[CLOSED to 748 Partridge Drive]

[Hiling wakes up at the usual time and heads downstairs for breakfast in her nightgown. She notices a pain in her abdomen, but shrugs it off as hunger or perhaps a cramp from sleeping in an odd position. Opening the refrigerator, she peers at its contents for longer than usual. The pain is starting to become distracting and she holds her stomach as she reaches her other hand out to the counter. When she looks at her hand, to her surprise, there's blood. Her front is spotted red. She gasps and backs up into whoever else might be in the kitchen at the time.]

What's going on?!

[Phone.]

Okay, so we broke a machine. Big deal! Sure, it was the only thing that was letting us come back to life, but uh...we can totally fix something like that, right?

Well okay, maybe not. But hey, no different then how it works everywhere else am I right? The important thing is...

...is to...

...what was I talking about again? Huh. So um, Rarity? Applejack? Princess? Are you still all right? And Pinkie Pie, for once don't do anything too crazy-

[Rainbow Dash trails off. Wait, wasn't Pinkie Pie droned? ...She was, wasn't she.]

N-nevermind, I'll just come check on you guys, all right? I...I gotta go...

[As she hangs up, she feels something wet between her eyes. As she goes to rub her face, she quickly realizes its covered in blood. Looks like a certain gunshot to the face is coming back to haunt her.]

[Around Mayfield.]

[As she said, Rainbow Dash is going around and checking on her friends. Her face, despite her best efforts to keep the bleeding under control, is still stained with blood. And worse, as she makes her way around town she keeps stumbling around, crashing into things, and keeps losing her balance.

Every time she falls, she's finding it harder and harder to get back up.]

[Phone]

I have heard there is injured. Beyond what the hospital can manage, in fact. You have no reason to trust me, but I am...

I feel that I need to do something.

I can hardly say that I am trained to human standards, but I can build and install robotic limbs without complications. If you speak to any of the trolls, they can confirm this.

With the technology available to me here, they will not be as sophisticated as I would like, but I can promise you, they will be the best quality prostheses I can produce. For anyone who requires them.

[Action]
[Equius can be found sitting on the floor in the lobby of the hospital, parts and partially finished limbs taking up space on the chairs, and the area around him. The dark circles under his eyes seem deeper than normal, and his hands shake a bit, but he just keeps on working, ignoring the occasional efforts of drone nurses to move him.]

[Phone]

[Those who have met Haku already may or may not recognize his voice. It is much more serious, low and clipped and militaristic, than he normally speaks, and it's pitched somewhat deeper, more obviously masculine. This is the srs bsns voice.]

I don't have my normal abilities right now, but my medical training still holds. Anyone who needs assistance, please come to 1646 Albright, or call and I will come to you. I'm no doctor, not really, but I have some training and I want to help.

I may not know much about this place yet, but if people are being hurt, I won't just stand aside.

[ Phone; Early Morning ]

I need to get a hold of anyone who has any kind of medical experience. With that revival... whatever machine broken, I think it's best we start making some kind of plan in the case something insane happens.

You don't have to respond, just meet me at 1671 Beaver Street at 7PM. If you work at the hospital, meet there during the day.

[ Mayfield Hospital; Miday-Early Evening ]

[ Option 1; Daily Clinic Hours (Open to All) ]

[ Things seem to be running business as usual. Dan is just going about his usual clinic hours. Feel free to walk into his office if you need medical attention or just want to pester the doctor. He will be with you in just a few short moments. ]

Hey there, I'm Dr. Cain. What can I do for you today?

[ Option 2; Afternoon Lunchbreak (Open to Hospital Staff) ]

[ Dan doesn't seem to have much of an appetite. All he has in front of him in the break room is a small cup of coffee. In the back of his mind, he knew he should eat something but he just... couldn't. There's just something that has him in deep thought. ]

...

[ Option 3; Afternoon at the Lobby (Open to All) ]

[ If you're looking for him after his lunch break, he is currently looking at the hospital directory.

He mummers:] We never needed a morgue...

