The Frontrooms

>>2712
<Dad Weston (Time: 3:00 PM. Date: Saturday, March 10, 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 49/50
Hunger: 19/20 - Thirst: 19/20
-Strength: ?
-Agility: ?
-Endurance: ?
-Luck: ?+0 Police badge
Inventory
-Pockets 3/4
9mm Pistol (Safety on. 7/7)
Patrol car keys
Wallet

<Abigail Weston (Time: 3:00 PM. Date: Saturday, March 10, 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 34/70
Hunger: 11/20 - Thirst: 8/20
-Strength: 2
-Agility: 3
-Endurance: 2
-Luck: 1
Inventory
-Pockets 4/4
Mom W's chocolate chip cookie (1/2)
Mom W's chocolate chip cookie (2/2)
Mom W's chocolate chip cookie (2/2)
Mom W's chocolate chip cookie (2/2)
-Colored backpack 10/10
Fine brush
Thick brush
Pencil
Notebook
Blue crayon
Red crayon
Yellow crayon
Green crayon
Spare pencil
White sheets x10

At the precinct
Without a local partner for Thomas, one from out of town is assigned. It's a friendly agent from the Bureau of Investigation.

Hooper: The very same Edgar, rest in peace. But I can't tell you, some of my colleagues think his death was a trick and that when they let their guard down, he'll jump out to surprise them with their pants down.

Maggie's joy sinks into a well when Thomas obstructs the FBI's attempt to cheer her up. She lets out a long sigh, but Thomas pays no mind to her maidenly woes; he's too busy showing off his manhood and skill to Hooper, who embraces him. From her stealthy position, Maggie watches the unrequited exchange of warmth with envy. The agent pulls away and slaps the cop on the back.

Hooper: Am I going too fast? Funny, that's what my wife said on our first date. I'll go see the chief. Don't move a single millimeter, buddy.

...

Community school
"More security for everyone!" the principal promised long ago behind closed doors. Robin nods, accepting Abigail's most literal version of the matter, but deep down doubts the capability of the community school's boss... Robin thinks he lacks grit, or has too much ambition, impressions he wouldn't voice aloud because it would be disrespectful.

Robin: They'll catch him... A guy as big and conspicuous as him can't just disappear like that... Maybe he'll have the class draw portraits based on his description. That would be very illustrative and could help.
Abigail hears the professor's voice, but she struggles to make out the words, as she gets lost in his gaze, a fascination Robin doesn't notice. If only men were more receptive to such direct hints!

The arrival of the patrol is the signal the artist takes to vanish. Father and daughter reunite after the second survived a kidnapping, a meeting less emotional than one would expect after such a description. The agent doesn't miss the chance to approach the teenager with style.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kBn_lQBh9JA▾
Hooper: Greetings, Abigail. I'm Special Agent Hooper, your father's future friend. Look at my badge.

He shows her the badge; it's bigger than Thomas's. He puts it back away.

Hooper: I have a couple of questions for you before I let you go with your dad. Is this the man who took you for a ride?

Saying "took you for a ride" is taking the kidnapping lightly, but it's close enough to what the crazy doctor did. Hooper hands Abigail a photo of a guy so plain he'd get lost in a crowd of ten people. The answer is obviously No!

Hooper: I see.

He takes back the photo. Abigail doesn't waste time and eats a cookie.

Hooper: The man who grabbed you... Did he do anything else worth mentioning? I'd also like to know how you got free from his grip.

Regardless of whether you answer or go off on a tangent, you keep insisting you want to go home and that you're tired. Your head is starting to hurt and everything.

Hooper: I think we can postpone the questions...

The agent pulls a new object from his suit, this time a lighter, which he uses to light Thomas's cigarette in his mouth.

Hooper: You can go without me, buddy. I want to take a walk around town, stretch my legs, and find where to stay. Do you know a good motel around here?

...

South Suburb
The trip back to the suburbs is comfortable... Or uncomfortable... It depends on how father and daughter take it. When Thomas parks in front of the house and Abigail steps out of the patrol car, the first thing they see is Grandma Gina watering a newly planted bush near the door. The typical image of a quiet American grandma... But I don't know... There's something weird about those leaves... Maybe it's the color? Maybe it's that they don't match the magnolias?

Kek, I hope you don't notice I ran a bit short on time finishing this turn... But yeah, in my mind it was supposed to be longer and extend into the house. But well, this gives you more chance to react calmly.

>>2713
I'll be giving you shifts next weekend, anon.

The weather where I live has been calming down these past few days. If there are no more wild power outages, I'll return to the regular shift schedule for all Saturdays.

>>2717
One of my reasons for not wanting to die, disappears... I hope you're happy.

...

Kekeo, calm down, I've been working Saturdays for a good part of the time. Fix your toaster first, there's always another Saturday... Right...?

>>2715

I dug up so much that I was too tired to put the doll back in the desired place, so I ended up throwing it inside her truck before going to sleep, using the tablet as support for her head and putting some of her dirty clothes on top so it could function as a better pillow

"Yawn! Where did I leave that thing now?"

After waking up she does some morning stretches to feel the energies of tai chi, although since she doesn't have real knowledge of it her stretches end up looking more like an interpretative dance than anything else. The point is that once she finishes with these she remembers the doll from yesterday and after finding it in the middle of all her trash she turns it around and ties a shoelace behind its dress and takes it outside where she proceeds to tie it against the front bumper of her truck to use it as a sort of ornament that protects her from bad vibes, just like sailors used to do with their statues of women and sirens at the front of their ships

"Empty, empty, empty, empty"

She opened and closed the shelves of her truck where she kept snacks, hoping by magic they would fill up with food, but unfortunately she still hasn't mastered that spell, so instead she took out from among the pile of papers and bags that were in her truck a half-used can of spray paint and scribbled a sigil on the doors of her vehicle that would help with that spell, and once she finished she threw the can in the middle of the road

"Plan B"

B for aBE since it was time to make a visit to see if someone is interested in renting her parents' house for a party or some ritual, either would work as long as they give her money, so putting her hands to work she gets behind the wheel and starts driving towards her friend's house, pressing the can of before with the wheel of her truck and picking up some branches along the way as is customary given how little attentive she usually is to the road, it's practically a miracle she hasn't run over someone yet

"No, no, no, no! I've already told you the earth doesn't matter what's here!"

She ignores her friend's rambling to let out her own while approaching him, putting her right hand on the tip of the shotgun to make him lower it and her left hand on Abe's head to show him what he should be protecting

"The material plane doesn't matter as long as you're safe in the astral, aliens can't hurt you. Why do you think they always try to plant eggs in people's brains? They need to feed on our psyche to gain energy and grow, but if you deny them entry then they won't have anything left but to die of hunger. Speaking of hunger, do you have something to eat?"

She keeps a serious expression while talking about the aliens' objective, which completely changes to a more relaxed and friendly one when she remembers the rumble of her stomach, putting her right hand on Abe's shoulder while gently pushing him to take him to his kitchen and give him something to eat

>>2716
>Thomas
As a dedicated newspaper reader, he didn't miss the news of someone famous's death, like Mr. Hoover.

Abigail
Would they be able to catch the crazy scientist who injected her with piss? The artists argue.

Thomas
"What's wrong with mine?" -Thomas is proud to show off his badge whenever he can- "You liked it a lot when you were little."

>Abigail
"It's gotten boring."

>Thomas
"..." -his daughter has grown, pretending indifference, looking away- "pse..."

>Abigail
Thomas
Abigail
"Let me see."

The girl, much less surprised by the term used, looks at the photo, rubs her chin, eats her cookie.

"Hmm..."

She seems to think about it while chewing. She lifts her gaze, swallows and shakes her head.

"This man wouldn't be good for a portrait... and no, he's not the criminal either."

Thomas
"Abby, he asked you a question."

>Abigail
"But... I'm tired."

>Thomas
Abigail
"See, dad? You should be more groovy... like your friend."

>Thomas
"First: I am. Second: I'll talk to you in the car."

Thomas lights up a cigarette, he sighs.

"Thank you..."

Abigail
"Goodbye, sir."

...

In the car, father and daughter have a small chat.

>Thomas
"Why did you answer that way?"

>Abigail
"How do you mean?" -she said, stopping looking out the window to look at her dad-

>Thomas
"Abby, you know what I'm talking about. You can't avoid answering an officer."

>Abigail
"I'm in my rebellious phase." -looks out the window-

>Thomas
"I didn't raise you like that. Kids these days are a disaster... getting more disrespectful every day."

>Abigail
"I'm not disrespectful... I'm a free soul."

>Thomas
"It's the same, those words from dirty hippies don't soften what you do. We work for the government, do you know what the government is? It's... the country. Or something like that. We're patriots, aren't you a patriot?"

>Abigail
"I don't get along with government people." -imitates her teacher- "I'm for the hippies... they're groovy."

>Thomas
"¿How? You've gone crazy. Things like the Beatles wash your brain. That's why I listen to rolling stones... the hippies do nothing good, they just smoke weed."

>Abigail
"Maybe I want to smoke weed..."

>Thomas
"Abby, shut your dirty mouth. My daughter won't do that."

>Abigail
gasp -looks at her dad wide-eyed- "Did you just insult me?"

>Thomas
"If I don't get serious, you don't listen..."

Abby looks angrily at her father.

"Forget it... do you have epilepsy?"

>Abigail
With an expression of indignation, she looks out the window again.

"You should already know."

>Thomas
"Really?"

>Abigail
"No."

>Thomas
"Ah... because the simulatron is launching a machine. You could go later, if you want."

>Abigail
(Groovy! I should go.)

She's excited, but had to stay angry.

"Sure..."

...

The car slows down.

>Thomas
"Your stop."

>Abigail
"Goodbye." -opens the door, still angry-

>Thomas
"I love you..."

The girl closes the door without replying and heads home, the father sighs and shakes his head before starting the car again.

"What the hell is wrong with her?"

And she leaves...

>Abigail
"Good day, grandma." -greets her mother's mother- "nice plants you cultivate. If you look for me, I'll be in my room... I need to rest."

She approaches and stands on tiptoe to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Goodbye."

And so, the adorable girl went to her room to rest as she should.

>>2713
<Romeo "CJ" Santos (Time: 3:40 PM. Date: Saturday, March 10, 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 43/50
Hunger: 17/20 - Thirst: 17/20
-Strength: ???
-Agility: ???
-Endurance: ???
-Luck: ???
Inventory
-Pockets 1/4
37 dollars

Dinner 77
Micaela looks gorgeous, and you let her know. In response, she blushes and doesn't speak to you for the next half hour, preventing you from giving her 10 unbreakable tips to become a sigma male! That's what comes of dealing with such a shy girl. Although the blush soon fades when she realizes you're just being kind, after all, what man would find a burned girl attractive?

At Mama's restaurant, she gives you a nervous smile when you mistake her for some kind of stepmother.

Mama: Cielito, are you okay today? Sit down, take a glass of water.

Your comments were especially insensitive, because she has no "Mr. Daddy" waiting for her at home, after all, she's been a widow for 10 years. You endure the embarrassment and head to the chosen table.

While waiting for the shrimp order to arrive, Micaela's gaze drifts to the black-and-white TV located above a display case behind the bar. The screen is broadcasting an interview show about the special race, a competition especially heated since the Soviet Union put the first man on the moon in '69, and shortly after, the first woman.

NASA Representative (TV): What if space becomes a new battlefield? No, never, never, if we keep our sanity.

Interviewer (TV): What do you say about rumors that the Pentagon wants to bring weapons to Jamestown.

NASA Rep. (TV): The Pentagon meddles in many things, but the Jamestown lunar base is for and about scientific matters. The president knows, the world knows. The moon belongs to no one, it belongs to all humanity. War on the last frontier? For God's sake, that's impossible.

Interviewer (TV): We'll continue after this commercial break.

The shrimp tray arrives. Micaela nods, agreeing to share it between the two until they're full. You pay Mama 3 dollars for everything.

…

Monkey Island
The afternoon is peaceful, until a commotion in front of the store makes you drop the newspaper just as you were about to reach the showbiz section. You go to check, and find Micaela helping a ragged-looking man who appears injured. You have many questions, but first comes the labor. You help carry him up to the bedroom, where you lay him on the bed and check him over, finding no bleeding or fractures. The man is clutching a leather briefcase in his hand, but despite his fainting, he doesn't let go even if you pull with all your strength; it's as if his cadaverous fingers were hooks.
You go back down and find Micaela pacing from left to right, biting the nail on her left thumb. When she sees you arrive, she quickly approaches you.

Micaela: How is he?

She asks, revealing her urgency. You answer that the man is stable, but more importantly, you want to know who he is.

Micaela: I... I know him.

The girl lowers her gaze, and for a moment it's as if her strength fails her legs, because she collapses onto a stool.

Micaela: His name is Albert Philip Hyde... He is... Doctor...

You already knew that from the way she called him. Micaela still struggles to lift her head, keeping her hands anchored on her knees.

Micaela: Eight years ago when our house burned down, I fell into a coma from my burns... My family contacted numerous specialists, but none could say when I would wake up, or if my body could hold out much longer...

Her shoulders tremble. It's obvious that everything related to that time is painful.

Micaela: Doctor Hyde was the one who saved my life.

Slowly she raises her face and glances toward the stairs.

Micaela: He used a treatment... Very unorthodox... But it worked, and my father was very grateful to him, so much so that he helped fund his research, and accompanied him on several trips to England. After...

She pauses for a long time, as if the next part of the story is too delicate to say. She opts to leave a gap and faces you.

Micaela: I haven't seen Doctor Hyde in six years. He's... Very changed... It's as if he aged two or three decades in this short period. Around that time my father also disappeared... I thought he had been swallowed by the earth like so many others... But when I saw the doctor again I thought... I thought he might know where he is, or have a clue about it... Now I have hope again...

Now you can roughly understand the girl's emotional shock, though you feel you're missing pieces. But if you press Micaela for more information, you might scare her off.

Micaela: I don't know if I can focus on work knowing that maybe the only person who knows my father's whereabouts is unconscious upstairs... You... What would you do in my situation?

All alone, she sees no other way but to ask for help and guidance from the only adult she has nearby.

>>2721
>>2719
<David Stanford (Time: 6:50 AM. Date: Saturday, March 10, 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 40/50
Hunger: 20/20 - Thirst: 20/20
-Strength: 3
-Agility: 3
-Endurance: 3
-Luck: 1 + 0 Melanicus
Inventory
-Secret Pockets 6/6
Plastic bag (x5 moon mushrooms)
Notebook
Pencil
Cat bone
Cursed clay tablet
Truck keys
-Spells
Eye of Resonance (Reads the soul imprint of beings like you. -2 energy per minute)

Secret Base
Arriving at the town center, and after leaving the doll tied to the bumper, you drag yourself toward Abe's hideout. But you can't cross the tall grass field without being spotted and aimed at with a gun. You counter Abe's ravings with your own series of random thoughts, causing him to blink repeatedly as a faint glimmer of understanding returns to his eyes beyond the mask.

Abe: D? D-Do you...?

He lowers the rifle; there's no need for you to hold the point anymore.

Abe: J-Jesus, D! O-One more second and I'd blow your head off! W-What are you doing here? D-Did you come back with those s-stupid astral plane theories? Buddy, g-give up on the fairy tales. W-We're a... A a... A a... A f-fucking nation of science and technology, not fantasies!

Whenever Abe got too stuck, his trick to force the words out was to shout a swear. It always worked, a habit that got him several citations from the school with his parents. Surprisingly, Abe graduated high school with honors, but his unbalanced mind ruined any chance of going to college or joining the Air Force.

Abe: I-If you keep p-playing the magic wizard, y-you'll be easy p-prey when the i-invasion h-happens.

Ironically, Abe didn't believe your stories about what lurks beyond your eyes. He had his own personal frontier, and it wasn't in hell, but up there, outside the troposphere. Crawling through the entrance to the secret base, the warrior of Earth's own obsessions testified in posters, blueprints, and sheets of paper taped with American tape inside the wide igloo made of earth, twigs, and aluminum—lots of aluminum (According to Abe, aluminum interfered with national, international, and extraterrestrial mind control). Two-dimensional astronauts waved at you with raised hands; a diagram of the solar system with a red pen circle near the sun and the note (Planet X here?); also a blueprint of NASA's Saturn-V rockets that meant nothing to you but shouldn't be in Abe's possession; and many newspaper clippings with information of interest to him, including an article about Lennon and Yoko since Abe suspected the Asian woman was actually a reptilian spy.
Abe: Get co-co-co… Comfortable, damn it!

He set the rifle near his portable transmitter, a glorified radio to which Abe had installed a wire antenna to extend its signal. Besides the transmitter, the secret base had a diesel lamp to light the nook; a battery-powered fan, currently off; a thick notebook from which Abe took the pen; a chest; several layers of sheets that served as both floor and bed; and two coolers, one without ice and one with. That was all that could fit in the cramped space, but Abe didn't need more to stay there for days. After all, after his father disinherited him, Abe started living there. Of course, with you there, there was little room to maneuver, and he had to push you or, in some cases, rub against you to reach his things.

Abe: H-Here.

He opened both coolers, took a water bottle from the one with ice and threw it at you, and from the one without ice, he took a silver paper bag and threw that at you too. The bottle was like any other, but the bag was one of those famous "End of the World Lunches," which Abe stole from bunkers built during the nuclear missile scare. After each theft, he felt so guilty that he'd take the owner's lawnmower and mow their lawn as a form of payment. In most cases, the homeowners noticed the cut grass, but never that something was missing from those forgotten shelters.

"Chop Suey," the vacuum-sealed silver paper read in the most impersonal font they could find, along with other lines of military jargon you didn't bother reading because you were hungry. What if that food had the capacity to survive kingdoms and empires? Your stomach's urgency needed resolving now. You pulled the bag in opposite directions, and the top opened. Immediately, grayish dust inside swelled into different colored pebbles, surely due to moisture traces in the air. Mimicking the first time Abe invited you to eat at his base, you remembered his instructions, poured water into the bag, closed it again, waited a while, and when you opened it again… Chop Suey! Cold as the Cocytus, but still tasty.

You drank and ate until you were full, while Abe turned his back to hunch over and fiddle with his radio. He was so focused on the line that if you quietly left now, he wouldn't even notice until many hours later.

>>2720
<Dad Weston (Time: 5:00 PM. Date: Saturday, March 10, 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 47/50
Hunger: 17/20 - Thirst: 17/20
-Strength: ?
-Agility: ?
-Resilience: ?
-Luck: ?+0 Police Badge
Inventory
-Pockets 3/4
9mm Pistol (Safety on. 7/7)
Patrol car keys
Wallet

<Abigail Weston (Time: 5:00 PM. Date: Saturday, March 10, 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 40/70
Hunger: 10/20 - Thirst: 6/20
-Strength: 2
-Agility: 3
-Resilience: 2
-Luck: 1
Inventory
-Pockets 4/4
Mom W's chocolate chip cookie (2/2)
Mom W's chocolate chip cookie (2/2)
Mom W's chocolate chip cookie (2/2)
-Colored backpack 10/10
Fine brush
Thick brush
Pencil
Notebook
Blue crayon
Red crayon
Yellow crayon
Green crayon
Spare pencil
10 white sheets
-Effects
Insanity 1/100

South Suburb
The police secretary rests her elbow on the table and her cheek in her palm, watching good old Hooper walk toward the chief's office.

Maggie: He's from the FBI... His salary buys him the freedom to be eccentric.

That might have made Thomas think, as he sat in the patrol car with his daughter, "Does my salary allow me to be eccentric?" The answer is no; he was wrapped in a hundred rules. Maybe that intense order appealed to him, but apparently, that side of him would never fit with Abigail. While the cop drove back home, the agent marched to the motel previously indicated—a modest place—and rented a room from the clerk. Hooper paid a month in advance, though he didn't actually know how long he'd stay in Stepford. What he did know, or at least saw sketched in the foam of the coffee cup he drank that morning, was that big trouble was coming soon. It was a shame that coffee foam couldn't be used as evidence in Quantico.

Thomas drops the girl off at home and leaves... Where? He didn't specify. Abigail, on her side, greeted her grandmother, who warned her not to try the brownies fresh from the oven sitting on the kitchen windowsill, since they were "special," meant for her Saturday night poker game with the other grandmas. But the warning was unnecessary; Abigail was too tired to think about stuffing her face with chocolate. The adorable little girl reached her room, threw herself onto the bed, and closed her eyes... Soon Morpheus took her away.
She dreamed nothing. Just black, darkness. It was then that she realized the darkness was the dream. Abigail's brown eyes soon adjusted to the shadows and she perceived the lines of hallways, doorways, and stairs, along with a wind that blew and chilled her bones. Everything felt very real, so real that for a moment she thought she had been kidnapped from her home and thrown into an old bunker. But it couldn't be real; how could such a place exist? God would never allow it.

