Welcome back to One Life. A quest that was originally intended to be a one-shot, it's on a fourth thread now.
Updates are once a day unless I'm too busy or tired.

Previous threads:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6013758/
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6050129/
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6089875/

>>6130128
>Intended to be a oneshot
>On the fourth thread
Many such cases lol

>>6130126
>Go back there and see what happened. You aren't sure if there's anything to actually worry about, but there's a certain mime named Mimi you wanted to make sure was alright. Just in case.
Officially the longest quest I’ve partook in. A fine one at that.

>>6130126
>Go back there and see what happened. You aren't sure if there's anything to actually worry about, but there's a certain mime named Mimi you wanted to make sure was alright. Just in case.
Mimi, noooo!

Welcome back, QM. Thanks for kicking with it.

>>6130132
Hey I'm not complaining.

>>6130144
>>6130370
Thank you! I try my best.

Also,
>>6130144
>>6130370
>Blast Backtrack

Writing.

There was a feeling that you'll follow.

It isn't baseless, really. You don't know what that was, but you were curious to know more about it. However you didn't delude yourself; it was a feeling born less of curiosity or raw impulse than it was of worry. Worry for an unlucky, silent mime whom you'd made friends with just today. And that leads you to making the next statement.

"I'm going to see what that was" the first words that were spoken since the blast.

"I’m taggin' along" a second sentence soon followed, coming from Jamesfield. This garnered a few stares from the rest of the Noirs "why're you mugs givin' me that look? You think I’m just gonna sit around after catchin' a glimpse of that?"

"If you're going, so am I" was the reply of the Lady, unfortunately shrill as most of her speech was, directed at Jamesfield. The man in question looked like he was about to tell her to stay back, perhaps mentioning how straining activity could be for the body after getting knocked out by chloroform, but one look at her determined face was enough to dissuade him from saying anything, instead replying with a nod.

Mike's face scrunches up. He was someone you knew was skilled in fighting, so it's easy enough to assume the internal conflict in him; weighing the place where he'd be needed the most.

"Fine" he finally relented after some thought.

For a moment you were worried about the lack of muscle against the two tied up men. When attacking, Knife was able to hold his own against Jamesfield, Mike, and yourself for a surprising amount of time. You weren't particularly sure what the Jack of Hearts was capable of, not really doing much in the fight except soak up punches and look outraged, although a part of you felt like whatever he pulled would be both disappointing and annoying.
However these fears are put to rest, for better or for worse, when Albin flashes the a concealed gun beneath his shirt. You're not sure why you're surprised, you think, considering his history as a police officer and as a detective.
Honestly you should be beyond questioning things at this point.

"Go on, you four" the old man said with a level tone "Shapes and I will make sure our 'friends' here don't get any ideas. Stay safe out there. I don't want to be the one making autopsies on everyone, you know?" he said. It was strange to hear such dark humor from him, even if it was fitting for the occasion. Shapes gives a nod and not much else.

"You should be more worried 'bout yourself, old man" Mike shoots back.

With that, you all set off.

Although at a slower pace than what you would've desired it was no evening stroll.

Going back the way you came should be familiar, the gravel pathway and the increase in trees cementing that this was the right path, but there is something different in the air. You couldn't quite place what it was, but you could see that the rest of the Noirs were on edge, so they agreed with that much at least.

[1/2]

>>6130623
The difference becomes clearer the closer you approach your destination; the temperature had gone up.

Why this could be you didn't know with certainty, yet you quickened your pace. Soon the old gate was before you, though calling it that was rather generous considering it was now more of a break in the old park wall, it's days of being a formal entrance hardly noticeable anymore. Curiosity grabbed onto you for a moment--why did the park have walls in the first place? But that line of inquiry would have to take a break, as peering through said gate and stepping into it is like being transported into a different world.
If entering into the small forest brought about serenity with a foreboding blotch by the river, then the carnival was like a constant mob of activity that overwhelmed the senses and dulled any critical inspection.

It was there that you hear more evidence of what you were starting to fear. Gone were the sounds of intertwined chatter and laughter, in it's place the panicked voices and running people scattered your focus to and fro. Carnival music still played, but the scene it oversaw gave it a mocking and disturbing temper.

The grand centerpiece of the madness, adorned with a rising crown of orange, was the great Big Top Tent in the middle. A small hole tore through the top, where you assume the first firework flew out of. Its entrance, like a faucet, spilled out dozens of people. None of the guards from earlier could be found.

The rides were a similar story, if less dramatic. Humans jumped over railings and out of car seats, stepping on and into one another. Food littered the floor in a more severe case than usual.

But more interestingly there were the small embers that were gliding in the wind, some fluttering out and a few fizzling into nothing midair while others plummeting gracelessly into the ground. On closer inspection, those small sparks seemed to be confetti ignited by flame. You dreaded to think what sort of damage it could cause if left unchecked.

You hear Mike mutter something, and that brings your attention to your Noir companions. They had all seemed as gobsmacked, with the Lady specifically looking like she regretted tagging along.

[2/2]

>What were you doing, standing around and gaping like an idiot? There was no time to waste, you'd find Mimi and get out of this oven before it burns you and the Noirs down.
>A fire department needs to be called and people need to be evacuated as soon as possible. You're not a leader, nor a hero, and have no business in these sorts of situations, but Jamesfield might know a thing or two. Either way the chaos needed to stop.
>Contacting the fire department would come first, of course, but perhaps both finding Mimi and hopefully being of some help around was possible.
>Write-in.

>>6130624
>What were you doing, standing around and gaping like an idiot? There was no time to waste, you'd find Mimi and get out of this oven before it burns you and the Noirs down.
Are we or are we not the man of action who leapt our cab to deliver the devil ? to his destination?

>>6130624
>What were you doing, standing around and gaping like an idiot? There was no time to waste, you'd find Mimi and get out of this oven before it burns you and the Noirs down.

>>6130633
>>6130646
>Through The Fire And The Flames

Writing.

Time should not be wasted. Especially not here and now.

You shake yourself out of your stupor. There was someone you needed to find. She was (mostly) the reason you came back here to begin with. And you would need to go quickly, without regard for the past or what you might see.

You couldn't do everything. But what you could do was something you'd at least try.

"Where ya headed?" said Jamesfield, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"Look, I can't stay here" you said "there's someone I need to make sure is safe."

"That quiet dame" Mike guessed correctly. You nodded at him.

"Stay safe. I don't want to hear about any of you guys getting burned up" you practically reiterated Albin's words.

"You should be more worried 'bout yourself, see?" Mike finished the sentence, a rare smile on his lips.

Beginning to run, not waiting for any further questions from the Noir leader. Although you can see a bit of understanding in his eyes as he glanced at the Lady.
You hoped you'd see them all again soon.

As you were running, you noticed many of the operators were actually still around. Some were desperately stuffing all the money they could fit in their pockets before leaving, more than you'd like to imagine even tried to take some of their games with them. A rare few, however, were using their powerful voices to guide people out of the carnival, with questionable degrees of success, accompanied by some strongmen in their efforts. Among the latter group was--to your surprise--the same greedy test-of-strenght owner with whom you'd conversed earlier, and Anton alongside him. A stray thought forms; what happened to the gunpowder barrels? Did they have anything to do with the current calamity?

But you did not pay it that much mind. You could not afford to, currently.

These thoughts passed through your mind as you passed through the crowds. You couldn't weave through the pandemonium like you had earlier, as most everyone was now running or screaming or panicking or some combination of the three, so instead you go around it, leaping over fences, behind counters, through rides. Little embers of confetti danced around you, some sticking through your clothes and burning your flesh. Whenever you could you'd shake them off or put them out, but that was merely secondary to all the running. You sorely wished you had a bottle of water right now.
You ran towards where you'd last seen the mime, and shouted a name you felt like none really cared for.

A roller coaster, a house of mirrors, tents, food stands, a lonely bench, these things become blurs. You have no time for regrets of what you could've done or of the fun you might've missed. All that was left was going faster, and faster still.
Until you found her, that is.

[1/2]

>>6131189
She was still there, in the spot where she had been pantomiming earlier. Body as still as a statue except for her eyes, which glistened in disbelief at the sight around her. She took a few tentative steps behind her and came close, too close, to another tent that seemed to be long abandoned and teetering. You ran forth, grabbed her hand, and pulled her away from it.
It didn't fall down, or do anything so dramatic, but it was still had it's ominous look to it.

Mimi looked at you. Recognition came to her face. She scratched the back of her head and a weak smile soon followed, almost as if to say: "Nice seeing you again, sorry if I'm not looking my best."

"It's good to see you too, Mimi" you say. She lifts up her beret in response, with a worrying lack of flair. Not like you could blame her in this situation, though.

And again, you're standing around like an idiot. Time is of the essence!

But time was always needed, if you ever wanted to move forward.

And so you thought about what to do next.

[2/2]

>Go to your taxi. It's doubtlessly crowded, but if you can bring Mimi there and drive out, you'd be home free.
>Go back to the gate, to where the river and the Noirs likely remained. While safer, this risked involving your little mime friend in that strange mystery you and the Noirs stumbled onto.
>Wasn't there a water tank for dunking people in somewhere? You had an idea; dunk yourselves in there and wait until the firemen put everything out. It was insane, and so much could go wrong, but it just might work out in the end.
>Write-in.

>>6131194
>Go to your taxi. It's doubtlessly crowded, but if you can bring Mimi there and drive out, you'd be home free.
There's nowhere safer than in our cab.

>>6131194
>Go to your taxi. It's doubtlessly crowded, but if you can bring Mimi there and drive out, you'd be home free.
Wouldn’t wanna ruin the mime’s makeup.
People see us sitting in a tub of water, they’ll get the same idea. Then we’d REALLY be cramped.

File: derpixon-mime.gif (17 KB, 640x360)

17 KB GIF

>>6131206
>Wouldn’t wanna ruin the mime’s makeup.
I would >:)
But not like this

>>6131202
>>6131206
>Trials For The Taxi

Writing.

Your taxi was still there, waiting patiently.

The image of a vehicle flashes through your mind.

