>>6013758
Beautiful art; Taxi Driver mode....

Just as a warning to anyone participating, this quest is probably going to be a short one-shot. It likely won't be more than 100 replies long, and is mostly just me trying to get a feel for writing again.

>>6013758
>A taxi is speeding down the road, breaking through the uniformity of the traffic and accelerating until the city lights are a blur. The implication of a chase is there but you, the driver, have nothing but the desire to speed up in your mind [Hard Mode]

>>6013758
>Beneath a bridge there is a small fire, and around it gather some men telling tales. You can feel the crisp air against your skin [Average Mode]

>>6013760
>>6013777
>Taxi Driver

>>6013782
>Under the Bridge

Writing.

The world speeds ahead...

You can hardly feel your hands as you grasp onto the steering wheel, the white of your knuckles clearly seen. As the taxi swerves forward between cars and past red lights, you can't hear anything other than the sound of your own heartbeat. Colors dance around the edges of your vision like stars in the sky.
Despite all of this, the fogginess in your mind is starting to clear somewhat.

You almost jolt from surprise, realizing that:

>You are delivering something to someone. The details escape you, your precious cargo is in your trunk. You have a general idea on where to go and where you are.
>There is a man in the back seat. He is impatiently tapping his fingers against the armrest. An impatient frown threatens to increase the wrinkles on his face. You have a general idea of what you're doing and why you're here.
>The where, the why, the what, and the how is unimportant. Your grip loosens a bit, and your mind clears some more, feeling alive and in the clouds. You have a general idea as to who you are.

>>6013957
>You are delivering something to someone. The details escape you, your precious cargo is in your trunk. You have a general idea on where to go and where you are.

>>6013957
>The where, the why, the what, and the how is unimportant. Your grip loosens a bit, and your mind clears some more, feeling alive and in the clouds. You have a general idea as to who you are.

>>6013957
>There is a man in the back seat. He is impatiently tapping his fingers against the armrest. An impatient frown threatens to increase the wrinkles on his face. You have a general idea of what you're doing and why you're here.

>>6013957

>There is a man in the back seat. He is impatiently tapping his fingers against the armrest. An impatient frown threatens to increase the wrinkles on his face. You have a general idea of what you're doing and why you're here.

I'll bite, QM - show us what you can do.

>>6014348
>The Package

>>6014359
>The Mind

>>6014456
>>6014749
>The Man

Writing.

There was a man in the passanger's seat...

You remembered now, you were driving someone to the airport. It is your job to take people from place to place, that's how things have been as far as you can remember. This was something you were familiar with and the sinews of your thoughts grasped on to it like a lifeline, almost willing to reveal more.

You take a glance at the man through the rear-view mirror. He was tall, aged, clean-shaven and sharply dressed, giving a the air of a stereotypical, if intimidating, businessman. There was no doubt about his annoyance, as his scowl and piercing green eyes shifted from the side window to the watch on his wrist. The rapping of his fingers could be heard like a heartbeat, mixing with the sounds from the road and the cars.
"I am running late" you remembered him saying in a cold voice. His flight was going to leave soon, and he could not afford to miss it. He had payed you extra to go get there before a noon. It was exactly ten minues before twelve.

As you are about to stop regarding him, he breaks the clockwork shifting of his eyes and your gazes meet.
Do you say anything?
>Yes (write-in)
>No, keep your focus on the road

Slowing down was out of the question, you had a purpose and you would fulfill it.

That, however, is easier said than done.

>Try to seek out landmarks. While at this speed most things are a blur, surely you could find something to help you get your bearings.
>There is a bridge, not far from here. You noticed it in your peripheral vision. It is not meant for cars, but you have the urge to try. Maybe if you cut through it you can save time.
>Go with your instincts. You had a foggy idea as to where the airport was. There was no time to waste with experiments or landmarks.

>>6014804
>No, keep your focus on the road
>There is a bridge, not far from here. You noticed it in your peripheral vision. It is not meant for cars, but you have the urge to try. Maybe if you cut through it you can save time.

Rolled 96 (1d100)

A silent focus on the road is what you sought after in this moment.
You see a bridge, and an idea grabs ahold of you...

You quickly look back to the road, breaking eye contact with the passenger. For all intents and purposes, he doesn't seem to care much one way or the other as long as he gets there in time.

Blinking back into focus by the road, there is a small itch in your mind. Time seems to slow down as you finally make a decision.

Before you know what's going on you make a sharp turn, the sounds of a fence smashing being your reward. You slam your foot on the gas pedal, going faster than you had thought possible in a car like this one.

As the taxi surges through the sidewalk you notice that from beneath the bridge a small amount of smoke is lifting to the air, meshing seamlessly with the smog from the city. You don't know if it's just your mind playing tricks on you, but you think the faint sounds of laughter and speech are caught by your ears.

[1/2]

>>6015412
Yet this musing does not last for long, as the car lurches forward towards the bridge, gaining air. There is a deafening silence as your start to feel your body become lighter.

...suddenly you feel your eyes drawn downward, and there is a moment when you can almost clearly see the small group gathered beneath the bridge. At least five people, all men, surrounding what appears to be a campfire. One of them looks up to see the taxi, expression unreadable.

With the roar of the engine the taxi's wheels smoothly landing on the earth once again, breaking you out of your trance.
You make your way to the other side of the area, passing an abandoned warehouse, tearing through the grass and breaking into the closest road. The drumming of your heartbeat seems to mix with the tapping of your passenger's fingers. A quick glance back at the man you notice his distinctly apathetic and aloof disposition, seemingly uncaring about the situation that just unfolded.

You focus again at the road before you, having the distinct feeling that you're closer to your destination.
A quick look at the time tells you there's only five minutes left until noon.

[2/2]

>You're so close. You can feel it in your bones, all you need to do is keep to the road and you'll be there to fulfill your purpose.
>There is no time to waste. Go faster, take whatever risks you can!
>While the destination is near, there is an itching in your mind that has gotten stronger. It is of a faint recollection. Granted, this might be nothing except adrenaline.

>>6015434
> There is no time to waste. Go faster, take whatever risks you can!
Go big or go home.

>>6015434
>There is no time to waste. Go faster, take whatever risks you can!

>>6015434
>While the destination is near, there is an itching in your mind that has gotten stronger. It is of a faint recollection. Granted, this might be nothing except adrenaline.
What's really going on here...?

>>6015443
>>6015452
>Faster!

>>6015484
>A Flickering Memory

Writing.

Rolled 72 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

Speed calls out to you. It's necessity in the front of your conscience, each risk telling you where to go.

You focus more and more on the drive. Already your mind, like a sixth sense, is mapping out your destination. Red lights are passed more often, roadblocks are smashed through, and the midday traffic becomes a blur behind you.

Like a man possessed, you drive the vehicle with reckless abandon. Your foot is still firmly on the gas pedal.

[1/2]

>>6015521
>Burst through the doors with your taxi. They're made of glass, so it should be easy enough.
Alright, balls to the wall I guess.

>>6015507
More than once you expect to hear the telltale yells of the police sirens give chase as you quickly become lost in the sea of muted lights and colors in front of you. But whether by luck or an unknown force, it never arrives. For what feels like years the drive continues it's course, accelerating beyond your own notice.

Another glance at your clock shows that you have three minutes left before noon.

Memories of a car pursuing you fill your mind for a split second, but it is dismissed as quickly as it comes. You needed to go faster if you wanted to succeed.

As the route extends the urban landscape seems to come to an abrupt end. Yet there at its very precipice, in the rapidly approaching distance you see it:
The airport.

[2/2]

>Burst through the doors with your taxi. They're made of glass, so it should be easy enough.
>Slam both of your feet on the breaks the moment you're next to the entrance. Such force will make the taxi jolt to a stop unceremoniously, but you had done your job. Nothing more, nothing less.
>Let go of the pedal and cruise until you find a good place to park. You're going fast enough that this won't take more than a couple minutes. You feel the adrenaline leaving your veins, jubilation slowly taking hold of you.

>>6015523
I'm still going to count this vote. Sorry I made a somewhat important mistake.

>>6015524
>Slam both of your feet on the breaks the moment you're next to the entrance. Such force will make the taxi jolt to a stop unceremoniously, but you had done your job. Nothing more, nothing less.

>>6015524
>Slam both of your feet on the breaks the moment you're next to the entrance. Such force will make the taxi jolt to a stop unceremoniously, but you had done your job. Nothing more, nothing less.

>>6015523
>Bursting Through The Doors!

>>6015528
>>6015563
>Slamming Down The Breaks!

Writing.

You will slam down on the breaks the moment you're in front of the building. Focus will be had to make just the right timing...

Quickly, you approach the airport. Keeping the speed, the momentum. You were almost there, feeling things closing in. The brutalist and efficient architecture of the place could now be seen in more detail, but you did not care.
Any moment now, it would be over. And you would be prepared for it.

A speed which was not noticed by anyone, save for yourself and the passenger, jolted to a sudden apex. It was one that guided you and lifted you up.

You slammed down on the breaks. The world stopped in front of you.

It took all you had to not to get fly out of your seat. The taxi was almost perfectly in front of the main entrance.
You had made it.

Behind you, you heard a man clear his throat. You turned around to face the passenger. It seemed like none of this had affected him in the slightest, his appearance continued to be sharp and his face unmoving. He was still looking at his watch.

"Two minutes to spare, well done" were the first words he said after entering the taxi "we need more men who are willing to take risks to fulfill their roles."
He extended his arm to you, apparently wanting to shake your hand.
Do you?
>Yes, there's no reason not to.
>Do not

Any parting words to him?
>Yes (write-in)
>No

>>6015624
>Yes, there's no reason not to.
>No
This is some sort of devil contract. I just know it. Fuck it, though.

>>6015624
> Yes, there's no reason not to.
> *Slight nod of acknowledgement* "Captain."

>>6015624
>Yes, there's no reason not to.
>What's your name, sir? What's MINE?

>>6015628
>>6015629
>>6015644
>A Handshake

>>6015628
>No Need For Words

>>6015629
>>6015644
>A Parting Message

Writing.

