Alexis Harrison
The West Precinct is falling. While the officers in the southern end of Queen Anne and Magnolia have had better luck with keeping some semblance of order, the proximity to what people have begun to dub ‘No Man’s Land’ has placed heavy strain on the Seattle Police Department. Collateral damage from the worst of the storm has left hundreds of people in the northern part of the district homeless, while others are looting freely. Combined with this are reports of a man with super-human strength specifically targeting police in the area.
There are thirty men left in Alexis’ squad. Most of them have clustered together after being split from riot control group. They still have access to short-range radio, which occasionally spit out activity reports. The storm seems to be interfering with the signals, however, and it’s an imperfect system. At the moment all of them are taking shelter in an abandoned building, patching up and awaiting further orders.
As for Alexis herself, nobody is looking at her quite the same since her death. Not many people are talking to her either. She has, however, become designated as some sort of asset in the meantime. The man in charge of the squad, Sargent Adam Sariff, has taken to consulting with her.
Such is the case now. An hour ago the following radio signal was received:
SPD Stationed in Magnolia and Queen Anne, begin to evacuate citizens to South Lake Union. Repeat, begin evacuation to South Lake Union.
The second message came several minutes after:
21st avenue overrun. Mobs in the streets. Requesting assistance. They’re being led by-Can’t get outside. Requesting backup. Requesting-…
Sariff and two other senior officers have been talking over their options, and he finally turns to Alexis and asks, “What do you think?” He points to the map they’ve spread out on a table. “We can get to 21st. If we split up we can get there to help them out, and still evacuate.”
“If we split,” One of the other men chimes in, “We’re not going to be as effective. And if there’s something out there…”
“We need to follow orders,” The last man says, “Leave them to handle themselves, we need to get to South Lake.”
((What do you think? Go help out your fellow officers, or continue to the evacuation? Or a mix of both?))
Jenna Suzuki/Black Rabbit
Nu’ro’s main corporate office is located in Downtown Seattle, near the center of the city. It, like a scant few other buildings in the area, has managed to retain power so far. Mostly because of an obscene amount of backup generators in the facility. It can’t last forever, but Downtown has yet to fall into complete chaos thanks to Seattle police and corporate security. The building has been reduced to a skeleton crew since the outside world has effectively ceased to exist, but it still stands.
At the moment the lobby is being used as an outreach shelter, a base for police and refugees. Employees have been allowed to remain on the premises temporarily. Jenna, not being a regular employee, is not relegated to the lower levels. At present she’s been relegated to one of the lounges near the top of the tower, told simply to wait. The whole floor seems to be empty, but at least there’s a few magazines, water, and food. The huge glass windows are smeared with raindrops, and it’s almost impossible to make out the street below through the haze of water.
Break time, however, is coming to an end. It starts with a dim rumbling, and then something louder, a sharp pop that reverberates through the building. The lights dim for a second, then flicker back to life. Over the intercom a voice pops up, crackled and distorted: “Attention. There is an incident in the building. Please remain calm and proceed to the nearest exit.” Several more polite warnings are made, instructing employees and visitors on the finer points of exiting or finding the nearest security.
A second voice comes on over the intercom while the first drones on.
“Breach on 47th floor, marketing. Breach on 23rd floor, finance. Breach on rooftop. All available security personal investigate. Targets are hostile.”
At present Jenna sits on the 53rd floor, and the building has 60 altogether. She knows the roof is next to the important corporate offices, and that while all of those places might be important, things that are actually worth stealing are buried below ground.
((Where would you like to go?))
Edward Rothchild
It’s been not even a full day since escape. Edward can still vividly feel the dark, the slow dribble of water leaking down from the ceiling. That’s all gone now, though. So is most of Sunset Hill. By the time Edward hit the light most of it was gone, smashed into wreckage by the fury of the storm and the bay. As he picks his way through crumbled suburbs he can see the people combing through the wreckage, some seeking shelter, others looting whatever remains.
He stands now in a maze of half-standing buildings, an old strip of crowded shops and business with nobody in sight. His choices at the moment are faily simple. Head south across the river toward the government district, east toward other shelter, or north out of the city. Anywhere is better than here. There’s also the lingering sensation that something is WRONG in this area. Like something is following him, no matter how he moves through the hazy shadows of the early evening.
And one last thing. As he moves he begins to get a slow throb in the back of his head. As minutes pass words begin to form, echoing back and forth in his head: “Here.” Just that word, repeated over several times. Sometimes it grows in intensity, sometimes it fades, it seems to depend on what direction he’s moving.
((So. You can investigate the voice, or pick a direction and start walking. Or do something else in No Man’s Land if you want!))
Conner McDonnell
It’s been a crazy few days. Ever since the bar things have gone to hell. The rain hasn’t stopped, streets began to floor, police have come out in masse. The wireless around the area has dropped like flies, one signal after another dying out. The bar has remained open at least, though there isn’t terribly much left. There are candles though, and a few rather surly individuals who’ve kept out anyone looking to sack the place.
Things outside are less pleasant. It soon becomes apparent that there’s a way on in the streets. Police and every criminal that can crawl out of the woodwork are duking it out. Strangely, all of the seedier elements in the district seem to be coalescing into some sort of hive-organization intent on taking as much of the city as possible.
What might be more interesting, though, is a new signal that pops up in Connor’s mind. It’s heavily encrypted, but he can tell it’s coming from somewhere south of him. There’s another that crops up, shorter range and unencrypted:
Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them. Laurelhurst, North 33rd.
((You can do stuff. Investigate crime, investigate signals, whatever else!))