FEAR GAUGE

Ahagl's soth l' ah'lloigshogg mgng nilgh'ri!

DICE ROLL

#1 Stephanie Graves (Stephanie) 2/5
#2 Gina Schuyler (Khalil) 2/5
#3 Artair Hawke 1/5
#4 Ranger 1/5

✿

If Stephanie had been told she would be spending her Halloween with a demon, a celtic warrior, and a cowboy… well, she would have believed it because it was Halloween, but she did not anticipate joining ranks with such a group of misfits. Stephanie liked to work alone; even as The Silhouette, she rarely took on partners and even Poseidon limited her team missions. Without her powers, going it alone was a bad idea. Khalil seemed to be brokering a peace, and Stephanie tried to reason that it would be unlikely for the pyromancer to have set up an elaborate plan involving two people she had never met cornering her.

Then again, it was equally unlikely that two people would casually stroll up to them as the world turned upside-down. She would continue to keep a small distance between herself and the three men.

The cowboy caught Stephanie’s attitude because it was literally being thrown in his face, but he only replied with a brusque sarcastic comment. That was fine; his friendly, down-home Texan act could fly down south, but they were in New York. Despite her Carolinian accent, she was going to deal with the crisis like a New Yorker: with salt and attitude.

As much as teaming up with the group sounded like a bad decision, the Scot was right; there was no telling how much worse things could get from there. ”Thank you kindly, sir.”

Since the cowboy was some kind of mutant with special eyes, he was designated to lead the group. Stephanie stayed a few steps behind him, content to let the muscular stranger face-check any trouble they might walk into. He was not an idiot, at least; he had the sense to find an intersection so they could orient themselves.

They continued walking, but Stephanie kept looking over her shoulder. Khalil and the Scotsman were a few steps behind, but she could not shake the feeling that something was watching her. Occasionally, she thought she felt the presence of a mysterious touch grazing the back of her neck. It was an unsettling sensation and Stephanie’s eyes were darting around, looking for any signs of danger. It was as if the foggy air around her was its own sentient evil.

Stephanie spotted two street signs, suggesting they succeeded, but something concerned her. ”The hell? I don’t know this place!” Stephanie knew New York front to back; knowing the cities she was occupying was a point of pride because it meant knowing all escape routes and hiding places. Was the fog around her warping reality? Was it causing her to hallucinate? What if it even dragged her to a different…

The realization that she was in a different reality with different streets resulted in equal parts frustration and embarrassment. Feeling the red in her face, she grumbled, ”Right, nevermind. I’m useless, again.” The thief was clearly annoyed. ”I hope one of you boys know where we are?” She hoped the plan had not fallen apart since their group consisted of two Rippers, a Scotsman, and a Texan.

Everything was just swell, all facts considering-- nothing had attacked them, anyways. Khalil was on-edge, but totally fine, and then--

It started with a quickening of his pulse, the kind that you could feel in your eyes, and made the corners of your vision darken. He nodded to show that he understood, but the cheeky grin had faltered off of his face. Protect Stephanie, or else. Protect Malia, she didn't deserve this. What if he couldn't? What if these guys were just agents of whatever-the-f*** this was?

Khalil nodded to the cowboy, too. He couldn't let them know that he was onto them. But his hands were steaming now, from the heat that roiled off of them. They fell into line and Khalil was at odds with himself. Where should he walk? With Stephanie? With the Scotsman who was eyeing daggers his way? Or in the rear? He needed to protect Stephanie, but... what good did fire do, if he was right next to her? He might burn her.

So Khalil opted for the back of the pack, the only explanation he offered the Scotsman being, "Can't throw fireballs if I'm in the middle."

Also, couldn't trust some assumed mutant-hating guy in a Scotsman costume to walk behind him. Nooooo thank you. Khalil walked at the back, embers rising up from his hands, getting ready to catch. He could swear he saw... something... in the darkness. A shapeless kind of ominous thing, darker than dark. But there also... wasn't... anything. Right?

The hairs stood-up on the back of his neck. Even when petrified, the scarlet-skinned demon played with his cards close to his chest. Stephanie was shrieking (yes, shrieking) about not knowing where they were... Khalil probbably wouldn't either. He was used to seeing things from above, not ground-level. Nothing looked right down here. Even without the weird murkiness around them.

