turnout | week 4

week 4

WEEK FOUR

road trip!

As the doctor mentioned, the next leg of your trip is quite long, so walking isn't advised; hopefully, you've all secured alternative methods of travel between the abandoned cars and the wild pack of horses you found last week.

These cars are long abandoned, and most of them still have things like CDs and magazines in the gloveboxes and trunks - so at least you’ll have some entertainment for the trip! Conveniently, music you can find comes from the year 2024 and earlier, because in the Turnout universe, CDs were still widely a thing in modern times because I said so.

Be aware that there are not enough cars and horsies for everyone to go solo; you’ll need to group up and decide who’s driving! And, more notably...

Your drive won't be entirely peaceful! There are bound to be some zombies littering the street, which characters will need to clear in order to keep going. Whether that's through running them over, sniping them with your newfound long-range gun skills, or doing it the old fashioned way by hopping out of the car and beating them to a pulp, they've gotta move! Be careful not to let the horseys get bit.

respite

Whether or not you were suspicious of whatever the “SAFE” marked on the map was supposed to mean, when you come to the coordinates that are marked, you’ll be in front of a door that opens down into the earth — it's a bunker. The entrance is slightly hidden by foliage, seemingly intentionally so.

Inside, it’s obvious this place is not like the places you’ve been traveling to thus far. It’s clean, well stocked, and nicely furnished. Judging by the pictures on the wall, it’s a safe house that’s been used many times by Dr. Bei and her five associates. So, it was built by a bunch of super nerds surviving the apocalypse, meaning that it's pretty well fortified and self sufficient. It seems like the Doctor must have been here at least a few weeks ago, judging by the dust levels and quality of the food.

That means there’s clean running (and hot!) water, as well as a freezer that’s stocked up with some raw meat, vegetables, and a rare ice cream treat. Also in the kitchen are some seasonings and other staples: flour, rice, etc. There are cooking utensils too, of course! Characters well versed in cooking may just be able to throw together a nice feast for everyone.

There’s also, you know. Alcohol. Not a ton of mixers, though!

It seems like the nerds had simple things for means of entertainment: there are some party and card games hidden away in drawers — think pictionary, uno and twister, or other such party games. Of course, only your imagination is holding you back: while you have a safe place to rest, it might be easier to let loose and have fun.

The six rooms in the bunker all have one bed and a connected bathroom - each one is identical but decorated with sparse things, like stray trinkets or a picture frame. Only Dr. Bei's really has anything different about it, because in it, there's still a working computer.

Characters will be able to open basic programs like wordpad, MS paint, or iTunes for music purposes. Like everyone who had iTunes, she has U2 songs on there. There's still no internet, but there are some saved messages from her and another colleague using an alternative connection method.

While exploring, characters can discover a chat log between ♛, which appears to be Dr. Bei's display name, and ♝, another user.

Aside from the beds in the six rooms, there are also sofas and armchairs to rest on.

oops all memshare

While within the safe house, your bracelets will start acting strange. It might have to do with being underground, or perhaps just the highly advanced technology at work down here, but at inopportune times, you’ll find your mind linking with other party members’, especially when initiating physical contact.

When connected to another survivor, you may exchange memories, which may come with 1) the physical sensations you felt at the time, 2) the emotions you felt at the time, or 3) the thoughts you had at that time. Players can be creative with this mechanic and have the memshares be like watching a movie, or physically acted out — whichever is your preference. There’s no prerequisite on the type of memory that might accidentally spill over, and characters may share multiple memories with one person.

According to the map's schedule, you have some time to rest your weary feet from the long ride… you’re not scheduled to leave for two or three days. It seems the Doctor might want you to fill up and face the second half of the trip with your most well rested selves. So, why not relax while you can? What’s the worst that could happen???

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[The oddness that Ninety-Nine perceived in Reiju's body language hasn't fully left her mind, but when the other woman comes quickly out of her reverie, her suspicions relax a little bit. If there was any immediate danger, it wouldn't be so easy to switch off, so she accepts the relaxation. The vigilance she's kept for the past several weeks never fully leaves, however. Any exhaustion and injury that have been piling up over that time remain guarded.]

It's complicated, [she agrees. Like many basic chores, cooking is something that she's struggled to grasp. Packaged foods had kept her alive for a long time.] Do you know how to cook?

No, but Haru taught me a few things. I've always been served.

[She doesn't have strong feelings about cooking in and of itself. It was something she mustn't do, so she didn't. As of late, though, the need has shifted.]

Do you?

...

... I'm learning.

[Ninety-Nine isn't the most emotive individual when she isn't in the middle of the rampage, but perhaps Reiju can hear the tribulations of broken dishes, burned food, and no shortage of inedible accidents in the kitchen. "I'm learning" contains multitudes; at least it sounds like she has earnestly given it some effort.]

Are you rich?

[If anything, it's the pause that paints the vague picture. Reiju has little in the way of mishaps in the kitchen to imagine something more vivid, but she gathers that it's been difficult—and that Ninety-Nine is trying.]

