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/qst/ - Quests

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"You might be a smart girl, but you aren't a lucky one"

You play as Delilah, an unfortunate young girl going through tough times.

=Links and Information=


Thanks to an anon, here is the pastebin of just the text. With threads purposely being misarchived, this should be available and accessible instead:
Melancholic Quest Collection 1 (1-4): http://pastebin.com/hTK0fQmd
Melancholic Quest Collection 2: http://pastebin.com/cX4HC6Q9
Melancholic Quest Collection 3: http://pastebin.com/sTuR8xJv
Melancholic Quest Collection 4: http://pastebin.com/RPwa7nEt
Melancholic Quest Collection 5: http://pastebin.com/DJ71TtFc
Melancholic Quest Collection 6: http://pastebin.com/xxCdZfx6
Melancholic Quest Collection 7: http://pastebin.com/7skcyeX0

Quick Glance (SPOILERS) The quick Who is Who and what Delilah has. Mostly accurate.:


Twitter; @Cowboy_Sue
Discord; https://discord.gg/8CCdcQ3 <--updated to be working
Chat room with me and other players. I answer questions, post sketches, and act cheeky.
You keep quiet, not daring to even suggest that you'd be able to smell out bad blood. It leaves you with a heavy sense of responsibility on your chest but Brandi doesn't take any notice, instead taking a moment to calm herself down.

"I didn't mean to to just spill all of that on you, I've just been a little stressed lately..." Brandi says with a tired smile, remaining quiet as she stares at you. It looks like she had been close to tears but you don't meet her gaze, looking down at yourself instead and wondering if you made the right choice. "Say, don't they have real clothes for you here?"

"Huh?" you look up at her confused, only to look down at the t-shirt hanging loosely from your frame. It's at that moment that you become embarrassed in walking out in just the shirt, despite the fact that it ends at a mostly acceptable length down your thighs. "Oh this I um, no I do have clothes here this is just um, this is just my b-...my boyfriend's shirt."

"Boyfriend? That's sweet," she comments with a quick glance over you, "Kinda a big boy though, ain't he?"

"Yeah," you laugh quietly. There's another silence and Brandi is once again staring at you, this time studying your face. Attempting to speak up as to not feel under the spotlight you fall short each time, awkwardly opening and closing your mouth before looking down in embarrassment.

"Hey, come take a look at this again," she finally motions you to come closer, tapping at the photo. Her finger rests next to one of the men posed in the photo, a white toothy grin poking up beneath a dark bushy mustache. "This guy look familiar to you?"

"Um..." you take a closer look, face scrunching up as you study over the faded image. It hadn't struck you at first, but the more you look at the man the more you get a nagging feeling that something is familiar. The gun he holds, away from the camera but still very much visible, makes you uncomfortable for another reason you can't quite place. "I'm afraid I don't, I'm sorry."
"That's fine, I didn't think you would. That man there is-" Brandi's words cut off as the kitchen door swings open, the frame filling up immediately with a tall form. You can recognize Lawrence from anywhere and anytime, but to her this is another stranger that may or may not hurt her more.

"Hi Lawrence," you greet him quickly in hopes that it will calm Brandi down, "um, couldn't sleep?"

Your friendly, one sided, conversation with him puts her at ease slightly but she quickly folds up the photo and hides it away in her shirt. "Busted, I'll just have to tell you another time..." she whispers.

Giving her a quick nod you notice that Lawrence doesn't look to happy right now despite otherwise looking groggy and unfocused. "Did you need a snack too? That's why I came in here, I meant to go right back to bed afterward but I um..." You glance over at Brandi with a guilty weight on your shoulders, "I guess I got a little distracted though. Should I grab something for you or-"

Lawrence shakes his head and motions that you should come towards him, walking over to meet you halfway anyways and lead you away with a hold on your shoulder. He doesn't indicate anything else to you, other than a desire for you to leave the room with him. Risking a look back at Brandi you mouth the words good night to her, wishing you didn't have to leave her so unexpectedly like this. She gives you a small wave back, still looking pitiful cuffed to the kitchen table. It does look like she's a little more at peace with it though, at least for now. The sight of her vanishes all together once you're moved out of the kitchen, the door swinging closed and isolating her again.

You expect Lawrence to stop any moment to explain what he's doing exactly, but the longer the hold on your shoulder lasts the more worried you become.

"Is something wrong?" you start to ask only to feel a twisting motion in your stomach, "Did I do something wrong?"

His steps come to a sudden stop and so do you in turn, his hand letting go of you so that he can point back at the kitchen. There's agitation on his scarred face as he motions between you and the door, shaking his head no.

"I didn't know she was in there..." you mumble before staring up at Lawrence, trying not to feel off put by how serious he is right now. It's honestly intimidating but you somehow manage to hold your ground anyways. "But it's fine, we were just talking. She was chained up to the table you know, and she got shot earlier...I don't think she would have done anything even if she could."
Lawrence doesn't look satisfied with that answer one bit, once again silently but vehemently pushing the point about how he does not want you in there with that woman at all. Before you can even try to say anything about it he starts to lead you forward again, pushier than usual. You follow along though you attempt to try and make him stop so that you can get an explanation about what exactly is wrong. He hadn't been like this earlier and this sudden change in attitude doesn't settle well with you at all.

"Hey, slow down a sec...!" you grab onto his hand to make sure he listens, "It's hard for me to keep up with you!"

It's finally enough to make Lawrence stop, at least for right now. The sharpness in his face has hardly dissipated, making you wonder if there really was something that you had done to make him upset. With all the secrets everyone likes to keep from you here you start to doubt that he'd even tell you and that's a thought that honestly starts to make you feel miffed. Things had been going fine in there and if you did do something wrong then you want someone to explain it to you instead of just leaving you in the dark like this.

You don't know if you should finally try to tell Lawrence that you'd like to be treated more like an adult now or if you should just apologize for talking to Brandi and not try to instigate anything further. A petty piece of you wants to give him the silent treatment back, so he can maybe understand what it's felt like for you since arriving here...
>Melancholic Quest Collection 7: http://pastebin.com/7skcyeX0
Thread 29 isn't archived on suptg and half the thread is missing in that paste. I found the thread on yuki.la after a bit of digging

We didn't do anything wrong by talking to her. If they didn't want us to meet her they shouldn't have left her alone in the kitchen of all places.

And unrelated to this, but shouldn't Delilah make the connection between her mother's alcoholism and the blood drinking thing already? She drank strong liquor like it was nothing while the adults could barely sip it without coughing or making a face. It also gave her a weak but similar buzz. With the stories of her mother's teen drinking issues it should not be much of a mystery anymore
If you want to be treated like an adult then you need to act like one, whatever that means exactly. Taking this punishment for something that you're sure isn't a big deal? That's something you shouldn't take laying down, you're not just some kid who can just be scolded for no reason.

