Skylar Grayson's Story

It’d taken almost two months, but Skylar was finally starting to feel like she belonged in New York City.

Well. Almost.

Swearing under her breath, she furiously swiped her subway card at the turnstile only to get the endlessly frustrating “Please try again!” screen over and over again. To any seasoned New Yorker she was an obvious outsider, and no amount of fake confidence could keep her face from flushing a deep red as she struggled with the machine.

“Miss, do you need any help?”

Skylar whipped around to find an older gentleman looking at her, an expression that seemed to be a mixture of pity and annoyance pulling at his features as he observed her failed attempts to get through.

“Oh, um. I’m fine, thank you.” She replied hurriedly, suddenly feeling even more flustered. She didn’t like seeming vulnerable or asking for help, the dumb machine testing her pride as she struggled to retain her last shred of dignity.

It was at that moment that her card decided to finally work, the turnstile dinging and letting her through. With a sigh of relief she hurried through, quickly glancing up at the map on the wall before heading to the train she was supposed to take.

Much to her surprise the subways were fairly empty, giving her a moment to pause and gather her thoughts. Her next class wasn’t for another two hours, maybe she’d sit in Central Park and get a head start on some of her reading. After all, it was gorgeous out, and while New York’s version of autumn was incredibly different than the weather in Florida she found herself enjoying the newfound crisp briskness in the air.

That and the fact that it gave her an excuse the wear the cute charcoal colored cardigan her best friend had given her. Normally clothes weren’t that important to her, but she was a new person now. Long gone were here brothers’ hand-me-downs (aside from a few pairs of basketball shorts and flannel shirts- some habits were harder to get rid of than others), replaced with clothes deemed “New York City appropriate” by Kyra. No longer was she “just another Grayson kid,” she was finally on her own and out of her siblings’ shadows- and according to Kyra, she had to look the part as well if she was going to be “the new and improved Skylar Grayson.” Regardless, Skylar was just happy to be somewhere where teachers wouldn’t mistakenly call her by her brothers’ names.

Getting off at her stop, Skylar pulled her messenger bag a little closer to her side as she hurried up the concrete steps and in the direction of Central Park. The streets were much busier than the subway had been, groups of lost tourists clogging up the sidewalks while street vendors tried to make a quick buck off of knock-off designer purses. It had definitely taken some getting used to but she found herself loving the city more and more every day. In a way it reminded her of home- after all, living with eight other people was a whole new kind of chaos in itself. Skylar loved her family, she really did, but sometimes she felt like nobody ever listened to her. She could have committed murder and gotten away with it, her parents were so preoccupied with her genius older brother’s latest accomplishments or the macaroni crafts her younger sisters had brought home. It was one of the reasons why she’d decided to go away for college (well, that and the killer scholarship she’d received). She needed time to be herself and not so-and-so’s baby sister, time to let her voice finally be heard and not overshadowed. And sure, maybe a city so big wasn’t exactly the most ideal place to be noticed, but it was a start. Besides, anything was better than being the lonely middle child.

Central Park seemed to be the happy medium between the subway and the streets, busy without being too overbearingly loud. Smiling to herself, Skylar walked along for a bit before deciding on a spot to sit. A group of teenagers stood huddled nearby the bench she’d chosen, and she figured that at least she would have something to distract her when her philosophy textbook got too boring. Tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear, she pulled out her book and began to read.

Harper snorted when the southerner got slapped...or tapped...by the SoHo chick. "See, that's what happens when we crowd people," Harper tutted, turning away to make his call, "Ya hear?"

He himself didn't hear the girl's questions or the tourist's response. Nor did he see the blond guy barrel into the tall and, now that he thought about it, somewhat intimidating yet familiar face that belonged to the dark haired dude. As he lifted his phone to his ear (he had decided to call the Central Park Medical Unit, since the bohemian girl didn't seem to be in too much of an emergency), he did notice the girl on a bench not too far away, a textbook on her lap. She was kind of cute...He gave a short wave to her, smiling widely, but he wasn't completely sure she had seen.

"Central Park Medical Unit. What's your emergency?"

"Uh, yeah, there's this girl who looks like she fell out of a tree," Harper explained, "Yeah, I think she maybe hit her head too hard." he turned back to glance at her before reaffirming, "Yeah, probably hit her head too hard. Oh and her ankle didn't look that hot either." He provided the coordinates of where exactly they were in the park and answered a couple other questions before hanging up.

"Good news, chica," he hollered to the injured girl, waving his phone, "Your ambulance is on its way! So just sit tight for like ten or fifteen or twenty minutes." He honestly didn't know how long it would take them...a girl who was still functioning after falling out of a tree probably didn't beat out a possible bicycle accident or an injured puppy or a cat or frisbee or kite stuck in a tree.

