Into a Rising Wind

[handsofwinter]

Winter holds the Nexus in its jaws, and its teeth sink ever deeper.

A month into the storm, the snow has yet to stop falling. The number of mouths to be fed has stopped dwindling, almost. Occasionally people go missing, and those who notice hope they’ve found a way back through their portals. It’s not enough to change the maths on their food supplies - all their supplies. Nobody is getting a full meal at a time, not any more. Isidor and Lyall have begun to enforce the rationing with iron hands. Both ignore the look that crosses Captain Kirk’s face when they upbraid a volunteer cook for being too generous – the look that lingers on Runa’s face if she’s close enough to hear. They’re doing what they must. They need a tight hold on their supplies if they want to get people through this. They need supplies even to send expeditions after more.

And expeditions are a difficult prospect now. Those who ventured into the storm and returned have brought stories that spread faster than Isidor hoped. The Crossroads Cafe has become a semi-official hub for those travelling outside or keeping watch on the bounds, a safe resting place kept warm by the combined power of Pokemon and Persona. In the long dark nights, people sit around the tables and share what they've seen, what they've heard from this scout or that refugee. Whispered tales of the creatures out there hunting in packs, hounding people from rooftops, even tearing open walls to reach them…

No-one goes out alone, now. Those brave enough to take the risk go in groups and arm themselves with the best weapons they can find. Sometimes they’re a risk to themselves. Not everyone knows how to handle that black market plasma pistol they picked up two days past. Not all of their team-mates keep their nerve when a figure looms out of the snows beside them. Sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s run afoul of monsters, and who of their own folly. Safer, but little less brave, are the people recruited to keep watch on that shifting line of torches. Just a precaution. The creatures don’t come past it, everyone says. But quietly, everyone doubts.

There've been bright moments, too. A strange alchemist comforting a lost child. An expedition team fighting their way home, back to back. Families brought safely through the snow by soldiers and wizards, by heroes young and old and sometimes surprising. A volunteer cook stepping up to prepare, if not quite a hundred thousand meals, then something that feels close. A young man saving the life of a stranger who'd threatened him. The past weeks have seen people who may never have known one another before come together to offer a blanket, or guiding words, or a helping hand in a search. Small moments, glowing reminders of how much good the people of the Nexus have on their side. But the Winter goes on, and the winds never get less bitter, and the smiles get more strained with every day.

Slowly the line of torches close on the Plaza, a noose no-one can afford to flee. Sheltered space is at a premium. Most of those who remain are settled as close to the centre as they can be. Whether in the big public bunker or the Cafe, people find themselves crammed all together, and tempers regularly fray among residents not too cold and exhausted for fighting. The more responsible Nexus-goers find themselves trying to duck out of (or break up) fights, or spending hours stuffing drafty accommodation with any insulation they can find. There’s snow to be shoveled from doors, pipes to be defrosted, bandages to be changed. Anything’s better than dealing with the problem of working bathrooms.

At one end of the Plaza headquarters, a makeshift screen has been dragged into place to give a semblance of privacy to Isidor’s desk. It’s painfully early in the morning, though the nights are so long and the days so dim beneath the storm clouds there’s little sense of time any more. There’s no-one around yet to wonder about the meeting going on. The only people present are Isidor, Lyall and a handful of senior volunteers – those who remain. Blaze-37 crouches by a makeshift fireplace, stacking the salvaged wood just right before she punches it lightly, setting it alight with the flames that ripple over her fist. The other robot, Ghost, is hovering over the desk playing flashlight for them, shining a pale beam over the maps and reports laid out there. Light, too, is a precious resource, as batteries die and outlets are lost to encroaching Winter. It’s the only reason those here have gotten sleep. They work until they have no light to work by.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Suou?” the Guardian asks when Isidor says they can begin.

“Officer Suou won’t be coming.”

