Halloween in Columbia

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Elizabeth and Songbird

A metallic shriek echoed through Elizabeth's room. Songbird was here, but for what reason? She hadn't asked him to get anything for her. Maybe he just wanted to check in and see that she was doing well. She appreciated the thought, even if he was sometimes a little too invasive for her tastes.

Elizabeth opened her door and cautiously peered out. "Songbird, are you there?"

The same metallic shriek answered her call. She could see that he had managed to squeeze his face and most of his forearm through the door. In the palm of his hand was a small bag, which he extended out to her.

"Songbird, what is this?" Elizabeth inquired as she approached his massive form.

Songbird merely dropped the bag on the floor, scattering it's contents. Candy, and lot's of it. More then she had ever seen before in her entire life.

Elizabeth looked up at Songbird as she surveyed the spilled candy. "Songbird, where did you get this?"

Songbird shrieked and made a shrugging motion.

"Songbird, did you take this from someone." Elizabeth asked in a demanding tone, holding up the bag.

Silence was her only reply.

Elizabeth raised her voice in tone reminiscent of an owner firmly disciplining a dog. "Songbird, did you take this from a child?"

Songbird blared mechanically in reply. Elizabeth didn't actually understand if he was saying anything, but she sensed a tone of shame in his metallic wailing.

"You did, didn't you?"

Songbird looked away and tried to push the candy towards her.

"Songbird, I can't accept this. I appreciate what you did for me, but you need to give this back."

Elizabeth gathered up the candy and tried to place the bag back in Songbirds hand. At first he resisted, but finally he accepted the bag. Songbird looked back at her with a hint of remorse and then forced himself into the air with a flap of his mighty leathery wings.

As she watched Songbird fly into the night she noticed a small chocolate on the ground. "Well." She said to herself as she picked up the chocolate. "I guess one wouldn't hurt."


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Jeremiah Fink

Jeremiah Fink surveyed the bustling crowd. A sucker is born every minute, and in Emporia the suckers spared no expense. Especially not on a night like this, to be seen in a cheap Halloween costume was to be seen as stingy or worse, lower-class. Considering that, did it really matter if he raised prices to capitalize on last-minute desperation? He was still providing them a service, after all.

Fink pointed to a child in the crowd and bellowed. "You, child! You look like you could use a costume! Ask your parents to stop by Fink's costume emporium for a wide variety of costumes! From fiendish Chinamen to howling werewolves, Fink's Costume Emporium has it all!

Fink could tell by the look in the child's eye that he had made a sale. Children were the easiest to convince, of course. A nice big sign and a few words was all it took, and of course mommy and daddy would foot the bill. How could they say no to  little Billy?

Fink grinned to himself as he saw a gaggle of teenagers approaching his store. "Happy Halloween."

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Daisy Fitzroy

The Graveyard Shift was in a fever pitch tonight. Loud music, foul drink, fouler language. Tonight wasn't just any night, tonight was Halloween. For the founders that meant dressing up in costumes and playing their foolish games. For Daisy and the Vox Populi it meant something else altogether. It meant cover, it meant a distraction. And Daisy aimed to make full use of this Halloween.

Daisy looked out into the crowd and surveyed her crew. Cassius, Cook, Creed, all of the big names were here. This was good, she was going to need everyone she could get for what she had in mind. Daisy leaped up onto the table like a fiend out of hell and screamed over the raucous sounds of the bar. Not a head in the crowd remained unturned as she paced from tabletop to tabletop.

"Alright boys and girls, got your tricks and treats? Time to go knock on a few doors!"

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Booker


The comforting burn of whiskey slid down Booker DeWitt's throat. His second for the night, and he needed it. He didn't normally drink like this, not anymore. But his shoulder ached from an old wound, a Lakota arrowhead had buried itself deep in his shoulder.

He heard a feminine voice over his shoulder. "Hey there stranger."

Turning his eyes he saw a woman sliding up next to his bar-stool. She was young, pretty. With dark brown hair and brilliant blue eyes that peered out of a black mask that resembled a cat.

"Hey there yourself." He replied, wiping away droplets of alcohol and peanut shells from the counter.

The woman looked him up and down disapprovingly. "I don't see you celebrating, you not a fan of Halloween?"

"I just don't feel much like celebrating." He replied, finishing the last of his whiskey.

"Oh, that's no fun." The woman said, slipping out of the chair and grabbing him by the arm. "Here, come dance with me."

The woman led him into the dancing mass at the center of the saloon and with a wry smirk she guided his hands into position. The two dancing figures weaved and twirled through the crowd, never failing to maintain their embrace. There was something about this woman, something special.

"What's your name, Miss?" He finally asked as the music began to die down.

"Abigail, call me Abigail." She replied, shifting herself closer to his body. "How about you, stranger? You got a name?"

"Zachary." He replied. "My name is Zachary Comstock."