"In deep sh**," Khalil murmured, more to himself than to Stephanie. Fear only made him run his mouth more. Nervous energy and all that. He had to make light of the situation, or else he'd go over the edge. Remembering himself, he clapped a smoldering hand over his mouth-- that's right. Little ears. He couldn't tell if Malia had heard him or not though.

They had the front man, the lass and her child were obviously taking the safest place in the middle so that left the back. Which the friendly neighborhood demon quickly took as his own place. Frowning slightly, he wasn't entirely pleased with having an unknown and suspicious person covering everyone's back but he made a good point. If he was stuck in the middle chances are he couldn't let loose with his power and fire sounded very appealing in the darkness. Turning his gaze back to the woman, "Sounds fair to me, guess I'm in the middle with you. Anything happens get behind me. I can cover us."

It seemed recently he was always on shield duty but hey, he was pretty damn good at it. Being able to stop attacks to the more vulnerable people was a solid plan too and without knowing the extent of the others power he couldn't be sure if they were up to the task.

In other circumstances their rather odd looking party would be laughable but joy seemed a long way off when faced with the almost living blackness surrounding them. Worse still sounds were distorted. Footsteps too quiet and distant for how near they were to each other, distant echoes of unseen things and worse, he could swear under it all he could hear water. A lot of it. He wasn't that close to the river was he? Or had this thing moved them around the city?

Trying to ignore the distant sound and the light splashing his feet made on the rain soaked ground they came to the intersection. "Don't look at me, I'm definitely not a local. If you say it's wrong I'm not gonna argue."

F***ing perfect. They weren't just stuck in a weird cloud of somethingness, they were lost inside of it. Getting further away from the real world with each step. Fear and anger battled for control which just frayed at his already short temper. "My call is we say f*** it and just choose a direction. We'll either hit a building and be able to follow that up the street or find whatever it is that's doing this."

He did hope whatever, or whoever, was causing this was listening. The Scot wasn't a fan of being messed with, worse he wasn't happy about a kid being dragged into this mess. If they did find the source of this mess he was going to have a few choice words for them.

While the rest debated he drew the sword again, this time drawing his focus in for longer and forcing the construct around the prop. It was tough, and he still hadn't quiet gotten the trick down if he needed it quick but damn was it useful. Expelling a deep breath and throwing the energy into it, he made a psychic sword around the one in his hand.

A couple of experimental swings and he was satisfied it wasn't about to shatter. Like last time. The weapon wasn't perfect, way bulkier than a normal sword would be and a little heavier but it was more energy efficient than a pure construct. Artair had a feeling he'd need the extra time.

Ranger was leading and the rest of the party fell into a formation. Hot hands was to take up the rear and the swordsman was in the middle with the ladies. This would give the ladies the highest survival chance if something happened. What interested Ranger was that hot hands took the rear because he could throw fireballs.

Knowing what those you were with could do was essential for survival. If they were working with you, then you could work together better. If they opposed you, then you knew their capabilities to defeat them. As General Mattis once said, “Be polite, be professional, but have a plan to kill everybody you meet.”

As they reached an intersection, a pair of street signs came into view. Ranger looked at them and couldn’t see any words. The temperature of the letters wasn’t different enough for him to see them in enough detail. It was like trying to read when you have the worst possible glasses prescription. It seemed no one in the party was familiar enough with New York City.

The woman was from across the rip, they must number the streets differently. And her face lit up, Ranger guessed from embarrassment. Hot hands offered no help and the swordsman wasn’t a local. The swordsman wanted to choose a direction and just walk.

”No one has a phone? They have maps, just have t’ find this intersection.” Ranger pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. Uniform coloring across the screen. All the same temperature. ”I cain’t read the sign or see what’s on my phone.” He waved off any potential questions, ”Thermal vision, I cain’t turn it on an’ off.” He held it out for someone to look at after he blindly traced his unlock pattern and hoped it was right.

This meant he was facing toward the swordsman when he just randomly started swinging his sword as if it was a weapon. It was better than nothing but Ranger decided he might not be of much use. With infrared vision running Ranger couldn’t see the psychic construct of a sword around the plastic sword.

