(Preston) Sands of Time

[Deleted]

It was a little place just outside Pensacola, Florida. The original site had been a jail, in fact much of the structure that still stood as the bar was the original parts of the jail with a dark history. A jumpin little dive bar that sat on the beach. It boasted volley ball any time, night or day and tables out on the sand. The building itself wasn't much to look at, a one level wooden building with lift up wooden sides that opened the joint up instead of windows. Strings of little party lantern lights festooned the patio and the windows giving the little place a merry air about it. Inside there was a long bar along the wall, with the tiki surf idols dotting it here and there, bowls of pretzels and peanuts along the bar and on the tables to keep the patrons suitably thirsty, and a small stage that was raised off the dancefloor that opened up and spilled out onto the beach .

What it lacked in 'prettiness' inside it made up for with the gorgeous view over looking the ocean that boasted some of the best sunsets in the Gulf and plenty of character inside. The place was a local haunt for the military types, drawing in crowds from the nearby Naval Air Station as well as the other service men and women that came through Florida on vacations, hops from place to place, or shipping out.

Locals came out as well. The A1A Sand Bar and Grill was something of a local flavor, unknown to the typical tourists. Cold brew on tap, fruity, tropical concoctions, and of course the good ole hard liquor for shots. When there wasn't a live band on the stage it wasn't uncommon to hear a little Jimmy Buffet from the speakers in the corners or some old school rock. But tonight as the sun was setting over the surf and the gentle breezes rolled off the Gulf, carrying the sweet, pure scent of salt water on it a band played on the stage.

The set up wasn't typical these days but back in the Forties and Fifties the likes of it could have been found at any gin joint. A drummer of course, an upright bass, couple of trumpets, couple of saxophones, a tenor and a baritone, a trombone, a piano player, and a singer. All were decked out in WW II apparel like an old school USO band as they performed on the stage. Kayla had never done anything like this before. Sure, she'd sang in bars and sang in the church choir, not to mention around the farm but never with so much theatricality.

They'd just finished a bouncy little number that had her smiling form ear to ear. She knew all these old songs. Had heard her Grams and Gramps singing them growing up. They just seemed to fit like a glove for her, the music, the setting, the costume and hair that made her look like she'd stepped out of a time machine.

It was great fun. Pausing only a moment as the bad played the opening strains and taking a sip of her water she stepped back to the stage, taking the microphone between her hands but letting the mic stand hold it as she began to sing, the setting sun hitting her face and hair, illuminating it better than any spotlight, the breeze drifting a few little fingercurls that had slipped loose around her face.

"I'm gonna love you, like nobody's loved you...come rain or come shine.

High as a mountain, deep as a river...come rain or come shine.

I guess when you met me, it was just one of those things.

But don't ever bet me, cause I'm gonna be true if you let me, let me.

You're gonna love me like nobody's loved me...come rain or come shine.

Happy together, unhappy together and won't that be fine?

Days may be cloudy or sunny

We're in or we're out of the money

But I'm with you always, I'm with you rain or shine.

She closed her eyes as she listened to the band take over, swaying a bit to the music as the couples found their way together on the dance floor like magnets inexplicably drawn to one another. There was nothing lewd or suggestive about the song but it's timeless beauty and simplicity rang true to the hearts of those that heard it. Her voice was sweet, pure, with a hint of country twang to it. She'd never sell millions of records but it was pleasant to the ear none the less.

None of them were aware of the predator that lurked within the festive scene, watching, angry, and ready to take revenge on all the living.

[prestonpayne]

So here he was, back in the game after a little hiatus, and this time the hunt had brought him to Pensacola, Florida. In this particular instance, Preston was in search of a little bar and grill down by the beach called the A1A. He’d received a call a few days earlier from an old friend by the name on Benjamin Burke, alias “Benny the Rat”. The name would remind most people of a nineteen twenties/thirties gangster snitch, but in this case it described the old mans military function during the Vietnam war; as a tunnel rat. Ben was something of a mentor to Payne, and was one of the top instructors at S.E.R.E school when the young soldier attended with his class.

