[Action A: 457 Stone, locked to housemates]
( And so, he awakens )

[Action B: Around town, in the afternoon!]
[A new face is seen wandering around the streets of Mayfield, wearing the traditional garb of the citizenry. He seems a bit out of place, like many of the new residents of the town, and maybe a bit shell shocked, but also curious.]
I...huh. What the world is this place?
[Talking to oneself probably isn't the best way to really integrate oneself into a new community, though. But, give him a break, he's kind of out of it. He will continue to wander the city unless someone stops him to see what's going on.]

[Action; Hospital]

[Karkat wakes up sometime during the day on January 29th outside the hospital with a violent start that leaves him shaking. It's not unfamiliar to him to wake from a nightmare, but this is different. His last waking memories are unclear, but he remembers knowing he was going to die, losing so much of his sickening blood that it was all he could see, and then he remembers nothing, and nothing, and nothing for so long that if he starts to think about it he feels as though he'll lose his mind. He can't even close his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts because the moment he does, the nothing is back, dark shapes swimming in it black on black but so clearly there, things he can't concentrate on because they're too terrible to acknowledge existence. This isn't unfamiliar either; it's the way he felt when his dreamself died, but so much more of it, and he's really gotten used to sleeping again.

The first thing he does is to try and vomit, because he feels sick and strange and his vascular sac hurts in his chest and he's freezing cold but he isn't shivering, but nothing comes up except the taste of blood and the feeling of it stuck to the back of his mouth and his throat. It's the same quality of the blood in the horrible gash around his middle; the wound is open but the blood is so thick and sluggish it's in no danger of bleeding again, and it draws his attention to his situation.

He's out in the open wearing clothes completely covered in still wet blood, with a large open wound making it clear whose it is, and while he isn't in danger of dying anymore, he doesn't want to be here. Still shuddering, he pulls himself to his feet and wraps his arms around his middle, completely failing to disguise the telling bright red covering most of him, and starts walking as quickly as he can for home, head and eyes facing the ground to avoid speaking to anyone if possible.]

[Action; 1338 Benny Road]

[And he will make it there eventually, but when he does, he'll have an awful surprise waiting for him in his respite block. His own bloodless body would normally be enough to upset him, but it won't even be a concern once he finds Gamzee dead there as well. He knows the idiot clown well enough to have a good idea what happened, what happened being that he completely failed to bother looking after himself or to get anyone to help him with what were obviously treatable injuries. While his grief is somewhat relieved by the fact that he knows the dead will probably come back, he's still completely furious. With himself for letting this happen at all, for being such a legendarily terrible moirail, and with everyone else for not bothering to take care of Gamzee in his absence.

Once he's taken a moment to come to terms with the situation, he'll immediately go looking for anyone else in the house to take that out on.]

[Phone; Public]

[He picks up the phone and speaks with uncharacteristically little preamble; he's too exhausted and sad to come up with reasons to be angry right now, and it's clear from his voice.]

I need everyone to check in with me now. Trolls and...the rest of you who are for some reason or other part of my life. Just do it. Are any of you still alive?

It turns out I've been gone nearly four days, so someone needs to get me up to speed. Please.

[[ phone // unfiltered // morning, after her release ]]

That was a rather terrible place. It was very dirty. And it was fully of dirty, disgusting things.

Just like the rest of this town.

I can not stand by and watch you all. I will not allow myself to do so. Pathetic creatures such as yourselves do not deserve to be on any plane of existence, but I do not have the capabilities to erase you from it. I do have the capability to do other things, though.

[[ action // around town // morning ]]

[[immediately after her phone call, she sets off to do her work. she wanders about, searching for what she wishes to destroy (that is, everything with a pulse, apparently). oh, yeah, and she has a rather large kitchen knife in hand. awesome.]]

( cut for long ooc note. also, warning: violence and death! )

[Action A - Mayfield Hospital, morning of January 29th]

[After a long, terrible day of recovery, Kono wakes to find herself outside the hospital.  For a small, brief moment she wonders if it was all a dream, until she feels her lungs burn and gasps for air, knowing no relief will come from it.  She lies there for a few minutes, the gills on the side of her neck opening and closing rapidly as she gasps.  By now she's used to the sensation of drowning in the air, but it doesn't make it feel any better.  She picks up her arms to look at them, and the white spots have spread.  Some seem to have gotten bigger.

