Lyla and yoU

(if: $show_header)[ <sub><center>{(link:"Save Progress")[ (if:(save-game:$name))[ (print: "Save Successful!") ](else: )[ (print: "An error occurred while saving.") ] ]} | {(link: "Load Progress")[(load-game:$name)]}</center></sub> <sub><center>(print: (passage:)'s name)</sub></center>]

{ (set: $show_footer to false) (set: $show_header to false) (set: $timer to 4) (set: $you_brought to 0) (set: $choice_temp to 0) (set: $lyla_score to 0) (set: $rocket_score to 0) (set: $dorothy_score to 0) (set: $storymark to 0) (set: $lyla_quest1 to false) (set: $lyla_quest2 to false) (set: $rocket_quest1 to false) (set: $rocket_quest2 to false) (set: $choice_wwgd to false) (set: $choice_heron to false) (set: $choice_food to 0) }

# LYLA & YOU ## an interactive webnovel ### by Jon Farrar (link: "Begin")[(set: $name to (prompt: "What is your name?", "Jon")) (goto: "Is this you?")]

(if: $name is "")[It's okay, I just want to know what to call you. I'm Lyla...what's your name? (link-undo: "Click here to try again.")] (else:) [(if: (saved-games: ) contains $name) [Hi again, $name! It's good to see you as always! Would you like to pick up where we left off? (link: "Yes.")[(load-game:$name)] (link-undo: "No, let me give you a different name.") (link: "No, I want to start over.")[{ (set: $show_header to true) (set: $show_footer to true) (goto: "Intro") }]] (else:) [Hi, $name, I'm Lyla, nice to meet you! Do you want me to keep calling you by $name? (link: "Yes.")[{ (set: $show_header to true) (set: $show_footer to true) (goto: "Intro") }] (link-undo: "No.")]]

Cool! I've got a few options for you here, $name. You can follow me to the prologue if you want, and read a scene from my point of view. If this is your first time, I recommend starting there. Or you can jump ahead to your part where you visit my library. And under that line, there's some links that'll give you extra help and information. Now, I'm gonna go set up the projector...it's movie night at the CTPL, and you're invited! (set: $show_footer to true) [[Read the Prologue|Prologue 1]] (set: $show_header to true) [[Begin the Story|CTPL Exterior]] --- (link-reveal: "How to Progress")[: Thanks for joining me for this story—as Dorothy would say, you're, like, totally awesome! For you, it'll read like text, and you'll click the links on each page to go to the next. Sometimes you'll see one link that says "Next". Sometimes you'll be presented with multiple options, and you'll have to click whichever link corresponds to your choice. Don't sweat the decision-making too much, though. I've got a pretty good idea of where I'm headed, so the road map is pretty much laid out. Just be yourself and have fun—that's what I plan on doing!] (link-reveal: "Saving and Loading Your Progress")[: One of the reasons I asked your name is so we can tie it to your progress. At the top of the screen, once the story gets started, you'll see options to save and load your progress. Simply click the link to save, and Lyla & You will save to your browser's localStorage. To load, click the load button...or, when you're first coming back to Lyla & You, offer a name you've saved under before, and I should be able to recognize you. Just remember these couple things: 1) progress is saved per device. And 2) if cookies are disabled, you're in a private/incognito browser, or anything else that might prohibit your browser saving data to your system, saves will also fail.] (link-reveal: "Content Warnings")[: This story contains scenes depicting violence, blood and gore, and occasional swearing. There is frequent mention of cities in ruins, of apocalypse and riot, and similarly desolate imagery, If there are any other warnings you feel appropriate for Lyla & You and you feel comfortable doing so, please leave a comment on the Lyla & You page.]