Without warning, the lines on the walls twisted, contracting and expanding, pulsating. The breeze followed that peculiar rhythm, and the young girl understood it wasn't a breeze, but a breath. She was dreaming inside the throat of old steel, and beyond the metal walls she heard her mother calling her, and her father, and her grandparents, even Robin was there; they sounded sad, trapped on the other side of an inaccessible wall. But a voice, rising like thunder, silenced them all.

WHO ARE YOU?!

The gale shook Abigail and made her fall on her ass onto the cold floor.

I DON'T WANT ANYONE HERE! GET OUT!

And the girl-woman fell. She passed through the floor and slid down a black abyss like the mouth of a wolf, so deep that she felt as if she were plummeting for days on end. Finally, she landed without feeling pain on something soft and wet... Opening her eyes, the ceiling lights blinded her, until slowly her eyes adjusted their sensitivity and she could witness the yellowish paths. An inevitable thought crossed the Weston's mind: This makes no sense!

And another voice, as ambiguous as the darkness, but much softer, and paradoxically much rougher, answered her:

And you...? What sense do you have...?

Because the sense you find in me is the one that exists in you.

As long as you are here, this place will never be entirely empty.

Abigail opened her eyes and woke up. Above her, the ceiling of every day looked back. Only two hours had passed since she fell into bed, and she felt a little better. The needle mark on her arm was already just a shadow, and by the end of the day it would have disappeared completely. Although the consequences of the doctor's substance would take a while to show... They could be the salvation of the little artist... Or her damnation.

>>2721
The type of flashy hair never really interested him in space. He doesn't doubt that there might have been a moment as a kid when it could have attracted him, but his life and his fate were made on the earth, maybe even several meters below this... To let imagination fly and not guide oneself by facts in having one's life is a sin, and that's why he doesn't pay much attention to what the television says before eating.

...

They finish and leave the house of delights of mom to return to their own sanctuary of vice and dizziness.
After descending the stairs and checking that the type won't let go of whatever is inside that suitcase, he checks how Micaela is.

—I... I see but don't tell me your life, crack...

Listen to the story and if he must think sincerely about everything he does, then it's a waste of time and a risk to have her here, both of them in fact...

—To start with, don't do that kind of scandal again... Someone might hear you, customer or not.

He looks again at the sign of "help wanted" that he hung on the wall outside the entrance... It was nice, eye-catching...

—I would open just as easily. Listen, the world isn't especially charitable or just... One must find one's way to continue, mine is this place, and I think from now on yours is too.

He doesn't have enough consideration to give her the day off nor does he start, it doesn't matter if what's upstairs is a vagrant or the president, he's not playing games.

—But maybe that guy no longer has much left to continue where he's going... Still, let me call someone, a nurse I met during my time of... adolescence.

Someone has to cure the problem citizens, prevent them from dying and from continuing to make money in an unfair way. He met several people from whom he still has direct contact, but whom he hasn't seen in a while precisely because he wanted to get away from a life like that. And he still has that mindset, but now there's an exception, at least he thought a bartender could have contacts like those more than a noble owner of a café... So he sighs and takes the phone, lets it ring for a while.

—It's me... Can you come quickly? There's been a "serious" problem, we could say, How...? Ah, no, no, I'm fine, but I think calling an ambulance would be, you know, "inconvenient."

Yes. My address is still the same, don't tell anyone... Yes, goodbye.

He hangs up and checks the time, there's still time left before they open, so he waits for her to hurry and arrive so that no one sees them interacting.

—Relax. She's the best. Although somewhat worrying, she knows what she's doing.

He comments and then takes the newspaper again to return to the days when he read all the lies and hypotheses of the media about him and the band... Those afternoons of laughter were really wonderful.

>>2724
Saved turn. Until the next end.

>>2722

"Recently I found out about a certain phrase that says that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic, so you shouldn't stop doing those things just because you don't understand them"

Unlike his partner David, he didn't discard anything that could give him a new perspective on the world, whether aliens, magic or mole men. He was willing to believe any of those things in order to get to the bottom of the matter and thus find what he's been searching for. Of course, his knowledge about aliens couldn't be compared to Abe's, but there were one or two things he did know, and one of those was...

"Have you heard of the ancient aliens? you know that thing that says the pyramids and other things were made by people from space. If that were true, then my magic and your science wouldn't be so far apart from each other. Who knows, maybe in reality the reptilians are the demons that so many grimoires talk about. Maybe what I'm reading is actually what can really protect you from the invasion by using the same methods that the vikings used against the annunakis. If that were the case, don't you think it would be worth trying?"

Once inside the base, he continued with his mental delirium while looking at each plan and paper scattered on the floor with great detail, putting on an aluminum hat on top of his head and smiling at his friend while holding one of the models, waiting for his response, and then diverting his curious gaze towards Abe's radio

"Have you received any signal worth something? because I for sure have achieved a more than notable advancement with my research"

He put the model back in place and sat down in his seat, then put his curled fingers in the shape of binoculars over his eyes to give his friend a more spiritual look. What new secrets could he discover once he knows his true colors? curiosity was so strong that he couldn't help but show all his emotion on his face

"Aah nothing like the food of the future brought from the past for the man of the now, this temporary shock really heals one's soul, but leaving that aside, do you know someone who is interested in throwing a party but doesn't have a place?"

He happily hit his stomach once he finished eating and immediately changed the topic quickly to put on a serious face, which he hoped would help him solve his money problems. There's always some homeless person or scared kid from their parents who is willing to rent out their home temporarily for this or that. Or at least he hoped that would be the case, since he considered that opportunity perfect for his other "research"

Did you put the notebook and pencil between my items because of what I said about the magic notebook? because that's something I do before going to sleep more than carrying it around always

>>2723
Papi Weston went to the station, but he already did his job so we'll leave him alone
>Thomas
Abigail
The girl, already home, greets her ancestral grandmother, who apparently made some crazy, crazy brownies, something that although not revealed, the girl promises not even to look at.

"Don't worry, my grandma. I'm exhausted... I just want to lie down for a bit..."

Abby does a curtsy, grabbing her little skirt with her fingers.

"Grandma..."

And so, she stands straight again and goes to bed, throwing herself onto it in a jump before starting to snore like a haunted mansion door.

ZzZzZz

Soon, everything was darkness... emptiness and blackness. It's to be expected, not all dreams are an artistic revelation like she'd like... but then, Abby realized. She had consciousness in the void. She felt, and if she couldn't see beyond her nose, she knew that in this darkness, her little eyes were open.

"Is this a dream...?" -she asks curiously-

Abby begins to make sense of things in the gloom, strange hallways that scared her and a cold coming from ice. Abby hugs herself, frozen.

"Brr... is this where Santa keeps the toys...? Or something more macabre...?" -she rubs her arms, trying to warm herself- "That my mind can create this is truly groovy. A place like that would convey terror well..."

The walls begin to deform like in a Dali painting, Abby is surprised. Finally, she perceives the blizzard for what it really is, the girl gets confused... breath...?

"Am I... inside something?"

This was the strangest thing... but then, the voices of her loved ones stole her attention: her mother.

"Mother? Is dinner ready?"

Her father. Abby averts her gaze with her eyes closed, indignant.

"Tell dad I don't want to talk to him."

Her grandparents...

"Hm..." -she opens one eye- "Is it that important...?"

Even Robin!

"I'M COMING MY LOVE!"

Abby ran toward the voices in the darkness... but a deafening scream made her stop in a jump.

<WHO ARE YOU?!

"WAAH!"

Even she, the very ignorant one, got scared by the scream before falling through the wind that accompanied it, hurting her little butt.

"Auch..."

The girl was going to respond, but whatever spoke to her, spoke again, throwing her through the floor of what seemed like a floor for a long fall.

"AAAAHHHH"

It was a big, big fall...

"AAHH!"

Abby fell...

"Aahh..."

And fell...

yawn -yawn-

And fell... until finally, her feet touched soft but unpleasant ground, because it was wet.

"Finally! Ground! Holy God, how long has this dream lasted...?" -Abby opens her eyes, smiling-
"eh?"

She was in a yellow place. That instantly wiped the smile off Weston's face.

"What a bad taste..."

She didn't like the color, the pattern on the wall, the humidity, the noise of the lights, nothing.

"Besides, how did I get here? This makes no sense. It's surrealism in its purest form!"

<And you...? What sense do you have...?

"Uh? Who said that?"

<Because the sense you find in me is the one that exists in you.

"In you?"

<As long as you're here, this place will never be completely empty.

"It's a riddle... will I know the answer? What excitement. This is the kind of dream I needed!"

Abby's eyes suddenly widen; the artist has a grin from ear to ear.

"Oh heavens! I'm so excited!"

She jumps from the bed to the floor and runs to the kitchen. She holds a glass under the tap, hopping around, noticeably excited.

"Come on, come on, fill up!"

The glass fills up, and Abigail drinks it to the bottom. Whenever you wake up, you must drink a glass of water, her mother always says.

After that, Abby runs back to her room, puts up a "Do Not Disturb" sign, locks the door, grabs her backpack, opens it, takes out her brushes, searches her room, pulls out her painter's palette, puts on a beret, and sits on a small stool in front of that DISGUSTING white canvas.

"This is your end!"

So many emotions in one day... They had turned Abby into a painter again!

tiktoktiktok

An hour staring at the white canvas...

tiktoktiktok

Four hours painting...

nomnomnom

She didn't eat anything but cookies (all of them). She ignored her parents and grandparents; they had to understand her, this moment was unique. Inspiration... didn't just come like that; it was a storm after a drought.

slash slash

She gives a few final brushstrokes. Six hours with her ass glued to the stool moving the brush... and in the end, she succeeds. An oil painting... of Robin.

At first, she thought about doing something about the dream... but Robin... had her crazy since the kiss.

"No..."

She lowered her gaze sadly.

"IT'S TERRIBLE! I DIDN'T CAPTURE HIS BEAUTY!"

She stands up.

"RRRAAAGH!"

Abby turns into a baby Godzilla. She throws her palette and brushes into the air and kicks her stool, which falls over. She turns to the canvas and grabs it with an angry face.

"You are-!"

She stops when she sees her teacher's face and sighs, calming down...

"I can't break this. It's his face..."

Abby brings her face close to the canvas.

"His... face..."

smooch

She kisses the lips of the painting, smearing paint on her own lips.

"... I need to take a bath."

Abby opened the door and headed to the bathroom to get into the tub. She needed to relax with a good hot bath.

>>2724
<Romeo "CJ" Santos (Time: 4:01 PM. Date: Saturday, March 10, 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 42/50
Hunger: 16/20 - Thirst: 16/20
-Strength: ???
-Agility: ???
-Endurance: ???
-Luck: ???
Inventory
-Pockets 1/4
37 dollars

Monkey Island
Micaela lowers her head when you scold her for the commotion she caused; little by little, her upper teeth peek out as she bites her lip, looking just like any scolded girl. For someone so given to silence as she is, there's no doubt the appearance must have been a hard emotional blow to shake her like that. Though what worries you are the hounds that might be behind that story, hounds that aren't necessarily pink-sheets journalists.

Many questions in that matter that went from brown to dark. Likewise, you decided to open the place; you couldn't let a Saturday pass, those days were a shot to the ground when it came to profits. Micaela gets up from the stool.

Micaela: I'll go... I'll go to the restroom...

She needs a moment alone to think things through and wipe the sweat from her face, the sweat that soaked her expression from the shock of finding a ghost from the past. She turns around, but her feet tangle, and she swerves sharply in your direction when you speak of calling someone. She frowns, distrustful.

Micaela: The police?

She was about to say no, but you clarify it's a nurse you know, someone you surely believe you can trust. She's not your wife; otherwise, the conversation with Mama would have made no sense. Micaela ventured to guess...

Micaela: Her lover?

Lover, a more secret concept, more fitting for a lonely man running a bar, or so she thinks, until her musings are drawn back again by the powerful magnetism generated by the mystery of the man lying on the floor upstairs. Micaela turns her face to the stairs; the only eye she leaves uncovered, her bangs, is glassy, saying much and at the same time nothing. She sighs and retreats to the ladies' room, where she spends a good while, losing a quarter of an hour there...
You picked up the phone, turned the dial, and got in touch with your old friend, choosing your words with great care. She agreed to come from the Stepford point where she works, possibly from her house, because setting up a clandestine clinic isn't something you do by putting up a giant neon sign in the middle of town. Now, a few questions about your second character, your nostalgic partner: do you like her name...? Exactly what was it? You try to remember if she had a car, and if so, she's rushing, probably arriving in 20 or 30 minutes. What job does she have to cover her true work? You know better than anyone how inquisitive the IRS is; you need an umbrella, and you have to avoid luxuries, so she can't live in a mansion. And more importantly, what's her story? She must have done something for you to trust her so much. Oh, and if she works at the Stepford hospital, she's probably already aware of the institution's suspicious habits, including its rule banning access to S2 (Basement 2) under penalty of immediate firing and subsequent lawsuits.

It's four in the afternoon now; your friend should be arriving soon. Meanwhile, you distract yourself by reading a fascinating article about groundhog mating, "The Voice of Stepford" (Newspaper) never disappoints. Micaela also applies her own task of displacement; this time it's not reading, but cleaning and re-cleaning the glasses in which you serve your juices of oblivion.

Micaela: Excuse me, what time did you say you'd open...?

She puts down the glasses to look at the clock on the wall and ask the question. She seems worried about the time, perhaps because every passing minute means getting closer to Hyde waking up, although beyond her hopes, there's the possibility that Hyde doesn't know his father's fate and is just a disgraced medical professional. Even in the heart of the American Dream, one can fail. There are all the pariahs, the beggars, the street people, the forgotten, the prostitutes of the interstate... Speaking of them, tomorrow's edition of The Voice of Stepford will reveal the discovery of a corpse north of town. A homicide, a new victim of the Route 32 Killer, it's presumed. But none of that has anything to do with you, right? Although you can't help but feel a twinge of discomfort in your stomach. The arrival of Micaela... The appearance of Hyde... You, meeting up with a partner from your past after many years... It's as if a very large, very heavy, and loud wheel, loud as a thousand demons, is moving and picking up speed. In short, you can only hope not to end up flattened by the course of events.

>>2728
Looks like things are finally looking up, at least for now she won't have to deal with the girl having a severe autism attack, or at least he hopes not, and that they can actually figure out what happened with the Schrodinger man, who seems to be leaving us and yet not. It's quite impressive.

—HA! Listen to yourself... "The police"... No, no... Blue monkeys and red monkeys don't mix, take my word for it.]

With those words, which Micaela probably wouldn't understand since she's from a different era, he means he doesn't get along with the police. Not to the point of getting arrested or stopped for a pat-down every two minutes, but in the sense that if times change, so do the bosses. In short... New government, new department, new codes, new people to bribe, and he doesn't have as much money anymore, so it's better to stay away from where he's not wanted.

After his loud but sarcastic laugh that stopped as soon as it started, he asks if she's his lover.

—Opposites attract, baby, but 1 - 1 doesn't equal 2 no matter how hard you try. No, no, there were deals, there were favors, there was friendship or something like that, there was... Something weird... And there was distance. That's it, I haven't seen her in years, I wonder how she looks now...

It would never occur to him that, while no one could understand him better than someone who shared his past, that whole world is something he wants to keep firmly closed... He's not proud of anything he did back then, but he did enjoy it, of course. If he had known when to stop, maybe he could have gotten away with it and saved everyone... Oh, but no one ever knows when to stop.

If he were looking for someone for himself, it would probably be someone he could lie to forever, saying he was a poor mechanic for most of his life until he opened his bar... That's real life.

...

"Is the washroom called that because you touch yourself inside?" I mean, think about it... Why do women call it that? Is "bathroom" a cursed and dirty word? I mean, there's nothing very beautiful coming out of your body that requires you to go to the bathroom and touch yourself. But if we're talking about jerking off, we're entering the realm of personal tastes. Is Micaela
Okey... Better answer the nurse's questions... Romeo, for the sake of the script's convenience, starts remembering those times even though he already said he wants them buried deep, what a sentimental damn animal we got. Let's see...

No... Lucifér, with an accent on the "e". Lucía Fernanda McGilligan... Yes, she has a car... She's a nurse at a state hospital and at night she's Batman... She saw my guys get massacred and saved their lives, mine too, but what happened to them was more moving... And no idea, I mean, shady business people never tell anything about their lives unless they're drunk, but since I was drunk at those times too, I don't remember... She knows, and if she knows where not to step, she doesn't step, if she were a man she'd have a huge advantage in life now that I think about it...

Anyway... Now both were waiting for someone of the opposite gender respectively.

—It's Saturday. At 6 PM we open, hear that? It's the wage earners leaving their torture called work after not cursing everything to hell by a miracle or screaming at their boss that his wife is cheating on him with her own lover's husband.

https://youtu.be/-apU2sviHCM▾
"What?" Micaela probably wondered. Not understanding the song playing on the jukebox doesn't help either... Because yes, Romero is bilingual, what else would you expect with that surname.

Well, since the "no" is feeling a twinge of discomfort in your belly as you say, let things pass as they are and just relax until it's 6 and you can see what happens... Saturday nights are very capricious. The Route 32 killer who reads makes you wonder if that guy played a lot of Pokémon as a kid... Anyway... You know what kind of character he is when you let him get lost in his thoughts.

...

>second PJ

Yeah, uh... I think I'd better stick with just one... Sorry. Another possible DW would destroy my soul and not in the good way

>>2726
>67159 The thing about monuments is common knowledge, so David should know that).

Abe: T-There's no c-confirmation of anything yet. S-Stop stuttering! Y-You're c-confusing me! I-I pursue facts, not f-fantasies. T-Time wasted on t-tales is time l-lost in the J-Jewish-Masonic-reptilian-Illuminati s-struggle.

He says the final term without stumbling even once; you know he repeats it often, sometimes changing the order of the words.

Abe: N-Nothing's left... Y-Year 2000! T-Then it'll h-h-happen... T-The final battle, damn it!

The year 2000, the end of the millennium, the start of a new era. You suppose many energies will influence the world that day. With your crazy life, it's hard to know if you'll even be alive to see it. But why worry about something that'll happen in many decades? You're in the now, and while twisting your hands, you decided to NOW gossip about Abe's aura.

A soft green, a soft blue, merging around the Earth warrior as he diligently works the radio, like a peaceful lake, until for a second, just an instant, deep reds and purples disrupt the peace like high peaks in a gentle symphony. Then softness returns, holding for several seconds, until murky tints manifest with violence and throw everything off balance before receding.

In that aurora you see the portrait of his life. A smart young man, full of potential, but tormented by sudden stabs of madness that threw him off balance and made him what he is: a pariah. A pariah who at least deserves your smile, even if he barely notices it.

Abe: S-Signals...? N-No... Y-Yes...! I-I mean, n-no... I don't know. R-Rare sounds in the forest... R-Rare sounds in the hospital... T-The u-unusual.

Abe likes going to the forest to camp in search of Bigfoot, but he hasn't even found Littlefoot yet. He'd also like to explore the hospital, but there's a lot of security, some would say too much. It's a bit strange, but it could simply be that they take health very seriously as a business. Doesn't change the fact that Stepford's hospital is one of the best in the county.

Maybe Abe has no new good news, but you do, and you let him know.

Abe: Ah-ha.

He says no more, keeps fiddling with the radio. He leaves you to continue if you want to explain what happened to you.
Abe: A-A party...? N-not yet... B-but there will be... There's always... D-did you ask at s-school?

Stepford Middle and High School, if there's a place with people wanting to throw a party, it's there. Hormonal youths, the perfect breeding ground for disaster, potential customers. But you'd have to watch out for the vigilantes; if they see Abe, or if they see you, they'll kick you out, labeling you as a runaway.

Close your eyes, take a deep breath, relax. Suddenly you notice a shift in the tension of the air, a dissonance in paradise. You open your eyes; Abe is crouching at the entrance of the shelter, his suspicious eyes scanning the outside. Above the silence, you hear the sound of tall grass blades rustling... Intruders? Did the demons find you? Or will it be Abe's men in black? Whatever the case, your friend wants to be prepared, grabs the rifle, and bolts outside like a madman.

Abe: AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

The small figure in the grass trembles but doesn't flee, and ends up pointing a finger at Abe while screaming back. Abe shakes the rifle high above his head like a wand, trying to shoo her away as he does with all the younglings who dare enter his territory, but this time it doesn't work.

??? (Girl): AAAAAAHHHH!

