The Time After

[X] Annette is computer savvy. Ask if she knows how to track her phone or social media stuff

"How sure are you that she's been taken Doug?" You ask.

"I'm... pretty certain. I mean, I've tried calling her. She's not picking up. She's not responding to text. There have been no updates to any of her social media for about twenty-four hours."

You consider then pull out your phone. "Give me her number." You take his phone, check it against yours, and then dial from yours. "What's her actual name?"

"Jillian." Doug says.

You dial. There's a long pause. Ringing, ringing, ringing. Nothing. You give Doug's phone back to him. "Okay, uh, I know you're into computer security, Annette. If I have a phone's number, what can you do to track it?"

"Aren't we going a bit fast here?" Annette asks. "We don't really know she's missing. There's a lot I can do but a lot of it is quite invasive."

"Right, but if she has been taken and we don't find her soon, we might never find her." You counter.

Annette sighs then rubs her eyes. "There are ways that I can track a phone. But I'm not sure I really like this. This is some real Dark Knight shit. Why don't you go through what Doug sent her while I see what I can do?"

[Annette: Disapproval +1]
[Doug: Approval +1]

"Alright. Thanks Annette."

"Yeah." She waves, turning to her computer. You begin to work through the messages that Doug sent and the recent activity on her social media feed. Like most people her age, the main social media account she has is on Friendzone, a microblogging and picture platform. She's normie looking, with long brown hair, a pretty, suntanned face and a slightly big nose. You would normally say she's way out of Doug's league, even though her interests run to the highly nerdy. There's a lot of pictures of her posing in cosplay, or with various board games.

No, this is good cosplay. She's definitely out of Doug's league. You have the faint, slight worry that you might be helping him stalk her, then feel somewhat ashamed for thinking something like that about him. Doug's a nerd, but he's never come off to you as a creep.

Besides, her social media feed shows... changes. The pictures are all of her cosplaying stuff, but they're all over four months old. More recent stuff is all text, first talking about how she's got involved in the Centre for Wellness and Fulfilment, based on a friend from university. Then more and more jargon packed posting about cult stuff, reposts of stuff from Centre of Wellness and Fulfilment stuff, anything personal in the feed vanishing under the weight of that. And then, a few days ago, the feed cuts off abruptly, posts made every three or four hours suddenly becoming three days without. You check replies to her and find a lot of people asking if she's okay, mostly old follows, and several older arguments between her and her friends about the CWF.

"Yeah, this definitely looks like a cult." You mutter, sitting back. "What was the message she sent you?"

"Here." Doug brings up his phone mail application.

Dear Doug.

I know we didn't leave things in the best place, but I really need someone's help, and you're maybe the only one thing won't think to look at. Recently I got involved in something, and now I think I've made a big mistake. I need somewhere to go. I know this sounds like a scam, but you're the only one who can help me. Please. I need you to rent a place in California city where I can go.

Julia

There's a series of back and forth messages, followed by the last one.

Dear Doug.

Thanks for everything. I'll be in California City in the morning. Please meet me at the cafe you told me about and hand me the keys there. Thank you so much for everything you've done for me.

Julia.

That was sent last night. You wonder if she made it. The most likely thing is she never made it out of LA. If that's the case then you're in for a long drive tonight. Not necessarily the greatest thing so soon after a major operation, even if it was one that should have substantially improved your physical ability even above your normally high range.

"I've got something," Annette says. "Her phone is still in Los Angels." You let out your breath as your suspicion is confirmed, then blink as Annette continues. "I don't think she is though."

"What makes you say that?" You ask.

"You can link social media accounts together if they use the same phone number pretty easily." She leans batch and stretches. "Well, looks like she did." She brings up another Friendzone account. This one has no posts, just a few random likes and comments. "Probably she's just using the DMs."

"Can you get into those?"

"She's not using one of the more common passwords, so no." Annette gives you a look. "But look here." She points to the location. "I think she forgot to turn off her automatic location tag. If you update from a phone, then friendzone will automatically try to put in a location. It's part of the Close Friends function." The location is California city. "So she's in town. Probably with a new phone. Maybe lying low somewhere. Couldn't make the meeting. Maybe doesn't even have your number if it was on her old phone."

"You're the best Annette." You say. She looks proud, though still perhaps a bit annoyed at you. "So, where might she lie low. Do we know how she was travelling? By car or by train?"

"Julie never got a license. She'd have come in by train or bus." Doug says.

You think. Imagine yourself running, exhausted. California city is pretty friendly to people without cars, but you'd bet that someone on the run, maybe getting out without their phone even and without major baggage probably didn't want to hop all the way across the transit system to get somewhere. You should check...

No, this is dumb.

"Hey Annette. Send her a DM on her new account. Tell her you're a friend of Doug and see if she responds."

"Are you sure about that? She might freak out." Annette raises an eyebrow.

Send the DM?
[ ] Send the DM
[ ] No, that'd freak her out too much

What would be the best place to check?
[ ] Check the university, where Doug was supposed to meet her
[ ] Check the bus station, and nearby motels and the like
[ ] Check out large hotels where someone might be attracted if you were on the run.