"We should leave" you say to her. Despite the wasted seconds, another question pops into your mind "how did you come here?" with her middle and index fingers she makes the motion of walking "walked all the way here?" she nods her head. That wouldn't do.

You take her hand again and lead her forward. She doesn't show any resistance, going with the motions.

"A car. A taxi. I drive it" you speak between breaths. To Mimi's credit she is able to keep up with you, dodging and jumping over any obstacle you did, mimicking like any good mime would.

But the worst is yet to come. That is something you both painfully realize as the crowds thicken in front of you.

Not too far away, at least a few meters, the mass of people swelled and was subsequently regurgitated by the entrance's great maw, leaving little place to go forth or even squeeze between. Unless you and Mimi fancied getting trampled on, as many unfortunates were subject too, going through the front gate wasn't an option.

At the very least the fires and gliding sparks haven't reached this area. Yet.

Averting your eyes from the morbid scene, you try to find another path. Your pale-faced companion tugs at your arm, gaining your attention. She points at a series of stalls, back-to-back, bearing ceilings wooden in nature. A few boxes that are stacked upon one another were close by. You look at her face, a grin forming on your lips in response to her suggestion. It seemed like the only way forward was up.
If you two pulled this off, it would be a moment to remember. Now to make sure you'd both live to see the day for that memory to matter.

After the last box was put in its place by yours truly--the mime being too weak to be of any help in this regard--you're thankful that none else either noticed what you were doing or attempting the same. How strange of a sight this might be; man and mime climbing a makeshift staircase. It is less sound than you would have liked, but it gets the job done. Walking upon the stalls' tops wasn't as fantastic as you'd first thought, at least in the beginning, save for the small jumps you'd need to make every so often to go between them. Mimi was definitely more nimble than you in this regard, making graceful steps and finding good footing.

[1/2]

>>6131811
The gate's wall itself loomed before you, yet preceding that another gap followed. Mimi leapt first, easily crossing it with lithe elegance. You followed, being powered by adrenaline to pounce but with enough balance to stop where you needed to.

While it might seem like getting down would be a problem, locating a bush right by the front proved serendipitous.

Without much thought you jumped down. Although it would seem like you'd miscalculated how well said bush would break your fall, since it hurt quite badly in some areas. Before being allowed a breather, you feel more than you see Mimi barreling down towards you head first. If you didn't have anything broken before, now you likely did.
Saying that, however, you realize how much of a featherweight your little mime friend truly was, easily being able to pick her up from you as you both shakily stood.

You don't let yourself stand around for too long, keeping up the momentum still you grasped her hand once more and practically dragged her towards your taxi. The amount of people thinned, quickly entering their own vehicles and making a getaway. Never would you of imagined yourself wishing that you'd have parked further away, the lucky ones now entering and driving away in their vehicles due to the parking congestion from earlier.

Large panicked crowds that tore at each other didn't stop you back at the carnival, and they wouldn't stop you now. Running once more, albeit with less speed and more aches, with a mime in tow you had soon approached your four wheeled companion. Taking out the keys (grateful that they were still in your pockets despite the it all), almost fumbling them, opening the closest door, which so happened to be the driver's seat, you're finally in. Mimi hops over you, not waiting for you to open the other door from the inside, and tumbles into the front passenger's seat. There was an awkward silence that hung for a few seconds, before you start to drive out. You accelerate forwards, and feel the adrenaline surge again yet you're still careful enough to not hit anyone on the way out.

You hear a small sigh of relief from your side, and a glance tells you that Mimi with a face of melancholic relief. A portion of you thinks it's odd how willing to trust she was to you, practically a stranger still, now in your car. But given the circumstances, and what you'd both just experienced, it's a sentiment you can commiserate with.

A small pain emerges on the front of your chest. You fear you might've broken a rib.

[2/2]

>Go to the hospital first, you're pretty sure you recalled where one was. Mimi could get checked up too, for all you knew she might be hurt as well.
>Before anything take her back to the Moonlight Cafe, where she resided, then you could go to the hospital.
>You would take Mimi back to her to her home, and follow up by returning to the Hotel. Honestly you just wanted some sleep.
>Write-in.

>>6131816
>Ask Mimi if she's prefer the hospital or home
>If she goes home, we'll go to the hotel
>If she has no preference, take her home and go to the hotel
In that order. Hospital seems unnecessary. We're fine. We're tough we can walk (or drive) it off!

>>6131816
>Go to the hospital first, you're pretty sure you recalled where one was. Mimi could get checked up too, for all you knew she might be hurt as well.

>>6131840
>Passenger Preference

>>6132176
>Safety Preference

If there aren't any changes I'll roll between these and start writing in a few hours.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>6132371
>1 Passenger
>2 Hospital

Writing.

You're curious as to where she wanted to go.

And so you decided to ask her if she wanted to return home, or perhaps check in the hospital. A part of you wished for the latter, merely for precaution's sake. Yet in the same vein you nonetheless you wished to return to your home.

It was too slow for your adrenaline fueled mind to even consider to ask in the beginning. A brush with death could do that to anyone, no? Even so, you force yourself to slow down for a moment and ask the question.

"So, Mimi" you start "where would you like to go? I could take you home, or we could go to the hospital if you're feeling bad."

Yet she does not respond. Even as you waited seconds, minutes, driving in circles and stalling for time, she said nothing. Well of course she would not, she is a mime. What does that have to do with anything? Does she not have a voice? Perhaps she didn't. It would be an ironic twist, for a mime to be mute.

"Mimi?" you say again, concern dripping from your voice. At the next red light you turn to see her face. It was distraught, gloved hands rubbing away a tear. That old park meant much to her. To see it literally go up in flames must've been devastating. Or perhaps she is crying over something else? She might be merely happy to be alive.

She looks at you once more, a slight emptiness in her eyes that quickly vanished as soon as it was there. She too was tired, and did not care enough to muster an opinion either way.

"... I'll take you home."

The drive continues on in a silence both peaceful and stifling.

You reach Moonlight's Cafe, it's structure warm and inviting to the eyes. Almost wishing to go there for a bit, just to see around the place and take an order or two. Yet your eyes were weary enough as it is, and your body was aching all over. You were tired, unbelievably so, and you just wanted to sleep in a bed, letting your worries wait until tomorrow.

"We're here" you announce, somewhat redundantly considering the mime was looking at the window as you parked in front of the building.

"Well, I guess this is it" you think of getting out of the car to stretch your muscles, but think better of it "I'll be seeing you the day after tomorrow, if that's-"

[1/2]

>>6132490
You aren't able to finish your sentence, as Mimi gave you a great hug. You noticed, interestingly, that she avoided the parts of your body that were the most tender while making contact with your body. She looked at you once more, and after giving you an expression that seemed to communicate concern over your wellbeing and gratitude for your presence in equal measures, she opened the door and entered the cafe.

You body may be aching, yes, but you felt a certain warmth in your heart.

Driving back to Hotel Oasis is a simple matter. Likewise was entering the building. Behind the front desk, that same lady with the large fake smile still stood. Still like a statue, as she'd always been, unless someone were to bother her with questions or held a desire to check in. She does not greet you, and you're happy for it. You didn't feel like dealing with her today.

To your room you go, and you set yourself onto your bed. You don't even bother changing into your pajamas. Before you know it sleep soon overtakes you.

>Dream.
>Do not dream.

>>6132491
>Dream.
Can Mimi just read body language that well, to know where we're hurting?

>>6132491
>Dream.

>>6132504
>>6132519
>Gentle Dreaming

Writing. The new captcha is crazy.

Dream

You dream deeply, letting yourself fall down the well of your subconscious.

That is, until you splash down into the water.

The feeling of liquid is enveloping, and no matter how much you tried you couldn't swim up. Your breath doesn't hold for much longer, reflexes eventually making it impossible. You wait for the feeling of water to enter your lungs.

But that feeling never came, instead a breath of fresh air in its place. You were still in the middle of an ocean, dark as the night sky and nearly as endless. Little bits of bioluminescent plankton and bacteria served as stars.

You had no concept of which way was what. Instead of remaining as you were or flailing about, you decide to calmly swim in a random direction.

The motions of your body in the water make up for the quietness of the place. You stop moving as quickly, your muscles relaxing yet mind sharpened to a degree you didn't think possible before.

Eventually you come across a light in the distance. It's different than all the others. Larger.
If the ocean was the sky, and the creatures the stars, then this was the sun.

You approached it, the dark clearing as you did.

It was a mirror and a window. You stepped inside.

Within this new place your footsteps echoed. Once more it was peaceful, but there was a certain stagnation that you could sense. It was indescribable, but still lingering there. A type of apathy? No, more like a form of detachment, riddled with curiosity.

"Curiosity brought you here, and observation leads the path."

A disembodied voice, so much like the wind yet grounded in and of itself, spoke to you. Looking every which way, you couldn't see where it came from.

"Stop searching and clear your mind. Only then shall you see what was in front of you all along."

You do so. And after a few moments of clarity you feel like you're able to see once again, despite your eyes already being wide open.

Before you is a man, clad in green robes, sitting cross legged over a boulder.

So, what was this? A strange person was about to give you some wisdom for the road, then?

"I would not say I am wise. Merely observant" he said with a chuckle.

That was fine by you. You weren't exactly one to trust dream advice for what, the second time already?

"This would be the third time, I believe" he corrected. You didn't think much else.

You're not sure how much time passed in silence, but it seemed both too short of an amount and too long.

[1/2]

>>6132886
"It was of great fortune that you'd listened to the world around you" he broke the quiet as he spoke on "yet these things are short and fleeting" once more he was silent. You once more did not think anything, so he continued "can you not feel it? The constant agonized exhaustion of this world? The tiredness of life itself?"

Sometimes you were drowsy every morning, you'd admit. But you haven't really been tired of living, if that's what he meant.

"No, it is not" he sighs "but I cannot complain about your actions too greatly. You have been taking the cautious step more often than not. It may seem cowardly, or even boring, but it is something to be cherished if you wish to appreciate the little things in life."

Another moment passes. You can hear the rushing of water in the distance.

"The world of the waking will claim you soon" the monk said as he rises up from the boulder. He jumps down, always maintaining perfect balance as he did so "but before you leave; a gift."