Abe: AAAAAAAHH!

??? (Girl): AAAAHHHH!

Abe: AAAHH!

??? (Girl): Aaaah!

Abe: Aaah...

??? (Girl): ...

Abe: ...

The screams grow weaker and weaker until they vanish. When you peek out, you see Abe and the girl facing off with challenging attitudes. Even in enemy territory, the little one speaks first, and there's no fear on her lips.

??? (Girl): I'm Scout Girl Julia, defender of the weak, discoverer of the unknown! I came looking for adventure, and it seems I found it... Back off, you red-nosed rascal, I have a whistle and I'm not afraid to use it! Give me all your gold or face the consequences!

As proof, the little colonialist holds the whistle hanging from her neck with one hand. She also carries something that grabs your attention powerfully; hanging from her belt is a doll that looks incredibly like Annabel Lee. In fact, you're 100% sure it's Annabel Lee! The girl must have saved it from your bumper.

...

<notebook
Exactly, as you indicated they were your main items, I put them in your pockets. You can always take them off at home.

>>2727
This side of Abby being so fangirlish is something I like and am worried about at the same time. She's on the fine line between adorable and yandere.

Turn saved.

>>2729
Turn saved.

>71758 I mean using the nurse in key moments, and then leaving her on hiatus when you no longer need her. Since after all Romeo is your MC, just as Abigail is the MC for the anon.

>>2730

"Hmm, hmm, hmm si, si, you're doing well to doubt but if you're not willing to question even what you believe and to check the most crazy sources you'll never reach the truth"

He closes his eyes and nods his head repeatedly while listening pleased to his partner's answer, maintaining a smile full of understanding at his words which he wipes out as soon as he finishes speaking to change his face into one of disapproval

"What is a fact now doesn't have to be one in the future nor in the past, the flatness of the earth used to be a fact just as the licking the skull of an ancient relative to eliminate the demons causing headaches to one, but now the planet has extended to a third dimension and the demons have hidden, if everything will change by the year 2000 then the earth could possibly get a fourth dimension and you'd have to pray to the horned serpent for a bit of health or worse yet to... the iris of Neptune..."

He stretches out that last part too long and stops suddenly due to a sudden chill which runs through his body just for thinking about it, Jupiter would still be bearable but even in the myths Neptune/Poseidon was always the biggest idiot of his brothers so having to serve him and his army of vampire tritons is something he doesn't like

"I spend my time in the forest, there's nothing in the forest except for mushrooms, do you want one? you should better concentrate in the hospital the colors of this combine more with you"

He raises an eyebrow upon hearing about his friend's interest in the forest and quickly comes up with an excuse in an attempt to get him as far away as possible from the area he uses for his investigations, hastily pulling out a couple of mushrooms from his pocket then changing the subject

"It's not a bad idea if there's someone who wants to be freed then the best will be to look in the birdcage"

He closes his eyes while thinking about how he could approach to get someone's attention in that place but his short period of attention prevents him from being able to concentrate on a single task for too long, forcing himself to keep his eyes closed while clenching his fists in front of his eyes creating multiple lines behind his eyelids due to the force he applies and the little light that enters ending up more interested in that psychedelic spectacle of patterns which doesn't need any substance to be seen

"Hmmm ¿¡What!? ¿Neptune is making his horn sound to have the psychic vampires attack?"

It's not until he hears screams that he manages to get out of his self-induced trance, standing up quickly and nervously upon seeing that there's no one else but him in the place and stepping outside to see what was happening, finding Abe along with a girl, which makes him relax his expression quickly while letting out a sigh of relief

"Ah it's just that ¿hmm?"

After seeing that it wasn't anything serious David proceeded to ignore the scene ready to go back inside and continue with his things until he saw that the girl was holding something that belonged to him, at which point he lowered his gaze curiously by that fact and proceeded to approach her, bending his knees to be at her height and with a friendly face he extended his hand to ask her to return his wristwatch

"Are you saying you explore the unknown? well then I also do that task and this watch is helping me with that so I would appreciate if you could return it to me, by the way aren't you interested in renting a house for a few days?"

>>2732
Saved turn. Until the next end.

>>2727
<Abigail Weston (Time: 12:10 AM. Date: Sunday, March 11, 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 70/70
Hunger: 19/20 - Thirst: 19/20
-Strength: 2
-Agility: 3
-Stamina: 2
-Luck: 1
Inventory
-Pockets 0/4
-Colored backpack 10/10 (Left somewhere)
Fine brush
Thick brush
Pencil
Notebook
Blue crayon
Red crayon
Yellow crayon
Green crayon
Spare pencil
White sheets x10
-Effects
Insanity 1/100

South Suburb
The springs of creativity flow like living water in your subconscious. For 6 hours, your ass hardens against the wooden stool you occupy, and your brush sobs from the friction against the smooth canvas, coming to life under the lines and colors that give way to the kind face of your beloved professor.

Dissatisfied yet satisfied with the result, you head to a well-deserved night bath with painted lips. Downstairs, your grandfather kept snoring in front of the TV, where the late news reported the disappearance of the daughter of an important activist, owner of a law firm specializing in human rights, a recognized liberal, famous for his direct support of the recent protests against institutional racism and the Vietnam War. The news showed a casual photo of the daughter with her friends, posing in an empty lot next to a car under the midday sun; the photo had enough clarity and detail to notice the butterfly tattoo on the girl's shoulder, near the straps of her tank top.

Midnight. Abigail lay with her eyes closed in her bed, dreaming of sheep jumping over fences. Thomas and his wife also rested in bed. Grandpa Josh was still on the couch, but Gina took a moment to cover him with a blanket and turn off the dumb box before going to bed. The Weston house went dark, but the two men on the sidewalk across the street stayed wide awake like lurking shadows, a very accurate description because that's how they were known in the black market: "Twin Shadow," assassins, mercenaries, specialized in acting at night, with black clothes and boots, and faces painted like when the Bronx boys weren't even accepted in the theater.

Shadow 1: Thanks.

He said when Shadow 2 offered him the thermos lid he kept under his jacket, filled with hot coffee ideal for staying awake. Shadow 1 took a small sip, savoring his lips, and his gaze shifted between the house and the silenced pistol he brandished in his right hand.
Sombra 2: New model?

The second assassin's eyes stood out through the makeup.

Sombra 1: It is. Thanks for noticing. Nobody at the Kentucky convention did.

Sombra 2: "Specialists".

The sarcasm was palpable. Sombra 1 chuckled low, took another sip that warmed his throat, and handed the cap back to its owner.

Sombra 1: Very specialists.

Sombra 2: Go to the Texas ones, they're brutes, but at least they know what they're bragging about. They've got those new napalm-filled rounds; when they hit, it's a real show.

Sombra 1: Loud and flashy, I bet.

Sombra 2: I said they're a show, not that they're unsuitable for the job.

The memory of the job made Sombra 1 raise his left wrist to his face to check the watch. He struggled to distinguish the hands in the darkness.

Sombra 1: It's past 12.

Sombra 2: Shall we go in now?

Sombra 1: They'll be dreaming deeply. The usual order?

Sombra 2: Husband, wife, daughter, grandfather, and grandmother. From the one most capable of complicating things to the least.

Sombra 1: The usual order it will be.

Sombra 2: Another night, another dollar.

He raised the weapon and cocked it, ready to start the slaughter. Neither assassin noticed the third figure approaching stealthily along the road, with a silent gait, empty eyes, and a voluminous blue body (Open spoiler). The blue badger, mascot of the Stepford schools, raises its own silenced pistol and places the barrel centimeters from Sombra 2's nape, fires, and immediately fires a second time at Sombra 1.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y1-g5VG2pWg▾
Two men died without knowing how, their corpses left face-down in the soil of the Weston garden. The assassin poked each one with the tip of his paw, then lifted his stoic smile and glanced at the house; the soulless gaze paid special attention to the parents' bedroom window, lingering there for a good while.

He moved away to fetch his truck, returned, opened the trunk to toss both bodies inside, and wiped away any trace of blood spilled on the sidewalk or garden with the friction of his paw; fortunately, the earth absorbed most of the warm liquid. The mascot vanished into the night like a ghost, and at dawn, when Thomas had his coffee and looked out the kitchen window, he noticed nothing out of place—just another beautiful day in Stepford.

1/2

>>2734
>>2727
<Abigail Weston (Time: 7:30 AM. Date: Sunday, March 11, 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 70/70
Hunger: 20/20 - Thirst: 20/20
-Strength: 2
-Agility: 3
-Endurance: 2
-Luck: 1
Inventory
-Pockets 0/4
-Colored backpack 10/10
Fine brush
Thick brush
Pencil
Notebook
Blue crayon
Red crayon
Yellow crayon
Green crayon
Spare pencil
10 white sheets
-Effects
Insanity 1/100

South Suburb
Chew. Chew. Chew. Abigail gives the cereal flakes a good thrashing with her molars, previously weakened with milk from a carton; against the artist, they never stood a chance. As almost always, the eyes of a missing person stared at her from the milk container, always gray, always smiling, a photo that could make you think they are happy in that place where no one can find them.

Mom W washes the dishes (the store didn't open on Sundays), and Papa W enjoyed a cup of coffee by the window, neither conscious of the threat that had stalked them the night before. On the opposite side of the table, old Josh ate his oatmeal with a spoon he held with a trembling hand, and that tremor caused 80% of the paste to fall back into the bowl before reaching his wrinkled lips, but that didn't stop him, and you well knew that trying to help him would only lead to a barrage of curses and blasphemies that would make even the most vulgar of sailors blush.

Ding! Dong!

The doorbell. Who could it be? They don't usually get visitors so early, unless they are Adventists wanting to convince them to go to church more often so they don't burn in hell. Gina, who was watering the Marys and the Janes, was the first to notice the visitor.

Gina: Abigail! A handsome young man is looking for you! Better run before someone else takes him!
You ask permission to leave the table. On your way to the entrance, you run through your mind all the young, handsome men you know, who surely have reasons to wake up early and come to seek you out. When you peek through the doorway, you find the slender figure of your teacher leaning near the small stairs, his hands holding the handlebars of your bike, his long fair hair falling over his shoulders. You also caught your grandmother checking out his ass, nodding in approval before giving you a smile and a thumbs-up, like a Roman emperor authorizing your execution.

Robin: Good morning, Abby.

He says it with a little smile.

Robin: I brought this for you. You forgot it at school yesterday, and I don't blame you, with everything that happened...

Wait for him to come down and claim your belonging. On the other hand, look around your house like a surprised kid.

Robin: And I'm sorry.

His smile turned a bit guilty.

Robin: I had to go through your files to find out where you live. I thought about asking house by house, but in the suburbs I always get lost, everything is so... similar.

That reminds you that you don't know where Robin lives. Being a teacher at a school whose budget only allows it to operate twice a week, it's not hard to guess that with his salary he doesn't stay at the Palace of Versailles.

Gina: Why don't you come in and talk more comfortably?

Your grandmother takes the initiative. Robin's mouth hangs open after hearing and looking at Gina; it seems the offer surprised him.

Robin: I don't want to be a bother, especially so early.

Gina: Nonsense!

Your grandmother moves in, closes in, places a hand on Robin's back. The prey is confused and doesn't know how to act! Gina is a natural predator.

Gina: If my granddaughter found you bothersome, believe me, I'd make it clear. She's a very direct girl, with a fiery spirit; all the women in our family are like that. Tell me, young man, have you had breakfast yet?

Robin: Huh? No, but-

Gina: No more talk! Abby, tell your mother to set another place at the table.

It's up to you: let Robin leave with the wind, or conspire and play along with your grandmother to get him to the table.

2/2

>>2729
<Romeo "CJ" Santos (Time: 6:30 PM. Date: Saturday, March 10, 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 40/50
Hunger: 14/20 - Thirst: 14/20
-Strength: ???
-Agility: ???
-Endurance: ???
-Luck: ???
Inventory
-Pockets 1/4
37 dollars

Monkey Island
You talk only about life, the past, your old pervert ideas about Micaela, and the residual image that remains is that of Lucía Fernanda McGilligan, with her car, with her nurse facade, and her ease in saving the lives of society's outcasts. You called her, you spoke with her, you asked for help, and she agreed. You hung up without suspecting that would be the last time you'd hear her voice…

Lucía placed the receiver on the wall, sighed, and turned back to the chimera of her obsessions. The worktable, with its conceptual map on the wall, woven with red thread and thumbtacks connecting points, on the wood and on the sides piles of documents, photos, files, and compromising papers she had gathered over the last few years. Reflection of a long and torturous investigation that advanced step by slowly and encompassed a suspicion sown about the Stepford hospital. At first the institution was just a facade for her clandestine business, but then she saw and heard things, none defined, that raised her suspicions, and the suspicions led her to a spiral fall of secrets and conspiracies that she is sure no one would believe if she told them. That's why she was gathering evidence, and that's why she prepared everything to speak with a New York journalist in a week to help her preserve and disseminate what she has collected so far.

The lightbulb flickered and buzzed for a few seconds. When it stabilized, Lucia stared at it with narrowed eyes, at the same time as she raised her face and nose. Something smelled bad, not just a hunch and feeling, but a real stench, bitter, metallic odor, like a butcher shop whose products are about to spoil. Lucía was sure the smell came from above, that it was in the house. Guided by her preservation instinct, she took the sawed-off shotgun displayed on the basement wall, disassembled the weapon to make sure it was loaded… It was. She reassembled it, and went up the stairs with the barrel forward and finger near the trigger, not on, but close enough to take less than a second to fire.

Upon crossing the door that left her in the hallway, the pain hit her so hard she tilted her head and her forehead wrinkled. Fresh blood, stagnant blood, massacre… Most of the hallway remained illuminated, but the far end, the
Then she felt stupid. Her? Afraid of the dark at her age? Ridiculous, she said aloud. The power failed, a pipe burst, or the fridge broke down—everything had an explanation. In that case… why was she still so uneasy? She forced herself to steel her guts and walked into the gloom. Each step cost more than the last, but finally, the barrel's tip penetrated the darkness. Just as she raised an eyebrow, watching part of the shotgun vanish into that ethereal tar, two red dots ignited in the blackness and made her pale. She brought her finger to the trigger, but it was too late; a red, strong, glossy hand—like belonging to a body turned inside out—clamped around her neck and squeezed with such force that her scream turned into a muffled shriek.

Five minutes later, the kitchen lit up again, but in that suburban house in the north, not a trace remained of the owner, let alone the investigation she kept in the basement.

6:30 PM. Customers arrive, all with the usual small-town faces. None of them are Lucía, and you start to worry. Micaela moves among the customers with a somewhat tense smile, her burned cheek well covered. At first, it was hard for her to face them without trembling or stuttering, but slowly and surely, she began to return smiles and even say "good afternoon." Most of the men were too busy drowning their sorrows or trying to impress their dates to bother the new waitress. You got the impression you could go up for a moment and take a look… And how good that you did, because upon entering your room, you found the man of remains sitting on the bed.

Hyde: …

His narrowed, gray, tired, and distrustful eyes fell on you.

Hyde: You're not the kind of thug I expected… Did ASYNC run out of scarecrow thugs?

He questioned with a slurred voice and crushed words. He didn't look as emaciated as when he arrived, but between a man one step from the grave and a man two strides away, the difference was minimal.

Hyde: This isn't the kind of cell I imagined either… It lacks that charmingly sterile atmosphere typical of secret laboratories.

He added, looking around, glancing at the comfortable sheets, when he suddenly hunched over and suffered a violent coughing fit. Saliva, blood, and chunks of lung splattered the bed. He stayed like that for a minute, eyes wide open, until the attack subsided, he straightened up, wiped his cracked lips with his forearm, and looked at the ceiling.

Hyde: Living is suffering…

He cleared his throat. His eyes returned to you, and he showed you a toothless grin.

Hyde: If you want to torture me, just start already. If you haven't noticed, I don't have much time left… Maybe 10 days if my luck is terrible, which is most likely… Just enough time to witness the collapse of this hateful country. Being a wretched little town of the worst kind, the painful grave I deserve… We're in Stepford, aren't we?

He frowned, unsure of his location.

>>2732
<David Stanford (Time: 7:15 AM. Date: Saturday, March 10, 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 37/50
Hunger: 19/20 - Thirst: 19/20
-Strength: 3
-Agility: 3
-Endurance: 3
-Luck: 1 + 0 Melanicus
Inventory
-Secret Pockets 6/6
Plastic bag (x5 Moon Mushrooms)
Notebook
Pencil
Cat bone
Cursed clay tablet
Truck keys
-Spells
Eye of Resonance (Reads the soul imprint of beings like you. -2 Energy per minute)

Secret Base
Abe: Y-You and your legends and your thousand screw-turns! Whether it's Zeus, or A-Alibaba, or "Mambrú went to war, what sorrow, what sorrow, what grief." While you-think, D, I a-act.

As he stammers that, beneath his mask, his eyes turn to one of the plans on the wall, half-covered by pulp magazine clippings and science popularization articles. There lies drawn the skeleton of a homemade rocket that will take him to Neptune, or Pluto, or wherever the danger comes from. Of course, Abe would take a long time to start building it, and even longer to finish it; maybe he'll reach 60 without achieving it, implying he lives that long, implying the world isn't doomed for the end of the millennium.

Also, you can't forget that Abe doesn't know you killed a homeless man. But if he finds out… How would he react? He'd surely see you as a monster; after all, he considers himself a fighter for good, and those who murder homeless people cold-bloodedly don't fit his ideal of the well-intentioned warrior.

Abe: W-When the fu-fu-fu… I shit on the future! Let's see what happens with everything, with life, w-with the truth… M-Meanwhile, we have to p-prep with w-what we can. W-We have to be realistic.

You offer him a Moon Mushroom. Abe shakes his head.

Abe: I c-can't travel, D, I'm w-working.

He continued diligently pinching the little radio wheels as if they were nipples, switching between signal and signal.

Abe: Y-You know I d-don't like hospitals, D.

His face tightened. A while ago he told you his parents tried to put him in a psychiatric hospital, but they dropped the idea to avoid the term "House of Laughter" appearing in the family records. Although Abe doesn't dislike hospitals just for that, he also remembers his grandmother, the only one who loved him, died in one, pierced, full of wires and tubes, turned into a wretched husk of the proud old woman she was. Abe tried to stay away from anything that reminded him of those sorrows.

The appearance of the intruder shakes the peace. By now, Abe threatening something with a weapon is so natural it doesn't even tickle you, even if that something is a Girl Scout. What does grab your attention, though, is the doll at the young woman's belt… You move in to retrieve it; she steps back a couple of paces, more wary of you than of Abe. Did she perhaps notice your hands are stained?

Julia: You don't look like a good boy, much less a scout. And I rescued this little lady from a fearsome can of sardines. She spoke to me very scared. Do you have anything to say about that?

No. You speak of the doll with a notable sense of ownership, and you extend your hand with the intention of getting it, but something small and cold pushes your fingers aside.
???: I don't remember much, but I certainly don't see a ring on my finger that would imply the existence of potential owners.

With a tone as sharp and polished as the modest elegance of a shy lady, the voice grows in the middle of the wasteland. You search for the source with your gaze, seeing no one else among the blades of grass. You notice Abe with his mouth open and eyes wide, pointing with a trembling hand at the doll. You turn your gaze just in time to see her raise one of her pale little hands and smooth her red bangs; your face is reflected in her large blue eyes.

Abe: T-T-This is a l-l-l-l-l…!

He forgot to curse. The doll finished the sentence for him.

Annabel Lee: Alive, yes. Now, young master, why don't you be polite, welcome us to your lands, and share a tea party with us?

Abe: Huh? O-of course, my house is… His… House?

Your companion left the secret base with a confused expression, as if he didn't understand why he agreed to do them the favor in the first place. The fact is, without a word of protest, Abe leaves his safe place, while Annabel, Julia, and you take your place inside the shelter, waiting for the owner to return. Neither the girl nor the doll sitting beside her speaks to you, nor do they approach, as if they fear you'll catch lice from them. You see Annabel Lee ask Julia several times with her hand to lean in and whisper something secret into her ear; the girl nods, laughs, or looks at you with distrust.

Your friend returns, panting and sweating because he decided to run back, crawling on all fours through the threshold, and leaves a plastic tea set in front of the doll. Annabel shoots a meaningful look at the set of little cards.

Abe: I-I found it in the trash can at the magic shop.

Annabel Lee: Thank you very much; it will serve. Julia, do you have a handkerchief? I would never be comfortable in a house with dirty tableware.

