Was she really hearing this? Were they serious? Clearly she had misheard them.

"I'm sorry, i thought I just heard you suggest we go check on a cat instead of a person..."

She stared, blinking, and cut off any response. "Okay, yeah, maybe my father's already been eaten by one of those freaky people-things, or maybe he is one, but a cat? Come on people! Who's to say, and I am sorry to have to be the voice of fricken reason here, but who's to say your cat's even alive?"

Eyes dark, she glared back at each face, each stranger, and felt the venom build within her. It was madness, that's what it was, she told herself, and they were all mad. But she didn't wan't to be alone. Cindi wouldn't stay, she knew that much, and that Delilah chick wasn't letting go of the guy any time soon.

Hank had to reason with him.

"Chris, please, let's look at this another way. You came running from that direction. So there's something back there, in the dark, that you are trying to get away from. But my house is right around the corner. We can load up on supplies, grab something to eat, get some rest, and then after we're prepared we can check on the cat and search the Inn. Think about it Chris. What self-respecting public servant would put the safety of a cat over the safety of the people?"

She looked into his eyes, searching for signs of common sense, some small flicker of understanding.

"...Think about it Chris. What self-respecting public servant would put the safety of a cat over the safety of the people?"

A searing headache washed over Chris for a moment, the intensity strong enough to make him almost lose the grip on his 'club' before countering the weakness witha clench that turned his knuckles white.

a flash of imagery swept across hism ind's eye. there was red and blue lights flashing in a swirling arc across the canvas of his mental recollection, and a whirling siren blaring ever so loud. There was a face, a dark skinned man in a similar vest to his own smiling and laughing over the powdered donut which oozed some thick red gel from a hole in the side. Then another flash, and that same dark handsome face was lying torn asunder on a gurney being rushed away from him, the barrel of a police issued baretta 9 still smoking on the cold concrete in font of him as a swarm of voices and accusing words bombarded him. A third flash, and the glints of gold and silver are seen sliding across an oak desk to a balding man on the other side, who shakes his head solemnly as the world fades to black. The last image Chris see's is the "Welcome to Silent Hill" sign at the edge of town, beconing him home.
Chris shakes the pain away and takes a look at Hank, Cindi, then Delilah.

"I..I don't know what I was thinking Sorry, got this awful headache there all of a sudden. Cindi, Hank's right, if there's a chance for another peson to be alive out there, we've got to... I've got to chance looking for them, just like you do your cat. Meera is small, agile if anyone has a chance of staying out of the grasp of one of those shambling creatures it's her, I'd dare say I'm envious I'm not one of her feline friends myself at the moment. I know you've got to check up on her, I understand your worry but be reasonable, let us go and collect our bearings and some possible supplies and then we'll return for Meera I promise."

Chris scratched the back of his head a moment thinking some more before speaking. "Besides, I'm curious about this darkness, flute inspired or not. Have you tried playing it again to see if it can reverse whatever this is? And if the answer's no, I'd prefer to be somewhere a bit safer than the middle of a street before you try and put the theory to use, just in case it goes from worse too, well, whatever comes after that."

Cindi's eyes widen with surprise, "You didn't say anything about your father BEING there! All you said was he WAS there, so I assumed you meant he..."

Cindi shakes her head, feeling calmer, reassured by Chris's reasoning, "OK, I'm sorry. I'll go when you're ready."

Cindi nods to the others, "Yes, I have tried playing the flute again, and I think I've tried every note, but nothing's changed."

Cindi pulls out the item in question, the solid metal flute. "The strange thing is it was made out of tune, yet I still have it... I don't even know why I have it."

They travel in packs, humans do, clutching to the vestiges of civilization to keep themselves from becoming mindless, thoughtless savages. They move together through ages and darkness and the rise and fall of empires, little more than animals even as progress forces societal evolution.

The survivors in Silent Hill are no different. As one they move through the darkness, alert to the howling and the sounds of the machina that seems to come from beneath. They move down Neely to the corner of Katz and stop for a moment. Hank leans against a streetlight and tried to focus, but there is a fog inside of her, like thick webs in her lungs and her mind. She checks the wound, afraid it might be infected, but it appears normal. Clearly, she tells herself, its all in her mind.

Delilah watches Cindi, heartbroken that they can not all be two places at once, so both women can find some measure of peace. She feels, as they all do, something pulling them, leading them. Delilah tries to tell Chris, but falls silent, unsure of what the others would say.

Chris notices Hank's worsening condition, but takes no action. Though worrried, he allows time to see what and how things develop, and after a few moments of rest, they push on down Katz, but Cindi stops short as the pass Martin Street.