He then proceeds to touch your broken ribs. A cool sensation washes over your body.

Before you have the time to think or say anything, a torrent of water sweeps you away. You see the monk and boulder grow smaller in the distance.

And you wake up.

A quick look at the time told you it was nine thirty in the morning.

Getting up, you realize that your chest is no longer in pain. In fact, nothing was. You felt great. Almost as if you'd been completely healed.

[2/2]

>Just do your normal routine of washing, then eating breakfast at Dingo's. You're curious to see how everyone is faring today, and what the general sentiments were.
>Go for a walk. It seemed like a peaceful day, despite the disaster that had transpired yesterday. Maybe take a look at the gym too, since it should be open today.
>Wait, weren't there some repairmen that were around Hotel Oasis? The Marelli's, you think their names were? They should still be around the area. At least you hoped you could catch them before they left, if they were still around here even.
>Write-in.

>>6132890
>Just do your normal routine of washing, then eating breakfast at Dingo's. You're curious to see how everyone is faring today, and what the general sentiments were.

>>6132868
I shelled out for a 4chan pass.

>>6132890
>Just do your normal routine of washing, then eating breakfast at Dingo's. You're curious to see how everyone is faring today, and what the general sentiments were.

>>6132922
>>6132926
>Morning Brunch

Writing.

You shall prepare yourself and obtain some breakfast at Dan's Grill, as per usual.

Getting ready was easy. Even though you'd slept in somewhat, the routine was the same. In your coat's pocket there was a packet of jerky, and you were half tempted to consume it due to hunger, but considered otherwise since you didn't want to ruin your appetite before going to Dingo's.

As your eyes adjusted to the light, you saw the receptionist was still behind the counter, still with that unmoving false smile. You wondered once more if she ever bothered to sleep.

You entered your taxi--after quickly reviewing the footage from last night and the day before, thankfully finding nothing--and started to drive. It was peaceful and familiar, something you felt like you needed after the madness from yesterday.

The restaurant-bar stood open, it's neon sign on display still. Not much activity was observable from the outside, but perhaps that was simply due to people leaving for work at this hour.

Parking your car next to one of the trucks, you approach the place without anxiety. An old pinball machine greeted you once again before the entrance, enticing as it was to have a quick game you didn't know if it was truly something you'd like to indulge in currently...

>Play.
>Don't.
>Write-in(?)

You decided to enter the restaurant, finally.
Inside was much like the outside, both in its classic style with splotches of modernity and lack of people. A true contrast to yesterday's festive mood, you felt. The lone patron here, that same drunkard that you'd often see haunting the place, slept soundly in one of the tables. At this rate you're going to see him as a staple of this establishment, eccentric cowboy owner notwithstanding.

You'll admit, it was odd seeing the place so empty. There were hardly any sounds, save for the gentle snoring of the drunk and the wiping of glass cup on Ryan's part.

Ryan Barnaby, former sea captain turned bartender, tall and full of muscle, glanced over at you for a split second. Seeing as there was not much else to do, you approached the bar and sat on one of the stools.

"Mornin', Johan. How's it going?" he said. His tattoo, a small mermaid, gazed at you with an expressionless look. His accent was still there, as elusive and familiar as it ever was.

"Honestly, I could be better" you responded.

You looked up at what was available, and to your surprise you saw that it had changed. But that same surprise slowly wilts away when you noticed the words to its side: Lunch Menu.

[1/2]

>>6133693

--Menu
-Grilled Steak Special
-BLT Sandwich
-Gyro and Kebab w/Side Salad
-Cheeseburger and Fries
-Beef and Bean Burrito
-Soda/Juice or Complementary Water for any made order

You didn't feel like it was that late already. Maybe they just had an early lunch here?

"I know that face, lad" the bartender said, an upwards twitch of his mustache as he smiled "you slept in and didn't find the time for breakfast, aye?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Well I'll have ye know that I can tell Mrs. Tennessee to cook up your usual and it at ye, aye?"

>"If you insist. I'll have to thank her for this someday."
>"Really, there's no need. But thank you for the offer." (Make an order from the lunch menu)
>Write-in.

"You didn't have to go through all that trouble, Ryan."

"Don't ye worry naethin' about it, lad. Especially after yesterday's grief."

[2/2]

>"Speaking of, what happened back then? Inside it looked like some fireworks got misfired, but I don't know the official story yet."
>"Yeah, it was a rough day... Not something I'd like to go into."
>"Hey, did you happen to hear about the Noirs? I saw them yesterday, but we became separated in the chaos."
>Write-in.

>>6133693
>Don't.

>>6133696
>"Really, there's no need. But thank you for the offer." (Make an order from the lunch menu)
>Grilled Steak Special and a Coke
We had a big, busy, stressful day. We should splurge.

>"Hey, did you happen to hear about the Noirs? I saw them yesterday, but we became separated in the chaos."

>>6133693
>Don't.
>>6133696
>"Really, there's no need. But thank you for the offer." (Make an order from the lunch menu)
No way am I gonna pass up on the gyro meal.
>"Speaking of, what happened back then? Inside it looked like some fireworks got misfired, but I don't know the official story yet."

>>6133698
>>6133713
>Don't Play

>>6133698
>>6133713
>Multi Lunch Meal
If it's alright with you guys I'll just combine both of the suggestions for what to eat. But if you'd like I can roll between these.

>>6133698
>Detective Report

>>6133713
>News Blues

I'll roll between these in a few hours if there's no changes.

>>6134359
I'm good with combining it into a big lunch. Or just going with the gyro, desu. I'm not picky in that regard.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>6134365
I'll just combine them then if there's no objections.

>>6134359
>1 Report
>2 News

Writing.

>>6134458
Sorry anons for taking so long, I don't think I'm awake enough to continue tonight. I'll try to get back at it in the morning.

>>6134581
No problemo, OP. See you then!

Thank you for the patience, anons.

----

"Speaking of, what happened back then? Inside it looked like some fireworks got misfired, but I don't know the official story yet."

While you saw the worst of it, you hadn't really witnessed the beginning. Neither did you check the news either. So you hoped that a bartender could have more than a few second hand stories to tell. But first, you wanted to know what the official story was. If there was any official record of events, it would be best to know it sooner rather than later.

"Hm" Ryan scratched his mustache lightly and smiled "the 'official story'. Now that's a kicker from you, lad. It's being called the 'Great Funfair Fire', rumors spreading like they've got a will of their own. From a tragedy that could've been avoided, to a terror attack, sabotage, even a botched assassination attempt. Aye, it's too early to see what the people'll settle down on, but I've a feeling it'll settle somewhere between incompetence and a killer."

"Who'd want to assassinate someone there?" was the foremost thing in your mind you voiced, considering what you and the Noirs found. Ryan shrugs his shoulders.

"Don't know, so. It's not like the charity didn't have it's share of enemies" that makes you think back to the two criminals that were captured by you and the Noirs, although they were connected to the E.V.L, it's still proof that something was occurring. You wonder what happened to them.

You think about it for a little while, trying to ignore the occasional pang of hunger in your gut. You'd don't know if it was because of how famished you were, but you'd decided to purchase a somewhat large lunch. Of course, you couldn't deny it would all be delicious.

"In that case, what sort of things have you heard around?" since the news itself wasn't much more than speculation, maybe some other testimonies could help piece things together.

"I heard a few people that came from the carnival saying that it was cursed so. A few that came back here drank their worries to sea, and talked about how strange the main event was. Honest, I couldn't tell you half of what they were talking about. Most said they saw some blast like a firework in the sky, then another bigger explosion happen on the ground" you asked if anyone had seen the event in the big top itself "aye, one or two. They didn't go much into it, though I know one said he didn't recall what happened other than there being cages" you wished you could talk to one of the people that witnessed it "but most were just sad over the happenings, going to the hospital or mournin' over loved ones. But I'm guessing you already know that much since you were there, aye lad?"

[1/2]

>>6134725
"No, I don't. I mean, I was in the carnival, but I didn't see how it went down since I was with the Noirs and in the outskirts at the time. Although I did witness the panic that occurred afterwards. Having to escape it wasn't easy."

"That feels like a story, lad" it was, far more than he probably imagined "care to share it with an old salt?" he cleared his throat "don't feel forced none, lad, but sharing about a time helps the heart. At least, that's why old sailors like myself share their tales easy" he chuckled a bit "at least, when anyone asks for them."

Ryan seemed genuine enough, you think.

>You will, and you'll tell him everything. From the body to escaping with Mimi, and everything in between. It'll be good to get it off your chest.
>Sure, but don't tell him about the exact details of any new people you've met. And omit any mention about the dead body or the criminals you caught.
>A story for a story, your new one for one of his old. (Tell the full story or without all the details?)
>No, you'd rather not.
>Write-in.

"Back to what we were saying; is there really nothing else? Maybe a police report, or something?" you ask.

"I wish I could say I know more. But people've been scarce since last night and the cops haven't shared anything" but then he pauses for a second "though I did hear some detectives had something in the works" that sounded like the Noirs to you, but you weren't entirely sure. You're about to say something, but you sneeze. Ryan is kind enough to give you a paper napkin, which you use then throw away.

A distant yawn interrupts any further discussion. Objectively speaking it wasn't loud, but it pierced through the waning quiet, gathering both your and the bartender's attention.

[2/2]

>"So, you were saying about detectives?" Knowing the Noirs, it was possible they'd try to stick their noses into something. However there's the possibility this may have nothing to do with your monochrome friends.
>"What's up with that drunk guy over there?" You've seen him here practically every time. You're not sure if you even know his name. Maybe he knew something? But that thought could just as easily be a red herring.
>Keep speaking, but go back to smalltalk until your brunch arrives.
>Write-in.

>>6134735
>Write-in
Tell him we were snooping around a bit because of all the warnings we were getting, and strange vibes around the place. It mostly seemed like a normal fair, and we met this cute-but-quiet girl we might be going on a date with. Keep it light, vague, simple, but imply that we found some evidence he was right about how sketchy the place was. We ended up running into the Noirs, too, who'd found something weird going down, but they'll have to tell him their own news when they get here.