{ (live: 1s)[ (if: $timer is 0)[ (stop:) (goto: "Prologue 2") ] (else: )[ (if: $timer is 4)[(transition: "dissolve")[Lyla?!]] (if: $timer is 3)[(transition: "dissolve")[Lyla...?]] (if: $timer is 2)[(transition: "dissolve")[Where are...]] (if: $timer is 1)[(transition: "dissolve")[...aww...]] (set: $timer to it - 1) ] ] }

(set: $show_header to true) My body gathers air for a reply, which pushes me up against...something. The sensation makes me realize I'm not asleep at home in bed, which urges me to wakefulness, but only barely. A hand runs through my hair, and my heavy eyelids creak open. There's a petite woman in a flowy dress, but I don't quite recognize her until a blaze of orange flares out from behind her—her fox tail. “Mom!” I gasp, jolting upright on my soft chair. “It's alright,” my mom Alyce coos to me, just as softly as she would a child. “I wanted to return the cookbook I borrowed, and stop in to see you while I was at it. But when the library wasn't open, I got sort of worried and used my key to get in.” “Oh.” I feel awkward; I usually have the library open by 7 AM, but, uh, I guess I fell asleep on my desk instead. “Sorry for worrying you.” Mom chuckles, still speaking softly. “Oh, sweetie, I found you here in the interview room right away, and your tail was wagging in your sleep. It was easy to see you were okay.” “Yeah, but...” Mom reaches through my hair again. “I'm just glad you're okay.” My eyes avert from hers anyway—it's a habit of mine. I mean, I try to look near people, but looking too close to their eyes is...I dunno. I look up at Mom's fox ears instead, twin peaks of brilliant orange to match her tail. Her ears do a little twitch, as if to wave back at me. Mom takes a seat opposite me on the dark red couch, as is typical in this room of the library. On most days, I just come in here for breaks and lunches. Sometimes, I get to host someone here and interview them, so I can write a biography about them. And last night, it was my studio apartment, while I stayed up late with my latest find. “So what were you studying?” Mom asks. “I've got some time before the bake sale starts.” After a glance at the clock, she adds, “It starts at 8...I was aiming to be there at 7:30 to set up, but I'll make it 7:40.” Mom gestures to my desk, where a myriad of research materials had collectively served as my pillow. “It looks related to your special interest, so...I'll run fast.” [[Next|Prologue 3]]

I'm so glad to hear that. Mom had taken it upon herself to work in the present, such as with the bake sale. It had been a frequent fundraising favorite of hers ever since I was a little girl; the funds would go into the school district, to secure enrichment for all the children living here in Cross Town, and in our sister city, River City. In contrast, she had no more than a glancing interest in the old world—but then, most people aren't interested in the old world as deeply as I am. To have Mom show that sort of interest in my work, despite a low interest in the subject matter, warms my heart. Unfortunately, I can't articulate any of that. I'm too tired. Instead, I stagger over to Mom and give her a hug. “Thanks,” I say. Both Mom and I are surprised at how flatly it comes out. I'm quick to make a joke of it, though; I hold a hand aloft like an opera singer and strike a note in that same tone. “La~” Mom giggles and sings right back to me. “lll~La~” Her note comes out with a sort of hum at the start, then pushes out with a crisp and clear sound that matches my pitch. She'd been awake for longer than me, but it's still a shock, just how much more pep she's got than I do. “You sound like you need a pick-me-up, Lyla. Coffee or mate?” Mom disengages from the hug, doubtlessly headed to a table against a wall of the break room. “No, Mom, I'll...” When I move to stop Mom, though, my body revolts. Protests flare up from my neck and just about every nerve below. I guess my sleeping position wasn't too kind to myself. Instead of fighting her, I sink back into the couch. “...mate.” Nearest the exit, I have a coffee machine set up set up on a folding table. One day, I'll spring for a sink with counter-top space, but in the meantime, this setup works. Up against the wall are all my boxes and jars—I've got tea, cocoa, coffee, sugary drinks, you name it. I listen as Mom drags my glass jar of roasted yerba mate forward and pops open the lid. “Mm,” Mom hums, “I always love this smell.” I stretch out on the couch, still in yesterday's outfit—a light pink shirt and blue jeans—and close my eyes as I continue to listen. [[Next|Prologue 4]]

