CHAPTER ONE: Jack's Journey: Opening Hours

[Laraqua]

Being as the bottle is open and simply clogged with cloth, and he's crouched down, there is the risk that it'll spill within his coat if he did need to run and gun. Of course, his pockets are deep enough that that is hardly much of a risk but he bears it in mind as he slips the bottle in his trenchcoat. He waits for several bone chilling moments and he's sure he can hear something tap-tap-tap its way down the stairs but he can't make anything out in the gloom. Has the fog somehow invaded the cellar? Even the silhouette of gloomy light seems somewhat gauzy.

[Seon]

He clicked the lighter back open and looked around quickly.

[Laraqua]

The lighter's still warm but no longer dangerously so. The sudden flicker of light is met with a churlish meow as the tiny kitten comes into view and pads over toward Jack. Nope, still no sign of the killer. Maybe there's no one down here. There doesn't seem to be any nooks and crannies where a circus freak can hide.

[Seon]

Jack sighed, and began to search the locker more throughly.

[Laraqua]

This time Jack manages to find both the spare fuses and the spare batteries (kept in two different pencil cases, of course). He's got enough batteries to get his flashlight working and, if they're fully charged, that should give him about a day's worth of juice. Of course, some batteries will only see him through the night but surely that's all he'll need. Unless Rochelle put half-used batteries in here. Or even empty ones. The kitten hops up onto his shoe as he searches, pricks the shoe with its claws to make itself comfortable, and then is curled up and trying to sleep by the time he's found them.

[Seon]

Jack set the shotgun down and fit batteries into the flashlight. He clicked it on, and then clicked off the lighter once he was done.

He put the shotgun back into some hidden depth in the trench coat and then gently cradled the cat. He turned towards the gloom and went up the stairs.

[Laraqua]

The flashlight works perfectly now. He does feel a lot more comfortable. He's only got two more spare pockets, though, but hopefully he shouldn't have to carry any more oddments. He can fit the kitten into one of the pockets, if he'd like to, as the pockets are so deep the kitten is unlikely to be able to climb out with any ease and he'd have plenty of warning if it tried to do so. As the flashlight roams across the walls, you notice that there's white spray paint graffitti beneath the stairs that you tells you: Those Who Wait In Silence Die In Silence.

[Seon]

"Thanks," Jack said. If he had a hat, he would be tipping it now to the graffiti. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

He put the kitten in one of his pockets and went upstairs, picking up the shotgun as soon as he got a free hand. "Now where's that darn fusebox?"

[Laraqua]

The fusebox is in the kitchen. The entrance to which is opposite Rochelle's office. The "Staff Only" door between the bar and the short corridor stands ajar. Did you leave it open when you collected the flashlight? Or has someone been recently through here? Approaching the doorway, Jack can easily see slight bloody smears heading from the front door through the "Staff Only" corridor. It's getting cold again, already, despite the fact that the heaters haven't been off for very long. Or maybe it's just the fear. Whoever killed that man killed him messily, albeit quickly, and was strong enough to dent your car (are you even insured against a man's fists?).

[Seon]

Jack pulled out his Molotov cocktail, set it aside on the counter, and then took out his shotgun. Whatever's in there could dent cars, but a shotgun could punch right through cars.

Jack managed to, with all the skill of a ninja, if ninjas had shotgun, to sneak silently into the corridor. His flashlight was off, of course. And, although he couldn't hear anything in particular, He could just make out the shales in the darkness.

[Laraqua]

The doorway to your left is slightly ajar just as the first one had been. At first he can't hear anything, but then he hears a dish crash down from the sink and shatter across the tiles. Yeesh! That's something he's going to have to tidy up. The kitten growls quietly but it's largely muffled in the coat. You don't think it's loud enough to draw hiss attention, and even if it did, the circus freak won't be expecting a man with a shotgun to be stepping around the corner.

OOC,You didn't include your last link! Also, what's a shale?

[Seon]

Spoiler:

I rolled spot hidden

[Seon]

Roll for initiative, Jack thought as he rounded the corner and pointed the shotgun at the direction of the sink.

[Laraqua]

A shadowy figure stands by the sink, its dark clothing hanging from it in tattered rags, as the figure lurches with a drunken stagger just past the sink. It's hard to make out the details of whoever it is but it doesn't seem large enough or muscular enough to have been responsible for damaging his car, at least. Maybe it's an injured patron? He could get that lucky. The kitten continues to growl loudly in his pocket.

[Seon]

"Hey, DUMBASS, enjoying the bar?!" Jack yelled at the figure, keeping his shotgun carefully aimed a the person.

Spoiler:

Do I get a bonus to my chance to hit if I aim at him for a long time?

[Laraqua]

The figure swept around and it's proportions, or the way it moves, the sickening drunken swagger, seems to ratchet up your feeling of unease. There's a scent to the air. One of piss, puss, stale sweat, and staler liquour that assaults your nostrils. The figure staggers towards you through the gloom and there seems to be something wrong with its left hand or perhaps its holding something triangular. It's too dark to tell but you can at least make it out well enough to know its likely trouble.

OOC,You won't get the chance to aim but you do have the chance to hit first because you surprised them.

[Seon]

"F*** this," Jack muttered. He pulled the trigger.

Bang! Pellets from the shotgun hit the target with Enough force to incapacitate a normal person.

[Laraqua]

The bullets tore through the creature as it swaggers forward, the odd hand held low, the other swinging up behind it as though to help it keep its balance. More of that cloth (is it cloth?) tatters and something foul spatters against the wall behind it. As he struggles to pull the shotgun down the last few inches from the recoil, it staggers the final few paces and breathes fetid breath from same gaping hole of a mouth, it's so dark he can't see its features, it doesn't cry out, doesn't scream, just slumps forward against him. As he instinctively tries to push it off and move away from it, he feels its rubbery flesh and realises the tattered 'cloth' is extra skin hanging loosely from it in ribbons. It hits the ground beside him and thrashes about, nails raking against tiles, and something hard smacking down against and again from its other hand.

[Seon]

Jack quickly pointed his shotgun at the creature in point blank range, then fired, obliterating the creature.

[Laraqua]

The creature is now a spattered mess. It's only now that the adrenaline is beginning to die down, that other details filter into his shocked mind. There was a noise out by the front door. A woman's voice calling out. Not panicked nor angry. He can't remember any of the other details. He sure wasn't paying attention. He could always go out and check or he could fix the fuse box first. It should be an easy matter to replace a broken fuse and then he'd have lights and heat to chase away the damn cold.

OOC,Remember to feed in the links! I'll assume you hit that time, but yeah, don't forget next time or you may need to re-roll.