"All I did was talk to her a little bit, what's so wrong with that?" Despite how strange and uneasy it makes you feel talking back your words come out clear and strong, you even maintain eye contact with Lawrence. "If no one wanted me talking with her then maybe she shouldn't have been left alone in the kitchen like that, all I wanted was to go in there to get something to eat. How was I supposed to know she was in there?"

It's Lawrence who breaks off the stare and you begin to wonder if you actually sound as angry as you think. His mouth begins to move but the words are inaudible. His hands begin to move and sign, though being unable to read his lips it's impossible for you to tell if he's clarifying what's he was attempting to say.

You safe

He repeats those two signs a few times, trying to drive home a point you already knew.

"I'm fine though, nothing bad happened!" you try to keep your voice down but the sting still remains. "She couldn't move from that spot and I swear I'm not dumb enough to get caught by someone like that. I can handle myself some." Your gaze finally falls to the floor and the words trail out, "I'm not completely helpless..."

A heavy sigh leaves Lawrence before he kneels on the ground, your downward gaze catching sight of the dark hairs outlining his chin. Both of his hands come to hold your shoulders now, his grip not painful but strong.

"Safe." It's easier to read his lips than to understand the words coming out, his low and harsh gravel becoming worse the more he tries. "No...chances. Can't. Need you."
You reach up to touch one of his hands but as soon as your fingertips make contact Lawrence releases you, only to grab and hold both of your hands between his.

"Worried. So much...for you." His words start to crack and make it harder to understand between the gruff and the gravel, his whole body beginning to slump down. He even looks away from you and makes it harder for you to understand what he's saying. Only his grip on you remains attentive and firm, pulling your hands inadvertently closer to him. When you try to look Lawrence in the face better all you can see is uneasiness, eyes staring widely even as his brow burrows down and his hold tightens once more.

"Please. Delilah." He pulls your hands towards him once more, resting both yours and his against his chest now. Through the shirt you can feel just how quick and anxious his heart is beating, going at such a rate that you start to feel scared. The sound of footsteps down the hall doesn't pull your attention away at all- you swear the rapid beating is echoing in your ears. "Safe...keep safe. For me."

"I will," you promise. Not that you would think of suggesting otherwise and while you're quick to chalk this up to Lawrence being overly protective of you there's a strange twinge of fear in his begging, coming from somewhere that you don't quite understand yet. "But I'm supposed to be safe here, remember? So try to relax a little, I can take care of myself here, I swear."

Lawrence begins to struggle with his words, taking too long and losing the chance to say what he had in mind as Rizzo peers out.
"Ah, I thought heard someone talking", he sighs with tired words and walks over. Lawrence rises upright and releases your hands, leaving you behind so he can meet up with Rizzo. "Could only hear the one voice though, I was beginning to worry that my hearing was getting worse."

"Sorry if we-, if I was being too loud." You stay where you are, face heating up in fear that he had heard your little outburst.

"If you are awake then I do not think anyone here is trying to sleep right now, you are not bothering anyone." A few band-aid decorate the old man's face, one of several reminders of the events from earlier. "Though it is good for a girl your age to get plenty of sleep."

"I just woke up and needed to walk around for a bit," you lie to avoid going through the same kind of scolding again.

"I understand" Rizzo nods and motions for you to hold on a moment. Turning towards Lawrence he begins to address him instead, "If you are up anyways then I think Crockett needs to speak to you, just head over to my office."

Lawrence nods and with a quick glance back leaves you behind with Rizzo, going off to do something that he's probably going to refuse to tell you about later. There's a pout on your face when Rizzo makes his way over to you, the touch on your shoulder softer than how it was just a short moment ago.

"And I would recommend that you go back to sleep," he says softly. "If you are still unable to sleep then I suggest paying your grandmother a visit."

"This early in the morning?" you question.

"She is awake right now, but she does not know you are up and about. If you do not want to though I will not tell her and I would not be opposed to you getting some more sleep instead."

You look down the hallway, spotting the light beneath your grandmother's door.

Do you want to go back to sleep in Lawrence's room, go back to your own room, or stop by your grandmother first?
Oh my god thank you for finding Thread 29, it isn't with the others as it was part of a bunch of misarchives some awful person was doing
Visit granny, we haven't got nearly enough time with her

I wonder what it will feel like to have a heart worth 100 000 dollars
Gotta take every chance to visit granny that we can.
Go say hi to gram.
"Is there anyone else in there?" you ask, Rizzo shaking his head no. "Okay, I'll go talk to her."

"I am glad to hear that," he says with a rustle of the bag clutched in his hand. In the clear plastic you can't make out what's inside but the labels slapped on the outside tells you that it has something to do with medicine. "If you need me for anything I should be in my office soon."

You nod and walk away, giving a glance back when Rizzo's footsteps begin again. He's shuffling towards the kitchen and a mumbled 'good luck' leaves you.

Giving a soft knock you poke your head around the door, hoping that she is still awake. "Grandma, it's me."

"Delilah," she gives a breathy and short smile "What are you doing up? It's late."

Stepping completely in the room you answer, "I couldn't sleep is all." You fail to add that it's hard for you to keep track of the time in this place, it could easily be the middle of the day and nothing in here would be different.

"Come over here sweetie," she beckons, "Please shut the door behind you."

The door echoes with a click as the two of you are now alone, the hum from the bedside machine being the only thing keeping the room from being silent. She motions for you to sit in the chair beside her, putting you at eye level with the pill bottles lining the table next to her.

"Dr. Rizzo said you were awake right now, so I just thought I would come say hi for a bit."

"So he sent you in here?" she asks with the sternness you had known for so long starting to return to her exhausted voice.

"Um, I did want to come see you though," you squirm in your seat in fear that she thinks you didn't want to come in here. "I just don't want to bother you when you're resting so um, so I'm sorry if I haven't been seeing you enough..."

The delicate lines of her hand stretch out as she reaches out to you, holding your hand in hers. "There's some important things I need to tell you," her grip on your hand is far softer than the seriousness in her words, "and you must promise to listen to everything I say, understand."

You nod, "Yes ma'am."

"I know today was a bad day," her words are softer now and you just nod along, "You shouldn't have been in the middle of that, I am so sorry. You weren't supposed to have to worry about that sort of thing anymore, not with me here."

As bad as you'd like to assure her that everything is okay you can't really find the right words for it and you begin to doubt how true those optimistic thoughts are.

Your grandmother sighs, "I should just be thankful that you came back alright, but I wish you didn't have to see the measures we've been forced to resort to. This is the sort of life I wanted to leave behind, yet here I am." Her cloudy eyes look off unfocused in front and she gives your hand a squeeze. "And here we are, having a conversation I should have given you as soon as you arrived."

"It's okay," you give her hand a squeeze back, "you can tell me now."
"Do you know what they were buying today?" she asks, waiting till you give your answer.

Suddenly hesitant to answer it takes you a few tries. "It's a heart for you."

"Was." She sighs again and stares up at the dark textured celling. "Unfortunately, those kind of organs last for a short while. Between acquiring it and preparing for surgery, it's a lot to do in just a few hours. It might have been for the better that we didn't try this one today. Do you know what would have happened if we did receive it as planned?"

