You stumble out of the team briefing, a little dazed, like an anvil has been dropped on your head. No one can blame you.
> [[NEXT]]
(set: $CES_FORCESTART to 0)
(set: $CD_FORCESTART to 0)
(set: $SCD_FORCESTART to 0)
(set: $CES_ALIVE to true)
(set: $CD_ALIVE to true)
(set: $SCD_ALIVE to true)
(set: $SPARED to false)
(set: $TIMEBLOCK to 0)
(set: $SUBTIME to 0)
(set: $NAC to "No significant activity.")
(set: $MIC to $TIMEBLOCK)
(set: $EXT to $TIMEBLOCK)
(set: $LAB to $TIMEBLOCK)The face of the male CD twists with something like irritation. "You mean you don't know?"
The third CD steps closer. "We were just finishing our duties. Doing what we need to do– what we were asked to do."
The injured one seems to gather his strength and steps forward. "Yeah. And then that thing– the floor was wet, we didn't notice it. There was this enormous explosion– the guards told us to stay put." He pulls out a lanyard that was tucked underneath the collar of his jumpsuit. A guard's keycard is attached. "They didn't last."
(link: "<q>I won't tell anyone– I'm no threat to you.</q>")[(go-to: "CD-NOTHREAT")]
(link: "<q>I've got bigger things to worry about.</q>")[(go-to: "CD-SUBGOAL")]
(link: "<q>I'll do you one better.</q>")[(go-to: "CD-SABOTEUR")]"Not good enough." The stocky male says. "You Foundation types are one lie after the other."
(link: "<q>I've got bigger things to worry about.</q>")[(go-to: "CD-SUBGOAL")]
(link: "<q>I'll do you one better.</q>")[(go-to: "CD-SABOTEUR")]"This breach has completely disrupted operations, everyone's scrambling, and communications are down. It's not perfect, but it's a great environment to do some things… unseen."
The male prisoner holds up a hand. "Hold on. You mean to say that //you're// responsible for all of this?" He looks her up and down, a scrap of five-foot nothing. The brunette speaks up. "We heard rumours that someone would be getting us out, but…"
"That's not important." She continues. "What's important is that I need help… subduing a researcher. Likely the same one that requisitioned you." She gestures deeper into the facility. "Do that, and I'll owe you. I can //help// you."
(link: "The CDs slot in alongside her.")[(go-to: "MICHAELS-ALLIED")]
(set: $ALLIED to True)"I'm looking for a senior researcher, Dr. Michaels. I worked under him, as a subordinate." She takes a breath. "I have… reason to believe he intends to go behind our back and sell one of the objects in containment. Emails I found on his computer, talking to a buyer. A bioweapon, to be specific. Highly contagious, breaks known laws of physics, and worse than lethal."
The reactions vary. The prisoners look confused or perhaps recognise the object she's talking about, but all of them seem to buy into it. The brunette speaks up. "And you're doing this alone?"
Friendel nods.
The male prisoner sighs, and shifts his rifle down to his hip. "Hell. What you folk do is bad, but putting it out there is worse." He looks back at the other two. "If you can guarantee we'll be rewarded, then I'd be willin' to help."
(link: "The CDs slot in alongside her.")[(go-to: "MICHAELS-ALLIED")]
(link: "She shakes her head. <q>Better I go at it alone.</q>")[(go-to: "MICHAELS-SOLO")]The face of the male CD twists with something like irritation. "You mean you don't know?"
The third CD steps closer. "We were just finishing our duties. Doing what we need to do– what we were asked to do."
"I mean, yeah. This is the latest I've ever been requested for some work." Admitting weakness must feel like pulling teeth for the prisoner. "But it's not like the guards tell us anything that's going on anyway. That's usually the nerd's job."
Friendel looks troubled. "Do you know the name of the scientist who requisitioned you this late? Or what they looked like?"
Something about the urgency in her voice gives them pause. Finally, the wounded one speaks up. "I wasn't really paying attention to that. It was a man. Average height, build, nothing really remarkable. He was tense, though. I figured he was late for some missed duty."
The brunette raises her firearm again, interrupting. "And how do we know you aren't gonna go running to the guards the moment we turn our backs?"
(link: "<q>I won't tell anyone– I'm no threat to you.</q>")[(go-to: "CD-NOTHREAT")]
(link: "<q>I've got bigger things to worry about.</q>")[(go-to: "CD-SUBGOAL")]
(link: "<q>I'll do you one better.</q>")[(go-to: "CD-SABOTEUR")]The third Class-D steps forward. She's short-ish, with brown hair cut to the chin. There's a nasty bruise under her left eye, beginning to form welts. Wordlessly, she raises her handgun, pointing it at Friendel. At the last second, she lowers the barrel's angle and fires a shot. The sound is near-deafening. Friendel stumbles backwards and lets out a cry, clutching her right thigh.
"That," She says, voice hollow, "was a warning shot."
(link: "<q>You're meant to have an armed escort. What happened?</q>")[(go-to: "CD-ESCORT")]
(link: "<q>Who let you down there this late at night?</q>")[(go-to: "CD-TIME")]
(set: $INJURED to True)(if: $SUBTIME is 1)[The room is empty, and dark. A flicker of movement passes the doorframe, northward.
(link: "BRIEFING-B")[(set: $SUBTIME to 2))(goto: "DANTE_BRIEFING_B")]
(link: "DANTE-NORTH-CORRIDOR")[(set: $SUBTIME to 2))(goto: "DANTE_NORTH_CORRIDOR")]]
(if: $SUBTIME is not 1)[(print: $NAC)
(link: "BRIEFING-B")[(go-to: "DANTE_BRIEFING_B")]
(link: "DANTE-NORTH-CORRIDOR")[(go-to: "DANTE_NORTH_CORRIDOR")]](if: $SUBTIME is 0)[`Friendel resumes motion. She stands, and in one swift movement, pulls out her company-issued brick phone and begins taking photos of the laptop’s screen. `
*What? That’s not– *
`Rule number one of working for a secret organisation: don’t steal information. Without context to her actions, you can only speculate as to why.
The lights die as the time ticks over to 22:22. Sitewide blackout.