It was working, or so Agnes believed. She could feel the fear seeping into every square inch of grass, every bit of playground equipment, and into the heads of every person who wandered through. They were all ripe for the picking, like walking bustles of apples ready to be taken, cut up, and baked into a crisp, flaky pie. Oooh, how the Old Ones would love this treat. These hapless human minds will be so enticing just sitting on the window sill, cooling, waiting for the cosmic terrors to enter their world.

However, Agnes stopped when she felt the presence of her sister being beset upon by intruders. She did not like that and, clearly, they needed to boost their effort if they were going to create a large enough offering.

”Forgive us...but we shall not be disturbed.” She matched her sister’s tone as she spoke. Hands up, Agnes red eyes flared brighter as she reached out, pushing the severity of her fear influence deeper into the minds of everyone present. Agnes always had a little bit more imagination than her other sisters, so something creative was needed.

If Agatha could be disturbed, then there was a distinct possibility that she could be as well. However, she wouldn’t lash out with just any attack, she needed guardians...specifically those whom others would find it difficult to fight.

With intense focus, the blonde girl dug into the minds of everyone within the terrordome. People were already screaming and clawing at the ground, but she needed a specific set of individuals. Their minds young, their bodies adorable, the children would make the most perfect of protectors. So she sang to them, only them, deep within their minds a song that only they could hear.

Coooome little chiiiildren, I'll take theeeee awaaaay, Into a laaand of enchantmeeeeeent...

The song was implant into the very core of every child’s mind, digging its roots deep. Soon cringing, terrified children all over the park were limp and still. Eyes wide, they marched towards the playground, each of them picking up something that could be used as a weapon. Sticks, stones, glass bottles, even pieces of their own costumes. And the closer they drew, the more twisted they became, with devilish faces ready to tear any interloper limb from limb.

Feeling her new army marching to protect her, Agnes sighed as she resumed her position atop the playground. A satisfied smile, she returned to the ritual and whispered to the heavens...

”Forgive our interruption, Great Ones. Let us continue…”

FEAR GAUGE

Ahagl's soth l' ah'lloigshogg mgng nilgh'ri!

DICE ROLL

#1 Stephanie Graves (Stephanie) 2/5
#2 Gina Schuyler (Khalil) 3/5
#3 Artair Hawke 2/5
#4 Ranger 1/5

✿

Stephanie could not f***ing believe four adults were getting stumped by a pair of street signs. The whole plan was to orient themselves and find the right direction, but no one stopped to consider if they could. Three members of the group had no knowledge of New York city streets and the fourth had special eyes that were great in the dark and terrible for reading. Her faith in their quest was deteriorating quickly.

There was still a sense of panic Stephanie could not shake, but it did not stop her from feeling annoyance toward Khalil for muttering a swear not four feet from Malia. The cowboy offered his phone and Stephanie rolled her eyes and snatched it. ”For the love of—I’ll check.” After briefly flipping through the screens, she got to the man’s map app.

”And we are… out of service.” Her voice deflated as the phone refused to assist her with any information. ”Of course,” she muttered, shoving the phone back into the cowboy’s chest. ”OF COURSE! Why would we expect anything to work in this upside-down lookin—what the frick, Scotty?”

On instinct, Stephanie stepped forward to place herself between Malia and the Scotsman, who was holding some kind of energy weapon that looked far more impressive than his prop sword. Stephanie was unsure what her plan was to deal with the swinging sword, but she knew she would die before letting Malia be vulnerable. ”If you are looking to start trouble, I… he can roast your butt before you get a swing in,” she growled, gesturing to Khalil. With no other options, Khalil had to be her champion; no one else would be.

Stephanie was staring down the swordsman, trying not to tremble, totally oblivious to the shuffling of small feet around the park. She was so concerned with protecting her daughter, she did not even realize her daughter was quietly and willingly walking away in the same direction as her peers…

Khalil had a flip phone, a basic little piece-of-crap phone due to his proclivity for burning them. No point in getting something flashy (which he desparately wanted) if it'd just go-up in flames. Besides, all of his phones were pay-as-you-go burners so that it was harder for authorities to find him.