"They'd do surgery on you, right?"

"Yes," she whispers, "and that means that I would have left for it. Rizzo will be able to take care of you, but he wouldn't be able to do my surgery- not that it could be done here either. I would have been rushed off to the people we have on call."

It's not something you had really thought about before but it suddenly has you shook. It would have been just as frightening if they took your grandmother away just like that, carting her off to get some surgery you don't understand at some unknown location with strangers. "I um..." you look for the words to say but your thoughts are frazzled.

"I would have needed to spend a while over there to make sure everything was going correctly and in a way I am thankful we got a little more time to prepare for this." Both of her hands come to hold yours now and your grandmother sits up the best she can to look you in the eyes. "And you do know that there is always a chance for the surgery to fail."

"I-..." It's become harder to breathe and you try to focus on the pattern of the colored thread weaved through the fabric of her blanket. "I don't r-really want to talk about this grandma..."

"We must though, I'm sorry." While unmoved with talking about the prospect of her death she does look at you with pity about the subject, "It would be wrong for me not to warn you of that possibility, it's something you must know."

You just nod along and try not to tear up.

"But even if the worst does happen, if I don't come home or if we find other trouble then I need to make sure that I can at least leave you prepared. or at least as prepared as I can. Now this, I am about to tell you something that you must keep a secret."

"Yes ma'am, I p-promise."

"This is a secret between only you and I, it must remain that way." With the door closed and you two alone she's free to speak but she leans her head against yours and whispers. "If things ever get terrible, even if you are forced to escape alone, you need to know where my safe is and how to get into it."

"You safe?" you murmur back, "Like the one grandpa had in his office?"
"Just like it," she nods, "however I prepared this one for you, just as my own emergency backup. It's hidden beneath some floorboards in your father's room, out of sight and out of the way. No one else knows where it is, no one else but you and I."

"Dad's- Do you mean at your house?"

Your grandmother's head shakes slowly, "No, the one here. I had it put in for him originally."

"Which one was his room?"

"In the west hall, the second door." She stops, mapping out the room in her head. "I believe they've been using it as a storage room for the things that we don't need but you should still be able to locate it. The boards you can move have a few scratches on them, that's how you know. Just pry them up and it will be there."

"What if they're covered up?"

"They shouldn't be. When we were settling in here and I was able to walk around more. I prepared a package for you and left it in there after they had finished with the room. It's near the wall and should still be cleared, they don't have any use for that room otherwise."

You start to look around for a pen or anything to write with. "And what about the code?"

"It should be easy for you to remember," she says as you continue searching.

"Is it okay if I write it down?"

"You should be able to remember it anyways."

"Is it all one number or something?"

Her head moves 'no', "It's just your father's birthday."

"Ah..." your search comes to an end. "So it should be um, so April...um, is it 4, 3 and um...and..."

Holding up her hand in mock of performing the action your grandmother's hand moves in conjunction with her words. "You go right to 04, left 03, right 19, and left 58."

"April third, 1958..." you repeat the year to yourself in order to commit it to memory. "I can remember that."

"I don't want it to be, but what I put in there for you should be enough for you to get by on, enough to help you..." As her words begin to trail off you can notice how exhausted this one conversation has made her. It won't be much longer before she won't be able to continue and you'll have to go to bed.

For now you remain and feel the silence that rests between you two. The orange pill bottles catch you attention again, the complicated names of the medication meaning nothing to you. They're a sight that you had been used to seeing before, way back before things were this way. A mix of different ones your parents kept, though after the death of your father the number decreased severely. There were still a few left behind in the house, something you'd be reminded of anytime you needed to snoop around your mother's room.
It's obvious that she preferred the use of alcohol, the sight of empty bottles still making you think of her. But now you can't just think of her as just some drunk, at least not like you had before. There's something different about her, just the same as you, and it would feel wrong to try and call either of you normal.

You inherited something terrible enough, whatever it is, and you begin to fear that you will also find yourself in the same position as your grandmother.

"This w-won't happen to me too, will it?" It feels rude to ask but this isn't something you want to come as a surprise, not now and not ever.

Managing a smile your grandmother answers, "You won't if you stay young. Just do that and you'll be fine." Her smile fades and her eyes begin to close, her head following in the droop.

You stand up and move your hands to hold hers instead. "I think I should head back to bed now grandma. Good night, I love you."

"Good night...sweetie..." she just manages that, her body becoming limper as she begins to fall into sleep. You place her hands gently on the bed, careful to stand and walk away without too much noise. Part way to the door you can just manage to hear her attempt to speak up again and you look back to see her watching.

"Do you want me to get you something?" you ask.

"What happened...to your pajamas?" The words come with a yawn, "The nice purple ones. Did you lose them?"

"Oh no, this? I just wanted to change it up a little, that's all-"

"You're going to catch a cold...in those. And when you walk," she talks with tired and slow hand movements, "I can almost see your bottom."

Immediately you reach behind and pull down the hem of the shirt with fear that you really have been flashing everyone. "What, no you can't! It's like, halfway down my thighs-"

"Is that what you call halfway?" Memories of her trying to educate you on being ladylike come flooding back, not the scoldings but the little tips she would try to give you. "It really should go past your knees anyways."

You resist trying to backtalk her further, though it's honestly something you've missed doing for years now. "I'll be going to bed now so you don't have to worry about seeing it. Good night."

The soft grin on your grandmother's drowsy face doesn't go unnoticed and for a moment you almost forget just what conversation you two had.
Just in the other hallway, hidden beneath floorboards is something you're supposed to find in an emergency and it's something that only the two of you know about. As you recall which door she had mentioned you start to gnaw at your lip. In the many moments of boredom you had previously and gone exploring through the place you definitely tried out every unknown door. Most have been locked, including the door she told you to go to. You doubt she had known that but you aren't about to bother her with that detail, it's something you can handle by yourself.


If you can just unlock the door then you should be fine, but as far as you know there's only two people who would have the keys to the doors. Crockett for sure, the big chain that he carries is bound to have the correct one and you wouldn't doubt the idea of Rizzo having a copy of them too.

You'd like to try and find the safe later and make sure you know where it is and that you can get inside, just one of the ways you can be prepared.

If you follow your grandmother's orders exactly then that'll mean needing to find a way to either sneak into the room or to sneak off with the keys.

It might just be easier if you try asking either Crockett or Rizzo for access into the room, but then you'd have to figure out a lie or break one of the promises and tell them why you need access inside.

Between the plans of sneaking in or breaking your promise you yawn, thinking about how maybe this should be something you worry about when the time comes. You're supposed to be safe here after all, boredom is the only thing getting to you at this rate.

How do you want to approach the safe?
No sense in worrying about it right now.
We take from Crockett, and use our powers of stealth to sneak round.
If we get cause then we just tellem we were bored or something.
I'm sure we can play the role of a bird child and nag everyone until someone relents and take us on a tour. If they know in advance they might not get as pissed if we do have to steal a key.

