Final Destination

05 June 2025

"This is your captain speaking, we have begun our descent into SeaTac. Please put your seatbacks and tray tables in their upright and locked positions. The local time is one-thirty-seven in the morning, and the temperature is fifty three degrees. Looks like we should be expecting rain today, hope everyone brought a jacket. For now sit back and relax, we'll be on the ground shortly."

It's been a long, relatively boring flight -- as trans-pacific air travel tends to be. Fortunately, no babies spent the entire trip crying. Attendants had been by to pick up any trash for the last time about twenty minutes ago. The flight was packed, and most passengers had been asleep. The announcement roused them, and attendants made sure to wake anyone who needed to put up their tray or seat (as if they made the difference between life and death).

Minutes tick by. The more perceptive notice the plane seems to bank lazily. The more experienced with this flight know that's atypical. Still, never know who could be in the way.

More minutes tick by. It becomes notable that the plane is circline the airport. No announcement though, and the attendants aren't talking. Passengers are beginning to murmur amongst themselves as the circling is notuced. For those with the vantage point, the head flight attendant answers the phone from her jump seat, and after hanging up unbuckles herself and heads to the fore of the plane. A minute later she rushes to each other attendant and whispers something, before returning to her jumpseat and strapping in. She seems to pause a moment, then picks up the phone.

"This is your captain again. We do apologize for that delay, we were having a bit of a communications issue with the flight tower. We're good to go now though, and we'll be on the ground presently. Thank you again for flying with us today."

The plane does, in fact, seem to finish its bank and then descend. Minutes later, that familiar and reassuring bump of the landing gears contacting the tarmac jostles everyone and the plane slows as it taxies to the terminal.

Eventually the plan stops completely, and the "fasten seatbelt" sign is extinguished. A bunch of people stand, others aren't in a rush. But the doors... don't open. The head attendant rushes around, and after a few more minutes the door opens and they deploy the emergency slide. About half the attendants exit the plane, the other half staying near the doors to assist passengers in their egress.

This flight has certainly taken a turn.

There isn't much you can see through the little windows. The lights are certainly on in the terminal, and you think you can catch movement, but you just don't have an angle conducive to seeing much.

It takes a bit, but the attendants are able to get everyone off the plane and keep them together. The pilots will debark last, and once they're standing on the tarmac one will address the 248 passengers.

"We apologize for using the slides. We haven't gotten a reaponse from the tower or the terminal. We aren't sure what's going on, but we're working on accessing the terminal and should have everyone inside shortly. We ask you to be patient, and stay together."

The murmur in the crowd is notable. After a few minutes, in which different members of the flight crew will attempt to radio the terminal and open an access doorway, everyone will hear a weak, higher pitched horn. Coming around a corner, there are a trio of passenger shuttles heading towards all of you. Each is driven by someone in a TSA uniform. Two of the agents will begin loading people into the carts, starting with the very old, the very young (and a guardian), and anyone with a disability or injury. At the same time, the third agent pulls the pilots and head attendant to the side and talks with them. Towards the end of the conversation, the agent pulls out a tablet and a moment later the head flight attendant turns away with her hand held to her mouth.

They're able to load up about 60 people between the three of them. As they depart, the pilot will announce you're going to make your way to the front of the airport.

As you walk, there is a lot of low tones and whispers. It's the loudest quiet in recent memory. And the walk will take a bit... SeaTac isn't small. One pilot is at the front of the group, the other pilot is last in the line.

After a bit, the same three TSA agents roll up in their shuttles, this time with a fourth agent and shuttle, and will load up the next 80 or so people.

The energy is bad. There is a general air of tension and uncertainty, but the crew from the plane are doing their best to reassure everyone.

As you all walk, eventually the four shuttles return and cart off another 80 passengers. The group left walking is small (about 25 passengers, the two pilots, and the 6 attendants), but you're rounding the end of the terminal. It's been a healthy walk, but it's finally coming to an end. Two shuttles return, and one of the agents apologizes that your group ended up last as they load you up to drive you the last leg of the journey.

The first thing you notice is the city buses lined up in the pick-up zone. The second thing you notice are people -- TSA agents? Guards? You can't tell from this distance -- who seem to be watching... the automatic doors to the terminal itself? Sure, a few seem to be watching the road in both directions, and across the street where the parking garage is, but most of them are focused on the terminal itself. It even looks like someone used a forklift to line up some jersey barriers in front of the doors.

You also notice some shuttles coming in from the other direction, and the people are being loaded directly onto the buses.

The one thing you're not sure of... is what the hell is actually going on.

Glancing at Rain in the little rearview mirror, the driver replies, "I'm sorry, miss, but that's above my pay grade. All I can say is we're evacuating whoever we can to the Seattle Center, and there will be a lot more information there."

As the shuttles approach the city busses, which already have people packed in, you'll hear someone near the doors yell, "SHIT!!"

It draws your attention, in time to see through the massive windows that a mass of people is sort of... lumbering up to the doors. When the group inside the terminal gets closer to the large automatic doors you're all a bit surprised to find that they don't open -- which is affirmed by the mass of people slowly colliding with what is now effectively a glass and steel wall.

