he'd find that the store is fronting a lot of knick knacks of dubious origins. Souvenirs for the tourists of Haven. Yet in the nightmare, they're nightmarish. Exuding an aura of malice. Inside, there's someone in the nightmare with Justin. Except he's leaning against one of those crates, eyes dipped, next to a door that's shut. He's slacking off, having dozed off long before Justin or Randy arrived at the property. Like all of his fellows, he sports an insignia that they wear to identify each other. A Golden Shadow merc. Outside the nightmare though, a reedy little man is waddling around, checking the inventory and looking pleased as can be. Business seems to be up to a promising start for the Joja operative looking to jam his thumb into the local businesses of Haven.
Justin holds his breath, careful not to awaken the shadow mercenary that's dreaming in the Nightmare. The twisted sight of the real trinkets and dolls on the wall cause his hair to stand on end. He follows behind the reedy store clerk for a time, judging the man that's bustling about in the shop. If there's nothing conspicuous, the nightmare-bound bounty hunter will start poking his boots through the floor tiles: testing for a basement, or a hidden wall in the building's construction.
Nightmarish as it is, the twisted dreamscape that Justin traverses hides many things. His surroundings roil around him, ethereal spectres with no mind of their own reach out to him desperately, yearning to drag them into the pit of nothingness that they inhabit. Yet there is a hole that only exists in the nightmare that just about beckons to a curious mind, to investigate.
From beyond the nightmare, some muffled voices start to sound out. It seems Randy has grown impatient and has been banging on that door. The reedy man with the Joja nametag skips over to peek through the door, then opens it, confronting the worried businessman with a smarmy smile, offloading insincere platitudes that only stoke the father's anger. Both know that Sanctuary is at play here, so the Joja man is confident in pushing buttons. That gives Justin some relief to investigate at his own leisure, as the mercenary has stirred, but now he watches the show without a care in the world, distracted.
Subtly tugging out of the reach of the hands of bad dreams, Justin raises his rifle and and draws a bead on the supernatural mercenary sharing his space. He hopes to catch the other man by surprise when he breaks the silence in the room: "Kidnap anybody recently?" Justin peeks out of the corner of his eyes at Randy's attempt to make contact with the store clerk, hoping that things don't go cross in the Real.
That Golden Mercenary doesn't have the luxury of his associate barking at Randy. He stiffens to attention, but the sound of Justin toting something from behind convinces him to stay right as he is. He knows in the nightmare they play by a different set of rules. Especially in his case. He's red. He did something exciting or extremely shitty. "Is that you, Fray?" he plays at, even if he knows for a fact that that isn't his comrade's voice. It's a rookie mistake, he either outed his friend or he's bluffing that he's not the only one here. Either way, he holds his hands up disarmingly, the rifle slung across his chest dangling at the strap.
"Nope." Justin doesn't have much patience for the Mercenary's guessing game. "Fray's not around. Hands on your head, and you live." It's an Orderite's promise: maybe it has some weight in the supernatural circles. Justin slowly approaches, pulling a set of handcuffs from his vest, readying them to put on the merc if he cooperates. "I'm here asking about a young lady. You've got one chance to make things right," he bluffs. Of course, Justin couldn't prove that the girl was here, or even if she still is here.
Complying, the merc covered in tactical gear slides his hands over the back of his head. Then showing that he knows the name of the game, he drops to his knees. He already has a sense of what Justin's here for. "She's already dead. Not by our hands though. Take it up with the loud mouth," he urges, advocating for his release. Loud mouth is being just as the mercenary said, voice raised to draw the ire of the man looking for his daughter, presumably dead. "Our job's done here anyway. We don't have any more stake in this."
Justin slaps the cuffs on the merc, content to trust those steel wrist-binds -- for now. "Where is she?" the bounty hunter insists, his teeth grinding at the revelation that the missing girl might not be found whole. He glances around, seeking for a reflective surface in the shop front that could be used as a way to blink back to the Real.
Naturally, the merc tests the bonds of his restraints. He can't get out of it of course, but the discomfort has him working at it briefly. Some guilt coloring his demeanor, he jerks his head to the left. A doorway glowing a reddish hue pulses as if to beckon Justin, outing itself as the portal leading to the missing girl. "Good as dead anyway," he revises, shifting with discomfort. He didn't pack knee pads, and the floor isn't very accommodating to the middle-aged man's knees. "You can get her out, but there's a visitor in town who likes his meals extra innocent, if you catch my meaning." He's being pretty talkative, informative even, probably to buy the good graces from Justin.