Or we can tell grandmother that it's locked and she can tell Rizzo to give us a spare key. No need to make this difficult
I wrote bored
You'll work up a plan to have the door unlocked for you, that's something you can handle. It's a secret entrusted on you and frankly there have been far more difficult things you've had to do, getting access into a room should be a walk in the park.

During your short walk in the hallway you think about how much there is for you to do now, at least compared to the past few days. It's almost overwhelming to think about but you've already made up your mind on following through. Those journal pages you stole from Crockett are still waiting to be read and while the information so far is sparse you haven't forgotten the list of girls yet.

The light beneath Lawrence's door illuminates the cold floor and you begin to envision him waiting for your return. Or perhaps he fell asleep with the lights on and you can come in and scold him for it. You can act like earlier didn't happen and that you hadn't raised your voice or had upset him. Plans of breakfast for the two of you begin to form as you push open the door, sight instantly falling on where he stands by the dresser.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to walk in like this-" you cover your eyes and begin to close the door once you see that he's buttoning up jeans- only to wonder why he's getting dressed at this hour. He seems not bothered by your intrusion and continues to get dressed, pulling on a thick long sleeved shirt next. "Hold on, are you going somewhere?"

Lawrence's back turns towards you, choosing to mess with a backpack resting on the bed when he answers you with a nod.

"You didn't mention that earlier." It comes harsher than you meant but you don't enjoy never knowing when Lawrence leaves. When all you hear is the rustling of the bag's contents your face scrunches into a pout and you walk over, keeping your footsteps light so that you can sneak a look at what he's got. You only catch the sight of duct tape before it too gets put up and zipped away with whatever else he's got in there. The backpack is something new, looking like nothing special but sagging with the weight inside as Lawrence moves it away.
Making sure he can hear your dissatisfied 'hmph' you take a seat on the bed as he walks away to pull down a dark blue coat hanging on the back of the chair. "Where are you going?" you ask. He barely gives you a no before putting on the coat, his hands traveling up to fasten the buttons. You remain insistent, "Why not? What could be so bad about me knowing what you're doing?"

The look on Lawrence's face as he turns towards you is stern, the scars featuring even more prominently on the sharp features of his face. If you didn't know him like you do then it might be a terrifying sight to see but all it does is make a frustrated sigh leave your chest as you fall back to the bed and turn away from him.

"Whatever..." you mumble. It's terribly silent as you lay there, listening to the sounds of Lawrence walking around the room. You aren't going to say anything though, you want to let him know that you don't like this. When the door opens and his footsteps begin to walk out your chest begins to seize up, not considering the option that he would just leave without saying goodbye. The door closes and you're left alone, hands grabbing the blanket and clenching tight.

It takes every bit of will to keep from jumping up when the door opens again, though you do a quick peek over just to make sure it is Lawrence. He comes to stand by the bed but all you manage to do is curl up against yourself closer and squeak out, "...I don't like not knowing if you're okay. You can trust me, I swear I won't let anyone know you told me."

"Can't." He sits on the edge of the mattress, putting you two back to back. "Not...this."

You glare at the wall ahead, "Like everything else you mean?"

"Different." There's a low sigh and a creak of the bed as he slumps forward.

"When will you be back?"


The pain in your lip grows as you bite down. "...if you're not back by then I'm going to be mad."

It's quiet as Lawrence reaches back and starts brushing his fingers through your hair. While the sensation is calming you don't turn to face him, in fear that you'll just end up lashing out at him needing to leave. Somehow you feel calm right now, becoming lost in the repeated motion.

So much so that you hardly realize that your eyes have closed and not long after that do you manage to fall asleep.

When you awake the blanket has been thrown over your body and only a nightlight remains on. You, of course, are alone. With little concern for the time you just stay in bed, rolling over to the side Lawrence had been sleeping on before and just looking around the room.

As you spend who knows how long just laying in bed and trying to find the motivation to finally get up you sit upright as the door creaks.

"You're back-" you start to say, pulling the blankets off and walking to the door so that you can greet Lawrence properly.
When you come face to face with Palmer at the door instead you can't but jump back, the look on her face just as surprised.

A smile spreads across her lips, "Ah, so you are in here. You had me worried when you weren't in your room."

"Oh, right." You start to feel awkward for being caught in Lawrence's room like this as you scratch the back of your neck and try not to look like you're up to no good. "Sometimes I come in here to sleep when it um, when it's too hard to in my room..."

"I'm just relieved that I didn't have to try looking for you outside!" Palmer's eyes flick up and down your body and she gives a short laugh, "Not that I think you would get too far without pants on."

"It's not that short..." you mumble while also pulling down the hem to ensure that you are in fact covered appropriately. "Um, it's nice to see you and all but did you need me?"

"I just wanted to see if you wanted breakfast, because either way I'm going to have some."

"Sure," you nod only to realize how strange it is to see her like this, "What are you doing here? Not that I don't mind that you're here, I'm sorry if that was rude-"

"Ace needed another set of hands around, that's all." Palmer is standing here in jeans and a button up, you should have realized she was off duty.

"So he's not here either?"

"Actually he is. Cooped up at his desk but he's here, it's everyone else that's gone."

"Everyone?" you ask, far more concerned by that than she is.

"Just you, me, Ace, and your granny. No worries though, the doc should be back a bit after noon. Not sure about the others though," Palmer shrugs, "The place will be full again by tonight though, pretty sure. And just a warning, I am no where near as good of a cook as Camilla is. So don't get your hopes up too much for breakfast."

When all you do is nod Palmer peers down, coming to meet you at face level. "What's wrong? Didn't ruin any of your plans did I?"

"No, nothing like that. I just don't always get told about what's going on," you admit.

"Right." She stands up tall again, crossing her arms as she looks down at you. "I know it's tough for you. If there's anything you need today you just let me know, got it?"

You nod, letting her know that you'll join her in the kitchen once you get dressed. On the walk back to your room you try to figure out a plan for today, or at least a first step. Breakfast with Palmer, while different, is easy enough. After that though, you should figure out what to do then.

You have a chance to speak with Palmer alone, which could give you a chance to poke around with some questions.

There's also the journal writing you have, they're going to take a bit of time to read and you want to make sure not get caught with stolen pages.

And of course there's still the matter of the safe. Aside from completing your grandmother's wishes you are also dying to know what could possibly be inside, whatever it is that makes it a secret.

What do you want to do after breakfast?
I say we get the journal done while everyone is gone, but askinh Palmer is she had access to any of the locked doors would also be nice just in case.
You double check to make the pages are still safe, trying not to think about them too hard as you head over to the kitchen.

The smell of cooking greets you first, shortly followed by Palmer who stands at the stove scraping away at a pan. "Nice to see you dressed now, I already set your plate at the table."

With a quick thanks you find your seat, finding a plate of scrambled eggs and toast already waiting. With how much she had piled on there you start to think that Palmer might have accidentally given you everything she had cooked, only to watch her come over to the table with her own plate.

"This about the extent of my cooking abilities," she explains while taking a seat across from you, "but I didn't burn them so go ahead and eat up."