Friendel whips her head around guiltily, and hurries out of the room.`
(link: "BRIEFING-A")[(set: $SUBTIME to 1))(goto: "DANTE_BRIEFING_A")]
(link: "BRIEFING-C")[(goto: "DANTE_BRIEFING_C")]
(link: "DANTE-NORTH-CORRIDOR")[(set: $SUBTIME to 1))(goto: "DANTE_NORTH_CORRIDOR")]\
]\
\
(else:)[(print: $NAC)
(link: "BRIEFING-A")[(goto: "DANTE_BRIEFING_A")]
(link: "BRIEFING-C")[(goto: "DANTE_BRIEFING_C")]
(link: "DANTE-NORTH-CORRIDOR")[(goto: "DANTE_NORTH_CORRIDOR")]
](if: $TIMEBLOCK is 0)[(print: $NAC)]
(link: "BRIEFING-B")[(goto: "DANTE_BRIEFING_B")]
(link: "DANTE-NORTH-CORRIDOR")[(goto: "DANTE_NORTH_CORRIDOR")](if: $SUBTIME is not 5)[(print: $NAC)
(link: "DANTE-PERSONAL-OFFICES")[(go-to: "DANTE_PERSONAL_OFFICES")]
(link: "DANTE-NORTH-CORRIDOR")[(go-to: "DANTE_NORTH_CORRIDOR")]]
(if: $SUBTIME is 5)[Friendel all but dives for cover when one of the freight elevators slides open. An outpour of about a dozen staff, mostly in white coats, heads in a hurried manner toward the exits. You can't help but feel a little irked; what was the point of emergency staircases again?
When the rabble has cleared, she walks into the available elevator, and punches the downwards button.
(link: "A feeling of low-level dread comes over you as the doors slide shut.")[(go-to: "GREY-SL1")]](if: $SUBTIME is 2 or 1)[The corridor is significantly more chaotic than the quiet of the briefing sector. A couple of late night workers, security, janitorial staff are bustling northwards, to the reception and emergency exits. You can just pick out Friendel’s coat, moving against the tide.
(link: "DANTE-RECEPTION")[(set: $SUBTIME to 3)(goto: "DANTE_RECEPTION")]
(link: "BRIEFING-A")[(set: $SUBTIME to 3)(go-to: "DANTE_BRIEFING_A")]
(link: "DANTE-PERSONAL-OFFICES")[(set: $SUBTIME to 3)(goto: "DANTE_PERSONAL_OFFICES")]
(link: "DANTE-ELEVATORS")[(go-to: "DANTE_ELEVATORS")]]
(if: $SUBTIME is 4)[The corridor is still busy. Stragglers are bustling northwards, to the reception and emergency exits. You can pick out Friendel’s coat, moving with the tide.
(link: "DANTE-RECEPTION")[(set: $SUBTIME to 3)(goto: "reception_alt")]]
(if: $SUBTIME is not 1 and $SUBTIME is not 2 and $SUBTIME is not 4)[(print: $NAC)
(link: "DANTE-RECEPTION")[(goto: "DANTE_RECEPTION")]
(link: "BRIEFING-A")[(go-to: "DANTE_BRIEFING_A")]
(link: "DANTE-ELEVATORS")[(go-to: "DANTE_ELEVATORS")]
(link: "DANTE-PERSONAL-OFFICES")[(goto: "DANTE_PERSONAL_OFFICES")]](if: $SUBTIME is 3)[A smaller, more secluded hallway becomes lit as Friendel slips inside. A few of the doors have been left ajar, likely by evacuating personnel, but the doctor seems to only have eyes for one nameplate.
(link: "Dr. Michaels.")[(goto: "OFFSHOOT_BREAKIN")]]
(if: $SUBTIME is not 3)[(print: $NAC)
(link: "DANTE-NORTH-CORRIDOR")[(goto: "DANTE_NORTH_CORRIDOR")]
(link: "DANTE-ELEVATORS")[(go-to: "DANTE_ELEVATORS")]](if: $SUBTIME is not 5)[(print: $NAC)]
(link: "DANTE-RECEPTION")[(go-to: "DANTE_RECEPTION")](if: $SUBTIME is not 5)[(print: $NAC)]
(link: "DANTE-PRIMARY-EXIT")[(go-to: "DANTE_PRIMARY_EXIT")]
(link: "DANTE-NORTH-CORRIDOR")[(go-to: "DANTE_NORTH_CORRIDOR")]DR. FREINDEL POSSESSES TWO DOCTORATES: ECOLOGY AND MICROBIOLOGY. IN SECOND YEAR OF TRAINING FOR ANOMALOUS PATHOLOGY CERTIFICATION. ASSIGNED TO OBJECT 8898 UNDER HEAD RESEARCHER DR. JAMES MICHAELS.
''STATUS: UNKNOWN''
> (link: "Return to Caseload")[(goto: "INDEX")]
> (link: "Begin Analysis")[(set: $CHARACTER_SELECT to 3)(goto: "START")]The lobby of Sublevel-1 is entirely devoid of natural light. Fleeing employees huddle around flashlight-wielders, taking their chances with the spare elevators or rushing upwards to the emergency staircases. A few are bleeding, more are limping, or bruised.
(link: "The doctor buries herself deeper within the crowd.")[(go-to: "GREY-CD")]Deeper into the facility Friendel goes, the thinner the crowds become. The electrical systems sustaining the underground tunnels forego emergency lighting in favour of pumping air. Without anything to see by, she moves with her hands stretched outwards. You squint at the screen, trying to make out details for yourself. After a certain point, all you can hear is the sound of shuffling, punctuated by deep bassy rumbles as the very foundations shook.
The dark seems to unnerve Friendel, as well. She begins to speak to herself.
"He can't have gone far. He can't have made it out already, not like this..." The voice fades out, so you switch to the next camera over. "...just have to find him. They'll see."
"DON'T MOVE!" You jump as a loud booming voice pours out of the speakers. Friendel shrieks. The screen is still black.
"I-I'm not moving! I can't see! I'm on your side!"
The male voice swears, and you hear shuffling and clunking sounds.
"We'll see about that."
Something sparks; a flashlight attached to a semi-automatic rifle flicks on, clearly damaged. The light bounces, and exposes not one, but three figures tensed up and facing Friendel. Their vivid orange jumpsuits and general scruffy demeanour immediately mark them as 'Class-D'; death-row inmates signed on to do volunteer work for the Foundation. In exchange, of course, for a lighter sentence.
