Part of the Nexus charm has always been the eccentric mix of architecture that flows from a multiversal crossroads. Be they squat or stately, rugged or sleek, all of them serve the same basics purpose: offering shelter to those who call the Nexus home… and never has that shelter been more sorely needed. With so many places to hole up, not everyone has chosen to take shelter in the main bunker, nor use the café as their home base. A few knots of refugees have hunkered down in other buildings around the Plaza, padding the walls with insulation and refusing to budge. They’re content enough where they are, thank you, away from the crowding and the arguing and the risk of sickness in the public shelter.

By itself, it’s not a bad plan. But most of that strange mix of buildings were never designed for this kind of winter. Nor do many of those hidden away possess the experience to consider what happens when the layer of snow atop their roof keeps building, day by day, deeper and heavier…

It’s grown dark when the last straw finally comes tumbling gently out of the sky. From outside in the plaza, there’s little warning. A faint creak of timber when the wind drops, perhaps. Then, suddenly, a crunch and crash from a small apartment building as the roof caves in. The lights peeking around the blinds go out. Glass shatters. Chunks of ice and dislodged snow come sliding down to bury lower doors and windows. From within come shouts, screams of panic.

And already the snow is falling again, to bury them all.