The coastal air wafted up into Preston's face as he rumbled down a lonesome stretch of highway, the Harley Davidson he was riding resonating with a thundering roar; harmonious and at times in sync with the rhythm of his heart beat. Pulling up into the parking lot, he skidded the motorcycle to a halt;cutting the ignition and dropping the kickstand. Scanning his surroundings Preston dismounted the bike, stretching a bit and shuffling in place; attempting to get his blood circulating after the long ride.

He was clad in clothing that was common to most motorcycle enthusiasts, including faded blue jeans, a t-shirt, heavy-duty biker boots, a pair of fingerless gloves, sunglasses and a custom leather jacket. Moving to the back of the Harley, Preston retrieved the saddlebags containing the larger potion of his gear; slinging them up over his right shoulder. With a smooth swagger he proceeded down onto the beach, heading across the sand toward the bar.

As he approached Payne caught sight of Burke, sitting at a table on the outer perimeter; uncharacteristically sipping on an umbrella drink. The militant older man appeared to be in his mid to late sixties, and the ball cap on his head confirmed him as once being a prisoner of war in the Vietnam campaign. Approaching the table Benjamin stood up, the men then shook hands in the manner of two professionals, and each took a seat across from one another.

Benjamin: “It’s been awhile kid, you kinda fell off the face of the earth for awhile there.” -Burke spoke the words calmly, taking a sip from his drink.-

Preston: “Guess you can say I needed to take some time off to reflect on things, but I’m back in the game now, and I'm here as you requested. So, first things first. Why did you call me? And second, what the hell are you drinking ?”

Benjamin: “It‘s a Mai Tai, hell son. I‘m just an ol‘ beach bum. These tropical drinks are about as close as I‘m ever gonna get to an Island retreat. Besides, don‘t be knockin’ it till you‘ve tried it." -The old coot chuckled, leaning back in his chair.-

Preston: “You aren’t that old.”

Benjamin: “I’m ol’ enough to know my place kid.”

Preston: “Point taken, so do you have some information for me or not?” -Spoken in a hard-edged tone, stone-faced and relaxed.-

Benjamin: “Damn son, wanna get right to the point then do ya? Alright then, here it is. There’s been an increase in violent crimes around here as of late, robberies, murders, rapes. All of the suspects had themselves two things in common, the first bein’ they were all navy men servin’ over at the local naval air base, and the second bein’ this here bar and grill. None of em’ had the personality traits of the types who’d commit those kinds of atrocities. Oh, and did I mention they all slit their own throats after bein’ confronted about their actions? Somethin’ unnatural is goin’ on Preston, and you’re the only one I know with any knowledge in this particular type of problem.”

Preston: “ So, you’re thinking this is all a supernatural occurrence? You sure they didn’t just ship in a boatload of section eights?”

Benjamin: “Trust me kid, if it were that simple I wouldn’t have bothered you with this.” -Glancing around the bar as if to see if anyone was watching him, Ben leaned forward and began to fumble around beneath the table; coming back up with a number of medical folders, each marked confidential .- “Maybe that’ll help you out, it shows that they’d all passed their psychological evaluations with flyin‘ colors.”

Preston: “Guess it was just wishful thinking then, so you‘re in the business of stealing confidential medical files of recently deceased government personnel now?”

Benjamin: “I still have my connections Preston.. Wanted to have more for ya in the way of proof, somethin’ a bit more believable than the ramblin’s of an ol’ vet at least.”

Preston: “Your ramblings were always enough before Benny, I‘ll take a look into it, see what I can dig up.”

Benjamin: “I appreciate it Preston, it’s hard to find a bar around here that’ll run me a tab, and it would be even better without all the diein‘ goin‘ on.” -Burke smiled, raising his glass to Payne.- “Here’s to you kid, good huntin‘!” -With that said Benjamin rose from his seat, slowly wandering off down the sandy beach-

About that time Payne’s attention was drawn to the stage where an alluring young woman was singing an old Billie Holiday tune, she was mesmerizing to him, and her voice; though not professional, was pleasing to his ears. The setting sun cast a soft glow over her, the lighting causing her to appear almost angelic. His eyes were affixed to the woman, and he just couldn’t seem to help himself; watching attentively as she swayed to the bands music. Glancing over to the waiter at an adjacent table, Preston waved the man over.

