[attr="class","frame154"]

[attr="class","lowe15reescroll"]
[break][break]
This is what doom felt like. Chills ran deep into Esther’s bones as the specter continued to close in on it. While her amusement with the ghost’s vintage French warden’s uniform dissipated as its long, terribly bony fingers clawed around looking for any sign of life. In return, Esther’s mind continued to ponder if she even still alive. Remaining behind her little piece of cover could only keep her hidden for so long. Its claws closed in around her, its chains draggling along the ground. Between hums she heard it sniffing, its head poking out just above her.
[break][break]
Frozen, Esther struggled to build the confidence to start running. She was far from equipped for this. Ghosts had to be where she drew the line. This was far too much to take in at once. All she was able to do was sit as still as she could, and hopelessly hope that this creature wouldn’t look down. A creak from right above her head brought her throat into a knot. In what was either a span of a second or a thousand years, its head began to crane down, grinding against its spectral bones.
[break][break]
Absolutely hopeless. The end. Until suddenly a hefty metallic clang shattered any sense of tension. Snaping away, just in time, the specter turned towards a challenging clank that cut through the terrible silence that Esther endured. It clued her in to the fact that she wasn’t alone with this terrible ghostly apparition, what’s more, it was off, dragging itself away from her and towards the loud entrant.
[break][break]
Breathing a sigh of relief, she began to unwind. Yet the noise continued, a challenging shout disrupted any chance Esther had to collect and distribute her thoughts into more productive spheres. This voice, while not directly familiar, was certainly vaguely in Esther’s wheelhouse of reference, “'Ey tough guy, why don’t you keep it down!” The Brooklynite shouted in her own hoarse voice, unintentionally causing the ghostly Frenchman to bounce back towards her, still having noticed, Esther continued her tirade, “Friggin’ blade… Go ahead, see what happens.” Was her usual response to threats, even if they weren’t necessarily aimed at her, and more at the ghosts which also posed a grave danger to her.

[attr="class","frame15"]

[attr="class","frame154"]

[attr="class","lowe15reescroll"]
[break][break]
The little quiet she had accrued had been whisked away with another string of expressions of frustration (well earned, given the circumstances). What’s more the chains ground their way through the hall, quieting on Esther’s end. Homing in on the shouts she was left with only the mild utterance of, “This friggin’ guy.” Under her breath.
[break][break]
Leaning out, she got a glimpse of the clacking specter, fading away. Slapping the top of the generous portion of concrete she had for cover, the full gravitas of her doom came rushing back. While the ghost had abandoned her, she faced the problem that it was heading exactly where she needed to go. Staying in the cellblock was bound to be problematic. There was no way out, and she had little room for maneuverability. It was a tight squeeze through most of complex, but at the very least, this wing had a more plausible exit. She had a limited grasp on what it could do, only that reacted to noise… which wasn’t that unusual for a guard.
[break][break]
While its structure had stood up to the scrutiny that was both the ravages of time and the ruthlessness of nature. Just the thing, a large hunk of concrete, which after much frustration, proved far too heavy to wield. Hopeless. Instead, she had to go down all the way to plan F. Quickly, she started stacking the smaller hunks atop one another, leaving a teetering, teetering, terribly off-balance structure in her wake.
[break][break]
As challenging as it was, she quietly made her way down the corridor, following the specter. Any minute now, she was expecting her wicked game of Jenga to come crashing down. Diving into one of the cells, she “That friggin’ guy.” Terror quickly overrode the many facets of Esther’s rough façade. Javert, as she had taken to calling him, had cornered whom Esther—through some brilliant sleuthing—inferred to be a source of the echoing tough guy rhetoric. Locked in mêlée, both parties seemed occupied.
[break][break]
Leaving her cell, Esther crept close to the wall, her back against it as she shimmied along, as low as she could comfortably go. A rondo of crashing stone bounced throughout the cellblock, signaling that Esther’s contraption had finally tipped. The spectral jailer spun its head around, facing away from its target, before shifting its body and hobbling away.
[break][break]
Glad her wild scheme seemed to work, Esther signaled to the swearing, roaring brute (affectionate) with a simple tilt of her head. They could move. However, she could feel a chill set upon her, from the ghostly visage’s still staring socket. Prepared for the head to pop off and chase them down, Esther sighed, far too preoccupied to even be taken aback by the height of the man. She had very reason to believe she could trust this guy or level with him, but the matter of getting out proved difficult alone, “I don’t know about you, tough guy, but I’ve already had enough of this.” She attempted, with a typically awkward bit of unprompted small talk. Such tempting fate was usually quick to be answered.

