CHAPTER ONE: Murray's Journey: Following

[Mr. Handy]

Murray takes out his wallet. "Two tickets, please," he says. "How much?"

[Laraqua]

There's no response.

[Mr. Handy]

"Hmm..." says Murray, squinting into the ticket office. The writing on the tickets calls to him, and he really wants to know what it says. Then he thinks of something, puts away his wallet, and takes out his camera. He uses its controls to adjust for the gloom and zoom in to get a better look at the tickets and the silhouette.

[Mr. Handy]

Unfortunately, the lighting is too terrible for Murray to get a clean shot. With a shrug, he turns the camera off and puts it away. "Let's see if we can find another way in." He heads around to the entrance on the left of the box office and tries the door there.

[Laraqua]

The emergency doors look to be in a poor state of repair with peeling white paint and a slightly rusty handle but it still seems to be locked firmly. Going further around the building finds the back entrance in a little parking lot that holds a dumpster and a small white painter's van. The rear door sits a couple of concrete steps off the ground. It's also firmly locked but as Murray takes his hand off the knob, he thinks he hears something.

Show,Roll Listen and Spot Hidden.

[Mr. Handy]

Murray pauses, his ears picking up the sound clearly, though he sees nothing.

[Laraqua]

There's the slight sounds of shuffling footsteps coming from behind the van.

[Mr. Handy]

Murray whirls around and faces the van. "Who's there?" he calls.

[Laraqua]

Something hisses and the scuffling draws closer. A figure steps around the edge of the van, slouched over as if its clutching at a gunshot wound, barbed chains like long hair hanging from its head, and a gash in its otherwise featureless face where the nose should be with big, thick red lips that part spasmodically to reveal a set of insectile pincers and crab-like claws. Its entire body seems to be a mottled, bruised, rubbery flesh, but its breasts and genitalia are anatomically accurate. It hisses again and comes toward him with startling speed, though he still has but a moment to react, while Craig does nothing but stare on in shock.

[Mr. Handy]

"Holy crap!" cries Murray, instinctively whipping out his revolver. He fires wildly from the hip at the monster.

OOC,Are we at point blank range (within 12 feet for me)? If so, then that roll will hit. At least it's not a critical failure (that would be 96-100). Do I have time for another shot before it reaches me?

[Laraqua]

Show,it is within 12 yards and you can make your second shot.

[Mr. Handy]

Murray's first shot drills the thing hard. His second shot is more accurate now that he has time to aim, not to mention even more devastating. The bullet blasts it right through the gash in its face.

OOC,Point blank range is 12 feet, not 12 yards.

[Laraqua]

The creature hits the dirt, squirming, its wounds weeping a sickly phosphorescent ichor that glows yellow in the foggy gloom.

Show,sorry, I meant within 12 feet but I'm used to WoD and therefore in thinking in yards.

[Mr. Handy]

"What the hell is that thing?" mutters Murray as he fishes out a couple of spare bullets and reloads them into the two empty chambers in his revolver. The adrenalin seeps out of him as the moment of crisis passes, and he just feels tired now. "We'd better get inside in case there are any others. Craig, you mentioned you had keys to a lot of places in town. Do you have keys to this theater? If not, I may be able to get the door open, but it'll take a bit longer."

OOC,That's okay. CoC also usually uses yards, but point blank range is DEX in feet.

[Laraqua]

Craig nods weakly and heads up the steps to the back door, fumbling with some keys in his pockets. "Yes, I-I ... used to volunteer here, as an actor, been all about Silent Hill, really."

[Mr. Handy]

"Great," says Murray. "I'll cover you while you open the door." He stays alert, looking out for any sign of more danger.

[Laraqua]

Craig shakes off his fear and strides up those few steps, ducking down to try various keys in the locks, before finally producing one that slipped in and turned with a click.

The world outside is grey, miserable, and silent, but Murray gets the damndest feeling that he's being watched. There's a prickle across his skin and it runs down his spine, setting his nerve on edge to the smallest crack and sigh of the theatre's settling.

"Do you know ... do you know where she might be?" asked Craig. "Inside here?"

[Mr. Handy]

Murray shrugs. "The guy just said she was in the theater," he says. "I figured we could ask whoever's in charge." He leads the way inside, looking around the corner before entering. "Better lock the door behind you after you enter, just in case."

[Laraqua]

Craig hesitates outside, peering back in through the gloom, before letting the door slam shut behind him where it auto-locks with a click. "Who's in charge? Y'think someone's kidnapped her?"

[Mr. Handy]

"Not as far as I know," says Murray, taking out his flashlight, "though he did seem to think she might be in danger. No, I meant we could ask whoever runs the theater." He turns on the light and takes a good look around.