Shimmer, Glimmer, & Gleam - A Quest of Loss & Gain

You let the idea go. You're far from help right now, and the way you can call for help is not currently operational. Which, speaking of - having abandoned the idea of activating or re-upping phones, you make sure not to forget the idea of swiping spare batteries and chargers. At some point you and Jill need to figure out a fuel run for those generators and the tractors, they might be even more useful than the forklifts and in any event don't require the specialized tanks that said forklifts use. You're not even sure where to start on sourcing those. Maybe there's a processing plant in the city...

(There almost certainly is, your unreliably memory intrudes. Most major cities process their own ethanol, even if they have to import the corn, which Salt Bay City very much does. Some political concession during the Reform. You're not sure if the lack of information there is amnesia or lack of understanding in the first place, but since the faint headache thinking about it feels kinda like when you're reading the magazines and Don't Understand you're sorta willing to bet the latter. Which is oddly. Relieving? Huh.)

Treasures secured and backpack full, you slink out of the store and dash into low cover behind a sports car whose absolutely garish, lime-green paint job says the owner either lost a bet or regularly smokes the kind of weed where if you need to ask the price, you can't afford it. You peek over the hood and -

- Those are people. Three of 'em, looking dirty and desperate. One, up front, is like a much smaller version of the bare-chested romance novel illustrations, in a flower-pattern shirt with stubble growing on its face beneath an honestly lush head of blonde hair. It's holding a lacrosse stick with nails poking out of it. Flanking that one are two a little more like you, in that they have layers on, no stubble, and the telltale little up-and-down of breasts beneath big coats. One of those two, whose sidecut is the same color as this godawful car, is shooting nervous looks everywhere which is a bad pairing with the ten millimeter pistol in its hands; the other is unarmed, and quaking.

All three have strange glass growths that have sliced through the backs of their shirts. There's something odd about the bend of them, a familiarity that tickles you, as if it's like something you know, but not correct.

They're heading...

Oh fuck. They're heading towards Bayview.

Think Fast, Then Lose 1
[ ] Your cover
[ ] Your chance to contact these people
[ ] Your determination not to fuck with Bayview
[ ] A non-confrontational approach

You take a deep breath. It's okay. You've got this. You can help these people. They don't need rescuing the way Jill did, so they won't trust you straight away, and one of them has a gun fuck it has a gun -

No!

You stand up out of cover, holding both hands up (your revolver pointed straight up in your right hand), and say, "Wait," so softly that you barely hear yourself. You swallow, and then, louder: "Wait please!"

They turn in an instant, but strangely the twitchy one with the gun is the first to relax. The barechested person with that lacrosse stick starts advancing, raising its weapon, when the green-haired one puts a hand on its shoulder, making it stop.

The unarmed one, a mousy little thing, gawky and gangly like it hasn't grown into itself just yet, trembles.

"It's got a gun," the lacrosse stick one is saying, hotly.

"Yeah," green hair replies; its voice is like yours, or Jill's, only a bit huskier. "You seen one of those things use a gun, Jack?"

Oh hey, Lacrosse Stick is Jack. Good to know. You clear your throat again. "Don't go to Bayview. It's...don't go to Bayview. There might be people there."

Jack doesn't seem inclined to reply to that, but Green Hair does, first by holstering its gun. You slowly pocket yours in turn, making no sudden movements, and return to showing your hands. Don't spook them. If you spook them, they might run off, and then they'll get hurt, and something in you says that telling yourself at least they would have been hurt anyway if we'd done nothing is a cruel idea you should not have. "What kind of people?" Green Hair asks.

It is at this juncture that the remaining propane tanks inside of Sorrow & Sons, damaged by the initial explosion and being slowly pressed into by the weight of the shelf above them, explode with a muffled thump! that is followed by the stained glass windows of that altered, benighted store shattering outward, blackened and singed. All of you stare at it for a long.

Long.

Long.

Moment.

"That kind," you say, helpfully(?).

"Listen, missy," Jack cuts in; it's not...angry, you don't think, just protective. Scared. The kinda scared that does duty for angry. "Who even are you? How'd you survive unchanged?"

Who even are you...

You open your mouth to say 'I don't know' and then remember, wait, you do know. "My name's Orchid," you say, with a spot of pride. And then add, conscientiously, "for the time being. It's. It's a new name. And I didn't survive unchanged, it's just..." You gesture vaguely at the odd growths coming out of their backs, "well it's in a less polite place than that."

Green Hair snorts. "You got a glass ass or something?"

"Breast."

"...Oh." Green Hair gives you an awkward look, like it wasn't expecting a real answer to match your statement. "But. Okay, listen miss -"

"Why are you calling me that?"

The three of them share a look. It is an odd look. They seem to be trying to figure out who the first to say anything is going to be, and then as if by unspoken agreement, the answer turns out to be 'none of them', but the bizarre situation has Jack lowering its grim stick. "Nevermind, Orchid. There's food in Bayview, and medicine. We're hurt."

Are they? "You look fine," you say in confusion. "...Well no you look like you need a bath and some real food and maybe a nice lullaby...I know a few."

The small one: "Is this lady for real?"

"Marie, shh," Green Hair warns. "You tellin' me you got all that?"

"...The bath might be more like a high-pressure hose and I dunno how long it's gonna work, but..."

But...
[ ] Follow me
[ ] Wait here, I'll be right back

"...Follow me," you finish, with more confidence than you feel. "I've got somewhere relatively safe. Ish. Not safe at all. But it'd be safer, with you there."