Palmer doesn't wait to dig in but you just have to watch as she begins to shovel away food, unable to figure out if she could really finish it all. She takes notice of your staring and her fork finally comes to a rest. "What's wrong, not feeling good? Oh shoot or do you not like this?"

"No this is fine it's uh, I don't know if I can finish all of this..."

"Well," she starts eating at a more leisurely pace between words, "you have to eat all the eggs."

You stare down at the plate, "Why a-"

"Kidding, just eat as much as you want." There's some attempts at muffling her snickers as Palmer looks over at you, "Usually I just cook for myself, I sometimes forget that not everyone eats as much as I do."

"Thanks for breakfast." You force yourself to eat slowly, already anxious enough about what you'll be doing after.

"It's no problem. I'll probably end up making lunch too, probably going to still be around about that time. Just come find me if you don't mind a basic tuna sandwich."

"So um, what are you doing after this?" you try not to sound too interested, attempting to treat it as the mundane question it should be.

"See, today is technically my day off. But I can't just turn Ace down during his time of need, as much of a bother as he can be sometimes." Palmer's fork begins pushing the food around on her plate as she stares down at it, "There's not really a lot for me to do. I just have to help your granny once in a while and Ace wanted help just in case for that uh, that 'guest' here."

You frown. "Brandi."
"See, I told him that there was no reason to tiptoe around the subject but now all of a sudden Ace has become some sort of worrywart." A cloud starts to come over her face, shoulders sinking down with her fork. "He's always been a handful though, I've known that."

Picking herself up right away Palmer takes a much too large bite of fluffy eggs, hardly keeping her manners to not eat and talk at the same time. "Good to know that you don't always run around half naked all the time."

"You sound like my grandma."

"What?!" The over exaggerated look on Palmer's face almost makes you laugh, something you work hard on not doing. "I'll have you know that I am far from being an old lady- no offense to your granny. But what about you, what are your plans for today Delilah?"

"I uh..." Your plans are already being formed but you can't tell her that, which means you need to figure out a good cover up. "Well um, I was actually uh... I was thinking about asking permission to explore some of the locked rooms. Just the ones that aren't really important, you know?"


"I just don't really have a lot to do here and if they're just full of boxes of old stuff from here then I think it would be fun to explore and stuff." Readying yourself first you ask, "You um, wouldn't happen to have keys for any of the doors would you?"

"Just to doc's office. I can't believe all the doors have different locks, keeping track of that sounds like a nightmare."

"Maybe I can ask Mr. Crockett later, do you think that would be okay?"

"If you're just wanting to explore a room I'm sure it's not a big deal, but it's also not my call. I'll let him know that you wanna ask him though, how does that sound?"

You nod, "Thanks."

"And hey, I know you've been bored out of your mind here. Well whenever stuff like yesterday isn't happening anyways," Palmer's head rests in hand as she looks at you, sympathy heavy on her face and voice. "But how about this, I can bring back some stuff for you next time I come around. It's not a fix all but maybe I can keep you from going stir crazy a bit."

"I don't want you to go out of the way-"

"It's not out of the way. And, hell if you don't mind anyways, I'm pretty sure my niece wouldn't mind loaning out some of her magazines- she has stacks of them but says she can't stand the thought of just tossing them away."

"Well.." you start to think about it. While you wouldn't mind having something around that doesn't make you feel so anxious you also know that this might be your chance to get you information that could otherwise be kept from you otherwise. It'll sound a little weird for someone your age to request the local paper but you'll figure out a way to work with it,

Do you accept Palmer's offer to just bring over hand-me-down material from her niece or do you try to ask her to bring newspapers? Or if there's anything else you'd like to try and have brought in, this is your chance to ask for it.
1)Current News would be nice
2)More current VCRs to watch would also be nice, what is it? 198 something? This is one of the best times for movies, we need to catch up And hopfully find something that will keep Law's attention while we watch it with him.
Sounds about right, assuming there's a television in the safehouse. Maybe in one of the locked rooms.

Not to mention a recorder to actually play those tapes, or one of those cool new combo units.
"You don't have to make her give up her stuff but do you think you could maybe bring me some newspapers sometimes?" Bracing yourself for a 'no' you also start to think of reasons to justify such a request.

"Newspapers, really?" Palmer mostly looks surprised, "You sure that's it? I can just bring mine when I'm done with them if you don't mind the crosswords being half done."

"It'd be nice to know what's going on outside. I can't really hear about anything while I'm in here and I don't want to feel completely out of the loop..."

"Please, stop that." Her face begins to scrunch up and you try to prepare for a scolding. "I'll start bringing you some next time I come out. You just sounded like a prisoner just now and I didn't like it. Are you sure that's it though?"

"Um..." your thoughts scramble around to come up with a good idea and your face already feels red when you dare to ask, "Well um, would it be too much to ask for a...would a VCR be too much?"

"What, did they leave you movies here and no way to watch them?"

"No," your head shakes, "so um...I g-guess that would be kind of useless-"

"I'm sure I can swing a VCR," Palmer stares off as she begins to think, her fork moving continuously to dig through her almost finished breakfast. "And I'm sure I've got some movies at my place that you could watch. Oh my niece should have some too, she likes to go to one of those uh, Blockbusters all the time. Let's hope you have the same kind of taste as me and her."

"Whatever you bring will be fine- oh but if I could make one more request?" you wait for a nod . "If you do bring some VHS's down then would you make sure one of them is some kind of action movie? Or whatever boys like to watch..."

"Pretty sure I can swing that for you," she laughs before placing the fork down onto a now empty plate. "I need to make sure your granny is taken care of with her food and medication here in a sec. When you're done just leave the plate in the sink and I'm sure someone will eventually take care of it."

You thank Palmer for breakfast once more before she exits the kitchen, leaving you to try your best to finish what she made. For as full as you feel there's still an awful lot of eggs left, too many to simply let you toss them. Unsure if you or anyone else would want to finish them later you still decide to leave them in the fridge instead, taking a moment to clean yourself up at the sink. You ensure that your hands are clean of any oil or butter, anything that could end up smudging the journal writing.
Drying them off on the hand towel is another task you do longer than you should, trying to be extra careful and to put off the task a little longer.

Eventually you just kick yourself for being so scared of two pages and force yourself out of the kitchen. You go straight to the bedroom while thinking about how you aren't going to let anything distract you right now, even if your heart is beating painfully quick by the time the door closes behind.

Safe and alone now, you know what it's time to do. You take out the paper and bring it over to bed, turning on the lamp beside you in order to see the cramped writing better. Immediately you feel miffed upon noticing that the first page doesn't contain an entire entry, the first part of it still in its original place in the notebook. There are several entries written down, arranged by date. There are moments where the same date is written down twice, usually with small additions to previous entries.

"Okay Mr. Sutton," you whisper as the pages are shuffled into a tidy order in your hands, "Time to look at your notes..."

have been location of the last sighting of Esposito and Bowers, need to confirm location still.