A young fellow sat in a faded navy-blue arm-chair in the midst of a nearly empty room, save for the bed and linens and sole chair that made it mostly comfortable if not livable at that. He had the quality of boyishness with his light blond, extremely messy with lopsided attempts at waves or curls or perhaps both at the same time, hair and seemingly mischievously glazed blue eyes. But with his cheeks that could have sliced bread clean, a lean but well muscled frame, and a stillness that few youth as young as he could ever achieve, he seemed rather too serious in turn. His head tilted slightly, giving his full attention to a mousy, brown-haired woman as she spoke, noting things as she went on upon her fingers with the index finger of her other hand, taping familiarly in his ears. “Es gibt Lebensmittel im Kühlschrank, ich habe es mit einem Aufkleber für Sie markiert. Un-…” His mother continued, fretting. He did listen to all she had to say, truthfully, but was tiring of her latest decision to dote on him today. He’d survived days without her being there for him before, this day wouldn’t be any different he suspected. His blue eyes blearily attempted to focus in the vague direction of her voice echoing somewhere above his head from the chair he sat in, with a mild success after years of practice, and nodded whenever she paused to take a breath much like clock-work oddly enough. “Maria, wir werden zu spät, der Junge überleben, bis wir nach Hause kommen. Kommen Sie jetzt.” Came a rough, gravely male voice from across the fairly spacious apartment/lounge they rented whilst staying in New York for new business opportunities across the ocean for his old man, waiting at the door. It was rare his father talked much with actual words, and less hrumping, grumbling grunts, and even rarer he seemed to be trying to save Falke from the fond doting by his mother or really didn’t want his image to be possibly damaged if he was a few minutes late. Maria sighed, nitpickingly touching his shirt by making sure all buttons were buttoned and smoothed out wrinkles once again, before kissing him lightly on the fore-head and departed out of the room, “Wiedersehen, meine Kleine.” “Tschüs.” Falke breathed deeply in relief once the door had shut and the voices of his mother and father departed down the hall, soon disappearing into the elevator he guessed and on their way to the dinner they were attending with other business associates, releasing it with an exasperated but amused snort. It had only taken five minutes this time to get her through her babying him and hustled out the door, which was an improvement at the very least. And she was constantly improving as he grew older, maybe one day he'd have her not blink an eye. Not likely, but still a pleasant thought. Falke returned to present thoughts instead of high day-dreams, glancing with bemusement around the empty room. What to do with his freedom the rest of the afternoon? Humm.

“Otter?” He called softly. In return came the slow, faithful pads as the old mutt walked to the chair its' master sat in, flopping down to lay at his feet, his tail whacking a few times into his shins. He leaned down, rubbing the ears of his faithful companion over the years as the dog pressed his head into his palm. “Möchten Sie einen Spaziergang, Central Park nehmen?” He questioned. In response, Otter made a sound nothing sort of an accusing and scoffing groan. Great. The dog, his dog, was in with his mother on the keep Falke a safe hermit for the rest of his life. Well… They did have a point, he would reluctantly agree on, given his condition. But he really just needed some fresh, or at least not as stuffy air, and Otter would follow him anywhere anyhow. He struggled for a moment, pushing himself out of the chair, currently attempting to engulf him whole with all the creaking and moaning noises it made while sucking him into the material. On his feet, he walked to his small closet, opening the door grabbing a black turtle-necked sweater to tug on over the blue dress shirt he currently wore, imagining himself to now look like a respectable if causal young man out for a walk in the brisk fall breeze. It would do well enough to be able to walk outside in the slightly nippy weather, and come home without a cold, he was certainly eager to keep the doting sessions with his dearest mother five minutes or less. He made his way to the door, grabbing the keys to the apartment stuffing them into a back pocket of his jeans, gingerly shuffling around on the kitchen counter for his 'sunglasses' and settled them lightly on the bridge of his nose, and also grabbed the harness lying haphazardly beside his ‘sunglasses’ even as Otter’s anxious tail began whacking his shins again. He leaned over with the dog’s cold nose touching his hands to tell him to hurry up and put the darn thing on, and it took longer than he (or Otter for that matter) liked; but without too much fumbling of his fingers, Otter’s harness was on correctly and his leash was snapped to his collar. Falke stood up, leash in hand, opening the door with a creak, closing and locking it securely, before setting out down the hall and elevator when he came to it. He dipped his head politely as he slipped past the door-man, Otter thankfully not giving the poor old-man the stink eye or a growl this time around, and out into the relatively crowded, smelly street of New York. In reality it wasn't all too bad, but it certainly wasn't home for him.

The trip through the winding city streets, and somewhat hazardous cross-walks, he met little foot-traffic on his way to the park. Most surprisingly going out of their way of their busy lives (that had worlds revolving around them alone usually, of course) to give him and Otter room as they confidently strode down the side-walk amongst the people around him. He would have liked a little less pity in the looks or whispers he earned, but what was, was. And he dealt with it by simply ignoring it most of the time or by giving them a reassuring grin of thanks and bobbed his head with a faint nod as he passed. As he made it to the park the air seemed a little cleaner, and the honks of distant cars of city seemed farther away than they really were, it was the most peaceful place in the big city he'd found more often than not, a home away from home for him really. He walked calmly, the clicks of Otter’s paws on the narrow pavement heard every now and again made sure that he’d never to stray from the path. Farther down along the path, up to the point where the bench he usually sat down at most days he came here, finding it occupied on one end but not the other. Slowly, he eased himself down into it, ignoring the suddenly sharp sensation of cold radiating up from the material beneath him and was very grateful then for his extra layer however bothersome to struggle into at first. In a comfortable sitting position, he briefly nodded in polite greeting to the person on the other end of the bench, but didn’t voice anything as it seemed with the sound of a briefly fluttering page that she, well he assumed she because of the scent of her perfume or shampoo tickling his nose, was reading and likely didn’t want or need to be disturbed. Otter had crawled underneath the bench to be out of the way of others passing by along the pathway, but hadn’t quite curled up successfully and as a cause his head and a fore-foot stuck out as he lay down – he was smiling in the only way dog’s could, panting from the walk but happy to be out and about. With the dog situated, mostly, Falke had let the leash go slack, leaning his own head back a touch, shutting his eyes, and let stillness wash over him. Yes, he liked this part the best. Certainly it was always fun to go out of the apartment, especially when his parents assumed (and likely wanted him to) he would stay there. But in all honesty, Falke enjoyed the relative quiet of being out alone, on a bench in a park, in the middle of a city that never slept or well, however that saying went. However, he didn’t realize that silence was something that was going to be lacking relatively soon…


-x-x-x-

* There is food in the fridge, I've marked it with a sticker for you.
* Mary, we are too late, the boy survive until we get home. Come on now.
* Goodbye, little one.
* Bye.
* Would you like to take a walk to Central Park?