The demon was noticeably distracted as the cowboy offered up his phone, focused more on the pulse between his ears than the conversation at-hand. He could hear himself breathing. His vision was swimming. This place was feeling more-and-more oppressive and the dread that washed over Khalil was starting to be too much. Still, he could feel his eyes throbbing against the darkness. And still, it looked like something was moving in the din, moving towards them.

NO, THERE WAS REALLY SOMETHING THERE. Finally, Khalil's hands caught flame, the yellow-green flame licking up past his wrists.

"The f**k is that!?" Khalil demanded, loud enough for the group to hear. There was definitely something there-- his light-sensitive eyes told him that. His heart hammered against his ribs. Stephanie had human-eyes, and the Scot with the glowing sword (oh, so he wasn't a mutant-hater, he was just a d**k...) likely also had human eyes... "Hey, Thermal Vision, you seein' this?"

If those f**kers, whatever the Hell they were, got to close, Khalil would torch them without a second throught. The first figure moved into his field of view, a little girl dressed as a ballerina... then another, a little boy dressed as a ninja... a kid in an apple costume, a teddy bear, a Power Ranger... kids with the same flat expression(s) stepping out of the gloom, barely registering the quartet of adults standing on the sidewalk.

"Oh Hell no," Khalil muttered. Torching full-grown adults was one thing-- a majority of the time, they deserved it-- but not kids. The flames dissipated from his hands, "The Hell is wrong with them?"

Khalil felt like he was going to be sick.

Oh yeah, he had so many pockets in his b----- kilt. Oodles of rooms to store a phone, his wallet, emergency rations and a damn umbrella for good measure. Seriously some people and their daft questions. Thank God Mister walking stereotype had one, he couldn't see. Because of course he couldn't. Any other time he'd have been intrigued by an unusual mutation with restrictions, now however, it was just one more thing to add to the s--- pile that was that evening.

Which meant his move to prepare for the worst had to be misunderstood, the mother screeching at him like a banshee and nearly shaking his control enough to drop the construct altogether. "Jesus f---ing Christ woman you ever heard of being ready for anything. We are in a pretty dangerous situation in case you haven't forgotten. Maybe, just maybe I'm trying to make sure we don't get jumped by lord know's what with our trousers down." Who the hell did this person think he was? Did she really think he was about to start hacking people apart just like that. In front of a kid. What the hell kind of stuff had she seen to make her assume people were like that!?

And that damn sound was louder! There was no way they'd gotten that close to the ocean without noticing and yet there it was. Crashing waves, close enough he could almost smell the salt on the air, feel the waves lapping at his feet. Wait, no that wasn't his imagination, glancing down there was water swelling back and forth around his boots. High enough to go above his ankles.

No. no, no, no, no. Not that. Anything but that. Artairs heart hammered hard in his chest, palms went sweaty and breathing rate rocketed. He couldn't drown. Not now, not here.

Meanwhile, while they'd managed to wander right into low tide and a panic attack was threatening fire hands got upset. Was it seriously the time when the tide was coming in and they were smack bang in it's way. Looking up he was greeted by something possibly worse than the tide. Children, shambling along towards some unseen goal. Children. Like the one with them. Moving mindlessly and with some very evil looks on their faces.

The string of swearing that left his mouth probably started in English but at some point it shifted to Gaelic and didn't stop. This cloud, this damn nightmarish place was messing with kids minds.

Growling out a response, "Guess we have a direction then. Follow me or don't but I'm f---ing ending this before they get hurt." Without waiting for any input he was marching in the direction the kids were moving, feet splashing in the water.

The woman took his phone to check the map, the problem being that Ranger was out of service. She shoved his phone back at him before freaking out about the swordsman. Her reaction was quite over the top considering he was brandishing what appeared to be a plastic sword. That or Ranger was missing something.

The woman informed the swordsman the other man could roast him before he could get a swing in. Ranger looked at her like she was out of her mind. A dark unexplainable smoke had rolled over them and he was testing his sword after announcing they needed to move on. If he wanted to attack he wouldn’t have drawn attention before doing so.

And… the swordsman informed her of that.

”Everyone calm down, we-” Ranger said before he was cut off by hot hands. Ranger turned to look at hot hands who then asked if he could see something. Ranger noticed that his hands were now alight.

Ranger looked and moving through the smoke was a series of children.”It’s… kids.” They were wearing Halloween costumes and many had bags like they had just been trick-or-treating.