Hesitant, Justin creeps through the Shroud of the shop on his way to the ominously reddish door that the mercenary pointed out. He double-checks his equipment: "I left my stake in the car," he comments over his shoulder to the merc, his captive audience. There's a moment where he considers reaching out and bringing Randy along; but the conversation going on in the Real makes him decide against bringing the clerk in on things. With a nerve-steeling breath, Justin moves to open the reddish door -- and peek inside.
There's some shoving going on outside of the nightmare. Randy has pushed the reddy little man against a wall, who isn't exactly smiling right now. He caught a left hook, and that's never fun. He's holding his hands up, looking very confused, eyes darting here and there, probably waiting for the cuffed mercenary to emerge and bash Randy in the back of the head. Or even shoot him down.
Through that red portal, there's a room. It's dark, but the nightmare offers a glimpse into the darkness pervading reality. There's a small, frail figure on the ground. Still as death, she's sprawled, one hand reaching out for the comfort that was never there. She might be alive, but from his perspective, it's very hard to tell. What's clear is this is one of those rooms that are only accessed through the nightmare.
Justin moves through and into the reddish pit, leaving Randy to extract information from the clerk in a more contemporary style. The bounty hunter flags the four corners of the Nightmarish room with the barrel of his M4; but with no targets emerging, he lets the rifle drop to its sling. Then, he, too, is dropping to his knee -- checking on the still, frail figure, seeing if she's breathing. If she's lost too much blood.
Dropping into the room without any apparent doors in reality is just about like dropping in on a boss battle. No music plays, nor does a foreboding figure emerge as the seconds turn to minutes. It's just the small, frail girl that has the slight likeness of her rugged father, but seems to harbour more traits to someone else. Her mother, more likely.
Her eyes are shut, and she's lacking the vim of life in her complexion. Yet a mote of hope does linger in the depths of this depraved situation. She is breathing.
Justin scoops the helpless woman up in his arms, bracing to lift her up. His arm slips under her knees, and the other finds support in the small of the back. "Let's get you out of here," he whispers - as if reluctant to disturb the eerie stillness of the room. If he can, he heads to Randy - even if that means interrupting the searching father's conversation with the clerk at this point.
Nothing emerges to confront Justin, as anti-climatic as it is. Whoever had drained the young woman has been gone for a time, having had its fill of her life force, to the point of excess. She's on death's bed. But not lost yet. She has a fighting chance. Once Justin emerges out into the space used as a warehouse, a scene unfolds where Randy stands over a quavering little man, holding his hands over his face protectively. Randy's rolling up his sleeves, having abandoned any reason, preferring to wield the sword of retribution instead. It was Justin that found the missing daughter, but he had already assumed who was to blame for all this. He doesn't even register the presence of Justin and his daughter. He's ready to send this man to a clinic in the worst condition possible.
The girl isn't a burden in Justin's arms -- he stands there, casting a shadow in the storefront, where he hadn't been before the last blink of an eye. "Randy. Randy!" Justin calls, trying to draw the local father back to sense. "Here she is." He recognizes her from the photos. "Come on, sir. We've got to get her to the hospital." Justin narrows his eyes vindictively at the battered clerk. "You can always catch this asshole later."
Emotion comes in waves as Randy turns to regard Justin, and the frail, delicate woman in his arms. He swallows hard, holding back the tears that fight their way through his tear ducts. It's easy to hold the rest back when he glowers down at the reedy little clerk. "You and I aren't finished," he promises, affirming Justin's words. To ensure that, he binds the man's hands behind his back, then bashes him in the temple with the butt of his rifle, knocking him out cold. He strides away from him, content to leave him there while he tends to far more important matters.
"Jesus," he utters, just about falling to his knees, but he holds his composure well and grabs Justin by the shoulder, shaking his head. "I think I owe you a beer," is all he can really muster to express his gratitude.
With the tempo of his footsteps out of the storefront betraying his urgency, Justin carries Randy's daughter, and lends his shoulder to Randy. If they're unchallenged, they're in the car -- the girl on the back seat -- and then they're on the road, heading to the hospital on the other side of Haven. "I'll take up that beer anytime," Justin makes small talk on the drive over; but his eyes dart to the rear-view, checking on the precious cargo in the back seat.