Skylar had been lying to herself when she’d thought she’d be able to get a head start on her reading. She loved college, loved the independence it gave her and how she had the freedom to choose what classes she took, but these general education requirements would be the death of her. Who needed philosophy anyway?

Dragging her highlighter across the page in order to make it look like she was at least putting in somewhat of an effort, she let herself look up and take in everything that was going on.

An elderly couple slowly strolled down the path, arms looped together. A young mother wearing neon sneakers and leggings pushed a baby carriage with one hand and held the end of a dog’s leash in the other. And one of the teenagers from the group she’d noticed earlier was waving to her.

Skylar paused for a moment, glancing over her shoulder to see if there was anyone else the boy could have been waving to. No, he was definitely waving at her. Biting down on her lip, she waved back, not sure if she should do anything else.

Shortly after the cute boy waving incident (as she’d dubbed it in her mind), she was joined by another boy who gave her a short polite nod as he sat down. He too had a dog, and Skylar felt her smile widen at the sight. She debated on saying anything to him, after all he hadn’t said anything and he looked like he might have been resting, she didn’t want to bother him.

Harper turned back towards the girl on the bench in time to see her wave back, which prompted a wide, admittedly silly grin to spread across his face. Biting his lower lip while still smiling, he slipped his phone into his back pocket, along with his fingers, and turned back towards the tree, contemplating his next move.

His thoughts were interrupted, however, when the white-dressed girl spoke, denying the ambulance. "Am...bull lance?" he repeated, wondering why she had pronounced it oddly. Before he could give it too much thought, the girl had already started to run off. "Hey!" he shouted after her, and grumbled to himself about stupid, artist, hippie tree hugger wannabes and their aversion to modern medicine. Still, there was the other girl....

He glanced back briefly, just to make sure she was still there, and then looked up to the sky. Whistling the theme from "Enchanted", Harper stepped backwards, hands still in the back pockets of his jeans, until he was just a foot away from the girl's end of the bench. Moving only his eyes (with just a small strain on his neck) he peered over her shoulder.

"Philosophy, eh?" he asked, hoping that was really what the textbook was about (he had only managed to catch the heading), "Is that what you're studying?"

Slightly startled at the sound of someone talking to her, Skylar whipped her head around in the direction of the new voice. Her light eyes widened at the sight of the boy who'd waved to her earlier, lips involuntarily curling into a smile.

Get a grip, Grayson, she thought to herself, slightly embarrassed at how pathetic she was being. He's just being friendly, stop acting like him waving and asking you a question means that he's going to whisk you off into the sunset on his white horse.

Still, it was nice to be getting attention for once.

"Oh, definitely not," She replied with a laugh, closing the book after she'd decided that she was too distracted at this point to be productive. "It's a required course for my general education requirements, to be honest I usually like reading this before bed because it puts me to sleep. I'm actually a communications major."

She paused, mind suddenly drawing a blank as to what to say next. She wanted to keep the conversation going but she didn't want to come off sounding dumb. Too bad Kyra wasn't here, she was a pro at talking to boys.

"What about you? Are you a student?"

Well, she hadn't told him to back off yet. That was a plus.

The student question had him stumped for a little bit. She was a stranger....he could really tell her anything. It was unlikely he'd see her again anytime soon. Then again, he had thought the same the last time he had lied about going to college, and it had cost him his relationship six months afterwards.

"Nah," he finally answered, leaning slightly against the arm rest of the park bench, hands still in his pockets, "College wasn't really my scene, ya know? I tried one semester at City College for engineering, but the structure was too suffocating," a little embellishment of the truth...he was accepted into City College on a swimming scholarship, but he never actually went.

"So, communications," he said, changing the subject back to her, "What's that...like, how we talk and body language and cell phones and things like that? Do you end up graduating as like a master communicator or something?" he laughed at his own joke and would have continued if he didn't hear a sudden yelp.

Turning, he saw the southerner jumping up and down, waving his hand. Leaning towards the girl, he whispered out the side of his mouth, "Do you suppose that's a form of communication? What do you think it means?"

“Engineering, huh? Sounds pretty intense, I don’t blame you.” Skylar did well enough in school but science was definitely not her forte. She didn’t know how her brother had survived med school (oh wait, yes she did- he was the one lucky enough to get the brains in the family).

She couldn’t help but grin at his definition of a communications major, shaking her head. “In a way, I guess so. I take a lot of public speaking and writing classes. Ultimately I want to work in public relations for a company- so basically covering the company’s ass whenever something scandalous happens and keeping the customers happy.”

Before she could open her mouth to answer his next question there was a startling crack followed by a loud crashing noise as the tree across the path fell. Startled, a soft yelp escaping her throat, as she tried not to fall off the bench.

“You know, it was great talking to you but I think I’m going to go.” Skylar said, shoving her book into her messenger bag. Trees didn’t just suddenly fall over and she wasn’t about to stick around in case it happened again.

As she stood up to leave she saw something that made her stop dead in her tracks- a black skeletal hand slowly emerging from the spot where the tree had once stood.

“Please tell me you see that too.” She whispered, unable to move or even drag her eyes away from the sight. It was at that moment that she felt a burning sensation coming from her neck, the pain sudden and stinging. Her hand flew to her neck to find the source of the pain, fingers recoiling as they brushed against the silver pendant her parents had given to her for her Sweet 16. “What’s happening?”

Yuki looked on and the commotion and was starting to get bored again. The blonde damsel was leaving the scene and one of the first responders left for another girl to disturb the peace of reading a book. Typical flirt… he thought, rolling his eyes. Is there anything else to look at? I thought there would be some exciting shit going on!

