Who: Harry Lockhart, Virgil Brotherton What: Harry has no idea where he is Where: The Carnaval grounds, near the carousel When: Saturday morning, February 1st Warnings: Harry’s foul mouth, tbd Status: Closed, Ongoing
"Shit," was all that came to mind for Harry at the moment. He had no idea where he was and no memory of how he'd gotten there. Not ten minutes ago, he'd been on a case with Perry. His best friend had frowned at him and told him to stay put in that tone he got when Harry was starting to get on his nerves, and had gotten out of the car to talk to a guy across the street about a lead on their target. And Harry had stayed put, he'd been waiting in the car and playing with the window, flicking the switch back and forth and watching the glass slide up and down. And that was the last thing he remembered.
Now he was, apparently, at a carnival - one that looked like it had seen far better days. There was a battered carousel to his left and he could see a ferris wheel on the other side, peeking over the top of it. Wooden stands with faded signs offering cotton candy and lemonade and games were lined up in front of him. It was quiet and seemed largely empty, and there was an edge of a burnt smell lingering in the humid air. There was no car, no Los Angeles, and no Perry; all of that spelled nothing but trouble to Harry's mind. His brow knit in confusion, and he turned in place, looking around him for some sort of clue as to where he was. Maybe he'd fallen asleep in the car? But this didn't feel like a dream. And in dreams, when things got weird, you didn't question it. Not dreaming then. So what the hell was this? He flailed his arms in frustration. "How the hell do you fucking teleport or whatever without even..." he said out loud to himself, trailing off incredulously.