This is bad. This is really bad. Right now, I'm surrounded by a group of cutthroats who intend to do real damage to me. They've fashioned all sorts of weapons from the junk that filled this place. There are simple ones like baseball bats and planks with nails sticking out of them. Then, there are the more creative ones, like the water gun that spits out acid. I extend my arm in an effort to cover the little boy who has taken refuge behind me as we slowly walk back into a wall of trash. How did this happen?
[8 Hours Prior]
It's been a little over a week since I arrived in the "Smoky Mountains". During that time, I managed to build a simple tent for myself. A 14 feet by 9 feet structure made out of metal poles and tarps that I found lying around. For insulation, I installed layers of thick cloth to line my roof and walls. The floor is also made with the same combination so it's safe to say that I'll stay dry for the most part.
I rub my weary eyes as sunlight peers into the little window I made out of clear plastic. It's another day at the junk yard. I exit my little home and welcome the stench of burning plastic and coffee in the morning.
"Ey there Devon. Good thing you woke up," a child around 10 years old welcomes me with a bright toothy smile. Well at least what's left of it. Hunched over beside him is an older man around 40 years old fanning his charcoal stove. Both of them are wearing tattered clothes but they look healthier than the other guys that hang out around here.
"Hey, there lad," he looks up at me. "Got a good night sleep in ya?"
I groan and press my aching muscles. "Sleeping without a bed isn't getting any better George."
He chuckles and hands me a cup of hot coffee.
The older man's name is George while the little boy's is Samuel's. I met them during my first morning in this place. Genius that I was, I decided that a flimsy shelter was good enough to ward the elements. Little did I know that the gusts of freezing wind and the humid air near the sea could soak a man in his sleep. These two found me shivering in the cold and offered me a hot bath from one of their firewood-heated metal drums and a cup of coffee.
They also taught me all there is to know about this place. Apparently, the junkyard is divided into five factions: Ravens, Demons, Angels, Lords, and Wanderers. Each faction has a territory. The Ravens and Demons are allies that settled themselves in the North of the junkyard while the Angels and Lords settled in the South. In between them are the neutral Wanderers that George and Samuel are a part of. They scavenge the "No-Man's Land" that naturally formed when the North and the South split. George told me that a literal war was waged to form the current territories. How they did such a thing without making it to the news is beyond me. He then added that there was a ceasefire for some time and the groups left each other alone, but ever since the Role-player's DLC was released, skirmishes have been happening once in a while. I know since I saw 2 fights happen since I got here; both happened in Fractal and in real life or "IRL" as George taught me. I asked Sher how Fractal fights work but she's been silent ever since she told me she was gonna take a nap. Has she really been sleeping all this time?
"Thanks for the coffee," I say as I sit down on a makeshift plastic chair.
"Oh, please. Yer the reason we got this coffee in the first place man," George replies and scoops himself a cup for himself.
"That's right!" Samuel chimes in. "Fer a stupid guy who almost froze to death, you have good luck at finding expensive trash."
I tussle his greasy black hair.
On top of trying to find the parts that Sher's blueprint requires, I had to gather enough trash to sell to the recycling depot to get enough ration packs to survive. Ration packs are what the government sold to the poorest of the poor. Of course, the entrepreneurs of Central saw this as an opportunity to access an untapped market and made various brands that vary in quality. What George is using right now is the medium quality rations that includes coffee. These cost about $20 a pop and could feed a single person for an entire day. We've been helping each other out these past few days and so far, we've making enough money to afford little luxuries like this.
"When are ye gonna finish 'er?" George points at the 3 meter tower of wires, chips, and mother-boards that rests inside a cage beside my tent.
I shrug. "I'm almost there. If I could find the parts, I'll probably be able to finish today."
George pats me on the shoulder. "I'm sure ye'll find it," he says and take a swig of his coffee.
"Devon, Devon! Can I come with ya?" Samuel excitedly requests while pulling at my shirt.