You take his hand, and give it a firm shake.

As you do the thin shadow of a grin is painted on his lips, and you feel a small business card being slipped between your fingers. The hand-shaking ends abruptly, and the man looks back at his watch.

"Can you tell me" you say, instantly getting the man's attention "what your name is, sir?"

"My name?" he replies. The card in your hand feels like it might jump at you "you will find that out soon."

"And what about MINE?" you almost exclaim. A few seconds pass before he starts laughing. Out of everything he's done, this act of genuine joy was the only one that unnerved you.

"You must not be aware. How interesting," he pauses for a moment before continuing "I will put in a good word for you."

Not exactly sure about what he's talking about, you give him a slight nod of acknoledgement "Captain."

"That remains to be seen, my friend" he says, giving you a toothy smile and a pat on the shoulder. His gaze moves towards the small business card on your hand. Curious, you give the card a look and end up almost doing a double-take.

You reread it:

-
Lucian B. Lightstone - Acting CEO of the Material World

(111) 111-1111

Only call under specific circumstances.
-


Your head shoots back towards where the man was, many questions already being formed in your mouth, but he is already gone.

>Exit the car and look for Lucian. He may be in a hurry but he can't be far.
>Shake your head and make your rounds around the city. It could help clear your mind and make sense of what's going on.
>Go back home. You've clearly had a long day.
>Write-in

>>6015680
>Go back home. You've clearly had a long day.

>>6015680
> Go back home. You've clearly had a long day.

>>6015680
>Shake your head and make your rounds around the city. It could help clear your mind and make sense of what's going on.
Get the lay of the land, work off this nervous energy.

>>6015693
>>6015709
>Heading Home

>>6015729
>Back To The Rounds Again

I'm going to go to sleep then I'll start writing again sometime tomorrow. Voting will remain open until then.

>>6015748
Writing.

Return home. This day has been long enough already.

Above you, you hear the sound of a passenger plane. A part of you hopes Lucian made it to his flight.
You take another cursory glance at the clock. It is exactly noon.

You slip the business card away into your coat, almost feeling like it's burning a hole in your pocket. Then you start up the car again, making the engine come back to life with a hum. There is the distinct feeling you're fogetting about something specific, but focusing as you might you can't figure out what. Once again you dismiss the feeling.

Driving around, occasionally cruising, you notice the oddly calm streets. You would have expected some more midday traffic, but cars are sparse. Eventually you find yourself in the suburban section, where you have the slight recollection of living in. For a moment you think you hear the sound of faint whistling. It picks up your curiosity but as soon as try to strain your ears to listen to it, it's gone.

The search for your house continues, but you can't seem to single out your home from any of the almost identical houses you pass. Nearly an hour passes driving around in the suburbs, and you slowly realize that none of these places seem familiar too you.

You have the impulse to knock one of the people's houses here. Nobody in particular, just a random residence. Maybe a local would know something about you?
>Yes, why not?
>No, there's nothing left for you here.

And you still need to look for your home. But where was that?
>You didn't know.
>At a hotel. At least, it is now.
>Write-in (There is no guarantee you'll find the place you're searching for)

>>6016506
>Yes, why not?
>At a hotel. At least, it is now.

>>6016506
>Yes, why not?
>At a hotel. At least, it is now.

>>6016558
>>6016616
>May As Well.

>>6016558
>>6016616
>A Hotel.

Writing.

Why not?

You park your car in front of one of the many houses, exiting the taxi soon after. After a minute or two of walking towards the house you consider pausing to wonder about what exactly you're doing. Still, you decide to go through with it.

Almost mechanically, you knock on the door a few times before stopping. After a few minutes you decide to ring the bell. Once, twice, then a third time after that.

And you wait a few minutes more. You can feel the ghost of the cold air on your skin. You are about to leave when the door gently opens, a small golden door chain visible. And peeking out of the corner you see a woman. From features you can see she has pale skin, blond hair, and blue eyes.

"Good afternoon, miss" you say to her "I was wondering if you could answer some questions for me"

"Do you remember who I am?" you continue "I am a taxi driver, and as I was passing through this place I could't help but think it felt familiar"

A few moments of silence pass, the woman's unblinking gaze lingers before she quietly says "I'm sorry, I can't help you" before closing the door on you.

You sigh, but this was to be expected. You're tempted to keep on asking people around, but you don't want to keep doing this before you find someplace you can be sure you could go to should your search prove fruitless. You couldn't just keep wandering aimlessly, you had to focus. And slowly meandering about while chasing after memories was an almost senseless endeavor. The always future comes closer, trying to go backwards would lead to madness.

[1/2]

>>6016701
After some thought you decide to book into a hotel.

You enter the building, the taxi being parked in the parking lot of the hotel. It was an average place, at least three and a half stars. The lobby wasn't dirty or anything like that, in fact it looked strangely comfortable if a spacious. There was a clear lack of activity in the front.

You approach the receptionist, her lips already molding into a practiced smile that didn't seem to reach her eyes.

"Hello, how can we help you?" she said in a tone that was clearly trying to be bubbly.

"I would like to have a room please. Single bed, nothing too extravagant" you say before truly considering it.

"I'll find something for you in a moment. All you have to do is sign your name and pay"

The request makes you pause for a few seconds, the lady taking this to mean you're ready to sign your name. She places a clipboard in front of you and offers a pen.

[2/2]

>"I'm sorry, I can't seem to remember my name" she will likely still ask you to write down something regardless. However you don't feel particularly comfortable telling her about this, for some reason.
>"Is it possible to be checked in anonymously?" if something like this is possible the you imagine you'll have to pay a bit more than usual.
>Just write down a name. (QM Note: If you pick this choice you can make a write-in if you want, but if you don't I'll pick a name at random from a list I have)
>Just leave.

>>6016702
>Just write down a name. (QM Note: If you pick this choice you can make a write-in if you want, but if you don't I'll pick a name at random from a list I have)
Johan.

Sorry for not being so active. The QM curse is real. I probably won't be able to make another update today, but I'll try to squeeze one or two out tomorrow.

>>6016716
>Johan.

Writing.

Johan

You take the pen and write down the name without much hesitation. The receptionist quickly takes the clipboard in front of you, then asks you to wait for a few seconds. For a moment you wonder if she will ask about the lack of a last name but if she notices the woman doesn't comment. She looks at some papers on the desk, smile still plastered on her face, and just as quickly turns her sight back at you.

"Alright, everything seems to be set. Your room is the eleventh, just down the hallway to the right. Here is your key and your card" she hands both to you "we hope you enjoy your stay!"

You give her a nod and pocket the items. Out of the corner of you eye you notice a vending machine you could've sworn wasn't there before, and a man wearing a plaid shirt standing in front of it purchasing something.

>Talk to the man. Maybe buy something while you're at it.
>Look at your room. It might do good to familiarize yourself with your new home.
>Go back out and drive around for a bit. There's still some daylight left for you to do one or two jobs left.
>Write-in

>>6017851
> Look at your room. It might do good to familiarize yourself with your new home.

>>6017851
>Look at your room. It might do good to familiarize yourself with your new home.

>>6017851
>Talk to the man. Maybe buy something while you're at it.

>>6017854
>>6017873
>Your New Home

>>6017882
>Man And Machine

Writing.

You decide to see your new home.

Turning to where the woman said your room was, you walk towards the hallway. You have the distinct feeling someone was looking at the back of your head, but it soon fades away. After about a minute of walking you get to your door. It's not overly impressive, a simple brown wood bearing a silver colored plaque with the number eleven inscribed on.

You put the key in the lock and open the door.

The room itself is standard. As expected there is a single one person bed, a small bathroom and shower in a smaller room within this one. A few drawers, dressers, a table with four chairs surrounding it, and a desk make up the furniture of the room. There is a window with some curtains to its side. giving a view of the back of the hotel. It's not a particularly spacious room, but it's not small either. isn't Strangely enough there doesn't seem to be any televisions or computers, however there is an alarm clock.

Do you set it to any particular time?
>Yes, you knew what time you usually got up at.
>No, you'll sleep in tomorrow.
>Yes, set it to... (write-in the specific time you want the alarm to sound off).

You think about what you should do next.

>Go out for a bit (walk around the place or drive?)
>Sit down and try to sort out all the things you have. At least it'll give you some time to think.
>This day has been long. Go to sleep, rest would come easily.
>Write-in.

>>6017922
>Yes, you knew what time you usually got up at.
>Sit down and try to sort out all the things you have. At least it'll give you some time to think.

>>6017922
>Yes, set it to... (write-in the specific time you want the alarm to sound off).
The witching hour.
>Sit down and try to sort out all the things you have. At least it'll give you some time to think.

>>6017922
>Yes, set it to... 11:11
> Sit down and try to sort out all the things you have. At least it'll give you some time to think.

>>6017956
>>6018119
>>6018203
>Sorting Out Objects

>>6017956
>A Time You Know

>>6018119
>>6018203
>The Witching Hour

Writing.

Take inventory.

You take off your coat and check all of the pockets. There are only two items in there, one being what appears to be a very simple albeit strange credit card with only a four number code and the other the business card you just obtained. In your pants pockets you find a wallet bearing a surprising amount of money, a silver sewing thimble, a stamp, and some lint. Annoyingly there doesn't seem to be anything that could help identifying you, save for possibly the credit card.
Taking one of the chairs and push it in front of the desk and sit down for a moment, putting all the things on top of it and hanging your coat. You look at them and try to see if anything seems familiar. Unfortunately nothing seems to click.

Rubbing your hands across your face you get up and start looking around the place. The hotel seems to be nice enough to have left some clothing in the dressers. Or it was just forgotten by the last person here. Other than that everything seems to be reasonably clean and tidy.

Walking towards the stand next to the bed, you then decide to set the time, putting it to 11:11 pm, commonly referred as The Witching Hour. You aren't entirely sure if this is from a whim or if there is a deeper meaning to this, but given the strange things happening today you're willing to take the risk.

You turn to see the outside, having seeing that same back area of the hotel. There are a few patches of green, and beyond that the road and a few commercial buildings. For some reason you think about books while looking at that area, but you can't say why.