[x] No, that'd freak her out too much
[x] Check the university, where Doug was supposed to meet her

"We shouldn't message her yet at least. Getting an unannounced DM would freak her out." You frown. Something is wrong with this story. If she wanted to get out, why not just ask Doug to stay over. It might be a little awkward with your ex, but still. "Why don't we go to where you were supposed to meet her and check it out? If you had a meet point, that's where she's most likely to be."

"Alright." Doug nods. "Let's go."

"Do you want to come to Annette?" You ask. She takes a deep breath, then sighs and nods, grabbing a tablet and doing something to it.

"Yeah, let's go." She pulls on her shoes. The three of you head down towards the street, then begin to walk up towards the university. The sun has set but you can still feel the warmth of the concrete pouring up through your soles and radiating off the walls as you wark. It's going to be a hot night, one filled with the hum of air conditioning systems.

Doug is kind of admiring you as you walk, and trying to stop himself. To your surprise, Annette is doing the same from the other side, though she's much better at being subtle about it. "Liking how my build looks?"

"Uh, yeah." Doug coughs. "Sorry, is this weird?"

"I'm sure it'll get really annoying after a while, but it's fine for right now." You laugh. "I didn't decide to look like a fashion model for no reason."

Doug sighs. "It's going to be weird explaining to the guys. Though honestly, it makes sense."

"You said that." You laugh. "I can't say I wasn't a bit inspired by some of my character looks. Or maybe my characters just look the way that I want to look."

"You know Alice." Annette says, "You are an absolutely gigantic nerd. I knew it was you because you totally made yourself have that thin, muscular hourglass look all your characters have." She gives you a look. "I just hope you know you're going to have to do a lot of work to maintain that."

"Bioroid muscles consume more calories than human ones." You say, then stop as you turn onto the university campus, trying to figure out what exactly feels wrong. The campus is a series of large, square, medium height buildings, purposely built as classrooms, with some shorter support structures between them. Like all of California City's buildings the place is brand new. Green Rococo, gleaming arcadian structures of solar cells and gleaming brass, up which vines and green things climb. The low and midrise buildings create a void in the city, a place not touched by the cloud scrappers and neobrutalist megastructures climbing nearby.

You've never been sure how good all the plants built into the design is in the middle of the fucking desert, where all the water has to be taken in from the coast and turned useable in a series of massive solar-powered desalination systems and the nuclear generators off the coast. The vines are supposedly bred to use little water, and to filter the air, to extract carbon as part of the attempt to stabilize the climate. Another genetic miracle. At night, the brass is sheened with the lights, the campus filled with students walking between the buildings. Many of the plants have bioluminece added, picking the campus out in strange bright lights.

But there's something off. Instincts honed on the battlefield, in video games, in street fights all tell you. Something does not look right. Then you get it. Everyone is moving. Nobody is paused or sitting. People are moving away from the campus. They're not doing so hastily but they are moving. Some of them reach the edge and turn around, others walk through and start to hurry. It's as if they know something.

Or maybe the feeling of wrongness is what makes them move away.

"Alice..." Doug mutters.

"I feel it too." You mutter.

"What do we do?" Annette asks. She's scared, with an angry sound in her voice.

You take a deep breath. "You guys stay here. I'll go in and see if I can find anything."

"Alone?" Doug says. "Come on, no!"

"Have you ever been in a fight before?" You stare him down, but to your surprise, he refuses to drop your gaze.

"She's my friend, and you don't recognize her. We should both go."

"We'll all go." Annette says. "I'm going to dial in a friend of mine to video chat, so they can call the police if we get into difficulties. Come on." She speaks into her phone, then does something to her overlay glasses and steps back. "Alright, we're live." She says. The three of you begin to walk towards campus. As you step forward, the feeling of wrongness grows, until you feel like you're having to push against it. By the time you get into the campus, you feel like you're having to push back against it physically. Doug and Annette keep glancing around them at the shadows. You try to be more professional, keeping your head on a swivel and quartering the area around you, making sure there's nothing that gets more scrutiny than another.

"Where too?" You ask Doug.

"I was going to meet her in front of the Luna Lunch." The luna is a sandwich shop in the middle of the campus. "There's a notice board near that. We should check it, maybe she left a note."

"Sounds like a plan." You keep walking. As you go, the feeling of dread only gets stronger. Most everyone else has fled, you're alone in the middle of the shadowy campus. Should you just run?

Maybe. But do you really think this feeling is a coincidence? Something unrelated. Doesn't the feeling of dread prove that there's something--

A kiss against your ear.

So pretty now. Still deaf though, like a human.

Who are you?

Simply an old friend. But that is a question for later. For now, see.

Suddenly, the light around you is far brighter. You look around and see something following you. Misshapen creatures, vaguely humanoid, hunched and boney. Each one has a long blade mounted on one arm, yellow bone, or enamel gleaming along the edge.

You don't have a weapon. Take my power. Fight.

Or you could grab your friends and run.

[ ] Fight with the power of the voice
[ ] Run