As I listen to Mom go, there's a deep boing, no doubt the gallon jug of water also kept on the table for the sake of filling the coffee machine. It too is a temporary measure. I get filtered tap water from my sink at home and leave it here. I pack it in a cooler and it typically stays cold, unless, uh, I happen to leave it there overnight. But hey, it's getting boiled and mixed into something delicious. Ain't no high life, but it's my life. Eventually, I roll to my side, which orients me to face my desk. My eyes open a little bit to see the desk, and Mom's offer to speak comes to mind. “Oh,” I gasp, “I think I found a lead on some pre-apocalyptic ruins.” Judging by what I hear, Mom had been pouring water as I spoke, and stopped shortly after the sentence ended. “Sorry, you what?” I groan a little as I pull myself upright on the back of the couch. I get my knees up under me, but I'm still sleepy, so I steady myself with my arms upon the couch. “I said I found a lead on a ruin that sounds cool.” Yeah, now that I'm looking, I can see Mom had stopped pouring to listen. With my piece spoken, Mom turns back to the coffee maker to finish preparations. Usually she's enthusiastic about my endeavors, but here she's quiet, and I can guess why. Once the machine gurgles to life, Mom sits back down with me, and the two of us let the coffee maker do its thing. Eventually, it'll work its way up to dribbling hot water across the yerba mate, and the glass pot will catch the infused water while a paper filter keeps the plant matter separate. It's not exactly the traditional way to make mate, but it's what I've got. While it begins its first steps, Mom finally speaks up. “I don't think any of those ruins are cool,” she admits. “They're so dangerous...I worry enough when you go to Old Hollywood, and that's six hours away. Those maps on your desk didn't look like they were around here.” “...nope,” I crack immediately. The truth would be even scarier to a worried mother, but it's far too early to lie, not that I'm any good at it anyway. “It's on the eastern side of the continent.” “Oh goodness...” Mom's ears fall flat for a bit. [[Next|Prologue 5]]

I was right about why she's so upset; traveling across the country is just as dangerous as scavenging the ruins. In both cases, I've gotta worry about the same mutants that heralded the apocalypse in the first place. In ages past, a chemical weapon devastated the planet's ecosystem. There's an “antidote” to Agent Venom that's been found and reproduced and mass-produced and all that, but there isn't enough to go spreading it everywhere. Folks are mostly clumped into city-states where the “antidote” has been concentrated, but that still leaves huge swathes of wilderness between them. So I get why Mom worries, but...that's where the fun is...! Finally, mate begins to drip into the coffee pot, and Mom's anguished expression relaxes at the sound. “...well,” she sighs, “what's over there that has you so interested? Is it not something you could find in some closer ruins?” Truthfully, it's hard to know. “Some of it, maybe,” I answer, and my wishy-washy feeling on it comes out in my tone of voice. “Last time I went to Old Hollywood, I found a letter.” It's right over there on my desk, but I still don't feel much like going to get it. I remember what it says, though...or at least the gist of it. “It was probably from some sort of preservation group.” “Probably?” Before I can explain that, Mom gets up again. She grabs one of the mugs I have set out for hot drinks—it's a souvenir from my own era, a white cup with the striking red image of the bridge connecting Cross Town to River City. She pulls the coffee pot away from its spot, so that she can move the mug directly under the trickle of mate instead. “Can you do me a favor, and not travel so far on a 'probably', Lyla?” “Mom...” Instinctively, I go to argue, but she's got a point. I've been to a few different ruins, but never ones so far away. “...yeah. I wasn't gonna go right away.” I mean, I was sorta thinking of checking out the mountains, since I've never even been past them, but... Mom switches the coffee pot back into place and hands me the first of the mate that's collected in the mug. It's extremely hot, so I take the tiniest sip I can manage. It's bitter and earthy and delicious, and it doesn't have that...that bite that coffee has. Focusing on the sensations of drinking the mate helps me forget everything else for a moment. [[Next|Prologue 6]]

The first thought to come back to me is the most exciting, the point I've been trying to work up to. “Mom, I think I found an old world film vault!” I blurt. My tail becomes a frenzied metronome behind me. For a moment, all Mom can do is laugh. “Wow, that mate really works!” she jokes. I mean, she definitely knows my two most intense special interests are movies and the old world. This reaction of mine is not just the mate talking. She sits back down with me before she continues speaking. “How did you find out about such a thing? That letter...?” “Yeah, that's what I was trying to tell you!” I give the old, half-deteriorated letter to Mom so she can see it, but I still mainline it for her. “The part I can still read says that, uh, something has been declared a culturally significant film, and whoever sent the letter already has a copy of the film from...an office.” Even in its condition, the letter had been an extremely lucky find; it had been still sealed in a pre-apocalyptic envelope, which didn't protect it entirely, but it would have fared far worse without the envelope. “...wow,” Mom muses. I can't see her face because the old letter is in the way. “Okay, I understand why you'd travel all that way now.” My head lops to the side, and my dog ears flop unevenly around me. “You do...?” “Yeah!” Mom reaches out and fusses with my ears so they don't hide my eyes. “This is from someone who was collecting movies to build a broad look into the culture of the people who used to live here. That...that sounds like you!” “...yeah, it does!” I gasp. I hadn't even thought of that. “I mean, I don't necessarily trust their opinions on what is or is not significant. But they must have at least one movie I haven't seen yet.” Mom laughs again. “Good. Just remember to practice those study habits in the present, too.” I appreciate her advice, but I still groan at it. She's told me this before, when I was younger. [[Next|Prologue 9]]