Eventually she will have to pull herself up and start on her way home, but that seems like a lot of effort right now.  Right now she's lying on the sidewalk, staring at the sky, trying to catch her breath enough to sit up and move.  Feel free to check on her.]



[Action B - Between Mayfield Hospital and 463 Stone Street]

[Kono is moving slowly, shuffling her steps to keep her balance as she heads toward home.  Every once in a while she has to stop and lean on something to blink away the dark spots in her vision.  Why is the hospital so far away from the house?  If you stop to see her she'll look somewhere between ready to hit the ground and stubbornly determined to make it to Stone Street.]



[Action C - 463 Stone Street]

[Kono stumbles through the gate and into her backyard.  There's something there that she thinks will give her some relief - a small pond that Hajime had made for her when she was feeling homesick and missing the ocean.

Kono throws herself head-first into the small pond.  It's not deep, but deep enough to submerge herself.  All at once it feels as if her lungs fill with air, and the world stops spinning around her.  She peeks her head out from the water, careful to keep her gills under, and lets out a relieved sigh.

She has no plans to move for quite a while.  Housemates will find her in the yard, as well as passers-by.]

Action; 726 Anderson Lane

[All throughout the night, neighbors and passerby's will likely hear the continuous sounds of digging in the backyard of 726 Anderson Lane. By daybreak, the yard not immediately above the Legion headquarters has been transformed into a small graveyard. Standing vigilant with his shovel, Slugger has finally stopped to rest. Smears of dirt mar his calm, expressionless face. If one looks closely, one might note the subtle crease of resigned anger settled permanently upon his darkened brow.

In the cold and semi-frozen earth beneath his feet lie the bodies of his friends and family. Edward lies here, his question mark cane denoting his grave site, though there is no mystery as to who lies beneath. Beside it is the smaller grave of Luke whom Slugger decided would prefer to rest beside his mentor. Not far from these is the grave of Pokey, Slugger's dearest friend--finally, Pokey was not the one designated to carry the burden of being the last survivor. Susan's grave has been dug as well, situated beside the tree with the swing.

Slugger knows about the experiments Mrs. Johnson is performing on random residents inside the old factory, but he'd rather stay here and fill in the stupid daily crossword puzzle for Edward and Luke or lie on the ground beside his best friend's resting place, his head throbbing, or sit on Susan's swing, his head still throbbing. Just last week he'd confessed his love for the Hell Girl and now he was quickly losing everyone close to him like a terrible nightmare. For every happy moment in Mayfield, there is a price to pay.]

[With old wounds returning, Scout didn't have much of a chance. He's had several deaths here in Mayfield, and escaping things like many old bullet wounds, amongst other things, had be a hard thing to get over when they all returned at once.

But today, Scout wakes up outside the factory, confused and disoriented. Well, maybe he should head home and find out.

Wait, where's home?

Where is *here*?

Seems like the revival process has left Scout with a few holes in his memory... and some leftover injuries. Once upon a time in Westport, Scout saved the life of a young lady from a hazmat man. But that hazmat gave Scout some nasty burns and a lungful of chemicals.

Scout will be out and about on the streets today, finding things to be vaguely familiar. He feels like hell, though, and is moving along slowly, wheezing as he breathes. Maybe he should go to the doctor... if he could remember where that was. If he sees someone, he'll be stopping them.]

Hey, pally. Where the hell's the hospital?

So many wounds opened at once. So many past injuries. Crowe has seen too much violence in his two years in Mayfield, and with all of it happening to him again, he couldn't make it.

A few days ago, when it started, he managed to make it to the hospital. But no one would have heard from him since, until today. He's appeared outside the other "hospital", like so many others, unsure of how he got there. But he knows what happened. He died again. But unlike the other times, he remembers. He remembers nothing but an endless void, not even know where he was, unable to see or hear or feel. Just think. Nothing but desperation and loneliness for what felt like eons.

He was panic-stricken. He couldn't move, or talk. He felt wracked with fear. His chest and back ached where some of his old wounds were, still healing over.