One of them was braced against the staircase that lead downwards, and a dark patch of red stained their jumpsuit. All three of them are armed to a degree, but bloodied, injured, and visibly wet, a strange slick covering their clothes up to their stomachs. Friendel appears to realise something, and opens her mouth.
(link: "She's unarmed, and no real threat to them at all.")[(go-to: "CD-UNARMED")]
(link: "They are meant to have an armed escort. What happened to their party?")[(go-to: "CD-ESCORT")]
(link: "The only way they could've been in the lowest sublevel is if someone let them.")[(go-to: "CD-TIME")]
(set: $INJURED to False)
(set: $ALLIED to False)The camera in the elevator refuses to work. The microphone is still hot, however, and you can hear ragged, uneven breathing. The low grind of the elevator's mechanisms dull the whining klaxons.
(link: "The elevator chimes.")[(go-to: "GREY-1")]
(set: $SPARED to False)INDEX
> CASE-FILE 140620: DR. ANNA [[FREINDEL]] – LEVEL TWO, ASSISTANT RESEARCHER.(if: $MOOD is "OPTIMISTIC")[`You’ve seen Foundationers pick themselves up from worse. Before the PhDs, the years of research, development, invitation to the organisation, there’s need for good sense. With any luck, she got caught somewhere in the lockdown, and is just biding her time.`]\
(if: $MOOD is "FATALISTIC")[`Hours of drills can never prepare you for the real thing; only a facsimile of it. You know the only thing stopping the [UNKNOWN] on your briefing from being a [DECEASED] is the lack of a body. A body that, with what the circumstances are now, is likely your job to find.`]
(link: "Keep looking.")[(goto: "INTRO_DANTE_BRIEFING_B")]A frame of a humanoid figure is held frozen in `D_BRIEF_B`’s viewfinder. The lights are dim, but still reveal the face of one Dr. Anna Friendel, face turned ghostly white by the laptop screen before her. She’s tensed up, which is odd. The breach hasn’t begun yet.
Well, not too odd. Half of the Foundation’s job is discovering new and awful things to be worried about.
Your finger hovers over the spacebar. You know you cannot change what is about to happen. (if: $MOOD is "OPTIMISTIC")[`You're ready to see some training kick in.`](if: $MOOD is "FATALISTIC")[`You hope you’re about to be proven wrong.`]
(link: "PRESS PLAY")[(goto: "DANTE_BRIEFING_B")]D-CLASS PERSONNEL. FULFILLED 28/32 MONTHS OF VOLUNTEERED SENTENCE. OBJECTS 382, 1384, 2350-A ASSIGNED TO ROTATION.
''STATUS: UNKNOWN''
> (link: "Return to Caseload")[(goto: "INDEX")]
> (link: "Begin Analysis")[(set: $CHARACTER_SELECT to 2)(goto: "START")]Friendel hears Michael's voice ahead. She signals for the CDs to wait in hiding.
He's not alone. There's a man with him, black cropped hair and a dark suit. He's armed, holding a blocky yellow weapon with black caution stripes along the body. It appears to be some sort of taser. They're exchanging precious few words between them, and seem to be heading to the stairs.
(link: "Try to disarm the suit's weapon.")[(go-to: "MICHAELS-DISARM")]
(link: "Declare Michaels a traitor, responsible for the breach.")[(go-to: "MICHAELS-TRAITOR")]
(set: $ALLIED to True)"STOP!"
Dr. Michaels and the suit freeze. The suit swings the barrel of his taser to point at Dr. Friendel.
"That man is a traitor! He's stolen an object from containment, and intends to sell it. You're just helping him!"
Michaels has a sneer on his face, angry at the interruption. He looks to unleash some biting words, but a hand from the suit holds him back.
"James, please." He turns to face Friendel. "And you expect me to trust you? There are possible insurgents running amok, and worse creatures clawing their way out as we speak."
(link: "The emails left behind on his laptop")[(go-to: "MICHAELS-EMAILS")]
(link: "He requisitioned CDs late at night to get into the lower levels and abandoned the escort before the breach.")[(go-to: "MICHAELS-REQUISITION")]You are part of the investigation team looking into the catastrophic breach failure that occurred in the Foundation’s heaviest containment site: the infamous Area 14. The statistics speak for themselves: 234 dead, 29 injured, 80 unknown.
Your supervisor has tasked you and your team with tracking the footage captured from cameras to determine the location of the unknown, determining how- or if- they can be recovered.
> (link: "Choose your first case.")[(goto: "INDEX")]Friendel hurries over to the door and pauses, as if she's second guessing. The doctor draws herself up, and–
(link: "Knocks three times, hard.")[(go-to: "OFFSHOOT_KNOCK")]
(link: "Tries to put her foot through the door.")[(go-to: "OFFSHOOT_KICK")]That didn't work.
Friendel suddenly seems a lot less composed, as if disregarding evacuation protocol and trying to get into her superior's office mid-crisis was just run-of-the-mill behaviour up to this point. Her hand finds purchase on her phone, and she grips it tightly, thinking.
After a few minutes, the doctor seems to perk up again, albeit more dishevelled than before. She…
(link: "…turns heel, and starts heading toward the exits.")[(set: $SUBTIME to 4))(goto: "DANTE_NORTH_CORRIDOR")]
(link: "…ducks beneath the camera, toward the elevator complex.")[(set: $SUBTIME to 5))(goto: "DANTE_ELEVATORS")]Friendel hurries over to the door, clutching the card with white-knuckled hands.
(link: "She presses it to the reader, breath held.")[(go-to: "OFFSHOOT_CARD")]The microphone picks up a quiet //click//.
Friendel's shoulders are bunched so tightly you can't see her face, but there's a definite loosening of posture, a momentary relief. She takes the handle and swings the door open.
There's no camera inside Dr. Michaels' office. Perhaps an oversight; or a privacy feature. Friendel doesn't bother turning on the lights inside, so you can only see a shifting as she moves about in the small space. She seems to pocket something small: a USB driver, or similar. Wherever Michaels is, he's not here.
