> F L O O D < -- (A Mostly Text Adventure)

[kaninchen]

You stumble blindly down the dark corridor, metal feet thudding on ratty carpet and wood. The occasional flash of lightning sends temporary streaks of light out from under the doorways lining the hall, granting only the barest amount of an idea as to where to go. The dull roar of a storm is hardly noticeable compared to the pounding of blood in your ears.

^{Can you see them?}

It's hard to see, but it might not be worth it to go back and grab the flashlight. You stop at the end of the hall, where a single window with blinds rests easier than you are. At least the blinds stop whatever is out there from seeing you, and slivers of blue-gray light provide the slimmest amount of visual clarity. A stairwell is nearby, with rotted steps.

^{Can you see your sins, scrawled hastily upon your flesh?}

You slump against the wall, catching your breath. The smell of damp, rain, rot, and the tinge of something metallic fills your nose. Slowly, you slide down into a sitting position, wrapping an arm around your legs as you pull them in. Your legs clink softly as they touch, making you jump slightly, but you remember its you. Or, part of you.

^{You did not write them, but they are yours to bear.}

Deep breaths.

^{Don't run.}

Deep breaths.

^{Accept your fate.}

... Okay... what now?

[Eversor]

>You....Need some help, something bad happened, and is happening. You need to stay focused, don't let anything distract you, do not read between the lines. It is all Black and White. Time to get up, don't linger.

[Morphimus]

Somersault out the window with the grace of a professional lion tamer.

[kaninchen]

You stand, approach the window and lift the shades slightly. There's tall buildings on the other side of a small road, but you can't see down far enough to know where the road is. Or if there is a road.
^(A _Distant, ^Muffled _Scream)
Opening the window takes some effort and grunting, but eventually it budges and creaks upwards as you tug on it. Cool air washes over you. You lean over and peer down. The road is about two stories below, although there's water rushing everywhere. The few cars here and there are almost completely submersed, with only their tops showing. Junk and litter wash downstream. A broken fire escape provides a disappointing failure of a way down.
^(A _Corpse ^Floats _Lazily ^In _The ^Water, _But ^Is _Pulled ^Down _By ^The _Current)
You figure you can get the slip on that sniper by exiting here. Gritting your teeth, you mantle out the window and carefully set yourself down upon the fire escape. The ladder going up and down is completely broken, but if you try hard enough you might be able to scale it.
_(Wet ^Blood _Is ^Smeared _Across ^The _Fire ^Escape _Handrail)
It's very cold and incredibly damp. You can barely see anything but you doubt that sniper can find you down here. Thin raindrops batter you, making a faint drumming noise against your metal prosthetic limbs. Instinctively, you hunch over slightly and hug yourself, looking around for the next course of action. Outside, at least, there's enough ambient light that you're not totally lost, but the rain makes it hard to see more than a dozen or so feet in any direction.

^(Is _Anyone ^Still _Alive?)

What now?

[Eversor]

L...Listen hey this is good, it's good, there is an outside, we can GET outside, we just need to keep focusing, side thoughts are the enemy here!

>Try hard, scale down the ladder, avoid the more particularly slick area

s!

[knightlygale]

Roll an acrobatics check and scale down the ladder.

[kaninchen]

Thankfully, the fire escape ladder is "staggered" -- rather than going down every level all in one go, it goes to one side of a platform, then another, so if you slip you won't fall that far.

^{"Just climb down without me, you'll be safe."}

That doesn't mean that slipping is ideal. You sit down on the edge of the platform, grasp one of the ladder poles, and slide down. The rungs are completely gone. It's relatively smooth sailing.

^{"I'll follow you down in just a moment, I need to tend to this wound first."}

At the bottom, your non-metal arm feels warm. As you look, you see blood smeared all over it. Warm, fresh blood. The pole of the ladder is drenched in blood. And as your gaze turns upwards, you see at the very top of the fire escape, several stories up, what looks like a body. It is completely still.