You can almost hear their internal monologues debating if this is a trap. You know yours would be. But they also reach the same conclusion you would have: this is the shittiest bait for a trap anyone's ever heard of in all of history. There's a faint chorus of nodding, and you start leading the way back up the freeway, moving from cover to cover. After a few cars they start following suit, albeit kinda clumsily. C'mon y'all.

"Miss," Jack says slowly while you walk. "...Did you do time in the military?"

"Dunno," you answer. "Why?"

Marie, brightly: "This is like a cover shooter! Sis, it's like a -"

Green Hair shushes Marie, and you blink owlishly back at them over your face mask, which you are Keeping On despite the heat. It is proving to be a comfort against all this 'miss' business. You do remember that 'miss' is for women and 'mister' is for men but with no idea what either 'woman' or 'man' means their seemingly arbitrary decision that you are Definitely A Woman is more confusing than informative. On what basis did they make that call? What are they perceiving that tells them, oh yeah, This Is A Woman. Is it your voice? Are voices gendered? Who decided that?

"Miss?" Jack says again, and you're jolted out of your thoughts which had stopped you moving. You keep leading the way forward.

"Orchid," you correct. "Just call me Orchid. And I don't know. I'm an amnesiac. A...really weird amnesiac. Don't ask, I dunno there either."

"Not even how long?" Green Hair asks. Does it not have a name? Is it withholding its name?

You look at the sun, look down at the shadows of the cars, look up towards the sun again. "Fifty hours."

That shuts everyone the fuck up sure enough, and the rest of this tense walk back goes without incident. You lower your face mask as you get closer to your new home, and call out with a high, sweet whistle, a few bars of the Salt Bay Pirates' fight song. By the time your motley crew has crossed the parking lot, Jill is peeking out the shattered front doors, and it gives out an impressed up-and-down kinda whistle. "You sure found more people, flower. Who're these folks?"

You point. "Jack." Point again. "Marie." Point again. "Green hair -"

"...Sasha," Green Hair corrects, amused.

"- Sasha. They're hurt, they need food and a bath, and Jill, Jill, I found, hold up, I found -" You're already unslinging the backpack, and you stop when Jill raises its hand. And you wait, expectantly, to be praised, to hear you've been a Good Friend.

"Welcome to our home," Jill says to the other three. "Uh, such as it is, but my momma didn't raise me to be a neglectful hostess an' all. Orchid, can you show them to where they can hose off and pick out new clothes, and I'll go glare at the recipes in Dirty Dick's an' see if we can't feed these people some of that crab that's gonna go bad if no one eats it anyway? Y'did good."

Yes! Yesyeyesyesyesyesyes - "On it!"

* * * *

The story comes out of the three of them while everyone, yourself included, is eating as much seafood and produce as y'all can safely manage. They're siblings, and when Impact hit they were coming home from some concert or other, and have been on the run since. They're light on details; sometimes, Jack or Sasha will start to describe something they encountered, and Marie will begin crying, and they have to stop themselves and comfort it. Marie, it turns out, is something called a 'child' or, as it insists, a 'teenager', which are words you understand but are also missing huge referents for. It is some kind of in-process human being not yet matured into its final form and the implication is that it's younger than you, evidently? You're not sure if 'child' is a gender or if whatever ripped your identity out just had a particularly brutal hand.

Or whatever put your consciousness in was rushing the job, you suppose. You're still not...decided...how you feel about whether you lost something, or whether you're a new person, whole in yourself. And that can gets to be kicked down the road for some time.

Still. There is a warmth in your chest when the three of them fall asleep together, huddled in a new tent pitched near the fire for the Eternal Soup, where Jill is gently unpacking your haul. It quietly takes your hand when the stuff is all sorted, and gives you one of those smiles you'd do anything for.

Anything.

You have saved three lives, and gained something you have no name for. You are 59 hours old.

There are things to do, to sort out, in the coming time. It's vital to be supplied and operational (huh, that's a weird word to think...) as soon as possible, and new people here at home opens up some possibilities. Jack swiftly proves to also be forklift certified, for one, and Sasha says it apprenticed as part of the Handyman's Guild and might be able to help with some things...

The next sequence will take place over about a week. Please pay attention to the options you can select for each category.

Your Major Projects (Pick 2)
[ ] Strike out with Jill to find a Bayview membership card and maybe some money, and then raid Bayview
[ ] An exit will be key if everyone has to run for their lives. Work with Jack to open the freeway.
[ ] Someone needs to learn this crossbow. See who wants to.
[ ] You have recipes, stoves, and access to at least some supplies. Thanks to your roof garden, you can preserve two weeks of fruits and vegetables, with your current jars and such.
[ ] This parking lot needs looting and you have four people.
[ ] Write-In? (Proposal Here)

What The Fuck Is Up With (Pick 1)
[ ] ...Gender?
[X] What you saw in Sorrow and Sons [Locked In; you need Jill here. You. You need...]
[ ] Those growths in the new people's backs
[ ] Cars??
[ ] The lack of airplanes, helicopters, etc

Relaxing (Pick 2)
[ ] Those romance novels. You will solve this mystery.
[ ] Word games & puzzles. Use pencil so other people can enjoy them.
[ ] Try to paint with the small selection of big-ass paint buckets
[ ] Jill knows music. Learn some.
[ ] Interrogate Marie about these videogames. The person with the voice that is not like yours talked about them too. They must be important!

A Dream (Pick 1)
[ ] ...Of a friend
[ ] ...Of a steadfast protector
[ ] ...Of a healer
[ ] ...Of nature, whose one and only law is named Wasp
[ ] ...Of nothing in particular