Incredibly Gay Waiter: “Well hello handsome! Anything I can help you with?” -Winks-

Preston: “ Can you tell me anything about the woman singing up on stage?” -Brow raised, appearing a bit uncomfortable.-

Incredibly Gay Waiter: “Sorry honey I’m new here, I think she might be one of the other waitresses. Isn’t she fabulous though!? And oh my god, her hair!.. I just love it!”

Preston: “ Yea, I guess. Do me a favor and send her over a drink when she’s finished with this set, whatever the lady’s preference.. It’s on me.”

Incredibly Gay Waiter: “Very lucky girl!.. I’ll get that right over to her, and send her your regards as well.”

Preston: “Thank you kindly.”

:Equipment:(Visual Aid)

:Firearms:
1. Leather Saddlebags: Custom Sawed off Remington Spartan Side-by-Side Coachgun(12 Guage)
2. Custom Leather Shoulder Holster Rig(Concealed beneath his jacket): x2 Custom Kimber Gold Combat II Handguns(.45 ACP)

:Knives:
1. Leather Sheath(Secured off the back in an inverted cross draw position): Cold Steel Bowie Knife
2. Leather Sheath(Secured horizontally off the lower back): Arkansas Toothpick
3. Boot Sheath(Right Side): Tactical Operations Fighting Knife
4. Jacket Pocket(Concealed): Microtech Halo III Tactical Automatic Out-the-Front Knife

:Additional:
Leather Saddlebags: (Hunting tools of the trade, books pertaining to the supernatural, ammunition, the occasional firearm, none lethal alternatives such as “mace, tasers, retractable batons”, basic tools, medical supplies, duct tape, etc.)

[Deleted]

Those big, brown doe eyes (aided by a little more make-up than she usually wears to complete the whole 1940's look) opened as she jumped back in as the band's got through their brief refrain. Her voice lifted up and floated over the crowd, watching the dancers sway and cling to one another. The bright red lipstick helped define those lips as she sang, making her look like she came straight out of a WW II poster. Except for the lack of the bodacious bod those pin-up girls had. She was a little on the slender side, kinda willowy but the uniform she wore looked good, authentic.

Her voice trailed off in a sultry kinda whisper as the band wrapped up the set and the applause came from the crowd. While she did smile and bow, gesturing to the band behind her there was also a faint, pink blush that crept into her cheeks. Could be the lights? Right? leaning forward she spoke into the mic as she looked out over the crowd, her southern accent smooth but not over exaggerated as she spoke, marking her as 'not a local'. "Alright y'all we're gonna take a break and let ya enjoy some of the true greats. Remember tip your waiters and waitresses."

There was more applause, less than the first as people found interest in their drinks or their partners as the sounds of Glenn Miller drifted through the speakers of the bar to fill the empty space as the band took a breather.

Just as she was stepping off the stage the little waiter slipped up next to her and nudged her shoulder as he winked.

Incredibly Gay Waiter:
"Giiiirl! You have a fine slice of man-meat over there that wants to buy you a drink. I say jump on that offer honey." He nodded over to where Preston was sitting, just outside the main room of the bar and winked again, pursing his lips a bit.

Blinking in total surprise Kayla raised her eyebrows, unable to not chuckle a little at the the waiter's words. Man-meat? "Uh...I'll just take a Mountain Dew, thanks." But even as she demurred her cheeks colored a little more. She wasn't the typical bawdy bar maid, that was certain.

She waited till the waiter brought her the Dew and took a sip before she wove through the people in the main room, disappearing a few times behind some of the taller men (and some of the women in heels even). When she emerged from behind one of the poles that supported the roof she peeked over at Preston and bit her bottom lip.

Good manners said she had to say thank you. Her Momma would be mortified if she forgot her manners. "Kayla Shane Murdough! I didn't raise you that way!" she heard her mother scolding her in her mind and sighed a bit. It was the right thing to do. That was that. Nevermind the fact that most guys in bars only sent drinks for one reason. A reason she had no intention of fulfilling.

Stepping up to the table she smiled at Preston and kinda tinkled the ice in her glass of Dew. "I just wanted to say thank you... for the drink. That was awful nice of you."

Preston:
“You deserve it, I was enjoy your singing, and buying you a drink was the least I could do.” His tone was smooth, almost too calm.