Unchallenged, which might come as a surprise. The Golden Shadow mercenary has turned tail the moment Justin went after the troubled businessman's daughter. He could have came back to hinder Justin and Randy, but it's like he said, his stake has long been gone here after their contract was just about over. The Joja agent was left to fend for himself.
"Beer and whatever the hell takes your fancy at my range," he promises, restraining himself from enveloping his daughter with his worries. He'll wait for the medical experts to look her over.
The story concludes for now. Justin will probably be heartened to hear that the young woman pulled through and is making a slow recovery outside the township of Haven. The reedy clerk that had a promising start in taking a large stake of the business was rumored to have suddenly skipped town, and there is already talk that the plots of land the controversial Joja corporation bought was abandoned. As for Randy, with his daughter recovered, he never was the same man again, paranoid and suspicious of many new faces that came to his shooting range. Save for Justin, who he has held to an earned esteem, offering him discounts and freebies whenever he came across the Orderite.
Their investigation propels them toward confrontation and the untangling of a sinister plot nestled within Haven's seemingly tranquil embrace. The duo's relentless pursuit leads them to a confrontation with a shadow-veiled mercenary, revealing the grim reality that the young girl's life hangs by a mere thread, existing now only within the nightmarish margins of reality. Through cunning, courage, and a dive into the depths of an eerie nightmare realm, Justin manages to locate and retrieve the frail figure of the kidnapped girl, igniting a beacon of faint but fervent hope. The narrative concludes with a rush against time as Justin and Randy, united by a shared ordeal, hasten to bring the girl to the salvation of medical care, leaving behind the darkened alleys and concealed evils of Haven. Their journey, marked by peril and profound revelations, ends with a fragile peace, as the girl makes a slow recovery, and the shadow of The Golden Shadow recedes, if only momentarily, from the heart of Haven.
(Justin's odd encounter(SRCrystal):SRCrystal)
[Wed Sep 4 2024]
At Sheriff's Run, Hanging Hill, and Cemetery Lane
It is dusk, about 79F(26C) degrees,
(Your target and their allies receive a seemingly innocent request for help from a local shop owner. The owner's daughter has been kidnapped, and the local authorities are unresponsive. As your group dives deeper into the mystery, they discover that the girl was not taken by some random thug but was instead kidnapped by The Golden Shadow. The group was hired by a rival business owner who intends to use the girl as leverage to take over her father's business. Now, your group must decide how to handle this delicate situation. Do they attempt to negotiate with the shadowy mercenaries, confront them directly, or try to outwit them and rescue the girl without them ever knowing your group was involved?)
With the sun starting to tire, it seems intent on readying Haven for bed, making its slow descent down the horizon, seeking out the moon to trade places as dusk begins to settle over the sleepy coastal town. It was much cooler during the day, but the ever reliable Sol made sure that while Summer was singing its swan song for the year, it'd give the town some last minute summer vibes. How long that would last is up in the air, and we find our subject of the story At Sheriff's Run, near the cemetery where the grave stones stand stoicly like an arrayed host of soldiers sieging a fortress. What is our intrepid, potential hero up to this near evening?
Justin gathered some fresh air amidst the tombstones of Arkwright Cemetery, coming down off the hill with the graveyard's grass sticking in the treads of his boots. He was writing down some names that were interesting to him - that had stood out, that had particularly old headstones, or those bearing last names of families that were familiar to him. But with the sun setting, he had no intention to linger with the ghosts. So he descended the hill, back to his car lingering in the parking spaces alongside the road.
Not bothering to mask his or her approach, a lone figure comes trudging from across the field, the scuff of their weathered, reliable boots disturbing the loose earth with a stolid purpose. The figure's hands were stuffed in its pockets, and it seemed to know the writing on the wall regarding the change of seasons. Despite the heat, it appeared it was dressed for right for a foray into the wilds.
Growing closer and closer, it might become more apparent to Justin that this figure seemed like a burly sort, definitely looking like a male figure. He had the quintessential frontier type about him with that long overcoat, sturdy denims, heavy tracking boots, and a large pack slung over his shoulder, carrying a long case that some might recognize as a rifle case. The lean silhoutte, eyes closed by the ssun, but sharp as a hawk. He had the look of both predator and prey, and he diverted his weary stride in Justin's direction once he spotted him in the cemetery.
perks up his attention from the last visual scrape of his notebook, noticing the figure coming his way. If anything, the rifle case slung over the stranger's shoulder made Justin relax after first contact. He upnods the other guy. "Let me guess. Game warden?" he takes a stab in the dark at identifying the man. "Hey, this isn't about those gunshots in the woods, is it? I mean, this town has a serious rat problem."
