Chapter 1 - Beginnings: Part 1/?

An old man sits in Times Square station, playing his old acoustic with some people surrounding him. They listen as he plays and he stops to take a swig and speak.

"There's a lot to say about the Calamity which brought us down here, not a lot that folks don't already know. Mad men hit the button and we all paid the price for their hate." He starts strumming again. "We found our own peace, in the Subways. But not long ago, things started to get strange. What passes for strange down here."

The tune is Melancholy and whimsical in alternation.

"I didn't know the guy when he got drafted for the Walkers. I just pulled his rap sheet."

"Mother a Chinatown girl, Dad a tourist. Caught in Spring, before it was 'Yellow River'. Found love and warmth in each other's arms. But when Yellow River started pushed at the boundaries, and Nova Italia started pushing back, they hightailed it before they gave birth to a 'soldier of the people.'

"Got his hands dirty, in a few different ways. Good fighter, better pig farmer. Not afraid to get messy to get a job done. His dad was an electrician, so you know they would be well off wherever. NYU. In fact."

He takes another swig.

"Place is pretty, when the students and teacher realized they were in there for life, they tried to make the best of it. A few of the chem teachers got to dissolving some of the MRE stuffs and fermenting them. Heh, knowledge is power indeed."

"So when the kid was born, he got a good learning, even for down here. Letters and Skills, Chinese and German, Tech and Animal care. Could shoot alright for a pig farmer, hit the rats three shots outta five."  His strumming got steady and quick. "Decent kid, scrappy, loved his parents."

"So when the Local Walker handed his parents a letter, saying: Happy New Years, your son's been drafted, to walk tunnels, scrub toliets, and hunt mutants: They weren't happy"

METRO 2040: MANHATTAN

<NO.> Mama Tzun's voice is steady and cold. <My baby is not being a damn tunnel-gun!> But she peaks whenever her balance takes a swing.  Kurt Senior holds up his hands to calm her down.

/Love he's going to be fine./ Family's trilingual at this point damn confusing to anyone prying ears and that's good for them. /They'll make him an engineer. He'll won't be a hunter!/

<Short-sighted!> That's sharp insult in Mandarian. <They have generators and all sorts of things on the surface, where do you think they'll need an 'engineer' the most!?> Tzun knows the way things work. <Can't even hope to 'fail' test, cause our baby so damn smart!> Knows how to argue for her kid too.

Kid's sitting there, Kurt Jr, all of 20 and change, meal finished and the letter in front of him. Says his boss is already got his last payday waiting. Says he's due: Packed and Ready, at the station floor on Jan Third. That's tomorrow. Parents are arguing right now. Dad's saying he'll be fine. Mom's saying it's too dangerous.

What's a kid to do, when the parents are fighting?

(Take Mom's Side?)
(Take Dad's Side?) 1/1 vote (Come on other Lurkers! Post your choices! I promise we'll get to the sex faster that way!)
(Take neither side?)

Kids speeks up: "Mom, he has a point. They'll probably have me learning the ins and outs for a month at least before-" Kid stops as Mom gives him a stare that says enough. Everything's quiet, except the celebrating outside. New Years and all. Mother sighs slow and closes her eyes.

/Go get your pay./ Her voice is quiet and Junior doesn't waste a heart beat. He cleans his dishes grabs the letter and gives his mom a peck on the cheek before he goes. Dad pats him on the shoulder and hands him his jacket.

NYU's a short and straight forward station, not like it's rumble-down neighbor 'Dis-Union'. The train cars in the middle tracks are residential, and the bridges over to the platforms rattle as you cross them. Kurt Jr. beats feet and moves through the crowd. Folks are happy to have gotten through another year. It was a bad one, folks still haven't heard from anyone north of Central Park.

So the Kid makes his way to the south end of the station, where folks have dug out from the bunker rooms originally dug for the place. The one furthest back leads to the old sewer lines. That means it stinks, yeah, but it's a convenient place to have your pig farm. Kid pulls back some sheets of plastic keeping the smell from spreading out. The crew is hanging out by cages, one of the sows is due to deliver soon.