She has stubbed her toe on a large stone object. Crouching beside it, she brushes off layers of dirt, to reveal a fragment of a headstone, pocked and pitted by the elements and time. There are only three letters on the fragment - TON.

Cindi nearly stumbles upon colliding her toe with a stone thing in the way. Only her familiarity with high heels prevents her from falling. Cindi winces at the impact, feeling the pain move up her foot, making it difficult to stand. She crouches down, to lessen the pressure, when the object in question catches her eye.

A tombstone. No, it's only a piece. -ton? or Ton-? or -ton-? And what's this doing all the way over here? Cindi wonders.

Wait... what was the chance that... no, it couldn't be, and even if it was, it wouldn't do any good to voice her suspicion to the group. It would be unnerving, unsettling at the very least, and it isn't even a for-sure thing. No, it would be better if she just remembers this for now; without the rest of the stone, there were many possibilities, and it would do no good if the group were to assume anything just based on coincidence... and yet...

There is no such thing as coincidence. Cindi thinks to herself. She briefly reaches into a side pocket in her backpack, and pulls out that card, the White card. No, there were no coincidences.

Putting the card away, Cindi gets up and jogs a bit faster to catch up with the others. Hank didn't look too well. That too can't be a coincidence.

"Hank? Are you alright?" Cindi asks, thinking about the wound she had bandaged earlier, as well as the thing that inflicted it.

I should check for disinfectant in that first aid kit. Cindi thinks, But... would that be enough? Cindi pulls out the kit, looking for a vial of hydrogen peroxide or some other disinfectant.

There was a foul chill in the air as they made their way through the dark streets. Goosebumps rose on her arms and the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end. Her eyes darted from one shadow to the next, on the watch for anything unpleasant, but she couldn't see anything. When Cindi hit the rock, she turned.

"Cindi? Are you oka-" She paused, staring at the rock. The shape of it was universally known, a section of headstone. But this piece had only three letters on it, and she was willing to bt they belonged to the last name. Which meant it could belong to anyone. And it could belong to someone. Someone like Hank Preston, who wasn't looking very healthy. But she could still walk on her own, whereas Cindi looked like she had broken her foot. She walked back to the rock and crouched beside it.

She hoped he bag was strong enough. Unfortunately, it took up most of the leftover room, and Was a little heavy. She smiled sheepishly and stood, adjusting the strap and the weight of it on her shoulder.

"Weapon," she simply said.

She caught up to Cind and put the girls arm over her shoulder, to allow Cindi to use her as a crutch. The foot was probably broken.

"I'm sure Meera's okay," she offered as they walked. "In fact, cats are notoriously self sufficient. And maybe we might even find some answers at Hank's place."

Delilah cast a furtive glance at the woman in biker blacks. "She isn't looking too well, but she doesn't seem all that concerned about it. I'd stay a pace or two from her though, in case she spontaneously combusts."

"Hey, what do you think about this headstone? Kind of wierd that it's out here in the street instead of, you know, where it belongs."

Chris moved with Hank and the other's towards her domecile when Cindi abruptly came to a halt, her toes impacting with an unmoving object. After some grimaces of pain and careful observation, the letters ton were revealed on the section of the headstone and everyone's minds began to race a to the implications of the meaning.
(Are the letter's on the right side of the piece of headstone? indicitive of a last name?)

As Delilah left Chris to aid Cindi in her walking, (broken foot or not I'l take it she at least goes to make sure she's ok)Chris moves closer to Hank, ofering a supplicating and concerned smile. "When we make it to your place you'll have to let me take a look at your wound, if only to patch it up to prevent further exposure to possible infection. I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure there's some basic first aid skills at least locked up in this blender of jarbled memories in here;" he said tapping his forehead.

Trying to keep Hank's mind off the pain he tries to strike up a conversation with the woman as they move. "Hank doesn't strike me as much the girl's name, did your parent's originally want a boy and just didn't think to change the name?" He wasn't sure if she'd remember anything along those lines, but if she had remembered her grandfather and the flower shop, there was a possibility exploring more avenues of her family would reveal something, and at this point anything would be better than nothing.

Hank raises her head, smiling distractedly. "Oh, that. It's Henrietta, actually. Henreitta Preston. But I've always been Hank, I guess."

She rallies her strength and they continue moving. Delilah lets Cindi go and brings up the rear. They reach the Flower shop with no incidents, and can hear voices from inside. Chris cautions all to stay outside.

