The Last Free Folk

(Content warnings: intrusive thoughts, violence, suicide.) //Just shoot. Aim for the dream-pan. Don’t think about the life, don’t think about the family. They could have made any other choice that lead them to any other moment; it’s not your responsibility, it’s theirs.// You haul on the lever and the sniper rifle ejects its spent casing. You pump another into the chamber. “Good, Lena!” You swivel it on its mount, level it directly at the tomato-can head of another of the makeshift target mannequins. Hesitate. Hold breath. Pull the trigger. The tomato can goes flying into the junkyard – or should you say, the wilderness. The old man puts his hand on your shoulder. You lean into it, trying to hold your face in that concentrated pose. “I think you’re getting more consistent than me. And the time that it takes to line up the shot is getting shorter every time.” “I’m not lining up the shot…" you mumble. “You’re what, sweetheart?” “Doesn’t matter.” You peel your hands from the rifle – they’re slick with sweat. You turn to him. See his eyes, kind for you. You’ve seen them cold. “I’m so proud of you, Lena,” he says. He means it. He’s proud that you can kill. Wooly rumbles beneath your feet, his metal creaking at the comfortable strain. Wooly is home base, he’s everything – your stolen home and mobile command centre. For you, the first is more important than the second. “Oiyo!!!” Comes a cry from Wooly’s head one level above us. You can hear the whirring of Ollie's Canaries. The old man smiles benevolently. “What would we do without that boy?” You turn the sniper rifle towards you, make sure to place the barrel in your mouth. You reach to pull the trigger. //No.// The thought impedes upon your mind and you grip the balcony railing. Wooly shudders beneath you. Great grinding treads mow the earth beneath you as the trees start to roll by. You’ve grown used to the sound over the past six years. You focus on that. "Hm." The old man says, none the wiser. "I suppose it is time to get going." He turns towards you and sees your hands squeezing, your eyes distant. He puts a hand on your shoulder and kisses your cheek. “I love you, sweetheart. Try not to worry so much.” It’s a ridiculous thing to say, but then again, so is everything.(set: $rifle to "jammed") (set: $Dawn to "unvisited") (set: $Ollie to "unvisited") (set: $Uza to "unvisited") (set: $Self to "unvisited") [["I’ll try."]] [["I love you too, Javi."]] [[Go to be alone with your thoughts.]]

It's not a //lie// per se. You are trying to be okay with what you have to do. You think the old man understands how hard it is, but he has the utmost faith that you'll pull through. That's almost worse. "Well, I'd better get on." The old man grumbles. "Gotta double-check our progress. Wooly's been slowin' down these last couple days; we may be farther from the river than I thought." "Sure thing, Javi. Do you want me to ask Uza if there's anything we can do to speed 'im up?" "If you feel like gettin' an earful about the cracked drivetrain and an over-reliance on solar energy, be my guest, darlin'." "Maybe I'll do that." You shrug. If they're free, Uza can be quite the conversationalist - but if they're focused, you know you'll never get more than half-a-word per second out of them. "Why don't you clean that rifle? I'm sure Dawn could give you a few pointers." The suggestion makes you wince, but you know that you shouldn't have to be afraid of this little instrument of wood and metal. Besides that, maybe you'd have an easier time opening up to Dawn down in the armory. There's also Ollie up on the deck - he might be good for a laugh, and if he saw your dropped face he might let you pilot one of his Canaries. Javi totters off towards the drive-center, leaving you to decide how to spend your rare bit of down-time. [[Talk to Dawn in the armory.]] [[Go see Ollie on the deck.]] [[Check on Uza in the engine room.]] [[Go to be alone with your thoughts.]]

You say it, and you mean it. You want to make sure he knows, but it's... strained. "Well, I'd better get on." The old man grumbles. "Gotta double-check our progress. Wooly's been slowin' down these last couple days; we may be farther from the river than I thought." "Sure thing, Javi. Do you want me to ask Uza if there's anything we can do to speed 'im up?" "If you feel like gettin' an earful about the cracked drivetrain and an over-reliance on solar energy, be my guest, darlin'." "Maybe I'll do that." You shrug. If they're free, Uza can be quite the conversationalist - but if they're focused, you know you'll never get more than half-a-word per second out of them. "Why don't you clean that rifle? I'm sure Dawn could give you a few pointers." The suggestion makes you wince, but you know that you shouldn't have to be afraid of this little instrument of wood and metal. Besides that, maybe you'd have an easier time opening up to Dawn down in the armory. There's also Ollie up on the deck - he might be good for a laugh, and if he saw your dropped face he might let you pilot one of his Canaries. Javi totters off towards the drive-center, leaving you to decide how to spend your rare bit of down-time. [[Talk to Dawn in the armory.]] [[Go see Ollie on the deck.]] [[Check on Uza in the engine room.]] [[Go to be alone with your thoughts.]]

Your eye holds on the gun strapped to the old man's leg. It sends a morbid shiver down your spine - He raises it to shoot you in the face. //Blam, blam.// You see him standing over your body. He shoots you over and over, nine-milimetre bullets smashing your nose and cheekbones into pulp. You watch your own face change from human to an object, a hollow mockery. But that didn't happen. You blink. The old man's eyes are crinkled with worry. You need to be alone. "I'll see you later, Javi." You wrap your arms around your body and head down the open balcony to the heavy hatch. It's always easier when you don't have to watch the outside world rolling by. Inside, it's all beating heart and warmth. The world may be devastated, it may be full of threat and horror, but in here you are safe. Hatch after hatch - and then you're back in the room you share with the old man. You crawl into your bunk, its wall lined with photos of the old world. You didn't put them up - he did. There's a prickling on the skin of your thighs, old scars. (set: $Self to "visited") [[You feel them burning sometimes, in the dark hours.]] [[They're nothing but a reminder of who you were.]]

Your scars and current and constant. You feel them burning - with a single strike you could rip them open again. (set: $scars to "recent") You know you can't. You know you shouldn't. Sometimes it's the only thing that makes the world make sense. You reach for the knife in the little compartment next to your bed. The one at your hip is different, for survival, for cutting hide and small fruit. This one has only ever been for you. It is short, not too wide. It's not sharp enough - you won't do any lasting damage. Holding it is more peaceful than any teddy the old man's tried to force on you, but a little thrilling, too. [[Just a little, to take the edge off.]] [[Put the knife back.]]

You were young, then. You had to do it to remind yourself how to feel; it was a pressure release valve. The responsibility they rain down upon you, all their hopes and dreams. You start hearing the phrase "repopulate the free species" at age ten, that's gonna fuck you up good. Of course you cut yourself. But you stopped. One day you were out hunting with the old man, it was the third time he'd let you hold a gun. A tree branch slapped your thigh and those secret cuts burned. It hurt more than it had to, and for once the pain was more annoying than comforting. You realized you didn't need it anymore. You had other pressure releases; Uza was teaching you how to work on Wooly's engine. Sometimes you would paint with Ollie. Slowly, you were able to sublimate that feeling of powerlessness; you used it to take control of the time you had. You left the temptation behind, and last year you buried your knife by the side of the road. You still have the one at your side, of course, for skinning and crafting. The old habit crosses your mind now and then, but it's nothing close to what you used to feel. Sometimes, like now, you take out your utility knife and hold it over bare skin. It flashes before your mind like flickering film; you imagine the knife sinking in, or slashing, or peeling, over and over it plays. But in reality, you are safe. You are in control, and you've proved it. Your responsibilities and fears are still scratching at the door, but the moment alone helped. You put the knife back in its sheath at your belt. The crisis passed, the whole evening still lies ahead of you. And the old man //did// ask you to clean that rifle... [[Talk to Dawn in the armory.]] [[Go see Ollie on the deck.]] [[Check on Uza in the engine room.]] [[Read until dinner.]]