“I know I've told you this before,” Mom continues. She read my groan perfectly. “But you'll be so far away.” She pats my hand and adds, “I want you to remember that when you do travel.” “Thanks, Mom.” I lay my other hand on top of hers. “I will.” Mom and I smile at each other a bit, and my eyes avert again, this time toward the coffee maker. “But I'm not doing a fuckin' thing until I finish that mate.” “Lyla! Language...!” Mom can't even finish scolding me before I burst out laughing. I swore just to be silly, because she used to scold me about swearing all the time when I was little. I wonder if she even meant to, since she only ever got on my case about it so I wouldn't fall back on swearing to convey every last thought of mine, the way Dad does. Which...I get her point, sometimes Dad lays it on so thick, no one can tell what he's trying to say anymore. I still have some trouble with speaking up and communicating, but vocabulary isn't one of them. By now, the coffee machine has used the last of its water, so I move to shut it off and pour the rest of the mate into my cup. “Did you want somethin', Mom?” I ask, gesturing to the coffee machine. Mom's ears twitch. “Oh, yes, could you put some mate on for me? But I'm going to add sugar and cocoa mix to mine!” I leave that to Mom. For now, I just replace the yerba mate up top with unused leaves, set the soggy leaves aside—they'll be compost later—refill the water chamber, and turn the machine back on. Leaving that to Mom...that gives me an idea. “Maybe I should ask someone to come with me,” I say as I work. “What's that?” Mom asks behind me. Oh, oops...I guess I did say that right toward this loud-ass machine. “I said,” I repeat as I turn around, “maybe I should ask someone to come with me.” After all, I have a little better idea of who I can trust around here. [[Next|Prologue 10]]

“Oh, fun!” It's Mom's turn to kneel on the couch and wag her tail. “Who were you thinking of inviting?” I shrug. “I dunno yet, I just came up with the idea.” I don't know anyone else who's left town. “I dunno if Dorothy would go, but $name might.” I step aside as the coffee machine begins to issue its first drops. Mom takes the implicit invitation, and immediately moves to take another mug and pour sweets into it. She's chosen the mug with “Cross Town Public Library” written along it—my library. I don't have a snappy logo to put on there like the Bridge Preservation Society does. “You should ask Nicole,” Mom advises me as we stand together, waiting for her brew to finish. “She's been to the eastern coast! Maybe she can give you advice.” “Nicole...?” I repeat. My shoulders sag and my ears droop. “Nicole's scary...” “Don't be scared.” Mom smiles at me before turning to fill her cup with mate and mix her chocolate into it. “Nicole likes you, sweetie. And she knows she can't hurt you too badly, or Grizz and I will come for her.” Even so, I still think I'd rather fight a glow bear than Nicole Ellery. And I go asking any of her, anything at all, she's gonna wanna fight someone... “...uh,” I mumble into my cup, “maybe I should take another look around Old Hollywood.” And before I do any of that, I've got an important shift at the library today...because it's movie night! [[Later that night...|CTPL Exterior]]