However while looking out the window, another thought strikes you.
>Keep the curtains apart for the night.
>Just keep them closed.

It's starting to get dark outside. Is there anything else you want to do?
>No, just go to bed.
>Yes (write-in)

>>6019020
>Just keep them closed.
>Try to read the name on your credit card
Who are we? Are we even really 'Johan'? Do we have a surname?

>>6019020
>Just keep them closed.
>No, just go to bed.

>>6019034
>>6019063
>Close Them

>>6019034
>>6019063
>Bed And Card

Writing.

You decide to keep the curtains closed.

After thinking about it, it's not really that hard of a choice. It would be odd to just leave them open for the night.
Moving away from the curtains and the window back to the desk you inspect the credit card once again. It doesn't have much on it except a string of four numbers: 1746
You definitely feel something of a tie towards those numbers, but how it relates to you you have no idea. The card istelf is rectangular and bears a dull dark blue color, but to your annoyance there isn't anything else to the card that you can notice, not even a name.

Feeling a bit exasperated you decide to finally hit the sack. It might still be early, just barely going into the night, but exhaustion makes falling asleep easily.

>Dream (you may become tired tomorrow).
>Don't dream (while you'll definitely be well rested, dreams could help you find out more).

>>6019506
>Dream (you may become tired tomorrow).

>>6019673
>Dream

Will start writing tomorrow morning.

Rolled 1 (1d3)

>>6020149
Rolling for something in the background.

Sleep overtakes you, yet you feel your mind becoming more active.

The bright lights of the city swirl around, colors and images flash by like bullets. Everything starts to go faster. Images blur as they pass you them by, and there is no sign of stopping. You can feel a sense of purpose emerge from your heart. That is until you feel a sudden halt, and you are brought into a prairie. A sense of calm washes over you, and you can feel nothing but the shifting of the wind. In the distance you see the same woman from the suburbs, her hair now long enough to touch her ankles. She looks at you, and tries calling out, but her words don't fully reach.

Behind you there seems to be the distant sound of whistling. You turn around to see what's causing it, but aren't met with anything except a package. It opens to reveal gold, weapons, and ammunition. Curious, you're about to touch them, but they melt away into the grass.

As you think about these things, the man from beneath the bridge comes into your view. You can make out more details like his beard, or the casual if worn out clothing he's wearing, and even his age, but before you can say anything you hear a familiar laugh.

"It seems like we meet again. And in the most unlikeliest of places wouldn't you say?" you pivot your head from one person to another, seeing Lucian himself. He seems to be in an amiable mood, which is good you suppose.

"I am certain you have quite a few inquiries to your situation. Unfortunately I don't have the necessary authorization needed to disclose that information" he seems thoughtful for a moment. You notice that you're back in the city "I wouldn't worry too much about it. As long as you keep taking the necessary risks, all will be made apparent in time."

You hear someone clearing their throat, and remember about the bearded man next to you.

"Right, before I forget, this is Thomas" he introduces him rather aloofly with a wave of his hands "he asked if you two could meet. I was fortunate enough to have the ability of arranging this. You've made quite the impression, Johan."

Not recalling ever using your name in front of him, and you're about to say something but the world seems to turn and shift.

"It seems like we're out of time, how odd. I was under the impression we still had some left for proper introductions. We shall meet again, my friend" he suddenly gives a smile before continuing "or not. We can never know what the future will surprise us with. That is the beauty of chance."

You open your eyes, ears ringing from the alarm you've set. With the smack of your hand you turn it off.

It's the Witching Hour.

>Get up and look around.
>Stay in bed. There is a chance you'll fall asleep,
>Change into something and go outside.
>Write-in.

Because of work and not wanting to burn myself out after not writing for so long, I'll probably only make one or two updates a day.

>>6020381
>Change into something and go outside.

>>6020386
Totally reasonable.

>>6020381
>Peek out the window, be ready to close curtains

>>6020465
>Out And About

>>6020469
>A Peek Through The Windows

Writing. Since these two votes are similar enough I'll take the liberty of combining them. If there's an issue with that please tell me.

You decide to change your clothes and go outside.
But before that a peek out the windows is in order.

You look around the place from the bed you're sleeping in. It's dark still, save for the digital light of the alarm clock. Stumbling out of bed after wiping some sleep from your eyes, you feel around for a bit until you find the window and cautiously pull out the curtains, peeking outside. There doesn't seem to be anything out there, but that may be due to the darkness obscuring it. A quick attempt to open the window reveals that it's locked shut, causing you to frown and sigh.

Opting to take a closer look outside, you pull back the curtains to close the window and look for the light switch, eyes now more adjusted to the dark but still not enough to feel comfortable that you won't make a mistake while changing (like putting on your shirt backwards). Finding and flicking on the switch you blink for a few seconds, eyes readjusting again to the change in brightness, and start changing into something weareable. You pick out one of the outfits from the dresser; a casual looking plaid shirt, some jeans, work boots and a belt.

Almost immediately after getting dressed you yawn and feel a sense of hunger. You're not really sure why you are doing this, going outside near the middle of the night is not exactly logical. But then again this day has been anything but logical.

Making sure to remember your coat, keys, card (which you still think has some connection to you), and other items, you step outside. The hallway is lit up, and you decide to continue walking down it towards what you assume would be the back of the hotel.

You hear some muttering from some of the rooms. Do you stop to listen more closely?
>Yes. You're curious.
>No. Respect their privacy.

Soon you come to a door with a very clear 'EXIT' sign above it. You push it open and are greeted with the cold night air as well as some more darkness, unsurprisingly.

There are some street lights in the distance, beyond the scattered grass. Things seem to be quiet.

>Wait.
>Explore the premises.
>Go to the parking lot and check your taxi.
>Walk towards the rows of streetlights.
>Write-in.

>>6021398
>No. Respect their privacy.
>Go to the parking lot and check your taxi.

>>6021406
>Respect And Taxi Checkup

Writing. This one might take some time since I've been pretty busy today.

Pass by without eavesdropping.
You check up on your taxi again.

There's a bit of hesitation on your part before you finally decide to go back towards the parking lot. It'a at the other side of the building, a convenient sidewalk looping around the hotel towards it.
You start ambulating, wishing you had a torch or some other source of light that wasn't connected to the ground. While the air is still brisk is isn't as terrible as you thought it was going to be. But waiting around would get you nowhere.

The parking lot is suprisingly tall, almost as much as the hotel itself. It is certaintly larger than you remember. However you're certain that it's here.
These mundane thoughts vanish when you see your taxi again, the back trunk wide open. You distincly remember it being closed before you left. Quickening your pace you look into it and don't see anything out of the ordinary. Everything seems to be in order, yet you feel like something important is missing here.

You open the car doors and look inside. Nothing seems to have been tampered with or stolen. You notice for the first time a small pine-scented car freshener dangling from the rear-view mirror in the car. It's such a strange thing to have noticed just now, and you wonder how you could've missed it before, but you now recall putting it on there a few days ago after throwing the last one out. You shake your head a little to clear your thoughts.

Then you pop up the hood and take a look at it. Everything seems to be fine in this department at a cursory glance.

Could it of just been your mind playing tricks on you?

>You don't have a phone on you, but there must be someway you can call the proper authorities. If they ask about your name, however...
>Drive around. There doesn't seem to be any real damage done to the car, but it wouldn't hurt to check.
>Just go back to the hotel, with the intention of getting some rest. You can start investigating this more tomorrow.
>Write-in.

>>6022205
>Drive around. There doesn't seem to be any real damage done to the car, but it wouldn't hurt to check.

>>6022205
>Drive around. There doesn't seem to be any real damage done to the car, but it wouldn't hurt to check

>>6022242
>>6022318
>Drive

Writing.

Drive around.

You start the car and pull out of the parking lot. Everything sounds good as far as you can remember. Continuing forward the car keeps running smoothly, perhaps more than you would've expected after the things it's went through today. The lights of the city keep blinking, with a maddening tirelessness. The drive around the hotel is almost over, and the car feels fine still.
All in all it was a surprisingly calm drive.

As you're about to park in again you spot in the distance some people loitering about a block away. Although it's not entirely strange to see people up this late around here.

And for a moment, in the distance, away from the bustling, you feel like you should've heard some whistling.

>Go back to bed. You're starting to push it as is.
>Follow the feeling. It's starting to bother you.
>Talk to those loiterers. Maybe you can get an idea of what happened last night?
>Write-in.

>>6023049
>Go back to bed. You're starting to push it as is.

>>6023049
>Go back to bed. You're starting to push it as is.
Maybe we should see a doctor or something.

>>6023049
>Talk to those loiterers. Maybe you can get an idea of what happened last night?

>>6023070
>>6023256
>Back To Bed

>>6023315
>Nightly Talk

Writing.

You decide to go back to sleep.

You stifle a yawn, you second wind going down with your decision to go back to sleep, and decide to actually park the car, making sure that everything is locked and closed before you head back to the hotel. These straying thoughts of whistling can't be healthy, maybe you'll go to a doctor at some point.

As you walk back, you have a strange feeling something is watching you. The street lights flicker, and adrenaline courses through you.

You look around, but see nothing and hear nothing. In fact, things are a bit too quiet.

Just as you feel like you're about to make a decision, however, the feeling abruptly stops like it was never there. And you now feel like anything that you would've seen, good or evil, is likely not going to bother you for some time.

The walk back to the hotel is done at a quicker pace. You go back to your room and lock the door behind you, but you stop as you see that the curtains are open, allowing you to see the artificial lights shine like little stars.

You're absolutely certain you didn't leave them open.

>Simply close them and go back to bed. These little 'things' are starting to get annoying and will be dealt with tomorrow.
>Inspect the curtains and the room before sleeping.
>Grab a snack from the vending machine and eat a bit before finally resting. You don't remember eating much, maybe a small snack and a bit of thinking could help clear your mind.
>Write-in.

Also, do you set the alarm clock?
>Yes, at the usual time. It won't be terrible if you go to sleep right now.
>No, sleeping in for the day sounds good about now.
>Yes, but this time at... (write-in).