Good segue to:
>"So, you were saying about detectives?" Knowing the Noirs, it was possible they'd try to stick their noses into something. However there's the possibility this may have nothing to do with your monochrome friends.

>>6134735
>A story for a story, your new one for one of his old. (Tell the full story or without all the details?)
Without all the details.
>"So, you were saying about detectives?" Knowing the Noirs, it was possible they'd try to stick their noses into something. However there's the possibility this may have nothing to do with your monochrome friends.

>>6134779
>>6134744
>>6134735
I'll back asking for a story, too, rather than making QM roll for it.

>>6134744
>>6134779
>Story Swap
I'll use >>6134744 's version of the story if that's alright.

>>6134744
>>6134779
>Back To The Conversation

>>6135061
Thank you anon.

Writing. Might take a bit.

"So, you were saying about detectives?"

You won't be sidetracked by the actions of a drunk. Especially not when the conversation was starting to get interesting.

"Aye, I was" he cleared his throat once more, focusing towards to the conversation with as much smoothness as you did "most would call it hearsay, but I wouldn't say that's the end of it."

"How so?"

"Because some of the things that were said could only be known by a few. If they're still the same as they were before."

Indeed, Ryan did briefly mention about how having experience dealing with the carnival and the E.V.L; once the day before yesterday and then again merely ten minutes ago.

---

A tale for a tale, to entertain and soothe your mind.

You take up his offer, but only on the condition he shares a story with you in turn. With a smile he agrees to the terms.

After that you tell him about the itch to snoop around, to which he replied--with no small amusement--saying 'Those hardasses must be rubbing off on you so. Careful, lest ye become a detective yourself'. That didn't sound like such a bad thing. You followed up by speaking of the odd feelings you got from the place, juxtaposed by the apparent normality of it all. Then sharing with him some rumors about a manager being corrupt, the state of the roller coaster, and even how you'd felt like you got ripped off by one of the game operators. The bartender nodded at each of these things, giving small comments like 'Aye, I thought so' and 'Sounds about right', confirming his thoughts and experience with the carnival. You mentioned how the Noirs were looking into the place and how they'd found something strange going on, but he'd have to ask them himself if he wanted to know the details.

"Sounds like you had your fair share of grief, lad."

"It wasn't all bad" you said "I might be going on a date with a girl."

"Oh-ho, now that's some news, aye" he cracked out a chuckle while giving you a light slug in the arm "tell me lad, what's she like?"

"Well she's cute and a bit on the silent side."

"And?"

"That's about it" you shrugged "we've only met for a day."

"Ye're killin' me, lad" he said, still with a smile "but that's fair, aye. I'll wish ye the best, I will. Actually," he turned around and took out a bottle from the wall behind him "here ye go, on the house."

"Really, I can't-"

"I won't hear that none. I insist" he said, pushing the bottle to you.

Reluctantly, you take it. It is a bottle of whisky, with the name Irish Blue proudly on its face.

"Now as I'd recall, I still have my end of the deal to uphold, aye?" you nodded at his words, half bracing yourself and half wondering of what he'd share.

[1/2]

>>6135894
He first gave a bit of context, saying that he was once the captain of a fishing vessel called the Marina. He was on a fishing in Alaskan waters, when suddenly he and his crew became stuck in a storm. He retold about how they survived, having to eat from the fish they had caught, and how the storm lasted for nearly a week. It was compelling, but the most intriguing part of the story to you was the aftermath. Namely that the Marina was in a state of disrepair, and how he took up odd jobs afterwards by recommendation of an old friend of his. In a certain one of these occupations he implied doing a small stint for the E.V.L, and falling out with them. This in turn started a series of events that eventually led to his being here.

"But those are stories for other times" he'd said.

---

You wished he'd spoken with more details about the matter, although you couldn't blame him about not wanting to talk about it. You also had your secrets to keep, a few too dangerous to talk about.

"What things?" you asked tentatively.

"Names and some of their plans. Made me think they were part of them at first, but the way they carried themselves left no doubt they weren't part of the carnival" how they acted didn't necessarily mean they weren't part of the E.V.L, or any other charity-related organization.

"So, no connection to the Noirs?"

"Nae, I don't think so lad" he scratched his mustache again "although now that ye mention it, one of them did say something about Albin... can't remember what exactly."

Just as you were about to press on, the waitress served you the food and drink. The steak and gyro seemed particularly delicious, making the tray steam with a nice aroma, complimented on the sides by a kebab and salad. A dark fizzling drink bubbled nearby. Your stomach sounded rather pleased at the appearance of the sustenance.

You turn to thank the waitress, but she seems preoccupied by something on her mind. Her auburn hair more disheveled than usual, and bags under her eyes. She glides away quietly, As soon as she's here she's gone.

[2/2]

>Dig in while it's still hot. You can talk with Ryan about more complicated things at a later time, but right now you just want to wolf this food down before going to your taxi and make your rounds across the place.
>"Is she alright?" That didn't seem particularly normal, you think. You'll eat a bit while talking, too.
>Ryan gave you the perfect opening to ask about the status of the Noirs and whomever these new detectives are, and you'll take it while snacking on your meal.
>Write-in.

>>6135895
>"Is she alright?" That didn't seem particularly normal, you think. You'll eat a bit while talking, too.

>>6135895
>"Is she alright?" That didn't seem particularly normal, you think. You'll eat a bit while talking, too.

>>6135898
>>6135938
>Waitress Woes

Writing. Might take until tomorrow.

"Is she alright?"

"Nae, afraid not" Ryan said sadly "her cousin passed away at the carnival."

"I see..." you pause for a moment, processing what Ryan had just stated while you tasted the salad. Not a bad side dish "wait, why is she working?"

"She insisted. Couldn't tell you why, lad."

"I thought her cousin was here yesterday. I could've sworn I saw him taking orders..."

"Huh?" the bartender looks at you in confusion "I think ye might be confusing someone, lad. Cole and Collie are both twins that work here, aye? Their cousin was a man that looked nothin' like them, odd enough" he shook his head "I heard he was a family man, his wife sharing the same fate as him. More's the pity."

A family at the carnival. Why do does that sound familiar? And why does that fill you with sadness?

"I see" you say again while taking a bite out of the gyro. It's more delicious than you imagined "how many people would you say this affected?"

"Hard to tell at this point, but at least a hundred or so are hurt" he shrugs his shoulders in apology. You respond by sipping your drink, the cola's fizz tickling your nose. The food is delicious, but you don't feel like eating after listening to the approximation. It was a tragedy, this whole world was a tragedy.
You almost don't feel like eating anymore. But your hunger compelled you to continue. Such was life, you suppose. No reason to starve yourself.

"When I was there, I didn't see any deaths. Lots of panic and trampling, but no deaths. I guess I should count myself lucky" some luck. You take a bite out of the steak. It's delicious. Especially when it goes down with that bubbly drink.

"I heard that most of the accidents happened in the big tent near the middle" maybe you were a bit lucky. More than those caught in the inferno, at least "I believe that's where Collie's cousin had met fate for the last time" what a strangely poetic way of saying he died.

You hear a mumbling some ways off, and see the drunkard staggering outside.

You don't pay it much mind afterwards.

"So, how is this place going to hold up?" you comment, asking both to fill up the silence and out of curiosity.

[1/2]

>>6136565
"Likely at a loss for the next week or so. Should still hold up from yesterday's boom" Ryan answered simply "might've lost a few regulars, though."

"How come? This place isn't that bad."

"Ye'd be the first one to think that" he said with a laugh "but really what I mean to say is they might no longer capable to come here. Especially if they're in a hospital bed or casket."

"Ah" oh "well, we can only hope it's not as bad as all that, right?"

"Aye, that we can lad" replied Ryan, raising an empty glass he was cleaning "here's hoping. But most of them were part of the workers that got payed by the charity's own pockets. Much as I don't like that carnival, it was a way for the average man to get some good money. I can hope once more that not too many met their ends."

[2/2]

>"Speaking of workers, did you happen to hear anything about a man named Joseph Quinous?" Perhaps a dangerous line of conversation, but you did tell Albin you'd help in finding out more.
>"We've been talking all this time about others' feelings and my own thoughts, but what about you? How do you feel?"
>"What do you think is going to happen to the E.V.L next?"
>Write-in.

>>6136569

>"Speaking of workers, did you happen to hear anything about a man named Joseph Quinous?" Perhaps a dangerous line of conversation, but you did tell Albin you'd help in finding out more.

>>6136569
>"Speaking of workers, did you happen to hear anything about a man named Joseph Quinous?" Perhaps a dangerous line of conversation, but you did tell Albin you'd help in finding out more.

>>6136625
>>6136715
>Old Acquaintances

Writing.

"Speaking of workers, did you happen to hear anything about a man named Joseph Quinous?"

"Joseph Quinous... hm" Ryan thinks about it for a little bit "he died a while ago, right?"

"So I heard" you don't trust yourself enough to say a blatant lie here.

"Aye, I know a bit about him" he tries to recall "usually hung between groups here. Not very active, but still around. Most everyone could recognize him, but not many knew him personally. I bet half didn't even know his name."

"He wasn't much of a social butterfly, then?"

"Ha! Nae, lad. He would just sit back in the background and chime in every once in a while" interesting "not to say he didn't have any friends."

"I see" you pause in order to eat "I would've thought he wasn't too known. He would eat and drink here often, right?"

"Aye, he would drink. But if he ate, it wasn't here" Ryan says, then looks at you oddly "mind if I ask what the questions are for?"

"No, not at all" you did mind, but you had an answer on the ready "an old acquaintance of his told me he was some sort of electrician working for the carnival, and I was curious about his apparently uninteresting life."

"And how it related to the carnival, aye?"

"Well, that too."

"Aye," Ryan nods "I might not know him the best out of anyone, but I know a few who might" that was good to hear "There were some he was with. But mostly was closest to a man named Justin, and another named Adam" he elaborated further, saying that the former was usually with the blue collars and the latter hung around the trucker gang. It was a step forward that you could make independently now. You continued to consume your food. Unlike earlier it was merely warm now. The drink was starting to get to room temperature from the chill it once had, meeting the rest of the meal in the middle. The alcohol bottle was still there. You honestly weren't sure what you were going to do with it.

