You glance up to see a quartet of rifles pointed in your direction, and you can't help but feel a sense of scathing disappointment in yourself. It seems you've been so engrossed in scavenging and looting that you hardly even bothered to Scan for predators.
If you can get out of this, you're sure that you won't make that same mistake again.
"Raise your hands!" says one of the four people, which you immediately comply with.
The four of them don't look particularly aggressive, and seem just like any normal folk. In fact, they remind you of the Watch back at the Settlement. Although their rifles seem to be well-maintained, they're all clearly different makes and models. Not only that, but whatever armor they're wearing is relatively bare-bones, such as padded sportswear and helmets.
You perform a surreptitious Scan just to get a sense of their mental states and find that none hold any malicious intent towards you. In fact, they seem more fearful and anxious than anything else. One of them in particular appears to carry quite a lot of anger, so you keep your eye on him as much as possible.
The last thing you want is for him to freak out and unload on you.
"What're you doing here?" asks the person who has been commanding you.
This person appears to be the oldest of the group, with graying hair and wrinkles to match. You guess he's about 50, and clearly has some experience under his belt. What's more, you notice that he's holding his rifle in a similar way to how your Dad holds his rifle - which must mean that this person has had some military training.
Makes sense why he would be the one leading these people.
"Just passing through," you answer. "Not meaning any harm to anyone."
The angry one of the bunch scoffs audibly, as though in disbelief.
"Passin' through?" he says. "More like stealing what you can from this here shop!"
"Why, does this store belong to you?" you retort. "Highly doubt it belongs to anyone these days. I mean, if someone did, they would've pulled all their stuff out way long ago, right?"
"That don't matter, smartass!"
The angry one raises his rifle at you, then jams it forward threateningly as though he's going to fire it. In response, you exude a low-level Surge to help calm everyone down. Although it works to some degree, and their anxieties ebb slightly, the angry one hardly budges.
Whatever anger issues he has is clearly deep-seated.
"Calm down, Carl," says the leader of the group.
He puts his hand on Carl's rifle and lowers it for him. The rest follow suit soon afterwards. You lower your hands as well, once you're sure it's okay for you to do.
"Sorry 'bout that," says the group leader. "Never know who you can trust around here."
"Don't sweat it," you reply. "Better to be safe than sorry these days, so I don't blame any of you."
"Glad you're reasonable."
"I try to be. So, I take it you all live here?"
You gesture at the town around you, but you realize that can't possibly be right. You didn't sense anyone the first time you walked into town, and so these people must have come from somewhere else. Unless of course, they're just now coming home.
"No, not really," says one of the people. "We live a bit northwest of here. We're just kinda patrolling right now."
"Oh, sure, tell the dang stranger everything about us, why don't you?" Carl blurts out. "How do we know we can trust 'em?"
You're actually with Carl on this, and he definitely has a point. Trusting others in a world like this is kind of a luxury. If you didn't have any powers at all, you'd have no idea if you could trust them, either.
If you even got a sense that these people are out to kill you, you would have gone all out with a truly debilitating Surge, or a lethal Interrupt. You're relatively certain that you could easily cripple these people with a thought.
Thankfully, you don't have to test that fact at all.
"Tricky thing, aint it," says the group leader. "Trust, that is. It's kind of an exchange, isn't it? Gotta give trust in order to gain it. Let's start things out the right way, maybe get a little more trust going - what's your name, stranger?"
You open your mouth to tell them, but realize that you don't actually want to. It goes a bit beyond trust to give someone your real name, at least the way you see things. All kinds of crazy powers exist, and who knows what people could do with your name…
Plus, your name doesn't really mean much in this broken world. Whoever you were before all this happened is long gone, and all that's left is you.
And who you are is a tourist, a vagabond, a drifter.
"I'm no-one," you say with a sigh. "Just traveling so I can find my place in the world, if such a place actually exists anyway."
"Can't say I understand, but I can respect that," says the group leader. "How 'bout we call you Nomad, then? Got a nice ring to it. You've already met Carl. That's Janet. Next to her is Steve. I'm Frank."