>>6023819
>Inspect the curtains and the room before sleeping.
>Yes, at the usual time. It won't be terrible if you go to sleep right now.

>>6023819
>Inspect the curtains and the room before sleeping.
>Yes, at the usual time. It won't be terrible if you go to sleep right now.

>>6023819
>>Simply close them and go back to bed. These little 'things' are starting to get annoying and will be dealt with tomorrow.
>Yes, at the usual time. It won't be terrible if you go to sleep right now.

>>6023846
>>6023889
>Room Inspection

>>6024429
>Sleep At Last

>>6023846
>>6023889
>>6024429
>The Time You Know

Writing.

You set the hour to a time you know.

But before going to bed you inspect the hotel room.

The idea of sleep is tempting, but you resist. There could be something you've missed, especially with all the strange things happening today.

You first began to inspect the curtains. They didn't seem to be out of place, other than the fact they were pulled apart to quite interestingly. It seemed like there were small folds on their bottom corners. But these creases slowly melted away into the fabric the more you stared at them.
Interesting.

The window itself was closed shut, and still as impossible to open as it was when you first arrived here. Save for smashing through it, you doubt anyone would be able to open it for any reason.

Looking further into the room nothing much seemed to be out of place. Despite it seeming to be undisturbed, you decide to give the place a check.
From opening the dressers and drawers, to even looking under your bed, everything seemed to be fine.

Just as you're about to call it, you notice on your pillow a singular stamp. It wasn't anything too extravagant, just a postal stamp similar to the one you already had. You check your pockets and sure enough you find it matched the one in your possession perfectly.

It was certainly curious, but for some reason you didn't care too much about it. Maybe it was an subconscious reaction, or this item wielded a sense of familiarity. Maybe you were just tired, it was already half past midnight.

And so, after simply taking off your coat you find sleep once again comes by quickly.

You're startled awake from your dreamless slumber, wiping a bit of sleep from your eyes and smacking the alarm. A sense of deja vu comes over you, and you look at the time.

It's eight thirty in the morning, a time familiar to you.

>Close your eyes again. Five more minutes...
>Get up, clean yourself, then go for some food. It was a morning routine. Besides you can feel a bit of hunger wash over you.
>Go out for a run. You had the sudden urge to do something like this, you'd get some breakfast afterwards.
>Write-in.

>>6024923
>Get up, clean yourself, then go for some food. It was a morning routine. Besides you can feel a bit of hunger wash over you.

>>6024923
>Get up, clean yourself, then go for some food. It was a morning routine. Besides you can feel a bit of hunger wash over you.

>>6024928
>>6024975
>The Morning Routine

Writing. Sorry for taking so long, I've been busy today. Just a forewarning I might not be able to finish this update until tomorrow.

The routine goes on.

Groggily, you get up and do more than two dozen push ups to get a nice sweat before going to the restroom. Like you'd notice before it was, conveniently, connected to the shower. You actually felt lucky to have one here for some reason. Four out of five stars.
However you grimace after noticing there isn't a much of a change between cold and hot running water. Maybe three and a half stars was a bit generous.

After getting yourself all cleaned and dressed up you can't deny feeling refreshed and energetic. In fact, you feel like you could rush out and speed away in your taxi, running over the freak(s) that had opened your car-trunk. If there were any, at least.

You then decide to find some breakfast. Although the questions of what and where to obtain it are made.

>Just get some fast food. There were many places in this area, you could probably find one by driving around a bit. Their breakfasts likely weren't too bad (if a bit on the cheap side).
>To a restaurant, of course. The experience would be nice at least.
>Grab something from the vending machine and go on your rounds.
>Write-in.

>>6026141
>To a restaurant, of course. The experience would be nice at least.
Was gonna write-in for Johan to buy ingredients and cook his own breakfast but then I remembered he’s in a hotel.

>>6026141
>To a restaurant, of course. The experience would be nice at least.

>>6026169
I guess we could buy a hotplate?

>>6026169
>>6026217
>A Restaurant

Writing. You'll probably get a few chances to shop later on today, don't worry anons.

You go to get something nice.

While you don't know of any restaurant specifically, it sounded like a good place to have a meal. Your stomach seemed to agree with that sentiment.

Leaving the hotel, you walk back towards the parking lot. There isn't much to see or do other than what you already know about, rows of streetlights and what once were dark patches now lack their mystery when the sunlight exposes them. Until finally you're back in your taxi, things are as they should be.

Oddly enough, you see the same loiterers from last night at almost the exact same place they were. While you're tempted to approach them, they seem to scatter after one of them shouts something. Strange.

Other than that the drive goes along smoothly. You're tempted to hum to yourself.
Do you?
>Yes. Nothing wrong with a little song to pass the time.
>No. With the whistling and strange feelings you don't want to risk anything bizarre happening.

After some aimless driving, you finally find something. And it was...

>A high-class experience. Expensive and uptight, it looks like the place was meant for dining, yet there were people clearly coming in and out.
>Clearly some sort of modern coffee shop. Greatly efficient, and probably stretching the definition of what a restaurant should be, it still held places to eat at one's leisure. You saw a few people eating outside with some tables.
>Humble and a bit run down. Designed in classic Americana style. It likely served as a bar at night.
>Write-in.

>>6026887
>No. With the whistling and strange feelings you don't want to risk anything bizarre happening.
>Humble and a bit run down. Designed in classic Americana style. It likely served as a bar at night.

>>6026887
>>Yes. Nothing wrong with a little song to pass the time.
>A high-class experience. Expensive and uptight, it looks like the place was meant for dining, yet there were people clearly coming in and out.

>>6026887
>Yes. Nothing wrong with a little song to pass the time.
>Humble and a bit run down. Designed in classic Americana style. It likely served as a bar at night.

>>6026952
>No, Things Are Weird Enough

>>6027006
>>6027653
>A Nice Little Tune

>>6026952
>>6027653
>Humble

>>6027006
>High-Class

Writing. I might not be able to finish the update until tomorrow.

A tune to pass the time.

There is a small little tune that barely escapes your lips in a slow hum. Four notes in rising procession, then three descending down. While the meaning and origin escapes you, you can't help but feel a bit more focused.

Before you can even think about it, you see a restaurant come into view. Although it might be generous to call this place such.
It has a distinctly classical styled, yet this seemed to be more of a leftover from another era than any type of design by the current owners. It might've given out a more nostalgic air if it weren't for the many small patches that showed the modernity of the place. A flickering neon sign with the words Dan's Grill on full display, the effect less impressive due to the daylight.

Putting more concern into a food source rather than thinking too deeply about aesthetics, you drive closer. There seemed to be a surprising amount of trucks in the area. It looked like business was good for a place so tucked away from most of the city.

Before you get too close you see a man stumbling outside the place.

It was almost surreal seeing him, he donned ten-gallon hat and a large mustache. His entire appearance practically screamed Look at me, I'm a cowboy. With a grunt he dusts off his clothes and straightens himself out before walking towards the back of the place without much fanfare.

You park, get out of your taxi and move towards the entrance. There's a small pinball machine a bit off to the side gathering dust.

>Step inside and see what's happening. You came here to order some food, you could learn about and do things later.
>You're too curious. Follow that man. You note his appearance doesn't really match the place's style, but that might not mean much.
>See about that pinball machine. You have some time to kill, you think.
>Write-in.

Sorry for taking so long. I've been swamped with some work I have to do. Unfortunately tomorrow I'll probably be too busy/tired to make an update, but I'll likely come back the day after and things should be back to normal for a while.

>>6028788
>Step inside and see what's happening. You came here to order some food, you could learn about and do things later.
I get the feeling Johan might be in a fugue state, but that’s just me.

>>6028789
Thanks for the update, QM. IRL is more important that /qst. Take the time you need. This is a good quest, and we'll wait for a day or two while you recharge.

>>6028788
>Step inside and see what's happening. You came here to order some food, you could learn about and do things later.

>>6028788
>>See about that pinball machine. You have some time to kill, you think.

>>6028801
>>6028831
>A Step Inside

>>6029487
>Pinball Enthusiast

Writing. Once again, thank you guys for being so patient.

Step inside.

You enter and are immediately greeted by the smell of grease and food along with hearing some muted chatter. Your entrance doesn't seem to have done much more than gain you a few glances, but you're quickly ignored by the rest of the customers here.

Appearance wise, this restaurant seems faithful to it's exterior in terms of style. There are many pictures of classic cars and trucks, along with a few stray monochrome photos of apparently significant people (none of which you had heard or seen of before). The checkered floor, and any unused table, was surprisingly clean. There is a small hallway to your left, ending with a set of stairs that likely went to some sort of storage. In front of you was the main dinning area with various people talking. To your right was the counter, it's background decorated with various types of alcohol and unused stools to sit on, confirming this place doubled as a bar. A tall, bald, muscular and mustached barkeeper was wiping the place. With his sleeves pulled up, you could see what looked like a mermaid tattoo on his arm. Above his head there was a menu for food, with a crudely circled Breakfast Menu as the specialty of the current hour.

Glancing at the different tables, you find that they were divided in generally three classes; one had relatively normal blue collar workers around it. Another had some men with torn jeans, leather jackets and sunglasses (giving the distinct feeling of a biker gang, yet you don't exactly remember seeing any motorcycles outside). The last consisted of some people that, for lack of a better description, wouldn't look too out of place in a noir novel.
A waiter and a waitress glided by and went through some doors, too quickly for your to notice anything of significance from either of them, presumably to get more food.

If nothing else these groups seemed interesting, save for the unused tables or the one with a clearly drunk man smiling alone in one.

Everybody here seems like a rough sort, yet for some reason you don't feel nervous in the least.

You meander to the front of the counter, looking up at the menu. Their available breakfasts seemed to have the usual selection:

-Bacon and Eggs
-Omelette and Hash Brown Special
-Pancakes/Waffles
-French Toast
-Soda/Juice or Complementary Water for any made order

You take a moment to think, before looking back at the barkeeper and seeing you now have his attention.

