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Tenma's frantic running finally slowed to a hault as she leaned against a building for much needed support. Her breathing was shallow and strained. "W...what was that?" she muttered, unable to think inside her own head. She fell to her knees, incapable of stopping the shivers that wracked her body. The Jester's words echoed deep inside her brain, continuing to tempt her towards the act.

Once again the resonating laughter of drunkards filled her ears. She lifted herself from the cold ground and began back down the alleyway. Any night she would have taken the main streets, she didn't fear the drunks; but tonight her energy was depleted. She would be incapable of fending them off for the time being.

Her legs bled from tripping on the way home. As she walked up the path she saw the lights glow promising out the windows. "No...he's still awake." she said as her body began to tremble once again. She was incapable of stopping. Her feet wouldn't turn back, she couldn't stop herself from trying to seek the comfort of her room. She gripped the strap of her shoulder bag, praying that he was passed out in his chair.

As Tenma entered the house a wave of warmth washed over her. A sweet smell hung in the air. 'Drugs...crap' she thought, knowing that if her uncle did find her she wouldn't be waking up for quite a while, if at all. She peered into his seating room, he was collapsed on the floor. She turned and ran up the stair to the safe haven of her room. As she twisted the brass knob she heard the moaning. He began to stir down stairs. She hurried herself into her room, locking the door behind her. She breathed deeply and sat down at her desk, beginning her trek through her homework.

Tenma's pen looped up and down, from left to write, as she wrote. The Jester's message played continuously through her head. She laid the pen beside the novel length paper and leaned her head back. Her eyes shut with exhaustion and terror. Though that quick moment of dark ended quicker than it came.

She jumped as the pounding on her door reached her ears. She lept from her seat, causing it to fall backwards. "Tenma! Come out here little girl!" the drunk man yelled from the other side. She ran to her dresser, pulling out her fathers old knife. She didn't want to use it; but if her uncle entered, then she would follow the Jester's orders. Though she prayed otherwise.

As the door began to crack and crumble under the drunken man's rage Tenma slunk to the floor, pressed against her wall. 'No...I can't do this. I wasn't bred to do this. There is no way that I could be. If I don't...he'll kill me; whether it be tonight or not he will kill me.' her thoughts ran rampid in her head. She clutched the knife to her chest as she fought the doubt pressing further into her concious mind.

The door broke off it's hinges, landing on the wooden floor with a loud crash. Tenma wanted to scream, even though it wouldn't have done any good. She slipped the dagger behind her back, making sure that her uncle didn't get a hold of it. The drunk stumbled over to Tenma, barely able to walk. Tenma gasped for air as she was lifted against the wall by her throat. The smell of drugs and alchohol were heavy on her uncls breath making her feel sick and dizzy. 'I have to. I have no choice. I am not willing to die for this.' her thoughts said as they won out. Tenma took out the dagger, plunging it deep in her uncle's abdomen. As the man released her she pulled the dagger towards his side, spilling his blood in every which way. Tenma stumbled to the side as her uncle fell forward. "I...I really am a killer..." Tenma said in disbelief. What was it the the Jester had in store for her now?

Tenma's breath had stopped in her chest. Her mind racing with thoughts, uncertain of what had just happened. "H...how is this possible?" she said with her first gasp of air. She was tempted to pick up the orb; yet a blanket of fear laid over her, keeping her from coming in contact with the orb. Tenma slipped off her jacket and threw it over the orb, she would deal with it later.

Tenma gathered her uncle's clothing, taking his wallet from the pocket and laying it on her dresser. It could come in handy now that she was on her own again. She tossed the clothes in with the wash pile, thinking of what needed to be done next. She re-entered the room, looking around. A glance in the mirror showed a massive bruise on her neck left by her uncle. She trembled as she lightly drew her fingers down along her neck. She pulled out some white halloween make-up that she used for instances like this. She would need it later.

Tenma walked into the bathroom, towel and a change of clothes in tow. She wouldn't feel right if she continued wearing her current clothes after that nights events. She turned the faucet on, listening to the hissing of the warm water. A familiar sound to tired ears. She stripped down as steam filled the room. Her pure white skin reflected off the vanity light making her look as if an aura was hanging on her. She entered the warm liquid, it felt almost like her uncles blood. She washed away all the worries, she just let her emotions take over while she could. Tears mixed indistinguishable amongst the water. This wasn't going to go away.

Tenma reached for her towel as the hissing of the water ceased. She wrapped it around herself as she stepped out of the shower. She tied it to the side and looked in the mirror. Her green eyes were laced with red, her neck was black and purple. Her eyes gazed around the sink, realizing that she had forgotten the make-up. She would wear it at home to convince herself nothing had happened. A futile attempt to shut out a deadly past; though she would have never thought that it was deadly for her uncle. Tenma slipped on her black night pants along with a black tank top. Her hair drenched her back as she wandered back to her room.