Suddenly a girl fell to her knees, feeling pain on her neck. Yuki tried to focus on the girl to see the cause of pain, but can only see a necklace that she flinched from when trying to touch it. Afterwards, he felt an icy searing pain on his wrist where his bracelet was and immediately dropped down, losing his grip on the camera. It was as though his wrist was being encased in ice. Although it was an icy kind of pain there was a similar sensation of burning, as though it was a cold fire burning his skin. “Arggh!” Yuki grunted. “What the heck is this pain?”

Hearing a cracking noise coming from the tree made Yuki scramble to pack up the tripod and his camera before he missed another big excitement. He slipped his fingers zipping up his large black bag carrying the tripod and his other supplies before recording the fall of the great tree. He ran away from its direction but tried his best to position the camera towards it. His hands shook and he fell back from the impact of the tree, right next to the flirt, the reading girl, and the other silent guy next to them. Looking into the camera once more, Yuki noticed something peculiar. He focused his lens onto the strange object and beheld the sight of a skeletal hand coming out of the ground. He shook his head thinking his camera was busted from the fall and looked around. His own eyes can see the hand and it seemed the girl near him saw it as well since her eyes were fixated at it. He turned to the reading girl and focused the camera on her face, not really knowing what else to do but to get witnesses for the strange phenomena.

“Looks like thriller is on the loose girl. What’s your name and how do you make of this pre-apocalypse situation?”

Initially, Harper thought the tree falling, though odd, might have been the fault of the SoHo Bohemian chick. For whatever reason...he supposed that would make her more of a tree-murderer then...well, actually, those roots still looked intact and hoLY SHIT WHAT WAS THAT?!

"Oh, I see that," Harper answered, already moving away, "And that is my cue to leave....no investigating shenanigans for this white boy, no sir."

Without waiting for a response, he turned around, nearly bumping into some weird Asian with a camera, ducked around and started running, ignoring the paths. He did wonder briefly if maybe he should have grabbed the girl's hand and taken her with him, but he dismissed the thought. She was in college. Studying communications. It shouldn't take her that long to realize she'd need to hightail it out of there. And if she didn't manage to escape whatever was connected to that scary looking black claw hand thing...well, at least she'd never find out he had lied about City College.

Something hot flared around the v of his collarbone. Instinctively he reached towards it, and immediately his fingers seared with heat, causing him to shout out loud. He barely managed to pull his fingers away when something dull bounced off the side of his head. Disoriented and dealing with two different pains, his feet forgot how to move properly and he fell over. When his brain started working again he realized he had interrupted a game of frisbee.

"Punks!" he shouted as he got back to his feet, rubbing his head where the disk had hit him, fingers still sore, "Watch what you're doing!"

"You're the one who ran in the middle of us!" one of the players yelled back, the other player retrieving the frisbee, "What, the rest of central park ain't enough room for you to run around? You have to run directly in between us? Idiot!"

"What, you've got this one area specifically reserved for you two?" Harper shot back, voice pitching in volume, "I don't see any names on this grass! I can run wherever the hell I want here and right now I decided I wanted to run through here!" Harper flicked the bird at both of them, "Frickin' Morons!"

"What you say? WHAT you say?!"

"You heard me, dipshits!"

The tempers flared and voices escalated, and as the three men yelled at each other, Harper momentarily forgot what he was running from again.

And just as quickly as he’d appeared, the boy Skylar had been talking to was gone, not even bothering to make sure that she was alright. Jerk.

She frowned, brows furrowed in frustration. She was mad not just at him but at herself for enjoying the attention so much.
Skylar was snapped out of her thoughts by another new voice, this one belonging to an Asian with a camera. What was with all these people talking to her today?

“What’s it to you?!” She snapped back in response, not in the mood to be interrogated about the freaky tree incident. “Not so close, buddy.”

It was very nearly quiet enough this morning in the Central Park of New York, that Falke thought he might be able to fall asleep. Of course, that was if one imagined the occasional flick of a page of the book the girl on the other end of the bench was reading, the timpani of honking cars and the living, breathing city surrounding the green swath of lawn to be little more than the whisper of static background noise. But he could do so, if he let himself wonder in thoughts, letting daydreams turn into dreams rather alarmingly quickly. And that wasn't exactly the short of "out of the apartment" adventure he'd been planning for this morning, or rather want to explain to his parents if he got mugged, or jumped Lord forbid, while he was snoozing. So, he kept himself awake, alert but relaxed for now. Until the time he got bored, and/or his leg's started to fall asleep, then he'd get up and head back 'home' to be waiting for his parents like he'd hadn't been gone.

It was only when he started to get uncomfortable, and debating about getting up, that sounds of commotion started echoing around him. First, was something coming out of the bush, further along the path but still close enough for him to hear the gigantic rustle of creaking limbs and little leaves flying all over. What the? It was entirely too big to be a stray cat or dog, or one those huge rats that were as big as dogs that supposedly lurked in the alley-ways all over the City - he'd heard that from the door-man of the Apartment the other afternoon, his father said it was a silly rumor New Yorker's liked to brag about and Falke honestly doubted it himself. Rats as big as dogs? No way. And this sound was bigger, and unfortunately even at this distant, the smell came to his sensitive nose of unclean, greasy, and for some reason, 'person'. Ahh, one of those stray persons that lurked in the alley-ways with the rats... Wait? What? No, not stray person. What was the word again? There were stray cats, stray dogs, giant rats, and-... Er, oh, Homeless people! That was it. He shook his head with a repressed sigh at himself, for his lack of political correctness in the English language. Easing the tension out of his shoulders, that had popped up at the first sign of disturbance near him, after recognizing the potential of 'threat' as nothing more than losing a few cents perhaps if she or he came his way. He relaxed again, even when distantly hearing some conversation involving Americans that didn't sound like native New Yorkers, something about a girl in a tree, etc. It wasn't his concern, or really anywhere nearby him that he should be concerned about it. Another person came walking up, steps steady and purposeful, and Falke didn't tense up like he had for the homeless coming out of the bush earlier (he could hear this person coming from a bit away at the very least, and it certainly wasn't a 'sudden' noise). The other, a he he could tell now by his deeper voice, flirting with the girl on the other side of the bench he also currently resided. While it was fair to say that it was common all over, it was equally fair to say that this was more than just common in New York since he'd stepped off the plane. It was likely due to the high volume of people stuffed in one area, he assumed. But still... It was a little uncomfortable listening to it going on right beside him. Jealous was he? No, not really. His sharp, angular features were hardly attractive, and his blind eyes well, they sort of killed the date-able material right at the start. He ignored them as best he could, tightening his grip on the leash when Otter started whining for some reason. Likely, wanting to go lick off their faces, as dogs often tended to do.