>Ask about something. (Any preference to focus on? If you don't the topics of this restaurant's history, the pinball machine, the seemingly bona fide cowboy that you just saw a minute ago will be talked about).
>Request something alcoholic.
>Make an order about something from the selection above. (Choose what you want to have from the Breakfast Menu).
>Write-in.

Just a reminder that choices aren't mutually exclusive unless otherwise stated and can be combined.

>>6030799
>Make an order about something from the selection above. (Choose what you want to have from the Breakfast Menu).
Bacon and Eggs.
French Toast
Juice (apple)
>Ask about something. No preference.

>>6030799
>Make an order about something from the selection above
>>6030865's order seems good:
>>Bacon and Eggs.
>>French Toast
>>Juice (apple)

>Have it at the bar
>ask about the bartender's tattoo
>segue into asking about the spy-guys

>>6030865
>>6031072
>Make An Order And Ask Some Questions

Writing.

Make an order.

Along with some questions.

After telling him of the food you want to order you slip out your card. He grunts after taking it and slides it into some sort of cash register, jots down something on a slip of paper, then pushes some sort of button beneath the counter that makes a muted buzz before returning back your card to you.

You sit down on one of the bar's stools. There's space enough to eat around here, you figure. As you're situating yourself you see the waiter, a young man with curly brown hair and otherwise casual appearance, wordlessly come by and take the slip of paper with the order on it before disappearing back into the kitchen. He takes out a jug of clear orange tinted liquid and fills a glass with it before handing it to you.

"Nice place you have around here" you tell the bartender before sipping the juice. It was tart.

"Johan" you introduce yourself and reach out for a handshake.

"Ryan. Not mine, Dingo's" he responds gruffly with a shake of your hand, before taking a shot glass from somewhere and wiping it with a napkin. You couldn't quite place it, but he had a subtle accent of some sort "family owned. You just missed him."

"Huh. Well how long you been working here?"

"Ten years, easy" he paused for a moment and put the glass back "not counting my time away."

"At sea, I'm assuming?" You glance and point at his tattoo. He nods before putting the napkin in a drawer "I remember hearing that the golden age of sailors was over."

You blink, not entirely sure what prompted you to say that. The bartender on the other hand looks almost contemplative.

"Maybe so. But the life of one doesn't leave this world so easily. Not until the last old salt kicks it."

"I'm guessing that tattoo is part of the proof in that. Does it mean anything? Where'd you get it?" You take a look at it again. It's well detailed and depicts a realistic looking mermaid holding a trident, her arms holding it in such a way that conveniently keeps her modest.

"Don't think so. I got it with my mates after stopping at a port, back when the fishing routes weren't squeezed away. I was too drunk and young to know the exact wheres, whys, and whos, but I did get it. And I don't regret nothing, either" he finished with an almost proud look.

"I would not doubt it. Especially since you're probably a sailor still when you can help it" that was honestly more of a guess from the way he was talking.

[1/2]

>>6032114
"Not surprisin' you'd figure out. But then" he motions to the people around here with his hand. You swear you could almost see him grin "most of us aren't too tough to guess about."

"Speaking of, can I ask you about the guys that looked like they came out of a detective show?" They really were an odd bunch. All of them had muted attire, some even sporting trenchcoats and fedoras.

"Hardasses, most of them. While they aren't bad folk, there's a split in that table. Some just like the look, but there's a few of them that take to being a 'private eye' more seriously than others, like they're living in some forgotten hive of scum and villainy" he shrugs "they probably aren't far off the mark thinking that."

Before you can respond the waitress, whom you noticed had a striking resemblance to the waiter that came by earlier, comes by and places a tray of food in front of you. You'll admit it looked good. Taking a few bites out of it confirmed that.

[2/2]

>Continue to eat in peaceful silence.
>Keep on asking the barkeeper about something. Some smalltalk while eating never hurt anyone (any preference to focus on? If you don't the topics of this place, the pinball machine, the bona fide cowboy that you saw and the noir table will be talked about).
>Leave and join one of the patrons at a different table (which?)
>Write-in.

Sorry anons for how long it took. I got a bit over ambitious and had to cut some parts since it was dragging on too much at certain points as well as rewrite most of the update after losing a chunk of it. Still not entirely happy with the results but I wanted to at least finish it today before I go to sleep instead of leaving it until tomorrow.

>>6032115
>Wolf down food
>Go chat with the detective-types
Maybe they've seen us before, and can tell us who we are? At the very least,w e can ask them if they've seen anything else unusual... And why some of them thing this place is so dangerous.

>>6032123
Damn, that sucks... For what it's worth I think it turned out good.

>>6032126
+1

>>6032126
>>6032143
>Breakfast With A Side Of Noir

Writing.

Wolf down the food.

You decide to scarf up the food before you do anything else. The bartender looks at you amused, and you both make a bit of smalltalk about the cold weather between bites and downing the apple juice.

After a chuckle and a comment about "fitting right in with the rest of us", you both say your goodbyes as you head towards the table with the people that look like they're going to narrate their cynical thoughts accompanied by stormy weather and a soft jazz in the background.

A few of the people there give you some glances, but otherwise don't react as you keep approaching them. Out of the three groups they seem to be the most nuanced.

"Mind if I take a seat?" you ask tentatively.

"Suit yourself" comes the lightly grating yet monotone reply of a man from by the back of the group. He's one of the people wearing a trenchcoat and a fedora, almost impressively combining a sophisticated appearance with a rugged one.

There are a total of five people sitting around. Four men and one woman. They all have somewhat old fashioned appearances, save for one man who ironically seemed to be the senior amongst them. They range from having the full appearance of a detective down, to wearing what could be described as 'not exactly modern while still keeping that classical feeling'. A definite constant were the muted colors.

You grab an unused seat from an empty table and smoothly bring it to theirs. You notice that they're all drinking cups of coffee. Yet you're pretty sure that item wasn't in the menu.

There seems to be varying attention given to you now. Although a few of them were still distracted looking at newspapers or reading some books.

>Attempt to break the ice with some smalltalk.
>Ask them directly for some help in figuring out who you are (act as if this were a puzzle for them to figure out or make it a serious issue?)
>Introduce yourself to them first and foremost. They will likely introduce themselves too.
>Write-in.

>>6033032
>Introduce yourself to them first and foremost. They will likely introduce themselves too.
then...
>Attempt to break the ice with some smalltalk.
"Weird town, huh? been seeing a lot more weirdness lately... You notice that, too?"

>>6033078
+1

>>6033078
>>6033118
>Introductions And Ice Breakers

Writing.

You introduce yourself.

"My name is Johan" you begin by telling your name. Or at least the name you were going by as of now.

The introduction was at fist met with silence, and a few eyes scrutinized you deeply.

"Jamesfield" the man in the back that had initially spoken broke the silence, still speaking in that same monotone voice. You realized there was a bit of tension in the air, or maybe these people were normally this intense "over there is Lady" he motioned to the only woman in the group, she was reading a titleless book, barely paying attention to her surroundings "Mike and Albin" a quick wave from the unfortunately short yet burly man and the most senior of the lot nodded his head, respectively "then there's Arnold, but we all call him Shapes" the man in question smiled lightly.

Now that introductions were over, for a split second you felt like things were going to slip back into quiet calmness as they all retreated back into their thoughts. You'd see about that.

"So, then" you began again "weird town, huh? been seeing a lot more weirdness lately... You notice that, too?" you hoped that had been a good ice breaker. At least it should get them talking.

"It's like a cup of coffee, bitter and black. But like any caffeine it gives you a wake up kick" Jamesfield replied.

"You haven't seen the worst of it, son" Albin stated, his wrinkly face speaking volumes more than his words. You weren't exactly sure if it was you or Jamesfield he was talking too "you'll get more than a kick for your trouble" well that answered that, you think.

"Yeah, but then we punch back, see?" came the almost enthusiastic reply from Mike.

[1/2]

>>6034035
"What I mean is," you started again for the third time "haven't things been a little off? There's a biker gang just a few tables-"

"Trucker" interrupted the voice of the woman (Lady, was it?), a bit high pitched yet not as shrill as you suspected she could sound if she wanted to "they're a trucker club" you blinked, not entirely sure how to process this new information.

"...And there was this cowboy I saw when I got here" you described. Oddly enough this didn't seem to gain their interests.

"That was just Jeremiah Dingo" the Lady once again clarified, as if it cleared any questions about him.

"Huh. Well, I'm not exactly familiar with him" you suddenly wish you still had something to sip "last night I felt like there was something weird in the air. Some weird things were happening all day yesterday. Things have just been off."

"They have" these words came from Albin "but that's just the way things are. You see something strange happen enough times and it's not that odd anymore. It washes away like chalk in the rain."

"I get what he's saying" Shapes spoke for the first time "this corner of the world seems like a magnet for the bizarre. It's part of the charm of this place that bring us all together" he said that last part almost wistfully, momentarily shedding his 'noir' persona.

You had the distinct feeling your words weren't being taken at face value. But at least the ice was broken and you're getting them to talk.

[2/2]

>Try to keep this conversation flow going. Don't force it.
>If they want to see something odd, you had just the thing. Show them the card you got from Lucian, and describe the experience.
>Try to ask them about who you are (be open about it or say it as a game for them to figure out?)
>Write-in.

>>6034036
>If they want to see something odd, you had just the thing. Show them the card you got from Lucian, and describe the experience.

>>6034036
>If they want to see something odd, you had just the thing. Show them the card you got from Lucian, and describe the experience.

>>6034046
>>6034053
>Show And Tell

Writing.

Take out the business card and tell what you know.

Alright, if they wanted a puzzle they were going to get one. You feel inside your pockets and take it out after a few seconds of searching inside your pockets.

"Well how about this?" You then relay to them the events of yesterday with your passanger. Thankfully it seems to have grabbed everyone's attention. After your story is done, they all take turns looking at the business card.

"'Acting CEO of the Material World' now that's a title if I've heard one" it seemed like Albin is the first one to break the silence "he's probably gunning for some sort of power, or he's already in his victory lap and decided to feel around for some fun. Assuming we're taking all of this at face value, of course. Types like him like to tear through things if it helps them any." You'll admit you almost didn't catch that last part.