I am. Unfortunately, there's only so much money can buy in a situation like this one.

[Not to mention that she hasn't access to the funds here.]

It can't really get you anything. [She grunts a little bit at the confirmation that Reiju has plenty of money wherever she comes from. The wealthy look down from the "safe" part of the city on people like her, but here, they're both scrounging around for something they can turn into a meal.]

We're all the same here. [That's not entirely true: There are those of them who have different skills and who are better at surviving under certain circumstances, whether that's scavenging or fighting or sneaking in under the goodwill of others. When it comes to the advantages of money, there's nothing that would have made this past leg of their journey easier.] But when there are more people around, it might... Do you think rich people will pay to get what's in that bottle first?

[Ninety-Nine is right. Money means nothing in a world that isn't driven by its currency. Everything to their names has been stolen or given to them, such that anyone who insists on the superiority granted by power and wealth would be foolish.]

Yes, if it's sold to turn a profit. It's natural for those with the means to grapple for survival first.

[There are, however, always exceptions.]

Then everybody who's hurting the most is just going to suffer more.

[The world isn't fair, and she knows that well enough. Being born into an unfair world will do that. Some people are optimistic about saving or fixing it or making it better, but Ninety-Nine isn't one of them. But she's someone who wants to understand the world better and see more of it, so she can't help but listen to the people who try.

Still, the reality of the situation doesn't make her feel better about their "mission" or about the actual end goal, and some aggression creeps into her voice. They're just being used—the reward Dr. Bei promised them isn't treasure; it's a cattle prod.

She needs that someone with more optimism of the world that can be saved more than ever, but that sentiment seems thinner and thinner the further they all go.]

[She nods.]

Then we'd better hope whoever handles the contents of that container is more interested in sharing than commercializing them. [If there's anyone left.] Unless you plan on overseeing the aftermath yourself?

[They're not meant to stick around for what follows the mission. Reiju is curious; just how far does Ninety-Nine's sentiment extend?]

No. [She answers quickly, sure of herself. Ninety-Nine's anger at their circumstances overrides any sympathy she feels for the people who call this place home or for the beautiful world she thinks might have existed on the other side of the apocalypse. Her world was plunged into darkness well before she was born; there is no going back.]

There are no chains, but I'm a prisoner here. When I'm free, I won't stop.

[The inverse possibility is also true: If there isn't anything left and their entire journey evens up having been in vain, she won't stop in her rampage against the walls confining them.]

[Either way, Ninety-Nine won't stop. She seems particularly stubborn in that way. In the context of this conversation, it makes the corner of Reiju's lips quirk upward.]

Nor should you.

[And perhaps because of the context, a memory of freedom then flows through the link inadvertently bridged by the bracelets.]

[Ninety-Nine doesn't exactly take well to being thrust into the unfamiliar zone of someone else's memory. It ignites an instinct to fight or flee within her, and it takes a few moments for her to really ground herself and not try to struggle against the boundaries of the vision, to try and tear down those confectionary walls herself. Reiju's continued presence and the lingering feelings of fondness toward her brother draw Ninety-Nine back into the experience.

It's an infirmary, she realizes idly, despite Reiju having said she's difficult to harm. The location is not nearly as important as the rest of it. She's been modified, she says, in a way that implies it's too late for her, as everything goes on the line to protect someone so important to her. Ninety-Nine doesn't really understand family, but she feels it all the same.]

Are you also...? [She starts to speak toward the shade of the person, whether that's still the shimmering picture of Reiju in the hospital awaiting her own death or the very real one standing next to her in the kitchen. Is she also someone who saw a monster past the point of no return?]

[The transition startles Reiju, who responds to the surprise in the same way she did when the bracelets had pressed the two of them together by tensing—only, this time, she doesn't relax as an intimate memory replays before her eyes.

Like this, she can study each minute shift in her brother's face as it contorts and twists under the weight of everything he feels. He has always felt more than the lot of them, foolish yet pure in his earnestness. Her own words, inconsequential and redundant, sound distant to her ears.

And then there's Ninety-Nine. Reiju's eyes slide shut as she remembers where she is.

"Also" . . .

There's one thing about Ninety-Nine that has always stood out to Reiju. There's also no point in playing coy any longer.]

. . . Our father wanted his sons to be born as monsters, and that's what they became. As the prototype, I suppose the same could be said for me as well.

[Even if it wasn't explicitly felt or stated by Reiju's memory, the scene that surrounded them leaves Ninety-Nine feeling trapped, even with the jailbreak happening. She remembers what it was like to have never considered freedom and to think that she was beyond help. It tightens her chest with an anxiety that wishes it could thrash through everyone and everything between them and the safety outside.]

Then we're the same. They used my blood to spread Mania to others. A perfect creation...

[But she had been able to defy the scientists who kept her locked away in the end, even if she needed someone like Reiju to tell her, over and over again, what she was capable of having.]

