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

[kaninchen]

"Do you know why the sniper was here?" you finally ask.

"There've been several," the woman says. She roots through the explosives crate, making a concerned face. "Always in a different location, keeping watch over an area. Always well-supplied, well-armed, and very deadly. Always for a few months at a time, then they disappear, along with all their supplies. We usually hear a helicopter, or some vehicle, taking them away."

"So they're being ... cycled through, for the lack of a better term?"

"... Sure, that's a way to put it." She looks slightly less annoyed at you now. "This is the first time one of them has been killed. Their superiors will probably send in a replacement within the next few days. They might also try to come destroy their supplies, so we'll have to act fast to take it all."

"Do you want help? Taking it back, I mean."

She looks at you, silently.

"I just... I want to help. You're the first people I've met who... well, aren't dead, and who didn't immediately shoot at me. And we both have a -- or... had, a common enemy in the sniper."

"We're not your friends," she says, vaguely gesturing at you with the machete. "We don't know if you're telling the truth, or a spy, or a danger to us."

"I... I don't want to be alone. Not anymore."

She squints. "Where are you from?"

"I don't know."

"Then you can't come with--"

"I'm serious, I don't know," you blurt out, interrupting her. "I have a name, and that's it. That's all I know."

You feel a little nervous, divulging more information like that, but ... you're desperate. You need to leave this place, and these people are your best chance.

"What's your name?" she asks, though it's more like a command.

"Pat. Pat Summers. And yours is...?"

[fuzzysocks]

Just Timmens, pretty sure she wouldn't tell you her first name quite yet.

[kaninchen]

Sept 25, 2020 20:16:15 GMT -5 fuzzysocks said:

Just Timmens, pretty sure she wouldn't tell you her first name quite yet.

Excellent point! You can add a first name if you want, but her using the last name (for now) is a great catch

[fuzzysocks]

Sept 25, 2020 21:01:36 GMT -5 kaninchen said:

Gotcha! Winona Timmens then

[knightlygale]

"Hah, that's funny. My last name is Autumn."

[Eversor]

Nue, just Nue.

[nuggies]

Akine

[kaninchen]

"Summers... funny." You think you see the slightest twitch of a smirk on her face, but it could just be a trick of the light. "You can call me 'Autumn' for now. I'm not comfortable with a first-name basis at the moment."

"Oh. Okay, that's fair." You pause for a moment, thinking. Social cues, things to say, greetings, politeness... what next? Perhaps...

"Thank you for, uh... I dunno. Just, thank you, I guess."

"Don't thank me yet," Autumn sighs. "I haven't done anything, and we still have to get to actual safety. I'm going against my own judgement here, by the way. Bringing you back could get all of us killed, but a part of me trusts you. It's the part of me that I don't normally listen to. So you're going to do what I say, when I say it, understood?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"Good." Autumn turns to the man. "Update me."

"They're sendin' in six to take the supplies, with a forward team to scan for traps. Jesse's bringing the metal detector."

Autumn gives the man a pat on the shoulder, then makes for the door. "Let's go. Pat, grab some stuff if you can, and follow."

You nod, and decide to pick up a smaller box, about the size of a suitcase, and thankfully with a handle. It's marked as water purification tablets. That might be a welcome reprieve for these scavengers, you assume. The man tucks the walkie-talkie away and gives you a smirk.

"She's more of a 'tough love' sorta gal. The fact that she ain't killed you is a compliment. I'd shake your hand, but..." he shrugs, nodding his head to gesture at the two weapons he's carrying. "You'll get your weapons back once we're at camp, I'm sure. Just bein' cautious, yeah?"

"I understand," you reply, lugging the box up towards the door. "It's... good to meet you."

"Yeah, you're probably lucky. I'm the friendliest face in a ten-klick radius. Maximilian Timmens Senior. Jus' call me Max." He smiles.

You can't help but offer a little smile back.

"Don't worry, I trust you. I can tell when folks are genuinely scared, and you look like you've been through hell and back. Once we're at camp, we'll get you some proper clothes, a hot meal, and take it from there."

You nod. Max follows behind you as you enter the hall, where Autumn is waiting. She beckons you forward.

Down the stairs, carefully winding through debris and cubicles and poorly-lit halls. Autumn's path is slow but purposeful, as she keeps an eye out for tripwires, blinking lights, and other nasty surprises. Max scans the ceiling just in case, flashlight sweeping gently across dilapidated ceiling tiles and exposed insulation. 'Ground' floor, water sloshing only a few feet below you, second-story windows gazing out at a drowned and misty horizon. Autumn heads for a large floor-to-ceiling window, which has been smashed open. Cold wind greets you once again.

"Don't slip," Autumn says, hopping to a car rooftop. The path lies ahead of you: a trail of cars and bus stop roofs, various buildings with cleaned-out second floors, makeshift bridges of plywood and sheet metal, and occasionally just a running jump and a prayer. You follow dutifully, hardly missing a step.