Seeing nothing of not in the front room he proceedes to the back hall, and finds two men sitting at a table in an office/breakroom. Chris calls them all in.

As The women follow the walkway, the darkness dissolves. It is daylight again, and Cindi catched the body of a creeper from the corner of her eye. Turning her head, she watches as a shaft of sunlight, filters though a patch of fog, to fall on the creature. At the touch of sun, the thing falls to the gound, inanimate. Soft thuds echo in the town and blessedly, the sound of the machines under the town stop.


The silence is deafening.


Delilah stares, wideeyed, but says nothing. Hank, however, has made a dramatic improvement. She sppears completely fine. Color has returned to her face, and she no longer looks like death on toast.

The women join the men in the room in the back.

Cindi watches the darkness fade with a fascination akin to that of a fox watching a potential predator/prey. Likewise, she watches the collapse of the creeper.

Interesting. Cindi thinks, Was the darkness to keep us in, or to just keep the light out? Probably both.
Turning back towards the others and walking along the hallway, Cindi isn't all that surprised that Hank had improved. That could mean a number of things... hmm, if only her knowledge was a bit more than what she had. Cindi doesn't even know if her past knowledge that she lost would cover this sort of incidence, unless she was some sort of medical person, but that just seems a bit unlikely.

Cindi thinks back to the photograph Chris showed, and immediately questions popped back into her head. Why was she grinning? Why did she, assuming it was she, do that to the tombstones? Was it to cut herself off from a past? Or was it out of spite or malice? What did she do in her spare time anyway? There are far too many questions, and too few answers, and yet, Cindi isn't quite sure she actually wants those answers. No, whatever my past is, I must know, even if it pains me, and even if it destroys me. Cindi resolves, Given a blank slate with no memories, people can change, but, when that slate is dusted to reveal what lies underneath, can they still change?
Inside, unbidden, she finds an answering question, If that's what let me survive up to now, why would I want to?
Cindi's lips curve and form a small, sly smile.

Jonah turned from Josh as the new arrivals entered the room.

"You certainly took your sweet time getting here," he said, but he tried to put on a reassuring smile as he said it, in an attempt to let them know he was joking. He was sorely afraid, however, that it came out as a desperate and unbecoming grimace of one who has gone mad. Not far from the truth, really.

"Hello Chris, Cindi, Delilah, and Henrietta." He tossed a wink at Hank. "Yes, yes, I know, it's Hank, but that's so unbecoming for such a pretty girl. Welcome, one and all, to the quaint little flower shop that madness built."

He gestured to other chairs that littered the room.

"Please, please, have a seat. We're safe here...for now."

"My name is Jonah Hawke. And as you can see, I know who you are. But as I was telling my ever-so-talkative friend here," he said, pointing at the still silent and brooding Josh, "I have no idea why I know you. And before you go on with the 'What's happening?' and the 'Why has this happened?', I'll go ahead and tell you that I don't know much more than you. The last thing I knew, I was at my job. I'm an important man, you know," he said with a slightly crazed chuckle. "Why, I'm...or was...the Chief of...well, let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"First things first. Let's get acquainted a bit."

He handed the bottle of whiskey to Hank. "Ladies first, my dear Henrietta. Have a nip and pass it around...helps take the edge off. I'd pour it in glasses, but, as you can see," he said, gesturing around him to the room, "I'm not properly set up for entertaining."

He gave another brief chuckle and then looked at them all gravely, one by one in turn.

"For now, know this: We're safe here. I don't know for how long, but we're safe here for now. If you want to stay that way, remain at this shop. Anybody have trouble understanding that? Do. Not. Leave. This. Shop. Period."

In a sudden flash of movement, he whipped out the deck of cards and slammed them on the table with a hollow crash...the sound of a tomb slamming shut.

"So! Who's up for some poker?"

There was more in this room than people, Delilah realized, and after casing the room she came to stop in front of the row of lockers. Strange, sh thought, how they had their initials. Maybe a bit of their past was in there? Maybe something that would make this all make sense? No, that was probably too much to ask for.

She tried not to look shocked that there were people here. She tried to look brave, but she was getting exponentially more freaked out as time went on. Hank seemed fine now when moment ago the poor woman looked like death on toast. And this man, the scarred man in black offering them a drink, was... was what? Chief of something. police? Chief of the Fire Department? or maybe the Chief Financial or Executive officer of something?

With her head swimming, dhe grabbed a chair and turned it round, sitting in it wrongways, arms resting onthe back.

"Poker sounds fine," Delilah. "All things considered, but we're going to play for answers. If any of us win, you tell us just who you really are and what you're doing here. Now. Are you ready?"