It's likely that Justin wasn't here in town for so long, anyone worth their salt and in the know in Haven would immediately recognize that upon some scrutiny on his person. He just had that aura about him. Whether this stranger recognized that is hard to tell, and if he knew, he didn't mention it. His solid pace came to a crawl, and then a stop a few steps from the other man, stopping by a large ornate headstone. He took a moment to pay his respects, recognizing the fallen Reeve sheriff, and perhaps knew him once upon a time. After that respectful gesture, he put that wide brimmed hat back over his brow and looked Justin square in the eye. Many locals would recognize this man as a local business owner of a gunshop downtown, across the Franklin. Wordlessly, he held up a photo of a young girl who was pretty, but also shared the severe, ruddy features of the man. "Looking for my daughter," he's curt and cuts right to the chase. Flyers of the missing girl have cropped up all over Haven, and he even took the painstaking dedication to learn how to work social media in the hopes of finding leads on his recently missing girl. With Justin's associations, he might have even gotten alerts, with probable suspects lending to the syndicate or even the Golden Shadow. "Heard anything, stranger?" he queries, thick brow lofting expectantly.
Justin turns serious when the stranger shows a picture of his progeny. He studies the young girl's face, and stands there for a moment to rake his brain - test his memory. Truthfully, he was lying through his teeth. "No, I can't say I have. I've seen the posters around..." he falters, motioning up towards Haven's historic downtown. "If I see anything, I'll give you a call," is Justin's earnest promise to the man: seeing as that's something Justin can do to provide the slightest solace in the stranger's chaos. And then-- Justin hesitates. "Do you have any idea on where she'd be? Who she would go to?"
While they stood there talking, Justin glances down to his phone. Maybe the stranger would peg him as a screen-addicted terminally online phone slave; but in actuality, Justin was double-checking the earlier reports from his associates about the Syndicate, or the Golden Shadow's recent activities.
Mister frontiersman and reputable businessman chews on something in his mouth. Solidly, like a cow chewing on cud. Impassive, his eyes look Justin up and down, then down and up, taking stock of his very being. His bright eyes linger on the wristwatch hanging onto his wrist. Then the staring contest begins anew. "I have my suspicions. I was headed down this way here to pay someone a visit." Lugging the rifle case held under his left hand, he gestures over to the forest at Justin's back. Recognizing Justin's affiliations, his voice takes on a more hopeful, yet pleading tone. "Could use a hand. Just in case. I'd be willing to give you a pick of my collection once this is all sorted out," he offers generously, tapping at the badge affixed to the lapel of his coat. Some sort of gun range many might know near the town hall of Haven. Unprompted, he steps in closer, growling into Justin's ear. "Has something to do with that jackass Reeds, I just know it." Whoever Reeds was, he must be cooped up somewhere in the inner forest, or beyond.
Justin weighs the stranger's intensity: undoubtedly, there's something in the man's mission to find his daughter that demands Justin's respect. He opens the truck of his car with a press of his fob, pulling out his own long-arm-- and, after checking that he's got a couple magazines to spare, Justin slips on his vest. "I'm not going to let you go and check alone, sir," he says with a smirk. "Lead the way." He throws open the passenger side door of his car, offering to give the searching man a lift to the hunch's locale.
"Atta boy," SRCrystal says, backing away from Justin's personal space. The Orderite's willingness to help him out gives reason for his spirits to lift. His eyes even crinkle in approval, a near smile starting to play along his thin lips. Like Justin, he came packing, and under hat heavy coat he has some body armour to boot. He means business, or he might just be planning to rob someone out of the way in town. That missing flyer for a young girl seems legitimate, at the least. Rounding about the car, he stoops inside and shuts the passenger, not bothering to buckle up, instead pointing to the forest trail. "Down the track. Straight ahead. Can't miss it, it's the only eyesore of a building in that trek before we hit the residential area." Drumming his fingers along the dashboard anxiously, he then offers up a name. "You can call me Randy. If you stay in town long enough, I think you and I will get along just fine."