Kayla:
Uh oh... yeah. There it was, that smooth act. She'd seen it enough times to be wary. A girl doesn't waitress in a bar without learning to spot those types.her head ducking a little she smiled a little tightly. "Well no the least ya could do was sit here, make a mess and leave with no tip to the folks servin' ya but I do appreciate it." she said in a chipper tone.

Preston:
He allowed a bit of a grin to stretch across his lips, it would remain unknown as whether it was genuine or not. Adjusting in his seat Preston’s gaze trailed off out toward the beach, before snapping back to Kayla. “I know how it is to work hard, and be met with a lack of appreciation afterwards. So, do you work here?”

Kayla:
She remained standing by the table, not sitting. Those eyes that seem to dominate her face trail to the sunset as well, the last rays of sunlight slipping over the horizon and turning the waves golden. A soft sigh left her at it's beauty, temporarily transporting her to a more peaceful frame of mind. Still looking there she smiles "Yeah.. i work here. But usually I'm slinging brews and refilling peanut buckets instead of singing. This is .. well it's more of a one shot thing." she confesses.

Preston:
He glanced toward the sunset Kayla was admiring, then back down at the table, his expression growing a tad bit more serious. “I wish you luck with your one time thing, you’re a good singer. I have a feeling the big boss will get a glimpse of you, make the one time thing a once a week thing, at least. So, what’s your name?”

He asked quizzically, not trying to pry, but visibly testing the waters; his true intentions still a mystery.

Kayla:
Get a glimpse of her? The comment caused one eyebrow to quirk up a bit as she let her eyes trail back over to the man sitting there. The leather jacket, military haircut. Oh yeah. He was one of those types. A small, bemused smirk crossed her lips as she looked at him, reminding herself to be polite. "Kayla... and you are?" she asked, putting on her sugary sweet smile that is such a staple in the South. You could tell a person to go to hell with that smile and it would be acceptable.

Preston:
“My name?” He seemed to think about it for a moment, then gave Kayla a nod, reaching inside his jacket and removing what appeared to be a wallet; flipping it open to reveal a badge. “McClane, officer McClane. Sorry about all the run around ma'am, mind if I ask you a few questions?” He opted to go ahead and attempt to play off the role of an undercover policeman, out to investigate the case.

Kayla:
She felt her heart skip a beat, clutching up in her chest as she saw the badge, her eyes widening a little before she could school her face back into a more placid set. A cop? That was never good for her. Never. But that sugar sweet smile stayed on. "Sure Officer McClane... but I'm not sure I have much to tell ya other than the olives in storage are technically out of date."

Preston:
Preston could see she was uncomfortable when seeing the badge, and assumed she had her reasons just as anyone else would. Offering Kayla as warm a smile as he could muster, he spoke out in the tone of an officer who'd been on the job for a few years.

“No need to worry Kayla, this isn’t about you. I was just wondering if you could tell me if anything out of the ordinary has been going on around the area, and if so what?”

Kayla:
"Out of the ordinary?" she echoed quietly and took a sip of her drink, still not at ease with being in the presence of a police officer. it was too risky. He might have seen her wanted poster. She knew she should have dyed her hair red or blonde or something.. maybe cut it.

"Nothing that I've seen. Of course that's a pretty broad statement considering the antics some of the military boys get up to in here." she answers him, playing with the straw in her glass and looking at it. Sure there were times in the bar when she was alone that she'd felt uncomfortable and thought once she'd seen something but she chalked it up to being exhausted and not getting enough sleep.

A cold wind seemed to drift over the area, her body shivering despite the pleasant temperature of the beach and a light mist of her breath could be seen just briefly before it dissipated.

Preston:
He didn’t seem all that surprised at her answer, chances are that if she had seen something she would have just chalked it up as a random occurrence. Or, perhaps even a overactive imagination. “If you’ve seen anything, maybe even a minute change. It could be as simple as the way people seem to be acting in a certain area of the bar? An out of place smell? The feeling that someone’s…..”

His words were paused by the frigid breeze, his eyes shifting to the steam emanating from Kayla’s mouth; knowing instinctively the cause of such an occurrence. “Something exactly like that…”

Kayla:
She shivered once more as the icy cold feeling drifted down the back of her neck like an icy fingertip stroking her skin, fighting to remain looking normal as the thing passed and was gone.