"Haven't seen them since yesterday, so good luck finding them."

[1/2]

>>6137031
"Thank you" you'll need all the luck you can get.

"It's fine, lad. Actually, that drunk from earlier, we all call him Noble, he knows most about everyone. He could tell you a story or two about Joseph."

Well that could be useful. Or not, the man was a drunk after all. You weren't sure what to make of it, but you did regret the fact that he'd left before you could at least talk to him.

"Think I could catch him?" it couldn't of been more than fifteen minutes since you've seen him leave.

"Sorry lad. That one has a tendency to disappear when he likes. By this point he's probably half across town. Don't ask me how he does it."

[2/2]

>"Disappear? What do you mean?" Ask Ryan how he does it.
>"That's unfortunate. Anyway, do you know where I could contact the Noirs? Or at least tell them next time you see them that I'd like to meet."
>"You know, I'm still surprised this place is so empty today." Then try and talk about the owner, Dingo. You were curious about how he was doing.
>Write-in.

>>6137032
>"That's unfortunate. Anyway, do you know where I could contact the Noirs? Or at least tell them next time you see them that I'd like to meet."
We have to get to work soon. Shame our friends didn't turn up...

>>6137032
>"That's unfortunate. Anyway, do you know where I could contact the Noirs? Or at least tell them next time you see them that I'd like to meet."

>>6137035
>>6137051
>Messages And Contacts

Sorry anons but I probably won't be able to update today. I'll start writing sometime tomorrow.

>>6137583
Sounds good, see you then!

"That's unfortunate. Anyway, do you know where I could contact the Noirs? Or at least tell them next time you see them that I'd like to meet."

"I don't have their phones or know where they live. Other than Aubrey being one to stay in the library, they might as well be in on a flight."

"Who?"

"Aubrey. Aye, she calls herself 'the Lady', so" well that's one mystery solved, as anticlimactic as it was.

"Either way I'd appreciate it if you could tell them I'd like to meet with again."

"I'll see what I can do, lad" it seems like he's done, but then he continues "a shame you just missed the old detective this morning."

"Albin? What was he doing here?"

"I couldnae tell you, lad. He just came by, asked to speak with Dingo, then left."

"Why would he ask about the owner?"

"Don't know. But I do know that Albin said he had business with the police" he scratched his mustache once more "but that reminds me, I was thinking about where the other hardasses would be. I didn't want to say, since it's all just assuming where they'd be" you wish he'd started with that first instead.

"Please, I'd like to at least have some idea. I'm a bit in the dark."

"You haven't talked to them yet?" he said, slightly surprised. You confirmed that you had not heard of them since yesterday.

Ryan goes on to tell you about how it was rumored Jamesfield and Mike and even the Lady were written about in the news for their attempts to help people escape the inferno, though their names weren't shown it was obvious (at least to the bartender) that they were the culprits. One of their more interesting exploits was using the dunk tank's water in order to help extinguish the fire. If Ryan's theory was to be believed then Mike was hurt in some way and probably hospitalized.

You're about to ask another question when suddenly a phone's ringing is heard from beneath the bar's desk. Ryan takes it, says a few words in response to whoever had called, then says he'll be on his way.

"Sorry lad, that was Dingo. He wanted to talk with me about the pinball machine" he makes to depart "Cole should be here in around fifteen minutes as a substitute, if you still care to stay. Between you and me, that lad's not much for conversation--I won't blame ye if you wish to leave" you both exchange some quick goodbyes.

After he goes you go back to eating the rest of your nearly forgotten food, and gulp down your drink. It's not as warm as it was earlier, but still bursted with flavor. It remained satisfying to consume; nearly a ten out of ten in your books.

The bar is quiet. You feel like you could hear even the smallest sound without straining your ears.

>Wait for Cole, the twin and waiter.
>Leave for work. Your taxi won't drive itself.
>Get up and wander around the place. It doesn't necessarily have to be in the building. (Anywhere in specific?)
>Write-in.

>>6137953
>Leave for work. Your taxi won't drive itself.

>>6137953
>Leave for work. Your taxi won't drive itself.
Maybe we can swing by the hospital later.

>>6137965
>>6137998
>Taciturn Taxi

Writing.

The urge to drive again calls you.

You wipe your face with a paper napkin, then get up from the stool.

There was still work that needed to be completed, and it would be remiss to procrastinate.

Walking beyond the front door, you glance at the pinball machine. Ryan was apparently called by Dingo about it. You'd be lying if you said you weren't curious about what they both might be speaking about.

With a last look at the restaurant, you enter your taxi and speed away.

The desire to push the pedal to it's limit grips you, but you don't let it control you. Not now, when there were things to do.

You ride around town, looking for passengers to take. All in all it seems rather quiet today as well. You'd think that the aftermath would invite a flurry of necessity for people, both to come and go places, but it seems like that wouldn't be the case.

Still, there are a few people that you take. The first being a familiar corpulent woman doting her cat--named Mr. Perecles if you remember correctly--departing from a lavish restaurant called The Crown towards an affluent residential area. She was wearing a silk scarf, and was constantly checking a small notebook of hers.
Second was what seemed to be a homeless man. For a second you were worried he would not be able to pay, but there were no complications on that front. A small sparrow was in his possession and you were half tempted to kick him out because of it, but didn't after he assured you it was trained. He did, however, offer you to take you on a meal under a certain bridge for "a quick bite of beans". You were rather full from the meal, so with as much politeness as you could muster you declined.
The third, and final, passenger for the day was a woman with golden hair, fair skin, and blue eyes. The most silent of the three, she only spoke to inform of where she wished to go, and you felt like she was staring at you. Quick glances at the inside rear-view mirror did not confirm anything other than a slightly melancholy expression on her face. You let her off in the suburban area, but not before she lingers around watching you leave.

[1/2]

>>6138669
The rest of the time driving is as lonely as the bar. Many differing theories emerged from your mind, thoughts fleeting as quickly as you sped up. Was the grieving so great? Or was there mere tiredness? Perhaps a wrench was struck in some facet of society, paralyzing this facet of the body.

After some time you decide to park your taxi somewhere nondescript. It is close to the port and pier of the so called East Commercial Line. You think about what you've learnt today, though you haven't really had the time to act on much.

Nonetheless time passed you by, and the clock in your radio said it was three in the afternoon.

[2/2]

>Continue working. Surely you'll be able to scrounge some more people before the end of the day.
>Go to the hospital, see if any of the Noirs are there. Mike might be around.
>You shall return to Hotel Oasis. There were things to do there.
>Write-in.

>>6138671
>Go to the hospital, see if any of the Noirs are there. Mike might be around.

>>6138718
>Hospital Hurting

Writing. Might not be able to update today, just as a warning.

It is in your interests to go towards the hospital.

Though it might be nice to see some familiar faces there. At the same time you hoped you found none you knew, for their sakes more than yours.

Trying to remember where it was located was a simple matter. You didn't feel like becoming lost this time, so you'd established mental landmarks and memorized the roads themselves when doing so. You recall passing towards the place a few times in the past, and a perfectly white looking building fit the memory.
The parking lot for the place was completely packed, and you were forced to set your taxi in a neighboring place. It would seem as you weren't the first to consider this, as other people that had clearly gone to the hospital were there as well.

Automatic doors opened into a clean and sterile smelling entrance. After a waiting in line at the front desk you suddenly realized how strange this all was. There were more people here than expected; mostly visitors, but some had bandages and casts on them. None of them, you think with both sadness and relief, were familiar.

After fifteen agonizing minutes of waiting--mostly distracted by a news broadcast on the television attached to the wall, unfortunately it's on mute, and nothing currently relevant seems to be shown (unless you consider certain stock prices and abstract numbers as urgent)--you're next in line.

"Hi, sir. How can I help you?" were the words of a smiling young woman by the front, her face was considerably kinder than the receptionist at Hotel Oasis. An older woman was talking to someone in the background.

"I was," you honestly didn't think this far ahead "I mean, I wanted to visit someone I knew."

"Sorry, we don't allow visitors unless allowed by the patient or by appointment. If that will be all-"

"Wait, can I at least send a request?" you really didn't want to have wasted all that time in line just to get nothing out of it.

"Hm" she seemed to consider it "sure, that shouldn't be a problem. Who do you want to talk to and who will it be from?"

"My name is Johan, and I'd like to speak to someone named Mike."

"... can I get some surnames, sir?"

"No" you said without thinking. A few awkward moments followed, only to be interrupted by the person behind you clearing his throat.

"I'll... see what I can do" she said in a tone that didn't inspire confidence from you.

"Thank you. Sorry if it's inconvenient" you tried to smooth things over. You're instructed to wait, saying that you'd get an answer later.
While you're grateful about the flexibility, internally you wish to groan from the idea of even more waiting.

Soon you're sitting in the waiting room along with other people. You didn't have much luxury in choosing your where you sat down, as most seats were occupied.

[1/2]

>>6139500
You're next to a man with some sort of neck brace on the left, to your right there's a woman with some bandages on her face. In front there was another television, silently showing some cartoon on it. There were also a few magazines, with clearly sensationalist articles on them. It might be some time before anything happens, but there's always ways to pass the time.

>Try to talk to the people next to you.
>Watch the cartoon.
>Look over the magazine.
>Just bear with it.
>Write-in.

"This is a call for Johan" a stout looking nurse announces your name as soon as he walks out the door. He searches around the room with his eyes, but there's no need for you soon get up and follow him.

You pass down a hall. A few doors were open enough to peek through them, revealing different people in differing conditions. Some are worse than others, though you can't confirm anything without openly asking around. And that wasn't something you wished to trouble yourself with now, for you needed to focus on what had to be done. The nurse is, by all accounts, silent through the small journey.

You're led to a door by the end of the hall, the nurse soon departing afterwards. And behind it you see none other than Mike. He doesn't seem to be in much pain, as he's restlessly looking around the room. He looks to be completely healthy until he turns and walks with a limp.

"Hey Johan. How're you holdin' up?" he says to you, but then immediately begins to scribble something on a piece of paper.

[2/2]

>"I think I should be asking you that. What happened to you guys?"
>"I'm fine. What are you writing?"
>"As well as you could imagine." You'll answer any questions he has first.
>Write-in.