Julia hands her a rag from one of her pockets, and Annabel Lee takes a moment to thoroughly wipe the grime off every plate and teacup. The process is slow, and while it lasts, Annabel Lee hums an adorable song. Abe watches her with furrowed brows, nervous, swallowing saliva.

Abe: S-sorry, uh, m-miss porcelain…

Annabel Lee: Yes?

Abe: A-are you an alien…?

The warrior of Earth clenches his fists on his knees as he asks; could this be the third-type encounter he was destined for? The doll lowers the teacup in her hand and casts a long, impassive look at Abe.

Annabel Lee: I would tell you. However, and I confess with pain, I don't know what I am.

She closes her eyes and lets out a sigh before continuing to clean her tea set.

Annabel Lee: I only remember waking up being pulled from the earth, and that the same hand that escapes the grave and rocks the cradle shared space with strange eyes, and that those strange eyes took advantage of my confusion and fear to spy on my panties and discover my name.

She slowly turned her head toward you. Julia and Abe understood at once that you were the pervert in the story and wrinkled their faces imagining you with a lecherous expression.

Abe: O-old man, r-really? T-that's v-very b-bad.

hay cupo

>>72467
Is this >>2639 still valid? {:^)

Could I send a file and get in line then? Or are you not accepting any more at all?

>>2739
You can send a character to the back of the queue, and if someone dies, or gets lolmuere, you can enter, but you would have to be watching when that happens.

>>2737
"🎶 I don't know when he'll come. Do-re-mi, do-re-fa. I don't know when he'll come. If he comes for Easter, look here, look here, what a laugh. If he comes for Easter, for the Trinity. Do-re-mi, do-re-fa. 🎶"

Completely ignore whatever they were talking about before and continue with the song your friend started reciting, adding much more musicality and melody to his words while accompanying it with a series of rhythmic thumps on his knees, wearing a goofy grin that made it clear he had forgotten about the other thing.

"Too much work kills the soul."

He puts the mushrooms back in their place and leans back in his seat with an expression of bliss, almost as if proudly saying "look what I've done by not working for me," something that surely wouldn't be a source of joy for the rest of the people, because no matter how much progress he thinks he's made in the realm of the esoteric, in the eyes of society he's still a lazy good-for-nothing with a hollow head.

"And that's precisely why you should check it. If (((they))) know you're watching them, then the best place to hide is where they know you wouldn't dare to go."

He vaguely remembers hearing something about Abe and hospitals before, but he's really not sure which story is the correct one. In his head, there's one that says he was locked up there for years, another that says he was an old worker who fled after accidentally finding out about the alien in the basement, and another where there's nothing more than a slight disgust for them. Whichever the story, he still feels the need to encourage him to overcome his fears.

"Should I look for one?"

After hearing the doll speak, he reacts with complete normalcy, as if he'd done this a million times before, which he actually has, though all of those were the product of drugs and bad trips where he ended up talking to anything nearby to try and extract information from them about how to achieve enlightenment.

"Hmm?"
Raises an eyebrow and looks confused at Abe as he stammers and points at the doll, shifting his gaze back and forth rapidly until finally understanding what's happening, then quickly gets up and slams his fist into his palm, completely excited.

"Finally you've awakened your seventh sense and can hear the voices that cannot be heard, Abe! I'm so happy for you, though I would've preferred you did it back when that Cadillac incident happened; you have no idea what great conversation you missed."

He approaches his friend to pat him on the back, then sighs melancholically about the Cadillac matter—a time when he almost got run over for staying too long under the car with the engine off, and barely avoided being sued for vehicle theft.

"I did? What was that name again?"

Looks around in confusion at everyone, then shrugs and admits he has no idea what they're talking about. David's memory was never great, and years of narcotics plus several recent weird rituals made it even worse than it already was—something he'd surely try to justify if asked, claiming that by opening his mind's eye and spying on other realities, he's connected with the consciousness of his other selves, which is why his memories often don't match what others say.

"And about what you are... isn't that obvious? ...a doll, that's what it is. Or at least that's its current vessel; it must have done some bad astral jump and ended up there without realizing it. Something similar happened to me once when I almost got trapped inside a coffee cup! Hahaha!"

Looks seriously at the others before speaking, and as if he'd just said the smartest thing in the world, puts on a smug expression when revealing the truth behind the doll, only to get distracted again by his own thoughts, recalling a time he was so spaced out he stayed half an hour in a nearby café watching the steam from his coffee, believing his soul was being lifted along with it—a memory that makes him laugh quite a bit.

>>2736
After all that text just to tell me you don't want to handle another PJ... Romeo is aware that life is good as it is now and that nothing can ruin it when he sees the drunks in their natural habitat not bothering to attack or harass a specimen of Recepcionis Micaelensis that has just been introduced into their territory.

Unfortunately, Lucifer will die without him knowing about it or caring. Probably just assuming she regretted going there at the last moment and stayed away from that world... She had his address, but he didn't have hers, so this incident will remain a mystery to everyone, and to Romeo as something that never happened. There goes a well-formulated joke and that vagabond on the second floor without a nurse stays...

His bed creaks like the typical sex scene in movies but without being that erotic, he hears it and lifts his eyes from the newspaper toward the ceiling with some intrigue and a furrowed brow. Without warning Micaela, he goes up to his room when there are no customers waiting for his drink...

—So you're finally awake Perdón, ¿El para qué cosa de quién...?

A question he doesn't understand much, probably referring to some kind of movie or penitentiary he doesn't know about, maybe a street? There are many possibilities but Romeo moves on to the next topic without deviating much.

—Oh, do you want a tough monkey? I can be one if you want, but I'm really calm today... It doesn't look like a cell because it's my room, Nick Riviera.

Better to say no before he gets the urge to relive his youth. Romeo leans against one of the walls near a mini fridge and takes a bottle of water from there... Because yes, he has everything so he doesn't have to go out or be seen for a week or so. It's worth mentioning that his room is clean, from his sheets to his things, typical things of a man who has entered maturity but still has memories of his previous years.

Well, his room was clean until that vagabond gave a demonstration of bad manners and dirtied his bed with fluids and organs... That leaves an expression of rejection and disgust on Romeo's face. Commenting that living is suffering, it seems he has calmed down from his sudden attack.

—Oh, it is, and that's its greatest charm, or take it or leave it as they say around here, you know... What conspiracy movie are you supposed to have come out of?

He offers her the open water bottle to clean her organism, since there's nothing more natural or healthy than water itself...

—And no, it's not contaminated or has substances. It's just a normal bottle...

He himself takes the water to his mouth without touching the spout to show his paranoid self that it can be drunk without suspicion.

—You're fine, doctor Clyde or Hyde or whatever you are... I called a nurse to treat you, an "special one," if you get what I mean. She'll probably arrive in a few minutes.

If that made him suspicious, Romeo doesn't care since he's telling the truth, very politely being to let him stay there without charging and offering him water. And while we're at it, he remembers exactly the reason why he's doing this, not for his charisma when spitting out his entrails, but for the girl downstairs.

—Ten days? That's very pessimistic even for you. And don't insult the people, they're nice if you know how to move around them.

Very well, to the point, doctor Trite, do you know a girl named Micaela and her father? She's downstairs working and waiting for you to wake up... Who are you?

The doctor could see that Romeo knew about being in bad steps and having people after your head, although the ones chasing him were always tangible and not the paranoid ones he talks about. It's a simple question, without wanting to bother him when the uncomfortable should be him.

...

Damn, I know I should put Stats, but those "?" placed there seem super Comfy to me and they make me smile when I see them, I don't know why...

>>2741
>>2742
Saved turns.

Until next weekend, bold.

Warning I'm feeling a bit sick. I could only complete this shift for this week. Sorry to the other little nigga.

>>2741
<David Stanford (Time: 7:20 AM. Date: Saturday, March 10, year 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 37/50
Hunger: 19/20 - Thirst: 19/20
-Strength: 3
-Agility: 3
-Endurance: 3
-Luck: 1 + 0 Melanicus
Inventory
-Secret Pockets 6/6
Plastic bag (x5 moon mushrooms)
Notebook
Pencil
Cat bone
Cursed clay tablet
Truck keys
-Spells
Eye of Resonance (Reads the soul imprint of beings like you. -2 energy per minute)

Secret Base
As soon as you start singing, Abe decides you're gone, so he ignores you to focus on the listening device, which emits little noises and hisses under his fingers, along with a loud spark that makes him bring his singed ring finger to his mouth.

Abe: I-I-I won't go to a hospital, D! E-End of the d-discussion.

Despite your encouragement to overcome his fears, Abe resists. Though perhaps he might reconsider after facing a seemingly chatty doll. Abe rubs his eyes with his hands and, lowering his fists, blinks repeatedly, but the doll remains there, held by the girl named Julia. Feeling your skinny hand on his back, rather than encouraging him, depresses him. Was all that time really true about your chatter on the magical plane and the seventh sense? Were his theories always wrong? Will he have to admit the failure of his "scientific" method and accept your supremacy? He shakes his head. Of course not!

Abe: T-There must be a l-logical e-explanation r-regarding a-all of this. P-Perhaps it's a g-government r-robot sent to c-confuse us. M-Maybe if we open it...

Hearing that, Julia frowns and hugs Annabel Lee in a clearly protective gesture. Abe sighs.

Abe: V-Very well... W-We won't open anyone. S-Stop looking at me like that.

It's up to Abe to bring the tea set. When the doll has the utensils in front of her, and after a thorough cleaning, she serves four cups, filling them with the invisible ambrosia from the teapot, and offers one to each before taking her own from the saucer, holding her pinky and index finger firmly, and taking a sip with eyes closed. Julia imitates her and smiles with childish joy.

Julia: It's the best imaginary tea I've ever tasted!

Annabel Lee: Thank you, dear. The trick is to care for the immersion.

You, on the other hand, act ignorant about what you did. Did you really spy under her skirt? Julia glares at you with narrowed eyes.

Julia: Boys are disgusting, hum!

Annabel Lee: I won't gain anything by holding grudges, and neither will you, dear.

Saying that, she places her little hand on her small chest and speaks to introduce herself.

Annabel Lee: My name is Annabel Lee... This is all I know about myself. I could be a cold machine without feelings, I could be a foolish astral acrobat, I could be any entity you can imagine... But none with certainty, because my own nature is the king of mysteries.

Abe: Y-Your English is v-very so-sophisticated...

The doll blinks slowly, as if struggling to grasp the meaning of Abe's words.
Annabel Lee: If my speech proves problematic, I shall attempt to simplify it.

Abe: N-No… It’s not n-needful… Um, w-what will you do then?

Annabel Lee: Learn from this world and self-discover in the process. When I feel ready, perhaps I’ll travel; I read about a very interesting country called India.

Remember that the doll had the audacity to peek at your encyclopedias without your permission.

Upon hearing such idealistic plans, Abe removes his cap and scratches his scaly scalp.

Abe: A-are you s-sure? The world isn’t a s-simple place for a l-little l-little doll.

Annabel Lee: Believe me, I know. Besides the barbarians who tie helpless damsels to steel boars, and the men armed with tubes that vomit fire, my intuition tells me these streets are dark and harbor horrors.

Before starting her life project, Annabel Lee wishes to stay in an isolated place to shelter and learn, and she already has a location that meets the requirements. She gazes at you with her big blue eyes.

Annabel Lee: The cabin is the ideal spot, if one ignores the mess and dirt—both issues that can be resolved after a thorough afternoon of cleaning. Although my understanding of supply and demand is scant, if you explain what you desire in exchange for space in your humble dwelling, perhaps I can secure it for you.

As you put into words the rental price, Abe gets distracted again by the radio due to a sudden, distorted sound emanating from it. Julia, drawn by the device, crawls over and sits beside him.

Julia: Is that a homemade radio wave interceptor…?

Abe jumps slightly, glancing at her with evident distrust, yet also with frank amazement.

Abe: D-do you know about this…?

The explorer nods, her eyes locked on the device.

Julia: I built one at home, but I installed an antenna that’s too powerful, and all it receives are broadcasts from Canada.

Abe: M-more power isn’t always b-better, a l-lesson worth l-learning early.

Julia: What can you hear?

Abe: A-anywhere in Stepford… D-depending on where it’s pointed or h-how it’s calibrated, o-of course.

Julia: Groovy. Um…? Kyaa!

With a very high-pitched squeal, the little girl brings her hands to her cheeks.

Abe: W-what?!

He shudders. She removes her hand from her right cheek to point with a tiny finger at a band poster, partially covered by cutouts about the Kennedy disappearance.

Julia: Do you like the BeeGees? I love them!

Abe: R-really…?

Julia: What’s your favorite song?

Abe: I… Uh…

Your companion begins to sweat. You, more than anyone, know how unaccustomed he is to receiving positive attention, and you notice his nerves are right on the surface. Perhaps it would be sensible to keep Julia away so Abe can discover the source of the radio distortion, or perhaps you can ignore it and continue with your whims.

If you agree to rent your cabin to Annabel Lee, the doll would ask you to take her back with your truck, adding that Julia and Abe can help her clean your hovel. Abe, not quite knowing why, would feel compelled to help the porcelain girl.

Get better

>>2744

"Robot? nah they're busy with the climate altering and releasing chemicals stuff, but if you are one, are you sure you want me to see your things?"

He continues the conversation as he enters, moving his hand up and down to downplay his friend's assumption, but after directing his gaze to the doll sitting right in the middle of all Abe's things, he warns him of the danger that could mean having it here

"They are until they stop being so ... today is not one of those days"

After Julia's look, David responds without much interest, giving the feeling of making a comment like "in a few years you'll think differently" only to then smell his shirt and slightly wrinkle his nose at the stench it carries, revealing that he was actually talking about basic hygiene, something he didn't do today

"The India is a country that is one with death, that's why they bathe with these and let rats run freely through their temples, also they love the idea of reincarnation and cycles, so it sounds like a good place to find a new body to reincarnate into if that's their idea"

He tries to drink from his imaginary tea while wandering about what little he correctly remembers from his books and when he sees the cup not giving any liquid no matter how much he sips, he turns it over and moves it up and down over his tongue waiting for a drop to fall which never comes but he still acts like he really tasted something sweet

"Do you have money or something equivalent? unfortunately, despite how advanced my research is, the yoke of money is one I haven't been able to free myself from yet"

He raises an eyebrow out of curiosity when he hears the doll's offer, only to quickly lower his head in defeat when he remembers the lack of money in his pockets btw I didn't clarify this before because of the joke of being confusing just for being confusing, but the house he rents is his parents', the cabin is an inheritance from his grandparents and where he does his magic shit, so obviously he's not going to rent that

"Don't forget to remember me, was that one?"

Or at least it sounds like he's heard that song humming once or twice, although he might be confusing it with a similar one and not realizing it

>>2742
<Romeo "CJ" Santos (Time: 6:40 PM. Date: Saturday, March 10, 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 40/50
Hunger: 14/20 - Thirst: 14/20
-Strength: ???
-Agility: ???
-Endurance: ???
-Luck: ???
Inventory
-Pockets 1/4
$37

Monkey Island
Hyde: Gorillas aren't monkeys.

Respond with dryness, almost with disdain, as if in your first impression of him you seem incapable of distinguishing between monkeys and apes. He remains distant toward most of your comments, too busy rubbing his left leg with both hands over the sheets. By the way his face twists and his closed eyelids tremble, you can almost feel his pain.

Hyde: Damn it...

He lets out a high-pitched voice.

It seems the pain is slowly fading, his expression relaxes, his tone regains gravity, and he opens his eyes again the moment you offer him a bottle of water. He takes the bottle with his skeletal hand and tilts his head back for a long gulp. Lowering the flask, less than half of the precious liquid remains. Hyde lets out a sigh of satisfaction and rubs one of the gaps in his front teeth with his tongue. He stays like that, saying nothing and looking at no one in particular, under a thoughtful air. He takes a second sip, finishes the contents, and hands the flask back to you.

Hyde: As if I'd care to consume poison at this point...

He speaks without looking at you, once again, focused on getting the cramps out of his leg.

Hyde: She's dead.

You respond without hesitation and with not a trace of emotion when you tell him you called a nurse to attend to him.

Hyde: Dead just like you, and all those careless Neanderthals I hear on the floor below. I'm a bird of ill omen; you would have been condemned even if you'd just exchanged casual greetings with me, so don't lament your apparent philanthropy...

He throws a reluctant laugh.

Hyde: The guys I'm up against are ruthless and selfish bastards; they underestimate their own intelligence, which makes them twice as dangerous... They won't hesitate to neutralize anyone, especially now that they're so close to tearing off the hand that feeds them, the same hand that holds the leash, and which is about to strangle them and hide their skeletons in Uncle Sam's spacious closet.

With audible crunches and a twitch in his left eye, he slowly turns his head when you mention Micaela's name.

Hyde: Little Micaela...

A muffled murmur, almost nostalgic. The fact that Micaela is no longer little makes it evident that Hyde hasn't seen her in quite some time.

Hyde: She'll be taking her meds... I hope to God she's taking them...

As if that were an important reminder, he takes the medical bag and places it on his covered thighs, opens it, and pulls out a bottle of unmarked gray pill tablets. He pours one, two, three into his hand... He blinks, pauses, and then decides to double the dose.

Hyde: Yeah... That'll teach the damn fatso who's in charge...

He mutters to himself, his furtive and glassy eyes return to you, he offers a toothless smile and extends a hand to ask you for another bottle of that rich mineral water. The moment you turn your back, Hyde loses his smile and begins a quick and meticulous review of the bag's contents, shuddering in horror upon noticing that the case has been moved. Hurriedly, he unfastens the zippers and glances inside, giving himself a good scare.
Hyde: Shit!

From your position, you can't see what's wrong inside the case in his hands.

Hyde: There's only one left. The last thing I need is another monster like the survivor...

You hear him muttering to himself.

Hyde: I should have destroyed the substance... Of course I should have! But... How? It's the work of my life... Without the substance, I'm just a ghost... Less than a ghost! A shadow.

But you can't just stand there listening to his ravings because you feel something is wrong... Very wrong. The music and voices downstairs have stopped; instead, the sound of shattering glass and a very high-pitched scream filter into your ears... Micaela's scream.

The promise you made to protect her drives you to act. You bolt, and Hyde's grim sentence haunts you.

Dead just like you, and all those carefree Neanderthals I hear on the floor below.

You reach the stairs and take them two at a time.

The guys I'm up against are ruthless, selfish bastards... They won't hesitate to neutralize anyone.

A vision flashes in your mind: a legion of men in black suits, entering and firing silenced weapons right and left, leaving two dozen corpses at their polished-as-mirror shoes.

But when you get downstairs, there are no men in black to greet you, only stunned customers, and in the center of all those stares, you see a two-meter-tall mountain man, his face red from beer, from rage, and from the four-finger scratch that's bleeding down his cheek.

[spoiler]

His trunk-like fingers grip Micaela's arm, which looks like a twig about to snap in comparison. The girl pulls back, trying to free herself from the painful hold, but the mountain man doesn't budge. One particularly indignant customer approaches with his hands up to plead for peace, but the mountain man's two colleagues grab him under the arms and throw him against a table, which collapses and tips over, scattering shards of mugs and many Dutch napkins across the floor.

Bow the Mountain Man: Nobody says NO to Bow the Mountain Man! Nobody! Especially not a burned-out slut like you. You should be glad someone wanted to touch you without vomiting!

The man roars, his neck swollen like a bull's. Suddenly, his furious grimace turns into a lecherous smile.

Bow: You messed up my face... You're going to make it up to me! And to my friends too! What do you say, guys? Ten minutes in the alley behind the bar with a beard, and we're satisfied?!

One mountain man howls like a wolf. The other licks his lips, imagining Micaela naked.

-Bow the Mountain Man
HP: 100/100
-Strength: 5
-Agility: 4
-Endurance: 5

Traits:
-Drunken (Doubles strength and endurance. Reduces agility by half)

...

-The Wolfman
HP: 100/100
-Strength: 3
-Agility: 6
-Endurance: 2

Traits:
-Drunken (Doubles strength and endurance. Reduces agility by half)

...

-Toothless
HP: 100/100
-Strength: 2
-Agility: 4
-Endurance: 1

Traits:
-Drunken (Doubles strength and endurance. Reduces agility by half)

>>2745
<David Stanford (Time: 7:35 AM. Date: Saturday, March 10, year 1973)
HP: 100/10游戏副本
Energy: 37/50
Hunger: 19/20 - Thirst: 19/20
-Strength: 3
-Agility: 3
-Endurance: 3
-Luck: 1 + 0 Melanicus
Inventory
-Secret pockets 6/6
Plastic bag (x5 moon mushrooms)
Notebook
Pencil
Cat's little bone
Cursed clay tablet
Truck keys
-Spells
Eye of Resonance (Reads the soul imprint of beings like yourself. -2 energy per minute)

Secret Base
Abe: I-I don't want you to see my things... B-But I also don't think I-I have an alternative...