You stand outside Cross Town Public Library. You've seen restaurants around town that are bigger than the library, but within its cradle lies one of the broadest repositories of knowledge in the area. Despite its small and humble figure, its timbers stand tough against the autumn breeze. The sun has only just begun to set behind the building, but that wind brings the chill of night quickly behind you. It's either that chill that's causing folks to rush into the building ahead of you, or the event promised on the library's marquee-style sign. (set: $timer to 4) Once the crowd thins out a little, and the wind stops blustering through the fall-tinged trees for a moment, you can finally see the sign. { (set: $choice_temp to 0) (set: $lyla_score to 0) (set: $rocket_score to 0) (set: $dorothy_score to 0) (set: $storymark to 0) } ### PRE-VENOM ### MOVIE NIGHT ### “EEGAH” ### 8 – 10 PM Past the sign is the front door, and there stands an unmistakable figure. Her outfit is a hodgepodge of plain colors, blue jeans and a pink shirt huddled beneath a green dress. As she moves to greet the crowd and usher them indoors, her beagle-like ears flop around with every move she makes. Without a doubt, this is Lyla Brangwyn, owner and operator of the Cross Town Public Library. Most of the people she greets, she greets them nonverbally, with smiles and nods and waves and gestures to head on in. When she reaches you, though, she gasps and her face lights up. “Hi $name!” Lyla greets you. “What brings you here?” (link: "Movie night.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (goto: "CTPL Entrance") }] (link: "A book.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (goto: "CTPL Entrance") }] (link: "Just getting out of the cold.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 3) (goto: "CTPL Entrance") }]

[[pregame test link|Is this you?]]

Oh, o-of course!” Lyla pauses to step inside so she can close the door. (if: $choice_temp is 1)[“Tonight's movie is one I dug up myself. It's called 'Eegah', and it's...well, I don't think we'll be taking it all that seriously.” Such is the fate of most movies Lyla and the audience don't like. She's not afraid to screen bad movies, especially bad movies made in the time before Agent Venom, before the apocalypse. If you asked Lyla, she'd tell you she's trying not to impart her biases. But you get the feeling Lyla just likes bad movies, pre-apoc or no.](else:)[“But it might get loud out here. We're putting on a movie, and from what I can tell...” Suddenly, she hesitates. “...uh, it sucks.” Being so disparaging to someone else's creative work obviously isn't easy on her. “The interview room should be pretty quiet, though! There's hot drinks and comfy chairs in there, and you can bring whatever book you want with you.”] After a short bow, Lyla smiles to you and takes a few steps into the building. “It's good to see you as always, $name!” Then she scampers off into the library, leaving you by the front desk. (set: $storymark to it + 1) She seems to trust you to find your way around, and it's easy to see why. Most of the building is one wide, open room that looms to your left as you enter; at least, it would be one wide, open space were it not filled with rows of wooden bookcases. Two axes, one of pre- and post-apocalyptic origin and one of fiction and nonfiction, combine to sort the books into four quadrants. Behind the front desk are two doors. The one nearest to you leads to a quiet break room, and the other leads to the projection room where the screening of “Eegah” will be taking place. While the room has been painted a pleasant dark shade of brown, to match the wood of the bookshelves, the entryway is no place to linger. [[Go to the projection room.|CTPL Projection Room, Before the Movie]] [[Go to the bookshelves.|CTPL Collection]]

Like most of the folks who entered the building ahead of you, you go to the rear room of the library. There, a mix of folding chairs and long wooden benches provide seating in front of a large canvas. Between the canvas and the lighter brown of the walls in here, the vibe is much different than in the main room. Behind the last row of seats, there's a small room where the film projector is set up. Lyla is undoubtedly in that other room, because her voice comes into the room you're seated in via loudspeaker. “Welcome to the Cross Town Public Library,” she says. “I'm turning off the lights now, and starting the movie soon.” True to her word, the lights come off, and the projector flares to life, casting a glow on the canvas opposite its bulb. “Tonight's movie is 'Eegah', a pre-apocalyptic film that seems to be about some teenagers who stumble across a giant from a bygone era. You know me, I like to stumble across things from bygone eras, but...if you want me to roast this one, I will, okay?” That raises enthusiastic support from the moviegoers in the room, support emphasized by their cheers and applause. “Hey now,” Lyla chides them playfully, “you might like this one! You probably won't, but you might!” This raises a laugh from some of the audience. “Okay, let's get this movie rolling! 'Eegah' in three, two, one...” From there, the room goes quiet as the movie ambles to life. Well, perhaps “life” isn't quite the word—the music is so barebones that it threatens to fail to meet the bare minimum of being considered music at all, while the opening credits are painted atop some desiccated corpses. This opening, short as it is, makes such a poor impression on some of the audience that they begin clamoring for Lyla's intervention already. The next shots, depicting a young lady going clothes shopping at night, don't quiet them any. “Hold on,” Lyla assures the crowd. “Let's let them set up the plot a little first.” [[Next|CTPL Projection Room, During the Movie]]