Slowly, shakily, Crowe sinks to the ground, never moving from where he appeared. Anyone else nearby will find him curled against the fence, knees to his chest. He hates himself for feeling like this. Hadn't Ema just said to him the other day about how he's managed to maintain his mind, his resolve? And now here he was, terrified and broken. He felt like a liar and a hypocrite. But he couldn't turn these feelings off.

So there Crowe sits, a huddled ball. He's not going anywhere alone.

[action, all around town]
[She stands atop Makeout Point and looks down at the town, cloak rippling in the breeze as she hefts her sword behind her.  ...Mostly for dramatic effect.  There was something strange happening, as there always was.  Souls were vanishing at an increasing rate, people were dying in droves.  And yet... reappearing.  Sometimes intact.  Sometimes not.  Flickering in and out.  Sluggish.  What in the world did this all mean?

Edward was dead.  Luke was gone.  There was a ticking timer on her own head, she knew, but so long as she was alive, there were things to be done.

A snap of the fingers and she is in the hospital, watching the doctors and nurses, drone and townsperson alike, rushing about treating the steady influx of the injured and the dying.  She broadens her mind and notes the presence of a few patients with some regret.  Perhaps she would drop by to speak with them.

Another snap and she is at the front gates, at the point where the souls reappeared most often.  This was where those who returned from surgery were brought.  ...There was nothing to mark how they managed to get here, and no one could positively identify the location of this 'factory' which Dr. Johnson operated from.

A third snap and she is by the dairy.  ...The door is locked, once again.  She doubted very much if there was anyone inside working on this fabled revival machine.

A snap and she is in Ukraine's house.  Nina's house.  Caesar's house.  Lyon's house.  Ai's house.  Annie's house.  Mart's house.  All those whom she would defend.  She takes stock of those who are missing, those who are dead.  She lingers beside those who still remain alive, wondering if she ought to make herself known.  ...Perhaps she does.  For Susan is certain, as she is certain of all things, that she is making her final rounds.  Remembering the future was a handy trick to have... And there was no future for her past tonight.

A last snap and she is in her Grandfather's house.  She doesn't bother making herself unseen.  Perhaps they are at home.  Perhaps not.]

[action, Makeout Point]
[She is atop Makeout Point again.  The moon is high in the sky and from here, she can see everything.  Every aspect of the world that she has dedicated herself to defending.  She has certainly faced Death before, many times, in more ways than one could possibly imagine.  ...In a jolly red Hogfather suit, for example.  But the thought of finality... Did it really change things all that much?

Death was death.  She had never taken it less than completely seriously.  All the risks she had taken in the past - They were not because she knew death was not the end, but because it was exactly what she would have done even had death been the end.  Susan did not do anything by halves.

She turns away, takes a few steps towards the path back home.

And finds herself abruptly on the ground.

She faces a scraggly weed, her body wracked with so much pain that it is unimaginable.  She had forgotten how it felt.  Not the pain... The humiliation.  The torture of being completely helpless, lying like a worm that could hardly even squirm.  She is grateful only that she cannot actually see her detached limbs.  Her legs, she felt, were almost certainly several feet behind her.  From the moment the injuries had begun recurring on the townspeople, she had expected this to happen.  But it didn't lessen the excruciation any.

She gasps as a fish would gasp for air.  She shudders, shoulders heaving, for she can move nothing else.  Exhale.  Inhale.  Every motion intensified the pain one hundred fold.  What was it he had said?  You have to want release...]   

Slugger... 

[Quickly.  Before anyone else can see.  I'm so sorry to ask this of you...
Slugger...]

[Mayfield - Outside the Hospital - Morning]

[After being unceremoniously dumped outside of the Factory, Luke is left wandering outside Mayfield's Hospital in a state of confusion and bewilderment. Anyone passing by Luke will see him as a young boy, albeit a young boy with a newly acquired surgery scar on his head. But to Luke? Everything, including himself, has aged by ten years. The buildings are run-down and desolate, everyone looks much older,  and the town itself looks like it's on the verge of falling apart. And as for Luke, he wasn't a little boy anymore, but a grown man.

Thanks to Mayfield's surgery, Luke is back. Although now he's hallucinating a grim, future Mayfield.]

...I don't understand. Is this Mayfield? Why...what happened?

[He'll be walking around in a daze for a while as he makes his way back "home". And when he finally gets there...]

