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[@FernStone][@Punished GN][@Atrophy]
[code]Nowhere[/code]
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For the drive, he had few words to say apart from the odd "uh-huh" here and "heh, yeah" there. More than anything, 'Carl' seemed to be in his own thoughts and he was. Dealing with Black, finding the money, getting out and gone so he could go back to figuring what he might do to salvage or recalibrate his career. Warily, he briefly glanced towards Ophrenia and Zeltz9n - the two that were openly packing heat, of which he was dubious they even knew how to use.

The van pulled up  and steadily people filed out. Clay had come dressed for the job. A rain poncho, gloves, boots with good ankle support  and the tool bag slung over his shoulder. There was a dry change of clothes in the trunk of his car for when he got back to the motel, and hopefully a [i]warm[/i] coffee somewhere a ways down the road when all this was done.The rain... he'd thought [i]Memphis[/i] got it heavy, but thsi place made hometown seem like a shower by comparison. Visibility was down to shit, but that played both ways for anyone else around. He just hoped he wasn't wasting his time here, and made a rough mental note of the route for when he found himself walking back. At least he could trade the pungent stench of weed for rain and swamp water.

And of course  the gate was locked. He [i]had[/i] brought the toolbag with him, but he wasn't too wild on outing that someone had forced entry to the property in the event that someone came down here. Instead, he kept his mouth shut as Jen and the other girl, Ophrenia - one slinging the twelve gauge - argued about whether or not the latter would try and [i]shoot[/i] off the padlock. He wasn't exceptionally willing to count on that either - if the lock wasn't bottom-of-the-barrel quality, it would.more likely chip it than shatter it. He'd seen that once or twice, dumbass perps who'd tried and failed to blow off a lock with a .22 or birdshot and only signalled to that side of town they were trying to rip some olace off.

[i]You bust the lock, that's B and E...[/i] the British, no - [i]Scottish[/i] girl had it right. Shotgun girl too - it would've been better if they parked it down the road, out of the way, but he suspected Jennifer wasn't going to bother now - and to be honest, the van wasn't in his name either, so it slipped past a point of him caring. Instead, he pulled out a maglite from his toolbag and quickly pointed it at the ground in front of him to make sure he wasn't stepping into any sinkholes, then did the same for the fence.

Lily and Jennifer climbed over first, the former whining about ruining her pants, which prompted Clay to briefly double check there wasn't anything he was going to snag himself on, before carefully maneuvering himself up and over the gate, before dropping to the other side with a faint, sucking splash. [b]"Here-"[/b] he said to Charlie, pointing for the same foot and gandholds so the girl would know where to go. Zeltzin seemed like she'd pulled a muscle or twisted something coming over, and he figured it wouldn't be good if another one of the girls ended up the same way - things were slow enough as is.

[color=Mediumorchid]"... What. [i]In. The.[b] FUCK?[/b][/i]"[/color] Lily's exclamation caught his attention and his gaze shifted over to the... effigy. Clay blinked, realised it was still there, then squinted hard, his own torch beam further illuminating its features. For a moment, he thought it was some transient or junkie lost in the swamps, then he noted the antlers arcing out towards the treeline in either direction, the fact that whatever tissues - [i]fur[/i] and otherwise, looked like it had been moldering there for at least a week, roots and moss growing through its 'body' until it might as well have been a permanent fixture.

His sentiments were shared with Lily. [I]What the fuck?[/i] Even by his own standards, this counted among some of the strangest things he'd seen.

[color=Mediumorchid]"Yooooooo, what the fuck? I seen a lotta' shit, but I ain't [i]eva'[/i] seen some shit like that?"[/color] 

"Yeah, um.... let's... keep moving."

[b]"Fuckin' swamp people."[/b] Clay muttered. Somehow, he suspected this was either the work of some locals, on bath salts or otherwise, or some dumbass fratboys off on Spring Break. Who else propped up a warped take on hybrid taxidermy in the middle of this shithole? He glanced over his shoulder, bristled at the notion of being in the company of even more [i]strange[/i] characters, and paced over towards one of the others with a degree of impatience.

The other girl, one of the last to come over - Neko - was too busy fumbling for something in the ground. Her phone, he'd guessed. The longer they were here, the less he wanted to linger. Clay grunted, pointing his torch beam at the ground towards what he thought might've been a phone-shaped indentation, and gestured to Neko.