After several minutes of silent pathfinding, you enter the upper floor of a massive mall. Dozens of storefronts, some shuttered and boarded up, others smashed in. Every single one has the same thing spray-painted upon it: a big X, and the word EMPTY. You presume it's how scavvers tell one another that there's no point trying to loot it anymore. They look empty inside, save for some glass shards and crumpled trash. Your footsteps echo throughout the extensive corridor, an arched roof overhead with windows on the ceiling. Some are broken, letting in wind and rain. This place was once full of life. Restroom doors swing lazily back and forth from the draft. A discarded food wrapper tumbles across the floor. A torn and stained banner stating "SALE!" is impaled on a broken window, glass shards piercing the flimsy advertisement.

The corridor is incredibly long. You think of a few more questions to help pass the time...

[fuzzysocks]

Should we ask them what the headhunters the people mentioned are?

[baropin]

We should probably do that, and also ask why this city is currently a flooded, shattered ruin -- what happened?

[tronntronn]

Ask who these people are. Why are they scavenging in the city?

[kaninchen]

"Who are the Headhunters?" you finally ask. Although you speak quietly, your words echo throughout the husks of battered storefronts.

"Dunno," Max answers, his voice similarly quiet. "Showed up one day, a few months back. Folks got a lotta nicknames for 'em: boogeymen, shadows, stalkers, and so on. Everyone eventually settled on 'Headhunter', cuz that's what they do. One of your buddies will disappear, and a few days later you'll find their decapitated body stuffed in a closet. The only heads they don't take are the damaged ones."

"Why do they take just the head?"

Max shrugs. "Could be some kinda sick trophy. The cuts are clean, and they only take the ones in good condition. Most every scavver around here knows that if you're gonna die, have a friend bash your head in. Sucks, yeah, but at least you get to keep your dignity."

You try to think of why someone would want just the head. Maybe they want parts of it? Eyes, brain, tongue, teeth? Clean cuts mean they know what they're doing. If they were trophies, wouldn't they display the heads or the bodies prominently, rather than hiding them away? You keep your thoughts to yourself, for now.

A few moments of silence pass.

"So... why is everything so ruined around here?"

Max turns his head to look at you, and oh boy is it a look.

"Just..." you sigh. "Just assume I've been living under a rock, okay?"

He nods slowly, then turns to face where he's walking once more. "This was like, twenty years back. Whole city was intentionally flooded. The government was refusing to listen to Midnight Eclipse and their demands -- they're a big-ass mercenary group -- and so Eclipse went and blew up the dams and seawalls. Shit was made to withstand tsunamis, but not several tons of explosives. Whole city had to evacuate."

"What were the demands? Seems excessive to just... flood an entire city."

This time, Autumn pipes up. "Those thugs wanted to annex the city into their circle of influence. They already had New Haven under their thumb, and Sevenbridge was the last major independent port in the northern hemisphere. They wanted total control." She hocks up a big loogie and spits it on the floor to accentuate her disgust. "And when the city said no, Eclipse decided that if they couldn't have it, nobody could. Fuck the millions of innocent people living here, right?"

"That's awful," you add. You genuinely do feel awful, seeing how this city has been turned into a shell of its former self. "They'd really just destroy everything, just like that?"

"Yeah." Autumn's voice is cold and monotone, speaking low not out of a need for stealth, but in an attempt to hold back from shouting her real emotions. "They won't stop until the entire planet is theirs. But I'm not leaving. I was born here, and I'm staying here until I die."

"You were here when it happened?"

Autumn is quiet for a few seconds. Finally, she speaks. "They took my husband and son in the flood. But they didn't take me. I've been here ever since, trying to take this city back."

"I'm so sorry." Again, you can't help but say this. These emotions... compassion, empathy... you're feeling them now, for the first time. They hurt, squeezing your heart. The bodies you've seen, they were also fighting for this city that would never be the same.

Autumn looks over her shoulder at you. Narrow eyes, sizing you up, but there is a bit of softness. "... Thanks."

"Are all the scavvers here... were they here for the flood?"

"Not all of us," Max says, picking up this question so Autumn can be left with her thoughts. "Some of us, like me and Autumn were. We stuck around. This is our home, yeah? I don't have family anywhere else, and I ain't gonna end up in some refugee camp. Other scavvers, though, they're here for lotsa reasons. Some just wanna adventure and explore -- they don't last long, cuz they either die, or realize how much a pain in the ass it is to be here. Others want to salvage as much as they can to sell for a quick couple'a creds. Hell, there's even a few aid workers who came to help those left behind and ended up stranded themselves."

"Not easy to make proper money here," Autumn adds. "Some do 'lost-and-found bounty hunting', which is the most lucrative at this point. After twenty years, most of the actual expensive stuff is gone -- jewelry, electronics, cold hard cash, and so on. But a lot of the people who fled the city hire folks like us to find their sentimental things. Stuff that isn't worth a lot of money to other people. They pay us to find, say, wedding photos, or their kid's old stuffed animals, or whatever. Then we smuggle that to them."

