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"First order is, um..." Dahlia was nervous here, doing a mission alone and with these people's hopes and podiatric health at stake. On top of some of the looks she got from townsfolk, it didn't seem like her fidgety demeanor had instilled much confidence. Regardless of that though the woman was determined to solve this mystery, and so re-checked her handy note pad. All that was written was the contents of the letter and a list that just said "Talk to person without mark." So, first order was- "Talk to Mark the Unmarked." She made her way with directions to the unmarked's house.

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"Hi there, my name's Yvgeny." Okay, Yvgeny the Unmarked. Dahlia scribbled out something on her notepad but continued. "Alright Yvgeny, could you uh, tell me what you know?" The amateur ghost-hunter had only ever done this sort of thing as a passing hobby, and had never been the face of the group. She would have to channel her best force of personality and get the answers she needed. Thankfully Yvgeny was easy-going and forthcoming, and pretty succinctly explained he'd come back from a salvage job the same night this all started. Damn, one suspect down. Maybe (definitely) Dahlia was gullible, but he had seemed pretty honest, and had even gone as far as to show her the interior of his home, his drawers, his reflective safety-light collection. No stolen socks, hose, or stockings. Of course he could be hiding them somewhere, but what was Dahlia supposed to do, storm in and ransack the place?

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No, this would take more tact. She continued talking to other folks, asking about their experiences with the marks on their faces, the kinds of things taken, but the only connecting factors were that it happened at night, everyone says they had a weird dream they can't remember, and they all woke up with weird cuts on their faces.

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It just wasn't enough to go on. Dahlia wandered the village, taking notes as best she could, but she was stumped. It didn't really sound like a scary mystery, just a mundane and rather skilled thief. With night closing in she was offered a room to stay in a guest room, and while sleeping in a strange village was the stuff of horror movie nightmares, Dahlia wanted to trust in the kind heart of people just trying to get by in apocalypse. Plus she didn't really have anything to steal, as it was all tucked away in her inventory. Save for her fluffy socks...

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[attr="class","scared69"]

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New first order of operations- investigate Yvgeny again. Dahlia had seen lots of television and movies and knew she needed to be discreet here, so she'd have to go about her day like any other. The horror fan made a point to stay hidden, not doing further rounds around the town and doing her best to keep her cheek hidden. She would wait until nightfall and spring her trap then. It was just a matter of re-reading over her notes, making sure she understood the crime. The only question was why. To someone less naive there were likely a myriad of reasons to guess at, but Dahlia was still fumbling over the big pink glaring issue. It had also been weird for her to be in a stressful situation and not have a nightmare, but instead a fairly uneventful dream. "Except there was that blood, and something else? What was it?"

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She spent a lot of time pondering but night soon fell in the cold little town, and Dahlia left her host house to stake out Yvgeny's place. It was a struggle staying awake, but she managed, and around one am something strange happened. A scream, a yell from inside the home; Yvgeny's voice. Either he was a good actor or the newest victim. Dahlia hadn't been able to see every corner of the home and was well aware there was at least one window unaccounted for in her line of sight, and rushed from the roof she'd clambered onto and likely been seen from. Had she been made and was now being tricked? Time would tell.

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Rounding the corner of the home, she saw the open window. The flash of pink was most noticeable as it exited the home, moving as if in recording of too few frames. It was birdlike, but even in the gloom seemed made of something shiny, almost plastic. No, it *was* plastic. The dream came rushing back, there at the very end in that garden supply store, underneath the harsh halogen lights...

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"A lawn flamingo?!" It turned on it's one stationary leg and began hopping toward Dahlia at an intense speed, it's leg a black and white; those were Dahlia's socks underneath a new stolen pair of boots. She screamed and prepared the first thing her hands could grab- the notebook she had been using to keep track of the crime- and hurled it at the oncoming mobile decoration, spiking the thing away and onto it's side. It ceased to move. Dahlia inched closer. The flamingo did not move. She moved closer still, nearly able to reach down and grab it. The thing was still. Deactivated, or maybe just playing dead.

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Dahlia waited the whole night like that, having grabbed a flashlight and training it on the laminate burglar, but it never stood back up, never even shook or wobbled or moved. As the sun rose Dahlia was able to more clearly see that the flamingo's eyebrows were frozen at a raised angle, giving it a cartoonish and angry visage. She retrieved her stockings and gave Yvgeny his shoes back, and after two more days of investigation was finally able to find a nest in the city nearby with everyone's belongings. The flamingo itself stayed inert, but Dahlia kept it sealed in a locked safe in her inventory, just in case. Sometimes when she dons her shoes for the day ahead, she feels she can almost hear the slightest of scratching, talon against metal. But that couldn't be, right?

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