It happened so quickly, even his strong sense-sensitivity with his hearing had a hard time keeping up. The conversation he'd so blandly ignored early, had heightened in volume and in earnest. What sounded like a tree falling down, roared in his ears, followed by (he assumed the even odder sounding girl, maybe the one that had been in the tree perhaps, didn't even sound American at all) that commands of a girl - "Go... Run..." Or, something like that. A feathery brown eyebrow raised to be seen over the rim of his 'sunglasses', nostrils flared uncertainly. He tilted his head to share a look in the supposed general directions of the happenings, and then glanced toward the two that-... Well, had been there moments before, but had suddenly taken off for some reason. He didn't have to wait long for an explanation as a sudden screech sounded off from the same direction, he had to fight hard not to shudder at the high alien sound and didn't bother to hide his wince and the shaking of his head trying to rid the ringing going on in his ears. What in the world was that? Otter had slipped out from under the bench, frantically pulling on his leash - barking sharp and fast like false machine gun fire you'd hear in those game stores, movies, and the like. The dog never barked, not even at a cat or the postal-man. Common sense flooded his thoughts, aligning with his Fight or Flight mechanism and picking most definitively flight over staying around all 'this', whatever this was. And he trusted the dog far more with his life than anyone else, save perhaps his mother. Unsteadily he rose from his seat on the bench, wobbling slightly until his legs had feeling returned to them, so he could just leave all this frightening nonsense behind. Another screech sounded off, and Otter suddenly yelped, ducking sideways and bolting, taking Falke with him out of the way. Just in time as something small crashed into the bench he'd been sitting at for a moment before darting or really rolling off near his own feet in the grass, and then something rather impossibly large, the thing those screeches were, crashed into the bench as well. He could hear the metal itself warping, groaning, and screeching it's own metallic pain, amongst the alien screeches of some great beast. Otter had begun barking again, snarling intermittently, warning whatever is was off but really Falke thought it drawled a little too much attention for his liking. Good grief, what was going on? "Otter," He begged. "Come on!" Tugging on the leash, as he took a few steps backward, attempting to flee much like everyone else - even if he couldn't quite run as successfully as most, he'd still walk out of here just fine if he could get the darn dog to come along...

Yuki was thrown aback by the audacity of the girl. He had to shift focus on his camera back a bit before her sassy face took up the whole screen.

"Oh excuse me if you don't enjoy the limelight!" Yuki yelled back. “Or maybe you don’t like being in Sci-fi! Maybe you like being in pornos with random guys on the street! Well I ain’t making that kind of stuff so forget you girl!”

Rather than deal with someone that doesn’t want him filming at the moment, Yuki would rather use his camera to film something that wouldn’t care less about whether he’s watching them or not. After "flirt who can possibly star in the girl's porno" bumped him and ran off somewhere, some strange creature clawed out of the ground. That crazy no shoes girl was back and Yuki was catching her every move. She was hiding behind a tree with something in her dress, eyeing the monster carefully and making shooing gestures at anyone that was standing near the area.

Yuki caught the whole scene in his camera: the petrifying screech of the monster, the pinecone throwing, the chase, and the bench warming—or rather bench smashing—by the monster and its victim. He had to run here and there to keep up and take a good shot without attracting the monster. The blonde victim rolled onto the grass but the monster was lodged into the bench, with the metal screeching and the wood creaking as the monster struggled for a way out of its prison. Suddenly a girl charged toward the monster, branch in hand, and wacked the monster with as much force as she could!

“Damn girl!” Yuki shouted amazed by the girl’s bravery. “You stupid if you think a branch is gonna kill that thang!” Still he had to admit it was some stupid courage the girl had. He was the one just filming the whole thing as if he was the newscaster for Central Park. Suddenly, that thought gave him an idea. THIS would be the project! It was something unnatural! Aliens? Or something else. But whatever! This might be his ticket to his Journalism study abroad! Yuki had to get more information about what was going on, but in order to do that, he had to figure out what that thing was and well…it probably has to die first of all. Then it occurred to him. That blonde chick that was playing the victim was calling out to it…calling it something. Cyclopathia? Cyclops? Cyclosomething? That chick has the answers!

Suddenly a disk came flying toward the monster's throat! Yuki looked in the direction it came from and sighed in disbelief. "Okay I thought the girl was stupid...but she's smarter than those guys who think they can kill it with that weak flying saucer." He had to turn his camera when the monster started chasing the guys, causing one of them to take off his jacket and dive into the lake. "*insert screaming girls because some dude took off his jacket and ran off to the lake.* Okay this is getting stupid. I better get to that chick.."

Yuki hurried over to the blonde girl catching her breath with the camera focused on her. He was wondering whether he should take out his notepad, but he’d rather film the girl if he was going to get some proof of witness.

“Hey you, I know you got something to do with this. What’d you call that thing? Cyclopath or something? You better start explainin!" Yuki asserted, camera all focused on the girl ignoring the fact that she might have been injured.

