This story is the product of the combined minds of XxLochNessMonsterxX and Lilly-rain, hope ya all enjoy and remember; feedback is our friend!

**please note all names of cities or towns mentioned in this story have completely come from the absurd imagination of Stumpy and GWPUHA**

Enjoy the story,

Chapter One

It was late afternoon and the sun was slowly setting leaving an orange glow that warmed the city like an oven. It wasn't an odd sight to see people in Qubert rush for the cool air conditioned pubs, away from the scorching streets in the hope of a cold pint. On this particular day, two older men sat in the far corner of a cool and smoky pub named, The Iced Lake.

It wasn't a new pub, with a few simple fans hanging from the ceiling to keep cool air circulating through the room, and that horrible multicoloured carpet that you would only associated with an old building, it didn't look particularly welcoming. Yet, what it did offer, was the boisterous laughter and happy atmosphere that made the place so appealing to the locals.

Situated relatively close along Fifth St. these men were regulars, who would often come in after work for a few beers and a cheap meal with the aim to catch the start of the game on the fuzzy TV mounted up on the wall in the opposite far corner.

One man, with messy red hair, was slowly chewing on a plate of hot chips, one already half in his mouth as he stared blankly at the TV screen, wishing the game would start before he had to head back to work.

His friend, a scrawnier looking man with brownish hair, wasn't watching the TV, his dark eyes were watching the pretty young barmaid while he sipped on his beer slowly, the cold bringing a sense of satisfaction that made his hand mop roughly across his forehead, his gaze never straying from the almost red chestnut shade of the girls shoulder length hair.

The girl was wiping down the drinks spilt by earlier patrons on the front bar, mumbling silently to the background music that was softly floating around her, and he found this fascinating. His fingers tapped the side of his beer glass as he watched, his head tilted to the side, like a wild cat considering its prey.

The girl didn't notice his gaze, she was busy tending to an older man who you wouldn't expect to find in a sports pub, with a greying head of hair and a thin frame, he was seated on a stool and looking her way as he spoke about taxes and pensions. She smiled politely when the man laughed loudly at his own joke before he ordered another drink.

The girl liked this best about working at The Iced Lake. She found it fascinating hearing the stories of war patrons and the bizarre accounts of what to do with your chewing gum once you had finished with it. Each day she felt like she went home knowing something new about the world and today was no different.

The man she was talking to was a politician, not her average customer, but interesting nevertheless. She had never expected to find a politician interesting; he was telling her about tax rates and his role in the government. Normally politics would have bored her, but the passion in his eyes seemed to send a delightful sense of contagious warmth through her body.

A person with as much passion over their work as this man evidently did made her triumph in his fortune. Something that she wished she possessed. It wasn't that she didn't love her job; it was just tiring, mentally and physically. Sometimes she wished she could spend the evening wrapped up in a thermal blanket watching Charmed re-runs, until she couldn't peel her eyes open any longer. Yet, for a job like hers there were some perks. She looked over at the plate of free food that she received every night as a thank you for her hard work, and inhaled the smell deeply.

It was then that she felt her eyes draw to the scrawny man in the corner. She had no idea why her eyes rested on his head of curly brown hair. He didn't seem to be paying her any attention, only running a rough finger continuously around the rim of his glass. He was looking at the old TV pinned precariously to the wall, the slight tip of his mouth brought up in a light smirk.

He looked normal enough, she decided, pulling her eyes away and running a cloth over the counter, mopping up yet another spillage. However, she once again felt her mind wander. This time when she looked over at the man, he was staring at her, his gaze locked with her own. She looked away first.

Although the girl found it creepy that this man was looking at her, she had a job to do. It wasn't the first time she had caught hooligans' eyes roaming and it was not likely to be the last. All she could do was grit her teeth and pretend they were thinking about goldfish.

"Hi, what can I get you?" She said politely to a man in a soccer shirt, holding a few crisp notes in his hand.

"Foster's please," the man said, smiling at her as she grabbed the glass, humming to the background music.

The rest of the late afternoon continued like this, people coming and going, conversations starting and dying. It was how things worked.

She was nearing the midway point of her shift when the man who had been watching her finally decided to move. It was dark outside and a chill had settled in like thick fog, replacing the stifling heat of the midday sun; two extremes in one day. The weather was almost foreboding, the air feeling thick with moisture, as it did before a huge storm.

His chair scraped along the floor and that was an odd feat considering there was carpet under the wooden legs. This drew her attention and she watched him leave with steps that were full of confidence and austerity. Following the movement of his hand reaching up towards the push sign, she placed her foot, that was absentmindedly kicking shut a cupboard, on the ground.

Seeing a flash of black coloured movement to her left she tried to avert her eyes onto an insignificant detail, but her eyes remained on the man, her eyes captivated on his delicate movements. When the door swung shut, sending a whoosh of turbulent air she turned her head back to the black.