The ghost lingered near, glaring hatefully at the hunter, knowing his kind. The woman was his. He'd already claimed her and didn't intend to miss his chance.

A small laugh left her that didn't sound very convincing at all, even to her own ears. "That? Just a freak breeze off the gulf right?" She paused and thought about the deaths and the violence that had happened over the last month. "Well.. there's been a few of the regulars that...well I think they might have fallen off the wagon. Real nice fellas that were always polite. Started drinkin more, had some legal troubles. But I heard they've passed on...God rest their souls. I just figured it might be that PTS that they talk about since they were all Navy fellas. Maybe seen too much and snapped?" She shrugged a little and fidgeted with her soda, still feeling that uncomfortable feeling of being watched that made the hairs on her arms prickle.

Preston:
Preston’s eyes scanned the immediate area thoroughly, nodding toward Kayla and speaking. “Yea, breeze off the gulf,” he paused yet again. It wasn’t a breeze from the gulf, at it was all to visible that he didn’t believe that was the case either as he listened to the woman speak of the navy men, and possible post traumatic stress.

Payne knew all he needed to about PTSD, having suffered with it for a number of years now. “I hear it does strange things to a man, causes them to see, hear and feel things that aren’t there. That’s another reason I’m looking into this though, they didn’t have any history of psychological disorders. In fact, there were a few who hadn’t even been deployed in a combat role."
"Can you tell me anything else about the men?”

Kayla:
Looking a little surprised, the look slipping through her veneer she blinked a few times. She hadn't known that about them. In fact one had spun long yarns about his combat time to her to try to impress her one time but he'd been harmless, sent off home with a gentle pat on the shoulder as she helped him into the cab back to the base.

Slipping into the seat across from Preston she crossed her legs at the ankles in a very ladylike fashion and rested her Dew on the table. "Well they were all really nice fellas. Never grabby, always tipped well. Real stand up kinda guys. One of them was kinda loud but in that life of the party kind of way. I never saw him treat a person bad at all."

She raised her eyes and looked at Preston thoroughly, sizing him up it might have felt like. "But all them fellas...they. They're dead now. Is there an investigation into their deaths?" A more horrifying idea struck her "Do you think it has something to do with the bar? Like they were drugged?" she asked in a quieter tone.

Preston:
Preston spoke out in a calm tone, his eyes looking to Kayla’s. “ There is an investigation yes, as of right now the only thing that links them together is this bar.” He’d look out over the sandy beach, a half grin making itself visible. “You know anything about the history of this place? Any interesting stories?”

Kayla:
The worry was clear in her eyes as she sipped her drink, playing with the straw idly. She hadn't known the men that well but their deaths had still touched her. "I've heard some of the older folks talk about it." One slender shoulder lifted a little and fell. "They say it was a jail a long time ago. Couldn't tell ya when though.But that's about all I've heard of it. Been a bar for about twenty years now."

Preston:
“I’d like to thank you for your help Kayla, if you happen to think of anything else, or see something out of the ordinary. Please, do not hesitate to contact me at this number.” Pulling a pen out of his inner jacket pocket he wrote his cell number on the napkin and pushed it across the table to her before he stood, placed money on the table for his drink and hers.

Kayla:
She watched as he strolled off, her hand shaking as she reached over and picked up the napkin and stared at the number. A cop. Great.. as if her life wasn't stressful enough. She'd have to leave town soon. Couldn't risk being under the scrutinizing eyes of the law.

With a sigh she stood and looked in at the bar as the band was resetting, Ernie gesturing to her to come on. Putting a smile on that she didn't feel she nodded and slipped the napkin into her shirt, not having a pocket to slip it into.

Making her way up to the bandstand she took up the mic and pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind as the band dropped right into 'Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree' and she jumped in, smiling for the crowd and singing her heart out.

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Later that night......

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The lights down made the place look less cheerful than it did when the people were packing it and the band was playing. The last customer had left hours ago and it was only her now, slipped out of the heavy military jacket she'd worn on the stage and draped it over the stool at the bar. With a sigh she leaned against the bar and reached over it with one hand, grabbing a glass from under the counter and pulling the pins out of her hair with the other.

