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[center][color=ed1c24][H1] The Weeping.[/H1][/color]
Location: The Melting Pot, Fat Tony's interrogation room. 
Date and Time: Monday, September 1st, 2060
Skills used: Host of Many[/center]

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Negative energy.

It was a thing that ran rampant amongst the dark places of the world. Paragon City despite its lights and heroes was no stranger to such a thing. The spirits that festered in the Weeping craved it, longed for it, were forever pleading to be bathed in its dark energies. Fat Tony's place was no exception to the rule. All the new death in the last few weeks had done wonders for saturating it even further.

As the dark butcher continued his grisly work. Slicing flesh from bone and shoving whole chunks of warm meat into his gaping maw like a hungry animal.  The damned spirits danced about the room, some even crossing through the physical walls in their greedy dance. It was one such invisible specter that noticed Julia and immediately floated up behind her and wrapped her in its cold icy embrace before vanishing, being pulled back down to its host.

The Weeping froze in place as the multitude of voices in his head began to scream.

[color=ed1c24][i]“WATCHER!!! SPY!!! PERVERT!!! FLITHY SNOOPER!!! SHE STARES!!! PLUCK OUT HER EYES!!! PEEPING TOM!!!”[/i][/color]

The Weeping's eyes began to look upward when he stopped noticing he was no longer alone. A frown crossed his blood-stained lips. It seems that the little mouse would have to wait. In front of him sat a black-haired woman. He noticed how all of his spirits that had been freely roaming had all retreated back into himself.

As she introduced herself, he felt himself become mentally jarred. As he slipped back into the reins of control.

[color=ed1c24][i]“Ni....Nigel?”[/i][/color]

That...That was his name, wasn't it? It felt like an awful migraine was tearing his head apart as scattered memories plagued him and he wounded up shaking his head. He noticed the disappointment in Amara's eyes as he realized she had asked him a question.

The Weeping had already been in a kneeling position while feeding and leaned forward resting his temple on his right wrist as he sighed in exhaustion.

[color=ed1c24][i]“LIAR!!!! CHARLATAN!!! CON ARTIST!!! FIBBER!!! SHE DEVIL!!!”[/i][/color]

He frowned inwardly. The voices seemed...scared? His orange eyes locked upon Amara's face noticing the runic symbols that descended down her cheeks. They were oddly similar yet different to the symbols that danced around his body.

He tossed caution to the side as the spirits within as well as he burned for a chance at a revenge.

[color=ed1c24][b]“Speak Woman. What must I do?”[/b][/color]

His clawed hand outstretched towards the card that was just out of his reach.