THE CHRONICLES OF FINALGAMER
All Things Quiet and Sweet

"A sin takes on new and real terrors when there seems a chance that it is going to be found out."
Mark Twain

Fog.  A symbol of fear, obscurity and distortion.  To twist faces and truths in its sinuous smoky clutches, a maw of smog to swallow whole entire places.  A representation of adventure, the urge to explore and travel into the unknown which in hand would provide fear to test one's determination.
To the raptor who found himself awakening underneath it, a cold illusory blanket, the fog symbolised both.  He couldn't even remember how he ended up here, the same sense of displacement one would experience in a dream.  All he remembered was that strange dolphin, speaking of songs.
He got up gently, slowly blinking to find himself next to a stall where flowers stood frigidly in the mist, stale and wilting in front of the flower shop.
	"Nnngh...shit this place is cold."
The only thing he could tell was that he was on Sanders Street according to a nearby sign.  With no other direction, he walked westwards, striding past the flower shop towards an intersection where much to his surprise, he saw something that had been smeared across the road.  He didn't even need to look further to know that it was blood.  Now he only had to wonder what had caused it.
It curved upwards to the north along Lindsey Street, but James was too anxious to even want to follow it and kept walking forwards, trying to find some sort of clue to the place.  A Mexican restaurant stood at the intersection, boarded up and abandoned like every other building ahead of him seemingly.
Heading further along past an alleyway, he came to another intersection, as well as the end of the street, with only north or south to go.  Before anything else however, he saw a bar to his right, a dilapidated looking place called Neely's barely holding itself together.  It was however open, and enticed him inside.
The interior of the bar was clearly long gone, with peeling wallpaper and windows covered with old newspapers he could barely make out.  Trash on the floor crumpled with every shuffling of feet, and the old bar seats had long lost the smoothness of their velour.  The drinks were in a bad state too, probably long out of date.
He walked around and to the back of it towards a doorway, where trashbags laid against a stairway for him to scale upwards.  He climbed gently with the fear that he was trespassing, despite the certainty he had of the bar's vacancy.  He soon reached a landing where a few doors stood, one on the left, one on the right, and one straight down the middle.  His certainty dwindled, and his need to speak out for any signs of life had reached unbearable levels.
	"Hello?  Anyone here?"
He tried the door to his left but it rattled with a jammed lock, so he tried the door on the right side, which opened easily into a small bedroom.  It reminded him of his own room, except his had been larger.  A single bed coated in dust sat here, along with several boxes of receipts that he recognised from bar business.  He skimmed over a few of them with mild interest before noticing something orange and shiny on a table.
	"Huh?"
Walking over, he soon recognised it to be a pocket radio.  To him it was a true relic of the past, an item only used by collectors.
	"Hah...nice...wonder if it still works."
He gently turned it on, twisting the dial to try and find a station.  Nothing came from it, not even voices.  All he heard was broken static.  He was however intrigued by it, pocketing it in his satchel.
Seeing the sigil stone within made him think upon what use he had for it.  A powerful item such as this was going to be practically worthless outside its own world, unless he was lucky with it.

Hiking up his jeans and heading back outside, he checked that his scissors were comfortably strapped to his back within their scabbard.  They glinted in the misty atmosphere with expectant wonder, as James decided to head into the direction the blood was going.  While this was usually not the best idea, he had no other lead to go with.
Along the road he found more dragged trails of blood in occasional spots, more vehicles and buildings abandoned and boarded up.  Eventually the blood pointed to a side dirt path known as Martin Street.  He then heard something strange up ahead.  Something...shuffling.
So, monsters then, thought FG.  Yeah, let's go with monsters for now.
If a big gash of blood on the road of a deserted town was not a damn good indication of a monster's presence, then he'd hate to think of what else it could be, not that the monsters themselves seemed a good thing either.
Walking tenderly in anticipated anxiety, the shuffling became louder and louder, and he soon heard what sounded like someone vomiting.  Thinking someone needed help, he reached towards a small basketball court.