She shook her head and let those long tresses of milk chocolate tumble down her back as she reached for the bar nozzle, pressing the button to shoot cold Mountain Dew into the glass. It had been a long day. She looked forward to nothing more than getting out into the surf and working out the tension in her muscles. A ritual for her when closing up the bar. Usually she was the only one sober enough at the end of the night to lock the place up. The board sides of the walls had been dropped and locked, the front and back doors locked. Only the single window in the storeroom was left open to let the air flow through.

She felt safe in heading to the back room where she kept her duffel bag. Her footsteps echoed as she made it into the small room. The shirt pulled out of her skirt she started to unbutton it pausing as she thought she heard something, listening. But there was nothing there.

The ghost lurked though, waiting, watching, enjoying the stalking of his prey. She was perfect, exactly his type; the long brown hair, the innocence, the willowy figure. So much like his first victim. He watched from behind her as she changed out of the uniform costume.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose again and she shivered at the drop in temperature in the room. She didn't look at the mirror in front of her, didn't see the figure that loomed just over her shoulder, watching her. Ghostly hands followed the line of her collarbone and shoulder as it was exposed, the skin showing goosebumps from the cold touch as she shivers, slipping the shirt off and laying it on top of her duffel bag. Underneath she had her bikini top, prepared for the end of the night.

She had worn her bathing suit under the uniform, knowing that she would be locking up that night. Her skin was still pale, the swimming done typically at night. She wouldn't be going back to the motel tonight. Too risky. Not with the cop snooping around.

Kayla's discomfort increased as she unzipped the side of the skirt, shimmying out of it and stepping clear, the hangar on the back of the toilet picked up to put the skirt on it before she put the shirt there too. The cold seemed to grow more intense in the room, an ominous feeling entering the atmosphere. Goosebumps had broken out all over her body as she turned to look over her shoulder, a cold shiver running down her spine.

Luc Simone Aury drew that phantom finger down the curve of her spine, watching as the fear entered her eyes, the suspicion. He wanted more, wanted to see her scream in fear, to see the terror in her eyes, the pain that he could inflict in the right body.

The sound of glass breaking in the bar made her jump and barely contain a scream as she wrapped her towel around her, staring out in the direction of the front room. Her hand slipped into the duffle bag and felt for the gun in there, touching the cool metal of the long barreled Taurus .45. Pulling it out and clicking the hammer back slowly and silently, she held the towel around her with one hand as she crept toward the front, locked and loaded.

The gun looked huge in her small hand but she was comfortable with it as she crept silently up the hallway toward the faint glow of the bar. The sound of a door slamming and more glass breaking behind her made her whirl around, all wide eyes and gasped breath, her finger laying alongside the barrel and the grip, careful not to rest it on the trigger. She'd been taught about guns early in life. She knew it was easier to take that second to move her finger than it was to try to call back a fired bullet. As he breathed out her breath was visible in the air, her teeth nearly chattering with it as her body's adrenaline spiked.

She felt it this time, the icy cold hand that slipped around her throat and caressed before her airway was slowly constricted making her cough and choke, clawing at her throat but there wad nothing there to claw, her fingers only meeting her own flesh as she struggled with it. her other hand raised up and fired off a shot towards the back room, the loud boom of the .45's report filling the quiet of the bar as her lips started to turn blue, her face reddening with the lack of oxygen.

[prestonpayne]

The initial questioning of Kayla went as well as could be expected, and Payne opted to end it before she became suspicious of his true law enforcement credentials. Giving her his number, he slipped off in search of a place to hold up for the evening. The plan was pretty simple all in all, to wait until nightfall when all of the patrons had shuffled off to their homes and the bar had been locked down, then to partake in some unlawful activity; breaking and entering to be exact.

Preston roamed the boardwalk for an hour or so chatting up the locals, trying to find any possible leads on the assignment. Afterwards he went ahead and found a little motel a few blocks from the A1A, biding his time until the bar closed for the night. Payne decided to get a shower and ready his gear for this little stealth mission he was planning, being incredibly meticulous in his preparations, and making certain all of his equipment was functioning properly before packing it into a (Charcoal Colored 5.11 Tactical Sling Bag); carried in place of the saddlebags.