Hot hands dismissed his flames and asked what was wrong. Ranger approached a kid wearing a pirate costume and waved his hand in front of the kids face. No response.

And the swordsman was swearing like a sailor before he drifted off into another language. Ranger guessed he continued to swear in that one as well. Finally he announced he he was ending this and headed off in the direction the kids were walking. Before he followed Ranger looked around the party, and noticed that, ”The kid’s gone.” Ranger said it with a sinking feeling. The little girl must have been caught up in whatever was making all these other kids move.

Ranger scanned the direction the kids were moving but couldn’t tell if any of them were the woman’s kid. Ranger moved to follow the swordsman. He had the right idea, end this before the kids get hurt. Whoever or whatever was causing this was about to get an object lesson in why you don’t mess with kids.

Agnes was could feel victory on the cusp of her fingertips. The ritual was almost complete and the sacrifices were being made. She could feel the people throughout the park beginning to rend themselves of flesh and bone. Around her location, children were setting themselves up, each and every one of them armed with something blunt or sharp. It was the perfect defense, a wall of children who could allow no one near her. Agnes was pleased, but also there was a growing concern in the pit of her stomach. Her sister’s seemingly, were in trouble.

She could hear, alongside her sisters, Abigail being confronted upon the rooftop of the hotel. She arched her brow curiously but paused. Add to that, someone was advancing on Agatha as well. It seemed that they were being advanced upon by minds that were stronger than the rest of the rabble. That was unfortunate. She rolled her neck, silently agreeing with her sisters on their next course of action.

>> "Excuse me, miss, are you alright?"

”We are more than ‘alright’,” she hissed at her invisible interloper, seeing through her sister’s eyes. ”We are are about to open the tear. You shall bear witness to the Old Ones, finally claiming what is theirs. But their visage comes at a price…” she whispered. ”What do you fear most?” Another arch of her back and woman opened her mouth in a silent scream as she looked skyward. ”No more games. We unleash the full might of the Old Powers!”

The dark smoke increased in strength and speed. A maelstrom ripped through the park, shaking the equipment and rattling the trees on all sides. Agnes seemed unscathed, though, her eyes narrowing at her invisible enemy but survey the sea children to stood in defense of her. If this world wanted to challenge fear, then they would see it at full force.

Unseen by all except those within the influence of the darkness, the sky high above the city cracked open. A psychedelic array of colors, patterns, and nightmarish designs stood in contrast against the inky black sky around the split in reality. And from this gap in space and time, the universe moved an dizzying speeds, so fast that the human eye could barely look at it without keeling over in a seizure. The headache-inducing display was muted though, but by something far more horrible. In the sky above New York, eclipsing the dazzling spectacle there were the darkened silhouettes of horrors that the mind could not grasp. Undulating masses with far too many limbs or no discernable shape, while some were of such geometrical perfection that it seemed impossible, and then those people of vague, monstrous yet humanoid shape that looked ready the pluck the very sun out of the sky.

Anyone within the aura of these three girls, anyone slightly affected, will look up and see the most horrible of things imaginable...the realization of just how small and insignificant they truly were.

FEAR GAUGE

Ahagl's soth l' ah'lloigshogg mgng nilgh'ri!

DICE ROLL

#1 Stephanie Graves (Stephanie) 4/5
#2 Gina Schuyler (Khalil) 4/5
#3 Artair Hawke 3/5
#4 Ranger 1/5

✿

The carnival of horrors was starting to get to Stephanie, whose skin was crawling from head to toe. She wanted to take Malia and just run. There was no plan for where they could run, but it was starting to matter less to her. She was surrounded by strangers and a member of the Syndicate and everything was out of place and the darkness felt like it was closing in and she couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears. If she kept running with Malia close at hand, eventually she had to escape, right?

Tensions were running high, and Khalil was ready to start some problems. For once, the little pyro’s tendencies were fine by her, because she was tired of the darkness. With Khalil’s arms ignited, enough light hit Stephanie for her to finally feel the presence of her shadow. It would not have much reach, but it was better than nothing and would let her pummel her problems.

The problems were not just her own, however; the others tried to drag her attention away and as suspicious as she was, she still turned around out of fear of something coming upon her. There were children walking in a single direction in a trancelike state, and Stephanie’s skin was still crawling at the “Children of the Corn” quality of it all. ”The heck are these… oh no.”

