Mercenaries

Alriiiiiiiight, before we begin, this will be a text adventure based on the storything I'm writing on my DevArt. If you haven't read it, don't. There will be spoilers for the story in this text adventure, and vice versa. Had some internal debate over whether to make it a text adventure or full-blown RP, and I might do that later, but this is what I decided to do NOW.

(I'll do my best to keep the two up to speed with eachother, but I am an immense derp so)

Basic forum/text adventure rules apply. Submit commands, more than one if you want, try to make them serious some of the time, I'll address as many as I can with each post. And with any ado out that is further...

~~~

The train crawls for a second longer, then screeches as it finally draws to a halt. The doors open noiselessly. You can't remember a quieter time in your life.

The train could be a living creature, standing there silently, waiting for you.

You pick up your hastily-packed suitcase, full of clothes and reminders.

You step inside.

A second later, the doors are closed and you wonder what kind of choice you just made.

You walk over to one of the brown leather seats, your feet moving as if wading through water. Aside from you, the train is deserted. It begins to move. Lightly dazed, you sit down.

You feel a strange obligation to read the letter again that is almost certainly not caused by an uncreative OP trying to get the storyline moving along.

>Look around, make sure no one is watching you. Then read the letter.

Amon-Ra wrote:

>Look around, make sure no one is watching you. Then read the letter.

You look up and survey the cabin. It appears to be completely devoid of life, aside from yourself. Somewhat cautiously, you take out the letter.

Dear Sir or Madame,

I am writing to you because I require your employment. You are the best there is at what you do.

You are to receive the sum of $938,200.00 annually for your services whilst you are both employed and fully alive.

You have very few other options.

If you accept, be at platform H of Northland Centrale Station at the strike of noon on the eleventh, thirteenth, or sixteenth of December. Bring with you anything you shall require from your old life.

If you decline, be advised that the unpleasantness of your current situation shall soon be magnified considerably.

My sincerest acknowledgements,

[redacted]

Today is the sixteenth of December.

On the eleventh, you had debated with yourself whether or not to show up. You had decided against it. You certainly needed the money, but this was simply too much. The letter must've been a practical joke; you can't for the life of you imagine what skill you might have that would land you such a, for the looks of it, dangerous job. Besides, there was a cafe in the south side of town that you had just secured a part-time job at. It was a start.

On the twelfth, you had walked to the cafe and found it deserted, wooden boards nailed over the windows. You were certain you were at the right address.

On the thirteenth, you had packed and gone to the station at noon. The train had arrived, but you did not board it. You stared at its open doors for almost a half-hour before turning away and walking back home.

On the fourteenth, you had woken up to see a note on your bedside table that read 'Reconsider.' You had angrily torn it up and tossed it from the window.

On the fifteenth, a man had been at your apartment. Despite your greatest efforts, you cannot recall a single detail about his appearance, other than the fact that he had violet pupils. Not a second after you made eye contact with him, you had fallen unconscious somehow and awoke in your bed the next morning.

On the sixteenth, you had packed as quickly as possible, stuffing your few possessions into a stolen suitcase, all the while knowing you were being watched. You had made your way to the station as fast as you could run. There was not a doubt in your mind that if you missed this last chance to board the train, something terrible would become of you.

And here you are. On the train.

You look up from the letter. There is someone else here.

>Act casually, ask if they need anything, then ask if they are the person you were to meet.

Amon-Ra wrote:

>Act casually, ask if they need anything, then ask if they are the person you were to meet.

You cautiously clear your throat. The intruder does not react.

He sit there silently, draped in a voluminous brown overcoat. Strands of unkempt hair flow from under a large hat, which also hides his face. A large black duffle bag rests at his feet.

You cough once more. "Hello?"

His head swivels lazily in your direction.

"Are you... my contact?"

That catches his attention. He speaks, or perhaps someone is crushing a carton of in cans nearby.

"Thought you were, mate."

The two of you fall silent. After a time, you check your watch... Five o'clock. The hours seem to be passing by faster than you thought; you even feel a bit worn-out...

>Ask him if he received the same letter as you. Don't try to sleep, do not trust that man yet.

>Stare at the man suspiciously, you don't know why he appeared so suddenly.

Amon-Ra wrote:

>Ask him if he received the same letter as you. Don't try to sleep, do not trust that man yet.

After working up the courage to speak again, you voice the question.

The man turns to you again, staring with expressionless eyes (or at least you think they'd be expressionless if you could see them). He reaches into one of his many large pockets and pulls out a re-sealed envelope, somewhat dirtier than your own version, holding it up for a few seconds before returning it to the maw of the pocket.

unit11 wrote:

>Stare at the man suspiciously, you don't know why he appeared so suddenly.

Hmm. Where did he come from? Could you have fallen asleep in a fit of retrospection while he boarded? Was he, perhaps, here all along? You hesitate to ask the man, he doesn't seem the social type.

You cast a glance toward the nearest window, adjusting your head to see better out of the narrow slit. What little scenery reaches your thirsty eyes consists of grass, rocks, rocks, rocks, disheveled cornstalks, rocks, some more grass...

You begin to see a few buildings. Perhaps this is a country town of sorts.