[attr="class","frame15"]

[attr="class","frame154"]

[attr="class","lowe15reescroll"]
[break][break]
It seemed like a safe assumption that this guy, for all his rough posturing, and general air of illicit weapon trading, that this guy belonged in prison. Yet, he was clearly confused. Taking a brief sliver of a second to recollect that, yes, the little piece of world that they were both aware of was in tatters, and that suddenly, ghosts were real; then it was not out of the picture that this guy did not actually belong here. Preferring to soften the blow, she simply suggested, “Yeah back atcha, and uh… we’re in the East River.”
[break][break]
She was not going to settle with any of this ‘my dear’ business, not off the cuff. Quickly, she spun into Xibalba’s second category. But priorities needed to be kept in order. These two could have very well have been the last human beings alive, and it would be a terrible first day if she chose to further instigate conflict by bringing up this man’s (unknown) mother in unfavorable terms. Dire straits had cooled her head, allowing her to prevail against her own antagonistic impulses, “Esther Estrada-Levin.” She flatly replied, offering a limp hand.
[break][break]
There was a point where she was partially convinced it was a sicko in a suit, but she threw that thought aside when it twisted its entire head around without breaking its neck. Truly horrific stuff, Esther was far from amused. In the midst of a crisis of faith, and Scooby-Doo-esque expression of ‘g-g-g-ghosts. Returning what was left of the world of the living, "We're gettin' outta here is what, tough guy, and whatever that gaunt Russell Crowe is, we're keepin' it a--
[break][break]
A rattling shriek overwhelmed Esther’s flow of thought. She had just taken the very step around a new and unexplored corner. While she was anticipating getting more out of this terrifying ordeal, she was beginning to think someone was laughing at her expense. Frustration bled into a livid shout of, “Oh you gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’.” Once her head poked around the corner. Ahead of them, sweeping from on high sat a clattering skull acting as a sick bastard’s idea of a security camera.
[break][break]

[attr="class","frame15"]

[attr="class","frame154"]

[attr="class","lowe15reescroll"]
[break][break]
“Ms. Esther? Perfect, Mr. Barakat. This joint is fallin’ apart, sure you can find some rebar somewhere.” She suggested addressing his concerns concerning his lack of a weapon. But the weapon had to wait. They had been found out, noise and its terrible consequences, didn’t need to be tested further.
[break][break]
Wincing and continuing to move with a sense of urgency, she maintained her goal to try and lead the two through the increasingly unfamiliar complex. The audacity of its staff remained mesmerizing, “It’s gotta be an alarm, these jerks, bringing back prison of all things.” She groaned with a voice of raspy contempt. The soft clattering of ghostly bone on dusty concrete began to follow them, somehow making it over the continued wailing of the ghostly watchmen.
[break][break]

Yet some time down the hall, one word finally caught up with Esther, and it wasn't the 'fancy' descriptor, although that did influence her line of thought. A life altering amount of amazing incidents had passed by the two. So far, nothing had even been on the cusp of what she would have previously believed. However, the last moment of this man’s memory was the proverbial straw downing the proverbial camel, “Wait!? Egypt? As in, 'Ten Commandments' Egypt?” Esther finally barked in a frantic whisper, well after the offending comment had been made.
[break][break]

She had been working under the assumption that Xibalba had washed in from elsewhere, obviously. To her, elsewhere started out as anywhere in New York or even New Jersey. It was a diverse city, in a diverse era, she wasn’t stopped by a name that sounded exotic to her ears, she didn’t jump to him being from the other side of the planet.
[break][break]

Her own peril seemed a distant thought. Stopping for a moment, “Hold the–“ She began a thought, only to cut herself abruptly as the whirling screech of the security head and the incoming grinding of rusty chains filled the halls. Balling her first and emoting with some traditional saber rattling she turned her attention backwards, “Shuddup, ya putz, don’t make go over there, won’t be nothing but a split jaw and pile of splinters.” She threatened, meeting her surviving eye with the vacant sockets of the ghost-camera. Perplexed, the head stopped its malicious wailing, although the damage was already done.
[break][break]

The aforementioned consequences reared their ugly, ugly heads. Behind them it was clear that the first specter that plagued them, was more than happy to make a return. Ahead of them, threatened a another approaching shadow, secured on both sides by a pair of studier silhouettes, moving in brilliantly synchronized 24 frames-per-second.
[break][break]

Esther, having been effectively countered by a variation on, “no you shuddup” did just that, grumbling a bit. Pincered between hostiles, with an open, partially woodland jailcell to their left, Esther's own options wore thin. Her inventory flashed across her face, as her own thoughts wrapped themselves up in 'What if I had a friggin' weapon' A dismissive wave of the hand had selected her "beginner's knife" which rudely shot out from thin air before clattering into the cold ground. It's blade flashed as it fell pass the cell, calling attention to a severe leak of light from between the leaves.