As you trundle closer to the activity, the feeling of unease only intensifies.

Stan is relieved to make note that the city busses lined up in the pick-up zone seem like they have a clear route to leave the terminal. Cars have been almost neatly moved off to the side of the lanes near the parking garage... although, by whom is unclear. Still... plenty of TSA agents seem to be protecting the busses. There are people working to protect all of you. Things might turn out ok...

Stan finds that his phone has signal, and internet seems to work just fine, but there are no news articles of any sort since just after 6:00pm local time.

As Stan searches, he notices all news posts and even social media activity seems to have stopped. A quick double check reveals that, when accounting for time zones, it all stopped at about the same time.

It takes some work, but Stan is able to find more recent social media posts -- albeit from people he doesn't follow. The time stamps are all over the place, even accounting for time zones.

Most of them are the "WTF is happening?!" type of post. You'll find two or three posts from people landing at major airports and having people waiting for them to take them to safety -- including one from SeaTac a few hours ago.

Much to Sakura's concern, the phone rings until the voicemail picks up.

The shuttles arrive at the busses, rolling to a stop. The TSA agents get out, and start to move around the transports. A few will start instructing passengers to get off the shuttles and board the busses.

Everyone is tense, and it feels like a powder keg just waiting to explode.

As the last passengers from the Tokyo flight are exiting the shuttles and making their way hurridly towards the large busses, one of the agents will notice three people lumbering forward from the same direction as the shuttles had come from.

"Contact! Three forward! Three forward!"

One agent near the front of the busses will level a submachine gun, letting loose with a burst of gunfire as he sweeps it across the three figures. To anyone watching, the three seem to have no reaction to the bullets striking them. It gets weirder when one TSA agent closes with them and pulls out a large blade ("Is that a machete?!" from someone on the bus) and cleaves into the lead figure.

Agents at the busses will work to get people loaded as quickly as possible as the throng of...people?... near the doors seems to be growing.

As the last passengers of your flight board the city busses, the doors to the terminal start to give way under the mass of flesh pushing against them. One comes off its rails, crashing onto the ground. The people start to pour out if the airport, and some of the TSA agents jump onto the buses.

You all notice that the mass of people spilling out of the terminal shamble right by the TSA agents, even as some agents attack the people.

The throng shuffles towards the busses.
Drivers yell for the agents to hurry up and get on.
A few agents, surrounded by a sea of flesh, yell for the busses to leave.
A few more gunshots cut through the night air, and puntuate the overwhelming sensation of everything happening all at once.

The crowds move closer to the bus, and as they come into view everyone onboard realizes just how wrong everything has gone.The drivers can't wait any longer and, concerned they may become stuck if enough bodies surround the vehicles, close the doors as the busses begin rolling out.

The passengers lapse into silence... mostly. Someone near the back of your bus is crying softly. The reality of the situation is setting in, and the weight threatens to smother whoever is left.

The transportation makes it onto I-5, headed north into Seattle. There are cars everywhere, although many of them seem pushed to one side of the freeway or the other, resulting in some clear lanes. After a bit, you see a small group using a bulldozen to force vehicles out of the way, with a running pick-up truck nearby. Clearly, this is an organized effort.

About twenty minutes into the drive, Stan's phone chimes quietly, notifying him of a message.

Took us to Seattle Center. Safe but controlling. Had to turn in phones. Hid mine. Don't reply.

As you head into the Emerald City, the only thing you're certain of is that you aren't certain of anything anymore.

Unfortunately, Amaresh doesn't too find much on a city bus.

Amaresh can't see anything that looks promising. The poles standing passengers hold onto would make a decent staff, but they're bolted down tight. Rushing a TSA Agent for their sidearm is too risky. The bus doesn't even have a cable to pull, instead it has strips you push on to ring the bell.

As the buses leave I-5 and enter Seattle proper, it becomes readily appearant how bad it really is.

The cars are the first indicator. There are signs of wrecks everywhere. Numerous cars drove into buildings. Even more hit other cars, causing some truly huge pile-ups. Some even seemed to have rolled down the hills and into the water.

That being said... the buses seem to follow a particular path, and it has been cleared of obstructions. Perhaps a crew like the one you saw previously has been at work in the city?

The hordes are out, and are drawn to the sounds of the buses. The drivers refuse to stop, and more than a couple of people are simply driven over. Passengers notice and point out small plumes of smoke rising between buildings at random intervals.

Eventually, the buses arrive at the Seattle Center. The Center House -- or, The Armory -- has been hastily barricaded. Chain link panels provide a place for buses to unload, with a number of people standing guard. You all can see a number of bodies laying on the walkways and grass around the grounds. As people unload from the buses, more guards move to watch the parking area, including some on the roof. Inside the doors there are tables, and people are indeed collecting phones, tablets, laptops, and the like. As you get closer, you can see they are putting devices in clear "ziploc" style bags with polaroid pictures of the owner, as well as writing on the bag.

For now, your bus isn't letting people off... it looks like they're taking one bus at a time.

After a bit, it's your turn to get off the bus and move into the Center House.