"I didn't hear anything about a crazy taxi and I've been keeping my eye out for these sorts of things" Mike chimed in this time.

"That gives more credit to Johan's story than not, knowing you" Albin replied with a smirk, leaving Mike to grumble a bit.

Most of the people here are now in the swing of discussion, bringing up and tearing down theories (some more strange and outlandish than others). It doesn't compare to the hearty laughter of the other two tables, but it's more animated than it was before you came here.

"What I wonder" said Jamesfield "is how you don't remember taking him on or dropping him off. You run a taxi service, yeah?" You nod in confirmation "then that means you should'a had some sort of camera. Most taxis do" he finishes by taking another sip of coffee. In truth you're not sure if you have anything like a camera. Maybe it's something you could get eventually.

"Say, I think we should call that number. Could help begin clearing up this mess and then some."

"Come on Lady, don't you want to sleuth around after someone without chancing they figure it out? This is a chance to actually do something sneaky for once instead of sitting around twiddling our thumbs. And besides, who knows if there's even gonna be a clear answer from this?" came the reply from Shapes. There's a few halfhearted murmurs of agreement, and the Lady gave a neutral "hm" after some hesitation.

However the nagging feeling that you were all missing something bothered you.

>Call the number, like the Lady suggested. What's the worst that could happen?
>Say something either about yourself or about the events yesterday, any bit could help (if nothing is specified Johan will give a general account of things, but will withhold mention of not remembering much about his life unless specified to be open about it)
>Unfortunately you'll have to call things off here. Despite everything you still have a job to do. (Do you ask to meet up with this group later?)
>Write-in.

>>6034953
>Say something either about yourself or about the events yesterday, any bit could help (if nothing is specified Johan will give a general account of things, but will withhold mention of not remembering much about his life unless specified to be open about it)

>>6034953
>Say something either about yourself or about the events yesterday, any bit could help (show them the nameless credit card)

>>6034955
>>6034981
>Yourself And Yesterday

Writing.

Speak more in depth about yesterday.

Specifically show your nameless credit card.

"There isn't much else to say except the trunk of my taxi was wide open last night when I checked" you also mention the strange feelings of being watched as well as your dream. The rest of the table seemed to ruminate on it. A few more theories are made, some saying that Lucian might've had someone come back for something he left while others think this could be the involvement of a third party. None seem to consider the idea of it just being a thief, since the taxi was (according to your knowledge) completely intact otherwise. They don't seem to talk too much about your dream or the strange presence last night, other than saying your might've been followed. You feel that could be both close and far from the truth.

"Dontcha have something we can use? A picture, or some sorta money trail?" the one to ask this is Jamesfield after the conversation starts to lull.

After the mention of a money trail you decide to show them the nameless credit card. You bring it out and let them see it. Shapes asks if this was used by Lucian at any point, and you clarify that it's actually your card much to the disappointment of the rest of the table.

"This doesn't help us much" Albin mutters out "these things are from before my time, there are better ways to spend anonymously nowadays. I'm surprised they're still in use. Most you could find about is your buying history once you go back to the private bank that gave you this" you store away that tidbit of information in you mind for later use.

The conversation seems to slowly start dwindling once again, although it's clear the mystery of the business card has intrigued them. They will likely try to find out more either way.

You notice that the blue-collar workers are starting to head out.

>Say your goodbyes and start to head out as well. Best not to dawdle too long.
>Say your goodbyes and go to another table/the bar counter (which table specifically?) Or try to catch the blue collars before they go out.
>Ask them about what they do and their past cases. It could help keep the conversation alive.
>Ask about this place and if they come here often. They seem to be regulars.
>Write-in.

>>6035751
>Say your goodbyes and start to head out as well. Best not to dawdle too long.

>>6035751
>Say your goodbyes and start to head out as well. Best not to dawdle too long.

>>6035785
>>6036487
>Best Not To Dawdle

Writing. Sorry for not updating yesterday, I fell asleep almost immediately after I got home.

You say your goodbyes.

With talk dying down and idle conversation pointing to how nothing much can be done now, you decide to take your leave. The 'Noirs' (as you've come to call them) tell you that they're usually here around this time in the morning every other day, and get lunch here on both days of the weekend.

Although, you could always make an arrangement to meet later at a specific time.
Do you?
>Yes. (Write-in. What time and day? You realize there are times, usually in the area around the afternoon or after ten at night, where they might not be available)
>No. You already know where to find them and at what time they're going to be around this place.

With a wave, you finally part.

You go outside and find that the parking lot is a little less packed than before. The workers must've gone already. You notice the pinball machine again right were it was before, with noticeably less dust.

For some reason seeing the empty spaces in the parking lot, however, makes you realize that you aren't certain what day of the week it is. Given that the blue-collars are going to work, so unless their jobs stretch into the weekends you're fairly certain that, along with how the Noirs were implying that today wasn't a day they would have lunch around here, today was a weekday. There wasn't the usual tiredness of a Monday in the people around you, and from what you've seen there wasn't the exuberance and almost festive character of a Friday, so those two days could be probably crossed out.
But other than idle musings there wasn't any way you could currently figure out what day of the week it was today. You're not even sure you remember what year it is, much less the month.

That just leaves you deciding on what to do next.

>Play a game of pinball. Just one round wouldn't hurt.
>Go into your taxi and drive around. It's your job, so you may as well start now.
>Explore the area. This 'Jeremiah Dingo' cowboy is still on your mind somewhat.
>Write-in.

>>6036980
>No. You already know where to find them and at what time they're going to be around this place.

>Go into your taxi and drive around. It's your job, so you may as well start now.

>>6036980
>No. You already know where to find them and at what time they're going to be around this place.
>Explore the area. This 'Jeremiah Dingo' cowboy is still on your mind somewhat.

>>6036980
>>No. You already know where to find them and at what time they're going to be around this place.
>Go into your taxi and drive around. It's your job, so you may as well start now.

>>6037080
>>6037164
>>6037842
>You Already Know

>>6037080
>>6037842
>Taxi Driver

>>6037164
>Cowboy Mystery

Writing.

Drive around in your taxi. Your job isn't going to do itself.

It's an easy decision to make, you think to yourself while entering the vehicle. The time is still relatively early, you haven't missed much in terms of doing your job. Igniting the engine, the car comes back to life, and you feel your sense of purpose return.

You are starting to familiarize yourself with the roads, however if you were forced to name them you wouldn't be able to. A familiar sense of belonging is coming back to you, but yet again you aren't able to fully grasp it. If only you could focus more on that feeling.

It was then that you found yourself in a part of town you hardly knew. And find a familiar looking man hailing you from a street. For some reason you think he should be wearing a plaid shirt.

>Stop and pick him up. It's your job to do so, there's no reason not to.
>Keep on going, pretending you didn't see him. You wanted a bit more time to yourself.
>Slow down and think about this part of the city first before coming to any decision.
>Write-in.

>>6037976
>Stop and pick him up. It's your job to do so, there's no reason not to.
Eh, it's a living. And maybe he'll know something?

>>6037976
>Stop and pick him up. It's your job to do so, there's no reason not to.

>>6038043
>>6038146
>No Reason Not To

Writing.

It's good business.

You decide to pick him up. There's really no reason to do otherwise, you figure.

Parking in front of the man, you find out why you thought he seemed so familiar. He was the same man that was wearing the plaid shirt you saw in front of that vending machine while at the hotel. You wonder what he was doing here.

The door opens and closes, and he is here. He wordlessly passes a credit card, similar to the one you have but with some significant differences as well as a duller coloration. You take it and, as it were second nature to you, you put it through a small opening slit near the radio and return it to him after a few seconds.

"Can you take me back to Oasis Hotel? Thank you" he says calmly in a way that makes you think everyone knows where that is, while apparently not knowing who you are. That would make sense, since neither of you interacted in the past. At least in the past that you know of. But either way you're rather surprised by how baritone his voice is, as if you expected something different. Thinking these things to yourself, and almost failing to register what he just said, you realize you don't know the name of that hotel. In fact, you silently grit your teeth as you think about it, you don't even remember the name of the hotel you were at. Even the restaurant's or airport's name for that matter seemed to elude you.
Although you do remember how to get to those places, you can't believe you haven't been paying attention to something so fundamental! But you could give yourself some slack, you had been having an 'interesting' day yesterday.

Now what to do about this situation is the question.

>Go back to the hotel you're staying at. Trust your instincts on this one. Besides, the chances he could be talking about some other place should be minimal.
>Reveal to him that you're in the hotel he's (probably) staying at. Either this will clarify things or cause more confusion.
>Try to make small talk with him and figure out where he wants to go while you try to stall for time. You could just be open about not knowing where that is, yet for some reason you think that's a bad idea...
>Write-in.

>>6038906
>Reveal to him that you're in the hotel he's (probably) staying at. Either this will clarify things or cause more confusion.
"Ha, is that what it's called? I saw you by the vending machine when I was going to my room. I'm not going to lie, though: I was so goddamned tired last night I didn't even clock the name of the place."

>>6038906
>Reveal to him that you're in the hotel he's (probably) staying at. Either this will clarify things or cause more confusion.

>>6038906
>>Go back to the hotel you're staying at. Trust your instincts on this one. Besides, the chances he could be talking about some other place should be minimal.

>>6038936
>>6039089
>Revelations

>>6039348
>Instincts

Writing.

You tell him about the strange coincidence.

Steeling yourself and coming to a decision, you decide to show your cards and hope for the best.

"Ha, is that what it's called? I saw you by the vending machine when I was going to my roo-"

"Shut the hell up" a darker tone is intertwined with his voice. It feels natural, unlike the placid and artificial low key it was once in, fitting him like a glove. You can feel the presence of this man, his sudden awareness and athletic skills now more noticeable to you. His eyes bore through the seat and into the back of your head, making you sweat. You dare a glance at the rear view mirror, and see the gleam of a knife on his left hand.

"I don't know you" there is no recognition in his tone "and I'd like it if we kept things that way."