Upon reaching her room Tenma lifted the sleeves of her jacket, catching the strange orb in the hood. She placed on her bed. The red jacket stood out against the deep indigo sheets. Tenma twisted the jacket so it was away from the orb. She laid on her stomach with her chin resting in the air on her hands, her feet swung in the air. What does this mean, Jester?" she asked, though she wasn't expecting an answer. She peered around the room. It was almost as if nothing had happened.

Tenma
Time passed. The bell tolled one, and soon her eyes became heavy. The adrenaline had worn off, which had made her a little queazy and light headed. Soon she shut out the world, in favor of slumber. Vivid dreams assailed her sleep, however.

It was white. She thought she had to be standing somewhere, though she could not see herself. All she could see was white. Soon she felt. She did not know how she was feeling, she simply understood there were feelings being sent to her brain, and it told her that the white was fleshy. White, fleshy skin.

In the distance there was a dot, like a period on a page. Likely, under any other circumstances, she would have never noticed it. The white accented the period, however, and made it more prominent than she had imagined. In her mind, she tilted her head out of curiousity, desiring to lean forward. Then she realized the black dot was getting larger, and she desired desperately to move back, though nothing happened.

It was a large black circle. She assumed it was a sphere, but there seemed to be no true dimensions where she was. Aside from the size increase, the black dot didn't even look as if it had moved. But soon, it hovered over her. She assumed it was many times larger than she was, though that was also impossible to tell in that realm of white.

The dot bellowed words that she could not understand. Wind swept past her with its every breath along with a stench that would have made her vomit, if it were possible. But she didn't vomit, she simply stood there and took the abuse of words, unable to do anything else.

She woke up with a start, her eyes darting about the room. Then the dream slipped away, despite her desperate attempts to maintain the memory. Everything still felt so frantic and unclean, but it made her panic more that she could not remember any of it. Then she felt a sore on her side. There was a small, two inch circle on her abdomen, which was painful. She poked it, and it was hard, causing even more pain. The pain wasn't on the bruise, though, but around it.

There were whispers in her ear, of which she did not entirely understand, but it left an impression: go to San Marco's Basilica, and she would find her answers.

Claire
When she entered the police station, she told them about the Jester stealing her pendant, the letter from the mafia, the fact she had seen Mr. Rossini the night before, and that she believed the Jester, or the people who wrote her the letter were likely responsible for the death. To this, the police looked at each other quizzically, though Claire was unsure if they were confused with her Italian, or with the information that she had just fed them. They spoke to her in English to clear up a few strange sentences of mildly comically miscommunication, though to Claire it was still terrifying, then told her to have a seat.

It was strange to see their police force. They all wore militant looking clothing, and many of them were armed with automatic weapons. They seemed as trained as the military in Canada or the states, something that felt a little strange. The fact they had these weapons, she thought, should make it all the safer.

Finally an officer approached her, "Miss Norman? We shall send some officers to the position at the appointed time. Other than that, these are some fascinating claims. We shall look for this jester you claim exists, but I'm not sure we can be of any help. I hope that your stay in Italy is more friendly that it first began." He nodded to her as she left, feeling little more safe than when she first went in.

Later that evening, as she sat in her room, worried about the events of the past couple days, there was a knock on the door. The police brought her back to the station for further questioning, asking for more detailed information as to what had transpired in the past. When she asked what happened, they refused to answer, but all looked sternly at her.

All players
The TVs in Venice all seemed to change to the same program as an emergency broadcast. There was footage of several men in an ally getting into a shootout with police officers. Italian played across the screen, and the reporter spoke rabidly in Italian. It quickly became apparent that there were many killed on both sides. The opposing force to the police ended up jumping onto a boat that came through the canal, and sped off, though law enforcement quickly pursued.

Finally there were reports in English coming through, of a shoot out as cops followed a lead to a mysterious meeting on Marzaria de l'Oroglio, just off of San Marco Plaza. The lead to this meeting was found through a connection to the Rossini murder the previous night. The reporter asked for any other leads into the men and what their intent was.

Tenma remained on her knees, peering around the room through cracked eyes. So much disapproval from so many people. She continued her act as she slipped the box into her messenger bag without the notice of any glaring eyes. She remained like this until the cut on her leg began to throb on the hard floor.

Tenma stood, giving a final bow, even though that may not have been normal there. She exited the area, looking for a place to be alone. As she strolled around aimlessly she noticed an area free of any people. It wasn't off limits, and it wasn't guarded, it was perfect. She slipped into the area, lucky not to have been seen.

Kneeling on the ground Tenma laced her fingers around the box. Her leg was throbbing in pain, but she wasn't going to let it stop her. She tilted, spun, and looked the box over, searching for the key to open it. She placed it back on the ground and took out some water, thirsty work indeed. The box, the orb, the Jester. They were all connected somehow. Plus the killing of Mr. Rossini, the shooters on the run. It all had to be connected.