October 24
Waited outside of apartments at 19:45. Car arrived 30 minutes later- matched description given in tip. Was spotted carrying) -bag (same as before) -bottle of wine (unknown what kind, maybe have been another type of alcohol). Accompanied by Lambart (carried only black bag, unknown contents). Went inside together. Am leaving vehicle to attempt photos. Car left behind with driver, old man? Will keep eye on him.
Men left apartment 10 minutes later, was forced to hide. Unsure of why left early, seemed to be in rush? Brought back everything but wine bottle.

October 25
Found bug hidden in seat of car. Will keep locked whenever not inside from now on.

October 25-26
Searched apartment for more bugs. Landlord mentioned visitors looking for me. Will turn in 30 days and stay in motel for now.
Acquired rental car to continue stake out. Will need to figure out another solution. No one came today (Oct 26 21:45) schedule seems to be changing now. will return back to watching B's house.

October 28
Activity of B has been low. Has not returned to work yet, employee gave long vacation as reason again. Mrs. B talked with J.J and said he was helping colleagues with project (still unsure if she knows what is going on or not, will continue to keep eye on her). Unclear of B's current location, has not shown up at apartments yesterday or today (so says landlady). Have not seen him leave or enter residence, believe he is somewhere else. Need to locate ASAP
October 29
Held another phone call with tipper. Was able to give heads up on tape distribution. Has mentioned erratic behavior in B but couldn't give more detail other than occasional neurotic behavior. Said it did not appear to be dementia, will need to document further to tell for sure. Gave location of building, apparently where B has been hanging around. Will go stake out with new rental car.

Oct 29
Contacted by tipper again. Warned to not hang around on streets anymore, says Bowers getting suspicious. Did not do stake out but drove by address instead. Fenced in house, between two other houses but only one neighbor currently. Big gap between the houses. Will try to get statement from neighbor, unsure who owns either residence. House looks to have cameras around property, unsure of other surveillance.

Sign of attempted forced entry on motel door. Will find new room for the night.

October 30
Meeting with A.C today, will relay current information. Can't use name when checking in, have been trying to sleep in rental car for now.

Abandoned rental car at park. Was trailed by dark car, tinted windows. Lost them while driving but unsure how they found me in first place. Will go meet A.C on foot.

Waiting on meeting time. Trying to stay in public for now, have not slept in over a day. Must be cautious.

Hour till meeting with A.C. I fear for life now, as tinted window car has driven by the bar currently holed up in. Do not believe tipper gave me away but unsure of how I was discovered, must be overly cautious now.

The entries stops halfway down the page, his writing becoming sloppier and scratchy the closer you get to the end. Thinking that's the end you flip through the blank pages you had also taken. The final page, however, is not blank. Far from it, you find a note written here different from the previous ones you just read.
Ace, keep journal safe. I am hiding it in the car as I have been tailed all day and they seemed to have found me again. I am afraid for my life right now but I am more afraid of all the effort put in going to waste. If you do not come in contact with me for more than a week then assume that I have been killed and that the rumors of Bowers are true. Aside from we have found that man is up to some dangerous things and I do not want my death to be in vain.

I have only seen that girl from the window but I want you to do everything you can to help her.

Good luck, stay safe, and here's to hoping that I didn't need to write this down for you.

Ross Sutton

You stare at this note the longest, the entire room quiet as it had been while you were reading. Looking that the man's signature puts a heavy, somber weight on your chest.

"I'm sorry..." you whisper to a person who will never hear it, "Whatever happened to you, I'm so...so so sorry..."

The pages are stacked back up in a neat order, all of the blank ones set aside in their own stack.

There's a sinking feeling in your center when you realize that Crockett hadn't read any of this yet.

You stare at the pages in hand, wondering what's the best thing to do with them.

Hand them over to Crockett and admit that you had stolen them, getting scolded and who knows what little privileges you have taken away?

Sneaking them back into the journal sounds like a stupid idea, but maybe Crockett won't try to ask you any questions if they're just returned.

Or maybe you could sneak them back into the car, somewhere that he could find them easily and be none the wiser.

Keeping them doesn't feel right but shoving them away in your drawer would be the easiest solution, that's for sure...

What do you want to do with the journal pages?
If we scribble a few doodles on the back of the pages, we could pass it off as not noticing.
Damn this is fuck.
I feel the only way to do this is take our lumps and come clean.
I really feel silly doing all this sneaking about, it seems to be more trouble than it's worth.
You reread the pages once more, trying to remember what you need to. Not that all of it makes sense, there's initials of who you assume are people you don't know. Seeing your surname written down so many times is worrying too, you only assume that this man had been talking about your father. And while you do feel bad for what happened to this Ross Sutton, if the ominous fate you imagine really did meet him, you can't help but feel your skin crawl at the idea of being watched. This guy had been trying to do good and he hadn't been there to watch you specifically, but knowing that you had been watched at your window before? It's impossible for you to tell if he knew exactly what had been going on during that time, if he had been waiting outside the apartment while those terrible things were going on inside without his knowledge. You'd hope that someone would have tried to stop it had they known but you're scared to know the answer for sure.

Either way these are something that you need to return, even if it makes you feel like a child admitting to stealing.

"It is stealing..." you grumble to yourself, holding the pages close as you get off the bed. It's sad to say that you hesitate to even leave the room, something you power through upon repeating over and over again that you're an adult who isn't scared of a little scolding. That doesn't stop you from thinking of excuses of why you took these in the first place while at the same time trying to say that it isn't a big deal.

Taking your sweet time in getting to Crockett's office you first stumble on Palmer in the living room. Head titled back against the chair she's slumped back in Palmer sleeps rather soundly while a small, personal radio sits next to her. The voices talking from it are hushed and far too mixed with static for it to be worth listening to but it has to be the only station she could even reach from in here. The jumble of noise is just low enough to make it easy to ignore or, apparently, easy to fall asleep to.
She remains napping in place as you leave her behind to go to your original destination. The door remains propped open with a box of files, letting you stand at the entrance and look in.

"-that's all you need to do."

Crockett sits at his desk with phone at hand, his free hand rubbing anxious circles against his temple as he stares at his desk. He doesn't initially notice you, only looking up after you start to wave to bring his attention back up to you.

"Del- Hold on..." he whispers to you with a hand over the receiver, continuing his conversation soon after. The chair he sits in spins to turn his back to you and his voice lowers almost to a whisper. "If it doesn't turn out exactly as I wrote it down for you then leave but other than that you need to follow the notes I gave you. All it takes it ten, fifteen minutes at most and then that's all for today..."

You wait by patiently, trying not to look like your eavesdropping too much. Not that Crockett is going to let anything important slip, all you can tell is that he's doing a lot of the talking and reminding whoever is on the other end to follow directions that he'd given. There's the urge to hide the pages behind you whenever Crockett turns towards you again. The phone clicks back into place and both hands come to rub at his temples.
"Are you busy right-" you start to ask, both you and Crockett jumping as the phone cuts you off.