You hug the rifle tight in your arms as you tread down the hall towards the armory. It's not the most comforting place, but Dawn is certainly the most comforting person on ol' Wooly. The hatch is already cracked open - it's against protocol, but no matter how many times the old man has it out with her, Dawn never seems to care. "You'll allow me the luxury of a draft now and then, Javier." She would say. "If we're going to be confined to a rolling prison, we can at least give it a little circulation." You nudge the hatch open enough to enter, and the first thing you see is Dawn's radiant smile. Or, it's radiant to you - anyone else probably just sees a subtle upturn of the cheek. But it's the way her eyes crinkle. It's the way she makes you feel safe. "Hi, Dawn." You say, small-framed in the door. You feel like a child, and it's not all bad. Children shouldn't have to kill anyone. "Hey, sweetpea." She says. "Wanna come sit on down? I'm just makin' a big batch of gunpowder, maybe you can watch and make sure I don't accidentally put cumin where the calcium carbonate should be." "The dangers of being the cook and the chemist." You giggle. "Indeed." Dawn agrees. "What's on your mind, sweetpea?" "How do you know anything's on my mind?" "Magic." She grins. It's a little wider, more mischievious, than her first smile. (set: $Dawn to "visited") [[Get to work cleaning the rifle.]] (if: $scars is "recent")[ [[Show Dawn your scars.]] ]

"Lena? Lena!" Ollie calls as soon as he sees you haul yourself over the side of topdeck. Ollie's lopsided grin seems to stretch his whole face. His buzzcut-head only serves to accentuate that malleability, you can see the skin folding at his temples as he beams at you. "Come check out my new buzzy boy!" He whoops and pats a salvaged hunk of familiar blue-gray metal. As you approach, the origins become clear; it's one of the Arch's scout drones. Arachnoid eyes, whirling rotors. You used to see these every day, peeking in your window, hovering above crowded streets. Ollie's Canaries are different. They wait patiently on little racks behind him now, some painted fabulous colours so we can tell them apart from threats while we're away from Wooly. You've helped paint them more than a couple times. "Looks good, Ollie." You say with lopsided grin - it's hard to contain around Ollie. You pat the salvaged drone - the sensation of its motor mulching your hand comes and passes. "What do you think the colour scheme should be? Or - ooh, what do you think we should name her?" "You think it's a her?" You ask. "Could be, could be. I'm thinking 'Iris', or maybe 'Couquihola'?" "You got that from one of the highway signs, didn't you?" Ollie only grins in response. "You're not the only one who pays attention to the world out there!" (set: $Ollie to "visited") [["Iris is really pretty."]] [["Couquihola - how about 'Kooky' for short?]] [["What about 'Crow'?"]]

Taking the ladder down into the engine room is like lowering yourself into the mouth of a benevolent beast. You suppose the comparison doesn't stop at gaping hatch and the warm humming all around you; this is Wooly's tummy, the place where fuel is converted into energy. Uza essentially lives down here, her dark skin streaked with darker grease. Her hair poofs out from her head, tied behind her. Her coveralls are lined with various tools. "Hullo Lena." She speaks before your feet have even hit the deck. "Coming to learn or to escape?" (set: $Uza to "visited") [["Learn."]] [["Escape."]] [["Can't it be both?"]]

You hold the knife above your arm at first, but you know that won't work. You have to show your arms too much when you're working on the engine, or hunting outside. There's a little bathroom just off the room you share with the old man. You slide the door closed, lock it, and pull your knee-length shorts off. You sit in the tub, the usual place. Is it wrong to have a routine for this? Nonsense. You're not hurting anybody. You measure a good distance away from your last cuts, place the knife carefully. You press and draw it across the top of your thigh. Skin and muscle resist you, make the cut shallow. Maybe you should sharpen the blade - you have enough control to make sure you don't do any real damage, don't you? They say that sharper blades are safer, even. This doesn't feel the same as last time. You wait for the endorphins, and sure, there's a buzz. But mostly there's just burning. A small sad beckoning for more. You imagine the old man opening the door and finding you here. Maybe that would almost be worth the earful - maybe he would ask you what's wrong and really mean it. Then again, you could be a fucking adult and talk to someone about it. You wash off the knife and wrap up your thigh. Sometimes a good bandage feels almost better than the cut. You got to fix something, even if you broke it yourself. Shorts back on, knife safely stashed. You still have the day ahead of you. [[Read until dinner.]] (if: $Dawn is "unvisited")[ [[Talk to Dawn in the armory.]] ] (if: $Ollie is "unvisited")[ [[Go see Ollie on the deck.]] ] (if: $Uza is "unvisited")[ [[Check on Uza in the engine room.]] ]

You can't trust yourself with it. It isn't safe. You settle the knife back in its compartment, let its blade linger on the tip of your finger. And then you close the drawer, unharmed. But your scars are still burning. You need something - anything - to take your mind off it. Everything in the room has to do with the old world - something you never really knew - but the old man is always trying to get you to read more. Or maybe music? You could also leave and try to talk to somebody. But... none of them know. [[Try to deal with it on your own.]] (if: $Dawn is "unvisited")[ [[You could open up to Dawn in the armory.->Talk to Dawn in the armory.]] ] (if: $Uza is "unvisited")[ [[Uza the engineer would keep you busy.->Check on Uza in the engine room.]] ] (if: $Ollie is "unvisited")[ [[Ollie the scout would cheer you up.->Go see Ollie on the deck.]] ]

You can handle this, you know you can. You've handled everything until now, and this is just one more example to be made. You grab your bag and sling the old man's rifle over your shoulder - ignore the momentary flash you get when you touch it. It's a short stomp down the hallway to be back out on mid-deck. The fresh air feels good, but it's not enough. You feel like the burning of your scars is going to sear through your clothing, everybody's going to see. But of course they won't. You won't let them. Wooly is rumbling beneath you as you climb up to top-deck. Ollie's close, and you think you hear him call out to you, but you're on a mission. You come to the edge of top-deck. The dirt and concrete is mulched beneath Wooly's great treads far below you. Another brief flash: what would you look like if you got caught under there? That's an old ploy, you tell yourself. They would never start Wooly running without everybody on board. You focus on the treeline. The mountains beyond that. If you close your eyes, something else will fill it in. You decide to absorb as much of the world as you can, through your eyes, through your ears. Wooly's rolling crushers, the peaceful breeze. Ollie's little scout drones - wait. That doesn't look like one of Ollie's. And if it was, it wouldn't hide from you in the trees like that. As soon as you focus your eyes on it, it's gone. Did you imagine it? God, how can you tell paranoia from intrusive fear from reality? [[Unsling your rifle.]] [[It's probably nothing.]]

