A'Walkin' Amongst the Lilies IC

[Raveled]

Lewis' shade floated over to where they were standing. "Yeah, yeah. Carl gets my coat -- my old coat, not my new one. That goes to Gina, 'cause she needs a new coat. And Harry can get my hat an' my boots. He always liked my hat, and he needs boots." The ghost smiled faintly, but after a moment the expression faded back to one of unease. "Do you know who got my hand, mister?" The specter was starting to repeat himself; it wasn't unusual, for ghosts without much to tie them back to the mortal world, to repeat themselves and eventually fade away. It looked like Lewis was heading into another loop.

Robin paced away from where Dead Head was talking to the (to her, now) invisible, unsettling presence. She gave the wall a good, long look, before placing her hands on the top and trying to vault over -- without much luck, it had to be said.

[Dr Archeville]

"I'll make sure they get 'em, Lewis," Dead Head replied, "but, uh, didja have any -- whoa, hey, stay with me now! Didja have any family still kickin' around? Brother? Sister? Son? Wife?"

The Revoltin' Revenant glanced back where the sorceress had been, and saw she was no longer there. A quick scan of the area showed her attempting to climb a wall.

Robin heard something plop down atop the wall, as if something had been lobbed over onto it. Looking up, she saw a dead man's hand; not the hand of glory, but one of the zombie's.

"I'd offer you a hand, ma'am," he punned, "even though you've been a might rude in never tellin' me yer name. I mean, how the heck am I supposed ta call ya when I find some leads?"

[Raveled]

Robin's mouth quirked into a smile. "Apologies," she said. "The name's Robin Cross. But just how are you going to contact me? I didn't think they sold cellular plans to the dead."

[Dr Archeville]

"Oh, I got all kinda's ways, don't you worry none 'bout that." The revenant winked at her, then turned back to Spirit!Lewis. "I'll send word soon as I find anythin'. Might be a collect call -- thank goodness fer pay phones -- might be somethin' more mystical."

He then waited to see if Lewis remembered anything of his family.

The hand atop the wall scuttled this way and that, then leapt off the wall and scampered towards Dead Head. It crawled up his leg, up his back, slid down his arm, and reattached itself to its wrist.

[Raveled]

Robin finally managed to haul herself over the wall on her third try and thudded down the other side. "Right," she said, a touch breatheless. "I'll keep an eye out for hands crawling down the sidewalk, shall I?" With that she turned away from the graveyard and began walking back to where her car was parked.

Lewis' shade drifted back and forth with random gusts of wind as he considered Dead Head's question. "Gina's my girl," he said. "I want to be taken care of."

[Dr Archeville]

Some hours later...

Many souls were gathered in the soup kitchen at St. Francis, seeking sustenance as well as shelter. Few noticed one more face in the crowd, though the face could not be seen under the layers upon layers of clothing.

Good thing I was able to find these sweaters, scarves, gloves and cap as I made my way over.

The newcomer blended in seamlessly with the others, for all were outcasts wearing cast-off clothing. The newcomer said little -- few did, not until they got a chance to know one another -- and just took his serving of soup and sat at a temporarily empty table.

"Aright, Gina, were are ya... word is this is a place ya'd probably hang at, an' I ain't found ya yet, s maybe yer here already...."

[Raveled]

Dead Head blended in well enough with the ranks of the homeless, as they shuffled into the kitchen and queued up in the soup line. Even once he was seated, something kept the other transients from approaching him. It was a bit surprising, therefore, when he felt a strong hand clasp his shoulder. The revenant turned his head to see a portly Hispanic man in a Catholic priest's robes, smiling gently. "Greetings, my son," he said. "I'm Father David. I don't think I've seen you, before."

[Dr Archeville]

"Nah," he mumbled, adjusting his scarf slightly to make sure his face remained concealed. "Ain't been in town long. Heard this was a good place to get a bite, an' sleep without worryin' 'bout rats. It's... it's a nice place ya got here, padre. Looks real safe, here. Lots'a dangers out there."

Okay, let's see what reaction that gets. Hunh, wonder if I should tell the padre here I'm an undercover investigator? It feels wrong lyin' to 'im, an' that would be closer to tha truth....

[Raveled]

The priest hesitated, and just a more a moment Dead HEad saw fear and concern pass over the man's face; and the next second, it was gone. He smiled that same broad smile again and gave the revenant's should a squeeze. "If you ever need a place to sleep," he said, "for whatever reason, the church is always open.