"Let's keep it orderly, folks. Everyone will get in, and we're keeping you safe. No need to worry or panic. Three lines people, three lines!"

Multiple people are saying the same basic message, and while they're presenting at least a cursory attempt at placating the people that were rescued, most of them keep their eyes out of the makeshift lot, looking for signs of danger.

As you slowly but steadily move through the doors, it becomes your turns at the tables.

"Please turn over any electronics and any weapons. They'll be stored safely and returned to you once things are better sorted out."

You note that, in addition to the polaroid, they're checking ID and writing full name and date of birth on the bags before sealing them and placing them in numbered tubs. There also appears to be a master list where the name and DOB is listed with the tub number.

When they notice Stan walking with a limp, before he even gets to the table one of the people working... security?... rushes to him. "Sir, are you injured? Were you bit?"

As the women each approach an... organizer?... they get the speech, followed with, "Hand over any electronics or weapons, a form of ID, and open any handbags for search. Please."

"Immigration won't be a problem, miss," comes the reply. One of the attendees will scurry off, and promptly returns with a Japanese woman.

In perfect japanese, she addresses Sakura. "Hello. I'm sure this is a confusing time. We are not sure what the emergency is or what caused it, but we've established this safe location to protect everyone we can.

Do you have any electronics with you? We want to keep this place a secret to keep people safe while we figure out what is going on."

The young man making use of the wand is more entranced with where Rain is hiding her phone than trying to find said phone. Ultimately, he doesn't manage to find her hidden cellphone.

The Japanese woman looks over and smiles an almost predatory smile. "There is no agency. We're all that's keeping you safe." She turns back to Sakura and her smile changes to a much more sympathetic and warm expression.

The man helping Stan out pauses for a second and glances around. In hushed tones, he says, "Whatever happened to everyone else seems to have happened to them too. As far as we know, there are no police or military to speak of."

Then, in a more conversational tone, he asks, "Twisted ankle. That sucks. Do you need some ice for any swelling?" He grabs a chair from behind the table and swings it around to Stan's side, putting a hamd on his arm to help support him as he takes a seat. The man's touch is bordering on fridgid... if Stan needed ice, the man could just hold his ankle.

With that, the inprocessing begins.

The blonde woman on the business side of the table addresses Stan, "Hand over any electronics or weapons, a form of ID, and open any handbags for search. Please."

Yuri ignores Rain, focused on her conversation with Sakura, but the man doing the intake says, "Since like 6 o'clock last night, give or take. Fortunately our... boss..." and he glances at Yuri as he says this, "is a man of decisive action. As soon as he realized the problem, he started making decisions and put us to work. It's been a whirlwind of a night though."

When Stan asks who was in charge, the man just winks and hustles off to do something else that needs doing. The woman narrows her eyes for a moment. "Alright, I still need ID."

Yuri smiles. "I was born in Japan, and grew up there. As a young woman, I found my... partner. We travelled quite a bit. Eventually, we made our way to America. I've lived here since.

But no, things aren't normally like this. That said, you needn't worry about immigration. No one will come looking for you.

However... you have not said anything about your phone. We still need it, and ID."

Yuri narrows her eyes at Rain for a moment.

"Alright then." With that, she nods politely to Sakura and heads back into the building, quickly lost in the sea of people.

The two of you are let in as they begin to process the people behind you.

Stan, the blonde woman laughs. "Of course. We aren't keeping ID, just verifying who you are. They want to take electronics -- at least in the short term -- because they are worried an errant post might draw the attention of other survivors who may want to take resources. Makes a certain sense, y'know?"

She writes down some information and hands the passport back.

Amaresh, a man will take down your information and return your passport.

The three of you who haven't been checked with the wand will have it quickly passed over your front and back, and then all four of you are let into the Center House.

There are a lot of people here. A lot. But there is also food and drinks, and they are working on establishing sleeping facilities. It looks like it will be cots and sleeping bags for the most part. Well... sleeping bags at least. There are also some air mattresses, some real mattresses, blankets, even a few beanbag chairs. At the moment, they seem to be doing whatever they can to accomodate the mass of people gathered here.

Time ticks away, and the facility is chaotic. People are tired, but too wound up to rest. Still, the food and drink is comforting even if it's just stall-quality food cooked on a larger scale. Eventually, the PA system crackles and everyone takes note.

At one end of the Armory (or Center House if you prefer) at the top of some stairs is a section of walkway with a railing. You recognize Yuri, standing beside a well dressed man who was just handed a microphone."Good evening everyone. My name is William Bowman. I'm not one to mince words, tonight has been unlike any other -- a disaster we're still figuring out. It's been roughly eleven hours, and we don't know how or why. What we do know is the majority of the population simply seems to be... well, zombies is as good a term as any at this point." His voice is deep, strong, even a bit reassuring.

"Unfortunately, we don't have answers to speak of. Not yet, anyway. In the moment, we're just trying to survive. Our initial goal was to secure a large enough facility to house everyone we could rescue. Over the coming days, we'll be making The Armory as pleasant as possible. We ask for your cooperation and understanding as my associates and I work on these matters.