Gwen had never experienced a hallucination before. How was it that saying went? You're not crazy if you think you might be. While Gwen certainly categorized the events unfolding before her eyes as unreal, she was slightly put off by how realistic it seemed. Was it possible that one could be conscious of their insanity and yet be unable to control their distorted perception of reality? What was happening? The shudder of the earth as the tree hit the ground, the hideous sight that emerged from the dead space beneath, and the unearthly sounds that rang through the air; she didn't know how to make sense of it. If it was a hallucination and she acted, would she end up being one of those schizophrenic murderers, doomed to spend her life institutionalized and drugged? Or would failure to act result in her getting hurt?

What were the others doing around her? Erupting into chaos, apparently. Falling, running, descending into a mess of noise and movement impossible to follow. How could everyone react so confidently? That is, assuming that these people were actually there and not delusions. Though, they all had the right idea. Running was the most logical course of action, especially in Gwen's situation. She wouldn't put anyone in danger by doing so. It seemed, however, that not everyone had the same idea.

Gwen watched as the creature chased a thin, barefoot woman in roughly Gwen's direction. She and the others on a nearby bench scattered; Gwen herself dove out of the way as the creature impacted with the previously occupied bench. Even through the pain of hitting the ground and the sound of twisting metal from the collision, Gwen imagined herself, a lonely, broken body throwing itself to the ground in the middle of a quiet scene in Central Park. She should run--or at least walk away quickly. It was time to leave.

She stood just in time to see some kid throw a Frisbee at the creature. Really, again? This wasn't a movie. Life didn't work like a story. Heroics weren't always all they were chalked up to be. Heroics didn't make you a hero; they got you killed. She watched as the Frisbee thrower immediately regretted his decision and ran away in a panic, which in Gwen's mind was the appropriate reaction. But her stomach immediately dropped as the three in the vicinity of the Frisbee thrower split up, and the creature began to chase the wrong person. This was what was wrong with heroics. It wasn't even that it killed the wannabe "hero;" others suffered for the stupidity of their actions, and to Gwen there was no worse offense. She had to help that kid.

She wasn't as fast as either the monster or the young man it chased. The distance between her and the two seemed to close at an unbearably slow rate, as though the world was in slow motion. And yet, it seemed to take no time at all until she was dangerously close. She slid to a stop as the creature splashed in the shallow water, apparently confused if its body language was at all similar to the animals she knew. She didn't get any closer; she didn't need to be that near.

She reached her right hand into the neckline of her sweater and down to her left shoulder. It clasped metal, and she withdrew a small dagger, only a few inches in length. Both she and her weapon were enormously outsized by their opponent, yet before she knew it her arm was drawing back and preparing to throw. Remember what you were taught. The thought flashed briefly through her mind, but she couldn't think, there was no time. Driven by muscle memory alone, the small piece of metal flashed through the air and toward the monster.

It hit the creature directly in the back of its deformed skull. Gwen experienced a moment of victory as she witnessed its trajectory playing out exactly where she aimed it. She was treated to an unpleasant surprise when it merely bounced off the skull and flew directly into the lake. She took a step back. Shit. Who was the idiot now? Another step. The creature turned slightly. Fuck. What was it she had just been thinking about heroics? Gwen turned and ran, more or less back in the direction she came. Better late than never. Actually that wasn't true. Late was getting her killed. She heard the heavy footfalls now gaining on her. She had a head start, but as she had already discovered, she was no match for the monster's speed. And Gwen had no escape plan.

If Dorian had expected a pleasant response for tackling someone out of the way of a falling tree, he would have been sorely disappointed, emphasis on the sorely, by the other boy's reaction. He swore, rolling off his assailant and staggering to his feet in one less than fluid movement, right hand clasped over his nose to stem the flow of gushing blood. Drops of crimson already decorated the green grass beneath his feet, painting dead leaves in a macabre fashion. It was only the most pressing injury because, damn, the other boy could pack a punch, even when flailing wildly as he had been. The teen didn't have time to nurse his wounds, however, because there was something that needed his attention more than a possibly broken nose. Monsters, apparently, had that impact on people by making their everyday problems seem minuscule in comparison because, yes, his father not showing up for dinner was upsetting, but not more so than, say, some sort of Eldritch abomination killing him.

The scene had continued to play out when Dorian had been more preoccupied with his own issues. People were scattering to the wind, doing the normal thing, the smart thing in running away, taking off in all directions to save themselves. Others were not, and he wasn't even sure why he was surprised. There was a boy waving a camera around in such a way that reminded Dorian of a mix between an insane paparazzo and those found footage mockumentaries. He was with two of the girls left- the tree girl who, as it turned out, was probably less insane than the rest of them for staying if only because she apparently knew what was going on, and another. Others dotted around the park, either frozen with fear or grasping clumsily for weapons, and there was a dog barking somewhere, but Dorian's attention remained fixated on the immediate problem.

The monster, unbidden, had broken free of the bench that had seemed like such a good trap only minutes before when the metal had twisted forcefully around the creature, pinning it within. Now it was continuing its rampage, but it had a target now, or, rather, the predator now had the perfect prey. Dorian hadn't seen what led up to the fixation the monster had on the girl, but it made a sort of horrific sense. She wasn't in the best shape- that much was obvious even from a distance, too frail, almost sickly looking- and her pace was slowing with each step, or perhaps the monster was just increasing speed. Easy prey. It was looming over her now, and, for the second time that day, Dorian was faced with a choice. He exhaled, pulling a now blood-stained hand away from his nose and groping in his pockets. Keys, phone, wallet… there. He found what he wanted- a pocketknife, another gift from his father. It wasn't incredibly large and certainly wasn't meant to cause harm, especially since he primarily used it to snip off loose threads on clothes, but it was large enough and definitely sharp. He clasped it in his hand, unfolding the blade. Choice made. He apparently didn't have a good track record for making choices today.

