by HL TRUSLOVE
You run into the room and grab the box of uranium, holding it in one hand and your gun in the other as you dash out the building. There’s gunfire at your feet and shouting that fades as you get further and further away. You duck behind a wall and disappear into the ruins of the nearby houses. You keep running, your arms laden with the uranium, until you’re sure the only sound you can hear is your beating heart. You slow to a jog, and then a walk, as you realise you’re alone.
END.
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Add Return to the Base (Chapter 19, L.19) to map.
* * *
Go to Return to the Base (Chapter 19).
15.25
You push past the guards, who are so surprised they don’t have time to stop you. Your hands close around the uranium box and one begins to call out – you swing the box around and silence him with all the force you can muster, making a loud crack! as it makes contact. A gobful of teeth and blood flies out of his mouth and he falls to the ground, bleeding profusely from his face. His partner holds up his hands, terrified. You leave him be, instead running out into the street.
You hear shouting from the guards on the roof as you start to make your escape, but you keep running. There’s gunfire at your feet and shouting that gets further and further away. You duck behind a wall and disappear into the ruins of the nearby houses. You keep running, your arms laden with the box, until you’re sure the only sound you can hear is your beating heart. You slow to a jog, and then a walk, as you realise you’re alone.
END.
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* * *
Go to Return to the Base (Chapter 19).
15.26
You can see this isn’t going to go anywhere, and slowly pull a vial from your coat pocket. The raiders around you watch curiously, more interested than scared, and the boss has a look of caution on his face. This only increases when you whip your respirator on, hiding your grin underneath.
“Wait!” he shouts, and you’re not sure if it’s to you or his companions, but he doesn’t have time to finish. You throw the vial to the ground and it explodes, the small tinkling of glass matched with a violent flash of sparks and then a thick, bilious fog. It’s noxious, this smoke, and expands quickly to fill the room and then moves out the door. The raiders fall into violent coughing fits as you run into the slowly obfuscated hallway.
It’s difficult to search through the smoke, but you do it anyway. Eventually, you find what you’re looking for – the uranium is tucked away in a room of loot. Another time, maybe, you’d explore this more, but for now you grab the box and run out of the smoke-filled building.
You tug your respirator off in the clean air and take a moment to look back at the building. Clouds are billowing from every open window. You smile to yourself, and think about the miracle of science.
END.
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* * *
Go to Return to the Base (Chapter 19).
15.27
With a serious look on your face, you begin to tell the raider everything you know.
The history of the fallout.
The war.
The weapons that started this all.
The uranium they were made from.
You exaggerate a bit, perhaps, especially when it comes to the way that radiation poisoning from being too near the chemical only takes a few days to take hold and warps people into disgusting monsters with no hair or eyes.
The boss is caught on your every word. He stops eating and pales, placing his meal to the side. Eventually, he waves a hand to stop you talking.
“Bring it here,” he says to one of his lackeys, who reluctantly leaves the room and comes back with a box held at arm’s length. You hide a smile at how well you told your tale.
You pack the uranium away, and one of the raiders thanks you. You let them know you’re doing them a service and gravely accept their thanks, before breezily heading out the door, happy things went smoother than expected.
END.
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* * *
Go to Return to the Base (Chapter 19).
15.28
“Trade?” The boss’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Well, tell me what you have then.”
You put your pack on the ground and rummage through it, hoping to find something he’ll want.
Turn to 15.30, Needs High Quality Rations OR Jewellery OR Bear Tooth OR Morphine OR Tiger Skin OR Tiger Claw.
* * *
Turn to 15.15.
15.29
“I’m just here for the uranium,” you say, slowly. “Hand it over and nobody needs to get hurt.” You puff your chest out and try to look as intimidating as possible.
They look at you, wide eyed. You suddenly realise how young these men are, how inexperienced at life they must be. It hurts your heart a bit. They don’t reply, but they also don’t stop you when you walk past them into the loot room, picking up the box. They watch you as you pack it into your bag before you sigh and turn back to them.
“Look. Leave this place. Raiders are bad news, all right? Find somewhere better.”
The raiders exchange a glance but don’t reply. You give them a sad smile before running out the door.
END.
Add Compassion to your character sheet.
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Add Return to the Base (Chapter 19, L.19) to map.