[Mayfield - Backyard of 726 Anderson - Afternoon]

[Graves.

Slugger had built them all graves.

Luke forces back a bitter laugh at the sight of it. So, they never really did come back after all? Ten years and here they still were, dead and buried. They never rebuilt the revival machine. No, instead they dragged him out of his grave and decided to revive him instead. Why? It didn't make any sense. What use did he have to them alive?

He sits in front of Edward's grave, looking lost and hurt. It wasn't fair. Why him, of all people?

After a quiet moment, Luke speaks up.]

"A nightmare for some. For others, as a savior I come. My hands, cold and bleak, it's the warm hearts they seek. What I am?"

...Rest in peace, Edward and Susan. I'm sorry I wasn't able to do anything in the end.

[And much later, Luke will make a phone call. A very, very unusual phone call.]

[Phone.]

Ten years. Ten years. Have you all really grown so satisfied with this miserable place that not one of you tried to escape? Find any clues? Try to seize this town from its controllers? Are you really that happy with them treating you like cattle? Oh, sorry not cattle. Lab rats. That's what we really are here.

Did none of you prats even try to find out clues about this place? No one tried to fix the revival machine? No, you didn't. You all sat around while this place fell apart. If that's the case, then you deserve whatever this place decides to do with you. I, on the other hand, fully intend to solve this puzzle even if it's the last thing I do.

[And with that, he slams down the phone.]

[Around Mayfield - Over the next few days.]

[And Luke sets off around Mayfield trying to gather information from anywhere he can possibly find, patrolling the streets of Mayfield each day in order to find clues. But as each day passes, Luke's mental state begins to rapidly decline. Each day he grows a little more jumpy, a little more hostile and bitter to people that greet him. Every sound, every movement catches his attention and causes him to look over his shoulder for some kind of threat that isn't there.

Something's wrong, something's wrong, something's wrong.]

[ooc: Luke may possibly attack your character if you pick the last option.]

[Phone]

[The voice on the other end sounds rather faint at first, then louder, then faint again, as if they keep moving the phone closer and further away from their head - or vice versa]

Okay, now press the- not that, the other one, the... come on, you can shoot a cue, you can dial a phone, it's not that- look, nevermind, just set it here, I don't even care.

[There's a clunking noise, like the phone hit glass almost, and the volume steadies]

Slick, Deuce, what's up on your end? I'm in... a situation.

[Action A; 463 Stone Street]

[That sure is Droog's body sitting at the kitchen table. And that sure is Droog's head in a jar. And that sure is his face mashed up against one side of the glass in the most undignified manner as his hands clumsily jam the filter end of a lit cigarette against the other.

Unsurprisingly, it's not working. He knows it's not working. But he's still trying. Addiction is a powerful thing.]

[Action B; outside 463 Stone Street]

[You probably notice the headless body in a dapper suit wandering around like a chicken with its head cut off an idiot, waving its hands about likes it's trying to feel around for something. You probably next notice the head in a jar lying on its side on the lawn, the irritated face of a very angry mobster clearly visible and, the reason you noticed it, its voice clearly audible.]

No, to your left... other left, come on. Over here, come on, closer, closer... no, that's towards the house, I'm over- damnit, this should not be this much trouble.

[Action C; Grocery Store]

[It's while browsing the aisles, looking through the various labels and brands that suddenly you find yourself face to face with another person. Not because you reached the end of the aisle, but because there is a head in a jar just sitting on the shelf, glaring angrily at you.]

Yeah, what are you looking at?

[Action D; Some street on some hill or even slight incline]

OH MY GOD DAMNIT HOW DID YOU EVEN-

[A string of curses doppler's past you, or perhaps it coming straight towards you, or whatever. The point is, it's headed downhill, and if you bother to look, you can clearly see some kind of jar rolling down the street and a man in a suit chasing frantically after it. Only the man doesn't have a head, and the cursing seems to be coming from the jar]

-GODDAMN LOUSY STUPID BODY, CAN'T EVEN RUN FASTER THAN A HEAD WITHOUT LEGS, LUCKY THE GLASS DIDN'T-

[Perhaps you could go stop the jar for him, since he's obviously having trouble catching up with it. Or perhaps you could do the wise thing and pretend you didn't see and go about your day.]