Eegah tracks the main characters to a party, the police intervene and gun him down, everyone looks on sadly, credits roll. “Well,” Lyla mutters. She seems relieved that the movie is over at last, but doesn't say anything else. Applause breaks out among the viewers, thanking Lyla for her efforts to make such a stinker of a movie more watchable. When she steps out from the projection room, though, Lyla clams up again. Similar to her behavior outside, most of her interactions are carried out nonverbally. When folks do cajole a response out of her, it's often canned, a “have a good night” or a line from the movie or some such thing. The crowd breaks up into several groups, leaving you standing there with Lyla and one other person, a catgirl whose calico patterned ears are currently pointed to the sides in a displeased manner. “I know!” the catgirl balks. “Barf me out!” Lyla shrugs at this, but her face is one of sadness and regret. “I'm sorry,” she says, “I didn't know that part was in there.” Upon seeing you, though, Lyla's mood instantly improves. “Oh, $name!” Then she turns back to the catgirl and tells her, “Dorothy, this is $name. I only met $name recently, but we've been hitting it off. And $name,” she adds, as she turns to you, “this is Dorothy. She and I go back to high school, at least.” Dorothy flinches slightly at this, but says nothing. Instead, she turns to you and examines you. You end up examining her right back, and what you see seems to be Lyla's complete opposite. She's a cat cross instead of a dog cross, sure, but her clothes are also neat and well-fitting. Rather than a calliope of color, her outfit's colors are closely coordinated with the black and orange of her cat parts, or the gold of her hair. Her rigid posture and silent apprehension contrast with Lyla's easygoing vibes. Finally, Dorothy speaks. “So, like, Lyla is making new friends without my help? Like, that's totally awesome!” Despite the joy in her voice, her lips remain pulled into a haughty little pout. “Just like that movie...not!” Dorothy averts her gaze from the canvas, like she can't even look at it with the movie off, lest her mind project “Eegah” onto it. “There was, like, nothing good about that.” (link: "Agree with Dorothy.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (set: $dorothy_score to it + 2) (goto: "CTPL Projection Room") }] (link: "Disagree with Dorothy.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (set: $lyla_score to it + 1) (set: $rocket_score to it + 1) (goto: "CTPL Projection Room") }]

(link-reveal: "Watch the Movie With Lyla")[<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1eK6xvoMjSg?si=Gj-ca-JX7N2743nn" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen></iframe>] Indeed, true to Lyla's word, there's finally some dialogue. The lady stops at a gas station and speaks to the attendant, who turns out to be her boyfriend. They make plans, she drives off, and the attendant begins expositing to a customer while distracted by thoughts of her—so distracted, in fact, that he overfills the customer's gas tank. “Hey!” the customer shouts, as the camera cuts to him. Despite her earlier call for patience, the loudspeaker thumps to life again as Lyla prepares a joke from within the projection room. “That's not my gas tank!” she quips, as if to continue the customer's line. "You've got that in my pocket!" The gas pump isn't really in his pocket, of course, but the brief close-up on the customer cuts everything else out of the shot, leaving plenty of space to imagine such an outlandish scenario. That raises a laugh from the crowd, and so it begins. Lyla continues on like that for the rest of the movie. There are lots more long silences ahead, and a few musical interludes that seem to drag on forever. With her technical know-how and overall silliness, Lyla fills these gaps in the movie with new life. She lambastes one of the songs for having a full musical accompaniment with backup vocals and all, even though—by the movie's conceit—it's being performed by one man plucking an acoustic guitar. At first, she attempts to back off the jokes when dialogue starts, but it becomes increasingly clear that “Eegah” is not that complicated. When the female lead and her father are captured by the titular caveman. Eegah begins to lust after the girl and touch her. She wants to scream and run, but the father blithely advises her to pretend to like it, so as not to anger Eegah. During such scenes, Lyla's playful ribbing turns urgent, and there's a sharpness to her voice. But more than anything, Lyla is utterly obsessed with a scene early on. The characters wander off a road and into the desert to track Eegah, when a voice shouts, “Watch out for snakes!” It's supposed to be one of the characters in the scene, only his voice sounds different and it doesn't come from his direction. Lyla laughs like crazy when it happens, and she mentions it again when the camera lingers on a snake later on. Finally, almost mercifully, “Eegah” ends. [[Next|CTPL Projection Room, After the Movie]]