"It's really nothing." You say, and sit down next to Dawn. You start dissembling the rifle. Pull a latch here, a lever there. "You're getting better at that." Dawn observes as she levels out a bit of powder from her newest batch into a home-made shotgun shell. "Yeah." You say. "Pass the oil?" Dawn has to reach across herself to get it - she needs to hold the shell still with her other hand - but she passes the oil to you and gets back to work. You pick up a little scrap rag from the side-table and start oiling the bolt of your rifle. "Did Javi give that to you?" Dawn asks. (set: $rifle to "clean") [["Yeah, it's mine."]] [["I'm just holding onto it."]]

Standing there in the doorway, you pull up the leg of your pants - it goes just barely far enough to see your lowest mark. Or wound. Whatever it is. "There are more. I just, can't..." Dawn nods, solemn. You don't know what you expected, but... you thought it would be more than this. "Sweetheart." She says, finally. And she hugs you. You lose your grip and your pant leg falls down again. You hug her back. You feel numb. Dawn walks you over to the workbench and you sit down together. "You don't have to show me if you don't want to, but - how do the other ones look? Are you taking care of them?" You nod. You wouldn't let them get infected. You don't want to die that way. Dawn smiles - now the radiance of her it seems off-putting, but you can't quite place why. "Now. I'm not going to ask why you're doing this." Dawn says. "And I know there are better ways to kill yourself, so this isn't about that. It's about release, am I right?" You don't really know what to say. You nod. "We all have ways of doing that, sweetheart." Dawn says. "You know the old man and I drink. Ollie plays with his bots. Uza works on the engine. We all have ways of getting through this. I'm not going to tell you you need to stop. I'm just going to say that I'm glad you showed me, and I want to help you find another way." "What... what else is there?" You ask. "Well. For one, there's work." Dawn smiles and moves around to the bench where some empty shells are waiting for powder. "Talk with me?" She asks. You look down at the rifle at your side. Javier asked you to clean it. But how could Dawn be so calm? You just... is it really not that big a deal? [[Get to work cleaning the rifle.]] [[Leave the room.]]

The worst of it has passed. You can touch the knife at your belt, and watch yourself bring it up to your throat, but the spraying blood doesn't fill your vision. You take your finger off the knife, you focus on the next step, and it disappears. You settle in your spot on topdeck, watch the world roll by as the sun starts to set. Exhale. Today, like every other day, was surmountable. It's not a battle, it's a wrestling match - competetitive and, ultimately, friendly. You decide to spend a little time with your mind and read it a book. It's something the old man gave you, teen lit he thought you might like. The cover was water-stained, the book itself small enough to fit in your back pocket. You balk at first. How could he treat you like such a child and still expect you to kill? But when you crack the cover, you find yourself invested despite yourself. The characters, though frequently insufferable, are all struggling with broader issues mostly related to their intelligence. They find themselves thinking judgementally, and recursively judge themselves for it, and on and on. One of the characters, Zooey, is a conceited actor who seems to think he knows better than everyone around him. And he goes about saying it wrong, always telling them exactly what he thinks - but he really is wise. He just needs to learn how to say it right. You're almost done the book when Dawn calls you for dinner. You smile and stash the book in your back pocket. You've barely eaten all day. The 'mess hall' is really more of a 'mess nook' off the small kitchenette, but your group makes it work. Uza doesn't always join you, but tonight they have. Ollie's curled up in the corner. You sit next to him. Dawn lays out metal bowls (difficult to break in case of a crash) of mashed taters, pan-fried vegetables, and small cuts of meat. "Thanks so much, as always." The old man looks at Dawn in a certain way - your brain may have been activated to think this way by the book you just read, but you swear you see Javi's look dripping with unrequited affection. "Well, thanks to you! Wouldn't be meat without you hunting this morning." "And thanks to me?" Ollie asks. "How could we forget our premo veggie harvester?" The old man grins. "Thanks to Ollie!" "Thanks to Ollie!" You shout too. The kid grins. ... But he can't wait any longer. He dives across the table to grab the vegetables and starts piling them onto his plate. This is one of your more bountiful meals - sometimes Dawn has had to portion out the plates carefully, but today there's enough for someone to have seconds. The group collectively nominates Ollie. "So not to talk too much shop, but where's our next bearing?" Uza says. "Wooly's guts are getting hot, he could use a rest to vent." "We can't rest." The old man says simply. (if: $drone is "shot")["With the drone that Lena and Ollie spotted earlier today, we can't let up for at least a week of travel."] "Then I'll need some support so I can do preventative maintenance. I don't think we're going to break down any time soon, but we'll have to stop for fifteen minutes at least." "Can it wait until tomorrow?" Javi asks. Uza considers, for a moment, then nods. "If we do it first thing." (if: $drone is "shot")["By the way, Lena." The old man leans over the warmly-lit table. "Really good work today with spotting that drone." He's proud of you. He means it like a compliment. You nod and try to smile. "Yeah, I mean. It was close, I almost didn't catch it." "But you did." Dawn nods. "That's what matters. You take action when you see an opportunity." "What does it mean?" Ollie asks. "I haven't found anyone on my feeds, but... are they close?" "Shouldn't be." Uza shakes their head. "They send drones when they're looking for targets a long way off." "But they're still looking." The old man says. "That's enough for me." Dawn nods solemnly.] "First light!" Ollie grins. "Us among the mist, watching every shape and swirl for the smallest sign of danger. I'm looking forward to it." You shake your head and hit Ollie's shoulder. "Don't suppose I'll be able to sleep in, huh?" You groan, playing your part. "'Fraid not, kiddo." Javi says. "We'll need all hands on deck. You clean that rifle?" (if: $rifle is "clean")["Yeah, of course I did." "And we had a good chat while she did it, too." Dawn smiles bright at you. "Don't worry, Javi. This kid is more together than you think."] (if: $rifle is "jammed")["I, uh... yeah." You lie. "Got it done while I was in my room." Dawn gives you a suspicious look, but doesn't say a word.] "All right, okay." Javi shrugs with a smile. "Just wanted to make sure." "I'd better turn in early." You finish the last little bite of dinner and pick yourself up. "Ah, if I'm not on dishes?" "No, that's me." Uza says. "You go, Lena. Sleep well." [[Go to sleep.]]

You may not trust your mind, but you trust your eyes. The rifle feels sure in your hands; you guess all those drills with the old man really do pay off. It doesn't take long for the drone to reappear, its little arachnoid eyes peering out from the treeline, reflecting the sunlight. If you take the time to aim, it's going to spot you. You gently set your finger next to the trigger. It's ready to snap up to your shoulder. You move like lightning. [[Shoot the drone.]] [[Shoot yourself.]]

