<i>...you let me die<br/>
<br/>
..you left me...I died alone...and you didn't help me....</i><br/><br/>Everything was dark, as night always was in the Wasteland. Shapes skittered in the dark, whispering dark things. The ba-thump of his heart beating echoed in the dark. He tried to walk forward but found himself paralyzed, stuck in this oblivion watching shadows snap at him.<br/><br/><i>...you did nothing....</i><br/><br/>A flurry of liquid darkness, darker than the shadow around it coalesced into a box-like shape before him. It started to sprout colors, pale browns and rusty greys blooming like flowers from the black canvas. The shadows grew excited snapping at his heels and always staying in his peripheral vision. He struggled to move as this familiar nightmare continued.<br/><br/><i>....watch me, watch me.....</i><br/><br/>A brilliant orange blossomed at the base of his old home. Splashing upwards in flowing strokes until a great fire was devouring the house.  The door of the house opened and spat out flames as a small figure walked out.<br/><br/>A cascade of roses fell from the dark sky, blood red.<br/><br/><i>Ring around the rosie</i><br/><br/>The figure, still burning as she slowly walked towards him, its pink dress turning grey.<br/><br/><i>Pockets full of posies</i><br/><br/>Her dress started to turn to ash, her features starting to distort as her skin bubbled. Her hands, merely bones and burning muscles, reached towards him.<br/><br/><i>Ashes, ashes</i><br/><br/>She reached for his hand, a pistol in it. He tried to fight, but his hand was led by hers. Dragged up as if through water. The barrel of the pistol settled in her mouth.<br/><br/><i>We all fall down</i><br/><br/>Everything went dark as his pistol fired and he woke up.<br/><br/>__________________________<br/><br/>Tony opened his eyes slowly, his heart beating in his chest vicously. Louie was looking at him, worried. He must have been whimpering in his dreams again.<br/><br/>He looked down at the multitude of small scars on his chest and arms, each one of them from a memory best left forgotten but still ingrained, rooted, hooked into his mind. It had made itself physical in his flesh, and the fresh cut in his arm was only another stroke of the paint of its portrait.<br/><br/>Tony wet a rag and wiped away the dry blood on his arm before shrugging on a gray shirt and donning his trademark coat. He looked around for a second, confused. He felt...light. His hand reached up to try and grasp the brim of his hat before catching empty air. His hat. It was gone. Stolen? No. Lost? More likely. In Annie's room. He'd have to retrieve it later. Perhaps ask her about it at the meeting.<br/><br/>He grasped at his pistols, feeling the cool handles. He wiped the sweat off his brow before exiting his room without a word.<br/><br/><br/>__________________________<br/><br/><br/>He arrived in Fanya's office silently. The only evidence of his night being the deep bags under his eyes and his stare, colder than usual. His posture showed no fatigue though and his hand held a full bottle of liquor, unopened as of yet.<br/><br/>He looked around at the others and didn't find Annie. His heart dropped at this. Whether it was because he wouldn't be getting his hat soon or because of some other reason, he did not know.<br/><br/>He stayed silent, Louie sitting down at his legs, alert. His bored expression remained chiseled into his head, as his eyes bored into the door waiting for Annie.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>