-------------------------------------------------

Once last call had come and gone, and night had turned into early morning. Preston covertly made his way back across the beach to the bar, moving cautiously so as not to be seen. Seen by whom exactly? Well, this early in the morning(about 3:00 AM) most would be at home in bed. But sometimes, especially out on the beach, you’ll occasionally run into a group of adrenaline junkies out night surfing, or a bum wandering around looking for a place to crash along the shore.

Moving around to a side door Preston slipped his right hand into his bag, removing a set of lock picks and placing the tension wrench into the lower portion of the keyhole. As he began the actual process of picking the lock, a voice spoke out from behind him; slurred and incoherent.

Random Drunk(Slurred): “ Eeeeey!…Nu dun do thad!..I’ma call the Polish!”

Preston: -Slowly turning Preston raised a brow, speaking quizzically to the well-oiled individual- “You do mean call the police, right?”

Random Drunk(Slurred): -Nodding to him the inebriated gentleman attempted to sound out the word- “Yea!.. The Po-Leeesh!”

Preston swiftly rushed the drunkard, wrapping his right arm around the mans neck and transitioning into position behind him; expertly applying a sleeper hold. Within a matter of a few seconds the intoxicated man had fallen limp and unconscious, concealing the comatose individual in the shadows he returned back to the entrance; this time only to hear a gunshot crack off from inside.

It would be safe to say that things weren’t working out as planned. In fact, after the gunshot had gone off, the old plan had pretty much flown right out the window. Preston’s combat instincts kicked in, his right hand darting inside his jacket and drawing forth one of the custom Kimber Gold Combat II handguns. Taking a tactical shooters stance outside the doorway, Payne breached the door; slipping inside the structure.

Leveling the .45 Preston began his sweep of the area, scanning the immediate surroundings for opposition, and he found exactly what he was looking for. Kayla stood trapped in place by a malicious spirit, it’s appearance being that of a dark man sized silhouette standing behind her. The only distinguishing features of this shadow man were a pair of eerie orbs where the eyes would have normally been, each completely devoid of life and as black as an infinite abyss.

Preston: “It’s not nice to hurt a lady!… Didn’t your momma ever teach you any manners, boy!?”

The malevolent apparition let out an angry hiss, disappearing and in a split-second emerging from thin air; grasping the militant hunter by the throat. Preston found himself dangling off the ground, a cold ghostly hand wrapped around his throat. With every breath steam emanated from his mouth, his lungs beginning to feel as if they were filling with ice. Struggling for air, he desperately grasped at his bag; attempting to retrieve his sawed off Remington.

Preston:-Clutching the shotguns handle tight in his right hand he smiled, whispering out in between sharp gasps- “One of us, is in big trouble!..”

Yanking the weapon free from the tactical sling bag, he whipped it around firing on the infuriated spook; causing it to dissipate for the time being. Preston was laying there motionless, peering up at the ceiling after having been dropped heavily to the hardwood floor; attempting to catch his breath. After a few moments of reflection, he rolled all the way back onto his shoulders, kicking his feet out and recoiling; kipping effortlessly to his feet.

Preston: -Glancing toward Kayla he broke open the breach of the shotgun, reloading it with fresh salt rock shells.- “You alright?”

[Deleted]

Her vision was swimming as she heard voice and saw a darkened shape that approached, the lack of oxygen getting to her brain having her on the edge of passing out. Only her sheer stubbornness kept her awake at all. But suddenly she was coughing as she dropped to the floor, her legs not holding her as she is released and the angry spirit attacked Preston. Her hand at her throat she sucked in air greedily and blinked her eyes to try to get them to focus. Her towel was still around her but it had slipped ot her waist, leaving her laying there in her bikini top and the towel like a sarong.

She watched as the dark, shadowy figure lifted the man up off the floor and he struggled. It was only then that she realized who it was, the cop from earlier that night, and her eyes went wide. A small gasp left her lips as he fired the gun and hit the ground, the shadowy things nowhere to be seen.

She was frozen, unable to move as she watched him lay there, wondering if he were alright. But then he flipped up to his feet so effortlessly and started reloading and she scrambled back a bit. Putting on a brave and friendly face for the customers in the relatively safe environment of a crowd was one thing. Being alone in the dark, half dressed, with a man with a gun was another.

It was only then that she remembered her own hand canon she held and raised it as she stood slowly, pointing it at Preston. "Yeah...fine. But you just stay over there." she says, her voice shaking.