He jumped as the radio in his satchel suddenly blared static.  He was about to turn it off when he realised that the closer he walked to the area, the louder the static.  Was this proof at last that this town was inhabited?
Yes...and no.
Out of the corner of his eye, in the midst of the blacktop basketball court, something was hunched over, stirring in a slumped corner beside the hoop.  He thought it was just some oily rags, but now he saw it had muscles.  Thin straining muscles that looked too weak to uphold the body they were within.
The raptor looked at the thing rise, a sickly-skinned emaciated humanoid in a tattered police uniform, wielding a large police baton, a blinding abscessed wound for a face.
	"Wha...what the fuck?"
He tried diplomacy in case the thing was sentient.  The last thing he wanted to do is start killing residents on a misunderstanding.
	"H-hey...I don't wanna fight, just tell me what this place is, okay?"
Still no reply other than a disgruntled sloshing moan from its nonexistent mouth as it lurched forwards menacingly.
	"St-stay back.  I mean it!  Get back!"
He knew it wouldn't, he confirmed it as a monster, so he decided to fight.  But not willing to let his claws sink into that rotting oily flesh, he grabbed his scissors and wielded it threateningly in case the thing would think twice.  Still nothing as it raised its baton to strike him down.
He dashed forwards to slash as hard as he could at its head.  The sound of SHRIKK filled the air sharply, as the thing collapsed dumbly to the ground with its head cleaved in two.  As it fell, the radio suddenly turned silent.  Not noticing this, the raptor bent down with scissortips pushing on the thing's head, making sure it stayed down.
	"Must be a monster infestation...weird looking thing...maybe some kind of infection?  Zombies?"
Keeping the scissors in his grip, he walked out of the basketball court and headed back into town.  Right now, he had little idea of where to go and he got a little ways up the road before turning to hear static once again.  
	"GAH!"
The sound had startled him enough to make him turn around swiftly, before realising it was in his pocket.  He took it out and tried to mess with it again.  To his surprise, he was able to hear a garbled message, some sort of plea for help in a woman's voice.  Somehow the voice stung deep into his heart, a voice that made him feel for her.
	"-----mes----el------------ngle----no---------------lease--------reath--------"
	"Shit...stupid thing, work!"
He slapped the radio with his hand to see if it would but no progress came.  He contemplated throwing it into a wall but thought it might just be the bad signal of the area and just put it back in his pocket before heading back into the town.
	"Eh, maybe I can get a better signal...now...where to go?"
Without any sense of direction, he walked down one road to the west, deeper into the town.  Soon however, the radio came alive again with static startling him to the sight of creatures in the distance of the fog, similar to the one he just slaughtered.
	"Ffffuck."
Some of them had arms, while others were armless and had their shirts open to reveal a cave-like hole for a chest.  He readied his scissors, knowing they'd be eager to kill him as he circled towards the first one he saw, slashing it in the back and cleaving the spine apart.  Working through the street, he had little problem in actually fighting them for how weak their muscles were.
Even cutting one creature's arm off was like slicing jelly, slippery and filthy to bleed oily blood upon the gravel.  He only started to have problems after killing five of them, when one of the humanoids got a little smarter and opened its chest, spraying a clear ordorless gas straight into James' face.
He knew exactly what it was the moment he started to cough and sneeze, blinded by the horrendous irritant, swinging his scissors insanely around him to keep the beasts away.  Tear gas.
Coughing harder, he felt one of the creatures manage to crack its baton hard across his head with a lame-handed swing, causing his vision to blur even moreso.  Trying to fight in this state was useless.
Another of the things sent another belch of tear gas from its chest cavity, the sound of vomiting accompanying its release as James coughed harder.  Soon as he was able to see, he barged his way through the creatures, cutting another one down on the way, truncheon bruises on his head and shoulders.