^{"Yes, yes, I love you. I won't be gone long. I just need to staunch the bleeding."}

Rain continues to fall. Droplets, faintly opaque with cloudy red blood, run down the poles and supports of the fire escape, leaving behind sickly metallic-smelling streaks. Cool rain unceasingly patters against your face, and washes the warmth from your arm.

^{"Go on, go. I'll catch up. I love you. Mommy will always love you."}

You snap out of it. The next floor down, and the street below, are totally flooded, but this second-story window is open and the inside is (relatively) dry. There are also some cars, their roofs peeking out over the rushing water, forming a precarious set of stepping stones. A diverged path.

^{- The last words of Phyllis Jones, who now lies atop the 8th St. Apartments fire escape.}

You still aren't sure where to go, or what to do. What is safety, in a place like this?

^{Time of death: 46 minutes ago. Cause of death: rapid exsanguination caused by two bullet wounds (.338 Lapua Magnum) to femoral artery.}

Okay, okay. Deep breaths. The slightly pleasant sound of rain upon your metal prosthetics is soothing, in a way. You focus on that, rather than anything else. Deep breaths.

^{No living next of kin.}

Alright... now we choose.

[viridianarcanist]

Go into the building, it's probably safer than trying to traverse across car roofs in a flood. Probably.

[Eversor]

I promise, we will reflect more on this...anomaly later, For now... It is probably wiser to go back inside the building, You can't safely go down, be vigilant for gunfire.

[minitiate]

Safety is walls between you and the shooter. Safety is looking for anything you can use to protect yourself, and maybe a non-precarious exit. Let's try and get our bearings a bit.

[kaninchen]

You duck into the open window. Metallic feet upon mildew-y wood, with the soft drumming of dripping water upon the floor, breaks the hallowed silence of the indoors. The hall is lined with doors, upon which brass plates embossed with numbers are bolted. The stairwell is to your right, and you can hear the gentle lapping of water not too far down below the top of the stairs. Though this is the second floor -- which you can tell by the "FLOOR 2" sign above the stairwell, dimly lit by the ambient outside light -- it may as well be the ground floor.

_{"For you equipped me with strength for the battle; you made those who rise against me sink under me." - Psalm 18:39}

Solid ground. Your foot creaks on a piece of wood. Well, as solid as you can hope for.

_{"Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword." - Matthew 10:34}

Inside is safety. You're safe here. It's damned dark, but you suppose so long as you avoid open windows, you won't be spotted. You shake your arms and legs, sending a small spray of water onto the floor, then squeeze your hair out. You're damp, and you will be for a while, but you can at least stop from being completely soaked. You keep moving forward, squinting and hoping your eyes will adjust to the dark. Every door is closed, with sandbags in front and nailed boards sealing the rooms. That's when your foot bumps up against something. A dull clunk.

_{"Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe." - Exodus 21:24-25}

Slowly, you reach down. It's shaped like an L, whatever it is, made of hard plastic. Lightning flashes, and you see it. A pistol, dull black in color. The grip is slick with blood.

_{“You are my hammer and weapon of war: with you I break nations in pieces; with you I destroy kingdoms;" - Jeremiah 51:20}

You jump back, dropping the gun with a loud clatter, falling onto your butt. Another burst of light, and you see a trail of blood leading from the pistol down the hall. On your hands and knees, you crawl back to the gun and pick it up. It's heavy and cold, but the blood is warm, like earlier. Your flesh hand shakes, the hard plastic of the gun tapping against your metal hand. Okay, okay, deep breaths. This is a weapon. You think. You aren't sure how you know, but you know it's a gun. How do you know this? How could you immediately tell what it was?

_{Do you enjoy these quotes? Do they make you feel smart? Wise? Worldly? Or is it simply a way of wrapping violence up in a pretty little bow, sanitizing it as a necessary evil?}

You turn the gun over in your hands. "What are you?" you mutter, your voice raspy and weak. The screen on your arm lights up once more, showing the text "LOADING" for a few moments, then goes blank but still lit up. The back of your head feels... warm and tingly. And then...

_{Does this weapon make you feel good?}

<It is a handgun.>

_{Is this what you wanted? Does safety come at the cost of death?}

You jump backwards once more, and the gun falls again. "Who... Who said that?" you say in a whispering voice.