You turn away from the treeline. You're brain's played enough tricks on you; you know by now that the best way to deal with them is to ignore them. Time to find something else to do. From here you can see Ollie tinkering at his little workbench, but there are other places to be; Ollie's excitability isn't always what you need when you're feeling tenuous. [[Read until dinner.]] (if: $Dawn is "unvisited")[ [[Talk to Dawn in the armory.]] ] (if: $Ollie is "unvisited")[ [[Go see Ollie on the deck.]] ] (if: $Uza is "unvisited")[ [[Check on Uza in the engine room.]] ]

//Blam.// "Hah!" You whoop out loud. "Good fucking shot, Lena!" Ollie's suddenly at your shoulder, and you nearly jolt off topdeck in surprise. He hugs you around the shoulders. "You're an elf!" He grins. "Eyes like a hawk!" "Am I an elf or a hawk?" You giggle like a dork. Ollie always knows how to make you laugh. "Both! You've got better eyes than my birds, even!" "I mean, hey. I'm pretty good, but I don't have infrared." "Can I tell you a secret?" Ollie leans in. "Uh, yeah?" You cock an eyebrow. "Neither do they. That's just somethin' I tell the old man so he'll keep finding me the parts I ask for." "You dork." You punch Ollie's shoulder. "I should probably go tell the old man to change course for tonight." Ollie sighs. "Dangit, we've been able to go straight for so long." "Yeah, I'll miss the highway too. The price of freedom, hey?" "No kidding. See you at dinner?" "... You bet." You say. The breeze plays across your cheeks. Ollie grins wide as he descends the ladder towards mid-deck. Then it's just you and the rifle. (set: $drone to "shot") [[Shoot yourself.]] [[Read until dinner.]]

It's a moment of weakness. The opportunity's been there in front of you for so long - maybe it was only a matter of time before you took it. Maybe the gene that governs the will to survive just didn't make it into you. Maybe your neurochemicals were off-balance - maybe they could have fixed you with a couple of the prescriptions you usually mark //useless// when you're scavenging. Maybe the people around you failed you. One thing's for sure: you failed them. Dawn and Uza bury you in a mountain field while Ollie sobs. The old man saves his crying for the bottle of scotch he was going to give you on your twentieth birthday. Dawn holds him while he vomits in the middle of the night. It doesn't matter now whether they live in freedom or die in captivity; whether they start the rebellion they're planning or lose all hope. You don't get to know now. They live the lives they have left with the hole you left in the world.

"Iris!" Ollie repeats. "I thought as much - our sweet burgeoning flower, Iris!" Ollie smooshes his face against the side of the little robot, leaving a streak of mud across his cheek. "I guess I better get to cleaning her up! Would you like to help me?" "Sure thing." You grab a rag and get to polishing - there's a bullethole clear through Kooky's frame. "Where'd you find her?" "Side of the road this morning. Wasn't us." "You're sure? The old man could have shot it before the rest of us were awake or something." "Pretty dang sure. This was a big ol' bullet, bigger than anything Dawn's been cookin' up." "Do you think there are other people out here, then? People like us?" "Couldn't be. Not so many freebies in the world. Musta been the Arch shootin' their own." "Why would they do that?" Ollie shrugs. "Bots go haywire, I get it. Remember Haemish Wire?" "I do." Ollie nods solemnly, takes a small bottle of oil from the shelf of his workshop, and pours a little out over the side of the deck. "I hereby pour one out for ol' Haemish, my most trusty and least loyal -" "Hey!" You hear a voice call out from mid-deck. Sounds like Uza. "Now who is pouring perfectly good oil out on the deck for someone else to clean up?" "It's a show of respect!" Ollie protests. "We'll take care of it, Uza!" You call back, stifling a giggle. "Sorry!" Ollie sighs. "No respect for the dead." You look out under your eyebrows. "You're gonna say that to //Uza//?" "Not to her face!" Ollie laughs. "You better get going - we're troublemakers, we shouldn't be seen together!" You put the rag down and stretch out your arms. Iris looks better; with the dirt gone, the damage is clearly visible and will be easier to repair. Ollie pokes his eye through the bullet-hole. "Ah-hah! Need a new gyro!" "Good luck with that, Ollie." You say. "See you at dinner!" "See you, Lena. Thank you for spending your precious few minutes with me." [[Read until dinner.]] (if: $Dawn is "unvisited")[ [[Talk to Dawn in the armory.]] ] (if: $Uza is "unvisited")[ [[Check on Uza in the engine room.]] ] (if: $Self is "unvisited")[ [[Go to be alone with your thoughts.]] ]

"Kooky!" Ollie exclaims. "I love it! My sweet Kooky." He leans down to kiss the metal, then has to blow a bit of dirt from his lips. "I guess I better get to cleaning her up! Would you like to help me?" "Sure thing." You grab a rag and get to polishing - there's a bullethole clear through Kooky's frame. "Where'd you find her?" "Side of the road this morning. Wasn't us." "You're sure? The old man could have shot it before the rest of us were awake or something." "Pretty dang sure. This was a big ol' bullet, bigger than anything Dawn's been cookin' up." "Do you think there are other people out here, then? People like us?" "Couldn't be. Not so many freebies in the world. Musta been the Arch shootin' their own." "Why would they do that?" Ollie shrugs. "Bots go haywire, I get it. Remember Haemish Wire?" "I do." Ollie nods solemnly, takes a small bottle of oil from the shelf of his workshop, and pours a little out over the side of the deck. "I hereby pour one out for ol' Haemish, my most trusty and least loyal -" "Hey!" You hear a voice call out from mid-deck. Sounds like Uza. "Now who is pouring perfectly good oil out on the deck for someone else to clean up?" "It's a show of respect!" Ollie protests. "We'll take care of it, Uza!" You call back, stifling a giggle. "Sorry!" Ollie sighs. "No respect for the dead." You look out under your eyebrows. "You're gonna say that to //Uza//?" "Not to her face!" Ollie laughs. "You better get going - we're troublemakers, we shouldn't be seen together!" You put the rag down and stretch out your arms. Kooky looks better; with the dirt gone, the damage is clearly visible and will be easier to repair. Ollie pokes his eye through the bullet-hole. "Ah-hah! Need a new gyro!" "Good luck with that, Ollie." You say. "See you at dinner!" "See you, Lena. Thank you for spending your precious few minutes with me." [[Read until dinner.]] (if: $Dawn is "unvisited")[ [[Talk to Dawn in the armory.]] ] (if: $Uza is "unvisited")[ [[Check on Uza in the engine room.]] ] (if: $Self is "unvisited")[ [[Go to be alone with your thoughts.]] ]

"Ooh, Crow! Brooding and mysterious, the dark horse of my tactical bird-team!" Ollie gives Crow an affirmatory pat and coats his hand in mud in the process. "I guess I better get to cleaning her up! Would you like to help me?" "Sure thing." You grab a rag and get to polishing - there's a bullethole clear through Kooky's frame. "Where'd you find her?" "Side of the road this morning. Wasn't us." "You're sure? The old man could have shot it before the rest of us were awake or something." "Pretty dang sure. This was a big ol' bullet, bigger than anything Dawn's been cookin' up." "Do you think there are other people out here, then? People like us?" "Couldn't be. Not so many freebies in the world. Musta been the Arch shootin' their own." "Why would they do that?" Ollie shrugs. "Bots go haywire, I get it. Remember Haemish Wire?" "I do." Ollie nods solemnly, takes a small bottle of oil from the shelf of his workshop, and pours a little out over the side of the deck. "I hereby pour one out for ol' Haemish, my most trusty and least loyal -" "Hey!" You hear a voice call out from mid-deck. Sounds like Uza. "Now who is pouring perfectly good oil out on the deck for someone else to clean up?" "It's a show of respect!" Ollie protests. "We'll take care of it, Uza!" You call back, stifling a giggle. "Sorry!" Ollie sighs. "No respect for the dead." You look out under your eyebrows. "You're gonna say that to //Uza//?" "Not to her face!" Ollie laughs. "You better get going - we're troublemakers, we shouldn't be seen together!" You put the rag down and stretch out your arms. Crow looks better; with the dirt gone, the damage is clearly visible and will be easier to repair. Ollie pokes his eye through the bullet-hole. "Ah-hah! Need a new gyro!" "Good luck with that, Ollie." You say. "See you at dinner!" "See you, Lena. Thank you for spending your precious few minutes with me." [[Read until dinner.]] (if: $Dawn is "unvisited")[ [[Talk to Dawn in the armory.]] ] (if: $Uza is "unvisited")[ [[Check on Uza in the engine room.]] ] (if: $Self is "unvisited")[ [[Go to be alone with your thoughts.]] ]

"That's a big thing, then." Dawn says. "A gun of your own." "I guess so." A moment of silence. The two of you work quietly side-by-side. [["I don't want to kill anyone."]] [[Work silently.]]