Soon he began to tire out from the fighting, and he felt more coming after him.  They didn't seem to stop at all as he ended up letting himself get backed up towards the end of a street, the radio screaming static from within his satchel.
The street ended abruptly at a giant wall of construction workers' tarp, somehow far too thick for him to cut through.  A door however gave him a way to get through, with a message written in blood upon the doorframe.

WHEN DARKNESS CLOUDS YOU, THEN YOU SHALL PASS
BUT ONCE YOU GO THROUGH, EVERY DAY MAY BE YOUR LAST

True to its cryptic word, it would not open.
Looking around, he saw only an apartment building nearby, a rather dilapidated one but there was bound to be someone there.  After all, he knew back home there were tons of burnt out apartments that were happily occupied by vagrants.  With the impending possibility of a horde of baton-wielding police zombies, he dodged into the building, which opened with a shuddering creak.  As soon as he stepped inside, the radio fell silent at last.

The main hall was dark and damp, certainly an appropriate home for junkies or squatters.  The moisture was unsightly under the raptor's feet, and he saw only stairs leading upwards, as well as one door on the ground level.  A sense of emptiness seemed to float around the hall like dust, of which there was enough to make the raptor's eyes wince slightly.
He had enough problems from his eyes still stinging from the tear gas as they tried to adjust to the darkness.
	"Hello?"
His call to the place reverberated slightly and was replied to by nobody.  He put his hands out to try and feel for anything important, eyes bleary as he cursed to himself.  Investigating further, he walked carefully to the ground door, only to find it locked with the symbol of a rose above the door handle.
	"Huh, fancy.  I wonder if all the doors are like that...god, fucking stupid tear gas piece of shit, this better not last long...maybe someone can help."
With nowhere else but up, he climbed the stairs to the second floor, cautiously so with each step carefully placed in order to not trip.  When he reached the second floor, he could hear a very faint breathing coming from above him.
	"H-hello?!"
He quickly climbed up to the third floor, hurrying to try and find someone as the breathing turned louder.  From the little he could make out with his eyes, he saw no one, and nobody responded to him.  The breathing however was very clearly heard.
A shuddering breath from shaky lips that were never there, followed by a strangely painful exhale.  It continued as long as he stood there, trying to hear for it, trying to find where it came from.  He had very little of the third floor landing to investigate, a simple L-shaped walkway towards a door directly above the one on the first floor and the second.
The breathing turned louder the longer he stood there.  He tried to call out again, but nobody came, and the breathing did not stop.  The shuddering turned louder, with James unable to understand why he could not sense anyone near him.  Then he stopped hearing the breathing...only to feel it.
Right next to his ear.

Panicking, he ran back down the stairs with a stumbling fall, hitting his head against the floor right in front of the second floor's door.  Groaning from the pain, he quickly opened the door nearby to escape the shuddering breaths.
The hallway he found himself in was dark enough for him to not see his own hand.  Adding to his temporary blindness, this did little to aid the situation.  With no other option left to him, he looked around for a piece of wood, feeling around on the disgustingly moist floor with a grimace, grunting under his breath.
	"God dammit...come on, gimme something!  I need a fucking piece of wood!"
Growling under his breath, he soon felt his hands start to shiver with a familiar tingle to them, but he couldn't see what was going on.  He imagined seeing little blue sparks near his claws, but soon he found a good wooden stick right underneath them, a sturdy and oddly dry one.
Holding one end and moving the other end to his other hand, he ignited the stick with some fire from his fingertips, smiling at finally having some light available to him.  The hallway did not look any better with it, drab mouldy walls already peeling, ruined damp blue carpet illuminated by a light past every two that were broken.  He walked westwards first, his eyes still bleary.
The hall ended beyond two doors on his left at a dimly-lit fire escape door, which was locked unsurprisingly.  The fire escape door was unusual in that it had a lock for a key along with a wide handlebar, with some sort of flower marking above the lock.  James snarled and turned the other way, checking both of the doors he passed.  Room 201 had a broken lock rusted completely shut, rendering the door permanently closed, while Room 202 was open.  The apartment was rather spartan.