"Justin." Justin shares his name with Randy; and then turns down the road, heading into the darkening shadows of Haven's southern forest. It's not long that every bump in the road is felt from the sedan's dirt-trail navigation, that Justin starts looking for the place on the the roadside. While he drives along, Justin drums his fingers against the steering wheel. He's getting ready for anything.
Randy merely gives a grunt of acknowledgment after a proper introduction is made between them, curt as it is. His mind is settled on something else right now, his brow tensed in concentration as he watches the trail rolling before his eyes like a hawk. Like his companion, he's in a state of focus, readying himself for what's to come. It doesn't take long for a tall building to come into view. "That's it," he says, just in case. But it's obvious this is the place. It's a convenience store with an added souvenir shop meant to attract tourists that visit Haven. A large tract of land has been cleared for more buildings and establishments to open, all by the corporation Joja that has taken an obsessive interest with expanding into Haven.
Randall already has his fingers into the door mechanism of the passenger door, ready to step out once the car engine stops.
Justin rolls the wheels to a stop, and then is out and before the building, sizing it up. The shadows drawing long in the evening's fall might yield to his squinting, but only barely. "I don't think she would be lost in the front of the store," he wagers aside to Randy. "How about we try the back?" After all, looking through windows isn't a crime -- unless he gets caught.
The man in the wide-brimmed hat is so laser focused on that building it takes him a small delay before he utters back a slightly confused, "Huh?" Then followed by, "Right. That shouldn't be a problem. She's been missing for only a few days. Far too long for a little girl to be missing, but I really didn't know where to start," he confesses, needlessly pouring his heart out with justifications onto Justin.
Despite the building looking brand new, it looks like there's hardly any foot traffic here. Once those residential neighborhoods nearby open up, that might be a different story. For now, it looks like it's just Justin and the troubled businessman who have the lot to themselves. The lights aren't even on inside. "Let's get to it then," he urges, already making his way beyond the lot to case the place for a back door.
Justin leads the way into the back part of the commercial property, scoping the building's facade for any windows, doors, access points of a third kind. He pulls out a flashlight from his jacket pocket, shining a light around -- seeing if anything in the alley will spook at the sudden arrival of a beam of light. This being Haven, one can never tell what will jump out of the shadows. "It's hard to fault a father's instinct," Justin murmurs out of the corner of his mouth to Randy. "Sometimes, you have to go with your gut."
Just a ragged old black cat. It yowls, or tries to, but it's battle-hardened days has taken a toll on its pipes. It just makes a feeble crack of a noise. The horrifying noise of a hairball ready to be lodged out. Fortunately, it bolts before that happens, sparing Justin and Randy the worst of it. Randy follows suit, peeking through the windows. He has to step on a plastic egg crate to peer into the glass, but no dice. They're all boarded up. "Nothing," he says, frustrated, but not out of it yet. The door is next, he works at the handle, but to no one's surprise, it's locked. The only activity that he might have missed is a sensory camera that follows their moves, posted between the ground and first floor above the door.
For a dark alley with boarded-up windows and a locked door, that camera really stands out to Justin. He looks down at his wrist watch, where a subtle Nightmare charm is laced in the clock's timepiece. "I'll be right back, Randy," Justin figures: then in the blink of an eye, just as the cold breeze cuts down the alley, Justin enters the other side. He moves towards the wall of dream-stuff, hoping to pass through it and pilfer about inside.
It's just crates upon crates upon crates, stacked upon each other in this back room used as a warehouse. If Justin were to investigate, he'd find that the store is fronting a lot of knick knacks of dubious origins. Souvenirs for the tourists of Haven. Yet in the nightmare, they're nightmarish. Exuding an aura of malice. Inside, there's someone in the nightmare with Justin. Except he's leaning against one of those crates, eyes dipped, next to a door that's shut. He's slacking off, having dozed off long before Justin or Randy arrived at the property. Like all of his fellows, he sports an insignia that they wear to identify each other. A Golden Shadow merc. Outside the nightmare though, a reedy little man is waddling around, checking the inventory and looking pleased as can be. Business seems to be up to a promising start for the Joja operative looking to jam his thumb into the local businesses of Haven.
Justin holds his breath, careful not to awaken the shadow mercenary that's dreaming in the Nightmare. The twisted sight of the real trinkets and dolls on the wall cause his hair to stand on end. He follows behind the reedy store clerk for a time, judging the man that's bustling about in the shop. If there's nothing conspicuous, the nightmare-bound bounty hunter will start poking his boots through the floor tiles: testing for a basement, or a hidden wall in the building's construction.