It's true—Annabel's already inside, and trying to cover her eyes at this point would be kind of ridiculous. Besides, Abe’s secrets aren’t completely exposed; his key, important notes are written in a secret cipher he invented based on the Nazi Enigma code.

Annabel Lee: For your information, young man...

She begins, locking eyes with you.

Annabel Lee: I'm quite content with my body. It may be small and porcelain-like, but it's also very noble.

She declares, puffing her chest out slightly.

The matter boils down to this: Money. You need Daddy’s dollars to maintain your esoteric, self-destructive lifestyle. The doll nods, then goes very still and silent, staring blankly into the void with her big blue eyes wide open, deep in thought.

Don't Forget To Remember—could that be Abe’s favorite song?

Abe: N-No, but that one’s also v-very g-good.

Julia: And super romantic!

Nice try. You’ll have to keep guessing, because with little Julia standing right there, it’s obvious Abe doesn’t want to say it outright.

Annabel Lee: Excuse me...

The entity breaks her silence.

Annabel Lee: Is there a nearby place where the exchange of what they call money occurs?

Abe: U-uh, a bank? I-I’m sorry, Stepford d-doesn’t have one of those. E-everyone k-keeps their cash under the m-mat-mat-mat...

He opens his mouth to blurt out a curse to break the stutter, but notices Julia and thinks better of it. Instead, he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, inhales, exhales, opens his eyes, and finally releases the word.

Abe: Mattress.

Annabel Lee: I see... And a store? I saw a couple on the way here.

The warrior of Earth exchanges glances with you before turning back to the doll once more.

Abe: Papa’s opens e-early as always.

A small, colorful, family-run diner, inviting with the smell of fresh coffee and morning hamburger grease. You all get out of your truck and head for the door; Abe holds it open until all of you pass through. Julia carries Annabel Lee in her arms—the doll remains perfectly still, almost... like a doll. Inside, you find Papa on the other side of the counter, a Mexican man who came to Stepford chasing the American dream, and after much struggle and fighting against xenophobia, you could say he made it.

Papa: Good morning, kids. Want some burgers?

He greets you. His eyes settle on Annabel Lee.

Papa: ¡Valgame Dios! I mean, what a... lovely... doll you’ve got there, Julia.

Julia: Thank you, Mr. Papa.

An awkward, tense silence falls. Abe looks around, unsure what to do; Julia does too. Annabel Lee only told them to bring her here—she didn’t explain what would happen next to pay your rent. Papa scratches his chin.

Papa: Aaaaaand... do you want all my money?

Julia: Huh...?

Abe: H-Huh...?

Papa: I don’t know why, but I kinda feel like giving you all my money.

With complete nonchalance, he walks over to the cash register, opens it, grabs all the dollars inside, and hands them to you. A huge stack of green bills! All for you.

Papa: I’ve got more under the mattress. If you wait a moment while I find a bag... I also thought about mortgaging the restaurant, but that’d take longer.

Abe and Julia are stunned, bewildered. They don’t know how to react to what their eyes see and their ears hear.

>>2747

"¿How so? ¿isn't it real porcelain? ...that would be a shame, I've never made things with this but I know it's related to alchemy, if her body were made of this... then she should have good magical potential"

He raises an eyebrow curiously upon hearing about the materials that compose the doll only to then get distracted thinking about some trivial fact he read over in one of his many books and finally upon realizing the possible magical power that the little lady could have is when he realizes the fact that now I can check it so he focuses his gaze more strongly on this

"At all this, you said that before taking her out she was in some kind of sleep, by the way, doesn't anything else that was with you ring a bell?"

Do dolls dream of porcelain sheep? you ask afterwards, what he now wants to know is if she has any idea that could contribute about that tablet or at least remind him that she was just buried near a cat, so maybe the person who needs a bath more urgently here is her instead of David

"For now let's say that was it"

Seeing that Abe had no intention of saying the name of his favorite song, he decided to change the subject in an attempt to respect his wish to keep it a secret, after all, as a man of magic, he knows how important secrets can be when it comes to finding things with which to increase one's energy, whether just animically or in a more esoteric sense

"So... does anyone want something to take? I feel like getting a couple of potatoes and a soda"

He raises his hand high without much interest after being received by the owner of the place, leaving his gaze more attentive to the rest of the place wondering exactly what they are going to do here and putting on a completely surprised expression when he is given all the money, he moves his eyes towards everyone present while thinking about how to act and ends up simply accepting it believing that his previous stealth to attract food worked better than he expected

"I'll pay this time so feel free to order whatever you want"

After that he offers to share a bit of what is now HIS money while putting on a small smile loaded with ecstasy for how well it's going for him in his magical awakening, surely in no time he could even skip the part of the money to get what he wants or maybe he could achieve the dream of every alchemist and turn things into gold or at least that's what he believes

>>2748
Saved turn, black.

>>2748
<David Stanford (Time: 7:38 AM. Date: Saturday, March 10, 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 35/50
Hunger: 19/20 - Thirst: 19/20
-Strength: 3
-Agility: 3
-Endurance: 3
-Luck: 1 + 0 Melanicus
Inventory
-6/6 Secret Pockets
Plastic bag (x5 Moon Mushrooms)
Notebook
Pencil
Cat bone
Cursed clay tablet
Truck keys
-Spells
Eye of Resonance (Reads the soul imprint of beings like you. -2 Energy per minute)

Secret Base
Annabel Lee: Some sections are more elastic than others…

Confess with eyes closed and take another sip of your imaginary tea, very dignly avoiding to delve into matters of intimacy that would be embarrassing for any proper lady. Who goes around announcing the quality of their materials? Artisans and prostitutes
Julia: It's a piece loaded with pre-diluvian characters! If my immediate memory of dead dialects doesn't fail me, it's symbolism...

She pauses, and her face shifts from excitement to serene concentration.

Julia: Lemurian! There's no doubt.

She nodded to herself, adding even more weight to her certification.

Julia: Neither Gilgamesh nor Ozymandias had been born when this tablet was carved. My imagination soars when I think of the journey this old clay took to get from a sunken continent to ours.

She sighs.

Julia: If stones could speak...

The Warrior of Earth watches Julia with his jaw unhinged in astonishment. The girl's profound knowledge left him dumbfounded. How unfair! Why doesn't he get impressed like that when you invite him to stick needles in to open the charkas, or when you talk about the secret truth behind the Brothers Grimm tales?! And does he dare call himself your friend?!

...

Papa's
Faced with the owner's surprisingly generous monetary offering, all you can do is pat yourself on the back for a presumably well-done metaphysical job, and accept all the money Papa pulls from the cash register. You don't become a millionaire; the day has barely begun, and fortunately, there's still some left from yesterday's shift.

-Dollars x20
Function: Facilitates the exchange of goods.
Description: Green little papers engendered by the friends of commerce.

Now you just have to find a way to fit it in your pockets; you lack space. As you turn with your new fortune, Abe grabs your shoulders and shakes you. He doesn't look happy about your magical awakening.

Abe: O-Old man, this is ve-very bad. It's n-not our money, r-return it.

Annabel Lee: This is my way of paying for my lodging. Take it.

Papa: No way! The creepy doll just spoke. On a normal day, I'd scream and grab the shotgun I keep under the bar, but today, for reasons I can't explain, I'd rather not worry.

Julia shifts restlessly in her seat.

Do you listen to Abe and return the money? Or do you accept Annabel Lee's payment and keep it? The answer lies in your arcane hands.

1/2

>>2750
>>2748
<David Stanford (Time: 8:01 AM. Date: Saturday, March 10, year 1973)
HP: 83/100
Energy: 34/50
Hunger: 18/20 - Thirst: 18/20
- Strength: 3
- Agility: 3
- Resistance: 3
- Luck: 1 + 0 Melanicus
Inventory
- Secret pockets ¿7?/6
Plastic bag (x5 moon mushrooms)
Notebook
Pencil
Cat bone
Cursed clay tablet
Keys to the truck
¿x20 Dollars?
- Spells
Eye of resonance (Reads the soul imprint of beings like you. -2 of energy per minute)

Stepford Center
With money or without money, they return to the truck. Now you know that Annabel Lee is capable of keeping you, or at least of claiming the success of your spells by demonstrating that you're not imagining everything.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n1TNLU-ydLA▾
Already in the driver's seat, you move the gear shift, take the wheel, and gently press the accelerator. The van shudders, releases a ball of toxic smoke from the back, and gains speed like your mind when it wakes up in the mornings. You look in the rearview mirror, spy Julia rummaging through your things, Abe leaning over the back of a seat to peer out the windows, and the doll sitting on a cushion, looking back at you, in its expression you find an absolute lack of emotion. You turn your gaze back to the road and drive under that nice sunny day. Your destination? Your parents' house. Annabel Lee wants to find out how it is.

You turn north, past the little park and the mystery house. You stop at a red traffic light, the morning cars pass in front, several carrying salary slaves who drive from early to the big city. The light changes to green, you take the right turn, and continue straight, passing by the comic book store, the route 32, Braun's workshop, and the local hospital, a white monolith whose sight unsettles Abe and that Julia points at with her finger.

Julia: There's my mom working!

Past the bus stop, you take the uphill road towards Woodscrew.

...

Woodscrew
The asphalt roads give way to dirt paths that wind between the trees. Your parents' house isn't as far from the town as your grandparents' cabin, but it still requires entering nature.

Abe: Q-What is that?

You're too busy focusing on the road to pay attention to Abe's stutter. The girl peers out with him from the windows, until the doll tilts her head.

Julia: Run between the trunks...

Abe: P-Pie big? No, it's too thin.

Julia: Huh? Is it coming here?

Abe: C-Cu-Cu-Cui-Cui-Cui-Cuida...

The warning comes too late. A shadow enters your peripheral vision, shakes the bushes on a hill to your right, jumps, and lands in the middle of the road. By reflex you stomp on the brake, the wheels lock, and everything that's not tied down or properly placed falls. Abe and Julia end up on the carpet, one on top of the other. Your head bounces off the center of the wheel, making a scream from the horn and you (-20 of damage received). Annabel Lee with wide open eyes in horror, goes through the windshield and falls alongside the glass on the dirt road, bouncing a couple of times until she ends up inert near the legs of the creature responsible for the accident.

The stag with massive antlers observes the vehicle with eyes glowing in a sickly, diabolical red, a gleam that isn't of this world and that steals from the animal any trace of beauty or nature. It has blood on its fur, and strips of meat on its antlers. For reasons you can't grasp, it reminds you of the red car you saw in the early morning.

-Crazy Stag
HP: 100/100
- Strength: 6
- Agility: 7
- Resistance: 6

Features:
- Its antlers cause damage through penetration and bleeding (-5 of HP per minute. Cumulative)

2/2

>>2751

"Search, below, above, the point is that they were..."


Pauses for a moment on that last part while scratching his head and then returns to his original position after noticing that the small body of the doll emitted a similarly small aura, something he associates with the origin of its materials rather than anything else, and in the same way he also assumes that if given another body he could possibly see a new halo of colors


"¿Hmm? Oh, right! I also came to that conclusion, I see you know quite a bit about the subject, it's good to see young minds understand the importance of these matters"


Turns towards the girl at the moment she begins her explanation and by the time she finishes David proceeds to move his head up and down with his eyes closed as a sign of affirmation, pretending he has some idea of what she's talking about, after that he turns his face in the direction of Abe and gives him a mocking smile, looking quite satisfied by the fact that now he has more people on his side to prove all his nonsense


"If he gives it to me it's because he wants it to be mine, that's how things work when someone gives you something, or did you give your relatives back the money they gave you when you were a child?"


Stares at Abe for a second after he stops him but quickly shifts his attention back to the stack of bills he has between his hands counting the total amount while responding, after that he turns around and goes back to his truck as if nothing had happened, once inside he puts his notebook and pencil stored in one of the front compartments and puts the money in his pockets


"Make yourself a favor and don't inhale or consume anything, I'm not responsible if you end up entering some higher plane from which you can't come back"


Issues a warning that almost sounds like an ultimatum before returning his attention to the road, seeing Julia fiddling with her things letting her decide whether it's a good or bad idea to continue with that, surely there are several remnants of incense, aromatizers, bath salts, expired medications as well as suspicious powders and plants whose consumption isn't good for children or for anyone in general


"Son of..."


The chatter of the other occupants of the truck distracts him too much to even notice that thing they're all talking about, it's not until it jumps against his vehicle that he manages to see it, hitting his head and muttering an annoyed half-blasphemy before rubbing the area that was hit


"Better that it didn't ruin the sigils"


Steps out of the car momentarily to check on these and as expected the dents as well as the spilled blood ended up changing the flow of energy so delicate that he had put into the lines, but he also notices something else and that is the animal getting up


"I'm going to need something with which to repaint that..."


After so much time he had managed to get a result much more than satisfactory with his senseless drawings but now all that progress was gone, something to which he can't help but get a little annoyed, so between that and the aggressive look from the animal in front of him David doesn't hesitate for a moment and hurries to look for the gun he usually leaves under his seat to be able to shoot it, with a bit of luck the blood from this one could serve to paint a new one, so as a good American he opens fire before anyone can even generate any question


Dice? 1d50 = 36 1d50 = 4

>>2752
Turnito guardado.

Lanzo dados para nada sospechosos.

C:
1d50 = 10
1d50 = 2

A:
1d50 = 9
1d50 = 42

>>2752
<David Stanford (Time: 8:02 AM. Date: Saturday 10, March, year 1973)
HP: 83/100
Energy: 33/50
Hunger: 18/20 - Thirst: 18/20
-Strength: 3
-Agility: 3
-Endurance: 3
-Luck: 1 + 0 Melanicus
Inventory
-Secret pockets 5/6
Plastic bag (x5 moon mushrooms)
Cat bone
Cursed clay tablet
Truck keys
x20 Dollars
-Spells
Eye of Resonance (Reads the soul imprint of beings like you. -2 energy per minute)

Woodscrew
Abe: W-What are you saying? They didn't give me money as a kid!

With that exclamation, Abe makes his stance even clearer, insisting that Dad didn't hand over the money out of his own will, but because of the doll that messed everything up. But you don't listen and keep the modern Aztec gold. You return to the truck as if nothing happened, once inside you put the notebook and pencil in the glovebox. Now lighter, you're ready to continue your journey between the dreamlike and the economic. Abe gets into the vehicle, watching you from the threshold with narrowed eyes and shaking his head in total disapproval. His second look of reproach is for the doll.

Abe: I-I'm also watching you!

Annabel Lee brings both hands to her small chest, as if grieved by the suspicion of the Warrior of Earth. You pay zero attention to the matter and drive where the trees sing, though not without issuing a warning to Julia.

Julia: Okey dokey! Won't inhale or consume. But anyway, nothing would happen! My mom is the best doctor in the universe, she'd save me.

She declares full of confidence while lifting your flask filled with cactus flower.

You make your way through the trees. Woodscrew is as green as in any past March, of course less green than Woodspeak, because in Woodspeak the trees really do sing… Too bad you don't need to drive that deep, besides it would be impossible with the van, not even the most rudimentary roads penetrate there.

You couldn't go with the weirdness, but the weirdness came to you instead. The sudden leap of a deer makes you slam on the brakes Didn't hit the deer, if that were the case the animal would have less life. David stomped the accelerator by reflex. With your face still throbbing from the impact against the steering wheel, you get out of the car and check that the body isn't ruined. At that precise moment you notice someone wrote in spray "Wash me" on your headlights. Yeah, you'll need something to repaint that...

But first things first, the deer with glowing eyes buries a look in you that augured everything but good things. You decide to be proactive, get into the van to look for your father's pistol, the one you leave under the seat. You get it.

-M1911 Pistol (No safety. 7/7)
Function: Damage x3. Can attack up to a maximum of 2 times per turn.
Description: Semi-automatic firearm, simple action, direct recoil operation, and .45 Auto cartridges.

You check if it has all the bullets. It does.

Abe: D, w-what are you doing? That a-a-animal looks strange, c-contaminated. Better g-give it the gas and g-get us out of here.

The Earth warrior asks for caution. The explorer girl raises her hand.

Julia: I second the motion.

However, your weapon demands fire. Who will you listen to? Abe frowns.

Abe: D, i-if you get down, I-I'll take the wheel and I-I'll get out of here without l-looking b-back. You've been warned, damn it!

You get out of the car obeying your American instinct. The deer scrapes the ground with its hoof and follows you with its insane eyes. You raise the pistol, but before you can aim, the animal jumps on you. It's faster than you! The antlers of the creature promise to impale your fragile neck. But instead of blood and pain, you feel some palms pushing you...

You fall on your ass in the dirt. At the same time, you hear the roar of a crash. You turn your head and see Abe rammed against the dented front of the van. Teeth clenched, skin beaded with sweat, and both trembling hands gripping the deer's antlers, which are buried above the abdomen in twin wounds. You quickly raise the pistol again and aim. Julia, watching everything from inside the van, covers her ears. You squeeze the trigger, the barrel roars. Some ducks swimming in a nearby lake fly away in panic.

The deer collapses with a hole in one side of its skull. The red of its eyes fades, leaving behind a yellowish white with no trace of the animal's original soul. The fur turns gray before your eyes, and the skin peels off like ash carried by the wind, as do the bones, until nothing is left, as if, once stripped of life and insanity, its matter lacked hooks to hold onto the Earth.

Abe groans, slides down the bumper, and ends up sitting in the dirt like you, his hands crossed and pressing on the open wounds. Julia gets out of the car and runs to check on him. Annabel Lee gets up from the ground after much effort.

-Abe
HP: 75/100
-Strength: 6 ¡1 point added!
-Agility: 7
-Resilience: 6

Techniques:
-World Defender (Passive): x2 Stats in defensive or sacrifice actions.

Effects:
-Insanity: 0/100
-Bleeding: -10 HP per minute.

VS

-Insane Deer
HP: 0/100
-Strength: 6
-Agility: 7
-Resilience: 6

¡2 experience points received! One for David, and one for Abe for participation.

Unlike Backrooms, in Frontrooms you only receive 50% of experience points

>>2754

"Seriously? Then have it"

He opens his eyes slightly as he hears about Abe's complete lack of allowance, after that he puts his hands in his pockets and takes out three dollars which he gives to him as compensation for all those years without receiving any monetary gifts from his relatives, once he takes them he looks at him for a moment to see if he intends to return them or not, whichever the case may be he would leave anyway without saying anything else about it

"Still, I don't know if I could take you to where she is..."

He vaguely remembers that Julia pointed out when they passed by his workplace but since he wasn't paying attention he wouldn't be able to figure out which place it was, so he lets out that last warning before turning his eyes back to the road and lets her play with whatever she finds, the idea of having to relate to any kind of parents isn't something that pleases David, but he also doesn't plan on intervening in anyone's search for knowledge, nevertheless a thought keeps fluttering in his mind about simply abandoning her on the road in case something bad happens and thus getting rid of all responsibility for the matter

"¡¡Aaahh!! Even wrote with his blood!"

After seeing the writing in red spray David lets out the most ridiculous of possibilities and assumes that the crash (which didn't happen but he thinks it did) had not only enough force to make the animal bleed, but that the blood even spread in the angle and correct form to form letters

"It'll just take a moment"

Without paying the slightest attention to the nervousness of the others David takes his gun, gets back into the car, and proceeds to move his hand in a carefree manner while speaking with the calmness of someone going to the store

"Huff, huff... well... we can go now!"

He stays on the ground for a few seconds panting heavily to recover his breath and then proceeds to stand up with much more spirit than before thanks to the pleasant sensation of adrenaline and endorphins his body released during the fight, natural drugs whose stimulation he is not unfamiliar with thanks to his "research" and which he enjoys with the same intensity as any other

"There are some healing stones in the car, do you want me to bring them or would you prefer to wait until we reach our destination? I should have some bandages around here, I think..."

He approaches Abe to offer him a hand to help him up and then directs his gaze to the truck while trying to remember where he left those stones, also letting out another possible solution to his problem, one in which he sounds less sure since his voice wavers at the end, doubting whether those bandages still exist

>>2755
Saved turn.

Until next sabadaba. A kiss.