A small kitchen corridor beside the door, a TV in the corner of the central room facing an armchair.  The door to the bathroom was across the room left of the chair.  Nothing appeared to be available, but the raptor searched nevertheless, hoping to find something interesting.  Cupboards were completely empty, not a scrap of food laid anywhere within the room, and the TV refused to turn itself on.
With some frustration, he left the room and travelled east, but he didn't enjoy the silence long before the radio began to spark into life.
	"G-GUH!"
He swore he was going to get a heart attack eventually from it, and was about to turn it off until he heard an odd shambling sound coming towards him.  Through the static, he could hear it well, and he readily placed a hand on the handle of his scissors, his torch in the other.  He could see the outline of the creature coming towards him, another shambling zombie thing dressed in a tattered police uniform.
The narrow width of the corridor made it a little tricky for the raptor to bring out his weapon, and he had no room to swing, so he charged forwards with a mighty thrust into the creature's throat.  Thick black ooze spurted from the gurgling beast, and he quickly slid his blades out before it slithered down to his claws, fearing it might be toxic.
	"F-fucking thing, still can't see...ngh...okay...maybe there's survivors, I just gotta be careful."

Next to the door leading to the stairway he had come from was a small laundry room, with nothing of importance to him inside.  Past that were two hallways, one heading north and one straight on.  Heading straight on, he found two more doors on his right with broken rusted locks, furthering his limitations of travelling.  A third door past them, Room 205 was locked, but not broken.  He wondered if he could be able to find the key for it and Room 201.
The hallway ended and turned north towards three last doors.  A staircase door was at the corner, but its lock was completely broken, as were the next two doors on his way to the very end of the hall.
	"Jesus christ, who the fuck wrecked all these doors, come on!"
His own shout of frustration slightly scared him in the midst of the empty hallway.  He worried that he might have alerted other terrible beings to his location, and quickly tried the last door, Room 212.  Thankfully, it was unlocked.  The room itself was much larger than Room 202, spacious enough for a family to live comfortably within.
The main living room had a TV in the corner with a couch in front of it, and three doors leading to different rooms.  One lead to an amicably-sized bathroom with shower and toilet in separate cubicles.  Both were completely rusted over and the less said about the toilet the better, though James did note that the showerhead was unusual in its design.  Instead of having a sprinkler head with several holes, it was simply one thin rectangular nozzle, just enough to fit a playing card inside.  The shower also had a payment unit, a small box with a coin slot.
	"Jeez, what kind of cheap bastard landlord demands you pay like that with water?  I mean money in the electric meter I get, but for WATER?  God."
The kitchen was bare, except for an energy drink that James turned away from out of disgust.  The two other doors lead to the master bedroom and a smaller single bedroom with a child's bed.
The beds were ruined and broken down, mattress fluff spilling out into soggy lumps upon the carpet.  The only thing of any interest in them was a strangely pristine sheet of paper, with a child's drawing upon it.  From what he could make out, it was the drawing of a small stick figure sitting on the floor, and two larger stick figures on the couch behind him, all three facing the TV.
The small stick figure seemed to be raising its hands in the air, head leaning far back from the TV, which had a strange set of yellow and orange lines blasting out from it.  On the back of the paper however were some words scribbled in crayon.  With eyes still stinging from the monster's mace-like gas, he blearily tried his best to read.  The torch light helped somewhat.
	"I...don't...sauna-no, uhm...wanna...sit in...front of TV now.  It...hearts?  No, hurts...my eyes, but daddy...says that...the TV is...m-magic?  But I...watched...so muck...uhhh, much with him...that it gives me...n-nightmares?  So I put a...lucky pony?  No, penny, my lucky penny...inside...so it won't...make me blind."