"A few minutes," he apologizes before answering the phone. It's not much longer before you start to hear, "We've been taking care of her." The tone in his voice is annoyed and you can easily start to guess who he might be talking to. Being polite you back away from the door, enough to make him think he's got privacy again. You begin to wonder how Brandi has been since you left her last night and where she currently is. Still here, you know that, and you try to think of where they would have put her.

"You're really not going to just give us the money back?" Crockett has gone from annoyed to agitated, drawing your attention back towards the room. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone- yes, we can keep her here till we get the money back. You really wanna know that your kid was born like this?"

From what you've been able to tell there's not going to a baby born for a few more months and you can't imagine keeping her here that long. It's a lot of money on the line sure, but with everything else on his plate you wonder why they haven't given up on receiving the full amount back.

"I'll let you talk with her once we start reaching some kind of agreement here."

He sounds cruel like this, cold and unmoving. It really drives home the point that he used to work with the police, that the friendly approach he takes with you is all a facade.

The yawn that echoes out announces Palmer's arrival at the hall, her motions slow and groggy as she starts to approach you. "What's- yawn, what's up?"

As politely as possible you motion for her to hush and meet her halfway in the hall. Whispering you tell her, "Mr. Crockett is on the phone right now."

"Oh," she yawns before snapping to attention. "Oh. Yeah, alright. Let's not bother him right now."

You nod in agreement, following her back to the living room so that he can talk about the hostage- a word that makes you recoil, knowing that's what Brandi is- freely and without any outside distraction.

"Didn't mean to nod off like that. Guess I got a bit too comfortable-" Palmer yawns again, looking down at you as she pushes the stray hairs from her face. "What you got there?"

"Hm?" you start to ask before remembering the papers you have in hand. While she's told more than you are, she has to be you'd think, you aren't sure if Palmer knows everything. The problem with you and blood isn't something she knows, or at least you're pretty sure she doesn't. If you're going to be scolded for taking these papers in the first place you wouldn't want to make it worse by accidentally giving away information you aren't supposed to.

She might know 'Ross Sutton' too though, which means she might know any important information regarding him or the work he was doing.

Explain to Palmer what they really are or act like it's nothing important?
>Tell her its nothing.
I don't feel comfortable just giving out info that was for Crokett.
I'm sure if he wanted her to know he'd tell her later.
Trying not to cringe when you fold the papers in half you quickly stuff them away into a pocket. "Nothing, they're just things I was writing to pass the time."

"Aw, a little writer huh?" Palmer grins, "I didn't expect that, you should let me read some of your stuff."

Your face heats up despite the lie as you wouldn't really want to hand over anything you made either.

"I um..." instead of giving an answer you go silent.

"Aw come on, there's no need to be all shy about it."

Looking for anything to dig you out of this hole you point at a lock of hair sticking out at a strange angle. "Oh um, I think your ponytail got messed up when you were asleep."

"Ah man, you saw that?" Removing the band keeping the rest of her hair in place Palmer gets to work in smoothing out her bedhead, "Very unprofessional of me, let me just say."

"It's fine, I nap when I get bored here too," you admit before adding much quieter, "So a lot lately..."

Palmer nods with a tight frown on her face. "I don't know how long it'll actually keep you entertained but we'll get you those keys." It goes without saying that it'll have to be after Crockett finishes his call and you wait in the hallway patiently with the female officer. His voice barely makes it out to the hallway and you certainly can't make out any of his words but you don't hold your breath on the call ending well. Silence comes only a bit after, both of you remaining in place just to be sure.

"Pretty sure their call ended and Ace didn't come running out here all pissed off so-" Gesturing back towards the office Palmer starts to walk over first. You follow her with heavy footsteps and attempt to ignore the feeling of the papers shuffling about in your pocket. You're so lost in the anxiety of handing them back that you don't notice when Palmer looks back at you with pity on her face.

You let her enter the office first, taking notice of how easy it was for her to just walk in and greet Crockett.

"Busy Ace?" she finds one of the few open spaces to stand with enough room to pull you with, her hands waiting on your shoulders.
"At this second?" he asks with a sigh, pulling out a bottle of dark alcohol to take a long. hard drink from. Smiling through his grimace he replies, "No, not at this very moment."

"Good! Good, Delilah just had a quick question for you." Her bluntness catches you completely off guard, enough so that Palmer has to nudge you a few times to make you speak up. Crockett waits at his desk while trying to hide away his bottle secretly.

You feel the papers and consider getting that over with but find your voice stuck, letting you look back at Palmer and realize now is a bad time to. "I... I wanted to know if you could unlock one of the rooms for me!"

The smile on his face drops as he raises an eye at this. "Which room?"

"Just one of the ones being used for storage right now," your fingers cross behind your back as you talk, "I just thought it would be interesting to look through some of the stuff that got packed up from here, that's all."

It's painfully obvious that Crockett doesn't like that idea, gritting his teeth through the suggestion. "I don't know, there's just a lot of boxes full of stuff that I'm not entirely sure of still. If you end up finding something dangerous-"

"Like what?" cuts in Palmer as she kneels down enough to meet your height, "We just celebrated her birthday, you should know that she's not a little kid. I'm sure she can handle herself if there turns out to be a gun packed away or, if we're lucky, a bottle of really nice wine. I mean just look at her Ace, this poor girl is bored out of her mind most of the time and the one time she gets to go out things go crazy. I'm sure you can find it in your heart to unlock one little door for her, yeah?"

When you take notice of Palmer's lip pouting out you quickly follow suit, both of you looking up at him with sad, begging expressions. Crockett's teeth grit harder together but it doesn't take long for him to pull out the ring of keys from the desk drawer. "Alright but I have to approve of the room first, got it?"

"Great!" With a quick pat on the back Palmer turns to leave the room. "You two get to that, I've gotta check up on our guest of honor to make sure she hasn't tried to gnaw her way outta the cuffs."
You really wish she would stay and you start to think about ways you could make her stay. The clink of keys from behind tell you that it's too late now and that you're going to have to go with him alone. "Let's go see which room you're talking about," he says and waits for you to lead the way. In the quiet walk down the hall you can't help steal looks over at him and think about the short time you've known him. He's gotten mixed up in your mess, saved your life, kissed your mother, dragged you out in the middle of some shady deal that went horribly wrong- you start to wonder if you'll always have to be used to these unexpected events.

"This one." You double check to make sure this is the correct door before pointing it out, looking quickly between it and Crockett while trying to keep the pitiful twinge to your words. "You know, if it's not too much trouble."

"This one... I'm not too sure what's all in here but..." The ring of keys are held up as he begins to contemplate your request. "Why this room anyways, did you get in here before?"

"No, nothing like that." You watch as he slowly begins to shift through the different shades of metal in, what you hope, is the search for the matching one. When I talked to grandma she mentioned that this used to be my dad's room and I just thought it would be nice to see it too."

At mention of your father the keyring droops in his hand and clink together, mixing up with each other and losing any progress made. Crockett doesn't let that moment linger long and starts searching through them again with a more nervous speed. "Right, of course. Course you just wanted to see your dad's room. Should've just told me that's what it was."