"Kurt!" A crusty old man waves at the kid. "Good timing!" Kurt closes the gap and a few of the guys nod at him. "Boss was just saying he had some big news for us." They look to their boss, a sturdy black man with a handlebar mustache and a bald head. Kurt meets the man's eyes so he knows what's coming. 

"Gentlemen," Boss likes to start speeches out like that. "We've been through a lot htis year. Damn bandits sneaking up to steal our pigs. Those crap-baskets from down the line saying we sold them a mad pig, and now-" He puts on a dramatic face. "Now our dear young squire is forced to leave us." The pig farmers are, understandably, blase' about their boss's theatrics. He coughs and continues. "To be drafted!" This gets their attention and they look to Kurt. The room expodes with voices.

"The hell they takin' you for?"
"Bet they need to fill out their 'gunner' quota"
"Kids good with wires, bet that's it!"

Suddenly there's a heavy squeal and all eyes turn to the sow. She's on her side, going into labor. One last time, Kurt helps deliver a litter of piglets. Six in total. Lively and already suckling on their mother's teats.

Kurt washes up and his boss hands him his last pay day. Twenty Military AR rounds, Five Deer Slugs, and Ten .45 rounds. Kid pockets the bullets and spends the better part of hte early morning with his pals, chatting up a storm and shooting the breeze.

He comes home round five till six. Mom and Dad are in bed, in their room. Having that much space is a luxury his dad's job afforded. Having your own room, it's not something most kids growing up down here ever have.

Sleep hits him hard. It's all nightmares. Twisting shadows, towering monoliths, and this burning, searing light above his had that rings so loud!

/Wake up!/ Mother's voice. /Wake up, you sloth!/ Kid doesn't know what a sloth is, but he guesses they were sleeping better than he was. He rolls out of bed, and it takes him a minute to remember everything. He trundles out a makeshift structure between the two center tracks. It's got pipes over it and showers in it. Kurt washes up and head back.

Eating breakfast is a quiet affair. Packing up too. But all in all the kids has his effects in order. Clothes, a bed roll, some other necessities for tunnel life, including his own personal hand generator. Hooked up to most stuff and could jump start some of the old burnt out systems. Also had a knife somone brought down from scavenging. Sharp enough.

So he was packed up, and when he walked out to the platform where he'd wait from the rail car, he saw a small crowd. Word passed quick enough, and everyone not hung over was waiting for the kid. 

Mayor's in the crowd, and she's got a speech. Kids' too tired to really hear it but he nods in the right places.  Then there's a call from the intercom. Lookouts call for the south doors to open. They screech and everyone turns, expecting a rail car, but are surprise as all hell to see what looks like well. A truck. It's up the rails and it has spinning tires to boot. The flat bed has the Metro Walker logo, a down pointing sword with a wreath of leaves around it. Painted all over the thing.

Whose driving isn't important, I'm just there to make sure noone steals the ride. It's whose in the back that draws everyone's attention. There's a kid looking all of Yellow River, oriental jacket and all. He's looking through the crowd without looking at them. His eyes fall on Kurt and it turns into a glare. Kurt looks mixed enough that this guy's assuming what he is. Plus mom and dad are right behind so it's a pretty straight line.

There's another draftees, sitting down. From Prince Station, City Hall, Cortlandt, but not Rector. Rector was... Well best not to say.  Still the big draw was, and usualy is,  'Red-Ash' Moira. Standing at a little under six feet in boots. She had skin as pale as ashes, which is how she got her nickname. But her hair is fire red, pulled back in a rebellious pony tail. She's all muscle and curves and all in uniform, and her bright eyes are on Kurt.

I pull to a stop and take a look at the kid. I'm not impressed, but I never am.

"You Kurt Lydle Junior?" She asks. Her voice annoyed, previous stop wasn't too pleasant.

Folks answer in a few ways. Nervous, snarky, Bold, How the kid answers would shape how Moira saw him till she saw otherwise.

>Nervous: Y-yeah.
>Snarky: No, I'm the other guy 
>Bold: Better... believe it.
>Write in: Chose your own one-liner!
 