It was the first thing she'd done since waking up in this place that made her feel in control, and a sick small part of her brain registered that she really, really, really liked being in control.

Cindi declines the drink and card game politely, "I'm sorry; I find that I think better without alchohol, and I personally don't gamble."

Cindi's foxlike face is passive, a fine poker face, and even as she watches the others she continues to think, and build the puzzle to which she only has a few pieces.

Inside, she had her own suspicions. Chief can only refer to so many social occupations, and all of them have to do with the government. If that's the case... then he'd know our names from that occupation. Cindi thinks back to her photograph. A deviant. Yes, probably what some would say is 'against the law'... After another moment of thinking, Cindi thinks, The puzzle is so much clearer when little pieces come together in clumps. You didn't say much, but you already said enough.
Stay in this shop? I wonder, exactly how safe can it be, and why? Hmm... with the darkness gone, that means Meera will definitely be alright, and if that is only the case while we remain here, I'll stay here a while then. However, does this mean I can practice my music here without harm, and maybe figure out how to play the flute in tune? Cards... where are the other cards to my single one, and what are these ones used for? Cindi thinks of all her questions, and then remembers the notebook she picked up earlier.

She opens her backpack and pulls it out. If they indeed had time here, she might as well use it to read this.

He didn’t know who this man was, but it disturbed him that he knew his name. Infact there were several things that disturbed him at this moment. Not least of which was the fact that he was sitting in an unworldly village of which he had no knowledge, with no memory of his own life…save one.

The man set the bottle of whiskey on the table and slid it towards Josh, who let his pale, blue green eyes fall on it before looking back to the book. He was in no mood to drink. He was also not in the mood to talk, or to listen to someone else talk. Nomatter, the situation being as it was, he didn’t have much choice.

"So...I reiterate my previous questions. For the love of God, tell me you have some answers."

Josh looked up at the man and studied him for a moment, before saying simply

“No.”



It was then that suddenly a group of strangers arrived in the room. Josh looked up but didn’t speak. He didn’t know them, but it seemed this “Jonah” fellow did.

To those entering the room, Josh appeared a tall man with hard, toned muscles and broad shoulders. His black hair was pulled into a long braid that fell down his back, and a pointed black goatee hung from his sharply featured face. He studied each person as they entered, and his eyes were a pale blue green. He was dressed as if he was a member of some Scandinavian Death metal band. His black shirt was adorned with a massive inverted pentagram, within was an inverted cross, and his pants were military fatigues. His entire forarms were covered in Nordic knot work tattoos. If there were any answers that his appearance could grant to their being here…it was that they had probably not all come to Silent Hill as a group.

Turning back to his book, he picked up the newspaper clipping and put it in his pocket, and then began to listen to the introductions….which…didn’t come. Whoever these people were, they apparently didn’t feel like introducing themselves, and as Jonah revealed a deck of cards, and offered up a game of poker.

"Poker sounds fine," Spoke one of the newly arrived women. "All things considered, but we're going to play for answers. If any of us win, you tell us just who you really are and what you're doing here. Now. Are you ready?"


Raising an eyebrow, Josh glanced at her, then back at Jonah before saying simply

“Count me out.”

"Oh, before it slips my mind again..." Cindi says, putting the notebook down for a moment, "Are either of you two injured? I did find a first-aid kit earlier..."

She looks between the two men, but it appeared they were fine.

"Alright, just making sure." Cindi says, picking up the notebook again, "You might know my name," she indicates towards Jonah, "But you're not doing very well introducing everyone, so I'll introduce myself. I'm Cindi Lawran. Cindi is spelt with an 'i' rather than a 'y' at the end."

After speaking, Cindi returns to reading the notebook, appearing to ignore the poker game that may or may not occur.

Chris stood there trying to determine just where he knew Jonah from, for the man certainly seemed to know him. Chief of something, if it were police then he'd be his superior it would seem, but the man didn't greet him with the sort of customary introduction of men who worked together, or shared a common allegiance to upholding the law.

Especially a drunk who delved into gambling while they were stil all very much nto the s***mix.

Chris let his eyes fall about the room even as Jonah flopped a deck out and offered a game of poker. Chris was already scanning the lockers and noticing, as Delilah did, the similiarity of initials in respect to those gathered.

"I'll pass on the card games, but I would like to take a look in these, unless you know something else you'd care to gamble on sharing." With that, Chris goes about opening the locker with his initials on it, if it can, if not he'll try and find the means of prying the door from the hinges)