That’s part of why they’re here, Isidor explains. The torches’ march has taken them past the Grand Library. The Crossroads Café is now on the very edge of the safe zone, along with all the people sheltering there. Katsuya’s magic is the only thing that will protect it. He can’t leave. It’s a turning point that only drives home the larger problem: they’re running out of time. They’re running out of everything. Most refugees are in some kind of shelter by now; what they lack is food to keep them alive and fuel to keep them warm. Isidor’s volunteers have counted heads and counted tins and counted everything backwards and forwards and the numbers never get better. Either they do something now, while they have the strength, or the meals will run dry in two weeks. Less, if anything goes wrong.

She lets that sink in. Nobody looks surprised: she’s confirming their worst suspicions and that gets a few flinches, but they understand. They talk, instead. By the time there’s a hint of daylight outside and someone knocks on the door for the first shot at rations, they have a plan. They need an expedition, bigger than any before. They need enough arms to discourage attack, the skills to get them to any buried supplies and the numbers to haul them back in quantity. Each of them walks away from the table with a mission in mind and an air of grim determination.

They have a job to do, and they’re going to need help.

((As before, so below: the main missions/subquests for the expedition prep are listed below. Tag any of them, threadhop, or post with your own character. I suggest putting your character’s name in the subject to help keep things clear. The OOC Post can be found here! If you have any questions, feel free to message me or one of the mods!))

Threads of Note

Scouting the Expedition | A Fistful of Torches | Scrapyard Sweep | The Home Front | Medical Attention | Isidor's Expedition Call | Main Expedition: The Raid

Comments

[outpostcook]

"Roger that!" Military language. Kinner's thinking like a soldier in the field, and Furiosa's his commanding officer. He trusts her judgement.

Kinner obeys Furiosa's directions, for now focused less on shooting the Fallen and more on staying on board the snowmobile. He's already almost fallen to his death today and he isn't in the mood for it again. He gets down, the only thought in his head that his coworkers wouldn't believe him if he told them about this. He laughs, both out of excitement and sheer disbelief. This is happening. This is happening and his mind's racing and his hearts flailing against his chest like a canary in a birdcage.

He isn't so bothered about the swearing. He's no prude, and he was in the Army. He's used to swearing. He'll need a good long rest once they get out of this mess, that's for sure. His chest's hurting him, but he's struggling through it as he clasps his gun and keeps an eye out for more Fallen attackers.

[handsofwinter]

The next few minutes are going to be frantic. The dreg rider snarls right back at Furiosa, ducking when she shoots. At that range, though, even wild shots can hardly miss and a couple of rounds sink into the dreg’s near shoulder. Its cry of pain is lost in the roar of engines and grind of metal… but it holds on, hunching over the bike and driving it right into the snowmobile.

It’s going to become a grinding push and pull of locked horns, each trying to force the other out of control. There’s no help on that side, either. Somewhere in the chaos a couple of other Fallen bikes separate out the left escort rider, and they’re chasing him into the trees. The other tries to drop around and help, only to find the rest of the pack shooting up his tail.

They’re on a different trail to the one they came now, cutting straight where they detoured earlier. And out of the haze ahead looms a new threat: the great stump and splintered end of a broken tree. The locked vehicles are rushing straight for it.

This will either be a gift, or a lethal disaster.

[eumenis]

There's something strangely reassuring about the dreg rider snarling back at her. It makes her feel more like she's on a run back home, locked in combat with a Buzzard or some random party of scavs with heavy weapons. That, and she has to give the schlanger credit for staying on target even with her shooting at him.

He's a good driver. She's going to kill him anyway, if she can, but he's good.

She barks a laugh, once, and keeps her metal arm held at the ready. He's close enough to stab her if he tries, and that might send the bike out of control and kill him, but a War Boy would do it. She's been punctured on a run like this before and is not eager for a repeat.

And as if she's conjured it from that very thought, the stump looms up ahead of them. Later she'll swear she almost thought she heard Joe's voice Angharad! Look out!