You're so focused on trying to pick out the details in the dark that you recognise the figure coming around the corner only a second before Friendel sees.
(link: "Your fingers find the pause button before your brain does.")[(go-to: "OFFSHOOT_KEYCARD_PAUSE")]
(link: "You let the footage run on.")[(go-to: "OFFSHOOT_CES")](if: $TIMEBLOCK is 1)[You press play, and the scene springs back into motion.]
The figure rounds the corner, and freezes up.
"Hey, STOP!" She barks. "What the hell are you doing?"
The tension in the room immediately spikes, Friendel with her hand caught in the cookie-jar of all cookie-jars, and the (if: $TIMEBLOCK is 1)[suited] stranger reaching into her (if: $TIMEBLOCK is 1)[suit] jacket– possibly armed, or worse. The entire scene is bathed in a deep red from the emergency lights, alarms droning on and on. The shadow in the office that represents Dr. Friendel has a decision to make.
(link: "She'd run, of course. Whatever goals this Doctor is pursuing, righteous or not, she's trying to do it unseen.")[(go-to: "OFFSHOOT_CES_RUN")]
(link: "The figure may be armed. Hiding from civilians is one thing, but it might be better now if she plays along.")[(go-to: "OFFSHOOT_CES_STAY")]It all happens so quickly that the stuttery framerate of the capturing camera stumbles over itself to keep up. Friendel, in a startling burst of agility, launches forward and //into// the stranger, using momentum to knock them off balance. The stranger clearly isn't equipped for this, either, and topples over, hitting the back of her head //hard// on the white brick wall.
She crumples against the concrete floor, doubled over and disoriented, and doesn't get back up.
(link: "Friendel flees.")[(go-to: "HOSTILE-SL1")]Friendel freezes, with her hands raised to her shoulders.
"Look," Friendel begins, slowly. "I know what this looks like."
The figure makes no moves to advance, instead pulling out something from the inside of their coat jacket. It's a bulky, square shaped firearm, made out of caution yellow plastic and black stripes. A standard issue taser- for noncombatants vital enough to need something for self defence.
"It looks like you're stealing." The stranger's words are clipped. "It looks like you're taking advantage of the breach to take what you can from the office of a senior researcher, and now you've been caught. You know how this ends."
"I'm with the Foundation, and I'm not your enemy." Friendel worries her bottom lip against her teeth. "I'm //not// behind the breach- but I //swear//, I know someone is using it right now to do something //very bad//." She squints at the figure in the low light. "...and I don't know you."
The figure shrugs, but it doesn't come off as smoothly as it should. "It's a big site. You can't know everybody." Regardless, she lowers her taser a fraction. "You can call me Sierra. Does this //'somebody'// have something to do with the office you're going through right now?"
The doctor nods.
"I found- I work underneath him, Dr. Michaels." Her hands lower, and turn on the light in the office. "He's been acting strangely. Our project, 8898? It's a pathogen that doesn't follow the laws of conservation of mass. He barely took any interest in leading the team, up until a couple months prior. Then, out of nowhere, a massive switch in focus. We weren't working on the sample to try and neutralise it's symptoms, or reduce transmission; we were //improving// it. Making a bioweapon, for no good reason.
Of course we noticed. We're juniors and assistants, but we're not //stupid//. We looked into the paperwork where we could, tried to find out who signed off on the shift, but you've tried to get 'non-essential' information out of the Foundation before- it's a goddamn nightmare. Doubly so if your clearance level starts with (link: "one.")[(go-to: "OFFSHOOT_CES_STAY2")]"Curiosity drives you. Perhaps this was an agent of chaos, or the potential saboteur? You didn't want to flag anything before being sure.
The software accepts the extended parameters with nothing but a beep. Using facial records for the Northern Hemisphere was- perhaps- a little overkill, but you were wasting enough time as is without running multiple operations on smaller datasets.
It begins to chug away, parsing through as many staff profiles per second as your poor work PC could handle.
(link: "No reason you can't multitask.")[(go-to: "OFFSHOOT_CES")]The frame freezes, taking you out of the scene. You take a minute to pause, reviewing the facial recognition software to see who the figure was. It seizes up a little: between the godawful quality and other camera warping, it makes the software tetchy. You decide to conduct a little analysis for yourself.
The figure's build is feminine, with a shock of silver-white hair cut short to the temple. She's older than Friendel, but not nearly old enough to be grey all the way through. Standing almost half a head taller than the doctor, the oddest thing about her is her clothing. DANTE is historically a research site– which makes the formally cut black suit and tie even more out of place.
You frown. What is someone dressed like her doing here?
Facial recognition makes an unhappy noise, and times out. The software declares that it cannot find a match against Area 14's database, and advises you to get a better angle.
(set: $TIMEBLOCK to 1)
(link: "Maybe you could broaden the search parameters?")[(go-to: "OFFSHOOT_KEYCARD_DATABASE")]
(link: "Getting through this footage is more important.")[(go-to: "OFFSHOOT_CES")]Dr. Friendel is no doubt a skilled microbiologist and ecologist. It takes more than a tolerance for the abnormal to be headhunted by the Foundation. None of those traits, however, make up for the fact that she's on the lower end of five foot, and has been saddled to lab work for the majority of her life.
(link: "Nothing beyond a loud sound results from her attempt.")[(go-to: "OFFSHOOT_BREAKIN2")]Beyond the wail of sirens, no noise from inside can be heard. Friendel waits, and then puts her ear to the door, in disbelief. Nothing happens.
(link: "She wilts, like a flower.")[(go-to: "OFFSHOOT_BREAKIN2")]This is the END of this particular route so far. Thank you for testing :)
[[TITLE]]It takes a little manoeuvring: labelling Area 14 gargantuan would be doing the multi-acre blacksite a disservice. Each residential camera is scoured: she's nowhere to be found.
Exhuasting your options leads you to Site DANTE.
DANTE, named for the various access points to the cavernous containment levels below, is about as close to the breach a civilian personnel could get without breaking some serious access codes.
The good doctor’s proximity to ground zero does not bode well.