"Sure, man just don't wander off on your own," I reply and toss a piece of dried jerky in my mouth.
"What do you need to finish what yer building?"
I think for a bit before replying, "I can find the odds and ends like wires easily. What I REALLY need is a good enough power source to run the darn thing."
"Just leave it to me," he says while beating his chest proudly. Then, he cocks is head, "What's that look like?"
After explaining to Samuel what I'm looking for, we pack up everything we need for the day. Snacks, first aid kit, water, and an extra large backpack to carry valuable trash. I held hope the entire time we were rifling through heaps of trash, but the day goes on as I expected. While the Kaleidoscope helped with finding good stuff to sell and simple materials for what I'm building, it never found the power source that I need. I'm beginning to think that it's just not in "No-man's Land". Should I go to the South? They're more friendly than the North but if I get involved with them, I might get roped into their turf wars. Damn it! If only the depots aren't so stingy with their power, I could finally run this thing today. As I contemplate, I notice that it's quiet. Too quiet in fact. That's when I realize that Samuel's not with me.
"Samuel!" I yell and the junkyard echoes my call. "Samuel! Where are you?!"
I look about in a cold sweat. The sun is about to set and I lost the child I was supposed to be in charge of. Sure, Samuel's been around the junkyard enough to know how to avoid danger but I'm still responsible for his safety. I search every nook and cranny of the vicinity but I can't find any sign of him. My heart is pounding and my stomach knots. I'm beginning to feel the panic that any parent who lost their child in a mall feels.
"Shit," I mutter to myself.
As I resolve myself to get back to camp and ask George for help, a tiny voice calls out from one of the junk piles. "Ey Devon! Over here!"
I turn and see Samuel on one of the hills waving at me with a big smile on his face. I run towards him as he slides down to meet me.
"Samuel! Didn't I tell you to stick with me?" I scold him immediately.
He looks at me annoyedly. "Ehhh? But ye weren't findin' nothin' so I thought I'd try my luck somewhere else."
I sigh. "I'm responsible for you kiddo. What would I tell George if something happens to you?"
He dismisses me with a wave of his hand. "Nah, I'm sure ye'll change your mind if ye get a look at this!" he announces and presents a medium sized box that glows a bluish hue ever so slightly.
My eyes go wide. "Is that-?"
"Yep!" he says and puffs up his chest. "The power source ye need."
As I am about to fawn over the achievements of this little child, I catch myself in an effort to maintain a semblance of being in charge. "Ahem, even so, you can't leave my side. Got that?"
"Yeah, yeah," he sighs.
This kid's just plain stubborn. He got his independence when he's still this young so what did I even expect?
I let out a sigh and pat him on the back. "I'm still mad but I'm also thankful."
He gleams at me and I flash a smile back. I then kneel down to inspect the box on all sides. From the looks of it, it seems to be a power source used by refrigeration trucks to transport perishable food from the "Outside" to the Metropolis and vice-versa. Wait, refrigeration?
"Samuel? Where did you ge-"
"AWOLOLOLOLOLO!!!"
Before I could finish my sentence, the air is filled by echoes from multiple voices. The cries seem to be coming from all directions and are beginning to get closer.
+
[Warning: Multiple Hostile Life Forms Detected]
[Fight or Flight Protocols Activated]
[Waiting For Voice Command]
[Fight or Flight?]
+
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit, shit, shit.
"Flight! Flight! Samuel we need to run!" I yell as I hurriedly stuff the power source into my backpack. The damn thing weighs as much as a gallon of water but the adrenaline coursing through my veins is enough to make me run with it.
+
[Flight Choice Activated]
[Analyzing Surroundings For An Escape Path]
+
As Samuel and I run as far as our legs could take us, the Kaleidoscope is pinging multiple points of interest and giving me a percentage of a successful escape.
+
[Chance of Escape: 10%]
[Follow Instructions To Increase Escape Chance]
+
I look and see that the Kaleidoscope has highlighted a piece of wood sticking out of one of the hills. Of course, following its instructions, I immediately kick it as hard as I can.