God help them if the trailer hitch isn't solid, she thinks, and sinks as low as she can, pulling hard at the steering. As much as she'd like to scrape off the biker locked with her, the trailer is a concern; she'd rather dodge altogether than risk losing their cargo. But the dreg is pulling her, too. Her best efforts to go wide of the stump still mean they're hurtling close, close, too close.

She brakes and turns hard at the same time; there's a shower of splintered wood and metal and ice. The snowmobile rocks dangerously, threatening to roll, and Furiosa yells something that's more of a cry of pain than a swear word, but her foot is still on the gas pedal, and the engine still roars beneath her.

[outpostcook]

Kinnner, meanwhile, is less shooting and trying to keep a grip on the snowmobile. He's ridden a motorbike before, and he's been in extreme weather before, but never at the same time. Still, he laughs in defiance as Furiosa drives.

Then, when he sees the tree stumo, his eyes practically bug out as he braces himself. From the look of things, they're going to crash into it. The Fallen must've been planning this all along, the bastards. If he had the time to aim and fire, he'd put bullets in their brains for their trouble, but he's got more important matters at hand for the time being.

Like not being brained by that tree stump.

He trusts Furiosa to brake, and he almost collapses in relief when she does. For now, they're still alive, and they still have the food. That's what's most important, even more than taking revenge on the Fallen, though Kinner wouldn't be above shooting at any of the monsters who went for him.

Being struck in the chest injured him somewhat, the adrenaline in his veins helping him shrug off the pain for now. His voice trembles slightly and his breath is ragged, more from exhaustion than the injury, which isn't as bad as it could have been.

He throws back his head and cackles, even though he knows they aren't home free yet. "Nice goin', ya mugs! You're gonna have to try a bit harder than that!"

[walking_on_fire]

Damn. At first firing off fire seems to be working, but nothing seems to deter the Fallen from their goal. Stubborn, obnoxious creatures. Then the idea hits Natalie out of the blue. If fire isn't working, then it's time to try and turn the elements against the Fallen in the only way she knows how. Thankfully it's not difficult to call out another Pokemon while she's riding on Volcarona, Politoed returning to the forefront, still doing well after not getting much battle use.

"Come on. We need to get ahead of them!" Volcarona takes this as a sign to speed up, flying ever faster to get ahead of the convoy. All Natalie needs is a minute or two, Politoed sticking himself onto Natalie back, waiting for the cue. When the convoy breaks and takes a sharp turn forward, that's her chance to try and get it front of the Fallen, angry toad on her back.

"Go! Douse them in water!" With a mighty leap, Politoed is in the air, sending a large gush of water forward. Whether that turns to dangerous ice or stays a tsunami style wave, either element seems like a good way to slow these creatures down. Hopefully, it'll give the convoy some safety...

[handsofwinter]

The side of the snowmobile is a mess of wrenched-apart metal, half the door torn away, mirror gone, window reduced to a few shards sticking out of the door… but the Fallen bike is a burning wreck in the snow behind them, soon lost in the fog. The other riders cry out raggedly and accelerate forward- only for that wave of water to hit their center and send the bikes spinning to either side, one or two of the riders falling off completely. The pack becomes a confused mess as the other bikes swerve round to avoid their out-of-control comrades… and they too fall away behind the convoy.

Natalie might glimpse them picking themselves up through the wind-hurled snow, but they don’t come chasing after the convoy. Not directly. They scatter into the woods to either side, and the little convoy gets a reprieve. Their left escort bike is still nowhere to be seen, but the other is keeping a wary eye out as he follows on their flank.

They’re almost to the fields outside the town when the Fallen bikes come at them again – but this time they’re staying in the trees, pistols firing at them from shelter- and in another moment they’re out of the woods at last, racing for the dark shapes of the buildings as the light fails around them. There’s a glimmer of Arc light from the rooftops. The first hint of sniper fire waiting for them.