Nightmarish as it is, the twisted dreamscape that Justin traverses hides many things. His surroundings roil around him, ethereal spectres with no mind of their own reach out to him desperately, yearning to drag them into the pit of nothingness that they inhabit. Yet there is a hole that only exists in the nightmare that just about beckons to a curious mind, to investigate.
From beyond the nightmare, some muffled voices start to sound out. It seems Randy has grown impatient and has been banging on that door. The reedy man with the Joja nametag skips over to peek through the door, then opens it, confronting the worried businessman with a smarmy smile, offloading insincere platitudes that only stoke the father's anger. Both know that Sanctuary is at play here, so the Joja man is confident in pushing buttons. That gives Justin some relief to investigate at his own leisure, as the mercenary has stirred, but now he watches the show without a care in the world, distracted.
Subtly tugging out of the reach of the hands of bad dreams, Justin raises his rifle and and draws a bead on the supernatural mercenary sharing his space. He hopes to catch the other man by surprise when he breaks the silence in the room: "Kidnap anybody recently?" Justin peeks out of the corner of his eyes at Randy's attempt to make contact with the store clerk, hoping that things don't go cross in the Real.
That Golden Mercenary doesn't have the luxury of his associate barking at Randy. He stiffens to attention, but the sound of Justin toting something from behind convinces him to stay right as he is. He knows in the nightmare they play by a different set of rules. Especially in his case. He's red. He did something exciting or extremely shitty. "Is that you, Fray?" he plays at, even if he knows for a fact that that isn't his comrade's voice. It's a rookie mistake, he either outed his friend or he's bluffing that he's not the only one here. Either way, he holds his hands up disarmingly, the rifle slung across his chest dangling at the strap.
"Nope." Justin doesn't have much patience for the Mercenary's guessing game. "Fray's not around. Hands on your head, and you live." It's an Orderite's promise: maybe it has some weight in the supernatural circles. Justin slowly approaches, pulling a set of handcuffs from his vest, readying them to put on the merc if he cooperates. "I'm here asking about a young lady. You've got one chance to make things right," he bluffs. Of course, Justin couldn't prove that the girl was here, or even if she still is here.
Complying, the merc covered in tactical gear slides his hands over the back of his head. Then showing that he knows the name of the game, he drops to his knees. He already has a sense of what Justin's here for. "She's already dead. Not by our hands though. Take it up with the loud mouth," he urges, advocating for his release. Loud mouth is being just as the mercenary said, voice raised to draw the ire of the man looking for his daughter, presumably dead. "Our job's done here anyway. We don't have any more stake in this."
Justin slaps the cuffs on the merc, content to trust those steel wrist-binds -- for now. "Where is she?" the bounty hunter insists, his teeth grinding at the revelation that the missing girl might not be found whole. He glances around, seeking for a reflective surface in the shop front that could be used as a way to blink back to the Real.
Naturally, the merc tests the bonds of his restraints. He can't get out of it of course, but the discomfort has him working at it briefly. Some guilt coloring his demeanor, he jerks his head to the left. A doorway glowing a reddish hue pulses as if to beckon Justin, outing itself as the portal leading to the missing girl. "Good as dead anyway," he revises, shifting with discomfort. He didn't pack knee pads, and the floor isn't very accommodating to the middle-aged man's knees. "You can get her out, but there's a visitor in town who likes his meals extra innocent, if you catch my meaning." He's being pretty talkative, informative even, probably to buy the good graces from Justin.
Hesitant, Justin creeps through the Shroud of the shop on his way to the ominously reddish door that the mercenary pointed out. He double-checks his equipment: "I left my stake in the car," he comments over his shoulder to the merc, his captive audience. There's a moment where he considers reaching out and bringing Randy along; but the conversation going on in the Real makes him decide against bringing the clerk in on things. With a nerve-steeling breath, Justin moves to open the reddish door -- and peek inside.
There's some shoving going on outside of the nightmare. Randy has pushed the reddy little man against a wall, who isn't exactly smiling right now. He caught a left hook, and that's never fun. He's holding his hands up, looking very confused, eyes darting here and there, probably waiting for the cuffed mercenary to emerge and bash Randy in the back of the head. Or even shoot him down.