"Nice meeting you all, all things considered."
Frank chuckles lightly as he slings his rifle over his shoulder.
"You headed anywhere in particular, Nomad?" he asks.
"Westward," you reply. "Trying to find people and purpose. I was following the I-80 westbound, but decided to stop here for some supplies. And now that I'm thinking about it, I need water badly. Happy to trade with you all if you have any."
"We've only got our patrol kits with us," says Steve. "I don't think we're allowed to trade that, are we?"
Frank nods his head to confirm their inability to trade, then turns back towards you.
"If you want, we can lead you back to our township," he says. "We've got a trading post set up there that you can capitalize on. As long as you behave yourself, anyway. If you don't, we'd be forced to shoot 'cha."
"Sounds fair," you say. "Lead on, I guess."
"Well, we've gotta finish our rounds first. But you're more than welcome to join us. You'll have to stay out of our way in case we run into anything, though."
"I'm not exactly helpless, and I could maybe pitch in if things get to that point."
You open up your poncho to reveal the pistol strapped to your thigh, which Frank nods at in acknowledgement.
Of course, you also have your psionic powers at your disposal, and could make their lives infinitely easier. You could literally do another Scan to confirm or deny if anything's out here that could be a threat to them, and that would be that.
In fact, you do just that and do yet another Scan of the township around you. Besides all of you, there aren't any other people out here. Noir is off on her hunt, though many of the critters in your vicinity have fled thanks to how noisy you've all been.
You say none of this, though. Simply, you aren't sure if having powers is something you want to share just yet. You have no idea how they'd react to that kind of news, after all.
The quartet then gets back to their patrol with you in tow. Like the Watch used to back in the city, they go down street by street and check them dutifully. Sometimes they'll go into a house or a shop to do a bit of scavenging - usually for various sundries. Toilet paper and clean clothing and what have you.
They pick through what few things can be found, and stow them away in their packs. You note that they don't fill their bags to the brim with things, and only take one or two items at a time. Even if there's a whole host more to take from.
Almost as though they're being quite sparing in their scavenging. You're not quite sure why they're doing this, but you don't exactly ask why. You simply leave them to their proclivities.
All the while, you all chat genially among yourselves, mostly in an effort to get to know you better. You find these people to be decent enough, and certainly trustworthy enough. Frank is a former member of the military, as you guessed. But he left the service long ago to be a homesteader. Janet had always been a safety inspector for the area, specifically for the buildings and structures. Steve was a humble grocer who has since turned his skills to farming.
They tell you that everyone puts in time to patrol, no matter what their duties are in this new life. Everyone's trained to shoot with rifles, and share the burden of protecting everyone else. Basically, no matter who they are and what they do for a 'living', they all equally do their best to keep everyone safe through armed resistance.
Through your chats, they tell you that they've certainly had their share of bandit gangs and wild critters such as the random, rare Crag. Though they mostly deal with boars more often than not.
All in all, they're just regular folks trying to make it in a hostile world as best they can. They seem to have the usual worries that most survivors have - food, water, clothing, shelter, a future…
Well, except for Angry Carl. He seems to keep to himself, stewing in his simmering anger. His thoughts seem to swirl around certain words and phrases he has heard over and over again. He seems to think of them cyclically, similar to how your mind works.
But instead of refining the thoughts until they're more coherent and meaningful, they seem to echo over and over, unchanging.
You can't exactly tell what the words and phrases are, or mean. Some part of you recognizes that he's remembering parts of a show or a broadcast, and replaying them in his mind. But they aren't congruous, and come at him like fragments of an entire conversation.
Part of you thinks that if Carl had become psionic, he might have turned into a Crazed.
You wonder how he had gotten like that, if the apocalypse changed something in him. But then again he might have always been like that from the get-go. A part of you can't help but think that if you were Frank, you would never take Carl with you on a single patrol. He's more of a liability than a boon, that's for sure.
Anyone with an itchy trigger finger isn't really suited to protect others, at least in your opinion.