"I think it's everybody's." You clarify. "We share a great many things." Dawn nods. "But he wants you to use that rifle." "I guess so." A moment of silence. The two of you work quietly side-by-side. [["I don't want to kill anyone."]] [[Work silently.]]

Dawn stops. You try and focus on your work, but the slide is probably greased enough. You settle it back into place. "You guys always said you wanted to protect me from the things you had to do. Now you've decided I'm old enough to handle it, and - what if I can't?" Dawn nods. Her face is tight, controlled. One of her hands finds its way to your shoulder. "Sweetpea." She says. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry the world is like this." "I want to go back." You say. "Before I knew about all this." "Can I tell you a secret?" Dawn meets your eyes. "Yeah." "We all think that way sometimes. We all wish we could go back to our simpler lives." This comes as a surprise. "Really? Even Javier?" You ask. "Even the old man, yep. And you know what - he's worried about you, too. Just last week he was gushin' to me about how he wish he didn't have to teach you to shoot." "But it matters." You say. "He has to teach me, just like I have to learn. "That's the way of it." Dawn agrees. "But there ain't no shame in wishing it were different." The rifle's back together in your hands. Ready to kill. "I'll tell you another secret." Dawn says. "I think of my old apartment back in the City all the time. Trying to live off of scraps, working for nothing, masked assholes at every turn. But there's a nostalgia to it." Wooly rumbles around you. His guts churn below you. Dawn sighs. "We're out here so we can do better. We chose to make our lives worse so others can be better." "And we have to protect that." You say. "That's right. No one's saying it's easy. But I think it's going to be worth it. Does that help?" "A little. Killing someone... it's horrible." "On that we can agree." [["But it's necessary."]] [[Stay quiet.]]

You try and focus on your work, but the slide is probably greased enough. You settle it back into place. Dawn's comforting eyes are waiting for you when you chance a look. "You gonna make me ask, darlin'?" You take a deep breath. Two. Then you start, and it's like a sudden cascade from your mouth: "You guys always said you wanted to protect me from the things you had to do. Now you've decided I'm old enough to handle it, and - what if I can't?" Dawn nods. Her face is tight, controlled. One of her hands finds its way to your shoulder. "Sweetpea." She says. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry the world is like this." "I want to go back." You say. "Before I knew about all this." "Can I tell you a secret?" Dawn meets your eyes. "Yeah." "We all think that way sometimes. We all wish we could go back to our simpler lives." This comes as a surprise. "Really? Even Javier?" You ask. "Even the old man, yep. And you know what - he's worried about you, too. Just last week he was gushin' to me about how he wish he didn't have to teach you to shoot." "But it matters." You say. "He has to teach me, just like I have to learn. "That's the way of it." Dawn agrees. "But there ain't no shame in wishing it were different." The rifle's back together in your hands. Ready to kill. "I'll tell you another secret." Dawn says. "I think of my old apartment back in the City all the time. Trying to live off of scraps, working for nothing, masked assholes at every turn. But there's a nostalgia to it." Wooly rumbles around you. His guts churn below you. Dawn sighs. "We're out here so we can do better. We chose to make our lives worse so others can be better." "And we have to protect that." You say. "That's right. No one's saying it's easy. But I think it's going to be worth it. Does that help?" "A little. Killing someone... it's horrible." "On that we can agree." [["But it's necessary."]] [[Stay quiet.]]

"Damn right." Dawn says. "Because when it comes to the Arch, you know the asshole you kill wouldn't hesitate to do you in." You nod. It's been true since you left the city; countless little skirmishes, more near the beginning. You have to protect yourselves and Wooly. They're out there hunting you right now. "Thanks, Dawn." "Anytime, sweetpea." You pack up the rifle and head for the door. It's not resolved, but it's enough to move on. [[Read until dinner.]] (if: $Ollie is "unvisited")[ [[Go see Ollie on the deck.]] ] (if: $Uza is "unvisited")[ [[Check on Uza in the engine room.]] ] (if: $Self is "unvisited")[ [[Go to be alone with your thoughts.]] ]

You can't say it. The Arch is out there hunting you right now, but you can't bring yourself to say that they need to die. "Thanks, Dawn." You say as you pack up your rifle. "Anytime, sweetpea." You head for the door. It's not resolved, but there's nothing else Dawn can give you. She understands. You told someone. Maybe that's enough. [[Read until dinner.]] (if: $Ollie is "unvisited")[ [[Go see Ollie on the deck.]] ] (if: $Uza is "unvisited")[ [[Check on Uza in the engine room.]] ] (if: $Self is "unvisited")[ [[Go to be alone with your thoughts.]] ]

You're awake before anyone else. The dawn shines through your porthole window, diffused by mist and pine. You tie your greasy hair into a short ponytail, trudge down the hall to the kitchen, and grab yourself a bag full of granola. It's there that Dawn finds you. "Morning, kiddo." She says. Then she grabs a knife and starts chopping some onions. [[Embrace her.]] [[Nod and head outside.]]

You stand up. Your mind is swimming. You thought Dawn could help you. She's just... too calm. You can't sit here. You grab the rifle and head for the door. "Wait, Lena." Dawn reaches out. You glare at her. "I don't know what you're looking for." She says. "But if it's coddling, I don't have time for it. This is a shit world, and it's tough for all of us. I can help you, but not if you don't want to be helped." You shake your head and leave the armory behind. [[Read until dinner.]] (if: $Ollie is "unvisited")[ [[Go see Ollie on the deck.]] ] (if: $Uza is "unvisited")[ [[Check on Uza in the engine room.]] ]

