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

"Deal goes like this. You throw down arms, right now. That's non-negotiable, you people are gonna hurt yourselves with those antiques and worse, you'll hurt the antiques."

The woman with the revolver-rifle scoffs, almost amused in spite of herself. "You and your...organization...are all heart, huh?"

"They are. I'm not. However, my father did raise me with standards, and y'know? They tend to work out better for people around me than feelings do." You jerk your head in the direction of the suburbs. "You almost went to your fuckin' deaths. The whole of suburbia's a damn manifestation, maybe one that's been frozen into place, maybe being maintained by some kind of survivor. 's what all the shelling is about, we're disrupting the dreamscape, but set foot on anything that isn't ashes and odds are you'll starve to death. Now, what you do with that information is up to you, you're fuckin' adults. But. I do have an offer on the table when you throw down your arms."

She looks at you. Looks at the survivors she's with. Looks at your gaggle of corporate goons playing at soldiering like the dipshits they are. And she lays down her rifle before stepping back. Her followers, taking the hint, do likewise. "Let's hear this offer, Ms...?"

"Captain," you correct. "Captain Isoldt Young, Threshold Ltd. Civilian Rescue. You might have heard our broadcasts, no hard feelings if you assumed it was a trap."

"We did."

"I would have too. My ad reads could be better." You dig out a cigarette and light up, in no particular hurry; after a deep drag you toss the pack below, where a mousy little twink jumps a good four feet straight up to catch it. Damn. Wish you could do that. "We're willing to escort you out of here. You'll be fed, you'll be protected as best we can, and most importantly you won't die in a cookie-cutter hellscape. But I've got a job to do, so when you see the other side of this city and we turn you over to your new home out in the farmlands, I want every detail you can give me on every museum still in this city, so we can grab and preserve the artifacts and information. Sound fair?"

"...Why? Why is that what you want to spend your time on in this situation, it's - there's higher priorities for survival, isn't there?"

You take another long drag.

Trickle smoke out your nose. "Bold of you to assume that I care if anyone lives or dies. That's the deal, and I don't owe you an explanation. Yes, or no?"

"...Fine. Yes."

You call for your men to collect the arms the new people stole, and to re-establish the perimeter. It's gonna be a long godsdamned walk and it's gonna be so painfully fucking celibate.

Ah well. Back to it.

You will shortly be Jackie, the Kitten Whisperer. Pick 2 that have caught her curiosity about this community.
[ ] The defenses
[ ] The birds
[ ] The old people
[ ] Wherever those spiders are going
[ ] The fuckin' nerds
[ ] Write-in? [subject to veto or edit]