Must be some performance artist, or some religious wacko.

What the hell, it isn’t dinner time for a few more hours, I might as well kill some time listening to the nutjob. I move in with the crowd to hear what he’s saying.

As he noticed all the people beginning to speak to the man, Miles was beginning to get unnerved for some reason…he quickly closed his sketchbook and stuffed it into his bag, which he had slung around his shoulder. Slowly standing up, he looked around, analyzing his surroundings with a faint hint of paranoia…He hadn’t been paying attention to the conversations that had been going on, so he wanted to ask the man who he was…he slowly approached him, trying not to choke as he seemed very nervous about speaking to the man…

Arman is still reeling from the screams of torment. A few minutes later he manages to muster the energy to utter a few simple words.

“I’m… I’m Arman.”

After that he fell to the floor. He is still conscious but he cannot pull himself together.

I figured I was already nearby, Veer…but no problem.

Anthony realized that the man in black wanted his attention (among that of others). However, he also knew that the man was somehow related to the pink beasts that had cost him so much sleep, peace of mind, and (slowly-but-surely} sanity.

Against his better judgment, he slowly rose to his feet and slowly crept towards the mysterious stranger.

After seing a small crowd gather around the stranhge man, Quentin decides he’l finally make his move. He walks over and catches the man saying we should all introduce ourselves. He sighs. Quentin is not good with people. “Quentin” he says reluctantly as he looks to the side. He fiddles around with the loose change left in his pocket left from the movies, and wonders where Bob could be, and whats taking him so long?

Chad has been dropped.

All

Quixote smiles, and holds up both hands, fingers extended. “Ten. We’re missing one, but I don’t think that matters anymore.”

Pulling out the cigarette and tossing it into the fountain behind him, he sighs, and begins to speak once more.

“I’m going to tell you what you’re… oh, for the love of… hey!”

Turning to Arman, he kicks him forcefully, and his smile fades. “Up, boy! You have no reason to be squirming now, and it’s starting to annoy me. First you ruin a perfectly good iPod, and now you’re holding up everyone else. As for you…”

He grabs Clair’s hands and pulls them off her ears. Silence.

“It’s gone! Your blasted hallucinations are gone now! Those things you see, the things you hear, they’re not going to annoy you anymore. You’re under my protection.”

fyi ooc to tell you you’re not going to hallucinate anymore please stop it

“And now you’re going to wonder how I did that. The rest of you, you haven’t spoken up about your names, so I bumume you don’t care. And if you don’t care, neither do I.”

And again back to grinning. Quiet once more.

“Now, you’ve been Illuminated. It’s basically a condition which opens your mind to those horrid things you see. I’m not sure if they’re real, or something projects them, but the point is that I’ve figured out how to shut them down. The organization which does it is known as the Illuminati, but it has no relation to the Illuminati you know in conspiracy theories.”

Here, Quixote pauses, and shrugs.

“I think. The point is, you want revenge on these bastards, as do I. Care to join me?”

One last pause, and then a chuckle.

“That’s not really a choice, by the way. Joining me, and you lose everything you have: your life, your friends, your family. You can hold onto them, but you’ll eventually lose them. But if you don’t join me, well, I certainly am not going to shield people who refuse my generosity.”

There was a loud yelp, and Ann glanced at the dogs. She immediately turned bright red, and took a few steps away. He’d have to deal with his new friend by himself for the moment. Whiskey whimpered, remembering his days at the pound: He’d always been too pretty for prison.

“Um, is that a threat, Mr. Keyhotee or whoever you are?” Ann could feel her voice getting shrill with nervousness. “Because… Well, you’re going around kicking people and being all vague, and it seems awful suspicious that you know about some complete strangers hallucinating. How do we know you’re not causing them? ...And what do you mean by revenge?” She waved her arms around a bit in a frustrated gesture.

“I don’t know, buddy, I sort of like my significant friends and family. I mean, I’ve got this mother marm, my Pa lives on a farm…”

I pause to think for a little bit, and finally see the light.

“You know what, maybe this could finally get me out of this damn dead-end job. I’m in!”

My face pinches in obvious aggression.

“You don’t make much of an argument, old man. And I don’t feel like chasing after your windmills, Quixote.”

I laugh, thinking the world of that witticism.

“You’re saying some grand things here, right? Without saying much of anything, really. Reeks of a set up. You got power? Why need us then?”

“you mean these images are not in my head?” Jacques mutters. Jacques feels an incredible rage build up in him, he feels a tear in his right eye. and this isn’t a tear of sadness but a tear of anger for all the torment he had gone through for all these years.

Jacques shouts in anger “First of all: my name still is none of your business, second: that Iluminati of yours seriously sounds like a conspiracy and sixth and most important: Why the hell would I join you! For all I know you could be part of this organization or some wicked conspiracy YOURSELF!”, Jacques takes a breath, “What’s next? Follow the white bunny? And then being captured for sicko sadistic experiments in a somewhere in Eastern Europe?”. Jacques looks deep in Quixote’s eyes but then suddenly his mobile phone rings and vibrates again, this is a very inappropriate time to get called. Jacques gets distracted and looks at his mobile; it’s his sister again. Jacques doubts whether he should pick it up or not.