THOUGHT:
`[RESOLVE]` (link: "No one’s hardier than a Foundationer.")[(set: $MOOD to "OPTIMISTIC")(goto: "INTERNAL1")]
`[EXPERIENCE]` (link: "It may be wise to brace for a body.")[(set: $MOOD to "FATALISTIC")(goto: "INTERNAL1")]LIAISON FOR DEPARTMENT OF EXTERNAL RELATIONS. VISITING ON BEHALF OF ER DIRECTOR FOR MEETINGS. SCHEDULED TO LEAVE 8 HOURS BEFORE INCIDENT BEGAN.
''STATUS: UNKNOWN''
> (link: "Return to Caseload")[(goto: "INDEX")]
> (link: "Begin Analysis")[(set: $CHARACTER_SELECT to 1)(goto: "START")]You click into the file, and a camera archive feed opens up in a new window.
The program is rudimentary at best; Area 14 was in dire need of a surveillance upgrade before the breach. 22:23– Containment failure, and according to the record, the official beginning of the breach. You click back a couple of minutes, just before the lights cut out, and begin searching the footage.
First step: \
(if: $CHARACTER_SELECT is 1)[ (link: "Find the Subject.")[(goto: "SUBLEVEL_0_NORTH")]]\
(if: $CHARACTER_SELECT is 2)[ (link: "Find the Subject.")[(goto: "SUBLEVEL_2_SOUTH")]]\
(if: $CHARACTER_SELECT is 3)[ (link: "Find the Subject.")[(goto: "SCD_FORCESTART")]]The late-night hustlers are all filtering out through the reception doors, to the dark outside. Everyone except for Dr. Friendel, who seems paralyzed by the exits. The angle of the camera only shows the back of her head, but her posture says it all: she doesn’t want to leave.
This camera is rigged with a microphone: with the confusion of the masses slowly diminishing, you begin to hear something else. One voice, elevated above the din, sharp tone demanding attention, or authority. You flick back to the hallway camera, but they’re not in eyeshot, yet. Friendel turns her head, muscle in her jaw set and expression stony.
She...
(link: "...looks like she wants answers.")[(go-to: "reception_talk1")]
(link: "...looks like she doesn’t want to be seen.")[(go-to: "reception_hide1")]And the doctor acts accordingly, ducking into the bathrooms.
Seconds later, the voice comes into view. He’s visibly older, with a scruffy, peppery beard and eyebrows that nearly crest the hairline. By his side are two other labcoats, junior, who are anxiously bent over and whispering to each other.
(link: "They pass the bathrooms, beyond the sliding doors and out into the night.")[(go-to: "reception_keycard")]When you track the camera back to Friendel, she hasn't gone far. Elbow-deep into a number of records and disorganised drawers, she routles through the office of the grounds director, looking for something.
She makes a pleased sound, and emerges from a filing cabinet, plastic keycard in hand. An electric purple band is emblazoned across the PVC, and a metallic chip glistens under the emergency lighting. You recognise it as a high-level keycard– one that the doctor has absolutely zero business stealing. With this, she could get access into any room, any installation, any building– and you have a lingering suspicion about which door she intends to use it on.
(link: "The office of Dr. Michaels")[(go-to: "OFFSHOOT_BREAKIN3")]
(link: "The elevators, and lower installations.")[(go-to: "GREY-SL1")]And she’ll do just about anything to get them.
The voice comes into view, seemingly slowing at the sight of Friendel, a rock in the river, doing nothing to save herself.
(link: "You turn the volume up…")[(go-to: "reception_talk2")]He’s visibly older, with a scruffy, peppery beard and eyebrows that nearly crest the hairline. Facial recognition flags him as Dr. Smirnov– senior researcher, and lead on three different research projects. By his side are two other labcoats, junior, anxiously bent over and whispering to each other. They stop as he stops, but he waves them forward and out of the exits without a backwards glance.
"You’re one of Michaels’ coats, aren’t you?" His face is half captured by the camera, pinched. "Fresnel, was it?" He frowns. "This–" he gestures upwards, to the wailing klaxons "–is not a good time to stop."
"Friendel, sir. Dr. Friendel." She looks down the northern hallway. "With all due respect, sir, I need to understand the situation. What's triggered the alarms?" She pauses. The Senior Researcher looks unconvinced.
(link: "<q>It's a special project for Dr. Michaels.</q>")[(go-to: "reception_talk2_michaels")]
(link: "<q>I'm acting on behalf of the Site Director.</q>")[(go-to: "reception_talk2_director")]
(link: "She remains silent.")[(go-to: "reception_talk2_silence")]He raises his eyebrows.
"Reiser is sending assistants into hell, now?" The gruff tone of his voice betrays both incredulity and disapproval. "That wasn't in the last meeting. Nice try, kid." He reaches over to herd Friendel toward the exit. The doctor is bristling at being caught in the act, but seems to be holding her tongue. You feel little sympathy; she's making //your// job more difficult as well.
"With me, now. I won't have you risking yourself for a little curiosity."
(link: "Still, unmoving...")[(go-to: "reception_talk3_stay")]The two are silent for a long moment that stretches outwards.
Finally, he speaks.
"One of the big ones got loose in Sublevel-2. 10238, I'm told. Whole place is starting to flood, and it's taking out the systems as it goes. Some are suspecting sabotage: these systems have been watertight for decades, and one dry day the grid and pressure locking fails in the same day?
It's just not probable. It's nonsensical. And regardless of whatever goose chase Michaels is sending you on, it's not worth suffering an interrogation from the Task Forces when they come to lock down the place. Trust me on that one."
It's evident that the Doctor is stressed. Balanced on the fine line between evacuation and vital intel, the bags under his eyes are pronounced.
"Come with me, Dr. Friendel. There's no need to risk yourself for whatever's crawling out down there."
(link: "Still, unmoving...")[(go-to: "reception_talk3_stay")]"There's a breach down in Sublevel-2." His brows just cover his eyes as he frowns.
"You're going to be in the way of the Task Forces when they set up a perimeter if you linger any longer. Just follow the damn procedure. This is no time for scientific inquiry: we'll have plenty of time to puzzle out details in the debrief. You and the rest of high command. Now move it, let's go!"
(link: "Still, unmoving...")[(go-to: "reception_talk3_stay")]Friendel moves with the Senior Researcher, leaving the building. It takes less than a second for the both of them to disappear well out of sight of the cameras. They would've met up at one of the rendezvous points, then have been evacuated by arriving Mobile Task Forces.