[ 1671 Beaver Street ]

[ There isn't a whole lot happening back at home. Just... quiet as usual. Really not his idea of a "sweet happy home". But feel free to give the door a good knock if you came to see him. He is just back in the kitchen, making some kind of h'orderves. ]

[Phone]

To whomever destroyed the machine in the Dairy, I'd like to say this:

Investigate before blowing things up like an idiot. You'd have saved everyone a lot of trouble.

[Yeah, she mad. The creeping headache that she's had since coming out of her droning isn't helping her mood.]


[Action A: around town]

[As the day goes on, her headache is accompanied by an ache in her chest that almost resembles a heart attack. Erring on the side of caution--there's no respawn, after all--she decides to go to the hospital and get it checked out.

All tests come back negative, and the doctors laugh her out the door. "Silly, hysterical woman!" they say. "Maybe you've been working with patients for too long, you're beginning to think you're catching things from them!" Never mind that she knows cardiovascular disease isn't contagious.

So, angrier than she was in the morning, she's talking a walk to let off some steam. And munching. So much munching.

If you get too close, even by accident, she's throwing one of her snacks at you.]


[Action B: 726 Anderson Lane, closed to questionauthority]

[Ema's head and chest pains aren't getting any better, so she's decided to hide out with her boyfriend for awhile. Maybe if she gets some rest, she'll be able to kick the pain and feel like a human being.

Although a big part of her doubts it. Really, what she wants right now is to not be alone--needing peace and quiet is just an excuse.

Knock knock.]

((OOC: No more replies to the Action portion, please.  Trying to keep things straight.))

[Phone]

...Is everypony all right? I heard about what happened at the dairy, and it sounds like we'll have to be more careful than ever.

[There's a sharp 'HURK' noise at this point in Rarity's call - the sound of an unexpected wince.]

W-well, I should be getting back to the studio now. A designer's work is never done!

[She hastily hangs up the phone.]

( Action - cut for gore. Will only be replying to first responder. )

A:) action; 1650 Albright Lane.

[there's a harsh knocking at the door a short while after the Dairy's break-in and the revival machine's destruction.]

Esther--! Open up; it's Abel! It's-- urgent, please come to the door!

B:) action; open around town.

[if you happen to be one Cain Knightlord, His Holiness, or Rachel Alucard, you might notice that Abel is hunting you down. if you aren't, then you're treated to the sight of one priest on the prowl for his little brother, the God damn Pope, and Abel's not!daughter. he's decided with the revival machine down, it might be a good time to make sure neither of you get yourself into any trouble...

maybe he runs into you, since it doesn't seem like he's paying much attention to where he's walking in the rush! maybe you're simply a kindly soul who wants to stop the priest running through the streets and ask what he's looking for. ...or maybe you just want to stick your foot out and trip him. who knows. whatever the case, he seems to be a little frazzled and jogging along intently, doesn't he? man on a mission, Mayfield.]

C:) open phone.

[he clears his throat before speaking a tad tentatively down the phone line. there's concern and wariness in his voice... the usually jovial and obnoxious priest has sobered up today.]

I know... that there are some of us, here, who are familiar with machinery and technology. [a small pause.] The kind advanced far past Mayfield's standard for the era.

Some of you might be against the idea, but-- at this point, we're running out of time and alternatives. Maybe it's time anyone with any potential to lend them some help fixing the machine in the Dairy, do so. We might be turned away, but it's worth a shot... and we have to do something, or more and more people are going to end up--

[...]

[a slightly strained exhale. he's getting himself together. he does not want to see any more innocent lives senselessly taken... especially to this hellhole.]

It is worth the shot, isn't it...? ...It has to be. We have to... try.

[ooc: as a little note, to the kind anon from last week (you know who you are!!) -- thank you so much. you put the biggest smile on my face. :) i'm really grateful /throws mushy hearts at...]

Well, I was going to berate the morons that broke the machine in the diary, but I suppose we've got bigger things to worry about. Except for the fact that I honestly hope that you avoid ever doing that again. Actually, I hope you stay the hell away from anything that looks important. Who goes up to a big important looking machine and thinks "blimey this looks important, I think I'll blow it up without even thinking about what it does!".

...And I've only done that once. And everything was being filled with a chokey gas so I was short on ti-

Anyway! I'm sure you've heard the phonecall and if you haven't well... long story short, more nasty stuff in store.