With panic and fear clouding Stephanie’s head, she forgot herself for a moment and a moment was long enough for Malia to slip away. ”MALIA!” she called out with genuine terror in her voice. How could she let that happen? Nothing was more important than her daughter! Stephanie ran from Khalil’s comforting light, grabbing the nearest redheaded girl she could find hopefully.

Not only was the little girl someone else, she went so far as to take a swing and his at Stephanie for impeding her. The bewildered mother stepped back and it was like the girl’s mind returned to her “normal,” walking along with her peers. ”No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” she kept repeating to herself, feeling like she was stuck in her worst nightmare. ”NO!”

Finding Malia in the crowd was a dream, but if she was like all the other children around her, there was still a way for Stephanie to get her little girl back. Storming back to the men, the Scot was laying down his ultimatum: he was going toward the children with or without them. ”Oh, I’m going. You’re going,” she demanded, pointing a finger at the cowboy. ”We’re all going, and so help me, God, Khalil, if you put out those arms, I’ll break them.” Her voice was loud and it was shaking. Her body was shaking. She was not going to wait for an answer; she was already using her dim shadow as a buffer to nudge through the throngs of children, who each momentarily hissed at her intrusion before resuming the status quo.

Barely even aware if the rest of the group was beside her, Stephanie stopped in her tracks as she realized what was happening in the sky above. It was a tear in the sky, but it was nothing like the Rip near the park. What Stephanie could see defied explanation. Undulating, dark forms and a kind of energy that hurt her head to look at. She could feel the shudder through her body, like something creeping across her skin.

Except she finally realized something was creeping up her skin. Stephanie tried to jump back, but she found her ankle caught, forcing her to fall to the ground. She lifted the skirt to her dress and saw a dark, writhing tentacle wrapping around her leg. Her screech was shrill and cut through the park, and the small shadow she had left worked to pry the creature(?) from her leg. She was so focused on the problem at hand (or more appropriately, afoot,) that she had not yet realized that the tentacle was not alone, as many writhing forms started emerging from the ground around them.

Like that, the kid was gone. All it took was a panicked moment. A frantic assessment of the situation. Malia had vanished, likely to join the throngs of fish-eyed kids marching towards the epicenter of this nightmare. Stephanie shrieked after her daughter in a heart-rending voice. It cut Khalil deep, striking chords the narcissist didn't know he had-- Stephanie ran for a moment, and though Khalil was quivering from tail to talon, he started to run after her. She was his responsibility. However terrifying these otherworldy happenings were, Poseidon was a far more tangible threat to his well-being. The likelihood of Khalil's head being served on a plate was starting to feel even more and more imminent.

But then, she returned (Thank God). Khalil backpedaled, trying to wipe the look of relief from his features. Screw figuring out what was at the center of this... he stuck to his previous plan of "get the f**k out of here" though in addition to that, he now added "find Malia" as a precursor. If they ran in the opposite direction of the kids, they might find an end to this... if there was one...

>> ”Oh, I’m going. You’re going, we’re all going, and so help me, God, Khalil, if you put out those arms, I’ll break them.”

He already had put his arms out. As soon as he'd seen the kids, he had.

"I-I can't walk around with them on all the time," Khalil began to protest, his wings fluttering irritably, "I've got a time l- AH! F**K!"

Something cool slithered around his ankle, interrupting the demon's retort. Khalil stamped at whatever-it-was, gritting his teeth. Gross, gross, gross-- oh, gross. Hell no. Khalil beat his wings, lingering a few yards off of the ground, a grimace across his features. In his moment of terror, he'd reignited his arms, flames engulfing his arms like gauntlets. The green flames licked at the sleeves of his t-shirt, singeing the fibers along the hems.

Khalil's gaze was drawn skyward by the sudden shift of light, and an inarticulate sound escaped him-- a wordless cry-- the f**k were those?! He couldn't dwell on it for too long, though, for a snarl interrupted his thoughts. A dog-like creature was emerging out of the dinn... the demon would say that it was a "dog", if it were not for the distinctly humanoid-yet-inhuman face it were, and the syringe-like teeth that lined its maw.

