WHO: Number Eight and Cami O'Connell WHAT: Eight's Arrival WHEN: Saturday night WHERE: Downtown WARNINGS: TBD, probably not STATUS: Closed/Ongoing
Eight gasped, collapsing to the ground. His hand went to his chest where he'd felt the spear pierce him, but...he pulled his hand away and looked at it. There wasn't blood. At all. He sat up, realizing suddenly that somehow he wasn't dead. He wasn't even injured. How...
Looking around him, it became obvious that he was not in the Florida Everglades. In fact...it was cold here. What the hell?
He stood, his hand still on his chest as he looked around him, trying to get any idea at all where he was. Nothing looked familiar. A person approached him, giving him a cell phone, a debit card, a key to an apartment, and a brief explanation of where he was. Indiana? How had he ended up in Indiana?
This was so weird.
"Marina? Six? Nine?" No answer. "Five?" He didn't really want to talk to the traitor, but it would be better than nothing. At least it would be something familiar.