As you all walk and chat, you pull out one of your meat skewers and munch away at the lukewarm meat. You wonder if this is a bad idea, if the meat has grown bacteria or parasites in the meantime. But it's too late for that now, and you polish off one of the chunks hungrily.
"What's that?" asks Janet.
You wipe your mouth and chew faster, just so you can reply.
"Ah, just some opossum," you say. "Wanna try?"
You offer her one of your skewers, but she refuses.
"I can't take your food," she says. "That'd be rude of me."
"You ever eat this stuff?" you ask. "I only just started learning to hunt, so I don't know if there's anything better to catch."
"Opossum's alright," says Frank. "Definitely good eating in 'em, even if they're rank and rowdy little bastards. You'll definitely find plenty of 'em out here, so ain't no small loss to hunt 'em."
"What do you all usually eat?"
"Nothing too fancy. We got plenty of wild deer and hogs in these parts, so we're rich in venison and pork… We got chickens, too, but we got them mostly for their eggs. Got a couple plots growing corn and green beans and such, too."
The more he speaks about their township's food setup, the more you find yourself jealous of it. Of course you'd like to have a food source that's reliable and secure, so your stomach practically grumbles in complaint.
It's only a couple of hours past midnight by the time the patrol finishes its duties and returns to home base, with you in tow. Slinking behind all of you, perhaps a half dozen meters back and from the shadows, Noir follows along.
Though these people seem mostly trustworthy, the both of you decide that it's better to hide her existence from them for now. Particularly the fact that she's psionic, as well as your traveling companion.
Slivers of the future flash in your mind as your Foresight very feebly attempts to guide you, but at least it's enough to help you make your decision easier to make. And they tell you that remaining low-key is the best path forward.
All of you follow the road northwest, at least until it splits sharply northwards. And it's there at that northern split where the next township resides - the one you were planning to search ealier. Though you'll have to drop the scavenging portion of the plan.
You immediately note that this place doesn't have any kind of defenses at all. No barriers, no street blockages, no nothing. There's not much security, except for a half dozen pairs of people patrolling at all times.
This perhaps could be reasonable, considering where they are. They certainly don't have to deal with everything that the Watch had to, such as daily Crazed attacks or Crag incursions.
And this town is just slightly larger than the last. According to the sign welcoming you in, it had a population of 207 before the world had ended. This place is tiny to you, perhaps a fraction of a block back in the city.
But in this day and age, everything's the same and everyone's in ruins.
A quick pulse of your Scan reveals perhaps about a quarter of that remaining now, not including the guards. Most of them are clustered in an area in the center of town, sleeping rather soundly. Notably, you're able to pick out two or three psions from the group as well.
Of course, you're unable to tell just how strong their psionic energies are - right now they're moving and flowing to the beat of their dreams. Once they're awake, they'll definitely know you're here. There's no hiding from other psions - but you can tamp down your energies and mask them.
By capping yourself temporarily, you could give off the impression that you're far less capable than you really are. Not like you have anything to hide - you'd simply rather avoid calling attention to yourself and fly low.
Especially if Carl is anywhere near you.
You don't even have to ask Noir to follow suit - you sense her presence diminish vastly as she too goes into stealth mode. Thankfully, your Network keeps you two connected.
Other than the people, the buildings around you seem mostly fine. There's a few here that have been destroyed by crystalline spikes, just like in the previous township. Most buildings have been abandoned or looted, with every bit of resource drawn closer towards the center.
The streets are also rather overgrown with weeds peeking out from cracked cobble and concrete. Thick lengths of ivy have certainly burst their way through the ground and up numerous building facades. Some have been cut into, if only to get at the entrance behind.
There are zero street lights - for traffic or otherwise. At least, not the electric kind you're used to seeing. Street corners are littered with all kinds of the usual signs, from stops to cautions and everything in between. You assume they were enough to deal with traffic back in the day. You can't even imagine there being traffic here.
There are also street lamps, but you're certain none of them are electric. The fact that they're on, glowing softly, and flickering lightly tells you that they're gas powered. You seriously didn't think these existed any longer, but here they are proving you wrong.