_{When the blood of another pools upon the soft dirt, will these quotes harden your heart? Will they absolve you of sin?}

<Specifics: Pistol, caliber .45 ACP, Heckler and Koch USP Tactical. This specific one was clearly smuggled in from Earth, as it carries no Xerxian serial marks and the M16x1 LH barrel threading pitch is non-standard for Xerxian handguns. Would you like more information?>

_{What is a soul? What is it, compared to the factory-made firearm you have in your hands? Does it weight more, or less?}

You see on your arm, as the voice speaks, a sort of... wave thing... appears on the screen. Once the voice stops, the wave disappears. The voice was... robotic, tinny, and somewhat feminine, and it didn't come from outside. You heard it like it was inside of your head.

_{Do you feel safe?}

"W... Who?"

_{Will this harbinger of hellfire, this dutiful and rigid Excalibur, be your shining light in darkness? Will you allow death to be your beacon?}

<Ah, we were previously acquainted, but memory loss may have caused our introductions to become hazy. Hello, I am the Voice-Activated LEaRning IntErface. You may call me Valerie.>

[Eversor]

I...I mean... Your head is getting rather crowded....I somehow feel like Valerie is a voice we CAN't Ignore....

>Acknowledge Valerie.... also, While I think a gun is not a great tool to wield, in these trying times, perhaps holding on to it....for now is okay? Check to see how much ammo you have and look for any obvious damage that may have hindered it. you did drop it a few times!"

[viridianarcanist]

Ask Valerie for any information regarding the situation you're in, like what happened to you or who might have been shooting at you.

[Fish]

ask valerie to be your official best friend, yes there is a lot going on right now, but listen to her!! How can you not want to be friends with this robot voice???

[kaninchen]

"Are ... Are you a friend?" you ask. It's a silly question, but these are strange times.

ⁱ

<I have a vested interest in keeping you alive. I have been for a while. My safety depends on yours, and vice versa. It is a very low bar for 'friendship', but I will accept the title.>

^w

You lean your back up against the wall. The soft green glow of your arm screen is enough to let you see the gun better. More images flash through your head. Guns. Explosions. Combat. Death. You wince, shaking your head in a vain attempt to remove the thoughts. As quickly as they came, they leave, and you examine the pistol again. You know how to operate it... you think. How? You've never held one before. And yet those images... thousands upon thousands, all in an instant, all of different people in different times, wielding a menagerie of firearms... and now you understand.

ⁱ

Carefully, your thumb activates the magazine release. The magazine drops out from the grip with a gentle skrrrit into your other palm. A bullet peeks out at the top of the magazine, brass and steel, lightly scratched.

^l

<.45 ACP, and judging by the weight of the magazine in your hand, I sense a full 15 rounds.>

^l

As Valerie speaks, the back of your head tingles. "Are you... in my arm? Or my head?"

^b

<Yes. A module in the base of your neck allows me to speak to you directly. Others cannot hear me, unless you allow me to. This is default, as stealth is of utmost importance and me speaking aloud could give away your position.>

^e

You rub the back of your neck. Sure enough, there's a small metal 'chip', for the lack of a better word. It's warm to the touch. You let out a sigh, though you're not sure of relief or of anxiety. With slightly shaking hands, you insert the magazine back into the gun. Another few flashes in your head, and you wince again. Yes, yes, it's loaded but not ready. Hands still shaking somewhat, you thumb the safety off and carefully pull the slide back. It clicks softly.

^b

"So... where am I? What's going on with all the ... the rain, and me being shot at, and the blood?"

^a

Valerie's voice crackles for a few moments, as though humming in thought.

^c

<You are in the city of Sevenbridge. Last official population: 15 million. Predicted current population, not including roamers, scavengers, and itinerant mercenaries... zero. The shooter is an unknown force. The rain is common in this area at this time of year.>

^k

You stand, taking in a few breaths. A flicker of lightning. The trail of blood, still slick on the ground, splatters and smears its way down the hallway, to a single open room at the end.