>>2755
<David Stanford (Time: 8:10 AM. Date: Saturday, March 10, 1973)
HP: 83/100
Energy: 33/50
Hunger: 18/20 - Thirst: 18/20
-Strength: 3 + M1911 Pistol (Unsecured. 6/7)
-Agility: 3
-Endurance: 3
-Luck: 1 + 0 Melanicus
Inventory
-5/6 Secret Pockets
Plastic bag (x5 Moon Mushrooms)
Cat bone
Cursed clay tablet
Truck keys
x20 Dollars
-Spells
Eye of Resonance (Reads the soul imprint of beings like you. -2 energy per minute)

Woodscrew
Abe pulls the three dollars from your hand. Not because he intends to spend them, or considers it fair compensation for years of parental neglect, but because he plans to save up to return what was stolen from Dad. Though his plans might face a delay due to the encounter with the insane deer... a delay for all eternity.

You get up from the ground, revitalized by the natural injection of adrenaline and endorphins. Too bad Abe isn't here to enjoy the moment. Even if you offer him your hand, he's too busy pressing his palms against his open wounds.

Abe: "W-w-w-wood?!" "W-What am I g-g-gonna do w-w-with w-w-wood?!"

He sounds annoyed for reasons you can't fathom, perhaps because he thinks the whole situation is your fault. Julia gets out of the truck, and seeing Abe lying there on the bumper, she covers her mouth with her tiny hands in horror.

Julia: "Good heavens, Abe! We need to get you to a doctor."

Abe: "N-n-no d-doctors!"

The commotion causes hot blood to filter between his fingers. The little scout, not understanding his reasons, raises her hands in front of her in a plea for calm.

Julia: "Okay, no doctors. But we do need to treat those wounds. My mom taught me how, the problem is I don't have what's needed on me."

That's when you say you might have some bandages lying around your parents' house, but the problem is you still have a stretch to go, and Abe might bleed out on the way. No pain without gain; you'd have a fresh corpse to experiment on.

Julia: "I have an idea."

The little scout tears the cloth hanging from your pants rings, and with the material, she takes a couple of minutes to prepare some makeshift bandages, which serve to stop the bleeding for a while until they can get better material.
-Improvised bandages (100/100)
Function: Stops 100 points of bleeding.
Description: Makeshift patch.

Julia takes charge of wrapping Abe's torso firmly. Once it's securely wrapped, she helps the Earth warrior stand up and get into the truck. Annabel Lee is already in her seat, with the subtle difference that she's now wearing a seatbelt. You start the van and drive your shattered-glass vehicle to your mom and dad's home. You're in a hurry, and in five minutes the building emerges from among the trees.

The house looks good, spacious, built during the post-WWII economic boom. But as soon as you enter, you notice the huge empty spaces, both in decor and furniture, because everything that wasn't screwed to the floor you sold to get high and eat. You searched the cupboards and the bathroom medicine cabinet, but found no bandages or medicine that could help Abe. You informed Julia of the situation.

Julia: No choice, we have to take him to the hospital.

Abe: N-No!

Julia: Shut up! It's your health. What? You want to die?

Abe clenches his trembling teeth and lowers his head, noticeably uncomfortable and indecisive. The bandages on his torso are already half-stained red. That's when the doll, who had been silently observing the rooms, lifts her little hand.

Annabel Lee: During my stay at Mr. David's cabin, I saw bandages and pills that could help. If my sense of direction doesn't fail me, the cabin is about ten or fifteen minutes deep from here.

Julia: Ten or fifteen minutes? Hmmmm...

She places her hand under her chin and looks out a window, thoughtful.

Julia: If I use the bed blankets to make more bandages, our companion will hold out a bit longer. Yeah, the cabin sounds good.

It's true that Abe would be more comfortable in your house than in a hospital, but you don't forget that in that place you keep your darkest secrets. The vagabond you killed also rests there, preserved in the fridge at the back of the basement.

-Abe
HP: 55/100
-Strength: 6
-Agility: 7
-Resistance: 6

Techniques:
-World Defender (Passive): x2 Statistics on defensive or sacrifice actions.

Effects:
-Insanity: 0/100
-Bleeding: -10 HP per minute.
-Improvised bandages (40/100)

>>2757


"Absorber su energía ¿qué más si no?"

Respond calmly to that obviousness and completely ignore your friend's annoying attitude, you're already used to him blaming you for everything, so you don't need to pay attention, like that time one of your radios almost broke because of crab juice which he definitely didn't bring with the intention of seeing if radio waves could increase the surface memory of water and thus unlock the knowledge of these

And while David gets lost in his head full of false realities and things he doesn't want to accept, Julia does the opposite and proceeds to be useful by treating Abe's wounds with things that actually work, something to which David only makes a slight expression of disgust for continuing to believe that stones would work better, in fact, he's so convinced of that he takes the trouble to put them near his friend while lighting some cheap incense

"The smell of cinnamon surely will cheer you up"

After finishing with his unconventional attempt to help, David proceeds to put the gun back in its usual place and starts the car towards his parents' house, seeming relatively satisfied with his new "window" which makes him think of a kaleidoscope of realities, reflecting each crack a different world, or at least that's what he believes...

"¿If they want bandages so much why don't they just buy them?"

Crosses his arms annoyed due to the rudeness they were showing towards his alternative medicine idea, with everything that was happening, he thought it was very rude that they still doubted his methods, so he limited himself to just giving the obvious solution for this matter and thus avoid having to hear more negatives about his ideas

"They aren't that expensive, so you can definitely afford them, besides you know that finding things there is pointless"

Before he started his "investigation", he had invited Abe a couple of times and every time he went there, the place was a mess, one that was getting worse each year, so he used that as an excuse both to avoid having to make unnecessary trips and to divert the conversation topic out of fear that someone would go to the basement and find the parts of the vagabond he had stored in jars

**As I'm such a terrible autistic person I started investigating if 20 dollars are enough to buy bandages and based on this I see that not only do I have enough money https://www.ebay.com/itm/224742791612 but taking into account inflation and the prices of things in the 70s these should be so cheap that even Julia could afford them https://www.dineroeneltiempo.com/dolar/de-1973-a-valor-presente****

>>2758
Saved turn.

I warn you that for the next turn the situation will escalate out of control very quickly. See you.

>>2758
<David Stanford (Time: 8:22 AM. Date: Saturday, March 10, 1973)
HP: 56/100
Energy: 33/50
Hunger: 18/20 - Thirst: 18/20
-Strength: 3
-Agility: 3
-Endurance: 3
-Luck: 1 + 0 Melanicus
Inventory
-Secret Pockets 5/6
Plastic bag (x5 moon mushrooms)
Cat bone
Cursed clay tablet
Truck keys
x20 Dollars
Spells:
-Eye of Resonance (Reads the soul imprint of beings like you. -2 energy per minute)
Techniques:
-Diabolic Suction: Leaves the enemy unconscious for 6 hours. The enemy must be under a state of suggestion or weakness to carry it out (Does not work on creatures that are too large)

Woodscrew
Swimming against the current, and always faithful to your fantasies, you place a few stones near Abe while lighting a bit of incense. He watches the whole process with ashen, tired eyes, but knowing you do it with the best intentions, he says.

Abe: T-Thanks, D. I'm me-me-better…

They end up at your parents' house. Julita Verne takes Abe to the living room sofa, where the Warrior of Earth lies down. At first she wanted to take him to the bedroom, but Abe distrusts that you change the sheets after renting the place to horny teenagers. The scout girl goes with her Swiss army knife and tears up several kitchen rags to continue the patch-up, and change the conspirator's bandages. Annabel Lee sits in front of the cold fireplace, and starts reading a comic she found on the floor of a room, though she lifts her gaze from the paper when you stand in front of Julia and scold her with your arms crossed. She returns a defiant look, placing both fists on her hips.

Julia: I'd go down to the center, but I don't trust your ability to keep my patient alive. I'll stay on guard until he gets better.

"My patient", he barely knows him and already tries to take ownership of him! Meanwhile on the sofa, Abe raises his hand to share his opinion.

Abe: I su-support the mo-motion.

Traitor! Judas! The thing is he also prefers to have Julia around in case he bleeds out. How is it possible that a girl barely reaching your waist, whom you threatened with a rifle, has a better reputation than your arcane methods? Before you thought you saw in her a metaphysics research ally, but now you realize you're looking at a rival. Wanting to avoid more trouble, you comment on how incredibly complicated it is to find things in your home.

Julia: If it bothers you so much that I go to your house, go and find what I need yourself.

It seems she saw through your clumsy attempt to keep her away from the cabin. Abe notices it too, though he takes for granted that the place is more unpresentable than usual, and prefers not to go to avoid tripping and burying a goddess idol between his ribs.

Julia: Listen to me carefully.

She speaks like a mom to a particularly stupid child. She raises her small hand and starts counting off.

Julia: I need alcohol, antibiotics, painkillers, cotton, and bandages. You know what? Better I write it down for you. Do you have paper on you?

No. With a marker she writes the list on your arm. You're ready to leave.

Annabel Lee: I'll go with you.

She offers her wrist, leaving the superhero comic aside.

Annabel Lee: Two pairs of eyes are better than one.
With that crushing logic, you climb into the truck with her, taking the passenger seat, the seatbelt snugly fastened. You take the wheel, driving inland. The wind and insects batter your face through the shattered windshield. Ten minutes later, your burrow appears, looking more shabby than intimidating in the sunlight. You park in front. Annabel Lee extends her little arms in an implicit gesture for you to carry her, since she can't keep up. Whether you carry her or not, you head for the house door. Nothing warns you of the danger, and free of worries, you reach out to open it, but the door leaps from its hinges and slams into your face (30 damage taken). You fall to the ground, nose bleeding, eyes watering, with the taste of blood in your mouth. Through your blurred vision, you see a large, naked, pink mass running away, whose rear end you could only describe as a pile of chewed gum. The old man with the white beard disappears into the brush, and you get up, wanting to figure out what just happened.

A pervert? A thief? Stumbling, you enter your house. You lean against the walls to keep from falling. Inside, everything is in disarray, but a different kind of mess than the one you left. You notice the door leading to the basement is hanging off its hinges. You tremble... What if the old exhibitionist was a private detective? What if he discovered what you hide down there? Fear snaps you awake, and you rush to the stairs.

Downstairs, besides the ritual space, there's the fridge at the back... Swollen as if someone had thrown a grenade inside, lidless as if someone had ripped it off... You swallow hard, approach, and look inside with your heart in your throat. The ice cream sandwiches, crushed; the Coca-Cola, flattened; the sausages with human parts, burst open... And the parts themselves are gone.

You grip the edge of the fridge to keep from fainting. You take a deep breath, close your eyes, and remember the night you killed someone. Two days ago? Three? Four? You were on an important mushroom trip, chasing fairies and goblins under the moon, when you saw a pale, lanky figure wandering among the trees, a briefcase in hand. The inhibition drugs gave you led you to act; you pounced on him with the first weapon you found... I mean, your knowledge.

Hobo: Hey! W-What are you doing?!

You had recently read a demonic bestiary where succubi stood out, and you were fascinated by their way of wielding death and power. Following the example of those beautiful and infamous creatures, you pulled down the poor man's pants against his will. He couldn't resist; he lacked strength.

Hobo: Aaaaaah! Stop! H-HELP!

In Woodspeak, no one heard his screams.

Technique unlocked:
-Diabolical Suction: Leaves the enemy unconscious for 6 hours. The enemy must be under a state of suggestion or weakness to be able to carry it out (Doesn't work on creatures that are too large)

The hobo falls with his eyes rolled back. You wipe your mouth with your forearm, spit between the roots of a tree, and rub your palms to continue. You drag him by his feet to the basement of your cabin, where, equipped with gloves and a mask, you take your time to dismember and place his parts in jars full of alcohol. The briefcase was left forgotten in nature.

But now the loot from that night is gone. What will you do?

>>2760
>you forced the poor guy to take off his pants against his will

...black i understand you want to move the story along and that's why you do things like sending me to the cabin even though i said it would be better to buy from a store, but... could you please not take control of my character like this?

>>2761
<Could you please not take control of my character like that?
Well, actually the pants thing happened pre-roleplay, and it's justified by the drug theme. As for the rest... Well, it's up to you whether to take more decisive actions. You can ignore the things that happen and go somewhere else.

>>2760

"El estará bien, if I could survive having my hands melt then Abe can last a while without someone watching over him"

After the girl's scolding, David proceeds to give a quick glance at Abe and then turns back to Julia, downplaying the whole matter by bringing up an anecdote from one of his many travels in which he saw how his hands turned into smoke until almost disappearing and completely ignoring how they grew back

"Puff... biieeen..."

But since no one seems to agree with his way of thinking, he ends up sighing and reluctantly accepting the task of errand boy, extending towards Julia that old book he bought a while ago when she asks him for something to write on, something she ignores either because it seems too old to use or simply because she wants to annoy him by scribbling on his arm, whichever the reason may be, David ignores her and drags his feet towards the van

"Sniff, the good pure air"

Trying to see the positive side of having a new window, David takes a big breath, letting a good portion of the wind entering through it into his lungs, and swallowing some insects along the way, which he initially tries to remove from his mouth by coughing, only to end up swallowing them by accident

"¡Auch!"

Minutes after the most protein-rich lunch he's had in a while, they arrive at their destination, David notices out of the corner of his eye the wrist asking for help to be taken somewhere to which he agrees by lifting it by the collar of her dress and carrying it that way to the door of his house, where he ends up dropping it due to the glass shards flying towards his face

"More like that damned imp better have a good pot of gold to compensate for this"

Nobody ever passes by here and this place is quite full of mystical energy, so it wouldn't be strange if the forest fairies have decided to finally visit and ask him to accompany them in their moon dances, but whether it's the case or not, David doesn't intend to overlook the fact that they received him in this manner in his own house, so he takes the old shotgun hanging near the fireplace and goes down to the basement in search of payment for the damages caused

1d50 = 11 1d50 = 4 dice if he finds someone

>>2762
Ah, I see by how you wrote it I thought you said he was doing that to the one who sneaked into my house, in any case I don't see what's the point of telling me about a technique that in character I don't remember having used

>>2763
Saved turn.

<I thought you said you were doing that to the one who sneaked into my house
Ah, Negro, don't think so badly of me. I know I'm a very weird OP, but I won't force your beast to give a handjob to a fat bastard.

<a technique that in character I don't remember having used
Like in Backrooms, I sometimes let those techniques slip. I recommend you take advantage of it, Diabolical Suction within reason can be useful

That said, I noticed that your beast's actions were somewhat redundant. In the turn I left you, it went down to the basement and there it found the swollen and completely empty fridge (Where I kept the remains of the man I dismembered). The vagabond in the woods is just a memory of what happened during his drug trip. The cabin, besides Annabel Lee and you, is empty. If you want, I'll give you space to perform more actions.

Apparently, I should be more specific with those things.

>>2764
Eeh, if there's no one around, there's not much else I can do besides quickly checking the house and the nearby forest areas for whoever came in, and if I still can't find anyone, I'd just drop it and do what I originally came here to do

>>2765
Oka.

>>2763
>>2763
<David Stanford (Time: 9:13 AM. Date: Saturday 10, March, year 1973)
HP: 56/100
Energy: 32/50
Hunger: 19/20 - Thirst: 17/20
-Strength: 3
-Agility: 3
-Endurance: 3
-Luck: 1 + 0 Melanicus
Inventory
-Secret Pockets 5/6
Plastic bag (x5 moon mushrooms)
Cat bone
Cursed clay tablet
Truck keys
x17 Dollars
Spells:
-Eye of Resonance (Reads the soul imprint of beings like you. -2 energy per minute)
Techniques:
-Diabolical Suction: Leaves the enemy unconscious for 6 hours. The enemy must be under a state of suggestion or weakness to carry it out (Does not work on creatures that are too large)

Woodscrew
What are two gashes in the guts, compared to your hands melting? Triviality. Even if your logic is crushing, Julia insists you bring her the medicinal resources. Reluctantly you accept your role as a errand boy, and offer the grimoire hanging from your waist to note down the list. But since Julia distrusts your ability to find the page with the note, she decides to mark your forearm.

You drive and park in front of the cabin. Before getting out you take the doll by the neck of the dress, and head for the door of your home. Moment when an escapee giant knocks you down with a slam from inside the cabin, and runs away lost among the bushes. More than a gnome it seemed like a very obese ogre, but now that it's gone it's hard to be sure. Bearing the pain of your throbbing face, you get up and look for the shotgun on the fireplace.

-Remington 870 (7/7 gauge 12)
Function: Damage x5. Damages up to two enemies close to each other at once.
Description: Short-range weapon with powerful power. Prohibited use for minors under 3 years old.

Weapon in hand you explore the house section by section: First the basement, where the vagrant parts are missing; The bathroom, which is clogged almost overflowing; The bedroom, whose bed lies untended and underwear is running wild; And the kitchen, with unwashed dishes and the fridge empty; Three of those four findings are your fault. To your relief you find yourself alone.

You gather what Julia asked you from your personal drugstore. Annabel Lee waits sitting for you to finish. You throw the loot in the van, and drive back to your parents' house. Since you forgot Annabel Lee on the dresser, you had to turn around halfway through the trip and look for her. In conclusion: You took longer than necessary.
Abe: What happened to your face?

Asking upon seeing you with a red nose, a thin trickle of blood escaping your left nostril, it still hurts. Julia takes everything you brought and starts treating Abe's wounds. When she's done with him, she asks you to sit on the furniture so she can tend to your face as well. Abe pulls his legs back to give you space. Although if you want, you can ignore the Girl Scout's help and keep insisting that the magic stones work.

Annabel Lee: How are you feeling, Abe?

Abe: B-Better… It hardly hurts anymore.

The Earth Warrior rests his hand on his abdomen, his shirt covering the roll of bandages wrapped tightly around his torso.

From the door leading to the kitchen, Julia appears holding a bottle of Coca-Cola, open, taking small sips.

Julia: Now that we're all calm, it's time to talk about what happened. We can't ignore it.

She starts speaking, then sits on the armchair near the fireplace, the one that belonged to your father, where you sometimes still glimpse his ghost when the lights and shadows mix and distort.

Julia: Exactly what happened with the deer? Besides its strange behavior and putrid appearance, I saw it vanish into thin air, turning into nothing. But maybe my eyes deceived me; I was very nervous and everything happened too fast.

Abe: I-I didn't notice the de-details… I was too o-occupied for-force-force-fighting. Damn bug.

Annabel Lee: Sadly, my memories aren't useful either; my head was buried in the dirt.

In unison, the three turn their gazes toward you, the only one who saw the conflict clearly, trusting you to help them understand what's going on. Could this be the dawn of the stinking deer? No one knows, but it would be wise to stay more alert.

Abe: It c-could be a virus, like mad cow disease.

Julia: A biological threat turning innocent animals into crazed beasts? That's not groovy. I can always ask my mom; she knows a lot about viruses, bacteria, and that stuff.

Abe: D-Did you say your mom's a nu-nurse?

Julia: I never said she was a nurse. She's the chief doctor at Stepford Hospital.

With that revelation, a touch of petulance and pride enters her sharp voice.

>>2767

"No matter how jokesters they are, they're going too far."

Annoyed both by the blow dealt by the goblins and the theft they committed, David finally stops his search and proceeds to draw a magic circle around his house using a stick from the ground, to keep them away. After that, he returns inside the cabin, takes what he originally came for, and once he finds those things, climbs into the pickup truck.

"Didn't any more freaks come close, right?"

Taking advantage of having to return for the doll, he uses the opportunity to question her about how his protective circle works, and while at it, grabs some natural ointment made with who-knows-what garbage she found in the forest, and rubs a bit of it on his face to speed up the healing of his wound.

"Nothing important, it'll go away once I wash it off."

He ignores both Julia's care and his friend's concern, heading straight to the bathroom where he vigorously washes his face, trying to get rid of the itching the ointment started causing. Once he succeeds, he returns to the others.

"Pfft, animals being animals, who cares? It's not like it's the first time one attacked me."

Julia's tone, and the fact she's sitting in that particular spot, makes her sound to David just as nagging as his father used to when asking about his grades or telling him to cut his hair—memories that bring such overwhelming fatigue that he ends up tilting his head back, visibly showing how little he cares about this topic.

"Whatever. So what were you planning to do here? Planning to throw a party? And more importantly, am I invited?"

He shifts his attention toward the doll, expecting her to explain what exactly required a place like this, already assuming it was something as simple as a party—something he hopes is true, since he always takes the chance to grab some food and drinks from such events, though he's not quite sure how much of that he could get from a party of dolls...

>>2768
Guard duty shift. See you on a date close to Christmas.

Also, don't forget that you have 1 experience point to distribute.

