Kelvin
*``Was it over?``*

Arlet was alive. Or was she? No, this wasn't quite being 'alive' in the conventional sense. She was somewhere else familiar and yet all to different, having regained full access to her body. It was no longer mangled at the neck region, nor was their any slight of injury from what she endured no less then five minutes ago. Even her usage of her *Abilities* Was totally clean state, despite the energy she had exerted in the attempt to thwart the claw. Her body would feel lithe, strong, and hues of orange and blue floated around her. The strange, extraordinary feeling of the added weight on the Inn was also gone— indeed, it was if she was transported elsewhere. A realm in-between realms, perhaps. . . A *Purgatory.* She wasn't alive, but also not dead yet. The middle-ground of fate, but why? A second chance? A dream? A state of mind entering death? A function of the Inn? There was no clear explanation. 

For a temporary period, she could see nothing, but eventually a world formed around her. It was the outside of the Mancini Inn, the exterior of the world surrounding it— but not quite. Everything was *Grayscale*, from the sky to the people, and it didn't feel. . . *Real*. Like a distant memory or a dream gaining semi-awareness, all the chanting civilians outside opened their mouths, and yet made no noise. Their faces were blurred out, as were the faces of the group— William, Shiro, Athena, Tom, Starbi, Alexis and Roberta— far across from where she stood. Arlet was behind the yellow tape, but there was no image of herself within the recollection of the moment they arrived at the crime scene. It was eerily silent, and everyone— all things, really, moved in slow motion. A pace that the time of wherever she really was could not follow accurately, distorted by the uncertainty of the realm itself. A place of disharmony and false reality.

**```
"WHO. ARE. YOU. WHAT DO YOU WANT? WHY DO YOU STAND?"
```**
A sudden voice emerged from the empty, dulled skies above her. Arlet could move, run, jump, scream and shout. The tone of said voice was indiscernible as the sensation of the world around her, but she could easily make-out what it said. It asked a series of questions that did not seem to relate to the context at hand— although nothing could really relate to whatever was happening right now, in the end. She could answer if she wanted, seeing as ignoring it as opposed to interacting with the fracture of the world she had access too didn't seem like a plentiful alternative. They were the sort of questions that provoked thought in a thoughtless realm. As its inquires were made, a faint, yet noticeable dark blue light filled the sky. It was identical, if she had noticed at any point, to that cube within the void of claws she was in moments before supposed death. Otherwise, it was meaningless.
John
Her fingertips have grown cold.
It is her sight that deteriorates first. The vibrancy of the world dissolves into an achromatic blur.
The last to fade is the slowing pulse of the heart. The overwhelming fatigue of the body clutches it unto death.
This sensation is familiar to her, frighteningly so. Each time is more awful than the last.
Her strength has been stolen from her. It dwindles with each fading heartbeat. And it will die when it finally goes still.
But it seems, this time, that it will not start again.

*`...It's over...`*

She was not a stranger with Death. She had visited it, knocked upon its door and crossed its precipice, met and felt its cold embrace. She had tread her string bound taut to the loom of fate — walked the thin thread between life and death — and passed from one side to the other and back again, many, many times. She had delved deeper into that darkness than perhaps any living being had ever delved before. She had seen it and found it was an impermeable void — an abyss embodying complete and total emptiness; a sumtotal of every shortcoming, failure, and defect that constituted her flawed life. She had felt, seen, touched and experienced it, and yet still persisted in living.

***`I failed.`***

Each time she challenged life, she failed, and then, again, found Death, waiting.
Death was the only mirror that could reflect who she truly was; it showed her and everything she could not accomplish.
But it still had not taken her yet—it *Could not* Take her yet—she ***Would not*** Let it take her yet.
This was the truth that defined the core of everything Arlet was, and amidst her many weaknesses, was her greatest—

*```fix
"...Fuck."```*

_ _
Arlet broke from the deluge as one who had succumbed to drowning suddenly thrust onto land. Immediately as she retained her waking conscience, her hands felt their way to her throat, clasping tight around the dry skin that was just minutes ago drenched with the outpour of blood. A vivid sense of discomfort shot through her body as her pupils honed to a pinpoint, shooting across the monochromatic landscape; she couldn't help but curse upon her arrival.