[Dr Archeville]

He's rattled 'bout somethin'. Best go easy, fer starters, talk up his church.

"I 'preciate that, padre," he replied, trying to sound like he was warming a bit but still keeping his distance. "Is the place always this crowded? Cain't imagine ya can keep track'a everyone what comes in. I mean, ya probably do a better job'n the cops do, they don't seem t'care none 'bout us folks what fall through th' cracks."

[Raveled]

The priest nodded. "The police have a lot on their hands, even with the city's heroes helping them. We... just have to tend to the Lord's flock." He smiled warmly and patted Dead Head's should again, before moving on to speak to a group of homeless seated not too far from the revenant.

[Dr Archeville]

Best not be too forward too quick, he might think I'm one'a the kidnappers lookin' fer new recruits. I'll check 'im back later.

The newcomer nodded to the father and gave a noncommittal grunt. As the holy man moved on, he kept an eye on him, but tried to not make it appear he was keeping an eye on him. Which probably didn't work out that well, as he -- like most zombies -- was not terribly god at stealth.

The Revoltin' Revenant did have a decent eye, though, and so tried to also keep his eyes peeled for anything -- or anyone -- that seemed out of place. Unusually shiny and new cooking utensils or holy symbols, potentially a sign of a payoff, or transients who appeared more interested in scoping out other people than keeping an eye on their own food and meager possessions.

[Raveled]

Dead Head watched the crowd of street people around him as surreptitiously as he could, the stew he'd collected growing cold in front of him. The crowds of homeless grew quickly; apparently this church was well-regarded by Freedom City's transients. The crowd settled into certain groups by rules unknown to the revenant, but by and by an odd family unit settled near him. There were two men, one black and older, the other white and skinny, and a little girl that couldn't've been more than twelve or so. As they say down, the older man said to the girl, "Eat up, Gina. Got to eat all your veggies. S'What Lewis would've wanted."

[Dr Archeville]

Gina? Ah, an' she's a lil' thing. Good, I'm good with kids, 'least th' ones young enough to not know what death is or told it's somethin' t'fear. Wonder if th' two fella are Carl an' Harry? Well, only one way 'tfind out...

He scooted a bit closer to them, and gave a slight wave, which was about all he could give considering the layers of clothing he had on. "Looks like you fellas know what's what 'round here. Got any advice ya'd wanna pass t'someone what's still kinda new t'all this?"

[Raveled]

The two men drew closer to the little girl as Dead Head started talking to them, but after a moment the white guy responded. "Lincoln," he said. "Don't go under the bridge there."

The black man nodded. "Should probably find a shelter, or stay at the Church for a few days. S'what we're doing." Gina's mouth turned down into a sulky frown, but she didn't protest. Either she knew that arguing was futile, or else deep down she agreed with the men.

[Dr Archeville]

Ah-ha! Now ta dig a bit deeper....

"Lincoln, eh? That where the bum fights go down?," the over-clothed newcomer asked. "Not somethin' I'd want ta do, but if it came to it, I can hold my own in a scrap."

Dead Head knew he had to tread carefully, and not ask too much, not at first. The people around him had what to most would be an unimaginably hard life, and trust came hard in such cases.

"Know anyone hirin'?"

[Raveled]

The younger man scowled at Dead head. "You're sick," he said to the revenant. The pair of men stood up, pulling the girl to her feet a moment later. "Go to Lincoln if you want a fight, alright? Just don't plan on coming back." The little family unit hustled away, the men careful to keep between Dead HEad and Gina.

[Dr Archeville]

Well, that went... horribly. Still, I got at least one lead, and I know what Lewis' pals looks like, so some good came of it.

The overclothed stranger nodded politely as the small family left, and soon he also rose and headed out. Before leaving, though, he attempted to track down Father David, and expressed concern over the welfare of little Gina. "No secret times're tough on every soul in here, but a kid... well, seems they could use a bit more help."

"Guess I'm headed t'Lincoln next," he muttered as he exited the church/soup kitchen, thinking aloud on the off-chance someone nearby might overhear and follow. He kept the layers on -- no sense in tipping his hand just yet -- and slowly made his way to the bridge.