A moment passes before he continues "change of plans, bud. You're dropping me off here. Then I'm out of your hair and we never see each other again, ok?"

>Don't try to be a hero, just do what he says.
>Comply, but not without trying to find some way to identify him. But what could you do? Would you dare ask him about something in this situation? (Yes or No, and if Yes then what and with what tone?)
>There is a sharp turn coming up. You know you're good at speeding up and jolting around the car, you feel like you could somehow use it to your advantage here. There's always a risk when doing what you must, yet it's an instinct that you will follow.
>Write-in.

>>6040000
>Don't try to be a hero, just do what he says.
Uh, yeah, sure. What the fuck? Not gonna' try our luck with a dangerous guy who came up on quads, though. Bad omen...

>>6040000
>Don't try to be a hero, just do what he says

>>6040011
>>6040043
>Don't Be A Hero

Writing.

Not testing fate would be best, you surmise.

You park the car, and with a swift motion the man leaves and silently slips away into an alleyway. It's almost surprising how easy that was. As you watch him merge into the dark you can't help but regret the fact that you didn't do anything, if only to satiate your curiosity. Although you didn't get too good of a look at his face, you would remember his voice.
All in all, you feel surprisingly calm for someone who was just threatened with a knife.

A cold chill runs down your spine, whether from the situation that just unfolded or the weather itself you're not sure. Either way you turn on the heat.

Deciding to look at your surroundings for once, you find that some distance opposite of the direction of the curve you were tempted to run beyond, there's a pier. Paying more attention to the signs and places, you find that it's called the "East Commercial Line". East of what, you don't really know. In fact you don't know much about where you are at all. Another thing you should probably look into sometime.
Beyond the turn itself, it seems like there is a park. Not very large or populated and still retaining the same uninspired form the rest of the area espouses. You can't see the name of it from this distance, although there seems to be a plaque by the entrance.
Immediately in the place where you've parked there seems to be some nondescript buildings, some appearing abandoned.

However with all of that done with, you have to decide on what to do next.

>Continue going around your taxi like nothing happened.
>There is a phone booth nearby. You don't know how you could talk to the police while avoiding questions about who you are and your name, but an anonymous tip might be something.
>Actually you're going to take a break and go someplace (where? There is the port, the park, or any place you had previously gone to. You could also try to look for other specific places if you'd like).

>>6040759
>There is a phone booth nearby. You don't know how you could talk to the police while avoiding questions about who you are and your name, but an anonymous tip might be something.

>>6040759
>There is a phone booth nearby. You don't know how you could talk to the police while avoiding questions about who you are and your name, but an anonymous tip might be something
If only to see how weird THAT goes, and if we glean any additional clues.

Sorry anons, I probably won't be able to make an update today (with tomorrow being up in the air as well).

>>6041796
Thanks for the update, QM! We'll be here when you get back. very promising stuff so far. Is this a one-shot?

>>6041799
Sorry for not responding after so long, I almost immediately fell asleep after making that post.
Initially it was. It will probably get a second thread at the rate I'm going, although that one might be a bit short compared to this one (probably 50-70 posts at best I'm guessing).
I'll probably start it and link it here once it's a bit in page 10.

>>6042212
I'll be there.

>>6040815
>>6040857
>Police And Phone Booths

Writing.

>>6042248
Thank you anon!

Call the authorities.

You park your car in a nearby parking lot and walk to a phone booth. It shows signs of being the holdover from a past era, with a history of use while still refusing to go down.
Nontheless you enter it. There is a small feeling in the back of your mind telling you that the assumed police number you're thinking about, nine-one-one, is incorrect, making you decide to check the phonebook. Sweeping off the thick layer of dust on the cover you start flipping through the pages. Soon you're grateful for doing so, finding that the correct number is three-two-one.

You take out your wallet and find a quarter, feeling fortunate you have one to use. You pick up the phone and dial said number. The bubbly voice of a woman greets you.

"Three-Two-One, what's your emergency?"

"There was a man that threatened me with a knife. I was" you look around through the glass walls of the booth until you find the street you're on "at Pidgeon Avenue, going towards Shark Road. He went into the alleyway of some abandoned residential areas."

"Could you describe his appearance?"

"I didn't get a good look at him, but he seemed to be athletic, and owns a plaid green shirt. He could change his voice a bit too."

"What do you mean?"

You're at a loss of words for a bit, and decide that demonstrating it could be the best course of action "it was a bit like this" in your best attempt to mimic the man's words from back then. You make a gravelly voice, and then switch it to a darker tone.

"..."

"It went something like that" you think you did a pretty good impression.

"Right... well we'll keep a lookout. Would you care to give us your address or phone number to contact you?" it's not completely unexpected for her to request it.
>Yes, give her your address. What's the worst that could happen?
>No, you'd like to keep this anonymous.
>Write-in.

After that you thank her for her time, and you both promptly hang up on each other.

You still have at least half a day ahead of you. But where do you go? What to do?

>Go explore somewhere, or try to find something. Maybe a trip to the mechanics or a shopping mall could help (you could try to find someplace to buy things, go to the pier or the park, or simply explore in general).
>Just go back to driving your taxi. This won't stir you.
>Try to do some investigating of your own. Going back to the hotel and asking the receptionist could be a start.
>Write-in.

>>6042995
>No, you'd like to keep this anonymous.
Never give feds anything more than necessary.
>Try to do some investigating of your own. Going back to the hotel and asking the receptionist could be a start.

>>6042995
>No, you'd like to keep this anonymous.
321... Hm. Doesn't seem to be in use in any IRL country. Where ARE we? Best not to chance it.

>Just go back to driving your taxi. This won't stir you.

>>6043127
>>6043150
>Don't

>>6043127
>Personal Investigation

>>6043150
>Back To The Taxi

I'll give it a few more hours before rolling to tiebreak.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>6043825
>1 Investigation
>2 Taxi Driving

Writing might take a while since I'm going to visit some family.

No, there's too many questions you have about yourself before you can reveal any personal information.

Either way, you should get back to your taxi.

With a sigh you go back to your taxi. Any anxiety from what had happened is already evaporating, and you feel like you should at least finish your workday.

Driving around, you don't see many people out and about. Yet when midday fully melts into the afternoon there are finally some passengers for you to take.
It is mostly mindless and uninteresting work, and you get lucky more than once when taking them to their destinations. Not many were talkative, and that was fine by you. But those that did talk tended too do so a bit too much. The most noticeable of your fares was a pudgy snobbish-looking woman who brought a cat with her, whom she treated with great affection. You had dropped her off at a rather fancy restaurant called The Crown.
You attempt to memorize the different places, ending up with a cursory knowledge of the surrounding area. Unfortunately none of the routes really passed by the hotel you were staying at, or any hotel called Oasis for that matter, leaving your curiosity in that matter unsatisfied. Well it would be revealed soon enough at any rate.

When you drop off someone near a supermarket called King's Bounty, the sky in the horizon had begun to bear a tint of orange.

>Enter the supermarket and buy from there (anything in particular?) The supermarket itself seemed to be very generalized, probably specializing in food and general necessities.
>You passed by a hardware store, Malroy's Mechanisms, while you were driving. You could buy that camera you wanted to get amongst some other things.
>You could continue to drive around in your taxi, but you had the feeling things would start to wind down.
>Write-in.

>>6044190
>You passed by a hardware store, Malroy's Mechanisms, while you were driving. You could buy that camera you wanted to get amongst some other things.

>>6044192
>Hardware Store

Writing.

To Malroy's Mechanisms you'll go.

Looking at the supermarket reminded you of the hardware store, at least you're assuming that's what it was, you'd passed by. It wasn't too far away, and in fact it was relatively close to the dock you were just at.

You feel an odd gratitude at the fact that none had hailed your taxi in the time you were driving there, considering you intended to use it to carry any items you need. You're able to park near it, finding that the store itself is the biggest store in the plaza, though that isn't saying much when the other places are small fast food restaurants and interestingly enough a tree nursery.

The sign describing the store itself, with the name Malroy's Mechanisms emblazoned in a slim Art Deco font, bearing gears and pistons pertruding from it and crawling down to the sides of the store itself. The haphazard and almost pointless way it's done makes you doubt they're there for any other reason than vanity, yet it makes the art direction memorable. Fashioned on the sign is also, in smaller print, the humble reassurance of the store being 'Open At All Hours For Your Convenience, Twenty-Four Seven!'

In front of the store there is a woman giving out pamphlets for what appears to be a charity festival in a couple of days.
Take a flyer?
>Yes.
>No.

You enter the store, and immediately you're assaulted by the various smells of wood and metal. There seems to be a small food court in the corner, with some clearly overpriced hot food being served. But other than that the store looks larger on the inside than out. While you're almost tempted to wander around and look around aimlessly without paying attention, you find yourself focusing more on the task at hand.

There is practically everything you'd expect from a hardware store, along with a few additional items (such as cameras for your taxi) that helped you make the decision to come here. However you can't help but feel a bit overwhelmed. The practical items such as rope, hoses, hammers, nails, folding rulers, power tools, paints and the like sound useful in theory, but you're not sure if they'd be needed in practice. Of course there's more that could be seen, but trying to take note of all the items and finding something specific will always take effort.

>Buy the camera and be done with the place for now.
>There are many things you could purchase here besides what you came here for. But what will you take? (You can list some items that you'd like to purchase, just take in mind that this place might not have everything)
>First relax for a bit and eat from the food court. What's the rush?
>Write-in.

>>6045014
>Yes.
>Buy the camera and be done with the place for now.

>>6045014
>Yes.
>First relax for a bit and eat from the food court. What's the rush?
More threads to pull on.

>>6045018
>>6045021
>A Flyer

>>6045018
>Buy And Be Done

>>6045021
>Food Court Corner

I'll give it a few more hours for anyone else to vote before I roll.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>6045541
>1 Leave
>2 Food

Buy the camera and leave.