>>6139503
>Try to talk to the people next to you.
>"As well as you could imagine." You'll answer any questions he has first.

>>6139503
>Try to talk to the people next to you.
>"As well as you could imagine." You'll answer any questions he has first.

>>6139534
>>6139591
>Sick Conversations

>>6139534
>>6139591
>As Well As One Might Be

Writing.

---

You look at the two people at your left and right. The man takes notice of you first, and you attempt to make some smalltalk to break the ice. That first part doesn't go anywhere, since his voice is muffled for some reason, but he does get across the fact that he was one of the people that got trampled yesterday. You end up telling him your own story (a version that lacked anything important, of course). He apparently finds some strange camaraderie over the event, and asks if you were in the big top. You say you weren't, and he gives a similar response. Both of you are mutually disappointed, though you do shake on it by the end, with the man introducing himself as an Alan Greenward while you introduced yourself.

He didn't seem to want to talk more after that, motioning that he wanted to rest his eyes for a while. You turn to the woman, and extend your hand for a shake. But you find that she is lacking one arm, the other within a cast. From what you could tell, both weren't recent. You apologize, but she does not reply. You attempt to talk with her again, but once more she doesn't say much. Merely looking at you, you come to the realization that she didn't speak because she couldn't. Finally you asked if she wanted to communicate by blinking--two blinks for yes and one for no. She blinked once in response.
Dejected, the rest of the time was filled with awkward silence.

---

"As well as you could imagine."

"I don't have to, see?" you try to forget the strange experience in the waiting room while Mike seems like he's reaching for something inside the desk. He then grimaces, apparently recalling something. Then he goes back to writing something.

"Did you get the messages we sent to the hotel?"

"No, I don't think so" you'd recall if something was given to you in that way. But then again you didn't even know that was allowed or if the Noirs used unorthodox methods to send them.

"Figures. And since you ain't sittin' with the fuzz right now, I'd consider it a stroke of luck, see?" you're sorely tempted to ask him to elaborate, but Mike doesn't seem to be done.

"Look, last time I laid my peepers on ya, you was hightailin' it after some ghostly broad. What happened next?" he sat down as he inquired.

You recounted to him the tribulations that you'd gone through there, he didn't comment on anything nor did he interrupt. It wouldn't of been wise to not speak about how you met Mimi, considering that the Noirs would've easily been able to sniff out the lie with what they knew.

He stops scribbling, and passes the note to you. A series of phone numbers is jotted down, every individual one with an acronym by the end that likely referred to each of the Noirs.

[1/2]

>>6140446
"I wish to could give you some contact information to share with the rest, but-" you say after pocketing it.

"No, I know how it is" Mike interrupts "especially if it’s cause one of them fancy corporate gizmos you lost track of still got it" you honestly have no idea what he's talking about, but you'll take the easy out and nod your head.

"Where were you this morning?" Mike inquires immediately after.

"I slept in till nine A.M, and then went to Dingo's for brunch. It was pretty barren when I got there. But the food was delicious."

"Albin, after he went lookin' for that Anton fella, he tells me all the joints in town are kinda dead. Can’t say I blame 'em with all the trouble brewin’ around, see?" Mike ignores your comment about the food.

"Yeah, I got that much" other places were affected too, then. You can't say you're surprised "I'd be more surprised if anywhere still had customers today."

"I'd give it a week, tops" Mike hums and turns to you again "hey, I don't know if they told you but visits are on a time limit."

"No, I wasn't informed" that was both annoying and inconvenient "for how long can I stay here?"

"Around fifteen minutes more, probably less" so enough to breach a topic or two.

[2/2]

>"You mentioned something about Anton, what's his deal."
>"So what happened with the two 'friends' we made yesterday?"
>Ask about the status of the rest of the Noirs.
>Write-in.

>>6140449
>"So what happened with the two 'friends' we made yesterday?"

Unfortunately I won't be able to update this today, but tomorrow should be fine for me. Voting will still be open until then.

>>6140449
>"You mentioned something about Anton, what's his deal."
Did the fireworks trugger the accident?

>>6141010
Thanks for the heads up, QM!

>>6140461
>Enemy Update

>>6141070
>Firework Flight

Sorry about taking so long. I'll start writing in a few hours.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>6141464
>1 Enemies
>2 Anton

Rolling and writing.

"You mentioned something about Anton, what's his deal."

"He gave us a hand at the carnival, see? With the fires, I mean. Not talkin' 'bout no card games or shivs" if you were to put this in simpler terms, Mike was saying that Anton wasn't made aware of the other two criminals (the Jack of Hearts and the Knife) but that he did help out in evacuation efforts.

"Yeah, I saw him helping people get out all orderly like" you also saw a game operator there--a man whom you'd spoken with earlier as well. You tell Mike about this, but the kickboxer doesn't know anything about a carnival game owner being around.
The Noir asks you to describe him, appearance, voice, the game he owned, and personality wise. And you do so happily. You imagine the rest of the Noirs will look further into this, leads are always appreciated by them.

"We didn't get time for chit-chat, but we swapped digits after the heat died down. Turns out it don’t mean a thing, 'cause that lowlife bounced town the very next day" Mike tells you plainly "I couldn't believe it."

"I guess there was something he didn't want people to know?" you start to theorize "perhaps he got recalled for incompetence and has to explain himself to his boss? Or maybe the pressure from technically being the reason this all happened got to him."

"Shapes figured that too at first" Mike says "but this wiseguy--this 'Anton'--ain't even got his real name. It's Fyodor Karamazov, see? That's what the old-timer dug up" you try to process what he just said, though you're also tempted to ask what Albin's been doing. But Mike keeps going "and he's been on the payroll of them Material World suits the whole time" hah! What an 'explosive' bombshell. Fitting, is it not? This points to sabotage, then.

"How do you know that?" but you still couldn't jump to conclusions "how do you know this Anton-Fyodor, whatever's his name, is really connected?"

[1/2]

>>6141599
"The proof points to it. His wheels got plates from Material World, see? Earlier today Albin was yappin' with some of Fyodor's pals, and they got a past with Lucian. He shows up right when Material World starts makin' waves; gotta hand it to Jamesfield for sniffin' out that racket" once again you mentally commend the Noirs for their quick reactions: they've wasted no time whatsoever. Uncovering things for the sake of uncovering them, is that truly a way to live? It is. There's living proof right in front of you.

"Maybe we's just seein' it from one side of the coin. Ain't nothin' certain yet, see?" that was an oddly level-headed thought from the most hotheaded Noir. Maybe his stay at the hospital forced him to cool off a little "I know it sounds like a Shapes thing to say, but it's still possible."

"So, what? He just disappeared?" you ask finally. Trying to keep up with the revelations makes you not really listen to Mike's philosophy.

"Pretty much" Mike said, then mumbles something about wanting a smoke.

"And the fireworks were his fault, then" you think to yourself about potentialities "do you think we could've stopped things from escalating?"

"Dunno whose fault was what, though it does seem like he knew more than he let on" Mike answers with a shrug "listen, puttin' a lid on the mess... dwellin' on the could'ves and should'ves doesn't get none anywhere, see?" you could agree with that much. But you should still learn from past mistakes. However, fully disregarding the past leads to chaos.
Still, you could appreciate Mike's words. Probably. You honestly weren't sure if he was giving as a friend or just wanted to stop talking about it.

A knock interrupts any further thoughts. The door is opened slightly, and the same nurse shows his face.

"Five more minutes 'till visiting time is over" he said. Honestly you didn't know why it was so limited. Didn't they have more important things to worry about than forcing people out?

"Gotcha" Mike replies. The nurse slinks back into the hallway as the door closes.

[2/2]

>"You're a kickboxer, right? I haven't heard or seen anything when it comes to that around these parts." In the time you've been driving your taxi, you don't recall seeing even a single place for boxing matches.
>"Might as well take my leave too. Where could I find the others?"
>"Before I leave, I have another question..." (Ask about the Noirs, the criminals, confirm if the rumors about them being in the news is accurate, etc.?)
>Write-in.

>>6141603
>"Might as well take my leave too. Where could I find the others?"

>>6141603
>One more question...
>"So what happened with the two 'friends' we made yesterday?"

>>6141622
>Leave With A Question

>>6141839
>Quick Enemy Update

Will roll between these two and start writing somewhere between three to four hours from now.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>6142187
>1 Leave
>2 Enemies Again

Writing.

"Might as well take my leave too. Where could I find the others?"

You ask the Noir. While it might appear impatient you don't think you'll too much information in so little time. Best not to anger the establishment here, at least.
Besides, you could always ask the other Noirs about anything else you might want to know about. It's not like you were pressed for time. That last thought annoyed you for some reason.

"The others?" Mike ponders for a bit "well, Jamesfield and the Lady are hangin' at the library diggin’ through old records. Shapes should be with Albin at the coppers. Here," he takes another slip of paper from somewhere and writes something on it "is where the fuzz hang their hats. And there" he points to some other scribbles on the paper, you can barely discern it as an address "is my joint. But I ain't stickin' 'round there for long, see?"

"Huh? How come?" honestly you're more curious as to why he's giving you all this information.

"I've been thinkin' 'bout movin' to a new joint. And lemme tell you this isn't just 'cause a' all the ruckus goin' down lately, I've had it in the works for a while, see?"

"I see" as you're about to say something else, Mike clears his throat.

"Listen, I hate ask this, but could you do a favor for me?" you motion for him to continue "there’s a key and a book that the landlady stashed for me. It’s got some of my personal things in it; photos, stuff like that. Do me a solid and bring it over, would you? Anytime in the next few days will do just fine."

>Accept the request.
>Decline politely.
>Write-in.

With an exchange of goodbyes, after you tell Mike you wish for his speedy recovery, you're off.

Passing through the hallway and into the waiting room, you sadly see that the two people you were conversing with (well, one person you were able to successfully communicate with at least) are gone. Their seats are now replaced by others, more people whom you'd never seen before.

You go to the exit, not needing to sign out.

