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[jc6036]

((errr, tag usage, people?))

[Phantom of The Library]

Trapped in the dark space Phantom's eyes slowly adjusted and eventually he could see...

Nothing.

It was pitch dark, no light at all came in from the outside.

He began to pace, "Well this is a bit of a sticky situation" He said and mere seconds later his foot landed in something.

"That did not just happen."  He said with a face-palm.

((Trapped behind the bookshelf in his room))

[jc6036]

((Repairing Phantom's Door))

Jim stood from placing the last screw and admired his handiwork, dusting off his hands on his pants. Suddenly a voice is heard from behind a wall.

"Hrm. I wonder what in the hell that could be?"

[Phantom of The Library]

((Trapped behind bookshelf, trying to figure out what the sticky stuff is))

"Ugh, I'm not sure if I want to see what I stepped in or not" he said as he futilely leaned down to get a closer look.  There was still no light, so he had no success there.  He did hear a squeeking noise to his left though.

[jc6036]

((Phantom's room))

Slowly Jim walked along the wall, his ear pressed to it, listening intently for more noise.

[TherosPherae]

((Johnny talking with his mom))
"See, he tried resuscitatin' 'im before... uhh... outright ignoring us, I guess."

"WELL HE STILL DESERVES A-"

"I DON' GIVE A SHIT WHAT HE DESERVES, MA, LET IT GO."

"BUT-"

"LET IT GO."

"...Oh fine, Johnnyboy. But you git tha' man for me. Somethin's not righ' 'bout him."

"Whatever, ma."

"Now give your mother a kiss goodbye."

"But Maaaaaa...."

"JOHNNNNYYYYY...."

"Oh fine."

After receiving a kiss goodbye from her son, the large Scottish woman hopped on her motorcycle and rode off into the Russian sunset.

((As a reminder, the CIA midget is still waiting for a response from Masha as to finding the landlord.))

[Spinal_Taper]

((In lobby))

"Actually, scratch that, I would like the room F-10 please." Spinal said to whomever was listening, hopefully Fniff.

[shadenight123]

((Outside of the apartment complex))

A moving van gets in the front street, and a trench-coat clad burly form moves outside, followed swiftly by others, who start taking stuff and bringing it inside, with an incessant cackling as they pass through the lobby, shade directs them where they should drop their stuff, waving at them as they move with a speed that actually seems unhuman.
Afterwards, they leave as swiftly as they have arrived, but now beyond the normal door of apartment H-311, there is also a blue-ish door made of a strange material.
"I'll be in my lair...ehm, house. Yes. catch you all later!"

[Flying Dice]

((Kitchen))

Dice's ear twitched as he continued to read, tea in his free hand. This was a busy place, it seemed.

[Graknorke]

((Approximately a 3 hour walk away from Moscow city))

The youngish man set about methodically searching for useful stones to use. He was getting somewhat frustrated with the lack of stones suitable for knapping, most regions had something that could be fashioned into something that could be called an edge. Sighing, he decided he'd have to use something like snares, at least he carried materials for those around. He fashioned the few sticks he'd collected into something resembling a point and slipped them through his belt, just in case. Carefully assembling several sticks and thread to make snares, he placed them around holes that could be burows, and pulled out the two mess tins that he knew from experience made the loudest noise.

While he prepared his positions for scaring the prey into his traps, the man thought about what it would be like taking up long-term residence somewhere again. There was money, but he was pretty sure he had enough of that. Then there was paperwork. That could be problematic. He remembered very little about what these would need. Forms need things like addresses, perhaps not for lodgings? Contact details, he had an email account, not that he frequently had opportunity to use it. Any proof of citizenship would be difficult to come up with, though he did have a section in his satchel dedicated to miscellaneous documents, so that should hopefully be fine.
And then there was a name. He hadn't needed a name in a while, and he didn't like using the same name every time. The one on his passport was out, his documents too. Not like such a cheap place probably checks. Still though, having a name is important. Nothing is less trustworthy than someone who refuses to give a name.
Thinking about it for a minute, he decided on Tyson perhaps. It's a reasonable name, and at the same time not so generic as to sound fake. Tyson what though? Surnames were traditionally based on profession right? Well, is surviving really a profession? Thinking about his previous problems, the man smiled to himself. That would do nicely.
The newly self-named Tyson Flint checked over his traps one last time.

[ExKirby]

((To the Kyrby Cave))

"Whelp, I had better get myself set up..."

Alex scaled the stairs and found his rather barren room. Time to make it his. A white laptop emerged first, and was deftly plugged in to the mains. A pair of flat amps were then produced, hooked up to the promptly appearng headset. A picture of about thirty people in assorted clothing came up next, and was placed neatly on a bedside clothing. Alex then dealt with his clothing-assorted shirts, trousers, jackets and, most importantly, hats went in in some order. Alex smiled and replaced his dark grew trilby with a pinstripe fedora.

He then turned to the guitar case. Carefully laying it on the single bed, he pulled out twenty-four frets of mahogany, with a jagged red base attatched on the end. A winged skull with the letters "Ex" below was emblazoned in black on the body, with the same lettering appearing on the head. Alex twisted the dials for a bit, then put a cable into it, linking to the laptop. After pressing a few buttons, he produced a pick and started playing.

"Otherworldly creatures that only exist in mind,
Tormented by exclaimation, shadows of the times,
Depth of passage, rights of ages, casualties of war,
Never to be known again what lurks behind this door..."

The words to a creepy sounding song were almost effortless off the lips of Alex. The guitarwork was easy enough-finger there, finger there, finger there, strum, repeat. Guitar was hard to many, but Kyrby knew his limits. He continued playing.

((Gets room sorted, plays guitar))

[Phantom of The Library]

((Behind the bookshelf))

Phantom attempts to head towards whatever it that's making the noise, only to fall over as his foot is stuck in whatever it was that he had stepped in.  His head make contact with the wall with a loud bang as he falls over and the bookcase swings around again.  Unfortunately, he was nowhere near it and Jim, being right up against it, was now trapped in there with him. 

Right before it closed though, he sees a small furry face wearing black circular glasses. 

Hearing explicatives from behind he decides he had better do something, so he said: "Sorry?"

((Behind bookshelf, has dragged Jim inside on accident))

[Spinal_Taper]

((Do I have the room already? Or do I wait for Fniff?))

[jc6036]

((I'll roleplay Jim down there once I get done with Phantom. Fniff seems to have fallen off the face of Earth once again.))

[Furtuka]

((Standing at the lobby desk))

Seeing that Fniff was just sitting there like a dead fish despite the long line that was building up, Furtuka went behind the counter and started rummaging through the cabinets.

"Good thing they didn't change the locks since I left. Now where were those keys..."