He crawled from the twisted, burnin' wreckage, he crawled on his hands and knees for three full days. Draggin' along his big leather suitcase and his garment bag and his tenor saxophone and his twelve-pound bowling ball and his lucky, lucky autographed glow-in-the-dark...Wait a second...that;s not right....Oh...Wait...oops.

*ahem*

DarkTan finally made to the emergency exit in the back of the kitchen. After pushing aside a vat of Biosludge Liquor, he crawled out of the hatch and in to the walk-in refrigerator. After forcing his way out of there in to the kitchen he was rather surprised. The place looked typical, large scorch mark on the ceiling, food splattered. But the building was still standing. This was unheard of. The OCSB surviving a rampage completely intact? Preposterous. Impossible. Inconceivable.

“You keep using that word...I don't think you know what it means,” DarkTan said to the ceiling.

Quiet you.

The damphir shrugged and made his way through the dining area and out the front door. The glass of which was suspiciously intact. Another suspicious thing was the oddly oblong shaped shadow that was growing over the building. DarkTan looked up, squinting as she saw a large cargo plane depart from behind the rectangular object in the sky. He stood in the middle of the parking lot and watched as several massive parachutes deployed, slowing the object down. DarkTan even stood perfectly still as the retro rockets fired, setting the roof on fire and bringing shipping container (for that is what is was) to a dead halt not 3 inches from the room. The gravity reclained it as crashed through the roof of the OCSB's dining area. Flatting the windows, door, benches and tables. Only think left intact was the bar. And Irvine behind it, muttering about dust in the glasses.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” DarkTan muttered, running his hand through his hair.

“Terribly sorry about that sir,” came the voice of a man attached to a parachute and landing behind DarkTan. “Special delivery for DarkTan Canto from FGTL,” he said handing DarkTan a clipboard and pointing to various locations, “Sign here, here and here. Initial there, sign here. Initial there again. Thumb print here and here. Blood sample here,” he poked DarkTan with a needle,” Sign here, there, back on the front and next to the blood there. Lock of hair here. Divers license number here. Mother’s maiden name here and here. Next of kin here. Initial here.” DarkTan did so, nearly running out ink before he was through. “Very well then, here's the key,” He looked up, DarkTan followed his gaze and saw another plan approaching, dragging a rope with a hook. “And there's my ride, good day to you sir.” With that the Largoist delivery man popped a balloon out of his back and was snatched away by the speeding craft.

“Largoists,” DarkTan muttered, looking over his paper work to find a notice for a memorial. “No...can't be....” He stared at the name. Ash. She was dead. “I just talked to her last week....” He read the rest of the memo, dropping his receipt to the ground in the process. “She scaraficed her self to stop the demons? But what about Faith? I gave her the....” And then it hit him. He was trapped under the OCSB. His current-time version must have been swapped or sent elsewhere. There was no one to be there for Sabin to give the amulet to. There was no on to fight their way in to hell to faith. No one to give her the amulet.

“It's my fault...I wasn't there and she died because of it...”