[Raveled]

Traffic on the Mona-Glenn Bridge was heavy; cars with people coming home from work, cars of people on the night shift heading out. But traffic on the pedestrian walkway was almost nonexistent. Dead Head passed some people huddled next to the structural elements, eying the revenant as he passed, but evidently none wanted to mess with the tall, thin street person with the weird light in his eyes. Maybe twenty feet before the bridge rejoined the land, he passed over the spot where Lewis had hung from the neck until he was dead.

Underneath the bridge, a small village of shacks had grown up along the pilings, like barnacles at the high tide mark. They were built of cast-off sheets of plywood, warped 2x4s, layers of cardboard, and rusting sheet metal. Metal barrels, corroded and pitted by age and exposure to the elements, squatted every dozen feet or so. They were, all of them, unlit and cold to the touch. Except for the wind, there was absolutely no movement in the little shanty town.

[Dr Archeville]

This is the place, alright.

The overdressed undead studied the scene for a few minutes, standing there swaying slightly in the breeze. The distant susurrus of the dead was joined by other sounds, rattles and chimes and distant chants, all indications of magic worked throughout the city. Freedom had a lot going on in its magical underbelly, more than most cities Dead Head had been to, so narrowing down specifics would be tricky in the best of circumstances. Dead Head's experience made up somewhat for his little formal training (and that training had only come recently, from Phantom, and ended just as abruptly when she'd departed on 'urgent matters'), but if there was anything he could pick out, it was necromantic magic. And that's probably what was used here, or at least clung to the kidnappers and murderers who had been here.

[Raveled]

Dead Head stalked through the shanty town, and nothing could hide from his burning gaze.There was one presence that he couldn't ignore, lurking near the surf. It drew closer and resolved itself into a huge, lanky humanoid, at least eight feet tall and broad shouldered, but with arms and legs as thin as the revenant's. Its skin wasn't a gray pallor, though, but an orange-brown color like a beetle's shell. Its mouth was horribly distended, too long and so filled with teeth that they jutted out at every angle; like an unholy combination of wolf and shark. It was a ghoul, a living creature mutated by necromantic energies to be stronger, faster, and tougher. The fact that it would only digest living flesh was technically a side-effect, but not one most necromancers would lose sleep over.

This thing, though, was larger than any ghoul Dead Head had ever heard of. It licked it lips and teeth with a long, purple tongue, eyeing the revenant. Its long arms were tipped with sharp, black claws; it raked those across the bare earth, staring straight at the hero.

[Dr Archeville]

Awww, man....

"Hey!," he called out, waving cheerfully and walking towards it. "Yer a big fella, ain'tcha! Now... oh, hol' on, hol' on..." He paused, took a half step back, "y'ain't gonna tell me yer playin' t'all th' negative sterotypes'a ghouls, are ya? Bro!" He slapped his thigh, "how're we ever gonna get Equal Rights fer Undead if we keep actin' like the murderous beasts the Live-Man makes us out t'be? Ya wanna prove Fulci an' Snyder right? We can be better'n that!"

I really hope this guy's still got a mind in there!

[Raveled]

The super-ghoul cocked its head to one side, almost like it was listening to Dead Head after all -- but after a minute it roared a challenge and tried to charge, all four clawed limbs tearing a the wet sands. It let out a surprisingly high-pitched scream as it came, like a train whistle, the noise amplified against and again by the close confines under the bridge.

[Raveled]

The ghoul charged at the revenant, wide arms swinging back and forth. Dead Head used his smaller size to managed to slip to one side, though, and the ghoul's claws sailed over his head. The creature let out another tea-kettle whistle and tried to spin around to attack again, but its momentum carried it past the undead, eventually slamming up against the far embankment. The impact didn't seem to even phase it, however, and the creature turned to orient on Dead Head again.

[Dr Archeville]

Dagnabbit...

Dead Head 'ducked' by bending backward, far more than any one with a solid and unbroken skeleton should be able to. Luckily for him snapping his spine was a snap! As he bent he reached back to undo the fastener on his shovel holster, letting it slide out into his hand.

"Right, if'n that's how it's gonna be," he called out as he righted himself back up, and charged towards the ghoul, "then I'll just have t'put... you... down!"

He'd intended to make a great downward swing at the thing's legs, to slow it and maybe get it to fall and bring its head down to a reachable level. But the thing spun away at the last second, leaving Dead Head's shovel biting concrete!

Dang, 'e's quicker'n I thought!