Of course, not all of them are on - only the ones closest to the Town Square have been activated. As a whole, they emit a soft glow leading you and your party towards the center.
All in all, the town seems quaint and quiet just like the last one. It must have been idyllic to live in before the world stopped. Or hey, it's very likely still idyllic to live in even now. Why else would there still be so many living here, right?
"Got a nice place out here," you say.
"We try and do well for ourselves," Frank replies.
"You don't get attacked much do you? 'Coz we did where I came from."
"You said the City, right?" asks Janet. "We do get the occasional visitors from the city. Don't usually end well, though."
She makes quotes in the air with her fingers as she says 'visitors'. The forefront of her mind is filled with images of men wearing cheap fatigues and sports pads. Although they're shabbily dressed, they are lightly armored. In her imagination, they also have large weapons - guns and swords and axes.
"Yeah, we sometimes get gangers at our doorstep," Frank adds. "They say they're from the city, but I'm not so sure."
"Gangers?" you ask. "What, like street rats or something?"
The image that Frank conjures up is similar to Janet's, except their weapons are actually more reasonable - bats and makeshift clubs and machetes and so on. The occasional rifle or pistol.
Both their memories are relatively different from each other, but you assume the truth is somewhere in between. Together, they remind you of those people testing those frequencies on those Crags in the mall.
"Wait, I think I know who you're talking about," you continue, answering your own question. "And yeah, they're not from the city, but somewhere close to it."
"City or not don't matter anyway," interjects Carl. "They tried to get at us, so we shot 'em in return to get 'em outta our town. Keep coming back by anyhow."
"And we'll keep downing 'em to show 'em we mean business," says Frank.
"You kill them?" you ask. "Doesn't that make a mess?"
"Only one or two, just enough to get 'em to stop getting closer," Frank tells you. "Usually more than enough every time. They usually run off with their dead, back to wherever they came from. Best for everyone involved."
"What do they even want?"
"Who even damn cares?" interjects Carl.
"First time they demanded half the township's food," says Janet. "Surrounded them with all our guards, then threw 'em out right after. I don't think they'd ever seen so many guns before, they were all wide-eyed."
"What about Crazed?" you ask.
"A what now?" Steve butts in.
"Crazed. Uh. A wild psionic that kills people using their powers. They're uh, a bit like a rabid dog."
"Nothin' like that," Frank answers. "At least not yet. I'd heard of 'em at least. Random trader here and there would talk about them, sometimes. Heard they're a real problem in the cities."
"That's good, you wouldn't wanna deal with them," you say.
"You're right, I don't. But that's what Joel and Trish are for. Well, Joel anyway. He's the Telekinetic I think it's called. Trish just does card readings and other horseshit. But she can almost usually tell when someone's gonna attack. Anyway, it's them two that's tasked with dealing with things like that. If it ever comes up."
The whole group eventually comes to Town Square, which is like most of the rest of the town itself. The streets are the most beautifully cobbled here, and all converge into a large circle at the very center of the Square. There's a fountain in the middle of it all, though it clearly hasn't run in years.
Numerous shops line both the east and west sides of the square, most of which are for various sundries and groceries. There's a tool shop, a bookstore, and a bakery all in a row. Plenty others, too, but you're not exactly all that interested in them.
Houses line the southern edge, where you emerge from. In fact, almost every building between the entrance to now has been housing. Only now, they're actually occupied.
On the northern side of the Square sits a rather majestic Town Hall. Not only is it the largest building around, but also the most kept and most maintained. Its front is supported and decorated by four white pillars, which adds significantly to the stately atmosphere.
You don't particularly feel overawed by such a building, but you can sense its presence affect the people around you. Frank, Carl, Janet, Steve - all seem to have their fatigue lift slightly, along with their worries. The very sight of it lightens them.
All of you stop at the bottom of the steps, as though to regroup one final time. Frank in particular turns to the other three with a deeply thankful look on his face.
"Great work tonight, all of you," he tells them. "Make sure to register whatever scavenge with Miss Kate's ledger, or we're all in trouble in the morning. Afterwards, no need to find me for a check out. Just tag your time and get some rest."