You'd almost forgotten that you parked your car some ways away. It seems like you were just unfortunate in your timing, since there's many free spots now in the hospital's parking lot. You check your taxi again, as well as your cameras. Everything seems to be fine.

[1/2]

>>6142369
You're feeling bored. Driving under the speed limits isn't really helping the ennui go away either.

But maybe that's not a bad thing. Maybe taking it slow isn't so bad. Besides, it wasn't too long since yesterday's madness and taking Lucian to the airport.

You could always think about your day; how you could've done better or worse.

>A bit of a joy drive wouldn't hurt anybody, no?
>Just try to relax. Boredom is just another emotion.
>Go on auto-pilot for a little while and self-reflect.

Anyway, the drive had to end eventually. Actually, you're starting to fear you're running low on gasoline, even though the tank remains more than a quarter-full.

[2/2]

>Go to a gas station. It wasn't too big of an issue yet, but you wanted to get your gas topped off. Maybe you could stop by the convenience store.
>Meet up with either Albin/Shapes at the police station or with Aubrey and Jamesfield at the library. (Whom would you meet with?)
>Towards Mike's apartment you'll go. (This will be either out of curiosity or to help with Mike's request, depending on the first choice made)
>Write-in.

>>6142369
>Accept the request.
Sure thing, man.

>>6142371
>Go on auto-pilot for a little while and self-reflect.
Shadow people! With knife hands! Dead electricians come back to life! What does it all MEAN?

>Towards Mike's apartment you'll go. (This will be either out of curiosity or to help with Mike's request, depending on the first choice made)

>>6142369
>Accept the request.
>>6142371
>Go on auto-pilot for a little while and self-reflect.
>Go to a gas station. It wasn't too big of an issue yet, but you wanted to get your gas topped off. Maybe you could stop by the convenience store.

>>6142377
>>6142385
>Friendly Courier

>>6142377
>>6142385
>Roadside Reflection

>>6142377
>Package Priority

>>6142385
>Go For Gas

I'll roll between the two last ones and start writing in around four to five hours.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>6142698
>1 Package
>2 Station

Writing.

And to the kickboxer's home you shall seek out the package.

It's good to get it done now instead of putting it off for later. It's rude to keep a friend waiting, although Mike gave you a flexible time limit.
Before you know what you're doing you've already parked in front of the doorway. It's a shabby looking apartment complex, with stairs that lead upwards to a door. The block is made entirely of brick building, giving it an old fashioned appearance. In the front porch there were small smatterings of grass and flowers, though you weren't sure if the distance merely gave them the appearance of such and if they were weeds. But even in the weeds there are wildflowers. Nonetheless you had hoped it was not the case.

You find a place to park in front of the building, when a sudden question enters your mind: What were you even doing anymore?

---

A red light stops your taxi. You could easily pass it. There is no traffic whatsoever. And no harm would befall you.
But instead of breaking any road laws you decide to use this time for introspection. The first and most pressing concern to you was as follows: How did you get here?

Everything was happening with too little control. With too little time. Too little knowledge.

The light turned green. Your car accelerated forwards. Rather ironically, there were now many cars waiting in a red light as you passed them with your green. It was unfortunate for them.

But this is no time for letting your mind wander. There are many things to think about, with all the madness that encroached you recently.

You've been dealing with it quite well. Good enough that you can reasonably assume you're subconscious is used to this sort of thing. But how you became used to it to begin with is the question of the hour.

Considering your ribs became miraculously healed from a dream, it's safe to assume strange things have a basis in reality. That was not even taking into account what others said, such as the various implications made by Albin and Shapes about strange happenings going on in certain places, or how the criminals practically confirmed those shadowy beings were real in some regard. As for Joseph Quinous, you suspected there was something else you weren't realizing--something that might seem obvious when looking back but annoyingly eluded you at first glance.
None of these helped with the more fundamental question; 'what this all means', although an answer to that might cause more questions.

But you could best piece this together if you were to simply focus on your missions while grabbing hold of anything that might be familiar. Like that lovely tune from before, almost fading from memory.

In the end you couldn't assure yourself of anything. And all you could do is keep moving forward.

---

[1/2]

>>6142865
You look up at the sky, into the blue again. It's late in the day, but not late enough for the sunset to appear. With more happiness than you ought to have, you whistle a familiar tune as you open the gate and walk up the stairs. You open the front door, glad that it's not locked.

Before you is a spiral staircase. Well, not really spiral in the usual sense, more like a square staircase that led up towards different halls and levels of the building.
These didn't matter to you, at least not as of yet. Your destination was a small office close to the entrance. You knocked on the door and waited.

It was opened by a short woman. She had silver grey hair, but with a face that otherwise exuded youthfulness. A quick look at her appearance couldn't really position her in any age range.

"Hello deary, how can I help you?" her voice, however, was evidence of her being an elder.

"Hi. I'm an acquaintance of Mike. Do you happen to know him?"

"Oh yes. He's quite the brooding young man. Always with a cigar in his mouth--I keep telling him he'll meet the same fate as my late husband if he keeps smoking those sticks" she seemed to ramble a little there at the end.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Don't trouble yourself, it's been more than a decade. But where are my manners!" she claps her hands together "my name is Willow Waters it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr... ?"

>"Johan." Be polite, but keep your distance.
>"My name is Johan, madam. The pleasure is all mine." A bit of flair could help. Maybe Mimi might be rubbing off on you.
>"I'm Johan. Thank you for your time." Extend your hand to shake hers.
>Write-in.

Please, do come in for a chat and some tea. I don't have many visitors lately."

[2/2]

>"I'm sorry ma'am, but I needed to retrieve something for Mike and get it back to him. I was wondering if you could help me here." You're here to get the book and key. You'll go back to the hospital and deliver them to Mike.
>"That sounds wonderful. Thank you madam." She seems like a nice enough old lady. Perhaps you could find something out from her while you spoke? Besides, some tea might be nice.
>"Of course. This is quite a nice place you have here, madam. I'm here on behalf of my friend to pick some things up, if that's alright with you." Take up her offer, but try to be more proactive in getting Mike's stuff.
>Write-in.

>>6142866
>"My name is Johan, madam. The pleasure is all mine." A bit of flair could help. Maybe Mimi might be rubbing off on you.
>"Of course. This is quite a nice place you have here, madam. I'm here on behalf of my friend to pick some things up, if that's alright with you." Take up her offer, but try to be more proactive in getting Mike's stuff.

>>6142926
>Flair And Assertive Tea Drinking

Writing.

"Of course. This is quite a nice place you have here, madam. I'm here on behalf of my friend to pick some things up, if that's alright with you."

You say this keeping your flair's momentum going. She seemed rather charmed by it, though you lacked the skill some of the mimes had back at the circus.
You didn't have to think twice about letting yourself in.

The office looked less like an office and more like a room with a sepia filter on. Small sprinkles of color, mostly from the flowers and photos, bursted through and mixed well with the atmosphere. Vintage floral wallpaper patterns decorated the walls, alongside potted plants and shelves containing all manner of things (though mostly relegated to books). Your host went to get some tea, and to your mild interest you found a tea kettle and miniature stove keeping it warm. A rather utilitarian looking desk was in the back of the room with a computer above it, and both things would look out of place were it not for the flowery and frilly decorations they bore.
First impressions showed that she was savvy in embellishing room interiors.

As you walked the floor creaked. You take a seat by the table. The chair proved to be comfortable, if a little stiff.

She tells you the tea is ready, then gives you a cup.

You take a sip. It's hot, but has a flavor that can only be described as sweet and 'flowery'. It goes down smoothly. Willow informs you it's a tea made of rose petals. Indeed, the aroma and subtle elegance could be felt in the aftertaste. How fancy.

"There's no sugar left here, but I have some cinnamon sticks here if you want them, sweetie" that sounds a bit counter intuitive, considering cinnamon was more expensive. At least from what you last saw in a store.

>Sure, put a stick in it.
>No, the flavor's fine as it is.

She puts one in her own.

"I was thinking about making some camomile tea, but those are usually best for later in the day to get calmer and relax. Green ginger tea is the opposite with that nice punch it has."

"Madam, about what I was here for..." although you wouldn't mind some green tea if it helped you get energized, like she seemed to be implying it'd do.

"Oh dear, am I rambling again?"

"Not at all, madam. Like I said, I'm just here on behalf of a friend. And if at all possible, I don't want to get too sidetracked."

[1/2]

>>6143224
"Of course, dearie" she gets up and moves towards her desk, but then looks back to you "my goodness, this memory of mine isn't what it used to be. What did you say you were looking for?"

"No need to blame your memory, I haven't told you yet. There was a book and a key that Mike wanted to retrieve. I believe he said you had them?"

"I remember he said something about that" she looked a bit pensive for a moment "I have a question, dear. Are you part of the group he always hangs around with?"

>"You mean the Noirs? No, I'm afraid not."
>"I don't know what you're talking about, sorry." (Lie)
>"I know what you're referring to. Why do you ask?"
>Write-in.

>>6143224
>Sure, put a stick in it.
Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
>>6143225
>"I know what you're referring to. Why do you ask?"

>>6143224
>Sure, put a stick in it.

>>6143225
>"I know what you're referring to. Why do you ask?"

>>6143286
>>6143390
>Questions And Cinnamon Sticks

Writing.

Sorry anons, I'm feeling a little sick and tired. I'll try to complete the update by tomorrow but I can't promise anything.

"I know what you're referring to. Why do you ask?"

You take another sip of your tea. The cinnamon stick makes it taste saccharine, and while it doesn't ruin the smoothness it's flavor is almost too much. However you could see yourself liking it if you gave it a chance.

"Mostly from concern of Mike, bless his heart. You see, he’s not the sort to make friends easily. He’s got quite the fiery spirit and finds himself in a bit of a tussle more often than not. When I heard he’d found a bunch of folks who think like him, I thought it was a rough crowd he got himself into."

"Do you happen to know Mike very well?" by the way she was speaking she seemed to be familiar with him.

"Oh no, not at all. I seldom catch a glimpse of him, only when it’s time for him to settle the rent, bless his heart" then what was that all about? Or was this a test to see if you could be trusted?