What I can tell you is this... outbreak, I guess we can call it... doesn't seem limited to Seattle. There are reports of the same thing in New York, Orlando, Los Angeles, Kansas City, Ontario, West Edmonton, Paris, Milan, Frankfurt, Hanover, Lucern, Dubai, St. Petersberg, Tokyo, Xi'an, Sydney, Cairo, Pretoria, Rio de Janerio... everywhere we've heard from is dealing with this.

Right now, the goal is to keep everyone we can safe.

Which is why you all were asked to turn in electronic devices. Currently, we don't know how many people are out there. However, we do know broadcasting about our survivor encampment, about food and shelter, has a very real chance of drawing unwanted attention from people willing to go to great lengths for supplies. They want to live, and don't care who they have to hurt to ensure their own survival.

We know a number of people kept their devicies. While I am not pleased, I do understand. It is my hope, that with better understanding of the situation and an amnesty period we can do the right thing and turn them in so we can all move on with surviving."

A huge retractable screen unrolls from the ceiling. Lights flicker across it as a projector begins. The image is paused.

"You may wish to have children look away, or if you are squeamish you may elect to as well."

After about 30 seconds, the image continues... it's a stream. Someone is filming live and broadcasting. The feed appears to be from up off the street levels, but zooms in to show a few average people overwhelmed by the zombies, biting and rending gobbets of flesh as the victims scream and blood flows.

The feed switches. The second broadcast is much the same but you recognize the Arc de Triomphe in the background. A third broadcast, somewhere there is a lot of sand. A fourth from inside the Tokyo airport.

It's horrific, and what's more disturbing is that it resonates in a way Hollywood magic doesn't... you can feel it in the pits of your stomachs, and you'd bet your life savings you aren't watching corn syrup and make up.

The entire facility is silent, too stunned to do or say much of anything.

The broadcast cuts off, and William speaks, his voice quiet and somber. "I trust you understand the severity of the situation. I wish we had more answers, but for now we simply don't. All we have is a pledge to keep you provided for and to keep you safe. We hope you'll do your part to help maintain that.

Allow me to introduce Yuri. Yuri Minamoto is my right hand. She speaks as I do. If I'm not present, consider her to be me. She will handle affairs during the day, and I will be active at night. I wish I could say I have an open door policy, but with over 900 people rescued I simply cannot, nor can she. Over the next day, we will be formalizing a system to provide points of contact for everyone. We ask you to bear with us as we truly get established.

For those who elected to keep your devices, the amnesty period ends at Sundown tonight. I hope you will be agreeable.

Thank you all for your time, and together we can find our way through whatever comes."

William hands off the microphone, and disappears down a hallway. The crowd picks up, murmuring. Many are still in shock and the news that whatever is happening is happening everywhere is more than some people can process.

A number of people involved with the rescue, including some still wearing their TSA jackets from the airport, will head off. Presumably, to sleep... the night has been trying on everyone.

The sun will be coming up shortly. You have roughly 15 hours to make your choices.

@Ledosero

As the four survivors meet back up to talk shop, a few things become readily obvious...

1-A. The people working for the group who orchestrated this emergency aid have made it obvious who they are via armbands.

1-B. You're certain there are some who are not wearing anything that denotes them as part of the "savior group." You can only speculate why they'd hide their affiliation.

1-C. You're certain some of the other survivors have already started working with (for?) the "savior group." You are sure they are survivors, because at least a few of them were on your flight.

2-A. Most standard exits have been boarded up or otherwise secured. The set of doors you entered through when you got off the bus is the only true entrance or exit.

2-B. There are some fire exits that don't appear to be barred from inside, but you don't know if they're blocked from the outside. The alarms do appear to still be functional, however.

2-C. Armed guards are posted at the doors. There are armed patrols that roam inside the Armory (usually groups of 2). There also has to be rooftop access... somewhere.

2-D. You may be able to exit via a second story window, if you can get into an office unnoticed.

3. There are numerous suitable weapons, improvised or otherwise. All of the food establishments have a variety of knives and kitchen tools. Some of the tables have umbrellas. Maintenance closets, while locked, have chemicals and cleaning supplies -- including brooms or mops.

4-A. The upstairs offices allchave simple, standard locks that would be easy enough to bypass.

4-B. There are doors that lead to basement level(s?) that are locked via key card, and would be difficult to bypass.

4-C. Because of the sheer number of people (both "saviors" and survivors) coupled with the security system, there seem to be very few blind spots -- and for those to work, you're hoping no other people happen upon your spot by dumb luck.

5-A. The security system, while unobtrusive, is expansive. Most of the cameras don't look like cameras.

5-B. You have no idea where all those cameras feed to.

6. Yuri has been ridiculously busy all day long.

The group, having decided to more or less play along for now, is able to rest up. It's warm, but sleep still comes if they allow it to. They rest of the day is relatively uneventful, the most excitement coming from the occassional round of gunfire from the roof.

Stan isn't able to get any real traction with volunteering. Maybe it's the limp, maybe it's just because it's the first real day and everyone is harried, but he's told to just relax.