A slight breeze pulled her hair into her eyes as she studied the box. There was no way in, yet there was. She knew it. It wasn't based on her gut or a feeling, even though such a holy place might spur on those kinds of feelings. A silent sigh escaped her. She had been doing that a lot. It was a habit when she thought. 'What does this mean...?' she thought, though it was the only question to answer at the given moment.

Her thoughts whirled in her head. She knew there was a way to open the box, but how was the question. She knew it would be revealed to her eventually if her impatience didn't get the best of her. 'So...will it be the Jester again or someone else this time?' she pondered as she placed the box back into her messenger bag.

Tenma
There was a strange noise in the main room of the basilica. She heard screaming in Italian and English, but with where she was she couldn't hear what they were saying clearly. Soon a man opened the door to the room she was in. She heard gun shots from the main room, and the man yelled at her, "What are you doing in here?!"

Too stunned to respond, the man pushed her out of the way. Her eyes went wide with horror as she felt something pierce through her side, where the mark was. The man in front of her froze, and she noticed a black line from her abdomen, thrust through the man's back. She knew there was some organ it was hitting that was vital, but she wasn't exactly sure which.

Blood dripped down the black spike painfully coming out of her side. The tendril retracted from the man and reached into her messenger bag, pulling out the box. The blood of both Tenma and the random man mixed, covering the box and making groves obvious that she had not noticed before. Then the blood started to sizzle. It wasn't that she hadn't noticed the groves, but that the groves reacted to the blood. The box finally fell apart, and the tendril retracted back into her.

As it retracted, she heaved for air, suddenly aware that she wasn't taking full breaths. She collapsed next to the other man who had gone pale with death. Tenma cried at the pain and realization it wasn't just a mark on her side. There were more gunshots.

"Clear the area and find that box. It should be around here somewhere." She heard the man yelling, and many others hustled about. Automatic fire continuously raged in the entrance. She grabbed the contents of the box, a piece of ragged paper, and ran quickly, the afternoon sun setting in the distance.

When she exited through a side exit, she was able to make her way to the plaza. Police apprehended her, and medics attended her, assuming she was injured. When they found only the bruises, they allowed the police to question her, asking her what happened. The part that bothered her, however, was the fact that the bruise on her side, where the tendril had pierced her, seemed a little larger than before.

William took a breath of relief and said "Young one, huh. Well I am in pretty good shape but it has been a long time since anyone has confused me for a young man. I do thank you for the compliant though." He began to slowly walked toward the desk to give himself time to gather his thoughts.

Taking another deep breath as he reached the desk he continued "I am sorry for my lack of respect I am William Herb and your garden variety tourist. I don't mean to be frank but the last fifteen minutes have been nothing short of plain ol' freaky. Jesters appearing out of nowhere giving me cryptic message and disappearing just as quickly as he appeared. Now i have seen my share of interesting situations but this one is quickly making its way to the top of the list. Sorry for my continued rambling but could you please what in the name of all things holy is going on."

Claire E. Norman

“What happened last night exactly?” Claire looked up at the police a bit confused. She had told them during her first visit, but now she supposed they were looking for more details. She wished in return she could question them what exactly happened but knew her luck would not be so.

“I was on my way to Murano seeking out the shop my father had visited about twenty years ago. You see, I’ve always worn this pendant,” she looked down at the one around her neck, “well not this one exactly. This is a replacement to the one that got stolen. Anyways, I was on my way alone on a boat…I thought it odd to be alone, but regardless it would take me to Murano. Then seemingly out of nowhere this jester appears. I got bad vibes from him. He gave me this card,” she pulls out the card the jester had given her and hands it to the police, “and told me about ‘The Fool’s Glass.’ How he knew my destination, I cannot say. Next thing I know, my necklace is gone and the jester disappears as we reached land.”

She looked up at the police questioning her, hoping they believed her. “I found Mr. Rossini’s shop just fine. I didn’t know he was prepping to close shop when I entered. Regardless he was nice enough and when I explained my plight of losing my beloved necklace, he sold me a replacement,” Claire decided to skip the details of Mr. Rossini’s hidden cavern full of his more valuable works. She liked the old glassmaker and only found it appropriate to respect a dead man by caring out his wishes.

“We said our goodbyes and I headed back to Venice to my hotel. On my way the jester man found me again…somehow. He must have stalked me. He talked about checking the paper in the morning for something had happened. He didn't say what though. I didn’t want to believe him. After all here was the thief waving my original necklace around before disappearing, once again. The nerve.”

“In the morning I read—to the best of my ability in Italian—that Mr. Rossini had be murdered.” Claire looked very grim at the thought. There had been too much death surrounding her life lately that she didn’t want more. “And that’s when the note I handed you earlier slipped out of the paper. Afterwards I came straight here.”

She looked up at the police again. “Does that help?”