As for now... seems like there's been some... strange side effects happening. Just from what I've heard. Seems like since the revival machine went all explodey-wodey, injuries from previous deaths have been reappearing. As though they've got nowhere to now that the machine is gone and are rebounding back to us.

If there are any healers about, look out for anyone injuried as you go about. If you do get injuried, grab a phone and call Martha Jones or Rory Pond. Both brilliant doctors, the real kind, and... well, I suppose Rory is a nurse. But they'll be able to patch you up.

In the meantime, let's try not to die, shall we? The town needs us up and about for some reason and I'm not keen on finding out why.

[Action; around town.]

[The Doctor is walking around town, per usual, checking on anyone he knows. He's crossing the street when suddenly he stumbles, choking as a pain rips through his torso. He retches, and blood splatters the concrete. He gasps wrapping his arms around his stomach before quickly pulling away. The front of his jacket is covered in blood. He stands there, hunched over, and unable to move.

Dammit.]

[Action; 1338 Benny Road]

[The Doctor is slumped against the console of the TARDIS. A trail of blood leads the way from the front door to the open doors of the TARDIS. He's lost too much blood, a new injury has appeared on his leg, making it harder to escape into the depths of the TARDIS. He knows where these injuries are from; that fateful Christmas, a topic he definitely would like to forever avoid.

A few hours later he's nowhere to be seen.

[PHONE – UNFILTERED]

Well, well. You’ve got quite a lot to answer for, haven’t you, Mayfield? But what?!

What is it that you have to answer?
But to answer, you have to ask?
And to ask you have to speak?
And to speak, you have to know
The answer…!

[Should he speak any faster, Edward Nigma might start tripping over his own tongue-twisters. His voice is shaking, and from the sound of it? The way he’s fumbling with the phone in his hands makes it clear that he’s shaking too. He sounds exhausted, both physically and mentally. Enraged. Anguished. Wounded. Definitely unstable.]

What? What’s that, Mister Mayor? You haven’t got an answer for this? For these---these old wounds? Is death your final answer for all of us?

[He laughs. It’s a deranged, unhinged sound, furious and terrifying yet slightly pathetic at the same time.]

Guess again. You and your incompetent Chief of Police, and your---your---whoever the hell that woman on the phone with you was. Guess again.

Riddle me this, morons. "What… is the poorest bank in the world?" Hmm? [A beat.] I’ll give you a hint: It’s not a riverbank.

Still no answer? Pity. Because if... If I don’t have an answer from you by midnight, if you’re stupid enough not to have that damned machine of yours fixed by the end of the day and if you don’t bring her back---[Steady, Edward. Steady.]---and put everything back to the way it was before… then you’ll learn just how dangerous I can truly be. You will learn that I am not to be underestimated any longer. And by the end of the night, you'll get the message. You'll get it through that thick head of yours, even if I have to---even if I have to break it apart myself. You will know, Mister Mayor… that the Riddler… is better than you.

Don’t keep me waiting.

[ACTION - 726 ANDERSON LANE - AFTERNOON

Hearing how awful the Riddler is on the phone is one thing. Seeing how awful he's becoming is another thing entirely. Between Ema's death yesterday and his phone call today? He's gotten a hell of a lot worse. There are two distinctive wounds on his face---one on his temple, the other dead center on his forehead---and if you look carefully enough you can see the beginnings of what appears to be a very small dent growing in the back of his head.

After his little address to the town, there are a few things Eddie's got to try and take care of.

He's in the bathroom at one point, unraveling a roll of bandages and wrapping it around his head just above his eyebrows before shielding his bandaged skull beneath his hat.

He's in the bedroom for another moment, emerging in a tight green bodysuit littered with question marks with a heavy green trenchcoat resting over his broad shoulders.

He's in his study soon after that, filing frantically through index cards with handwritten instructions.

And finally, he's in the garage, loading up the trunk of the Riddler-Mobile and preparing himself for a long overdue business trip to...

ACTION - MAYFIELD BANK - EARLY EVENING

Because what better a way to get the Mayor's attention than a good ol' fashioned bank job? The frightened drones are loading up massive tote bags with cash, but the money's immaterial. Hostages are Edward's currency right now, drones in particular, and with enough hostages? The Mayor's bound to budge. He's bound to fix everything, right? ...right?]