About a half hour before sunset, two tables are set up directly underneath the balcony William addressed the survivors from, with chairs behind them and all the materials needed to collect any last minute turn-ins. There are also some large containers brought out and stacked in the hallway behind the tables.

Shortly after sundown, the PA system will crackle, and a moment later William appears at the balcony -- Yuri by his side -- as a half dozen people with armbands take seats at the tables.

"Good evening, survivors of Seattle. I hope the first day has treated you well -- all things considered, of course. This is a trying time for all of us, but we are committed to protecting who we can. Unfortunately, that means we have to consider risk factors from within. Not everyone may be concerned with opporational security to the same degree as the rest of us, and while it's hard... we have to prioritize the many over the few.

Which is why the first order of business for tonight is to address the amnesty period for electronic devices. You've had the day to think about the situation, weigh the pros and cons, and -- hopefully -- make a decision based on the facts as we know them, and not an emotional response.

This is the closure of the amnesty period. At this time, anyone with an electronic device may come forward and turn it in. It will be stored securely and, once we know the degree of threat any outsiders pose, eventually returned. Please, form lines at the tables below.

If you turn them in now, no harm no foul. We move forward. If you are found to have kept them later... well, we will cross that bridge should the need arise.

Let me ask... is anyone simply unwilling to turn in their device?"

At this point, a number of people are singled out. Every one of them -- a few dozen in total -- is moved to the front doors, and the containers stacked behind the amnesty tables are moved over as well.

William continues. "I appreciate your honesty. We will address your options shortly, once we verify if anyone else will be joining you."

For the moment, the PA system falls silent.

There are lines forming at the tables as people who had their own reservations choose to give in, and there are some people who seem unsure whether to join the lines or the people by the door.

For the moment, everyone is free to act.

If William hears Rain, he doesn't show it. He seems to be having a conversation with Yuri, although between not being able to hear them and a lack of body language you can't get a read on just what they're discussing. Although it does seem to be mostly William talking.

The person who collects your phones will write down your name, date of birth, and they even take a polaroid to put in the ziploc bag so the phones can be returned to their proper owner, thanking you upon completing the process.

All told, it takes between 45 minutes and an hour to either collect the remaining phones being turned in or shuffle some more folks over to the group who refused to turn in their devices.

Eventually, the PA system crackles and William speaks. "I'm glad to see so many have chosen to be reasonable and place the safety of our group as a priority as we move forward in these uncertain times.

For the small number who simply cannot do so... know that I respect your individualism and devotion to true freedom. Which is why the next step is one we take with heavy hearts. We cannot allow people who would put the rest of us in danger to remain within our walls. However, we are conflicted because we want you to thrive. So, even though I was advised not to use the resources, I have made my decision -- I will provide you the tools to gain a foothold in what's left of the world. Every person or group leaving us will be given those tools."

As soon as he mentioned kicking people out, a murmur erupts through the crowd... some people are against the idea, and some people are for it. Regardless, no one actually tries to stop it. And so, the exiles line up and the storage containers are opened, revealing backpacks.

Anyone with a keen eye and who is close enough to the doors to have a clear view will realize the backpacks seem to be color coded, and are given out based on the size of the group leaving together.
Individuals get black backpacks, groups of 2-3 get a grey and a red, 4-5 get one of each. They are then lead outside, and you can hear the city buses fire up.

"I wish they would have chosen differently, but we have to respect their choice," William says. "We've been hard at work today clearing out a cargo ship down on the waterfront, which is where they're being delivered. We have done everything we can to help them. I truly wish them the best."

There is a hint of sadness in his voice, but he pauses and sighs, taking a moment to refocus himself.

"For the rest of us, we have a secure location that we are improving hourly. We have some very talented individuals dedicated to keeping the power and water here at The Armory functioning for as long as possible. Over the next few days, we will be establishing how everyone can contribute to our community. Together, we can survive this."

As the PA system falls silent and William begins to leave the balcony with Yuri, one of their people rushes forward and quickly takes a knee, looking to the ground. A moment later, he rises and dashes off out of sight. Yuri takes off running herself. William simply heads down the stairs, vanishing from sight.

Over the next few days, The Armory seems almost boring. The group of survivors are talked to -- interviewed really -- to find what tasks they may be able to help with.

Stan's knowledge of computers and languages gets him hired on for radio watch. It's below his abilities by a country mile, but he sits in a quiet room and monitors the shortwave radio. It seems that the exiles have a ham radio, and there is an agreement in place that they make contact twice a day. Beyond that, he monitors for any survivor radio activity. It's boring, but it's easy and it keeps him off his feet. On the bright side, it's in a small office on the second floor. However, he's never left alone.

Amaresh is put on watch. She isn't armed, but she's given binoculars and tasked with keeping an eye out for zombies... but more importantly, for anything not dead that's out moving around. She's part of a group that patrols the rooftop.

Rain and Sakura are kept together. The two find themselves helping with food. It's not glamorous, but it's something to do. They also get to eat whenever they want, which is nice. Additionally, depending on what they're actually doing on a particular day, they interact directly with a lot of the other survivors.

Everyone seems to work during the day, which makes meeting up to talk shop and gossip easy.

