Through the side path Kenji and Highball crept, moving hastily but not impetuously.  With anticipatory blood rushing through their veins they approached the source of the womanly shriek, but that noise's source failed to singly dominate Highball's attention.  Through gaps in woodwork, cracked shutters, and warped doorframes she could peer into the innards of the buildings she passed, and no small amount of cold prickles ran down her neck and back to see [i]movement[/i] within their shabby confines.  Her initial sighting led her to believe it to be merely a trick of her paranoia, a demon entirely her own, but repeated scurries, flutters, and waggles glimpsed discreetly disillusioned her of that notion.  Iredele was not as abandoned and devoid as she guessed: a ghost town only in the sense that sepulchral phantoms could very well lurk behind each window and board.  Even more disturbing to Highball were the rank smells of gore, which offended her stomach as much as her nostrils and mind.  Nevertheless, she proceeded, and she emerged along with Kenji to witness with wide eyes the five shadowy beings and the brazen lunatic who assailed them.

She chuckled darkly to see Donny use his rope to hang one of the robed specters; perhaps he'd been inspired by the dangling individual from early to contribute some decadent art of his own to the town.  Her suspension of disbelief nearly shattered, however, when he whipped out his guitar and began to play.  The 'music' the wannabe hero selected for the occasion must have been meant for more than a single player—or else, it simply sounded grossly incomplete.  Donny's goofballish declaration caused Highball to double over, heaving, for want of breath, with silent laughter.  

Kenji's commentary shut her up, though.  [i]Scratch what I said earlier about him seeming clever.  Does this guy seriously think that people who look evil in a dream are actually law-abiding townsfolk?  What does law even matter in a place like this?  Then again, I'm treating this guy like he's a real person.[/i]   She exhaled heavily before shrugging. “Ugh.”  Clearly, she did not relish spending any time 'questioning'.  When in any fiction remotely like this did anyone give straight answers, if at all?

Then Lillian showed up, and blew Highball out of the water.  A stony, disdainful look overtook her as Lillian sang out her battle cry, brandishing a blade with such incredible ineptitude that even Highball, who knew very little of swordfighting, cringed.  Bemused but nevertheless tickled by the sight of her and Donny posing together, Highball took a few steps over and scrambled onto the sturdy sloped top of a well to sit and watch.  [i]I'm calling it now.  I thought this dream would be a grim, survival horror when I first woke up, but these two seem straight out of a Saturday morning cartoon.[/i]  She cupped her head in the palm of a hand and lay her hazel eyes on Maria, who just appeared on the scene.  Like any good mooks, the 'God Hands' waited patiently for Maria to describe them, insult them, and then give moral support to the village idiots, all without performing the slightest bit of attacking.  [i]Looks like they won't need my help, if these things are pathetic enough for a chap with rope and a schoolgirl with a sword to handle.  Might as well see what dollface brings to the table, aside from roses.[/i]

Like fog, waves of disdainful condescension rolled from the well, though visible only in Highball's bearing and expression and audible only in the rhythmic tapping of cane on wood.  [i]If this world is anything to be really feared, something that brings these cloud-cuckoos back down to earth would be just the ticket.[/i]  Still interested despite her derision to see the fight play out, Highball did not notice the unstable creaking of the well-posts that supported the cover on which she sat.