Focusing her eyes on the blurring blob she was surprised to see another man. A man she had not seen before. The man disappeared out of the door before she had a chance to have a proper look, but from a quick glance at just the back of his head she knew that he was different to the scrawny brown haired man. This guy looked bigger, with sharp actions that reminded her of a striking snake, ready to catch its prey. His black hair looked like someone had hacked at it with a pair of sheep shears, and he had on a faded coat that stretched tightly across his back, almost as if he had no money to buy a coat for his own size.

Immediately she was alert, her suspicion raised. Who was that man? She didn't recognise him as one of the regulars.

"Sarah, do you mind if I go for a quick break?" She asked, glancing at the now closed door. Something was happening, she could feel it.

"Yeah, sure thing Kitty," Sarah said walking up behind her and taking the wet cloth from her pink hands.

"Thanks,"

"No problem, just be back before the place starts filling up with people coming home from work," she said, walking back to the bar and filling a glass with gold liquid, its contents frothing white bubbles on the top.

"Don't worry; I will only be a minute or two."

Kitty did not waste any time loitering about, darting with frenzied feet towards the door, her lightly clothed body hitting a wall of cold air. Gasping she clutched her arms, rubbing them furiously.

"God-damn-it," she muttered, as she thought about her coat hanging on a peg inside the pub, wishing she had taken the extra few minutes to quickly grab it before she came outside. What was she doing out here anyway?

A passing car caught her attention as the engine noisily obstructed her hearing, its bright headlights washing over her body blinding her for a few moments, and then it was gone, cruising down the road only its tail lights twinkling. Shaking her head a little she thought about how crazy she was being right now, she needed to stop over-thinking things. Of course it was silly to be thinking morbid thoughts, she contemplated, watching the car round the bend and disappear out of sight.

She turned back to enter the pub and the warmth that it offered, raising one cold hand up to the door. When she was about to push it open a faint noise caught her attention. Standing still as her eyes trailed over all the dark shadows around her, the trees looming threateningly in the dark, she shook her head, "It's just my imagination," she whispered softly to herself, but then she heard it again, much clearer this time.

Tilting her head to the side a gush of wind picked up all around her like a mini tempest, blowing her hair into her eyes. As she brushed it back her gaze wandered towards the corner wall of the pub where the car park was situated. Through the roar of the wind passing her ears she picked up a harsh voice. It almost sounded like a monotone chanting, quiet and muffled, but the tone was strong.

Dropping her hand from the door, she took a cautionary step forward, her curiosity getting the better of her as she felt this dominating need to go and see what it was. One step after the other, she found herself making her way to the corner wall and in no time at all she was leaning against it, encouraging herself to take a peep as the voice was louder now, but still, she couldn't understand a word which was being spoken. Obviously an exchange of some sort was going on between the two men.

It was some foreign language to her, one she has never heard of or even knew existed and she had studied languages for three years in a row at school and learning about new languages and cultures was a hobby of hers, so for her to not know which one it was, was strange for her.

A muffled cry rebounded in an echo loudly against the brick walls. Kitty pushed back a strand of hair that was reducing her hearing and listened. It sounded like someone was struggling against an attacker and that was all she needed to spur her on. She jumped around the corner with bravery that she intended on unleashing onto the assaulter, only to be almost knocked back by the raging wind. The wind that was building in power and destructiveness, newspapers and discarded rubbish were whipping around in a vortex, the sound so loud she was surprised no one had come to investigate.

Not believing what she was seeing Kitty gripped onto the brick wall as best she could, using her free hand to try and shield her eyes and keep her blowing hair out of her face as she squinted taking in the scene before her. Frowning a little, her mind went into overdrive as her eyes fell on the scrawny man who had been watching her from the corner earlier. He was on his knees, his blue jeans soaking up water off the hard ground. What made the situation so bizarre was that his fingers were clawing at his own throat, mouth opening and closing like he was gasping for air, his eyes wide and full of panic, darting in a frenzied hysteria towards the shadowed dumpsters and dark parked cars.

No matter how much she tried, she couldn't look away from him, he appeared to be choking, but nothing was physically touching him. His face seemed to be getting more gaunt, his brain beginning to feel the effect from the lack of oxygen. This can't be real, she told herself, as she kept looking with resounding trepidation at the dying man.

It was now that she noticed a second figure, his back was turned to her and she could hear him speaking in that language she didn't understand, his voice never wavering or missing a beat as the already dark sky seemed to grow even darker, which she concluded was impossible, wasn't it?

The wind picked up even more, but now, instead of blowing in every direction, it felt like it had started blowing around them in a wide circle, getting faster and harder as it grew in closer and closer with each passing second, developing into an almost small tornado, and the man on his knees was struggling even more as his face began to turn a shade of deep ash red.

Something wasn't right. Whatever was happening was not normal. The wind had come from nowhere and this mysterious man who stood before the scrawny one puzzled her. He was the same one who she had noticed darting out the door with the stretched jacket, but due to poor visibility she could not make anything else out about his features or identity. Fat lot of good that did.

............to be continued over at our joint account @BlondesRTakingOver ....just hit the dedication image ;)

Thanks so much for reading!