Every night, box trucks drop of a myriad of goods. Slowly but surely, real beds are being brought in. Areas are being sectioned off in an attempt to give families a modicum of privacy. It's like a cubicle farm... but for sleeping.

Even the food comes in at night. Rain and Sakura have noticed that it is only ever some of the saviors that go out.

While privacy is almost non-existant, and sharing a complex with hundreds of others isn't ideal... for what it's worth, it certainly does feel safe in here.

Stan doesn't handle the shortwave seven days a week, so finding time to chat with the other operator reveals they also have a person with them watching "the comms."

There also don't seem to be many people working on the upper floor... at least, regarding people who aren't part of the providing group. A handful of people pass through the second floor on their way to stand watch on the roof, but even then the majority have armbands. Amaresh is one of about only a half dozen rescues that stand watch, and there's never more than two survivors to a shift... the rest are armbands.

Sakura and Rain will tell Stan that, generally, they have some oversight but it's minimal.

Two weeks pass. It's amazing how quickly things become routine.

It has been an interesting time. The Armory has certainly been effective in keeping their survivors safe from wandering zombies. The main floor has become a field of temporary-wall cubicles serving as bedrooms and affording a touch of privacy. Proper beds have been moved in at least.

Still, with hundreds of survivors, cramped is an understatement.

The food situation is solid, too. Some people act like they're being deprived, but the truth is they're just not letting most people have unlimited food. Meal planning and serving/portion control are in effect, but no one is going without. Meals are balanced, and everyone is getting 2200 calories in a day. The people complaining are really objecting to being told "no."

Hygiene is probably in the roughest spot. The Seattle Center House wasn't designed (redesigned, really) to have that type of facility. Still... members of the night crew have been renovating to expand showers. As it is, everyone has a scheduled shower time. Twice a week is suboptimal, but better than nothing.

Eventually, everyone has a morning when they wake up feeling absolutely drained. Not sick... not really... it doesn't feel like being hungover either. They just feel wrecked. More like their battery is low, so to speak. At least they shake it off quick enough.

All things considered, it's not a bad set-up. And yet...

You've began to really question just how much authority Yuri has. Everyone with an armband during the day reports to her. A lot even seem wary (if not downright scared) of her. Hell, most of the night shift reports to her and many of them have a similar reaction to her -- wariness if not fear. The only person she seems to report to is William. A man who, frankly, everyone seems deferential towards.

Then, it happens.

A big guy, late 30s biker with the whole "I'm a badass" vibe threw a fit because he wanted extra portions of food, arguing it takes a lot more fuel for the muscles he was packing. When the server -- a rescued survivor -- told him no, the biker grabbed him by the neck and lifted him clean off the ground. Yuri appeared at his side, out of nowhere.

"You have one chance to put him down, before your arm workout routine becomes the wheelchair you spend the rest of your life in."

The biker drops the server, who hastily scrambles away. Turning to Yuri, he growls, "Take off that piece and we'll see who needs a wheelchair."

The smile the spreads across Yuri's face is unsettling. She's as pretty as ever... but the confidence it displays as she faces down someone easily 16 inches taller and at least two and a half times her body weight... onlookers (which is everyone at this point) get the impression there is a snake and a mouse in this fight... and Yuri isn't the mouse.

She pulls her pistol from its holster, holding it to the side. One of the Armbands rushes up to carefully take it, backing away just as fast. The smile never leaves Yuri's face as she sweeps her right foot from in front of her to behind her in a half-circle, lowering her center of gravity. The biker scoffs and tries to end the fight in a single punch, swinging for the fences.

Yuri catches his fist in her hand, and the biker barely had time to look shocked before Yuri rotates her hand and -- with her free hand -- uppercuts the man's elbow. The crack is sickening, and he begins screaming. It's obvious he's trying to pull away from the diminutive Japanese woman, but she doesn't budge. She seems to let him struggle, before pivoting on her left foot and driving her right heel through the man's kneecap. Bone tears through his calf as blood flows freely. The man is struggling to stand, as Yuri drops his fist. Still smiling, she moves around behind him and lines up, punching the battered biker dead center in the back. His body tries to fold, as if he suddenly had a second waist. He crumples, screaming stopped as he seems to have gone into shock.

Yuri holds her hand out, and the Armband returns her sidearm. She starts to walk off, stopping and looking back. She fires the pistol once, shooting the man in his unbroken leg before chuckling and walking off.

No one tries to stop her.

A deafening silence grips the Armory, the only sounds coming from some Armbands trying to load the man onto a gurney to be wheeled off somewhere downstairs.

Neither of you know if leaving is still an option, as no one has left since the initial group was exiled. The next few days are tense, but otherwise business as usual. Most people have started giving Yuri a much wider berth. She seems like nothing happened. No one has addressed the incident, either... which is what some people find most disconcerting.

Four days after the incident, Stan is on radio duty while Amaresh is providing watch from the roof. The Armband watching over Stan seems a little uneasy. With time, Stan realizes the guy seems to be queasy. Eventually, he barks, "Behave yourself," and dashes out the door with a hand clamped over his mouth. Stan isn't sure how long he has... but he's alone with the radio to the exiles on the container ship.