You frown.
//So why is Friendel missing?//
(link: "KEEP LOOKING")[(go-to: "ROADBLOCK")]Friendel holds herself up, poised. Considering. The senior researcher is obviously at his limit, and opens his mouth again to speak.
Before he has the chance to, she ducks under his arm and hurries south, away from the exits. He yells after her, but does not pursue. Instead, he holds a walkie-talkie to his mouth, speaking low and fast. A tinny response comes in from the speakers– he turns fully and hurries out of the door, into the night.
(link: "Find her.")[(go-to: "reception_keycard")]AREA 14
This experience ''may'' contain:
* Institutional Abuse
* Systemic Execution
* Claustrophobia
* Thalassophobia
* Nosophobia
* Blood & Injury
* Gun Violence
* Death
\
(if: $JAW or $AP or $TBI or $TWTMBD or $O58 is true)[ENDINGS UNLOCKED /5:]
(if: $JAW is true)[JUST ANOTHER WEAPON]
(if: $AP is true)[AGENT PROVOCATEUR]
(if: $TBI is true)[THE BIGGER ISSUE]
(if: $TWTMBD is true)[THE WORK THAT MUST BE DONE]
(if: $O58 is true)[FROM THE DESK OF O5-8]
[[BEGIN]] Friendel hears Michael's voice ahead.
He's not alone. There's a man with him, black cropped hair and a dark suit. He's armed, holding a blocky yellow weapon with black caution stripes along the body. It appears to be some sort of taser. They're exchanging precious few words between them, and seem to be heading to the stairs.
(link: "Try to disarm the suit's weapon.")[(go-to: "MICHAELS-DISARM")]
(link: "Declare Michaels a traitor, responsible for the breach.")[(go-to: "MICHAELS-TRAITOR")]
(set: $ALLIED to False)Without much pre-empting, Friendel springs for the suited man. There's a brief scuffle, but with the distance between them the suit manages to tase Friendel. She lets out a shout, and collapses to the ground, twitching.
The coated figure that must be Dr. Michaels steps forward, looking down at Friendel. The suited man speaks, still reeling from the attack. "Jesus. I suppose that confirms your theory about insurgents."
"We should take no chances." Dr. Michaels is firm. "Use your handgun. Put her down. I know you executive-types always carry a live one."
The man turns to Michaels, clearly frustrated. "I don't know where you get that thought, but absolutely not."
"Asana–"
"No. We've had this conversation. My priority is evacuating you and anyone lingering up top. Out of the question."
(if: $ALLIED is False)[(link: "Friendel isn't moving.")[(go-to: "GREY-TASED")]]\
\
\(if: $ALLIED is True)[All of a sudden, a loud, familiar voice yells out.
"ON THE GROUND, NOW!"
The Class-D seem to have taken matters into their own hands. Michael and 'Asana' raise their hands, the latter's taser clattering to the floor. Friendel manages to prop herself up on one elbow, ripping the taser pins out of her shoulder.
She's exhausted, yes, but also relieved. Her head lolls back.
[(link: "<q>Thank you. Really.</q>")[(go-to: "Crossroads_AP_O5")]]]
Friendel turns to Dr. Michaels. "Does a seller sound familiar? How about Marshall, Carter & Dark?" Michaels seems undeterred.
"Anna, you've been trying to get into my personal information for months. HR knows all about it, and they're even less impressed. Isn't it funny how you're down here, while this is going on?"
Worse, the suit looks unconvinced. Dr. Friendel moves forward, aggravated. "Have some SENSE! You really think that you can just sell to the highest bidder?"
"No." Michaels mutters. "But I think you can. I think that's just why you're down here, to try to make some money out of the chaos." He turns to the suit. "Asana. We don't know how many more are with her. If we want to make it out, we need to do it quickly."
Asana looks conflicted, but something seems to shift. In a skipped frame, he raises the taser once more, and fires two charged pins into Dr. Friendel's shoulder.
(if: $ALLIED is True)[All of a sudden, a loud, familiar voice yells out.
"ON THE GROUND, NOW!"
The Class-D seem to have taken matters into their own hands. Michael and 'Asana' raise their hands, the latter's taser clattering to the floor. Friendel manages to prop herself up on one elbow, ripping the taser pins out of her shoulder.
She's exhausted, yes, but also relieved. Her head lolls back.
[(link: "<q>Thank you. Really.</q>")[(go-to: "Crossroads_AP_O5")]]]\
\
(if: $ALLIED is False)[(link: "Friendel isn't moving.")[(go-to: "GREY-TASED")]]"Class D. Sound familiar, Michaels?" He twitches. "Everyone with the ability to requisition them knows when curfew is. And yet you abandoned them as soon as you got down to Sublevel-2. There are packs of Class D roaming around with stolen weapons because of you."
The suit twists to face Michaels. "I did see that on the logs. Which object did you need them for?" Michaels looks blankly at her, speaking almost automatically.
"8432."
Something in the suit's expression shutters.
"I found you in the north-west corridor. 8432 is in the south-east."
It happens so fast you almost need to replay it. Michaels uses his proximity to shove the suit back, and reaches into his pocket. He holds something small and glassy, and holds it above his head like a grenade.
(link: "Friendel swears loudly as soon as she sees it. <q>You won't.</q>")[(go-to: "MICHAELS-AMPULE")]She's very still for a long time.
By the time she's able to move, the floor is covered in a wet substance, and Michaels is long gone.
(link: "You close the feed, and prepare to make a call.")[(go-to: "The Bigger Issue")]It's days later when your supervisor comes back into the room. They're in no better shape than you are; lines are pressed against their face, and you don't even want to think about how many stimulants are holding them up.
"It's heinous." They begin. "The biggest crossbreach in decades. Hell- even some of the directors have never seen a disaster of this magnitude before."
"How are the task forces managing it?" You ask, similarly hollowed out.
Your supervisor rubs a hand across their face. "We lost Nu-7. The whole platoon. By the time you reported 8898 to command, half of the squad were already... 'filling their containers'. They had no way to prepare for that kind of contagion. It was just meant to be 'shoot down the big beast and get out'. Word is that Beta-7 will be on it before long, but without Nu-7's firepower to disable 10238..."