Finding a camera you could use was more difficult than expected. Yet soon enough one was found, pricey as it was. You wonder how many funds you actually have, supposing the card you own has a limit to it at least. Another question that doesn't have an answer, that seems to be the standard you figure.
A bit restless from the searching you immediately take the camera to get checked out. Thankfully the line itself was rather short, and the cashier was quiet while he did his job. You're starting to appreciate the professionalism, not that it means much in this situation.

A thought crosses into your mind as you're grabbing your bag and heading towards the exit: Should you buy two more smaller cameras to archive what happens on the road in front and behind the car?
>Yes, it's good to be prepared for any occurrences. With how strange things have been it's not out of the question.
>No, it would be excessive. It could bite you in the future, and it might be more trouble than it's worth in the end.

Outside, you thankfully find your taxi intact. You'd be lying if you said one of the reasons you weren't willing to eat at the store was so that you could install this thing sooner rather than later and lessen the risk of anything strange happening. Although the camera was primarily designed for looking inside the vehicle it could (hopefully) allow for some peripheral view through the sides. It took a few attempts and a small scare after a rather convoluted fall from the camera, but your intuition was able to save the day.

With that done, you try to turn it on. And you say 'try' because the thing doesn't seem to work. After a some headaches it seems to be in operation. You think.

That took longer than you care to admit it did. And thankfully none in the store's parking lot said anything to you about what you were doing.

You feel the flyer from your coat pocket and think about reading it.

>Push yourself to read it now. It shouldn't take too long, dusk is barely here yet.
>Go back to the hotel. You can look at it there at your leisure as well as do some other things, like talk to the receptionist or look around the place. You haven't really done the latter yet, though there might not really be a reason to other than curiosity.
>You're starting to feel both tired and hungry. That's usually not a good combination. Maybe you should pick someplace that you know where you could get a bite?
>Write-in.

>>6045790
>Yes, it's good to be prepared for any occurrences. With how strange things have been it's not out of the question.
It’d be more trouble not to have a camera.
>Go back to the hotel. You can look at it there at your leisure as well as do some other things, like talk to the receptionist or look around the place. You haven't really done the latter yet, though there might not really be a reason to other than curiosity.

>>6045790
>>No, it would be excessive. It could bite you in the future, and it might be more trouble than it's worth in the end.
>Go back to the hotel. You can look at it there at your leisure as well as do some other things, like talk to the receptionist or look around the place. You haven't really done the latter yet, though there might not really be a reason to other than curiosity.

>>6045790
>Yes, it's good to be prepared for any occurrences. With how strange things have been it's not out of the question.

>Go back to the hotel. You can look at it there at your leisure as well as do some other things, like talk to the receptionist or look around the place. You haven't really done the latter yet, though there might not really be a reason to other than curiosity.
Vending machine food is fine.

>>6045800
>>6045866
>Be Prepared

>>6045809
>Too Much Of A Hassle

>>6045800
>>6045809
>>6045866
>Back To The Hotel Again

Writing.

To the hotel.

Driving feels like a second nature now. Despite how rapidly time seems to pass you notice that the sun is already halfway down, painting the sky again in it's daily red hued blush. Looking up at it imbues you with a strange mixture of calm and excitement, feeling a sense of freedom as you're tempted to go faster. In fact you think you could fly and tear across the sky in this taxi if you really put your mind to it.

However your reverie is ended when you realize you're at the hotel, almost forgetting to pay attention to what it's called as you wake yourself more from your thoughts. And to confirm your intuition, it was indeed called The Oasis Hotel. A bit of an ironic name concerning there was such a dangerous person was here not too long ago.

But before entering, you decide to install two smaller cameras to your vehicle. It's a bit of a hassle, and you feel like you might've done something wrong, but you're too hungry and tired to deal with it any further. But if everything's alright it should start passively recording, just to make sure if there's another situation like last night's you wouldn't be caught off guard again. You feel a bit more confident about your purchase and it's long term positives.
It's now late in the afternoon.

You spared a glance at the hotel again and start to walk out of the parking lot.

>Look around the place for a bit. You haven't really seen most of the hotel or its surroundings yet.
>Talk to the receptionist and see if you can speak with her about any strange people that came by. She might know something about the man in the plaid shirt.
>Grab a few snacks from the vending machine and go to your room. May as well eat while you read the flyer and take it slow after these eventful couple of days.

>>6046419
>Talk to the receptionist and see if you can speak with her about any strange people that came by. She might know something about the man in the plaid shirt.

>>6046445
>Receptionist Post-Reception

Writing.

Also I've decided to make myself a tripcode going forward, just in case.

Go in and converse with her.

You make up your mind again and decide that you shouldn't postpone talking to the woman any longer, despite any protests your stomach might have.
There isn't much to be said about the walk towards the hotel. Athough you do see some people walking about, some of which look familiar.

Entering the building and approaching the front desk, you're once again met with that same receptionist. And once again she has that same smile plastered on her face.

You clear your throat, but before you can say anything she begins with that same false exuberance.

"Hi Johan! How can I help you?" You'll admit you're a bit surprised she remembered your name. Then again you did just check in yesterday.

"Nothing much. I was just wondering about something."

"I can tell you about points of interest when it come to the hotel and our services. If you need us to clean your room or know where places like the gym are located, I'd be happy to assist!" This hotel has a gym? Interesting.

"Well no, I was more interested in knowing about a person that arrived here."

"I'm afraid due to company policy we aren't allowed to disclose information about the guests" she said while impressively still keeping that same happy voice "unless it is concerning a relative, commercial priority, or legal matters."

"It might not even be about a guest, just a man that was here yesterday. He wore a plaid shirt and was standing next to the vending machine."

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't help you" she says once more in that same tone "can I help you with anything else?"

>"No, I think I will be fine" this lady is starting to get on your nerves. Maybe that just you feeling a bit tired and hungry, you'll go get something to eat before turning to your room.
>"You said there was a gym? Where could I find this?" You imagine she'll tell you about anything that might be remotely interesting here.
>She mentioned that company policy couldn't disclose anything about guests unless it had to do with a legal matter. That man practically threatened you, surely that was some sort of legal matter right there? However you don't know if she'll call the police or not, and it will be easy to connect you with that anonymous call you'd just made. Yet things are bound to get messy should you say the wrong words.
>Write-in.

>>6047163
>"You said there was a gym? Where could I find this?" You imagine she'll tell you about anything that might be remotely interesting here.
Time to do our own snooping around. I don’t trust that lady.

>>6047163
>"No, I think I will be fine" this lady is starting to get on your nerves. Maybe that just you feeling a bit tired and hungry, you'll go get something to eat before turning to your room.

>>6047167
>Concierge Questions

>>6047198
>Room And Dine

I'll give it an hour or two before I get to rolling for it and writing.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>6047992
>1 Questions
>2 Dinner

Writing.

"You said there was a gym? Where could I find this?"

"I did! I'm more than pleased to give you information about your stay here with us" she says like she's rehearsed and repeated these lines many times before.

"To your left by the end of the hallway you'll find the entrance to our recreational center, where you can play table tennis. Beyond that passing another door through the right there is the basketball court along with an indoor track. And further beyond that there are some double doors that lead to the nanatorium, our swimming pool" her smile seems to grow a bit "please read our guidelines concerning it's use. There are pamphlets by the entrance of the recreational center detailing it. Also the locker rooms are at the end of the nanatorium."

The amount of things they seem to have is honestly rather impressive. Whether that feeling will be retained once you see those areas with your own eyes remains to be see.

"When you mentioned a gym" you began after a second "I was expecting something that had exercise machines, not a whole sports section" you finish almost incredulously.

"We have that too! It's connected to the basketball court through some doors" the receptionist continues with glee "unfortunately that particular section is under maintenance and will be closed off until this Saturday" that was unfortunate. Thinking that, however, at least you know more about the Hotel itself.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" She tilts her head slightly to the right, likely thinking that it would seem inquisitive and bubbly. It comes off as unnerving.

>"Yes, actually..." (Ask more questions? Make a request?)
>"No, thank you. I appreciate your explanation." Grab something from the vending machine and go get some rest in your room. You feel rather tired.
>"I didn't really expect this place to have so much going for it. For how long have you been working here, miss...?" Maybe trying to break the ice could work. It very likely won't, considering what you've seen about her already. But hey, no harm in trying right?
>Write-in.

>>6048256
>"No, thank you. I appreciate your explanation." Grab something from the vending machine and go get some rest in your room. You feel rather tired.

>>6048337
>No, Thank You

Writing.

"No, thank you. I appreciate your explanation."

"It's always a pleasure to help! Thank you for choosing Hotel Oasis, we hope you enjoy your stay!"

You make to depart and she waves politely, but before then you decide to go towards the vending machine and get something to eat. In truth you weren't really paying too much attention to what you picked, and decided to go for a water bottle and some granola bar snacks. A familiar feeling crept up, making you think it wasn't so often that you had these sorts of meals. But before you can think more about it, regret immediately washes over you as you press the buttons on the machine. And you can't even say why. Nothing should be wrong here, right?
But either way after a few seconds you grab your snacks and head back to your room. The receptionist is still awkwardly waving, apparently. You think she might be a bit embarrassed for some reason, but again your couldn't say why.

You enter your room and put down what's about to be your dinner on the table as you pull out one of the chairs before sitting down on it. A paranoid part of you checks your food to see if everything is sealed, and examining them shows that it all seems to be in order.

Eating comes quick, and afterwards you feel exhaustion from your sleeping schedule and all the day's weight starting to catch up to you. Honestly you just feel like going to sleep and being over with today, a plan you intend on following shortly.

You look at the time; it's nearly seven at night. Do you set the timer to wake you at a particular hour?
>Yes, set to the Witching Hour again.
>Yes, the usual hour you get up.
>No, you'll sleep in tomorrow.
>Yes, at... (Write-in)

The flyer in your pocket, now deeply creased, is still unread.

>Read it now. Get it out of the way. Hopefully you won't be so tired that you miss something.
>Not yet. Leave it for another time. There's no reason to force yourself to stay awake.

Huh, I just realized that this thread is about to fall off the board.
I'll try to make the next thread tomorrow or the day after when I'm not busy.

Here's the archive link:
http://thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6013758/