"Look, here" you show her the small note that Mike gave you of the address "this is his handwriting" you're starting to wish Mike gave you some better proof, or even a code. Wait, what if you were missing a codeword? It could be anything; but you could narrow it down to things the Noirs have said and done recent-

"Why, that's his handwriting alright. And so clean, too" you personally didn't think his handwriting was neatly made. Though she seemed satisfied from the evidence, although if you were in her shoes you'd ask for something more definite "I'll fetch his things for you in just a jiffy, dearie."

She goes behind the desk starts to look around. You hear her rummaging and muttering to herself. You offer to help, but she--with a surprisingly sharp tone--turns it down saying about how she just needed more time.

You wait for a moment more, gently mixing the stick inside the tea. Small pieces of it tear off and dissolve into the liquid, changing the color and aroma ever so slightly. The office is comforting, if a little overwhelmingly sweet, you honestly wouldn't mind living here if you had the chance. The moment it turns three a small cuckoo clock on the wall, which was well camouflaged by the wallpaper and decor, bursts its doors open and reveals a wooden little bird inside. Thrice does it make a small artificial noise before going back inside.
This whole place was filled with small antiques like that, you noticed. Did she collect these sorts of things or where they merely curiosities she gathered during her life?

Eventually she comes back with a rectangular black box that was as big as a suitcase. The name 'Mike' is written on a piece of white tape that's plastered on its top. There's a small lock with a keyhole in it. A very fancy and decorated looking key as well is in her other hand.
The appearance of the box was a rather jarring contrast to the rest of the area, with its utilitarian shape and conspicuously dark color almost demanding attention.

"What's this?" you were expecting a book. You touch the box. It has a metallic feel to it.

[1/2]

>>6144366
"Well, dearie, it's all of Mike's belongings he'd left in my care. He asked this old soul to keep a lovely book safe, and I just couldn't say no--especially after he was so generous to me--so I did my part with all the love in my heart."

"Did Mike give you the box too?"

"Oh sweetheart, not at all! This little thing is something I've crafted all on my own" she says with a little pride as she places the key down on the table, then takes another sip of her tea "cinnamon is an amazing addition, isn't it? Dearie me, all the sweetest things in life all just need a little bit of it, don't you think?" well you wouldn't go that far, but it wasn't bad tasting.

"Madam, I thought I was only going to get a book and a key."

"I'm quite sure there was a book was one of the things inside of there, forgive this old woman's memory if I'm mistaken."

[2/2]

>"What do you mean by 'one of the things in there'?" You were too curious to leave it at that.
>"No need to worry about that, madam. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Willow, I hope we see each other again." Stand up to shake her hand and then leave. Maybe you could send these back to Mike before the day ended.
>"Do you usually keep these sorts of things under such lock-and-key?" You were honestly more interested in the methods she used than anything else. If a Noir like Mike trusted her enough to keep things safe, maybe you could use her services too?
>Write-in.

Sorry for taking so long. I'm starting to feel better now, so there shouldn't be any problems with me updating unless something unexpected happens.

>>6144367
>"What do you mean by 'one of the things in there'?" You were too curious to leave it at that.

>>6144380
>Package Curiosity

Writing.

>>6144063
>>6144368
Glad your'e feeling better, QM! been busy the last couple days, myself.

>>6144925
Thank you anon. Funny you mention that since I might be more busy than usual tomorrow. Hopefully it doesn't stop me from updating lol

----

"What do you mean by 'one of the things in there'?"

The old woman with a youthful face smiles and asks you more questions, dancing around what you'd asked. This time it was pertaining more towards what you know about Mike and the Noirs. You have a grasp on what she's trying to do; she's simply testing your character and would want to see whether you're trustworthy or not. You think.

This is broken by various--and almost sporadically occasional--types of smalltalk; mostly concerning small things like the weather and the news. You're able to learn that some people in this building have been affected by the fires and explosions within the circus as well. She seems to not know about the involvement of the Noirs', nor is she aware of the body that was found and the criminals there (that latter part was something you yourself had trouble in knowing about as well, but you imagined it'd be eventually revealed one way or another).

Moving on from the more glum conversation subjects, you finally are able to circle back to the subject you wished to breach.

"... and the traffic has been simply horrid" it has, yes. But that was besides the point, lady "it reminds me of that time when Mikey" that was a nickname she apparently had for him, choosing only until a few sentences ago to begin using it "gave me some photos of his family- oh goodness! I seem to have been rambling again" indeed she had been. But you're still at ease from the tea's cinnamony flavor.

"Well, if you truly wished to know, Mikey put in some old trophies from his boxing days, some premium cigars, a photo album, and one of those fancy corporate credit cards" seems like she decided that you were trustworthy enough to share this information with.

"I thought he still fought in matches?" the term 'from his boxing days' meant that he was no longer a boxer. This could easily mean he was simply doing kickboxing now, but you wanted to see if there was something else to it.

"He is. But these were from purely legal boxing matches."

"Were these 'legal boxing matches' in contrast to more illegal ones now?"

"Oh no, I wouldn't call it illegal. Maybe... informal is a better term" it was somewhat strange way of phrasing it, yet not exactly something worth currently pursuing with how many things were occurring currently.

"And about credit card..." if it was anything similar to yours, you felt like you needed to know more.

[1/2]

>>6144948
"It's just what it sounds like, a nice green card that was private in many ways, but none that really mattered. Still a mole for the IAC" there was that acronym again "but I don't know anything else about it--if it's his or not--only that Mikey had it and wanted it safe" you apparently had a disappointed look on your face, since she followed up with "I'm sorry if I couldn't help you there, dear. Maybe you could ask him yourself."

>"I think I'll do just that. See you later, madam. Thank you for inviting me, the tea was delicious."
>Continue to make smalltalk with her for the rest of the evening. She's might share some interesting advice.
>Ask another question and/or request being able to store things as well. (Anything in specific or not?)
>Write-in.

>>6144949
>"I think I'll do just that. See you later, madam. Thank you for inviting me, the tea was delicious."

>>6144949
>"I think I'll do just that. See you later, madam. Thank you for inviting me, the tea was delicious."

>>6144957
>>6144994
>Thanks For All The Tea

Writing. Might not have time for it today though.

>>6145485
Fair enough. Thanks for keeping us in the loop.

"I think I'll do just that. See you later, madam. Thank you for inviting me, the tea was delicious."

"Going already? Well that's a shame, but don't let me keep you here" she smiled sweetly "tell Mike I wish him a healthy recovery."

You both say your goodbyes, take the box and key, and you return to your taxi. However you come back to find that a side door had some grafitti and a scratch that you know wasn't there before. Naturally you feel angry at this turn of events and look at the cameras' recordings to see what happened.

In there you find the culprit being a teenage boy and a teenage girl, who had apparently tripped while holding some utensils. Upon seeing the scratch on your car she girl panics and then tries to write something on the car, but the boy stops her midway and they both run away. The boy you do not recognize, but the girl looks familiar for some reason.
Seeing how it was a mere accident by two teenagers quenches your outrage. But it doesn't get rid of the fact your taxi had a scratch on it. It was rather unsightly.
How odd was it, that it survived unscathed for so long and went through so much only to get its first scratch from such a random time and place.

You sigh, not finding the motivation to make yourself stressed.

There was still work to do. Well, more like there was something you had to deliver for your friend. A sense of deja-vu envelops you as you recall the strange dream where a package containing gold, weapons, and ammunition melted into the grass. You feel regretful for some reason, yet also a sense of relief is extant. As if you no longer had to worry about something that brought your life down.

The black box was tempting, a reminder of something you once lost? Or perhaps it was nothing at all?

>Open it. You want to see what's inside with your own two eyes.
>Don't open it. Such a violation of privacy might not go unnoticed by Mike.
>Write-in.

No matter. You start the car and decide to go back to the hospital, not wishing to waste any more daylight. Perhaps the drive would help you clear your mind from any troubles.

Unlike last time you can't really make yourself think of anything. The taste of cinnamon clung on, reminding you of the nice aroma within the apartment.
Now that you thought about it in hindsight, Willow Waters did emanate a very offputting aura. She was very obviously old, yet looked young. Her office was carefully crafted, perhaps to make people lower their guard? You couldn't say for certain, though many small things there seemed to sharpen your memories into paranoia. Maybe you were making too many assumptions. Nontheless, you'd have to exersice caution around people like her.

It feels like the drive to the hospital took more time than coming from it. But looking at the clock you can tell it was around the same time.

[1/2]

>>6145849
You go through the motions once more, and find yourself in the front desk again. The same young woman was still there, taking orders.

"Hi, sir. How can I help you?" the same receptionist from earlier was still smiling, although you could see some tired wrinkles on her face as it became more forced. She didn't seem to recognize you.

"Could I visit someone?" you honestly just want to get this over with.

"Sure. Can I get your name?" she requests professionally.

"It's Johan" by the time you say it out loud you realize your mistake. A few typed in words and her smile starts to crack.

"I'm sorry Johan, but we don't allow multiple same day visits currently."

"Currently? What do you mean by that?"

"Sir, we're currently overwhelmed by the amount of victims we had to take in" she explains. Her tone leave you with the distinct impression that she's spoken these words more than once today.

"He asked me to get some things from his home, I just wanted to give them to him is all" you try to reason.

"You can leave these here with us, sir. But I can't promise he'll get them today."

"So I can just leave them and you'd do the rest?"

"It'll be given to him in one to three business days" she clarifies. You frown.

>Agree and hand it over.
>Don't. It's not worth the hassle.
>Why did you have to go by the rules? You could easily break in and give it to him.
>Write-in.

After that, you think about where you'd go next...

[2/2]

>Go back to Hotel Oasis.
>A gas station, your tank is only getting emptier.
>To the hardware store. You think you recall something that could help in fixing the car's scratch.
>Write-in.

Once again my apologies for being late.

>>6145849
>Give the package a gentle shake and listen to it
Hopefully nothing breaks, but we can say it was a bumpy ride... Can't help msyelf.

>>6145850
>Don't. It's not worth the hassle.
>To the hardware store. You think you recall something that could help in fixing the car's scratch.

>>6145858
Life happens. I'm just glad to see a quality QM sticking with a proper slow-boil mystery quest.

>>6145867
+1