Dorian ran then, each step punctuated by a pulsating warmth emanating from his bracelet that he didn't have time to worry about, gradually picking up speed as he sprinted into death's grip with only a hope, a prayer, and a knife on his side. The monster was even bigger up close making even Dorian feel small in its shadow, but he couldn't worry about that now. Now he could only worry about his aim, as he stumbled into the monster's path, dug his feet into the ground, and, with a shout and in one swooping motion, buried his knife into the creature's chest. It went in surprisingly smoothly, and he could see blue blood oozing from the wound, intermingling his his own red covered hands. He looked positively feral then, blood staining his face, knife buried to the hilt in the monster, teeth gritted with the effort of twisting it and digging it in deeper. This was not how he expected his day to go.

Harper had broken the surface in time to see something bounce off the monster and splash into the lake. A second later the monster had turned around and was chasing someone else, away from him. He gave an enormous sigh of relief, sinking just a little in the water.

His curiosity piqued about whatever had fallen into the water...it didn't look like a frisbee since the splash was so small. Ducking underwater, a familiar stinging hitting his eyes, Harper swam to the spot where it looked to have landed. Oblivious to whatever was happening above land, he finally found what looked to be the shaft of a knife sticking up from the muddy bottom. Retrieving it, he realized it was indeed the shaft of a knife, with the blade still attached to it. Small, but well-crafted it looked. He hadn't gotten a good look at whoever had thrown it so....finders keepers? Briefly he imagined the look on Sadie's face if she found out he had stolen someone's knife. If she found out...and he hadn't actually stolen it. The person had lost it in the lake...

Lungs reminding him he needed to breathe, he resurfaced. He was wary of returning to the shore, scanning the park. A ways off he saw a black mass fall to the ground, still, before shattering. "Well, good thing that's taken care of," he said outloud, "Stupid aliens should know not to mess with us Earthpeople!" Deciding it was safe to return to land, Harper swam to the shore, his jacket still on the ground, relatively unscathed. Hauling himself out of the water, he shook himself like a wet dog, water from his clothes and locks spraying everywhere. Picking up his jacket and pulling it over his shivering self, he held up the knife he had found and opened his mouth to ask for its owner.

An intense heat interrupted him, blossoming yet again from the same place it had before. With a shout, Harper dropped the knife. This time wrapping his fingers with his wet shirt, he looked down for the source of the pain. He was startled to realize it came from his shark-tooth necklace, and even more surprised to find the exact source was from the pearl ring he had found earlier that day!

"Stupid, cheap piece of plastic," he muttered, struggling to untie the wet cord behind his neck. It took him a few minutes of useless fumbling before he remembered he still had a knife. It was when he turned to relocate it that he finally noticed the whiteness closing in. His eyes widened, and he quickly grabbed the knife before running away from the erasing, panicking. What was this? Some sort of alien thing? Had he stayed in the water too long and not realized it? Was he dying? Was this a trick?

His feet couldn't carry him fast enough, and in an instant white surrounded him entirely...

He hadn't realized he had closed his eyes until he opened them, and was startled by the darkness.

"That's it. I'm definitely dead..." he said out loud. He wasn't even sure how he was standing...looking down, he only saw more darkness. Yet as he kept looking, small pinpricks of light glowed below his damp flipflops, and then spread, creating what looked like a bridge of light. Closer inspection revealed what looked like an ocean, waves rolling not too far below them. When he looked up he noticed the others from the park, standing around and looking just as confused.

A voice started talking, speaking of warriors and gemstones and cyclosomethings. Words that flew over his head until the very end, when she spoke about their "destinies". When she finished speaking, he frowned. Commit to being monthly warriors on the basis of an attempt to suppress those beasts? Not even obliterate or wipe out, but suppress...meaning they'd still be around. And there were supposed to be more of them in this other place?

This had to be a trick. Had to. Some sort of trippy thing, maybe an amusement ride or simulation, where they needed random people's opinions. It was New York after all. It wouldn't surprise him.

What did surprise him was when one of the girls announced she was 'going home' and then walked towards the other world. What was she, crazy?! Squinting, he realized that it was the same girl who had fallen out of a tree, so...yeah, he wasn't surprised anymore.

"Well, I'm going home, too," Harper said loudly, turning back to the blue portal, "Besides, if the only basis for picking us people is because we have a magic birthstone or whatever, I literally just found this ring today, a few hours ago, in a hotel pool, and I'm pretty sure it belonged to someone else, so, uh...yeah. I'm definitely the wrong guy for this. I'm out."

Jason' s smile disappeared as he noticed a freaky hand coming out of the tree after it fell. His eyes widened as, not just a hand, but a whole freaking monster thing emerged from it. Taking a few steps back, Jason surveyed the area, seeing most of the people still here. But what was that idiot girl doing still standing there!?

He watched the scene unfold, and it happened fast. From the girl who'd fallen from tree throwing pinecones at the monster, to being chased by it, to it being stuck in a bench, to that first guy he saw stabbing it with a dangerous look in his eyes.

Jason had unconsciously started to sprint towards them when the monster was towering over the girl, his finger burning with a white searing pain as he moved. "Damn it!" he stopped sprinting, the pain too hot for him to focus, and tried to yank the ring off. It wouldn't budge. It would twist when he twisted it, but it wouldn't move past his knuckle. "W-what the hell is going on!?" And though he saw the guy stab it, he wasn't really focused on it, only on his ring. Until, that is, he saw everything starting to be swallowed by a wall of white. He closed his right hand tight around the fingers on his left and did a 360.