Lyla keeps the Cross Town Public Library well-stocked and well-organized. She's got everything from children's books to college-level textbooks, a wide variety of options across genres. It doesn't take long for you to find a book that appeals to you, but you still feel compelled to take a look around the rest, as long as you're here. In some places, binders sit on the shelves in place of a book. These are places where Lyla has typed and printed information herself, and slipped it into a series of protective sleeves. Some of these are Lyla's own work, biographies of her friends and family. She conducts interviews in the break room, types up her findings, and puts them with the rest of the post-apocalyptic nonfiction. Other binders contain transcripts of nearby books, especially the pre-apoc ones, which have been treated unkindly by untold centuries of neglect. A sign nearby informs you that these decrepit old books are not to be taken out of the library, for their protection, and that they're primarily there to be checked against Lyla's transcripts, which you are allowed to borrow. Once you've seen enough, you take what choice you've made for reading material and take it to the break room. On your way back through the shelves, though, you can't help but notice that the post-apoc fiction quadrant has the most bare spots. It's hard to tell if that's due to Lyla's preferences bleeding into her curatorship, or if there's just a lot of them checked out at the moment. You're aware that, generally speaking, the public of today prefers the books of today over the pre-apoc material. Seeing the difference on the shelves, though, makes it hard to believe that that broader trend is the only thing causing the discrepancy here. You can't dwell on it for too long, though. When you go to enter the break room, you find the door doesn't budge. Locked...the word cuts your thoughts and your plans apart. (link: "Knock.")[You knock on the door to the break room, but no one responds.] (link: "Barge in.")[You try to ram yourself against the door, but it doesn't work.] (link: "Go to the projection room.")[You guess you won't be getting in there. The only other place to rest your feet and wait for Lyla's help is the projection room, where the movie is being screened, and it's not like she'll be able to step away from that until it's done anyway. You shrug and enter the projection room. The movie has already started. You hear a few murmurs from the crowd, begging the movie to “do something”, and you've walked in on some scenes set at night without any dialogue or music. The cinematography isn't great, so it's hard to tell for sure, but you feel confident in assuming you haven't missed anything. “Hold on,” Lyla assures the crowd via an intercom system set up in the room. “Let's let them set up the plot a little first.” [[Next|CTPL Projection Room, During the Movie]]]