>>2768
<David Stanford (Time: 9:16 AM. Date: Saturday, March 10, year 1973)
HP: 56/100
Energy: 32/50
Hunger: 19/20 - Thirst: 17/20
- Strength: 3
- Agility: 3
- Stamina: 3
- Luck: 1 + 0 Melanicus
Inventory
- Secret pockets 5/6
Plastic bag (x5 moon mushrooms)
Cat's bone
Cursed clay tablet
Truck keys
x17 Dollars
Spells:
- Eye of Resonance (Reads the soul imprint of beings like yourself. -2 energy per minute)
Techniques:
- Diabolic Suction: Renders enemy unconscious for 6 hours. Enemy must be in a state of suggestion or weakness to succeed (Doesn't work on creatures too large)

Woodscrew
You forgot the doll! You make a U-turn and go back for her. You find her sitting like an abandoned child beneath your doorway. You take the chance to ask if your protective circle works, and she answers with a tongue twister.

Annabel Lee: Fierce ferrous Franciscans from fronded French fringe?

That doesn't answer your question, but gives you something to chew on during your return trip: your tongue, and the itch, because the herbal paste you smeared on your face only succeeded in reddening your skin. Since you're pale, the allergy shows up worse.

Julia: You sure you don't want me to treat that?

She asks when you exit the bathroom, pointing at your face. You ignore the itch and downplay what happened with the animal. Julia lowers her hand and frowns, just like your dad did when you refused to cut your hair and threatened to send you to military academy to "cure" your effeminacy.

Julia: Animals don't instantly turn to dust when you kill them! That defies all physical and biological order!

Abe: Or maybe…

From the couch, Abe licks his lips and looks left and right like he's checking for walls on the shore before dropping the info bomb.

Abe: Or maybe they d-do… And the entire m-meat and hunting industry is a giant c-con-conspiracy.

The girl scout makes a tired face, sighs, and shakes her head.

Julia: Abe, please tell me you're not also—

Abe: Also w-what?

Julia: Also a weirdo…

Abe: C-Conspiracies aren't w-weird! The g-government hides things!

Julia: So you're saying what happened with the deer is some kind of government master plan?

Abe: I can't r-rule it out.

Julia: And the ranchers?

Abe: Y-Yes.

Julia: And the supermarkets?

Abe: E-Exactly.

Julia: And the nutritionists?

Abe: T-Those more than a-anyone.

The girl scout drags her hand down her face and growls in frustration.

Julia: No choice then, seems the matter rests in my hands.

Annabel Lee: I can help.

The girl gives the doll a little smile.

Julia: Awww, thanks, Anna. Unlike these two, you're actually useful. I'll come get you if I need to.

You, on the other hand, want to know what Annabel Lee will use the house she rented from you for. The porcelain girl's stoic face focuses on you.

Annabel Lee: It will be my refuge until I learn enough about this world to function independently. I'd appreciate a steady flow of books and other information containers, please.

Julia: I've got books and magazines at home, I'll see what I can get you... There's one with an article about humpback whale migration routes that's psychedelic. But first I'm going to my mom to tell her what happened. That deer thing wasn't natural!

The girl hops down from your dad's seat. Then you notice she's staring at you. In her eyes is a silent request for you to drive her into town in your truck, since although she knows how to explore, she doesn't want to risk it with deranged animals lurking around.

>>2770

"¿Glossolalia? Goliards spin glyphs guarded glandicularly, Gallics hit, shout, garbled genera guerra, Gaia enjoys cawing gorigori"

Upon hearing the ramblings of the doll David quickly assumes it's a game or a code which he also opts to imitate generating in a few seconds his own word puzzle that starts with the same letter and keeps looking at Annabelle in anticipation of her answer, a gaze which he maintains for longer than necessary as he almost ends up colliding with a traffic light for not being attentive to the road

"Powder you are and into powder you will be transformed, the one who passes so quickly is not very important, what matters is how much of you you can maintain when that happens"

He shrugs with an indifferent face both towards medical help and the case of the powdered deer, then puts on a conceited expression once he finishes speaking since he self-considers quite prepared for the moment his consciousness begins to spread through the cosmos

"I support that, they still hide how to create another Mike so it wouldn't be strange if there was a way to replicate the deer thing and they don't say it"

He points at Abe with a precise finger and nods his head to support his words while mentioning the curious case of a decapitated chicken that gained quite a bit of fame a few decades ago and which several people, including David, still try to recreate without much success

"For things to flow there has to be something that helps it move"

He extends his hand towards the doll and makes a gesture that he wants more money as payment for the extended stay he just mentioned, 20 dollars is nowhere near enough payment to have the house for just one night, much less for more time than that, so far he's only taken it as an advance for the real payment which he doesn't intend to leave without receiving

Put the point on luck

>>2771
Saved turn.

Merry Christmas in advance, anon.

>>2772
Similarly

>>2771
For the holidays I won't be around on the 30th, negro. Most likely I sent you the shift on the first of the month. Happy new year in advance, have a great time.

>>2771
<David Stanford (Time: 9:25 AM. Date: Saturday 10, March, year 1973)
HP: 56/100
Energy: 32/50
Hunger: 19/20 - Thirst: 17/20
- Strength: 3
- Agility: 3
- Endurance: 3
- Luck: 2 + 0 Melanicus
Inventory
- Secret pockets 5/6
Plastic bag (x5 moon mushrooms)
Cat's bone
Cursed clay tablet
Truck keys
x17 Dollars
Spells:
- Eye of Resonance (Reads the soul imprint of beings like you. -2 energy per minute)
Techniques:
- Diabolic Suction: Renders the enemy unconscious for 6 hours. The enemy must be in a state of suggestion or weakness for this to work (Doesn't work on creatures too large)

Woodscrew
Does Gaia cackle while gorging on gorigori? Annabel Lee narrows her eyes from the passenger seat.

Annabel Lee: Oh, shut up already.

Under your parents' roof, you take every second to show your indifference toward what happened with the deer, or anything that might come of it. Abe isn't up for it either, and simply pulls out from the closet the TV you know you hide under old sheets to avoid selling it when the craving hits, along with the Magnavox Odyssey. He hooks everything up, and they sit on the floor to start playing. Abe is the detective, and you're the ghost.

Abe: A-Amigo, this ga-game's re-really scary... If they ma-make a se-second part, I don't kn-know how they'll top it...

Seeing them so calm and apathetic, hypnotized by the idiot box, Julia lets out a groan of frustration and shakes her head.

Julia: Fine, I'll go down alone! If the wolves eat me, I'll come back as a spirit and yank your feet! Maybe then you'll learn not to be so insensitive!

She marches to the door and slams it shut behind her. Annabel Lee, on the other hand, doesn't understand your finger gesture and simply ignores you, continuing to read the books she finds scattered around the various places she visits. This time, she flips through a copy of the Kama Sutra she found in your cabin.

Annabel Lee: I had no idea humans were so flexible...

>>2775

"¡JA!"

He lets out a loud and raucous laugh after seeing that the doll refuses to respond and puts on a smug smile considering this as his victory, keeping that silly face for the rest of the way.
Back at the house David makes sure Abe has his eyes closed so that he can hide the light of the ghost and then proceeds to take out a card from the deck to show it to him and thus start the game

"Maybe they can make moving images, no, no wait ¡Already give it sound! ¡¡No, no, no, no, wait I have a better idea!!"

He makes a dramatic pause and raises his hands to his head looking quite excited about whatever he is about to say, so much that he ends up dropping some of the cards to the floor, something he ignores to continue with his thing

"¡¡Images on disc!!"

He moves his hands even more intensely from his head due to the crazy idea he just had after remembering an article he read a little while ago about something called laserdisc which gave the feeling of being what will replace cassette tapes, although right now that's just the ramblings of a drugged-up idiot who just hit his head

"Can you bring some snacks since you're going? preferably some Space Food"

He takes advantage of the girl's departure to turn her into the errand girl and gives a loud shout repeating his order after she closes the door forcefully so that he is sure she heard it, then proceeds to leave the doll alone with her reading and concentrate on the game

>>2776
Saved turn, negro. Until the next end.

<David Stanford (Time: 4:30 PM. Date: Saturday, March 10, 1973)
HP: 56/100
Energy: 25/50
Hunger: 12/20 - Thirst: 10/20
-Strength: 3
-Agility: 3
-Stamina: 3
-Luck: 2 + 0 Melanicus
Inventory
-Secret pockets 5/6
Plastic bag (x5 lunar mushrooms)
Cat's tiny bone
Cursed clay tablet
Truck keys
x17 Dollars
Spells:
-Resonance Eye (Reads the soul imprint of beings like yourself. -2 energy per minute)
Techniques:
-Demonic Suction: Renders enemy unconscious for 6 hours. Enemy must be in a state of suggestion or weakness to succeed. (Does not work on creatures too large)

Woodscrew
Abe: Y-Y-Y-You're h-hallucinating...

That's Abe's response to your crazy idea about video discs. Sound is one thing, but video? How could you possibly store so many images in such a flat, limited space? Your ideas fall straight into the sci-fi bin, right alongside robots and flying skateboards.

Julia vanishes without answering your snack request—strange, because you're sure you shouted loud enough. If you were cynical, you'd think she's deliberately ignoring you.

Hours fly by. Abe swaps out the cartridges as they get bored, moving from one to the next. They played Tennis, the most dynamic; then Submarine, the most tense; then Wipeout, the most dizzying. The growl of both your stomachs, almost perfectly in sync, snaps you out of the radioactive boob tube's trance. Abe drops the controller, leans back, and tosses his head against the sofa's backrest.

Abe: H-Hunger...

He presses a hand to his belly to emphasize the obvious. You're thirsty too, but that's easy to fix with the colas in your fridge. Hunger's another matter—your pantry's completely empty, which is why you asked Julia for those nutrient bars you love so much... But now that it's already 4 PM, you're starting to doubt she'll ever come back.

Annabel Lee keeps reading her stuff—this time a copy of The Hobbit. She started with The Lord of the Rings, but since she didn't understand squat, she switched to the prequel, which is much lighter and easier to digest.

Abe looks at you from his side of the sofa.

Abe: I-I-I know a place w-w-we can get f-food... Wanna g-go down?

He asks, since he doesn't know what you're planning.

>>2778
>HP: 91/100
Fixed. The pain in the face went away over time, although you still have bruises.

>>2778

"Maybe, but a man can dream"

For the first time in a very long time he accepts the impossibility of one of his deliriums, or well, more or less since in the end he still maintains the hope of seeing something like that, but for now he'll have to be content with what he has so he returns his attention to the multiple and entertaining games on his console

"How long can someone take to get food?"

And as his stomach torments him due to the lack of food he sets aside the controller to stand up and go to the door to take a quick look outside in search of the girl who was entrusted with the task of bringing provisions, but no matter how much he lifts his eyes in the distance he can't spot her, forcing him to return inside

"Leave, just wait a bit while I wet my face"

If the food wasn't coming to them then they would have to go get the food, but before that he made a quick visit to the sink to finally get rid of the annoying sensation of itching left by the ointment he had put on earlier

"Let's go then"

Once he finishes with that he returns to the living room, lifts the doll from the fabric of the neck and carries it with him outside, closes the house door, gets into the truck and leaves the doll in the back of it finally driving to wherever Abe tells him to go

>>2780
Turno guardadito.

I'll try to add more spice in the next one. I know that in the last ones not much happened.

>>2780
Negrito, sit here.

He extends a chair

I need to be direct, because in a healthy relationship the realities are said face to face. The truth is that...

He sighs

I think I'll kill the role.

Last week I tried to write you a good turn, and although I managed to get to scenes that I liked, for example one of Abe and David smoking marijuana in a bunker of a house in the North suburb, while listening to Slow Hand by the Pointed Sisters on the radio, the truth is that it was difficult for me to continue from there and link it with the general story that is happening in Stepford, because although it wasn't said, the plan was that the story would end in 10 to 11 days in role. I don't know if the discouragement is due to the fact that this start of the year was quite... Erratic for me, but just in case I'll make the question, do you feel like continuing? I ask because I don't know if my lack of inspiration is being transmitted in the turns you left and that would sadden me, like offering half-cooked meat.

In case you decide to continue, maybe this "Low Momentum" will pass and I'll return with renewed strength next Saturday. But if you also want to make the stop, that would be fine. I would just ask you to note your opinion on my successes and failures as OP throughout the experience, because the feedback helps me improve.

>>2782
If you want to continue I will continue, but I don't intend to or have any intention of forcing you to do something that doesn't satisfy you, so there's no need for you to give any explanation, if for X or Y reason you don't feel capable of continuing then there's no need for you to do so, the role is yours and therefore the decision to continue or not is solely up to you

As for the feedback, I don't know, the things I noticed most as a problem I already mentioned before, which are the theme of assuming actions for my character or the quick scene jumps, as for the rest I don't have much more to comment other than that it was curious to know how willing you would be to let an important npc die even if that means changing the plot significantly

Good, there we'd have to define what "important" means, because the plot itself would keep moving regardless of whether every character introduced so far exploded spontaneously. It's just that the ending would be a Bad End.

It really bothers me to end things like this, but continuing half-heartedly isn't the idea, especially when the point is for both OP and players to have fun. I'll give myself this week to clear my head, and if I don't send a turn next weekend, my decision will be implicitly clear.

In any case, I want you to know I really enjoyed roleplaying with you, and thanks as well for sticking with me until the end. If I ever start another roleplay, I hope you can join, and if you do, I hope to fix the mistakes and shortcomings I had with The Frontrooms.

>>2782
Ayy OPecito, I feel like this is my fault too. Maybe I shouldn't have paused Abby (because if I was going to abandon her I didn't expect to come back kek)
But anyway, as the other nigga said, you have the final word; if you don't want to continue nobody is going to force you. You're a great OP, I enjoy your role and I'd rather you enjoy writing for us too.

>>2785
It's nobody's fault, simply, as Austin Power would say... I lost my mojo! And before continuing with half-measures, the best thing is to rethink it. I also liked rolling with you, nigga.

>>2734
Dead roll, but I always wanted to answer this
>Abigail
Romance and horror are the primordial fuel of painting. Stirred by a morning of love and a night of fright, she whipped her brush, and from the oil was born symmetry and beauty. But it was imperfect; those eyes didn't reflect her fire, that skin didn't exclaim smoothness in every stroke, those lips weren't magnetic. And although art should provoke feelings, she didn't seek this one, the anger that filled her.

She tore up that painting. And thought of aborting it, for it was her failed child. But even imperfect, in her hands, when she saw the projected shadow of the real world, she was Plato. And with all the regret that comes with not having the ideal form in her hands, she lunged nonetheless to passionately savor the imagery -because for her it is imagery- of her beloved.

Her lips ended up soaked. All four lips. And after the exhausting painting session, she wanted a good bath.

With a heavy sigh, she turned on the water and let the tub fill. She looked at herself in the mirror, her mouth ridiculously painted, and without expressing any emotion, she undressed.

She watched the fabrics fall, until her slender, petite body was freed. Hairless, with the years beginning to lay their shading brushstrokes. She turned to the side, and modeled for the architect who draws the reflection. She showed her modest bust, her humble buttocks. She was Venus, she was Cassandra under the protection of Pallas, though she wanted to feel beautiful, enough for him, her attributes were not those of the statues she imitated. She herself, does not awaken the desire to paint herself.

The water was ready. Abby extended an arm before her, and did a ballet turn that brought her closer to the tub. She thought this idea was beautiful, and that perhaps Robin would admire, if only the intention, if his eyes witnessed that she too held the art of the most delicate dance in her heart. She wanted to jump into the bathtub, but she wasn't that reckless. She straightened up.

"I want bubbles. A good bath is also art~"

She took the bubble bath bottle and squeezed it into the tub. She thought she had just spoken to herself.

"A good conversation with yourself is also." -it's art too, she says, justifying her strange behavior, she had already had this conversation with herself, she talks to herself often-

The bubbles rose and her leg went down. Testing the water without fear.

"Oof!, The fire has engulfed my skin, punishing my sins!" -she sighs-
She put in the other leg; it was hot, but not that bad. The sigh came less from relaxation and more from realizing her dramatic act wasn't helping her artistic block at all. She sank down quickly, almost letting herself drop into the water, which splashed a little, and leaned back as her exhausting day deserved. Abby closed her eyes and whimpered.

"Ahh..." – past the initial wave of warmth, she felt pure pleasure –

"How much must the free soul of a painter suffer for art to be born... How much must it love..."

"How much must it seek...? And my paintings—why haven't they gained any value...?"

"..." – her pulse slowed – "I've suffered and loved today. And I've only sparked embers, not flame. What's missing from me...?" – she touched the spot where the vaccine was – "Pain...?"

"Or..."

Then, in the darkness behind her eyelids, she painted with idealism the most beautiful features she knew—ones that made her tremble to her core, ones that just thinking about activated even her sense of touch. She recalled, along with the image, the taste of their lips, reigniting a heat that didn't come from the water. Rapidly, her heart played a tune, pumping blood with the force of a drumbeat, making her cheeks glow.

"Oh... Love..."

With regret, with deep shame, her hand—stumbling through the air as if an invisible thread were yanking it back, telling her not to continue—submerged and answered with a slow, sensual caress the violent tingling that pierced through her. She shivered, like a rose caught in a gust of wind similar to the one she'd just exhaled in a sigh. But her desire urged her to go on.

"Ahh..."

She tenderly attended to her sensitivity. Tracing slowly over the outer lips, as if trying to engrave them onto her mind through touch alone, to later transfer them onto canvas. Her mind clouded over, and, as if rescuing her heart—which seemed ready to fly right out of her chest—she cupped it in her other hand, intensifying the sensation.

She discovered. Over her sweetest folds, a spot that drove her insane. There, she found the final refuge of pleasure, the home of her moans, the origin of her release.

"Ah-!"

She covered her mouth as wave after wave of sensations so intense she could only compare them to electricity crashed over her.

"Robin..."

Gagged, she still managed to murmur the name of her desire—the one to whom she dedicated her first orgasm.

...after that, she stayed there. Panting. She stared at the ceiling, almost dazed, overwhelmed with immense shame. She ran her hand over her face, fixing her hair, which had become messy during the act. She finished cleaning herself up.
Once outside, without a towel, she looked at the mirror again. Naked, different. Not physically. She frowned slightly.

"...I enjoyed it."

She confirmed it, refusing to let the mirrored world judge her. There was no more room for shame—her love, and the pleasure that quickens her heart, is... the recipe to find her art.

Abigail dried herself with that resolve, and in an act of hidden rebellion, didn't get dressed before going to bed. She looked, through the dim darkness of night, at the canvas that was no longer empty, yet still imperfect... And turned off the nightlight, the only one still on.

"Tomorrow... I've already figured it out..."

She slept, having set her brush on its path.

...

>Thomas
Another night. Thomas was about to finish the newspaper, every single page—even the ads, which "might have something interesting." He wasn't particularly fond of novels, but he liked reading something before sleeping... Meanwhile, beside him, his wife had already turned her back, but hadn't fallen asleep. She struggled to fall asleep with that nightlight still on.

sigh

>Celia (Abby's mother)
"Abby didn't want to come down for dinner..."

>Thomas
"Ajá."

>Celia
"She locked her door... Said it was important..."

>Thomas
"Mhm..."

>Celia
"What do you think she was doing?"

>Thomas
sigh "How the hell should I know... The same weird crap she always does. Painting, or whatever. Maybe we should take that away from her, make her learn something that actually makes sense. She's a strange girl."

>Celia
"Take it away?" —she glanced behind her—

>Thomas
"That girl's getting worse and worse." —turned the page— "The things she said to me today aren't normal. If she acts up like that again..."

>Celia
"What did she say?" —he didn't tell her, she was just the wife after all—

>Thomas
"..." —he stayed silent for a moment— "She told me she's rebellious. And she was doing her weird stuff, didn't want to answer me properly. Made me look bad in front of some other guy from the FBI."

>Celia
—turns around, thoroughly confused— "FBI?"

>Thomas
—looks at her, half-confused as he remembers— "Yeah, some lunatic... Thought he was my friend or something." —shakes his head in disapproval—

>Celia
"What was someone from the FBI doing there?"

>Thomas
"Nothing. What matters is what Abby did."

>Celia
"What... what did Abby do?"

>Thomas
"She made it look like I don't know how to raise a damn child."

>Celia
"Huh? What are you talking about...?"

>Thomas
-closed the newspaper, got tired, couldn't read and talk at the same time. It distracted him- sigh -stared intently at Celia- "She misbehaved." -that was all she needed to know- "I think we've given her too many freedoms. That girl... you give her an inch and she takes a mile. It's always the same. All she thinks about are those stupid paintings, or... I don't know, brushes or something..." -he indulged her whims, but never really knew her well-

>Celia
"She likes to paint..."