"There's no way out of this thing... crap." He closed his eyes as the white closed in and waited. For a second, he felt a very strange shift in the air around him, and the pain from his ring stopped. In fact, everything stopped, and it felt like he was paralyzed and having the air pulled out of him before things snapped back to normal. He opened his eyes slowly to see blackness. "What-" He cut off as lights arranged under him and in front of him, creating a path. He started and looked down, and with a blink of surprise noticed that under the lights it looks like there were churning dark waves. He looked around slowly to see eleven other people there as well, all of them he thought he recognized from the park.

"Okay, what is going on?"

His eyes shot forward as he heard a smooth voice start to speak, almost sounding like it came from every direction. He heard as the voice started to talk about things he wasn't familiar with, and his curiosity caused him to listen, really listen as she mentioned the legend, the birthstones, and the monster thing. What did she call it? He tried saying it out loud in a whisper, "Cyclo... Cyclopean..." And as the voice finished talking, giving them a choice... well, he'd already decided without really thinking about it like he should have.

He heard someone say, "I'm going home," and was surprised to see the girl who he'd before thought was crazy walk towards the other world, and after a second, things clicked in his mind. She wasn't crazy, she must have been from this, this Aires? If everything happening wasn't just some illusion or dream or something... He glanced back at what he assumed would be the way back to Earth, and then looked in front of him to where the girl was walking.

Yeah, there was no way he was changing his mind now. The peridot on his ring started to glow right as that previously annoying guy said, "Well, I'm going home, too," and he started to walk before saying, "Well, I'm in. I'm not sure if any of this is real or just some crappy dream, but I don't think I could walk away even if I wanted to... It feels... right to me." Not that I can actually DO anything...

What in the? Falke’s brain felt groggy, like the times he'd stayed up far past his self allotted bedtime or tried to do too much in one day straining body, mind, and soul. How long had been sleeping on the floor, again? And, wait-... Voices? Familiar somewhat at that, and yet-... Reality returned with a short, unpleasant jerk. Already standing upright, he wobbled slightly, off balanced by the sudden spell of dizziness plaguing him. He sucked in a breath of fresh air, unaware that he'd been holding it, with a gasp. He'd been getting away with /it/ and whatever was happening, finally getting Otter to follow him by tugging on the leash, and then nothing, absolutely bloody nothing. Coo like clinks echoed and rolling waves roaring softly became noticed by his ears, seemingly falling directly underneath him, or above him maybe, or really both at the same time. He honestly wasn’t sure, but all he could say was that this certainly didn’t feel like he was at Central Park, or in New York City anymore at that. Alright, set priorities straight. Monster had been attacking, clearly not in the park anymore, and a whole bunch of teens crashed on the floor around him. Something was happening, though he wasn't quite sure what. Wonderful. He raised his hand to rub gently at the side of his temples, wincing slightly because of the rope-burned flesh of his palms stinging painfully, noting the disappearance of his blind-man’s ‘sunglasses’ as he did. Great. That was his third pair this year, his parents wouldn’t be pleased to get him another. But then again, losing his glasses seemed less of a problem currently, than the pickle he was currently stuck in And, wait… Rope-burns? The leash. Crap. Where was Otter? He’d been right behind him, tugging on the leash, still barking his silly head off at the monster. And now? There didn’t seem to be any hide or hair of his dog. Depp… He didn’t however have time however, to continue chewing himself out or perhaps calling out for Otter, as a Voice echoed forth.

His brain was able now to comprehend what was being said but not at the same time, maybe it was the echoes fault, likely. Or, well… He couldn’t quite believe this was all happening. Month warriors? Spirits stuck in stones in their jewelry? Save the world? Destiny? Yea, right – a ton of stuff worth investing his sanity in, no not really. All 12 or nothing, well, that didn’t sound pleasant… Falke glanced about, his eyes narrowing wearily as they made their unfocused trek about the room. Listening to the others varying remarks of going home, both heading in opposite directions, more than slightly disconcerting he’d might mention if asked, and another’s happy-go-lucky why not giving it a shot. He stayed silent however, not voicing a comment or opinion. Because really, while he was not sure on his own answer to the question asked of course, but - blue portal to earth or gold portal to wherever that was again? Well, the humming listless noise that he assumed were the portals happening on either end of the room – didn’t really shout out blue or gold to him, so like he knew where to go if he did decide. Great.

Skylar watched with wide eyes as one of the boys who had been standing near the tree earlier stabbed the thing right in the heart, a deafening shriek filling the air as the creature dissolved in front of her. The burning sensation coming from her necklace intensified, the sudden increase in pain bringing her to her knees.

She opened her mouth to scream but couldn’t, her heart thudding away in her chest. An overwhelming sense of panic washed over her, her eyes squeezed shut as she struggled to take in air. She was going to die, she was going to die, she was going to die…

Just as quickly as the pain had increased it was gone, the burning replaced by a comforting warmth that seemed to envelop her like a thick blanket. Skylar felt like she was floating, the panic replaced with a strange sense of calmness.

If this was what dying was like, she was totally satisfied.

Slowly her eyes opened, her surroundings gradually coming into focus. She definitely wasn’t in Central Park anymore, the familiar chaos of the city replaced by a serene setting that she couldn’t even begin to explain. Her older brother had told her about patients who explained their own near death experiences, saying that it felt as if they were traveling through a tunnel towards a bright light. While Skylar didn’t consider herself to be religious, maybe this was what heaven was supposed to be like.

Regardless, Skylar wasn’t exactly sure what to think about this whole situation. The rational part of her kept saying that this was ridiculous, that she should turn and go back through the portal that led back to Earth. The other part of her was attracted to the idea of being an “undoubtedly special being” though. That and the fact that she was pretty sure she was already dead, and what else did she have to lose anyway? Not much.

"I'm in." She stated, glancing back to see if any of the others had made up their minds yet.