For Amaresh, it's actually a beautiful day. Sunny and warm... from the stories, you wondered if Seattle was ever not rainy. Today has actually been rather delightful (all things considered).

As Stan works the radio, he knows the frequency the ship broadcasts on. After a few minutes of reaching out, he gets a reaponse as the line crackles.
"Armory, this is the S.S. Pelican. We are docked at Terminal 5. We were not advised there would be others joining us. Is this... being permitted? Over."

"Will notify watch. Over and out."

The radio goes quiet, and Stan is left in silence for a few more minutes before the Armband returns. "Thanks for staying put and not making things harder on both of us." He returns to his chair by the door. He picks up his book, and goes back to reading.

If you were standing outside of The Armory, looking at the doors that seem to be the primary doors to the stronghold, the offices and their windows are on the left wall.

The only cover to speak of is on the right side of the building -- a roof over the otherwise outdoor monorail. Otherwise, the Seattle Center is a fairly open space. Which is great if you need to see anything approaching... not so great if you're trying to remain unseen. There are trees dotted throughout the space, but nothing resembling any appreciable cover.

The second floor offices all have windows. The inside row has windows that look out into The Armory (it's easy for Stan to people watch the hundreds of survivors if he wants) and the outside row has windows looking outside. As survivors aren't allowed on the second floor without an escort, Stan isn't sure if the office doors are locked or not. The door to his radio room doesn't seem to be locked, but he is always relieving someone -- the radio room is never empty. Conversely, only sometimes does he see people in the other offices.

Fire sensors are spaced at regular intervals, and Rain and Sakura can tell you most of the food stalls seem to have a lighter of some sort.

They remember from driving up there are no gutters on the building. It would also be difficult to scale the wall, due to large areas of relatively smooth surface. It's also tall enough that dropping from the roof doesn't seem viable.

With most external doors boarded up, the main doors seem like the only point to just walk in or out. Second story windows are the highest you think it would be reasonably safe to drop from. The left side seems easiest... the right side has a barrier/doorway in the hall, about there was a lower roof you could potentially drop onto.

(You would have seen older photos of the Seattle Center. There was a row of carny games outside, and while the games have been gone for years no one changed the actual building... meaning the roof is still halfway between floors.)

There is the personnel door that leads downstairs, to the maintenence tunnels.

Both the tunnel door and the stairs to the second floor have a posted guard.

"What the hell are you doing?" the armband walking with Stan will look at him, clearly unimpressed. "You aren't even subtle... What are you up to?"

"Bullshit," the man snaps. "Quit fucking around. Don't make shit harder on either of us, yeah?"

Amaresh isn't entirely certain, but she vaguely remembers a conversation from her youth where the word "Kindred" was used -- a foreigner was asking about legends regarding Impundulu. It only stands out to her because many people laughed at the foreigner... but not her uncle. Which was odd, because he laughed at everything.

Unfortunately, no one outside of Yuri seems to be seen with William with any regularity. Even the night crew seems to exhibit a certain deference to the man.

If Stan mentions wanting a meeting to one of the armbands, their eyes get a bit wide and they quickly tell him that even though they're part of his organization, they don't speak to him unless he speaks to them first.

"It's bad form," the guard says. "The height of impropriety, considering our station."

Stan notices not too many people talk to William directly -- at least not out in public. He notices a few though. The man is... big. You get the impression he's never seen a 45 pound plate he didn't like. You've seen him around a bit, he's usually all smiles and laughs. Never spoken to him, of course, even though he does mingle on the floor a bit.

When you see him go up to William, you notice William actually smiles. You also notice the two men talk. That is, when people do speak to William they do so quickly, and then they're off. However, William and this other man spend a solid two hours in conversation. Even when Yuri comes up, she seems to greet the other man with a laugh and a smile. You've seen her, every night... although it took a while to realize it was the same woman each night. Every night, she looks different. Her hair, her piercings, her tattoos. The only two constants are 1. She dresses about as lasciviously as possible while still being dressed, and 2. She is never without her entourage of ridiculously pretty people. (You've even noticed her eyeballing Rain on multiple occasions.)

The entourage is left behind when she approaches William. After a few words, the very petite woman shifts into a much more aggressive posture: fists on her hips, feet shoulder width apart, chest forward and shoulders back, and even though she has to look up at the much taller man it still feels like she's looking down.

William seems unimpressed, but after a minute or two of her posturing he stops leaning on the rail and pulls himself up to his full height, adjusting the wrist of his dress shirt sleeve as he glares daggers through her. Eventually after some more talking, she visibly deflates. William doesn't back down though, instead stepping towards her. She actually shrinks away, a far cry from her prior bravado. She nods her head as William speaks, and when he finishes he goes back to leaning on the railing. Suddenly they both laugh, and she walks -- no, skips -- off, rejoining her entourage and heading back to the flood.

Unfortunately, the next few nights show no consistancy with who William talks to. Indeed, outside of Yuri it truly is rare to see him talk with anyone except in passing.