"I'd love to help out if you have the time." You say. "Then come." Uza holds out a spare pair of blackened gloves and you pull them on tight. "Today we are maintaining the furnace." "Furnace? I thought Wooly ran on sunlight." "Hm, mostly. But we often travel at night, and the sun does not provide enough power to store significantly. You've seen me siphon gasoline from abandoned cars." "Yeah - I always thought that was for emergencies." "It is. Every day is an emergency." "... what do you mean?" You ask. There have been dire moments, certainly, but the old man's never mentioned that the need to move at night came from urgency. "They are closer than Javier lets on. This is why he lets Oliver play with his birds; he needs early detection." "But we haven't run into the Arch for months. If they're so close, why don't they attack?" Uza thinks on this a moment, then turns to the huge machine next to the two of you. The combustion engine glows behind dual thick-handled doors. "The Arch is like the furnace." Uza says. "It hungers eternally, and burns powerfully, but it dwindles without fuel." "You're saying the Arch is out of fuel?" "Far from the source of its power." "Its power... guns?" You posit. "Yes, and..." "Cities?" Uza nods. "And..." "People." "Yes. The citizens it oppresses are the source of its power. Without their support, without the ability to lean on them for intelligence, the Arch is as useless as a mobile base without power." "So they won't attack us." "Because we have a better position. If anything, I believe they will try to infiltrate us." "I'll keep that in mind." You say, ignoring the chill down your spine. "So, uh... what do we have to do to maintain the furnace?" "Oh." Uza chuckles and pulls a heavy lever next to them. The glow in the furnace dies, and Uza gestures for you to open the heavy doors. You grip hard and haul, but Uza has to add their strength before the doors crack open. Then, Uza simply uses their gloves to scoop ash from the opening into a bucket by their feet. You follow suit. "That easy, huh?" "Until something breaks, yes." Uza says. Your lessons with Uza are somehow more difficult and more relaxing than shooting with the old man. [[Read until dinner.]] (if: $Dawn is "unvisited")[ [[Talk to Dawn in the armory.]] ] (if: $Ollie is "unvisited")[ [[Go see Ollie on the deck.]] ] (if: $Self is "unvisited")[ [[Go to be alone with your thoughts.]] ]

"Could use a break from the world, Uza." "Indeed." Uza cocks an eyebrow, but nothing more. "You may sit, if you like." "Thank you." You take a seat near Wooly's humming wall. He rumbles around you, and as you listen closer you can make out more specific sounds: the crunching of the road beneath his treads, the clunking of some old part or another. Uza has this little break corner set up with books and posters from the old world. There's also an old boombox. "Whoa, this is new." You say, fiddling with its dials. "Be careful, you might get a shock." Uza says while scooping some ash out of a nearby furnace. "It isn't working yet." "But you're going to fix it?" You ask. "Yes indeed." Uza grins mischieviously. "What are you going to play on it?" "Whatever I can find." "Okay, but what's your favourite?" "Loud." Uza shrugs. "With some quiet." You mull this over for a moment, and sit back to simply enjoy the hum around you. Clangs and crunches rise all around you. And then, sometimes, just a warm rumble. Loud, with some quiet. You can see why Uza spends so much time down here. [[Read until dinner.]] (if: $Dawn is "unvisited")[ [[Talk to Dawn in the armory.]] ] (if: $Ollie is "unvisited")[ [[Go see Ollie on the deck.]] ] (if: $Self is "unvisited")[ [[Go to be alone with your thoughts.]] ]

"Sublimation, eh?" Uza says. "I can respect that. Turn a negative impulse into a positive one." "You can do that?" You ask. "Assuredly." Uza replies. "I would argue that is most of the adult human experience." "How do you figure?" Uza begins scooping some ash out of a nearby wall-mounted furnace. Several thoughts cross their silent face, until they decide on one to speak. "I have an impulse to be safe. It manifests as fear. I use that fear to propel me forward." "But //how// do you use the fear?" "I look at the feeling. I examine it. I hold it in my hand and say 'that's fear'. It generates energy within me, anxiety. I channel the energy; instead of sitting and feeling fear, I do a task. I do not push the fear from my mind; I use it to move my hands. The engine can be tuned, food can be consumed, and simple movements of the arms and legs can make you stronger." "What do you do if the impulse feels like it's... overwhelming you, I guess? If the energy is too strong to be channeled?" "Energy can always be transformed, given the right process. If your current processes aren't working, try something new." "I suppose that's what I'm doing right now." "Good for you. Your impulses are not you, and they are not forever. They will pass, or they will be transformed. There is simply no other option." "... Thanks, Uza." "You're welcome." You lean against the humming bulkhead. Wooly rumbles around you. It's not peace... but it's something. [[Read until dinner.]] (if: $Dawn is "unvisited")[ [[Talk to Dawn in the armory.]] ] (if: $Ollie is "unvisited")[ [[Go see Ollie on the deck.]] ] (if: $Self is "unvisited")[ [[Go to be alone with your thoughts.]] ]

Dawn's eyes widen - you're not known for your penchant for physical contact. Then she plunges the knife into your back - no, that's still your imagination. You take a deep breath and allow yourself to be open to it. Eventually you can see the knife, in third person, Dawn is stabbing you, maybe you steal it from her and slash her throat - but you don't feel it as much. You tighten your hug, and in reality Dawn responds in kind. She moves a hand up to stroke your head. "Oh, sweetpea." She whispers. You break the hug. "Thank you." You say, and head outside as Wooly pulls to a stop. [[Head outside. ->Nod and head outside.]]

The old man has pulled Wooly to a stop on a narrow two-lane highway, between tall pines. The mountains tower over you like disappointed parents. As you circle your home, the rest of the team files groggily out behind you. The old man has a scoped rifle much like yours, but magazine-fed rather than individually loaded. Uza has a compact submachinegun strapped behind her, while Dawn carries a heavy assault rifle. It's a strange contrast to her soft clothing, but you suppose that contrast is part of what makes her. The mother bear, warrior and matriarch. God, the old man's literature is already starting to get to you. Ollie, the novice, has a handgun strapped to his hip. His hands are full managing his Canaries. He sets up on a nearby fallen tree, his laptop with a little antenna poking out the top. A couple of tapped commands and both drones take to the air. "They should give us an early warning if there's anything out there." Ollie grins. "Unless the Arch is pissed enough to use their cloaking tech." Uza tones sleepily as they haul open one of Wooly's side panels. "Cloaking? Hah!" Ollie scoffs. "No match for the eyes of our new friend, right Lena?" You nod, but something in the brush has caught your eye. "What is it?" The old man asks, following your gaze. "Nothing." You reply, and you mean it - whatever it was has stopped, or it never existed. Nevertheless, something in the back of your head is itching at you to follow. [[Explore the brush.]] [[Stay close to Wooly.]]

You use your rifle to poke through the foliage at the edge of the highway - there's nothing there, but your curiousity pulls you forward. You call out to the group. "I'm just gonna..." Something blurs at the edge of your vision. It's big; human-sized. You leap through the brush to follow. It got a lead on you, but you're faster. You tackle the shape, and together you fall into an open clearing in the trees. A tree snakes across your eyebrow in the process, and that gives the shape an opening to push you off. You roll, and the rifle over your shoulder slams into your ribs. That's a reminder; despite the ache, you pull it up and train it on the man facing you. He seems like he might be relatively young under all that beard. His clothing is ragged. He's reaching for the gun at his belt. It flashes across your vision like a seizure - he's shooting you over and over. You turn the gun up and shoot yourself. No. You're in the clearing. He's reaching for his gun. [[Take no chances. Shoot first.]] [[Lower your gun - at the ready, but non-threatening.]] [[Shoot yourself.]]