As soon as he finished reading the strange writing, he heard a sudden sound of static coming from the living room.  His radio was silent, and this was a much more hazy thicker sort of static.  Wandering back into the main room, he saw the TV was now turned on.  The flickering white static seemed to invite him closer, like a moth to a lightbulb.
Unable to help himself, as well as being bored without any sense of brightness in the dreary apartments, he sat down with his torch held high in one hand, keeping it away from the fabric.  The TV itself was a very old design, to James at least.  A small antenna at the top, a boxy-brown build with a glass screen and three knobs on the right hand side.
Curious, he bent down and tried to flicker between channels, if there were any, by twisting the dials.  After a few minutes of turning them together, he soon found himself watching a cartoon, smiling softly at the fuzzy black-and-white.  From what he could see despite his eyes and the shitty signal, it appeared to be some sort of anime about a few young students trapped within a hellish otherworld.
Eventually the sound started to come in more clearly, a dialogue starting between them.
	"H-huh-...-ukes?"
	"Who are you?!  I-i wouldn't thin-..."
	"Hahaha...yeah, right.  How long are you-...deludin-...self?"
Some sort of argument was occurring between two very similar characters, one with a regular voice, the other sounding distorted.  He wasn't sure if that was normal for the show due to the horrendous quality of the transmission.
	"And tha-...you-...so sweet o-...her death-...-perfect excuse!"
	"That's not tru-...who-...wha-...you?"
At this point however, the dialogue became perfectly clear without the slightest hiss of static.  The screen itself however turned dark, showing only the shadowed outlines of the two arguing, one voice clearly distorted, the other not.
	"I'm you...your shadow...there's nothing I don't know about you!"
	"Screw that!  I don't know you!  You can't be me you son of a BITCH!"
The last word roared at James with the volume suddenly turned up all the way to eleven, the TV suddenly exploding with a bright shrapnel-blasting flash, startling him as he dropped his torch and covered his ears from the deafening pain.
	"AGH!  FUCK!"
His eyesight turned worse as a result of the sensory overload, the flash making things worse as he covered his face to prevent any glass hitting it.  Thankfully he only received a few small hot nicks on him from the TV.  However, he soon found himself having to deal with a more pressing matter, in the form of the torch he had dropped on the sofa.
	"Shit!  Uh, um..."
Fire spread quickly across half of the sofa, crackling as it devoured the dampened fabric and coming towards FG.  Jumping quickly off the sofa in panic, he ran to the shower, seeing the length was long enough to reach the living room, but with no money on him to pay for the water.
	"Oh you are fucking KIDDING!"
He ran back to the living room to check on the fire, which had now taken control of half the sofa, slowly slithering its way down to the floor.  The dampness would hopefully delay it, but he had to deal with it immediately.  Despite his eyesight being worse for wear, stumbling from the effects of the TV explosion, he saw something shiny within the TV itself.
A tiny twinkling silver coin.  Braving himself to go near the fire, James grabbed the penny from under the cathode ray tubes of the television, and jammed it into the shower's coin slot.  He was rewarded by a good blast of cold water, which he soon brought out towards the living room to spray all over the sofa.  The water was ferociously strong, like that of a garden hose, focused in a rectangular spray.
The strength of the shower's torrent was enough to kill the fire before it started to creep along the floor, soaking the now burnt-out sofa through and through, but completely exterminating the flames.  After making sure the couch was wet enough to drown in, he felt the shower start to chug and sputter, spurts of water coming up like vomit.
	"Oh, what now?!"
Slapping the shower nozzle a few times, he was soon rewarded by one last blast of water, as well as something small and brass-coloured fly out onto the floor.  Dropping the hose, he quickly grabbed it from the floor, finding it to be a slightly rusted key with the number 202 upon the handle.  A revelation came upon him.
	"...you have got to be shitting me.  Huh...guess it really was a lucky penny.  Alrighty."
With either luck or fate guiding him, he departed Room 212 and headed back the way he came.