You don't see the big man too often, but when you do see him he certainly isn't working. He seems to just sort of be "around." There are, however, some of the savior group that seem to report to him -- including some of the armbands. At least a few of which take shifts on the rooftop of the Armory.

Over the three days, Amaresh notices a few people talk with William. She's exhausted the first night and misses anyone talking to the man in charge.

The second night, she sees the big black man. Again, it's smiles and warm greetings -- even with Yuri. He and William talk for a bit before Yuri returns and pulls William away with a clipboard and look of concern.

Considerably later on, Amaresh also notices two different women approach William. Well... the first comes through the front doors like she owns the place, black hair pulled back as her riding boots seem to stomp the floor with every step, unzipping her leather jacket as she sashays her way through the Armory. Considering the distinct sound of a motorcycle before she burst into the building, it makes sense. She bounds up the stairs and makes a beeline for William, bowing briefly as she arrives in front of him.The second woman just seems to be behind William. In fact, Amaresh isn't entirely sure how long the pale redhead had even been standing there. The woman never walked up, that's for sure... right? She watched impassively as the first woman approached, and the three walked off down the hall, no doubt to an office.On the third night, while Amaresh is looking for who might approach William, she notices something more subtle... William makes eye contact multiple times with an individual wandering through the main floor of the Armory. Thinking back, Amaresh realizes this isn't the first time the two seemed to interact at a distance. Amaresh will ask some of the armbands on the roof about the big guy. "Why, you looking for spiritual guidance in the end of the world? Need to confess? Mister Zubira is a... practicing Catholic. Sort of the resident man of the cloth."

Amaresh won't get an introduction, but she gets a lead... they just have to wait till Sunday.

Sam will find out that not a lot of people seem to know the name. Initially it's enough to make him wonder if this Zubira only does private church services for the group of rescuers or something. He'll run across one elderly woman who smiles at the name, however.

"Oh yes... nice man, nice man. Services tomorrow night. Doesn't make a big deal about them, trusts that if people seek the Lord, then He will bring them to Church. So much faith in that man. We need more like him... now more than ever."

The woman seems crestfallen, as the truth about the state of the world weighs on her. However, after a moment she shakes her head and smiles. "'Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.' Matthew 6:34. Mister Zubira has reminded me to let go of worry, and have faith in Him." She pauses, seemingly lost in thought for a few long moments. "I never dreamed my last days would be spent like this... but He saw fit to bless me with protectors and safety, an oasis in... whatever is happening out there. If... you'll excuse me..."

The woman leans on her can as she stands, and tottles off towards one of the restrooms. It's easy to tell by her tone... she isn't convinced... but the two can't help but feel her Faith is all the woman may have left at this point.

Sunday rolls around, and the duo find services are held downstairs in a former souvenir shop at 10:00pm.

The merch has been removed, along with racks and shelves, to make room for seats. It's rather tight quarters, but two dozen people can fit inside. Stan and Amaresh bring the total to 11. There is a simple lectern at the front (likely where the register and its counter once stood) with a white linen draped over the front showing a simple golden cross embroidered on it.

The man you have learned is named Zubira enters the room with a bible under his arm, and a smile on his face. He is bigger in person, and while he is well dressed in a tailored black suit with white undershirt and black tie -- complete with a gold tie clasp with a crucifix -- he looks like the most well dressed wall you have ever seen.

"Good evening to you all," he begins. Amaresh can almost place his accent... central African, perhaps? He might be losing thenaccent with time... that might explain why it seems a bit off.

"I see we have new faces! This always pleases me! I am Jubari Zubira. Many call me Mr. Zubira, because I am not truly a priest and so I hold no official title or rank within the church. What I am, is a man of God who feels it is my duty to be there for those who might seek Him out in these dark times. I believe His word is relevant now more than ever, and if His word brings comfort or reassurance to those in need then I am called to provide that. I was raised Catholic, however... I welcome all faiths, because I believe we worship the same God."

He is a practiced orator, who balances just the right amount of ceremony with just the right amount of casual. Maybe it's his sermon, maybe it's his smile, but by the time it's over you can't help but feel a bit reassured.

About 25 minutes after he begins, he wraps up his sermon. After leading the assembled survivors in prayer, he says, "I will be staying here to talk for those who need it. Whether you need confession, advice, or God's word... please line up outside the door and I shall call you in to speak with me."

Most of those assembled are leaving, and Jubari stands at the door and shakes everyone's hand as they exit. A few line up outside.

@Alordis do you want to lead the conversation with Zubira?

The man smiles. "Of course! These are trying times, and I believe it is my responsibility to help those who believe hold onto their faith. It feels like it might be all we have left." His smile falters a bit as his eyes shift up, over Amaresh's head and seems to focus on something a distance away. He sighs and smiles again, bearing a hint of sadness this time.

"In all my years, in all my travels, I have seen a great many things. The best and worst of mankind, the majesty of His creation. But... in these nights, I can understand why some are having a crisis of faith."

Focusing on the two before him, he snaps back to his jovial demeanor. "But... I feel you and your friend are not truly here for matters of faith. What can Jubari do for you, Sister?"