[CENTER][img]https://i0.wp.com/s3-us-west-1.amazonaws.com/dcn-wp/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/24042127/Alan-Scott-Gay-Featured-Image.jpg?resize=740%2C431&ssl=1[/img]
[color=green][h3]A L A N  S C O T T[/h3][/color]
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[COLOR=#dbf220][indent][sub][B]Location:[/B] [COLOR=SILVER][I]Central American Monorails[/I][/COLOR][/sub][sup][right][b]Post #1.02:[/b] [COLOR=SILVER][I]Proposals II[/I][/COLOR][/right][/sup][/indent][/color][sub][hr][/sub][INDENT][color=#dbf220][sub][B]Interaction(s):[/B] [COLOR=SILVER][I][/I][/COLOR][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][b]Previously:[/b] [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5156930]Proposals I [/url][COLOR=SILVER][I][/I][/COLOR][/right][/SUP][/color][/indent]
He was back on the train, as if the last five minutes hadn't happened. As if Rose wasn't gone, and as if he wasn't about to be turned into a charred piece of meat from the spreading fire. Yet, the train was different. It was moving, sure. But it was... Different. Diffused. Strange, almost as if it was lacking it's color and... Well, to be frank, it's life. The train felt grey. He peered out of the window, and he could tell that they were passing things, but he couldn't make out what they were passing. Like a hazy dream. He looked to the passengers, to Rose's seat, thinking he had been dreaming.

Empty.

He thought he could hear people talking, but once he shifted his focus towards it, all he found as silence and emptiness.

"Hello?" Alan's voice rang out, standing up. "Where is everyone?" His words fell on deaf ears. Changing his question, he found a more suitable one. "Where am [b]I[/b]?" He walked the train, from the train he was in, towards the front. Crossing over to the next cart, he was met with the same view. And empty, quiet cart. No melody playing, no chugging of the rails. It was all quiet, numb, even. He turned his head to look into the baggage area in this cart, it was where he and Rose had put their stuff. The bags were gone, but in the peripheral view of his eye, he could see a man. One dressed in blue and gold. But as his eyes chased him, trying to see him, he was gone. As if he had never been there to begin with. 
"What the hell?!" He spat, moving faster towards the next cart. Chasing the man he thought he saw. He opened the next door, and in it, he found yet another empty cart... Or so he thought. 

Inside was a woman. Sitting comfortably in a luxurious chair, far too fancy to belong on a train. Hers was the only seat in that isle, separated by a small table from the rest of the seats. Her legs were crossed, she was dressed in all black and her face was covered by her black hair. A cigarette decorated her lips as she huffed deep breaths of smoke.

"So, you're here." She spoke, calm yet demanding. The voice echoed in Alan's head. He held his temple for a second, feeling the vertigo from the impact of her voice. Things stopped spinning, and the woman got up from her seat, and stared at him.
"Do you know where you are?" She asked, exhaling more smoke. Alan nodded.

"Train 4013, headed to Gotham. I'm here with my fian-" He was cut off by the memory of seeing Rose fall into the firey cavern created by the train wreckage. "Wrong," The woman responded. "that's where you were."

"You know how unlikely it is to survive a train crash, even more so an explosion on a train?" The woman asked and Alan blinked, recalling a math equation he had solved back in school 11 years ago. "A derailing's got good survival rates. But something like this is more like a plane crash. One in a hundred, maybe." He calculated quickly in his head, surprised he had that information available to him already. The woman smirked under her hood. "This was more like a nuclear bomb." Alan felt his face get cold at the notion. "What do you mean?" He prodded, she took another big huff of the cigarette that seemed to be never-ending.

"You're dead. Or, at least very close to. This is what's called Limbo. The realm between life and death." Her voice was somber, serious. Cold. She offered no comfort in those words, and no glimmer of hope was betrayed.

"I don't believe in an afterlife." Alan would protest, the woman chuckled. 
[b]"Yet it would seem the afterlife believes in you, Alan Scott."[/b]

"That's a horrifying thought." Alan folded, shifting nervously at the way the woman's voice had echoed in his entire being.
As their conversation carried forward, Alan heard another whisper, something more akin to a caress in his head, it wasn't words. It was intention. "So who's the man?"

"The man in the blue and gold?" he continued. The woman bit onto the butt of the cigarette, clearly not amused by the question. "You saw a man in blue and gold?" she seemed almost bothered by the prospect, and Alan nodded. "Yeah. He was right here, I thought. I followed him to this cart." Alan felt a sudden urge growing inside of him, almost pulling him forward. The woman stood wide in front of him, blocking his way.

"The man in blue and gold is just a reflection of your dying mind. Ignore it. I'm here to guide you to the other side, Alan." She promised, her voice suddenly softer, and Alan shrugged. "What, so this train is a manifestation of my imagination?" And the woman nodded. "People don't usually take to abstract metaphysical concept quite so easily. Yes. This is how you perceive the afterlife. In the ancient days, I was a skeleton rowing a boat down a river. Now, I'm a young woman in a train." 

"You're death?" Alan asked, and the woman shook her head. "No. You're not quite that important. I'm middle management, for now. I'm a reaper."

"You forgot the scythe at home." Alan joked, his urge getting stronger and he felt something calling for him. The woman let out a scoff at his humor. "Deflecting with jokes doesn't work anymore, Alan. There's nowhere left to run. This train will stop."

"But there's something else for me here." The would-be dead man claimed. And the reaper protested, getting pushed aside by Alan who walked to the next cart, seeing a faint glow behind it. As he opened the door, he saw the man in blue and gold again, he couldn't make out the face, but he had his hand reached out for him.

The gold-clad hand reached out for him and Alan heard a man's voice echo the words "Help me" to him. Alan pushed forward, ending up at the back of the train again, which was the complete opposite direction of where he was going. The reaper appeared behind him.
"The train's getting shorter, Alan. Your brain is dying, and soon, there won't be anything left of you."
"What happens then?" He asked, the reaper pouted her lips and told it to him straight. "You become a spirit. Demented, scared and without direction. With time, you will turn to anger and become a vengeful ghost. Cursed to forever walk the world with no chance at redemption."

Alan nodded. "If you had told me ghosts and afterlife were real yesterday, I'd ask you what you were drinking. But for some reason... I believe you." He turned around, his words hanging in the air, almost in anticipation for what he was gonna say next. "I can't go. There's something here." He said, walking towards the storage shelves. Finding the only object in the train that didn't look like it was fading. It was a chest, a lockbox, rather. Ornate. As he touched it, it opened without him finding a locking mechanism. The reaper got agitated, sprouting two massive black wings from her back, her hood flying off, revealing her dirty blonde hair and pale face.

[b]"Don't touch that!"[/b] She shouted, loud enough to shake the entire train, her voice echoing like a banshees. Alan opened the chest, a green glow washing over him, the reaper appearing behind him, and as she touched him to stop him, he touched the green glowing mass. A green light erupted from him, burning away the reaper. The train filling with color again, focusing around him. He felt alive again.

Suddenly, he was holding a massive green lantern in his right hand and his engagement ring in his left. The lantern melted into the ring as Limbo faded away, fought off by the light as Alan was brought back to life. 
A voice echoing in his head, in a language he couldn't comprehend, yet, he understood what it was saying to him. It was a contract. A proposal.
The green ring appeared on his middle finger when he spoke the most terrifying three letter word in the English language.

[color=green]"Yes."[/color]