In which we tell the tale of Derrick Anastas and people of questionable morality.

A Summary Thus Far: We have met our protagonist, who would really rather be elsewhere.

Things aren't right.


There is a superstition about the thirteenth floor. That it's bad luck, that only terrible things can happen there.

It is, of course, total nonsense. The number on a floor in no way affects its luck or spiritual tendencies.

The fact that the thirteenth floor of the apartments on J. Drive had suffered more suicides, murders, and general horrors to give occult conspiracy theorists wet dreams for weeks was just a silly coincidence.

Really. Trust us.

Meet our protagonist, Derrick Anastas, fighting with his door while he juggles groceries in one hand and slippery, slidey keys in the other. Short, curly haired, bent nosed and as timid as a mouse, he doesn't really cut an intimidating figure.

Derrick died two years ago.

We can assume this hasn't really kept him down.

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