What's. Taking. So. Long? [He paces around the bank in frustration, a loaded machine pistol hanging loosely from his fingers.] Where is he? Where? Where?

[Are you one of the Riddler's fellow partners-in-crime? A hostage who got caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or are you one of those noble do-gooders, here to try and save the day? Whoever you are, it's getting easier to tell that Eddie's condition is continuing in a steady decline. He's jumpy. He's twitchy. And his mind, what should be his most powerful weapon, is turning against him. What will you do?]

((OOC: The bank heist will come to an end eventually, but it will be at strike_you_out's hands. Please bear that in mind before responding! Thank you!))

 I - [phone, evening]

[She'd held off long enough. The last time she'd made a call was her first day in the town, three or so months ago. She didn't like using the phone lines in general, and she certainly didn't like appearing weak. 

But it was getting serious.

From the November event, she remembers getting dragged off by the cannibals after attempting to divert attention from Sakura, from the person she cared the most about in the world...and it had worked, but at a price. She'd been killed. Eaten. Ripped apart and eaten while still partially conscious. 

Part of her wondered if that was how her sisters' suitors felt when she came upon them with daggers and teeth, so many years back. 

It was a sensitive subject, to say the least.]

Pardon. [Her voice sounds the same as usual, but there's an odd almost squishy sound, as though she's got water or something in the back of her throat.] I seem to have been revisited by the wounds I received last November, much like others I have heard today.

[She coughs, painfully, and the watery sound in her voice only increases.] If anyone is aware of a method of binding severe cuts and gouges, please inform me. I would appreciate the [hack-hack-cough] advice.

II - [around town - near midnight]

[Sometime only a smidgeon near mightnight, Rider starts wandering around. It didn't feel good to lie in her bed and wallow in pain. She'd felt worse before (granted, she'd had her divinity-embellished body and Servant status), so it was no excuse to mope.

Except she only seems to be making herself feel worse. 

Anywhere around the town, you can see Rider a) kind of staggering around, blood dripping from her coat sleeves, but generally keeping her composure, 2) half doubled-over on the ground, the bleeding apparently getting worse, 3) flat-out lying in the snow. Blood. Everywhere, man. I WARNED YOU ABOUT THEM CANNIBALS, BRO.]

[You wake up strapped to a gurney.

You are fastened tight by leather straps holding down each of your limbs. Even the strongest among you, despite regains or magic, will find it impossible to break free. Whether you are human, animal, or other, and regardless of your size, big or small, you are bound tight. A bright light shines in your eyes. You're not given much time to register your surroundings.

The woman standing before you is strangely familiar. You've probably seen her around town before- Mrs. Johnson, the flirty woman known to pop up now and then. Her red hair and striking smile, along with her strangely flirtatious attitude, have always seemed to mark her as a bit of an anomaly when it comes to the many drone women of Mayfield- the adult men among you that have encountered her before might have noticed that she's just a little bit... undronelike. That there's always been a little something too realistic, too conscious about her.

Right now, she's not wearing the well-pressed dress and neat heels of her normal attire. She's dressed in scrubs. Behind her stand a few other drones, each of them similarly attired, surgical masks over their faces. Mrs. Johnson smiles at you. She lifts a scalpel in one hand.

You are in a surgery room.

When Mrs. Johnson speaks, she sounds nothing like a drone. Her voice is calm and smooth and self-assured and very much undronelike.]

Hello, there. Have we met? You may call me Doctor Johnson. I'll be operating on you today. Just a few improvements. I'm a busy woman and there's plenty more on the schedule today, so do make this easy on me, will you?

I might be trying out a few experimental procedures. I see that you've signed the waiver here.

[She holds up a clipboard with a medical permissions form on it; your signature is there, perfectly forged. Of course, you don't remember writing it, because you never did.]

Don't worry about a thing. You're in good hands. [Dr. Johnson leans over you, smiling, and focuses the overhead light in your eyes, momentarily blinding you.] Nothing like a woman's touch to set things straight.

[One of the nurse drones wheels a cart over.]

Time to begin the operation.

[ooc; don't reply to this post. Please see the information post for more details.]