One: Blood

Xavier, Lucielle and Galaine
"My ass…" he says, drumming his fingers on the roof of the car as he chews it over.

"Alright. Let’s see." he says, patting his pockets for his phone. Fishing it out, he pops the screen a few times, and holds it to his ear.

"Yeah. Yeah. I’m here. Got something I gotta run by you. Wait… what you say your name was again?"

You didn’t, but he waits for you to answer. Then, he resumes the call:

"Yeah. A real pretty boy. Out here in a…" he looks the van over "… piece-a-junk that smells like a slice of fried horse shit. Quiet little thing in the back…" he says, shining the light into Luci’s face.

"… and he’s with one of those Medieval Times nerds." he follows up, blinding Galaine momentarily.

"Sound like him? Well… alrighty then. Alright. Yeah. Yeah. Got it."

He hangs up the call, and clears his throat. He taps his fist on your hood a couple of times, and then calls out to the crew blocking your way:

"This one’s good to go, boys! Let her through!"

The vehicles blocking your way retreat immediately. As you start to drive by, he ends with:

"You folks have a safe night. Place is hell after dark."

Brydon Barringer
Nothing comes back for a moment, except for some wet sniffling and sounds of child-sized hyperventilating. Craning your neck, you see a small figure; a child. You squint. She’s dressed, but not for this weather. She stands, shivering, with an elephant teddybear hanging limply by her side.

Another moment, and she spots you. She jumps back a little, as your silhouette takes her by surprise.

"D… daddy?" she offers weakly.

Brydon Barringer

There’s a pause, and Brydon can hear his heart in his ears. The sniffling stops, and there’s quiet. The old cop peers into the gloom, watching the little girl.

After a moment, she calls back:

"I… I can’t."

Hairs stand up on the back of Bryson’s neck. The words… sounded clearer, and more put together than the child had sounded a minute before. And then comes a thump from a dumpster between you and the girl, and a figure spins into view.

"Awww… FUCK!" a man spits down the alleyway at the girl. He slams his fist into the dumpster again in frustration. He wheels on you, as you stand at the opening of the alleyway, brandishing a knife towards you.

"Fucking idiot! Listen, man…" he pleads, advancing on you. You’re further away than he would have liked, of course. "… we don’t want any trouble. Just toss over your wallet and get out of here. You don’t have to get hurt."

Behind the man advancing on you, you see a woman scoop up the child and hold the girl close to her chest. She wraps her own coat around the child. The mother, you assume, bounces the child up and down, trying desperately to shush her as the child sobs into the woman’s shoulder… for real this time.

Brydon Barringer
The man does pause, and sucks air between his teeth in frustration. And yet, he doesn’t put down the knife. He doesn’t even stop pointing it towards you. You’ve seen the look a thousand times; a man tallying the odds.

Is it loaded? Will he shoot? Will he hit?…

You’ve seen it go both ways before. Some take their chances; meeting with success sometimes, but usually failure. Others have more sense than that.

"She’s sick!" the woman blubbers from behind. "She’s sick, mister!"

Impossible to know for sure…

As you turn to go, the man doesn’t try to stop you. Maybe he’s one of the ones who sees sense. Lucky for him. The woman comes up alongside him as you start to walk away!

"You don’t know what it’s like out here!" she calls after you!

The Hangman’s Noose

And when you ask 'em, "How much should we give?"… Hoo, they only answer, "More, more, more, more"…

---

You sit across from the Noose; watching the comings and goings for a few minutes before you enter. The door opens, rowdy music from inside spilling out into the otherwise quiet street. A woman leads a man out of the Noose, round the corner, and into the alleyway. Every lane wide enough to take a piss in is a money-making opportunity in this town.

The lights from a militia patrol a couple of blocks down draws your attention, but they’ve better things to do than keep this dump safe, and the lights disappear as they turn off down another side street. A trio of young men head for the Noose then. You watch as one goes to the door, peeks inside and then motions for the follow him in.

You watch, and watch. Any of these people… heck, all of these people could be just like you: Summoned here because they know something, or they think they know something. You watch people file in and out of the Noose, before wondering when you’d make your own entrance…