>>6304494>>6304496>>6304497>>6304521>>6304539>Announce yourself calmly. Preemptively deescalate and establish yourself as not a threat.The man jerks as you call out, dropping the keyboard with a harsh plastic clatter. His hand snaps towards the pistol strapped to his thigh as he spins to face you, eyes wide with alarm…
<span class="mu-i">Laser pistol. Output can make 1.5 cm cut through 5 mm of steel in 2 seconds. Stay mobile to avoid hits to flesh-</span>
…but he stops just short of drawing.
For a moment, he just stares. Then he blinks hard, squints, and rubs his eyes, as though trying to confirm that you aren’t some mirage. His mouth parts, closes, then opens again. The motion repeats as he struggles to settle on words.
You can feel the weight of his disbelief radiating across the room, almost as palpable as the hum of the half-dead servers. He must have thought he was the only one in here – not just in the tower, but in the drowned carcass of Norfolk.
Your own lips part, then falter. There’s nothing useful to say. No name to give, no reason for being here that doesn’t dissolve the second you try to grasp it. You settle for silence, shifting from one foot to the other, the awkwardness growing heavier with every second as neither of you speaks.
Thankfully, it doesn’t last long. The man breaks it with a nervous bark of laughter, the sound brittle in the cavernous server room. He lifts his hands, palms empty and open, making a show of moving one deliberately off the pistol at his side. But his posture is still coiled with tension, as if bracing for the floor to drop out from under him.
“Sorry,” he says, voice rough but not unkind. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Could’ve sworn I was the only one in here…”
His gaze lingers, flicking over you in quick appraisal. Heat rises unbidden to your cheeks under his scrutiny – the plugsuit clings too close to comfort.
But impropriety is the last thing on his mind. His eyes catch instead on the blade at your hip, and he gives a low whistle. “That vibrosword of yours work? Most of the ones I’ve seen got fried when the Cataclysm hit the grid. If yours is still running, you got yourself a real treasure.”
<span class="mu-i">Cataclysm. A large scale and violent event in the natural world or socio-political order.</span>
When you don’t immediately respond, the man coughs, filling the silence. “Right, uh….I’m Harper. Harper Park. I’d shake your hand, but-” he jerks his chin towards the glowing terminal, wires splayed like veins across its housing. “-it’ll have to wait for a bit. You caught me in the middle of something.”
The name feels strange in your ears – too normal, too mundane against the hum of failing machines and the quiet rumbling of a dead tower.
Harper Park.
A survivor, just like you.
But the way he carries himself suggests he’s been one for far, far longer.
...you can't help but wonder if he was one prior to this...Cataclysm.
(cont.)