[attr="class","frame15"]

[attr="class","frame154"]

[attr="class","lowe15reescroll"]
[break][break]
It was difficult to argue, as much as she didn’t want to believe it. This whole jail escape had proven to be a complete disaster. One misstep after another leading to apocalypse. What truly stung was that there was nobody to truly blame. It all came down to bad, bad luck. Esther could only curse under her breath, at the thought. Yet, when it came to just what exactly had had happened, her mood was altogether different, “Magician? No, I don’t friggin’ know what happened there… ” She echoed Xibalba’s confusion.
[break][break]
Very little had connected. Kneeling down, she took hold of the glittering blade. It sure beat nothing, so long as she didn’t have anything to compare it to. These few brief seconds of ignorance was rudely stolen away from her. Her almost lifelong ally had taken control of his inventory as well, pulling an impressive piece unfit for a jailhouse brawl out of nowhere. Holding the hilt of knife, daintily in the backhand of her index and middle fingers, she glanced at the overwhelming look of confidence across his face, and a devilish sword to back it up, "Well there's your weapon, looks like trouble."
[break][break]
It was hardly the time to get jealous, it’s not like they had to fight each other. Switching to a more appropriately stabby stance Esther steeled her nerves, “Alright, tough guy, let’s get’em” she bellowed. That couldn’t be it. Putting her mind squarely on the menus, she returned to the first few screens that had popped up that day. Much of [Mastermind] proved completely irrelevant. What could a heist do in this scenario? However, she saw that she wasn’t without options. Getting past the videogame logic, it was written clear as day that she could switch one item for another. Her eye set on the nearby pod, she could sus out a few blocks of concrete misplaced by the growing tree. Once she figured out how to actually accomplish what was written, she had a plan.
[break][break]
There was no time for practice. The jailors’ terrible hammer and anvil came to pass. Back to back, Esther had come face to face with Javert. Slow, shambling, and possibly a representative of the New York State Department of Corrections. She had hoped to be done with him from the moment she laid eye on him, but here he stood again, humming the very same leitmotif.
[break][break]
As a test of concept, Esther scooped up a pebble and launched it at the jailor, “Switcheroo…” She muttered to no effect. On her second attempt, the pebble struck true. Third, she decided to think a bit before she tossed her pebble. Far too close for comfort, she didn’t have anywhere else to go. Nearly face to face with her archnemesis, she took a deep breath. Concentrating, she focused her attention on the two objections in question, and she let the pebble go. Getting caught in the jailor’s uniform; she finally pulled the dirty trick off. A pebble made way for a chunk of concrete roughly the size of Esther’s thorax, pinning the apparition down in a mess of straining bone.

[attr="class","frame15"]

[attr="class","frame154"]

[attr="class","lowe15reescroll"]
[break][break]
Frankly, she shouldn’t have been surprised when the severed remnants of old Javert had continued on without the ‘meat’ or their meatless body. Contending with arms crawling around on fingers, and a jabbering skull creeping her way. All at once, she was given far too much to take in. Her willing suspension of disbelief had been strained far too astray, and as if she was in a dark movie theater, she had to let her grievances be known, “Hey jackass, what’re you even gonna friggin’ do? Scratch me?!” Which Javert responded to by clawing at Esther’s ankle.
[break][break]


Her jumpsuit had been torn. While her skin remained intact, she still felt an unusual, agonizing chill searing up her leg. Death rang coldly in her mind. Gritting her teeth, she responded appropriately; stabbing at the swaying, swinging arm. Finding it difficult to switch her moves up, shifting into a ruthless stomp. Already, she had reached the limits of what was available to her. Truly left with a challenge, she struggled to come to grips that she, a grown woman, had to contend with battling scraps of a ghostly skeleton.
[break][break]

In her struggle, she had lost sight of what had been going down right behind her. Even with Javet, suddenly chomping down on the meager knife she had on offer, was not enough to hold her attention.
[break][break]

Just as she had lost him, Xibalba, for his foot of distance, had made himself known. She hadn’t been prepared for a speech, or moreover, she wasn’t prepared for one so heated. The man’s vicious weapon had been intimidating enough, at least as far as Esther was concerned. Now, she was simply concerned, feeling an intense warmth against the whole of her back. Just drawing the damn thing should have been enough, setting the blade afire was one hell of an extra mile. Taken aback, she and Javert glanced, curious to catch a glimpse at the hell being wrought. Raising an eyebrow, “Whoa pal, just how tough are you?.” She asked earnestly, running her knife--Javert attached--into one of the crawling arms.
[break][break]

Attempting to repeatedly attempt another switcheroo proved futile. Repeatedly, she was assailed by the cooldown window. For now, she was content to wildly stab at what remained of her persistent foe. All while her companion went through with what perhaps the most metal act Esther’s surviving eye had ever witnessed outside of a screen. Considering it wasn’t the most strenuous, she was able to apply her mind elsewhere. Mainly on the convenience they may have had, “Alright, once you’re done burnin’ those rags to ashes, I think I can sort a way out of here.”

[attr="class","frame15"]