Through that red portal, there's a room. It's dark, but the nightmare offers a glimpse into the darkness pervading reality. There's a small, frail figure on the ground. Still as death, she's sprawled, one hand reaching out for the comfort that was never there. She might be alive, but from his perspective, it's very hard to tell. What's clear is this is one of those rooms that are only accessed through the nightmare.
Justin moves through and into the reddish pit, leaving Randy to extract information from the clerk in a more contemporary style. The bounty hunter flags the four corners of the Nightmarish room with the barrel of his M4; but with no targets emerging, he lets the rifle drop to its sling. Then, he, too, is dropping to his knee -- checking on the still, frail figure, seeing if she's breathing. If she's lost too much blood.
Dropping into the room without any apparent doors in reality is just about like dropping in on a boss battle. No music plays, nor does a foreboding figure emerge as the seconds turn to minutes. It's just the small, frail girl that has the slight likeness of her rugged father, but seems to harbour more traits to someone else. Her mother, more likely.
Her eyes are shut, and she's lacking the vim of life in her complexion. Yet a mote of hope does linger in the depths of this depraved situation. She is breathing.
Justin scoops the helpless woman up in his arms, bracing to lift her up. His arm slips under her knees, and the other finds support in the small of the back. "Let's get you out of here," he whispers - as if reluctant to disturb the eerie stillness of the room. If he can, he heads to Randy - even if that means interrupting the searching father's conversation with the clerk at this point.
Nothing emerges to confront Justin, as anti-climatic as it is. Whoever had drained the young woman has been gone for a time, having had its fill of her life force, to the point of excess. She's on death's bed. But not lost yet. She has a fighting chance. Once Justin emerges out into the space used as a warehouse, a scene unfolds where Randy stands over a quavering little man, holding his hands over his face protectively. Randy's rolling up his sleeves, having abandoned any reason, preferring to wield the sword of retribution instead. It was Justin that found the missing daughter, but he had already assumed who was to blame for all this. He doesn't even register the presence of Justin and his daughter. He's ready to send this man to a clinic in the worst condition possible.
The girl isn't a burden in Justin's arms -- he stands there, casting a shadow in the storefront, where he hadn't been before the last blink of an eye. "Randy. Randy!" Justin calls, trying to draw the local father back to sense. "Here she is." He recognizes her from the photos. "Come on, sir. We've got to get her to the hospital." Justin narrows his eyes vindictively at the battered clerk. "You can always catch this asshole later."
Emotion comes in waves as Randy turns to regard Justin, and the frail, delicate woman in his arms. He swallows hard, holding back the tears that fight their way through his tear ducts. It's easy to hold the rest back when he glowers down at the reedy little clerk. "You and I aren't finished," he promises, affirming Justin's words. To ensure that, he binds the man's hands behind his back, then bashes him in the temple with the butt of his rifle, knocking him out cold. He strides away from him, content to leave him there while he tends to far more important matters.
"Jesus," he utters, just about falling to his knees, but he holds his composure well and grabs Justin by the shoulder, shaking his head. "I think I owe you a beer," is all he can really muster to express his gratitude.
With the tempo of his footsteps out of the storefront betraying his urgency, Justin carries Randy's daughter, and lends his shoulder to Randy. If they're unchallenged, they're in the car -- the girl on the back seat -- and then they're on the road, heading to the hospital on the other side of Haven. "I'll take up that beer anytime," Justin makes small talk on the drive over; but his eyes dart to the rear-view, checking on the precious cargo in the back seat.
Unchallenged, which might come as a surprise. The Golden Shadow mercenary has turned tail the moment Justin went after the troubled businessman's daughter. He could have came back to hinder Justin and Randy, but it's like he said, his stake has long been gone here after their contract was just about over. The Joja agent was left to fend for himself.
"Beer and whatever the hell takes your fancy at my range," he promises, restraining himself from enveloping his daughter with his worries. He'll wait for the medical experts to look her over.
The story concludes for now. Justin will probably be heartened to hear that the young woman pulled through and is making a slow recovery outside the township of Haven. The reedy clerk that had a promising start in taking a large stake of the business was rumored to have suddenly skipped town, and there is already talk that the plots of land the controversial Joja corporation bought was abandoned. As for Randy, with his daughter recovered, he never was the same man again, paranoid and suspicious of many new faces that came to his shooting range. Save for Justin, who he has held to an earned esteem, offering him discounts and freebies whenever he came across the Orderite.