*Rumble*
The hill that the wood was in suddenly shifts and moments later, an avalanche of junk rushes onto the pathways behind me. I could hear multiple shouts in between heavy breaths as the rumbling sound of the avalanche dissipates. I look back to check my pursuers only to see that some of them expertly avoided the collapse and are now gliding across the junk heaps with their hover boards.
+
[Chance of Escape: 15%]
+
Heh, no kidding. I'm even surprised it rose by five percent since the ones chasing me are the notorious Ravens. Their black and spiky outfits make them stand out among the other factions. Namely, they're the only ones who are shamelessness enough to dress like the villains in a bad post-apocalyptic movie. But even though their fashion sense is a bit outlandish, their brutality isn't. In fact, I think it's because they play so much into the role that any form of moral limitations have been stripped from them.
"Stop running, hermano and just let us break your legs!" shouts one of the guys who are gaining on me.
Ignoring their taunts, I continue to run as fast as I could. This chase goes on for tens of minutes and my lungs feel like they're on fire. During the entire time, I am following the Kaleidoscope's instructions: taking certain pathways, collapsing certain hills, and even throwing obstacles that manage to wipe out some of them. Eventually though, my body reaches its limits and Samuel isn't fairing any better.
+
[Chances of Escape: 45%]
+
I chuckle weakly. I didn't even get up to halfway and now, we're surrounded by dozens of enemies while our back is against a wall of trash.
"Samuel," I whisper. "On my signal, you need to run ok?"
Samuel looks up at me with concern and fear. "But ... what about you?"
I pat his head. "I'll be fine," I reassure him with a smile and show him a lead pipe I've managed to snatch earlier.
"Oi, oi, whatchu whispering about huh?" a bald young man in full leather outfit approaches us with the nastiest black smile. He points a crowbar at us and continues, "If you jus' dropped what you've stolen, we would've just broken a rib or two." He then licks the crowbar as his eyes shine with bloodlust. "Now, we'll kill ya!"
"YEAAAAAAHHH" the crowd surrounding us erupts in cheer.
"NO ONE MESSES WITH THE RAVENS AND LIVES!!" the man turns his back on us to rile up the crowd.
"YEAAAAAHHHHHHH!" they roar even louder.
"Now!" I whisper.
At once, Samuel scurries off to safety while I lunge at the guy whose back is wide open.
+
[Fight Protocols Initiated]
[Follow Instructions to Eliminate the Opponent as Efficiently as Possible]
+
The crowd gasps and shouts to warn their leader of my approach. However, as he is about to turn, I already began to twist my body to drive the lead pipe through the Kaleidoscope's target: the back of his head. It is too late. The motion is unstoppable and his skull will meet its inevitable demise. Suddenly, time slows down to almost a halt as series of unwanted memories begin to flash like a collage in my mind.
"To kill is to survive Devon," a man's voice reverberates in my ears.
"He had it coming. Devon, believe me," a desperate crying voice of a woman rings in my ears.
Then, I see the leader's face. What once was a face filled with malice and bloodlust is now filled with dread: raw, pure, dread. My heart pounds and I could hear blood rush through my eardrums. Am I ... excited? No, I wish time would go forward already. To get this over with. Then, as if to answer my wish, my senses return to the present and I close my eyes to brace myself for impact. But ... it never came. I slowly open my eyes and in front of me is a disheveled older man wearing a long coat and a fedora. He stopped my swing with his arm and seems to be unfazed by it.
"Samantha!" he shouts while his stoic, blue eyes lock with mine.
Suddenly, a blur of blue shifts in the corner of my eye and the rhythmic rounds of a Gatling gun pierces the almost dark evening air. As much as I am curious to know who's sending the Ravens packing with such a massive weapon, I can't pry my eyes away from the detective who interrogated me a week prior.
I gulp.
"Why don't we have a chat, Mr. Devon Miller?"