"It's gonna be a helluva year."
Your supervisor offers you a grim smile.
(link: "<q>That it will. I hope you're prepared to do it again.</q>")[(set: $JAW to True)(go-to: "TITLE")]Friendel dives for it. Her right leg gives out underneath her, thigh spasming and bleeding. The glass meets the ground, and in a fraction of a second the camera fritzes out. Gold, then white, then black as the system fails.
The microphone lasts a second longer, and picks up a ragged, raw sound that you hope isn't screaming. Something //crumples//. The microphone pops and dies.
(link: "Oh, God.")[(go-to: "Just Another Weapon")]Friendel dives for it. Despite how battered she must feel, the leap takes her forward far enough to fall underneath the impact, and catch it. She holds the ampule like it's the most repulsive thing in the world, but she //has// it.
Asana looks just about boneless with relief, and wastes no time in tasing Dr. Michaels to the floor. He looks back and forth, from the rogue doctor to Friendel, ampule in hand.
(link: "<q>Let's go.</q>")[(go-to: "The Work That Must Be Done")]Friendel dives for it. Despite how battered she must feel, the leap takes her forward far enough to fall underneath the impact, and catch it. She holds the ampule like it's the most repulsive thing in the world, but she //has// it.
Asana looks just about boneless with relief, and wastes no time in tasing Dr. Michaels to the floor. He clutches his wounded shoulder and howls with pain. He looks back and forth, from the rogue doctor to the battered prisoners and finally Friendel, ampule in hand.
(link: "<q>Let's go.</q>")[(go-to: "Crossroads_AP_O5")]Days later, your supervisor knocks on your door and comes inside.
They smile. "I have a visitor for you."
A familiar face comes through the door. Dr Friendel: exhausted-looking, but //alive//.
She speaks before you do. "When I woke up in Medical and they told me I hadn't been found by a squad, but someone manning a camera, I couldn't believe it." She smiles. It's an odd expression on her face, after everything you've seen.
(link: "<q>I would do it again.</q>")[(set: $TWTMBD to True)(go-to: "TITLE")]With precious little else to say, the two duck out of the hall, out of sight. You find them in the elevator complex, talking away. The camera inside the elevator is shot, but the microphone is still hot.
"...I can clear the way. Like I said, first priority is comms."
Friendel speaks, terse. "If he's planned this, then every second wasted is in his favour."
Sierra sounds placating. "We can split, then. Once comms are up, I'll radio in for backup. Michael's face is plastered all over Foundation databanks. He can't go far if the manhunt starts now."
"Do you have a better short-term solution? Something like… a local lockdown, or something?"
Sierra makes an unhappy noise. "The site's a sitting duck until the emergency generators kick on. Nothing beyond basic life support is gonna be running down here."
Silence stretches on.
"Though…"
"Though?"
"There are backup servers nestled in the heart of the barracks. They might contain enough power to close a couple doors, at the very least."
[[DANTE-HANGAR]] Sierra seems peturbed, but does not try to convince Friendel further.
"My main priority is getting the communications array back online. No communications means no evacuation. And no evacuation..."
"...means no survival." Friendel finishes. She nods, weary.
"Go. I'll be right behind you." Sierra, hesitates a moment longer, and walks out of shot.
The walk to the elevator complex is uninterrupted.
The camera in the elevator refuses to work. The microphone is still hot, however, and you can hear ragged, uneven breathing. The low grind of the elevator's mechanisms dull the whining klaxons.
(link: "The elevator chimes.")[(go-to: "GREY-1")]Michaels has a grim expression on his face that looks like it could give way to a smile. "I would." He confirms. "The Foundation was never going to stop hounding me if I followed through. At least this way it won't be trapped here forever. Sorry, Asana." He nods at the suit.
He's holding an ampule, about the length of his hand. Something that looks like liquid gold swirls within it.
"James." Friendel starts. She seems almost desperate. "If you break that, it won't stop with us. It will expand to fit in the container it's given. You've done the tests– hell, you //ordered// the tests. The subjects don't stop hurting. This constitutes the end of the world."
"Which is why–" he grits, through his teeth. "-you're going to let me walk. You're going to do more than let me walk: you're going to give me that taser, Asana, and not move."
(if: $ALLIED is False)[
(link: "Let him walk.")[(go-to: "The Bigger Issue")]
(if: $INJURED is True)[(link: "Friendel dives for it.")[(go-to: "DIVE-FAIL")]]]
(if: $INJURED is False)[(link: "Friendel dives for it.")[(go-to: "DIVE-SUCCEED")]]
(if: $ALLIED is True)[Just as Friendel is about to speak, the Class D round the corner, and shoot at his shoulder.
(link: "Dive for it.")[(go-to: "SHOULDER-TAP")]]Your supervisor slams down their empty coffee cup. They've been like this, wired up, for two days.
Two days since you found and reported Dr. Friendel's ill-fated quest to stop Dr. Michaels. Two days since she failed.
"Priority's shifting." They say, absently. "They're pulling more people off the search and rescue project. Figure anyone underground that long is more of a body than worth saving."
You look up. "But that's not why they're doing it, is it?"
Your supervisor looks down, mouth pressed into a thin line. "No. It isn't. Intercepting Dr. Michaels is all they care about. You're being reprioritised."
(link: "<q>Let's start the search.</q>")[(set: $TBI to True)(go-to: "TITLE")](if: $INJURED is True)[Days later, your supervisor knocks on your door and comes inside.
They smile. "I have a visitor for you."
In a wheelchair, a familiar face comes through the door. Dr Friendel, with a large bandage wrapped around her right thigh.
She speaks before you do. "When I woke up in Medical and they told me I hadn't been found by a squad, but someone manning a camera, I couldn't believe it." She smiles. It's an odd expression on her face, after everything you've seen. "You didn't just save me, of course."
Behind her, pushing her chair, is someone in a white coat with orange banding. They, too, are familiar: one of the Class D, the one with short brown hair. She doesn't say anything, but there's an almost kindly expression on her face.
(link: "<q>I would do it again.</q>")[(set: $AP to True)(go-to: "TITLE")]]
\
(if: $INJURED is False)[Days later, your supervisor knocks on your door and comes inside.