Nope. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Khalil landed (begrudgingly) because it took too much energy to hover, and he fanned his wings, walking backwards towards his group. In a way, he was shielding them.

"Let's go," he said tersely, "Let's go, let's go, let's go-"

There was nothing necessitating that they stay and fight the monster(s) and to be honest, Khalil had no intention of doing so. If this were a video game, he'd be doing a speedrun past all the little bastards on the side and straight for the big boss. If there was one.

Ignoring any outside voices he surged forward, fighting agaisnt the water which seemed to rise and surge to stop him, swelling up around his knees and up towards his thighs. Sounds which were muted before went all but silent compared to the smashing waves all around him. Each step was laboured, each movement slowed and energy consuming. And yet every step took him closer towards the unseen threat, closer to the rising water which set his heart pounding like a sledgehammer.

Then the scream ripped through the air, cutting through all the confused noise around him. Oh God, the mother was down, splashing in the water as something was crawling over her. There was no way Artair could get her in time to stop it, he was already so far ahead and the current was swirling around him. He'd only get dragged away! He couldn't just stand and watch but there was nothing he could do! The sea, it was just too strong, too big to fight.

Staring dumbly, his scars burning with the flood of memories, his construct flickered out as the sword slid from his shaking hands. Pain. so much pain flared through him, dragging him further and further from the moment. Words failed, mind clouded. Then he looked up.

Things, from the deepest nightmares were dragging themselves through a tear across the sky. Faces, eyes and more horrifying and unknowable shapes writhed behind the breach, all of them grinding agaisnt each other in an effort to come into their world.

No, no, no no no no no.....They were the cause, they were pulling the waters up to them. They were the ones trying to drown him in the black sea around him. But there had to be more. Someone was helping them, letting them into the world. He'd grown up with all the oldest legends, stories darker and more dangerous than the children's ones others learnt from the crib. It was hard, so damn hard to think with the fear pulsing through him but he managed. Teased out the reason amongst the madness. It was Samhain, the walls were thin. Thin enough for the right, or wrong person in this case, to invite all sorts of horrors in.

The children! They were the key. Their tormentor was gathering them, pulling them in for some sordid purpose. Spinning, he forced his way on. It stung hard to abandon people but if this wasn't stopped everyone could die.

Slogging forward he finally saw it. The raised metals bars and equipment of the playground surround with a sea of small figures. And there, right in the middle was the only adult around.

"You, this is all you." At that point he couldn't tell which language he was speaking in but it didn't matter. He finally had a target. "You're the crazy b---- calling them through."

The kid, Malia, going missing sent the woman into hysterics. Ranger couldn’t blame her, this was among the worst possible situations to lose a child. Hot hands protested the demand he not put out his flames. And the swordsman was walking along like he was slogging through water.

It seemed everyone was losing their minds.

Ranger looked up and decided he too must be losing his mind. From a split in the sky he could see...Somethings. It was alien in an almost universal sense. He tore his vision back away from it. Staring at it accomplished nothing. It was unsettling, but he needed to move on. Perhaps stopping whatever caused the fog would stop whatever was happening to the sky.

When Ranger looked back ahead he could see the fog was thicker, more alive than before. Tendrils were moving through it and had an almost physical touch to them as they went to wrap around Ranger. He batted them away and continued on.

Hot hands had clearly seen the same thing and was insistent on their moving.

”Agreed.” Ranger moved to continue on into the darkness feeling that he was the only one holding it together at the moment.

Following the direction the kids had gone Ranger approached a playground. Metal and wood built for kids to play on, surrounded by children. Except, the children stood like an army ready to resist an invader. On top of a metal structure Ranger saw a young woman. Likely the cause.

The swordsman called out to the woman.

Other than hot hands Ranger wasn’t sure they were in a state fit to deal with this. He also wasn’t sure how they would fare against an army of children. The last thing he wanted to do was get them hurt which would limit options. He would have to move quickly and decisively. The others could follow his lead or not.

Ranger moved. Fast. As he took a few steps to accelerate his power moved him beyond what a human could normally do. If the woman was the cause he would put neutralize her. He didn’t want to hurt the children, he would use his speed to juke around the children and approach the woman. Changing direction when when moving upwards of seventy miles an hour was difficult though.