* * *
Go to Return to the Base (Chapter 19).
15.30
“I see…” says the boss, turning over your offering in his big, greasy fingers. He seems happy and then nods to one of the other raiders in the room, who scurries out before returning with a heavy box marked with faded nuclear symbols.
“I think we can make this trade, traveller. And if you come across anything else like this, feel free to return. I’m sure we can hash something out.” He gives you a wide smile and you smother the urge to recoil at the fat lodged in his teeth.
You take the box and leave the compound as quickly as you can, reluctant to hang around for much longer in this filthy place. At least it’s done now.
END.
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Remove one of High Quality Rations, Morphine, Bear Tooth, Tiger Skin, Tiger Claw OR Jewellery from your character sheet.
Add Return to the Base (Chapter 19, L.19) to map.
* * *
Go to Return to the Base (Chapter 19).
Chapter 16
The Cell
16.0
Turn to 16.1a, Needs The Gaoler
* * *
OTHERWISE,
* * *
Turn to 16.1.
16.1a
The journey back to the cell is just as uncomfortable as last time. You mentally kick yourself the whole time, wondering how on earth you got into this situation again. You have no idea how you could be so stupid.
At least, this time, you know what to expect.
Your captors shove you roughly as you go, seeming to want to try to trip you with every step. The mistake they made this time was that they bound your wrists just a little too loosely.
You feel the ground change underfoot and know you’re getting close to the cell again. You smile to yourself when the bag is taken off of your head.
The huge, bearded guard obviously recognises you. His eyes squint for a moment and his brow furrows, but it’s quickly replaced by a grimace of pain when you slip your hand free and punch him directly in the face.
He recoils in pain and you bolt.
Your captors are so surprised, they don’t have time to react. You run away, through the cell and back out into the open. They shout after you but you don’t stop, running until you’re far away from all o
f it.
They don’t come after you. They probably think you’re too much trouble.
END.
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16.1
You walk for days. You can’t count them because of the heavy sack pulled over your head, stifling both your vision and your breathing, but you can feel the fatigue mauling your body all the way down to your bones. Your gait is awkward, and you often stumble over uneven ground – though it all seems to be uneven ground – as your captors lead you by your wrists.
Eventually, the rough dirt under your soles gives way to gravel, and then to stone, and then to metal. At least the latter makes it easier to hear. You prick up your ears as best you can and try to pick up the sounds of footprints around you. Judging by the clang of boots, you think there must be at least four other people. Likely all slavers.
At some point, a hand on your shoulder shoves you to the floor. You don’t expect it and fall hard and fast, your knees colliding painfully with the ground and sending shockwaves up your legs. You cry out as the bag is removed from your head.
The light, harsh and electric, temporarily blinds you. It takes several moments of blinking to try and reorient your vision.
You’re in a squat building. It’s messy, the sides of the rooms full of bags and boxes containing all sorts of items, certainly things that have been stolen, given the nature of your imprisoners.
You vaguely realise that the people who brought you here have been talking, but you aren’t lucid enough to pay attention. What you are sickly aware of, though, is a large, bearded man coming towards you. He’s almost twice as big as any of the other slavers you’ve seen, arms like tree trunks and his neck the same width as his chin. His grin is full of rotten teeth and his breath stinks as he takes a look at you.
“Impressive work with this one, lads. Surprised you got ’em here without a fight.”
He takes your face in his hand and inspects you. You consider fighting back, but you’re so tired after the travelling that you know it would be pointless. Instead, you glare at him as he looks you over.
“All right, then. Shove ’em with the others.” Then he turns to you and that grotesque smile gets even wider. “And I’ll be seeing you later, chicken.”
Before you can protest, the bag is shoved back over your head and you’re forced to your feet. The walk isn’t as long this time and you find yourself going down some stairs – though it’s impossible to tell where they lead.
You’re pushed forward into something and hear a door clang shut behind you. No longer feeling the pressure of someone tugging at your hands, you give it a moment before removing the bag and flinging it as far away from you as you can.
You’re in a cage. An old, barred cell. Despite its obvious age, the iron has stood up well to the test of time and you don’t think you can use brute strength to get out of this.