It's nothing. You know that. Your mind plays tricks - or it's just an animal. The mist swirls at the edge of your vision, at the edge of the brush. "Need any help, Uza?" "I'm fine, thank you." Uza replies. Then there's nothing to do but pace. You check your rifle once, twice - bullet loaded, safety on. "I'm picking something up!" Ollie says, peering at his screen. "Northwest - there!" Ollie points to the treeline, and a voice comes out of the brush. "Hello." A man calls - he might look young through all that beard. His eyes are narrow, his hands up next to his head. He has a gun at his belt. Dawn's rifle snaps to the man in an instant. "Get the fuck on your knees!" She shouts. "I mean you no harm." The man replies. "Then get down, son." Javier says. His rifle is pointed close, not at. The man sinks to his knees. "My name is Ch-" "Don't tell me your name." Dawn cuts him off. "Tell me why you approached us." "Refuge." Ch says. "I've lived in the woods here for months. There's nowhere safe outside the cities." "Months?" Javier asks. "Just you?" "I had others, but... they're gone." "The Arch?" Ollie asks nervously. Ch nods. "I know I'm imposing. I know you can't trust me. You can take whatever precautions you like, but... just please, take me with you." The old man's eyes narrow. You've seen him do this when he considers what consequence is appropriate for you when you were younger, when you wasted food or went off alone. "I'm sorry, sir." Javier says. "We can't take you with us." Dawn nods and flicks the safety off her weapon, ready for the man's reaction. "Wait!" Ollie shouts. "We can take him on, can't we? Keep him in chains for a week, perhaps? Allow him to prove his loyalty somehow?" "No matter what we do, we cannot trust an outsider." Dawn says. "The Arch could train him to wait months if he has to -" "I am no agent of the Arch!" Ch protests. Dawn continues: "Even if we found his camp, found evidence of him living here, we have no guarantees. He might not even know he's an agent until an activation signal is sent." "We have enough food." Uza nods, though their weapon is at the ready as well. "If he isn't an agent -" "We still can't take that chance." Javier says. "No!" Ollie cries. "Lena, please! What do you think? If we send him back to the forest, he'll die!" All eyes - save Dawn's - turn to you. [["We should take him aboard."]] [["Leave him."]]

You pull the trigger like you've practiced many times before, the man's head disturbingly similar to a tomato can. Blood and bone and brain matter splatter out the back of his head - it's frozen in your mind's eye, even as he falls to the ground in reality. Dawn and Javier push through the brush - they must have been looking for you. They enter, tactical - the barrels of their guns sweep the clearing. Dawn stands overwatch while the old man kneels next to you. The tears come when he touches you, you shatter into his grip. "I know, Lena, sweetie. I know." He says, his voice low. "Get her up, Javier." Dawn calls. "Don't you see -" He starts, and Dawn cuts him off. "I see. And it's for nothing if we don't get back to the others." Javier gets his arms under your knees and around your shoulders and he heaves you into the air. This is worse; you have a perfect view of the dead man's shattered visage. And you wonder: what if it's all for nothing anyway? Javier carries you back to Wooly - Uza is finishing up their repairs. In a few moments you will be back on the road, like nothing ever happened. Oliver runs over to you, his gun drawn. He sneers at you. "Murderer." He puts the gun to your head and pulls the trigger. You hear the vague sounds of the old man and Ollie speaking, but you've shut your eyes and ears against the pain. The old man puts you down on the ramp. Dawn stands next to you, her rifle slung across her chest. She strokes your hair - and grabs a fistful, slams your nose into the bulkhead. You are shivering. It's all coming too fast. The rifle is still in your hands. [[Shoot yourself.]] Is this what life is? ... [[Get back on-board.]]

You carefully point the barrel of your rifle at the ground. The man holds his hand over his holster. "Hey." He says, meeting your eyes. "Hello." You reply. At any moment, one of you could shoot the other. You see that world flash before your eyes a couple times. But you don't shoot. Neither does he. "We gonna be okay?" The man asks. [["I think so."]] [["Depends on you, buddy."]] [["If you give me your gun, yes."]]

"We'll take precautions, keep him chained, get to know his story. If he does anything suspicious, we leave him." You say. You're confident in your plan; you have to believe that there's a way to add someone new to the cause. Neither Dawn nor Javier reply. Instead, they share a look, a nod. Dawn pulls the trigger of her rifle and a three-round burst rips through the man's heart. He falls without a word. "This isn't a democracy, Lena." Javier says. "I will not jeopardize the safety of this group for anything - our work is too important. We may very well be the last free folk in all the world." His words blend into static. You're wondering if this is another one of your mind's tricks - but no matter how many times you blink, the man is still dead. Dawn strips him of his weapon and a few pieces of scavenged fruit. Peaches. Where would you find peaches out here? Ollie is frozen. Uza gets back to work. "Stay alert." The old man says. "Ollie, what's on your feeds?" "No." The excitable Ollie says. "No." He collapses his laptop and whistles - his buzzing drones come back from the trees and settle onto topdeck. Without a word, Ollie walks back up the ramp and retreats from sight. Javier shakes his head and looks to you. "You understand, don't you, Lena?" You simply meet his gaze. The last free folk. Perhaps one more, dead. [[Shoot yourself.]] Is this all that living is? ... [[Get back on-board.]]

"We can't risk it." You say. "He's made it this long in the woods." "I agree with one part of that." Dawn says. Dawn pulls the trigger of her rifle and a three-round burst rips through the man's heart. He falls without a word. "I said - I said let him go!" You stammer. "I'm sorry, Lena." Dawn says. "It's necessary." Javier says. "Even if he's wasn't Arch, he could eventually be found and give away information on our whereabouts. We cannot jeopardize the safety of this group for anything - our work is too important. We may very well be the last free folk in all the world." His words blend into static. You're wondering if this is another one of your mind's tricks - but no matter how many times you blink, the man is still dead. Dawn strips him of his weapon and a few pieces of scavenged fruit. Peaches. Where would you find peaches out here? Ollie is frozen. Uza gets back to work. "Stay alert." The old man says. "Ollie, what's on your feeds?" "No." The excitable Ollie says. "No." He collapses his laptop and whistles - his buzzing drones come back from the trees and settle onto topdeck. Without a word, Ollie walks back up the ramp and retreats from sight. Javier shakes his head and looks to you. "You understand, don't you, Lena?" You simply meet his gaze. The last free folk. Perhaps one more, dead. [[Shoot yourself.]] Is this all that living is? ... [[Get back on-board.]]

Uza finishes Wooly's maintainence. The group packs up. You leave the woods behind. It's hard to look at Javier and Dawn the same way. You've seen them do a lot in your name, but nothing like this. Not that you were aware of, anyway. Is this what it means to accept responsibility? Do you grow to accept the necessity of your elders' actions? On one side, the regime from which you escaped. On the other, violence and fear. You don't know what it means. But you know what your tools are, you know their limits. You can decide to accept it, or to try and change it. But you can't do either if you're dead.

"We both seem like reasonable folks." You say. "I think we can work this out." "Agreed." The man takes his hand away from the gun at his side and keeps his hands clearly visible. "So, uh..." He gestures to the trees. "You got a group out there?" [["Why do you ask?"]] [["A few people, yeah."]] [["No, it's just me."]]

"No sudden moves, okay?" You say. "Then no one gets hurt." "Yeah, sure thing." The man takes his hand away from the gun at his side and keeps his hands clearly visible. "So, uh..." He gestures to the trees. "You got a group out there?" [["Why do you ask?"]] [["A few people, yeah."]] [["No, it's just me."]]