```fix
"...Starbi?"```

Familiar forms without familiar faces. The world moved slowly around her, and she could not shake the uncanny sensation that churned her gut and piqued her instinct. Nothing here felt right.

```fix
"...Not dead yet, huh...?"```

Arlet did not believe in Heaven, and especially did not believe in "Limbo". Even if there was life after death for her, she was absolutely and unequivocally headed straight to Hell. Within moments of arriving in the disharmonious, grayscale world, she had already determined it an illusion — perhaps in some part aided by her profound understanding of death. While the sense of unease did not fade, she exhaled deeply, releasing with her breath all the consternation entrapped within. 

Her eyes shot to the sky as she heard the voice, her hand naturally finding its place upon her hip.
```fix
"Hey," She called back, her tone coarse and full of obstinance. The flickering, orange hue about her strengthened, as a brazen smile turned upon her lips.
"My name is Arlet."
"I'm here to 𝘬𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘴. Come down and fight me."```
Kelvin
*``"YOU WILL JOIN US. US. US."``*

The voice from the gray,. Dull skies above within the realm of uncertain limbo replies after initial silence, repeating and echoing the 'us' at the end of its statement. What that eluded too was not immediately clear, but that changed rather quickly. Shortly, the ground beneath Arlet begins to shake— it begins moderate, slow, before rapidly intensifying, more then enough to knock one off balance even with her physical abilities after about fifteen seconds of amplification, though halting its increase at that point in and of itself. This wouldn't be *Nearly* As striking as what was happening in front of her, however; in the blink of an eye, all of those figures who appeared in front of the reconstructed Inn, from the blanked out protestors, offices and the group replica, vanished. Gone, nowhere to be seen, no indication, motion nor reasoning as to why. . . Until they were visible again, suddenly.

An excessively large shadow began to cover the hollow sky, towering vertically albeit not directly above Arlet. There was no warning nor clarity as to how or when it formed, but it took on a ring-like, circular formation that was hollowed in the middle. It spun, much in fashion to the now steadily shaking ground, growing in its aggression and pace. It was mostly gray in appearance, but upon no doubt seamless inspection, however, it appeared to be comprised of. . . *People*. Not just any people, either— those who had disappeared from the ground next to the Inn, for one, and *Also* A large number of bodies representing those that had been killed in the Inn, not that she recognized who they were. O.S.A. Agents, sorcerers, private freelancers. It was a giant pile of animate humanoid figures, constructing a cycling ring that needless to say did not seem friendly in nature. The inn and the crime scene did remain, but vacant. It didn't seem to matter that as far as she knew, those outside and her group weren't dead, unlike nearly everyone else staggered with them.

*``"YOUR SOUL IS OURS. IT BELONGS TO US. US. US."``*

The noise it emits from above is nearly deafening in tandem with the ground that disallowed Arlet to stand, and yet it still hums sentiments from its previous statement loud enough so as to be heard, probably because the figures that comprised the ring also uttered the same words, mixing the skies lack of tone with a combination of contrasting, devolving intonations. This is what she had requested— to come down and 'fight' her. Unfortunately, she was not clued in on the fact that her opponent was not singular, and in fact was the opposite of that. All of the sudden, the ring attempts to accelerate itself downwards towards her position—

**``BANG!``**

Yet another equally overpowering sound comes about. Its likewise to that of a *Gunshot*, however— and as Starbi's weapon fires from nowhere identifiable, despite not landing an observable hit in the conventional sense, the ring of bodies almost immediately loses its integrity. The conjoined pile of figures separate and collapsed, entering freefall from the sky and essentially raining down on Arlet like a flesh-laden downpour, hitting the ground like flies swatted. Moreover, the shaking of the ground that once prevented her from maintaining balance decreased enough so as to enable her to overcome that, now being perfectly manageable. She could stand, no long powerless, and more importantly maneuver the storm. 

*``"US. US-US-US-US——- RIGHT. RIGHT. RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT."``*

But they weren't 'dead', or subdued just yet. Those that had fallen after a few moments seemed to remobilize, though not standing up— rather, they *Crawled* Towards Arlet, akin to a massive, mindless hoard of the undead. They continued to speak in unison with intent to harm, yet adding another term into the mix that was even less coherent then the echoing 'us' it had been using, and the voices were different. Regardless, Arlet's enemies faced her now.
Leigh
I'll post after i get caught up with the like

Im not caught up with