They smile. "I have a visitor for you."
A familiar face comes through the door. Dr Friendel: exhausted-looking, but //alive//.
She speaks before you do. "When I woke up in Medical and they told me I hadn't been found by a squad, but someone manning a camera, I couldn't believe it." She smiles. It's an odd expression on her face, after everything you've seen.
(link: "<q>I would do it again.</q>")[(set: $AP to True)(go-to: "TITLE")]]It's a few days later when your door opens. Instead of your supervisor, however, it's someone else.
“I’m told you’re the one who found and saved Dr. Friendel, among many.” Sierra sniffs, looking around the dingy office. She’s a lot more intimidating outside of a grainy closed circuit image, sporting a dark suit tailored so sharp it could cut. Any impact the breach had on her had been clearly buffed away, leaving a clean, impregnable appearance.
“Truth be told, your work has done a lot more than find people.” A ghostly smile crosses her face. “I do hope you’re in the market for a promotion.”
(link: "...")[(set: $O58 to True)(go-to: "TITLE")]"But you found something." Sierra has been nodding along to the story the whole time, and the two have shifted enough that you can get a fairly clear read on both faces.
"Only half an hour ago. He didn't secure his laptop after our meeting. Seemed to be in a hurry– and god, no wonder. Plenty of emails between him and some //'unknown benefactor'// securing him a buyer; I got as far as him replying that he was going to secure the sample for them tonight, but then–"
"Then the breach began." Sierra finishes for her, expression shuttered. "If Michaels set off half an hour ago, then he might be in the lower levels already." She turns to the doctor. "You think Michaels is behind the entire breach?"
Friendel tilts her head forward. Her skin looks pallid, and you can see the strain beneath her skin. "I'm not sure. Maybe? I just need to stop him. He's taking my work– //our// work, and //selling it//."
Sierra tucks the taser back into her jacket. "I understand. Let me come with you; I could help with smoothing over any ruffled feathers we might come across down there."
(link: "It would make more sense for Friendel to go at this as a lone agent.")[(go-to: "PINK-SL1")]
(link: "She could use the backup.")[(go-to: "ORANGE-SL1")]The walk to the elevator complex is uninterrupted.
The camera in the elevator refuses to work. The microphone is still hot, however, and you can hear ragged, uneven breathing. The low grind of the elevator's mechanisms dull the whining klaxons.
(link: "The elevator chimes.")[(go-to: "GREY-1")]Friendel takes in the room with wide eyes. She's evidently never seen the black-ops side of the site. A number of helicopters and jets take up the floorspace, peppered with abandoned forklifts and unknown cargo.
[[DANTE-ARMOURY]]
[[DANTE-SERVERROOM]]Friendel makes her way toward the armoury, but Sierra, in a startling show of reflexes, grabs her forearm. “Not a good idea.” She says. The audio quality is rubbish, but you’d recognise a warning from a higher-up like that even through 8-bit. The doctor’s face, a picture of trepidation, is visible from the camera’s angle. The suited woman elaborates:
“We’re in the middle of a breach, with– from what you’ve told me– high likelihood of sabotage. You start openly carrying, and you mark yourself as a threat.” She sighs. “I have a licence to carry, but you certainly do not. The last thing either of us wants is a bullet from a twitchy combative. Understood?”
[[DANTE-SERVERROOM]]Sierra buzzes into the room with her keycard without much fanfare. She does a couple of esoteric things with the controls, and lights from the server rack dim slightly. Friendel hovers over her shoulder, eyes wide.
"Are those cameras?"
"Hm? Oh." Sierra looks to the side, at the screen. Sure enough, a tablet is displaying a dark room. "Must be a closed circuit. Self sustaining. Here, take a look. Maybe you can get a lead on Michaels."
[[8898's Containment Chamber]]
[[Sublevel-2 Emergency Exits]]The room is dead silent. The projection from the server room’s camera feed is a generous handful of pixels, and it flickers as the two scan for evidence of their Dr. Michaels. Finally, they land on a containment chamber, with a white figure within.
Sierra hisses through her teeth.
“Shit.”
Immediately, Friendel clicks to export it. She adds it to the USB in her pocket.
"Alright. I'll go get the communications array." Sierra speaks. "Are you okay to take on Michaels by yourself?"
Friendel waves her off. "I'll be fine. Thank you for this."
"Of course."
Friendel takes a moment to compose herself, and then heads (link: "out.")[(go-to: "GREY-CD")]The room is dead silent. The projection from the server room’s camera feed is a generous handful of pixels, and it flickers as the two scan for evidence of their Dr. Michaels. Finally, they land on a long, dark hallway. A number of figures– too difficult to see how many– are on the screen, and advancing down the hallway warily, weapons in hand. Their orange jumpsuits mark them as Class D; death row inmates volunteering for the Foundation’s research in exchange for a pardon.
The doctor is the first to start. “That’s– not good.”
“Mm. Good thing we have this, then.” She points towards a button and accompanying card slot, the label of which cannot be made out.
Freindel stares at it in silence. The camera angle only shows the back of her head, which is still. “You’d– remote?” She doesn’t seem to have the words.
“It’d remove the danger completely.” The suited woman says. Her expression is steely, but not hostile. “I understand you don’t work with our D-Class in any detailed capacity, yet. This is– it’s not //good//. But in a situation like this, I could certainly call it //necessary//.” She sighs. “They didn’t hire me for the Ethics Committee, Doctor. I can only give you the most pragmatic solution to our problem.”
“In the end, it’s your site. What do you want to do?”
[[Press the Button]]
(link: "Keep looking for Dr. Michaels")[(go-to: "8898's Containment Chamber")(set: $SPARED to True)]You skip ahead a minute, feeling suddenly a little sick.
Friendel obviously feels the same, her back turned to Friendel.
"I think it'd be best if we split, for now."
Sierra looks a little put-out, but makes no protest.
Friendel takes a few moments to compose herself, and heads out of the (link: "door.")[(go-to: "MICHAELS-SOLO")]
(if: $SPARED is true)[(link: "You sit back, reeling from the footage...")[(go-to: "From the desk of O5-8")]]\
(if: $SPARED is false)[(link: "You sit back, reeling from the footage...")[(go-to: "Agent Provocateur")]]