He's trying hard to sound calm and collected like he usually is but you managed to hit some kind of nerve.

Crockett and your mother used to be friends when they were younger, you know that much. You also know that she got pregnant with you and married during that time and, while it's still confusing as hell, you know there's some kind of strange friendship there. Between him and your father though, that's something you have to wonder about now.

Try to ask Crockett about his relationship with your father?
Might be better to let sleeping dogs lie, at least for now. No sense in rooting around in poorly-healed wounds.
It’s when you reach the bottom frame that you finally find a photo left behind. The smallest of the bunch, it’s silver round shape fits in your palms well. When Crockett notices you staring he takes a glance over your shoulder.

A man and woman stand posed with their young son between them, the boys both sharing the same dark features.

“Is that...?”

“That’s my dad,” you nod with a finger pointing to the boy. “I’m pretty sure anyways, this looks just like grandma- except her hair isn’t gray yet. And then that would be my grandpa right there.” Looking at the family you’d almost find it hard to believe that they could have their work in any dirty dealings, at least you would if you weren’t currently staying in their safe house.

“I can see why everyone says you look like him.” He pushes himself back up and begins stepping back from you, “I need to get back to what I was doing. If you see anything dangerous or weird just ah, just please don’t get hurt. Come find me or Palmer and-”

“I won’t do anything dangerous,” you promise.

“Right, okay. Have fun and when you’re done in here just close the door and lock it behind you if you would. This whole hallway is going to freeze over if we leave it open too long.”

You nod and carefully set aside the picture frame, replacing the blank ones back into the box neatly. With this you take your time, listening as the footsteps of Crockett begin to disappear somewhere behind. With the box refilled you pick up the small silver frame, looking closer at the image. There’s something drawing you back to the photo and you just can’t quite put your finger on it, something you can’t help but kick yourself for not being able to place. When you take a closer look at your father and catch a glimpse of your reflection in the glass you’re left with an odd feeling, choosing to leave the picture resting on top of the box for now.

Keeping an eye on the door you walk over like you’re going to examine some more of the boxes, peering into the lines of canned food that Crockett had been going through too. Really you’re making your way over to where your grandmother had mentioned, trying to scan the floor.

A short draft of freezing air hits your ankle and though you initially kneel down to see where the source is coming from you come across the floorboards she had mentioned.

They do look different than the rest- not so much so that you’d have thought about it twice otherwise. It’s difficult to pry up the floor with chilled fingers but they do give way, popping off and allowing you to place the wood aside.

The space beneath the floor had been built there purposely, concrete creating a cubby just large enough to contain the black safe. Assuring that you really are still alone you reach in and begin turning the dial, trying to remember how it had been told to you.
After a few tries you figure it out and finally hear the click of the unlock. With bated breath you pull up on the small but heavy door, feeling in for the contents inside.

Your fingers brush against a familiar shape, cold metal that sends a shiver down your spine. With both hands you pull out a gun, immediately checking the safety to ensure that it’s not about to go off. With a bit of struggle you manage to check check the chamber, finding it loaded and you assume ready to go. Not that you can really check it at this moment but you’ll have to trust your grandmother on it. Making sure it’s pointed away from yourself the gun is set aside so that you can see what else rests inside.

A manilla envelope comes next, thick and filled as much as it can take. This only gets a brief look inside, there’s a lot of boring documents filled of black text far too condensed for you to read. There’s a few that stand out- a marriage certificate you pull out catches your eye, the information you skim over just confirming that your grandparents had indeed been married. You slide it back in carefully, really hoping that you don’t need to read every bit of information inside anytime soon.

Another envelope waits inside, smaller but thicker than the previous. A string keeps the packing bound around it tightly and with a firm tug it pulls away, revealing the stack of cash hidden inside. A mix of twenties, fifties, and the occasional hundred you count out a thousand and three hundred dollars, probably the most amount of money you’ve held before. You rewrap the bills the best as you can, not quite getting it as neat and tidy as they’d originally been. It’ll have to do for now and you fish inside to see what’s left.

A small ring of keys find your reach next, connected with a short piece of paper. You can recognize one as being a car key and the other looks to belong to some kind of lock, not quite a house key. The strip of paper has the number #12 written across in the nice and neat handwriting of your grandmother, followed by an address.It’s nothing you recognize though you doubt this is anywhere near her house.

The safe looks empty now but one more reach in reveals a dark bag still waiting in the bottom. It’s far heavier than you expected, the contents inside echoing loudly inside when it slips from your grip.

“Shh…” you whisper beneath your breath, really not needing anyone to walk in at this moment. It doesn’t take long for the bag to come rest in your lap and the drawstrings come loose, giving you access to the contents inside.
The first thing you pull out is a coin, far different than the ones you see every day. Golden, a portrait of a man on one side and some kind of deer on the flip side, you don’t recognize what it is. The words ‘South Africa’ stand out, as does the year ‘1963’. You look through the rest of the bag and find a total of ten coins, along with the a jeweled necklace and two rings. There’s no instructions left inside with these, you have no idea what they are for or what you should do with them.

With nothing else to look at you place everything back inside the safe as it had been before, the gun coming to rest last on top of it all. The door fall close and locks, the floorboards coming to cover it all up once again.

“Okay…” you mutter while standing, “I did it. I don’t know what to do with them but I did it.”

The room has you freezing at this point and you’re ready to go, but making your way back to where the photo waits you once again feel the draft against your ankle. This time though, you feel the bend of the floorboards beneath.

Unable to think of anytime you felt a draft come from the floor before you kneel down, trying to find the exact source for it. Your hand travels along the cracks of the wood, stopping whenever a steady source of cold air hits your palm. It escapes through a rather big gap between boards, one that looks rather strange the more you look at it.

It’s tough but you manage to dig your fingers into the gap and begin prying. It seems like your hunch is wrong at first but with just enough force you find the boards starting to actually lift up.

What comes up is a much larger section than what had covered the safe,the floorboards kept together in one piece rather than the smaller sections from earlier.

At first you fear that you had just broken the floor. Part of the floor rests in your hands yet there’s only a dark hole waiting beneath, yet a closer inspection shows that this had been intentional.

A couple feet deep, concrete paves the wall and floor in the space. It’d be enough for you to stand inside and, if you were to kneel down, would allow you to go through the short hole built into one of the sides. A stronger rush of air comes from this smaller passage though you can’t tell where it leads to, not from where you’re standing anyways.

“She didn’t mention anything about this…” you look around again, knowing that you are still alone with this discovery. While it’s dark down there it does look big enough for someone to go through- at least someone like you.

>Investigate the passage?
Maybe when we have a flashlight. Maybe it's a secret passage like at the theater, maybe there are openings in other rooms.

Sneaky, sneaky grandpappy.
>Investigate the passage?
Well YEAH, what are we gonna do,NOT investigate?
anyone wanna take bets on what type of illegal drugs are at the end of this dank rainbow?

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