One last gauntlet to run, then. One last push and they’re home.

[eumenis]

Furiosa doesn't usually Witness her foes, but as ways to die go, that was pretty chrome. She won't say anything now, but just wait until she gets back to the Citadel and tells the Ace about this one.

Unfortunately, she hasn't come out unscathed. The same collision that scraped the Fallen biker loose wreaked havoc on her left side. There are a few scratches, maybe splinters, on her cheek, but her eye is mercifully unharmed. Further down, a wicked spike of frozen wood from the felled tree has impaled her shoulder. It's hit nothing vital, but it's bleeding and it looks horrible.

Her metal arm is wrenched and twisted, straps and hydraulics snapped. It might be a total loss; she can't tell yet. She has to forge ahead anyway; they're still being pursued, so she presses hard on the accelerator and grits her teeth as the snowmobile roars ahead.

"Kinner," she says thickly, "I need you to cut the straps to my arm and put it on the floor. Gonna need my elbow-joint free to steer."

Her gaze is wide in the rearview mirror when the wave of water comes up behind them. That's impressive, like nothing else she's seen so far on the field today, and she makes a note to say something to Natalie later.

Right now, though, the road demands her focus.

[outpostcook]

Yeah, just with a quick look at the prosthetic arm that looks pretty bad. Kinner's no mechanic, so he can't tell one way or the other. He has a bigger priority now, anyway. They have to get away from the Fallen, ideally with the food.

With a salute, Kinner obeys Furiosa's instructions without any hesitation whatsoever, cutting the arm's straps and carefully placing it on the floor. He's seen artificial limbs before. While he isn't as badly ravaged by the war as some, he's lucky all he got was a scarred face. Furiosa's in charge of steering. It's up to Kinner to hold off the Fallen until they're home free, and he's in a position where he can shoot again.

When he sees one, he shoots into the trees. Maybe not enough to kill them, but they're partly warning shots. As far as he's concerned, the battle's over. The pirates lost. He whoops, though he doesn't lose sight of the creatures lurking. It never pays to turn your back on the enemy.

His jaw drops when he sees the wall of water, shaking his head to make sure he isn't imagining things.

"Reckon that's Natalie. I'll have to thank her when we make in back to base." Kinner uses the giant wave to try and pick off stragglers from the Fallen ranks, fighting through his bruised ribs. "Hang on, Furiosa! Not much longer now!"

[walking_on_fire]

The forest has one weakness Natalie knows of: it can be burned, so she turns another stream of fire attacks to the woods, hoping to dissuade their pursuers. However, upon reaching the open area, she's reminded of the previous assault in such a space. Being attacked from a distance isn't going to help...

The best she can do is keep flying nearby, unable to really direct an effective attack until she knows where the enemy is coming from.

[eumenis]

There's a ringing in her ears that Furiosa knows from experience is more from pain and blood loss than sound. Her vision is a little fuzzy around the edges, but she's clear enough to keep her focus on the road. Once free of the arm, she leans in and hooks her elbow around the steering wheel, using that as a second hand.

If she hadn't learned to operate both with and without her prosthesis, she wouldn't be alive today.

It's all too reminiscent of the road war with the Wives and Max, though, and she finds her thoughts slipping to and from the present, even as she ducks and dodges sniper fire that comes up around them. The best thing, the only thing, she can do now is move fast and hope that Nux has their pursuit covered--

No, no, not Nux. Natalie. And she won't be blowing up with the Rig, thank V8.

She rolls her wounded shoulder, relying on the pain to snap her out of the fugue of memory, and it works. She glances to the side once at a fire attack from Natalie, but within a few minutes they're very much in the home stretch, racing across the open plain toward the torches.

Thank you, Hazel, thank you, thank you... She breaks into a grin when she sees the defenders from the rest of the Nexus coming out to meet them. They weren't attacked in their absence after all. This might work. This is going to work.

They've made it.