Did he get his freedom? [Did she?]

[Perhaps they are. Whatever Mania is, Ninety-Nine seems to have led an unusual existence. Unlike her brothers and Ninety-Nine, however, Reiju knows she's far from perfect by any set of standards.

Unlike Ninety-Nine, she neither dreams of nor pursues freedom even now. Still, her eyes crinkle as she smiles with no small amount of pride.]

He did. Once he saved us, he ran with everything he had. And I struck down anyone who tried to stop him.

[Even she can feel the pride; even Ninety-Nine can understand that it was only his escape that mattered to Reiju at that moment. Being with him was less important than knowing he was free with people who understood him.]

And you stayed? Doesn't he want the same for you?

[Maybe it's more complicated than that. She crosses her arms over her chest. Maybe she doesn't have to understand. It's the first time she's really seen Reiju smile like this - in a way that's more than confidence and strength.]

Sanji has never asked me for anything.

[If he wants her to leave, Reiju wouldn't know. Besides, he has no obligations to their family. Much as she loves him for having a heart, she can't say that she understands it very well. He's always surprised her in that way.

Her smile eases into something more neutral. She's been reaping what she's sown; staying was only natural.]

I stayed with my family. That's all.

But he... [should want to bring you with him. She grunts, consternated with her lack of understanding, and draws up short. The unfamiliarity that creases the skin between her brows is obvious. The mind of a Sinner often struggles with thinking in absolutes; fixation has a tendency to make other options cloudy and obfuscated. Now that Ninety-Ninety knows freedom and knows the toll of being brought up solely to be a monster, it's difficult to wrap her mind around someone who would reject it on purpose.

Perhaps all of Reiju's family is not like her father, the one who wanted monsters in the first place. Perhaps there are things she's done, on purpose or on accident, that can't be recovered from. Perhaps Ninety-Nine could understand that.]

Do you still think you should die?

[ . . . is beholden to nothing, she finishes inwardly. He saved her life once. Any imagined debt on his end is now as good as paid. To expect more from him would be out of place—cruel, even. It would be better if they were to never see each other again.

But she understands, maybe. Her stance is radically different from Ninety-Nine's where freedom is concerned, hence the firm set of her brow. Ninety-Nine would see that freedom shared, and that's a good, kind thing; it just isn't meant for everyone.]

Yes.

[There's no point in keeping her sentiments on the matter under wraps—not after what Ninety-Nine has witnessed.]

At the end of the day, I'm still part of an organization that's been built on bloodshed. As my father's accomplice, I ought to be destroyed alongside it.

[She doesn't necessarily believe that. Wasn't Reiju used, too? The real revenge would be to tear it down and go on to thrive - to live in a world built in the wake of that organization would be a chance to be more than what her father made her.

But she wasn't hidden from the sun the way Ninety-Nine was, as far as she can tell. Maybe she already looked out into the world and found it lacked something. Maybe it was never the right place for her.]

I understand. [She says this even though she doesn't agree.] What do you think it will take to kill you?

[It's a practical question—and seemingly an earnest one, coming from Ninety-Nine. If Reiju is next to suffer a bite that can't be cordoned off, at least one person should know how to put her down. Other intentions aside, this is perhaps the biggest reason she answers easily:]

My exoskeleton is as durable as metal. Pierce that, and I'll be susceptible like anyone else. Then it'll just be a matter of killing me before I can recover.

Your exoskeleton, [she repeats, with a level of understanding that's only superficial, like she gets it without really getting it. She understands there needs to be a deep wound to pry into, and really, isn't that what she really needs to know - if it comes to it?]

If we succeed here, you'll go back for the same thing?

[She exhales through her nose with a smile.]

Who can say? I don't go around seeking death. Maybe I'll fall in battle, or another scheme will ensnare my family.

[If she dies, she dies, and all will be right with the world. If she lives, it is what it is.]

Hn.

[That explains a question that Ninety-Nine hadn't even known she'd been thinking. In many ways, she's inert, isn't she - the way Ninety-Nine was when she was still locked in that dark underground laboratory? And yet, in that memory she saw, what Reiju did for her brother had been anything but.

She's no good at thinking through these things, and she doesn't care about speculating why things are the way they are.]

Something could still happen to you here. But you wouldn't mind that, as long as we kept going, is that right?

That's right.

[In a mission as prolonged as this one, casualties are inevitable. Reiju isn't especially attached to life, but . . .

A memory lances through the kitchen, swift and sudden: An airborne Reiju crashes into the ground from a lethal barrage of flames. One of her brothers calls out her name from the sky, but another—the eldest of them—shouts, "Leave her! Niji, Yonji! That's what happens to the weak. Do your job!"

Once it fades, Reiju smiles wryly. That brother of hers is so unlovely, but it's true that she broke the line with her fall, and this neatly segues into her next point:] As a mercenary, the mission is paramount.

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week 4

respite

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back to suicidal ideation cw

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