>Thomas
"Pft... That's got no future. People only bought her junk because they're from the same class, or because they're distant family." -things Abby proudly mentions- "The only one who bought one of her stupid things without knowing her beforehand?" -a fellow officer, Thomas's colleague- "Me!" -points at himself, annoyed- "I gave her the money so she could pretend someone actually wanted to buy her crap."

>Celia
"I didn't know that..." -smiles, she likes the gesture even though it's now filtered through annoyance-

>Thomas
Complaining sigh -leans back on the bed- "That's not the point."

>Celia
"What are you talking about, honey?"

>Thomas
"You give her an inch and she takes a mile." -repeats, Celia looks expectant- "You know what they say... spare the rod and spoil the child."

Celia frowns slightly, showing concern.

>Celia
"Mom wouldn't allow it." -allowing Abby to be hit-

>Thomas
"She's my daughter." -picks up the newspaper again- "Besides, your dad would like it."

>Celia
"Honey..." -sits on the bed and strokes his chin, not meeting his gaze- "Are you sure you want to do that...?"

>Thomas
"..." -sighs-

He's not sure. But he thinks it's the right thing. Their eyes meet, and she kisses him on the lips.

>Celia
"Put that aside, let's rest, okay...?"

Thomas sighs again. He can't remember the last time he sighed so much. He had to be in at 8 tomorrow. Celia was right. He looks down, folds the newspaper and sets it on the nightstand. He stretches out, and finally, the click sounds, leaving them in darkness.

Thomas turns his back to his partner, and she moves closer, pressing her chest against his back, curling around him like a spoon. She whispers a tender 'goodnight' against his back, which he returns.

"Goodnight."

More seriously.

Celia relaxes quickly, and only the sounds of the night remain. The soft sighs. But Thomas's eyes stay open for a long while... What was he going to do with that girl...?

1/2

Placid Sunday, just another morning. Her white sheet shimmered under golden rays, outlining the silhouette of the body she'd finally discovered last night. Her dreams—forgotten now—had been adorned by a vague sensation that allowed her to savor love as art. Things she experiences up close yet somehow elude her.

She wakes with the slowness the sun, so patient, grants her through caresses on her face. Her eyes open fully without delay; she slept well. The intense experience gifted her a pleasant lethargy. She gets up, resisting the urge to raise the blinds and let her eyes greet the landscape because she's naked.

"No one else is supposed to see this," her body seems to say, as she spins playfully toward the dresser.

She begins to dress. She has a big day ahead, and she'll live it beautifully. Rummaging through her clothes, she decides to embrace style—puts on navy blue high-waisted flared pants with a red belt, pairing them with a green tea-colored shirt with a pointed collar. She searches for a blazer too... only has one, floral.

"I love it."

She puts it on and looks in the mirror. She looks neutral... then dares to unbutton several buttons, exposing cleavage. The idea embarrasses her, but also liberates her. She smiles. Fixes her short hair... and now, finally, raises the blinds and opens the window...

The outside seems brighter than yesterday. Days in Steppenford are always a landscape. She loves the sun, adores it, can inhale the scent of morning. And release a sigh of satisfaction. Things were going to change, somehow.

"All future time is better."

That's what she believes. She turns from the window. Passes the painting with just a glance. She'll return to it later, with far more energy. Opens the door, and heads down for breakfast.

She passes through the kitchen, as lively as ever. Celia hums a sweet tune stuck in her head after passing once through a store playing music—a melody from another world, from an album with a beautiful blonde woman gazing at the sky. Life on Mars from Hunky Dory, by David Bowie

"Good morning, Mom!"

She exclaims, wanting to be seen.

>Celia
"Good morning, my li—"

She sees sternum, a little chest. Doesn't matter that they aren't mountains—she sees skin. Like how those crazy girls dress without a bra, that supposed new fashion trend making women clutch their chests.

"My God!"

Abby had already walked past by then, heading straight to the table where her father sat with a coffee cup, today's newspaper, waiting for the eggs and bacon that already smelled delicious.
>Abby
"Dad!" -she felt daring, she wanted to show her rebelliousness-

>Thomas
"Good morning, Abby."

He replied dryly, without taking his eyes off the newspaper. He was still thinking.

>Abby
"Daaad." -she doesn't give up- "What are you reading?"

>Thomas
"The newspaper."

>Abby
"Ahem..."

Celia comes out from behind, peeking nervously from the kitchen. She doesn't know what to say, she knows she should intervene, but at the same time, sticking her nose in would make them see Abby... like this.

"Look at me!"

Another sigh escaped the man. He lowered the newspaper, and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he saw his daughter with her breasts almost bare, like a harlot, smiling like an idiot while her hands separated from her body with palms wide open. As if saying 'this is me'.

>Thomas
"Abigail." -he said as he stood up- "Button that up and go put on a bra this instant!"

>Abby
"Huh?! But Dad-"

>Thomas
"SILENCE!" -Abby flinched slightly- "I won't let any daughter of mine dress like a... A... Whore." -he said, pointing-

>Abby
"..." -her eyes widened for a second- "..." -silence, she put on a normal face-

>Thomas
"..." -he breathed-

Abby lowered her gaze but not her defenses, she buttoned her shirt up to her neck, and went upstairs without saying anything. She had a lot to say, she thought, but nothing came out. She left, observed by Celia on her way, who looked at her with a sad face. Thomas slowly returned to his seat, the weight of his own words seemed to leave him not knowing where to look either. He took refuge in Celia's face, but she looked somewhat sad.

"..."

Better, he looked at the newspaper.

...

>Abby
"Is all I've done just being a whore?" -she asked the mirror as she put on her bra- "Is loving, perhaps, the conduct of a whore...?" -it hurt her to be pigeonholed with that word, maybe she would have been indifferent, but she felt that an insult from Dad hurt much more- "Woe is me... Father, why have you turned this beautiful morning into a tragedy?"

She felt like crying. She didn't, she didn't want to start the great day like this. She put on the same clothes, now with the shapes approved by her dad, and went downstairs again. She served herself some cereal, Mom had already served food to the rest. They were all seated, in a strange silence. Abigail ate with her head down, without any witty remarks. In silence.

(The silence is heavy.)

She was doing it on purpose, she wanted the silence to weigh more than anything else. Thomas couldn't help but glance at her from time to time, he didn't understand her. She looked melancholic, with downcast eyes and lips set in a calculated seriousness. And, ironically, the most uncomfortable one turned out to be Celia.
>Celia
"...Don't you want me to cook you something, sweetie? Are you really just having cereal?"

>Abby
(Nothing. Just cereal.)

She thinks it, doesn't want to speak.

>Thomas
"Answer your mother." –he commands–

>Celia
"C-carrie..."

>Abby
"..." –pauses mid-spoonful– "...no, nothing."

>Celia
sigh "You're sure?"

>Abby
"Nothing." –repeats, choosing the most uncomfortable word possible–

>Celia
"Hm..."

>Thomas
"Ja... Your loss." –they don't even look– "Eggs and bacon are the best." –Abby finishes the bite– "You don't even know how to eat something good." –Abby chews– "..." –mumbles–

>Celia
"Jaja..." –fakes a laugh at Thomas's comment to lighten the mood– "ehm... Dad." –tries to change the subject– "Did you watch anything interesting on TV last night...?"

And so they pass another while in nothingness. Until Thomas finally lets some of his resentment fade.

>Thomas
"Uh... don't you wanna go to Simulatron or...?"

>Celia
"Oh, great idea!" –exclaims, genuinely cheerful–

>Abby
"Nah..." –this time, genuine–

>Celia
"Oh..." –feels like she's been slapped down–

>Thomas
"What, no?"

Celia
"Who could it be?" –gets up, unwilling to miss a chance to get scammed, though she might score a new vacuum cleaner–

Celia/Thomas
"Oh!" / "What?" –one is surprised, the other also, but less pleasantly. Abby bolts down and runs to the door at the cry of 'I'll get it!'

Abigail stopped short before the wall stopped hiding her, then stepped out with a balletic lateral leap, full of grace, ending with hands at her sides as she finally saw who stood at the end of the hall.

"¡!" –a hesitation, like a choked guttural sound. A glottal stop. She straightened up and composed herself, flashing a smile at her grandmother for an instant before turning back to her teacher–

<Good morning, Abby.

"Good morning..."

Her words were like watercolors, activating a tone drenched in sighs, watered down by love. She runs a hand through her hair, adjusting it slightly without dropping the smile.

<I brought this. You left it at school yesterday, and I don't blame you, with everything that happened…

"Oh... Right. The morning was a Greek tragedy... But the ending was... hopeful."

(Tell him to just leave it there...)

She thought, since they lived in an area where they could easily leave the door open. That's what Abigail believed. But even if she didn't know, she walked down, with a better idea. She reached out and went for the doorknob, accidentally brushing Robin's hand

"Sorry..."
She was seeking contact. Her hand holds the bicycle. The closeness excites her, yet she prefers to step back a little—safe distance to talk to a police officer without interference (3 meters)—giving her hero a pleased glance.

"Thank you so much... You're very thoughtful. Quite the gentleman." -she flatters as much as she can-

<And I'm sorry.

"Huh?" -she's surprised- "And why on earth should you be sorry?" -alarm fills her, had she been deceived perhaps? Her world wobbles-

<I had to check your files to find out where you live.

Abby sighed at the privacy violation as if a truck’s weight had lifted from her shoulders. She now knows Robin is aware of her dust mite allergy, her home phone number, and of course, her address. Basic things in a relationship.

<I thought about going door to door asking, but I always get lost in the suburbs, everything looks so... similar.

"I understand." -she said, raising her gaze, with a silly smile that won't fade- "Monotony can be disorienting, confusing, and in a painting, almost dull." -almost, because while it would limit your creativity to repetition, redoing the same thing multiple times has its charm- "Don't apologize for that. Really. It's a very sweet gesture. That you went through the trouble... Shouldn't I be the one apologizing, perhaps? I'd ask Minerva right now."

She consulted the man because heaven and Rome were too far away. She's glad Robin knows where she lives. And from this situation, only one thing slightly saddens her: not knowing where he lives. So slightly, though, that it doesn't bother her, because she knows that if she keeps walking through the tunnel, in the end they'll be together and share everything. They're connected, they just need to move forward.

<Why don't you come in and talk more comfortably?

Abby's lips form a delicate circle from surprise, mirroring her teacher's. But she relaxes more quickly, breaking into a broad, almost mischievous smile as the grandmother invites him inside.

(I love you, grandma...)

<Don't even mention it! Abby, tell your mother to set another place at the table.

"Right away." -she turns with the bike, then glances over her shoulder- "Mom told me to ask for whatever you'd like for breakfast~ I'll get you a great breakfast." -she winks at him-

She walks. Crosses the doorway, turns once more.

"Sorry, I know clarifying this feels anticlimactic after what I just said. But I think I haven't made it clear enough: I want you to come in now. I don't like ambiguous scripts." -she lets out a little laugh, waiting for him to enter the house-

2/3
Keksito, this feels strangely politicized

a small conversation arose among parents seeing the fervor with which the girl rushed to answer the door. and it was already reaching its end, and of course, drawing conclusions.

>Celia
"maybe she was waiting for someone... special." -she admits it; her girl is growing up-

>Thomas
"she never told me anything about that." -he's less accepting-

and then, the little one enters the scene. walking with an entirely different air than when she left, intoxicated by a love that makes her smile, raise her finger, and speak with more sweetness than sugar.

>Celia
"abby!" -she calls out; thomas just stares, subjecting her to jealous scrutiny-

>Abby
"mother, please, make a little more room in the flavor of the morning! a chair, a plate, and serve your finest breakfast dish... for excess."

>Celia
"ah, yes my queen." -she gets up- "are you going to eat?"

>Abby
"it's for a guest, truth be told. the lie discarded." -she asked robin to wait before introducing him; she'd call him in as soon as she was done; thomas was already frowning-

>Celia
"oh!" -she's a bit delighted, feeling she was right... her daughter has fallen in love- "and who is it?" -she asks to see him-

>Abby
-looks behind her- "dear professor robin, please, come forward~"

and so, he steps forward into the spotlight. his presence shocks everyone in the room; celia's eyes fly open, horrified for a second; thomas crushes the newspaper as if witnessing a crime. robin, with his androgynous beauty that abby adores, was not without controversy in a conservative household.

>Celia
"i'll go cook."

she steps away. not knowing what to think, it takes her a second even to look properly and understand that her daughter isn't some sick deviant drawn to this long-haired man's delicate features. she must sort her thoughts; she'll make a grand breakfast for him... but she needs every second in the kitchen to recompose herself.

>Abby
"see? mother will make a breakfast beyond delicious—you can believe it. i'm as delicate with food as i am with painting. please, follow me." -she invites him to sit, leading him by the wrist, pours him some orange juice, and sits beside him-

thomas glares murder at the other man. struggling so his quick-trigger side doesn't make him draw immediately. abby gazes up at the professor with the same eyes she uses to admire art. and it enrages him. he doesn't know whether he's more upset by how the guy looks or by how his daughter looks at him—but it doesn't matter.

"well... i couldn't introduce you to mom. but... this is my grandpa josh." -points with her hand- "and how venerable he is. i respect him, even if he's from another era." -leans in to whisper- "but he doesn't want me to help him with that oatmeal he struggles to bring to his mouth. jiji"

>Thomas
"abigail!" -he scolds her for the closeness; she returns to her seat somewhat reluctantly, looks at her dad with mild discomfort, but decides to smile; the moment with robin is a balm for everything else-

>Abby
"he's my father, thomas. dad is a... ahem. agent."

>Thomas
"police."

>Abby
"ah. that's right. but he's one of the groovies, isn't he?"

>Thomas
"what was your name again?" -he asks the professor-
Robin!

"And what exactly did you come here for...?"

>Abby
"He brought me my bicycle. And later, we're going to the Simulatron together." —she just made that up—

>Thomas
"What?!?" —that catches him off guard, anger replaced by pure confusion and surprise at such a revelation—

Celia returns a little while later. She refills everyone's orange juice if it's gone below half. And she places before Robin a gorgeous plate: two eggs with runny yolks, pancakes topped with melted butter drenched in maple syrup, two large strips of bacon, and a large toast cut diagonally in half so it looks like two.

>Abby
"Thank you so much, Mom." —she's cheerful—

After that, she sits back down, with a somewhat nervous smile, yet more accepting.

>Celia
"Sorry for the wait... Did I miss anything?"

>Thomas
"Nothing..." —still staring at the guy— "hey. And you... 'Robin', right...?" —says the name with a mocking tone— "why the fuck don't you cut those filthy greasy locks like a real man?" —Abby is already frowning— "You're not one of those dirty queers, are you?"

>Celia
"Dear..." —gets tense—

>Abby
"I assure you he's not!" —raises a finger— "Professor Robin is... very masculine..." —her other hand wanders, and somehow reaches her professor's knee, gently caressing it, then his thigh—

>Thomas
"Oh yeah? Doesn't look like it to me. You know being a faggot is illegal, right?" I suppose back then it was illegal in nearly every state. Unless Steppenford happens to be one of the 4 states that had just legalized it, which would fuck up this dialogue lol "Don't wanna spend two years in a cell. Or do you? I've heard queers have a rough time in there—"

>Abby
"Dad!" —stops touching Robin abruptly—

>Thomas
"What? I was just asking."

>Abby
"You're embarrassing me... Professor Robin is..." —touches her heart, blushing— "special... to me..."

>Celia
"!!"

>Thomas
"..." —takes a deep breath, suddenly stands up— "I gotta go to work."

>Celia
"Dear—" —stands up too, but he was already gone. Celia sighs; there was nothing to do when he got like this... she sits back down—

>Abby
sigh of ugh what a drag "sorry about him... I'm afraid in the end, he's just another one of those cops..." —eyes closed, indignant—

>Celia
sad sigh "Abby..." —this girl...—

>Abby
"Anyway... Robin, this is my mom. Celia."

>Celia
"Pleasure to meet you..." —despite everything— "Abby really enjoys painting... I suppose that's something you taught her." —she says "painting"— "uh... thank you for that."

Abby always felt she had the talent, but she wouldn't discredit Robin's help.

"And..." —just making conversation— "what... ahem..." —wanted to ask what his intentions were with her daughter, but that didn't seem like the best word— "what kind of connection do you two have?"

Abby tenses up. That was a question she was extremely interested in. Meanwhile, some oatmeal spills onto Celia's blouse.

"Oh Dad... seriously, don't you want a little help with that...?"

3/3
Now I can finally rest in peace.
Thanks so much Steppenfoooord sorry for so little

>>2780
<David Stanford (Time: Indeterminate. Date: March, year 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 50/50
Hunger: 20/20 - Thirst: 20/20
-Strength: 3
-Agility: 3
-Stamina: 3
-Luck: 2
Inventory
-Secret pockets 2/6
Truck keys
x17 Dollars
Spells:
-Eye of Resonance (Reads the soul imprint of beings like yourself. -2 energy per minute)
Techniques:
-Demonic Suction: Renders enemy unconscious for 6 hours. Enemy must be in a state of suggestion or weakness to succeed (Does not work on creatures too large)

Stepford
Static cuts the screen, a storm of snow encapsulated. Abe removes the semi-transparent panel and smacks the television. The image clears, but instead of showing two pixels of light, it displays a strange music video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjxSCAalsBE▾
You feel a tingling in your perineum. Something in the ether has changed. Maybe it's a message from the lower astral—omen of future blessing or warning of ill fortune?

Abe takes off his cap to scratch his scalp, theorizing the antenna picked up a signal from some other house. Unlike you, he's a skeptic of magic, but no science book or conspiranoia could prepare him when the window explodes from an impact, and a dark-winged bird of prey bounces and flaps against the wooden floor, then stands up and starts pecking at the glass.

Hands on the wheel, eyes on the dirt road, you can't stop thinking about what happened at your parents' house. Julia said it was a crow, but you're certain it was a Yata-Garasu. To make things worse, a pimple popped up on your nose—another sign?

Abe: O-over there.

You turn into the woods only for the truck, with a jolt, to end up tilted and sinking into a path with deceptive firmness, swallowing it like quicksand. Annabel Lee, the porcelain doll, lifts her gaze from the book on her tiny legs and points forward with her little white hand to say:

Insanity.

Among the shadows of clustered trees, you spot a scarlet egg pulsing like a heart. Abe says it wasn't there before. You try to reverse, but the truck sinks deeper, and you shift your gaze from the egg to the ground, where red grass—actually tendrils—waves, welcoming you. Abe opens the door, but Annabel Lee warns them they must not step onto the Havester's trap.

Abe crawls to the back seats, lifts a boot, and kicks out the rear window. They move to the cargo area and from there make the best leap possible to escape the egg's zone of influence. You know they've succeeded when the earth doesn't devour them.
During your frantic escape, you left the Melanicus and other belongings behind. As you glance back with Annabel Lee under your arm, you watch the vehicle sink and vanish beneath the ground. The last thing you see is the license plate. The egg remains waiting beyond, among the slender tree trunks, patient.

What evil will hatch?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rc-PocF6-9o▾
At the end of March, Abe and you stole a new pickup truck to escape the pandemonium. Amid screams and burning houses, hands reached out trying to stop you, leaving bloody trails across cracked windows—but you never stopped accelerating. On every one of those manic faces chasing you, the mark of a raw, bleeding cross was visible.

Abe, upright in the passenger seat, without his cap or mask, his eyes heavy with dark circles fixed on the road, begins reciting without stumbling:
And thus they recognized the presence of the Red Death.
It had come like a thief in the night.
And one by one the guests fell in the blood-stained orgy halls,
each dying in the desperate posture of their fall.
And the life of the ebony clock died with the last of those joyous beings.
And the flames of the tripods expired.
And darkness, and decay, and the Red Death ruled over all.

The forest pulls you away from the chaos. You drive to a distant cliff from where you can glimpse the town. From within the smoke rises a giant, its hollow head touching the clouds, its tentacles waving shadows capable of stretching across all of Stepford. Abe touches your shoulder to get your attention, then points at the horizon with a trembling finger.

Abe: T-t-the f-f-four h-h-horsemen of the f-f-f-finish.

Black helicopters approach and circle the city, swirling like swarming flies above a fresh corpse. You suspected there were more than four, but just as you were counting, a blinding electric flash blinds you.

The outline of the dome is visible for only a few seconds before it shields itself through transference. The torso separates from the giant, dropping chunks of flesh, but instead of collapsing, it uses its tentacles to lift itself and carefully descend from the dome, while its cyclopean legs remain still and upright inside the dome.

As your mind struggles to process what you’ve seen, several questions come to you:

What will you do with your life? How will you live? Will you tell others what you saw in Stepford?

...

I know it's a bit late. But anon's reply to Abby inspired me to give both of them an epilogue.