"Hand it over." You prompt him. His forehead creases at the request. "I don't think I can do that. But I'll tell you what..." The man takes his hand away from the gun at his side and keeps his hands clearly visible. "There. You don't have to worry - pretty sure you could shoot me dead before I get halfway to drawin' on you." You nod. You could. It flashes in front of your eyes for a moment, and you remind yourself to keep your finger off the trigger. "So, uh..." He gestures to the trees. "You got a group out there?" [["Why do you ask?"]] [["A few people, yeah."]] [["No, it's just me."]]

"You planning on joining a group?" "Maybe." The man replies. "If they're good people." "So you don't have a group of your own." You're just thinking out loud, but the man's eyes twitch when you say it. He takes a deep breath. "Yeah." He says. "I'm alone. I've been out here for months, hiding from the Arch." "Have you seen any?" You ask. "A couple close calls, but nothing I couldn't handle. I - I don't want to impose, but I wouldn't be a freeloader. Would you... would you take me on?" [[Trust the man, introduce him to your group.]] [[Kill him - you can't take the risk.]] [[Ask to go your separate ways.]]

"We've got a few folks. A couple former military, a gearhead, an adorable nerd. You looking to join up?" "Maybe." The man replies. "If they're good people." "So you don't have a group of your own." You're just thinking out loud, but the man's eyes twitch when you say it. He takes a deep breath. "Yeah." He says. "I'm alone. I've been out here for months, hiding from the Arch." "Have you seen any?" You ask. "A couple close calls, but nothing I couldn't handle. I - I don't want to impose, but I wouldn't be a freeloader. Would you... would you take me on?" [[Trust the man, introduce him to your group.]] [[Kill him - you can't take the risk.]] [[Ask to go your separate ways.]]

"Just me out here." You lie. "Foraging. You got a group?" "No, it's just me. I've been out here ducking the Arch for months. You hear the rumbling sound come through this morning? I've been tracking it, but I'm scared to go too close. "Yeah, me too." You say. "It seems like some kind of mobile command centre." The man guesses correctly. But one of those wouldn't be out here without a whole mess of Arch around it, which means... it could be stolen." "We could... we could check it out together, if you want. Or go our separate ways." "That's up to you, I think. I'd go with you." [[Trust the man, introduce him to your group.]] [[Kill him - you can't take the risk.]] [[Ask to go your separate ways.]]

"All right, bud." You sigh. "Come with me." You lead the man back through the brush - he seems nervous, but not exactly suspicious. "What exactly am I getting into?" He asks. "Let's find out." You respond. "I'm picking something up!" You hear Ollie say from the other side of the treeline. "Northwest - there!" You emerge first and keep the man in your peripheral vision - Dawn's rifle snaps to the man before you can say a word. "Hello." The man says. "Get the fuck on your knees!" She shouts. "Lena, what the fuck are you doing?" "I mean you no harm." The man replies. "Then get down, son." Javier says. His rifle is pointed close, not at. "He seemed trustworthy." You say. "I thought I'd let you figure it out." The man sinks to his knees. "My name is Ch-" "Don't tell me your name." Dawn cuts him off. "Tell me why you approached us." "Refuge." Ch says. "I've lived in the woods here for months. There's nowhere safe outside the cities." "Months?" Javier asks. "Just you?" "I had others, but... they're gone." "The Arch?" Ollie asks nervously. Ch nods. "I know I'm imposing. I know you can't trust me. You can take whatever precautions you like, but... just please, take me with you." The old man's eyes narrow. You've seen him do this when he considers what consequence is appropriate for you when you were younger, when you wasted food or went off alone. "I'm sorry, sir." Javier says. "We can't take you with us." Dawn nods and flicks the safety off her weapon, ready for the man's reaction. "Wait!" Ollie shouts. "We can take him on, can't we? Keep him in chains for a week, perhaps? Allow him to prove his loyalty somehow?" "No matter what we do, we cannot trust an outsider." Dawn says. "The Arch could train him to wait months if he has to -" "I am no agent of the Arch!" Ch protests. Dawn continues: "Even if we found his camp, found evidence of him living here, we have no guarantees. He might not even know he's an agent until an activation signal is sent." "We have enough food." Uza nods, though their weapon is at the ready as well. "If he isn't an agent -" "We still can't take that chance." Javier says. "No!" Ollie cries. "Lena, please! What do you think? If we send him back to the forest, he'll die!" All eyes - save Dawn's - turn to you. [["We should take him aboard."]] [["Leave him."]]

"I'm sorry, buddy." You say. The man's eyes widen in shocked recognition. He goes for his gun again. You pull the trigger like you've practiced many times before, the man's head disturbingly similar to a tomato can. Blood and bone and brain matter splatter out the back of his head - it's frozen in your mind's eye, even as he falls to the ground. Dawn and Javier push through the brush - they must have been looking for you. They enter, tactical - the barrels of their guns sweep the clearing. Dawn stands overwatch while the old man kneels next to you. The tears come when he touches you, you shatter into his grip. "I know, Lena, sweetie. I know." He says, his voice low. "Get her up, Javier." Dawn calls. "Don't you see -" He starts, and Dawn cuts him off. "I see. And it's for nothing if we don't get back to the others." Javier gets his arms under your knees and around your shoulders and he heaves you into the air. This is worse; you have a perfect view of the dead man's shattered visage. And you wonder: what if it's all for nothing anyway? Javier carries you back to Wooly - Uza is finishing up their repairs. In a few moments you will be back on the road, like nothing ever happened. Oliver runs over to you, his gun drawn. He sneers at you. "Murderer." He puts the gun to your head and pulls the trigger. You hear the vague sounds of the old man and Ollie speaking, but you've shut your eyes and ears against the pain. The old man puts you down on the ramp. Dawn stands next to you, her rifle slung across her chest. She strokes your hair - and grabs a fistful, slams your nose into the bulkhead. You are shivering. It's all coming too fast. The rifle is still in your hands. [[Shoot yourself.]] Is this what life is? ... [[Get back on-board.]]

"I don't think I can trust you, man." You say. He looks heartbroken. "I, uh... I understand." He says. "How do you want to play this?" "You walk that way. I go this way. If you want to face me you can - I'm sure as hell gonna face you." The man nods. "It was nice to meet you. And, uh, by the way - I'm Chetwind. Maybe we'll run into each other some day." "Chetwind. Honestly, buddy - I hope not." You step backwards into the brush. You watch him walk away - he turns his back. And then he's gone. You turn back towards Wooly - and find the barrel of Dawn's assault rifle in your face. "Jesus, kiddo!" Dawn breathes as she lowers it. "You scared me half-dead. You okay?" "I'm fine." You say. "There's nothing out here. We should get back." Dawn slings an arm around your shoulder. "Well, good to hear it. And I'm glad you're safe, sweetheart." You exhale. You're not sure how the group would have reacted to the man you found, and you're not sure how they would have reacted to him. It's possible you just left a friend behind... or it's possible you just saved his life. You know your tools. You know your companions. You're not sure if you made the best choice, but at least no one had to suffer. That's what you're here for. To make the world better - and you can't do that if you're dead.