Snippet #2437475

"Astral. Astral Morningwood. And you would not believe me even if I told you..." answered the boy, who began looking around the establishment as he continued. "You are a detective right? Well, I guess you might believe me now. Let me ask you something. The entire time you were here, did you hear anyone order a steak?"

"..." That was not something he was actively listening to, but come to think of it, he hadn't heard any order from the people who just received one. There was this woman who had ordered tea, if he recalled correctly, and someone ordered a chicken sandwhich. But no, there was nothing about steak in his memories. Though... now he wanted one. Or did. His appetite suddenly changed as he saw his best friend approaching, only to be stabbed by one of the people now holding a steakknife.

"NO! WE DIDNT EVEN NAME HIM YET WTF!" shouted James, who could only watch his friend fall limp and lifeless to the floor, the men staring at James and the boy without so much as a second glance to his recently deceased friend and partner. He wasn't entirely sure what the hell to think -- there was too much to think at once. He was sad, angry, confused and frightened all at once. James wasn't entirely sure that this was even happening for a moment, but even still, his hand dropped to his side as he retrieved his firearm hidden underneath his shirt. His friend was just brutally murdered in front of him, and they locked their eyes on James and the boy next, so something was obviously up with him and this whole situation. The colorless pupils said as much to him, but so did the figure that appeared seemingly from nowhere.

"Hello Astral. It isn't nice to hide from me". it teased before suddenly disappearing and being replaced by a shotgun-wielding waitress.

"Astral, get down!" James ordered as, without further provocation necessary, he fired a shot towards the waitress while pushing his one piece of the puzzle forcefully down so that he wouldn't be hit by the lead that was sure to begin flying, and joined as well as he kept his head down.

Just what was happening? Today, James had just been talking with his best friend, now he's dead on the floor just a few feet away, surrounded by knife-wielding murderers and a waitress who probably wanted to show them what buckshot looks like fired from close range into their faces. Either way, with his position and small weapon, things didn't seem to be good or understandable for James De Santa.