Shiori stumbles out of the back entrance of the library, next to the loading dock. She almost falls down the steps, but manages to keep her balance by wheeling her arms around her. The glove flies off her right hand, but she doesn't notice
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Don't be so foolish. The absolute disgust in the thought startled him. It just didn't seem to be his at all.
He reluctantly put the gun into it's holder, and let go. "This is crazy, it doesn't make any sense..."
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He looks around. "Hey, a fun house! Fun houses have halls of mirrors, right? Might be easier to lose them in something like that," he suggests.
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"I think we should find a police officer instead," he muttered, glancing at the hand that tightly gripped Shiori's. "The more we - "
And then the knife-like pain stabbed in his side again, and twisted. Nate doubled over, gasping.
" - Nrgh!"
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Greg may envy Nate his wife, but he's not so cruel-hearted as to ignore a guy who's DEFINITELY in pain. He runs towards him. "Hey! Hey, you okay?! Keep it together!"
Kind of ironic coming from him.
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"Greg, grab his other arm." Her voice wavers, but she manages not to let herself go. "We have to get inside." She maneuvers herself under Nate's left arm, waiting for Greg to take the other one, and then walks them into the fun house.
...and promptly stops just inside the door. They're off of the street, and she needs to pay attention to Nate now, please and thank you. "Nate? Nate, it's okay. It's just the heartburn."
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Then he blinked, the blood was gone, and the pain was fading. It was just in his head. This was all just in his head.
Nate groaned. No. No, focus. "I-I'm okay. I can walk. Let's just - let's just keep going."
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Whether they're in the hall of mirrors or not, there certainly seem to be a lot of reflective surfaces around and about. They reach the official entrance soon enough, though Shiori hesitates. "We're already inside. Do we really...do we really need to go in there?" A feeling of uneasiness washes over her, a different uneasiness than the fear of that pale man pursuing them.
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"Greg, hang onto me, will you? The last thing we need to do is get separated." Something prickled at the base of his neck. Instinct, old and familiar at last, telling him they needed to move.
"Let's go."
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This feels a little weird, grabbing hold of another guy, but he knows it'd be a bad idea at this point to get lost. Especially in a crazy place like this. That said, he finds the mirrors oddly reassuring, though he can't explain why. Like it reflects a confident him, or something.
He envies the reflection.
"Man, I hope they don't have magical maze powers too," he mutters.
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Crack.
Shiori stops in her tracks, looking at the long, spidery crack extending along the mirror in front of her. A white blouse, a brown bag...no gloves...is that blood? Shiori's mouth drops open as she sees her reflection, standing there, nonthreatening. From her hands, somehow leaking out from beneath unbroken skin, blood drips to the floor. Even more unnerving is the fact that Shiori instinctively knows it's not her own blood.
Her grip on Nate tightens as her sight blurs, her eyes watering. "What's...happening?"
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The man staring back at him was him, but not him. His suit was darker, more stylish. He held a knife, bloody and dripping, in one hand.
His expression was cold and calculating, but his eyes - it was the eyes that disturbed Nate the most. He had seen those eyes before, in the faces of human monsters.
He had the eyes of the devil.
"I am going mad," he whispered.
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He looks at himself in the mirror again. Nope. Not seeing it. Though he wonders how the mirror makes it look like he's wearing a pendant like that. Something about it is oddly familiar, though. Familiar, and warm. He wishes he had something like that.
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Breathing heavily, Shiori puts a hand to her forehead, leaning against Nate. "That's...not you, Nate. It isn't." She doesn't know why, but that seems like the right thing to say.
The crack spreads, smaller shards of glass beginning to fall off, littering the ground in front of them. And beside them. And behind them.
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In the process, he lost his grip on Greg (two voices, the one that was Nate and the one that belonged to the devil in the mirror, bickered over whether or not he was sorry about that in his head). His hold on Shiori's hand, however, never wavered, but the shock of the transition held him stunned and silent.
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