Without warning, the train screeches, shaking the cabin noticeably as it slows down. You instinctively reach for a nearby pole to stabilize yourself.

About half a minute later, the train halts completely. You sit, one arm wrapped around the pole, wondering what to make of this new development. The man appears to have fallen asleep.

At the other end of the cabin, a door opens.

>Stand up, but don't move. Look around and wait to see what happens next.

>Crouch down and hide behind your chair, using the gap in the chairs to eye the door while you search for anything you have that could be used as a weapon. Since you've gotten this letter you don't know if you can trust anything.

Amon-Ra wrote:

>Stand up, but don't move. Look around and wait to see what happens next.

You tentatively arise to your feet and eye the door with suspicion. You glimpse a foot as someone begins to step through...

unit111 wrote:

>Crouch down and hide behind your chair, using the gap in the chairs to eye the door while you search for anything you have that could be used as a weapon. Since you've gotten this letter you don't know if you can trust anything.

As quickly as possible, you try to duck down behind the seats. Scanning the immediate area for a weapon, you decide the best option is your own suitcase. Holding it infront of you, you as bravely as possible while through the doors steps...

A woman, surprisingly small, dressed in cargo pants and a green sweater that seems a little too large for her. She looks to her left, surveying the deserted train, giving you enough time to meekly slip back into your seat before she sees your display of courage.

As she looks your way, you see in her eyes the same uncertainty that must have shown in your own when you came aboard. The doors close silently, and the train hisses.

>Stare suspiciously at her. If she's in the same state as you then she's probably brought trouble. Either that or believes you've brought trouble. No matter which one it is, you had better be wary of her.

>Show her the letter, then nod to the other man, as well as ask if she has one too.

unit111 wrote:

>Stare suspiciously at her. If she's in the same state as you then she's probably brought trouble. Either that or believes you've brought trouble. No matter which one it is, you had better be wary of her.

You make eye contact and give the woman your most suspicious stare. She looks back with wide, nervous eyes. Eventually she looks away and hurries to a seat. You feel slightly guilty.

Amon-Ra wrote:

>Show her the letter, then nod to the other man, as well as ask if she has one too.

You unwrap your letter and hold it out for her to see. After a few seconds, she notices and produces her own copy. You stare at eachother for a few more awkward seconds until the man in the overcoat breaks the silence with loud snores.

Feeling that nothing more can be said, you put away the letter. According to your watch, it is 5:10, and according to your stomach, you are hungry. You look around for any signs of food, but the train is sadly victual-free. The green-sweatered woman eventually closes her eyes and begins to nod off.

>Lecture your stomach on the values of starvation in a loud enough voice that the woman and the other man will be woken up.

unit111 wrote:

>Lecture your stomach on the values of starvation in a loud enough voice that the woman and the other man will be woken up.

Hmm... Maybe not.

You sit, uncertain of what to do, for around half an hour. Eventually, you decide that it's best to forget about your hunger and just get some rest to speed up this tedium.

You lean back, resting your head against the wall above the leather seats. Something clicks.

> Leap up and look about wildly searching for the click while muttering in a none too quiet manner about bombs being on the carriage.

unit111 wrote:

> Leap up and look about wildly searching for the click while muttering in a none too quiet manner about bombs being on the carriage.

You admit, bombs were the first thing on your mind when you heard the click. However, after jumping to your feet and inspecting the wall, the culprit appears to have been a small compartment that was opened by your intrusive cranium.

You explore the tiny cupboard with your fingers. Grasping something lumpy, you remove your hand to find a biscuit wrapped in a napkin.

Maybe there are more of these compartments...

>Joyously eat the biscuit to curb your rowdy stomach and then commit to an intensive search for more compartments.

unit111 wrote:

>Joyously eat the biscuit to curb your rowdy stomach and then commit to an intensive search for more compartments.

You're not quite sure you've ever had something that tasted this good oh my god it's so buttery and crumbly and delicious asidhoizf9esurisoahtfuifst69-xjhf-t6=f0

You find two more compartments, one with some cheese and the other with a few slices of bread. The woman appears to have woken up, and is observing you in your search.

>Eat the food before she can ask for it. You are obviously too hungry to share with the likes of her!

>See if you can gleen any details from the two sleeping passengers by looking at them. Who, exactly, are they?

>Offer her the bread with a questioning glance. The best kind of adventure is one with another person!

unit111 wrote:

>Eat the food before she can ask for it. You are obviously too hungry to share with the likes of her!

But she looks so hungry!

Amon-Ra wrote:

>Offer her the bread with a questioning glance. The best kind of adventure is one with another person!

You extend your hand across the aisle. After a few seconds, she takes it from you (sleeves still covering her hands) and gives you a grateful nod.

The two of you eat in silence.

RedBalloon wrote:

>See if you can gleen any details from the two sleeping passengers by looking at them. Who, exactly, are they?

You give the overcoat man a more detailed look-over. He looks like someone you'd find in the streets... perhaps a former businessman, as his hat and coat must have been really fancy before they got that disheveled.

The green sweater woman has short black hair and eyes that seem to always be wide open. She seems more like a college student than anything else, but somehow you doubt that that's the case. The sleeves-covering-hands thing seems quite odd to you.

>Ask her why she covers her hands.