"Have you made a lot of money over the years?" you ask.

"At first. But money doesn't really mean shit out here. No stores or shops out here. We just trade supplies. Only people who care about money are those who want to capitalize on other people's pain."

"Amen to that," Max says with a chuckle. He turns to you and smirks. "I stopped caring about the cash too. Funny how shit turns out. Spent my teen years workin' dead-end jobs to save up for a new video game or a nice night out with my girlfriend..." He kicks an empty plastic bottle off the edge, bouncing it over the railing and into the floodwaters below. "We lived and died for the grind. Now look at it. I'm still here, but the grind ain't."

"So... Pat." Autumn's tone is pointed, piercing. Polite, but clearly digging for information. "If you weren't around for the flood, and you don't know where you're from, then how'd you end up in here?"

[fuzzysocks]

Lie and say you don't know, but tell about where you woke up honestly. Just don't tell them about Valerie or what she told you.

[tronntronn]

Say that you suffer from amnesia.

[kaninchen]

Suggested Audio Experience:

"I... I don't know. I don't really remember a lot."

Autumn gives you a suspicious look.

"I know, I know, I'm not doing much to help you trust me right now. But... I swear. All I know is that I woke up in an apartment building, and I started getting shot at by the sniper. I don't have any recollection of anything before that."

You're not technically lying -- you really do have no tangible memories before waking up. Although, you're deliberately leaving out the ... vision? ... of the laboratory, and everything involving Valerie.

"So what you're saying is," Max begins, then mulls over his words. "... You woke up, only knowing your name, and one of the first things you did is kill the sniper that's been harassin' us for months?"

"Uh. Yeah, I guess you can put it that way."

Max chuckles. "Shit, I like this girl. At this rate, she'll be overthrowing the government in a week."

"Don't threaten me with a good time," Autumn says in a monotone voice. She sighs. "Look, Pat, there's really only one reason I'm trusting you, and that's because it's really unlikely you'd be on the side of the sniper."

"Why's that?"

"That sniper has been targeting Coneans. When we'd go out in groups, they'd target the Coneans first. All their traps and tricks and whatever-the-fuck were deliberately aimed at them first. Having two long ears is like having a bullseye painted on you. So while there isn't a whole lot that's believable in your story, the fact that you were being shot at is."

"Yeah," Max adds on. "Very few Conean scavvers left here. The smart ones left, and the stubborn ones died. Dunno why the snipers are specifically going after y'all, but whatever the reason, it's kinda fucked up. Hell... makes me wonder if you were dropped into this city on purpose."

"That's sick," Autumn mumbles. "... But might be true, unfortunately."

"Like, dropped in here to be killed by the snipers?" You're a bit confused. You're fairly certain you weren't put here to be killed, considering Valerie's directive of keeping you alive.

"Sure. Some kinda huntin'-you-for-sport kinda thing. Maybe you don't remember shit cuz they drugged you up and plopped you out here. Coulda been a ... failed experiment, or maybe you got on the wrong side of the mafia. I dunno, I'm just throwin' ideas out there. Awful, horrible ideas."

You certainly hope that wasn't the reason. Again, you doubt it, but ... the fact that Max would think of those things means they might be a bit more common than you're comfortable with.

The end of the grand and derelict hall approaches. Dilapidated stores flanking either side of you give way to a giant department store, which is, to nobody's surprise, completely looted. Empty walls, bare and defaced mannequins, smashed jewelry counters, knocked-over shelving units. Rainwater drips from the ceiling tiles, mixed with dirt and debris, leaving muddy pools on the ground. One mannequin, alone on a pedestal, is gently stroked by the dripping water, leaving darkened streaks upon its otherwise blank white plastic face. It weeps for the world it once knew, and will never know again.

Finally, at the far end, reprieve from the shadows. Floor-to-ceiling windows, shattered. Makeshift walkways of plywood and sheet metal create a rough trail across the floodwaters, attached to lampposts and cars weighed down with cinderblocks. The three of you -- technically four, if you count Valerie -- cross the crude bridges. You tighten your grip on the crate of water purification tablets, hoping you don't drop them. Once again, the rain stabs you like cold spears, and the wind whips up your hair. Max and Autumn do not miss a step, traversing the waters with honed skill.

Another building, another set of smashed windows to which the bridge leads. An electric light, shielded from the elements by a metal cage, flickers gently. Autumn beckons you inside.

Inside, it's like a whole different world. Two heaters -- working heaters! -- flank the sides of the entrance, immediately warming you up. Lights are strung up on the ceiling, and old ruined clothes have been used to insulate the walls. The ceiling is patched up, the floors are swept clean. People... live here.

"Well... welcome to our little sanctuary," Autumn says. "Wipe your feet, goodness knows there's already enough water and dirt in here already."