There are more people in the room. Locked up by their hands and ankles to bars on the walls. They all look as tired as you feel, and none of them bother to turn to you.
You wonder why you’re the only one locked in a cage.
Add The Gaoler (E.19) to your character sheet.
* * *
Shout for help – Turn to 16.2.
* * *
Wait – Turn to 16.3.
* * *
Get the attention of another captive – Turn to 16.4.
16.2
You rise to your feet and find they’re bound by cuffs, the same as your hands. You also notice your ankles and wrists are rubbed red raw. Gritting your teeth against the pain of moving, you head to the door of the cell and grip the bars, taking in a deep breath and beginning to shout for attention.
The sudden calamity makes all the other captives jump and they finally spare you a glance. A few look sad, others look annoyed at the noise. You continue to call out as loudly as you can, slamming your chains against the bars.
“Shut up!”
You stop, but only out of surprise. The captive closest to your cell looks angry. He’s in his fifties, with greying hair and a beard. His chains look almost rusted around him.
“If you make a noise they’ll come and make all our lives a misery, you idiot,” he hisses. As frustrated as he sounds, you can also sense a desperation in his voice. He’s seen this situation before.
Continue to shout – Turn to 16.5.
* * *
Wait – Turn to 16.3.
16.3
Your body is tired from the long march and your limbs ache in their constraints. The best thing you can do right now is to take advantage of the break. You can come up with a plan later.
You shuffle awkwardly to the corner of the cell and prop yourself up against the cold, stone wall. It sends a shiver through your body, but it’s incredibly nice to have something to support yourself against. You find yourself quickly falling into an exhausted slumber.
It’s impossible to tell how long you sleep, but you imagine if you were given the choice you would do so for longer. All too soon, a tug at your restraints shocks you awake.
There’s a slaver in front of you. They’re in black overalls and a mask. No way to see their face. They place a bowl of food on the floor and slide it over to you with a foot before leaving and locking the door as they go.
Wait – Turn to 16.6.
* * *
Examine the lock – Turn to 16.7, Needs Engineering.
* * *
Eat – Turn to 16.25.
16.4
You approach the side of the cage awkwardly. The restraints around your ankles and wrists are chafing, so every step is incredibly uncomfortable. You fall heavily at the door as close as you can to the other convicts.
“Hello?”
Only one face turns to yours. He’s a middle-aged man with an unkempt beard and tired eyes.
“What?” he asks, his voice dripping with exhaustion.
Talk to him – Turn to 16.8.
* * *
Point to your shackles – Turn to 16.9.
* * *
Pull him close – Turn to 16.10, Needs Hand-to-Hand Combat.
16.5
You ignore the man’s instruction – or warning, perhaps – and continue to shout. Maybe someone will recognise your voice and come?
There’s only a thin chance, but you’re desperate.
The sound of your voice echoes throughout the building. The other prisoners avert their eyes and shuffle as far away from you as they can. Nobody responds. There’s utter silence apart from your shrieks.
The door to the holding room opens. Taking up the entire door frame is a woman, large and angry. Her hair is matted and she has tattoos over her face. There’s a heavy chain in her hands which swings gently with the motion of her body. Seeing her makes your mouth snap shut.
She comes over to your cage and you scuttle away, suddenly realising what a mistake you’ve made, but she opens the door anyway. You want to try and dart by her but as well as being big, she’s quick – she snaps out a hand and the hard metal of the chain connects with the side of your face. You’re dimly aware that you cry out in pain, but the shock of it is too much and you can already feel yourself losing consciousness.
The woman raises the chain again and brings it down onto your head. It wraps around and you feel hard metal knock out one of your teeth, and you spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor.
You pass out after the third strike.
It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed when you awake. You’re aching and bloodied, each synapse feeling like someone set fire to it. You lift your head from the ground and you find a long line of blood and saliva connects you to a little patch of rust-red drool where your mouth was. Everything tastes of copper.
There’s a guard stationed at your cage now. His face is covered with a mask, he has a machete at his side and his arm in a sling. He turns and looks at you at the sounds of your stirring, and you get a sick sense of judgement even though you can’t see his face.
&nb
sp; Behind him, you notice your pack is on a table. Everything in it has been taken out and arranged for inspection. It feels strangely violating, having these people pick apart your life here and stare at it.