His eyes opened. There had been a metro-car, he was sure. But... maybe not. All he knew was now... there was a deserted city. Crumbling buildings, deserted cars, and deathly quiet. Iago reached into his coat, and pulled out the gun that he always kept in a shoulder-holster, hidden. It was a throwback to his days back in LA as a beat cop - he never felt quite comfortable without a gun somewhere on his person.

The wind blew coldly on his back, and a distant, inhuman howling began. Iago shivered, grasping his gun tightly, and began to move through the empty streets. The tie felt uncomfortably like a noose, and he hurriedly took it off, tossing it to the side as he continued walking. Reaching into all his pockets, Iago took stock of his equipment.
Cellphone, check. Wallet, check. Gun, check. Two extra clips of ammo, check. Powerbar, check. With the gun still tightly grasped in his right hand, Iago checked his iPhone with his left. No service. Well, I guess that was to be expected. But where the hell am I?

His dress-shoes were, luckily, comfortable, for Iago expected to be on his feet all day, looking for survivors of whatever had decimated this city. Birds circled overhead, ominously.

Whatever had happened, it seemed to have left the city a deserted wreck. But at least it was empty, Iago thought.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

Of course, the Dreamer did not know he was dreaming.

He hit the ground running, his dirty, well-worn sneakers propelling him across and urban wasteland. He ran, and then he ran some more. Until his sides hurt, until ever breath felt like a blade in his throat. His pace was quick, and even with the exertion, he didn’t slow down.

He knew-- he somehow knew-- that if he slowed down, he would die.

Something lunged for him through the darkness, a grey arm covered in rotten flesh. Broken, chipped nails reached for his shirt, and only a quick turn right got him away. His own hand struck a long forgotten garbage can, and the resulting cacophony of metal ricocheting and rolling across the ground reverberated through the block.

And so he ran. He broke from the alleyway, into a main street. There he stopped. Breathing hard, he looked left, and then right. He sucked in a deep breath and let his hands fall to his knees. His sides hurt. They felt like hot irons slammed into his skin. Even breathing hurt.

But in this world, perhaps that was the good news. Breathing was a good thing.

When he righted himself, he let his hands fall onto his waist, his fingers digging into the burning flesh there. “Help,” he breathed, not exactly loud enough to be of any use. But with his throat burning, making any noise at all was an accomplishment.

There were times where Eva was decidedly glad she was not what she seemed. If Eva had been anything like she seemed, she would have been somewhere beyond terrified - she was scared, yes, but it wasn't as overwhelming as it could have been - and decidedly unaware that she was in a dream.

As it was, when she had woken up in a decayed city from when she knew she had just been on a subway train, one of the first things she had done was check her totem. A trick drilled into her by those in her family - both true family and extended family.

Her ring told her what she was hoping. It was a lie. A dream, a creation of... someone's. Not hers. She didn't know where this came from but if Vlad found out who that person was, they would probably be in pretty big trouble.

She had seen some of the zombies. They hadn't seen her - not yet at least, thank goodness, but she had seen them and they had been snacking on something and she didn't even want to think about what that crunching was, it was too unpleasant, too grim.

Eva edged away from them, moving quietly but quickly, around the corner before the group had noticed her. Only to nearly run into a man panting. Putting her finger to her lips, she reached in her bag, pulling out water. It was the nice thing about being in a dream, knowing you're in a dream. She needed it, so it was there and she had always been particularly good with this. Handing him the bottle, she grabbed his arm, dragging him down a different street. "Come on, quickly."