Everyone congratulates each other for a good patrol, then they head up into Town Hall. They even greet you good night before they part ways. Well, not Carl. He gives you the side eye before heading off.
Frank then leads you to the northeastern corner of the Square, towards what looks to be a rather cozy two-story lodge.
It honestly looks like one of the other houses at the southern end of town, except somewhat larger. Practically a mansion in comparison. But instead of a grand entrance into a larger home, there's a rather large and comfortable reception area.
There's a large leather couch in the center, with a number of single seats facing and flanking it. All face towards the center, where a coffee table sits.
Off to the side, just to the left of the entrance is a reception desk, though no-one's exactly manning it.
Most surfaces are relatively dusty, though some have been disturbed. You imagine someone had wiped them as though to use that section of table or couch for whatever they needed to. The far corners certainly have dust piled up, though where you're walking now seems relatively well-worn.
"Any visitors we get usually stay here," says Frank. "Traders and Nomads, mostly. Certainly a nice luxury for someone like yourself, no doubt."
"Definitely been a while since I've laid my head on an actual pillow, if that's what you mean," you reply.
"Yeah, I'd say that counts."
Frank shows you to your room - it's on the first floor and closest to the entrance. The door to it isn't exactly locked, and he just opens it up unimpeded.
"Can stay here as long as you're doing your trading," he says. "Same as the others, I suppose."
"You get a lot of people coming in to trade?" you ask.
"A couple regulars - we trade with some folks a dozen klicks noreast. But there's also a couple irregulars - folks like you. I'd say, I dunno, every few months or so?"
"So, pretty good, then."
"Pretty good, yeah. Listen, Nomad, you mind staying here and not walking around town? At least, not until after you've talked with the Mayor. You're new to the town and all, and it'd be strange for the others to suddenly have you there, if you know what I mean."
"I get it, no problem. Can I at least walk around in here? Or maybe around the Square?"
"In here's not a problem - pretty sure no-one else is staying the night right now. The Town Square… I dunno. Best just wait for the Mayor."
You nod in compliance. It's night out, you're new and no-one knows who you are. Best avoid any incidents.
"I'll come back by prolly late morning to pick you up," Frank says as he heads out. "See ya then."
He gives you a wave as he walks away, out of the inn and into the night.
You shut the door to your room, though you note that it doesn't have a lock. The only thing it has is a privacy bar, which you hook shut. You quickly walk over to the windows opposite the door and open them up to get a slight breeze going.
The room itself is somewhat musty, and looks pretty much like any motel would. There's a relatively stiff bed in one corner that's been well folded and prepared. If not for a thin layer of dust, the sheets would be perfectly clean.
Opposite the bed is a small desk with a wooden chair tucked under it. Next to the desk is a long and voluminous chest of drawers. There's nothing in them except for a practically untouched old book in the bottom.
It's religious, so it's useless to you and you leave it where it is.
Off to the side near the door is a small washroom with a stand-up shower, toilet, and sink. There's a nicely folded towel on a rack, but sadly no travel size soaps or shampoo. Of course, there's no water either. Not that you're expecting it anyway.
You're tempted to take a seat, but you're hardly tired. Your body right now is primed to still be hiking and has plenty of energy left for the day. Instead, you sigh out loud then unload your burden layer after layer. By the end, you have a pile of your things on the dresser, covered up nicely by your poncho and conical hat.
As you do so, Noir hops in through the open window, and then immediately up on the bed. You can sense her purr in satisfaction, most likely due to how comfortable the bed is for her.
This place is quiet, she tells you. Think we can trust them?
They haven't seemed to want to kill us so far, you reply. Should be good enough proof for now, no?
Was the same with the Chimera.
Fair point... You find anything out there?
Nothing at all. But I haven't exactly started looking, either. Just got the lay of the town.
Keep on it, but I don't think we've got much to worry about regardless. I'm thinking we stay here a day or two, see what we can trade for water. Or maybe find a source of water. Then we move on.
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