(if: $choice_temp is 1)[“Right?” Dorothy chirps as you voice your dissatisfaction with the film. She crosses her arms, a crude shelter against the memory of that scene with the shaving cream. “I don't know if that was supposed to be, like, funny or scary or tragic or whatever...but it was totally grody, for sure!” Dorothy scoots onto a nearby bench; Lyla joins her there, and you follow in behind Lyla. “Yeah!” Lyla grunts as her body hits the bench. “I don't know how I'm going to sort this one. But good or bad...these are the people who used to live here. It represents a fragment of things they used to do, the way they used to think—“ “What-ever!” Dorothy turns her nose up at this. “If that was their, like, attitude toward women, then I'm glad I'll never meet them, for sure!” Between you and Dorothy, the verdict is in: that movie stunk. Lyla seems to lose her nerve with the two of you in agreement, but she still holds to her convictions. “Um...exactly, that's the...” Her grip is shaky, but the hold is there. “...they made shitty movies too!” Lyla was likely stuck on how to word that, because her body relaxes immediately—or maybe it just felt good for her to swear. “It's important in my line of work to remember that people from other times and places are...y'know, people.”](else:)[“What?” Dorothy says. Lyla nods. “I think $name Is right,” she asserts. Dorothy pulls her ears back again. “Like, you totally would, it was your show! That was a total gagfest!” A particular scene seems to cross her mind, and she closes her eyes tightly as if that will somehow rid her of it. “Okay, yeah...” Lyla moves some chairs around so the three of you can sit together in a sort of circle. Her chair is turned backwards, and she straddles it with her arms atop the back rest. “...they put 40 minutes of plot into 90 minutes of movie, the editing is atrocious, those scenes with Roxy and her dad in the cave made me really uncomfortable—” Dorothy nods furiously at this part. “—we were all dreading the musical bits by the end...and for a movie named after Eegah, it's barely about him.” Dorothy laughs. “Wow, way to prove me wrong, not.” Then, she turns to you. “So, like, what'd you like, $name?” From the look on Dorothy's face, it doesn't look like anything would convince her “Eegah” was worth watching. Lyla, on the other hand, is smiling wide as you discuss your experience. It wasn't just a movie; with Lyla's help, it was also a genuinely educational foray into the past, and an improv comic routine. And even if you hadn't had those aspects to help you through, there's worse movies out there. Not many, but— “Thank you, $name,” Lyla says, “that's kind of you to speak up. I try to spice up the bad movies to keep people from leaving...because no matter what, every new perspective on the people who used to live here and what they were like is valuable. Even if the movie itself sucks...even the fact that they made sucky movies is a point of interest!”] “Which brings me to this,” Lyla says. She takes a deep breath. Much of her previous verve is gone. “Um...Dorothy...$name...will you come to Old Hollywood with me?” Her hands begin to tangle together in a fidgety fit. “I, uh, I know it's a big ask...but I think it'd be a lot of fun to go on a day trip with the two of you.” Dorothy seems to be pointedly holding herself to silence; the mention of Old Hollywood doesn't look like it sits well with her. When Lyla mentions how fun it would be, though, some of the hardness to Dorothy's expression and posture melt away. “Aw, like, for sure,” she says, “a day trip would be so totally awesome! It's just...those grody old ruins...” Lyla shakes her head. “They're not so bad. But...but you don't have to go in. We can bring a picnic and...” As she fights to think of ways to sell this trip to Dorothy, her eyes flit toward you in an unspoken cry for help. “...uh...” (link: "A picnic would be nice.")[{ (set: $dorothy_score to it + 1) (goto: "CTPL Exit") }] (link: "The drive would be lovely.")[{ (set: $rocket_score to it + 1) (goto: "CTPL Exit") }] (link: "Exploring the ruins sounds like fun.")[{ (set: $lyla_score to it + 1) (goto: "CTPL Exit") }]

Before you can vocalize your support, there's a loud thump and a scream from the main room. Lyla rockets to her feet. With one hand, she gently urges you to stay clear of her path; her other hand is balled into a fist. She charges out first, to see what's going on in her library. You head after her, and Dorothy follows after you. By the time you get out there, though, you see Lyla having already relaxed and slowed her advance. There's a tall young man standing by the entrance to the break room, now open. She walks toward him with all her worry apparently gone. “Iain,” she says, “what happened?” The man tries to answer, but a yawn rips through the beginning of his sentence. He lets the yawn continue to its natural conclusion, then tries again. “I goofed,” he admits. “I opened the door a lot harder than I meant to and scared someone.” Whoever it was must have already scampered off, because there's no one else around. “Is it over...?” “What, movie night? Yes.” Lyla turns back to you, and gestures one hand toward you and one toward Iain. “Iain, this is $name, a friend of mine. And $name, this is Iain.” The man offers a lazy wave in greeting as Lyla introduces him to you. “He works here.” Iain chuckles. “I don't do any work around movies, though. They usually put me to sleep.” “There's a lot that puts you to sleep.” Iain doesn't really fight this beyond a little “eh” sort of noise. Then again, the white hoodie and gray slacks he's wearing look like pretty comfortable sleep attire. “Speaking of,” he segues, “I got the main room and the break room clean. I was waiting for movie night to end before getting to the projection room and the restroom, but, well, I nodded off.” “Well, yeah,” Lyla says with a laugh. “Thanks for another job well done, Iain.” She steps around you to get a better look around the main room, then returns to peek into the break room. “Looks great here.” She barely looked around, but then, you haven't noticed anything out of order since you arrived. “Has everyone else left the building?” Iain nods. “Just us four here.” “Not for long...!” [[Next|CTPL Exit (2)]]

Lyla giggles and steps toward the exit. “Iain," she tells him, "if you want to check on the restroom and leave the projection room for tomorrow, that'd be fine. Can I trust you to find your own way home, $name? Dorothy and I are gonna catch up at my place for a bit, and Iain's gonna lock up behind us.” “I am?” Dorothy and Iain say in unison. Lyla shrugs. “Well, if you've got better ideas, then sure...but it's been awhile! Hollywood or no Hollywood, I wanna talk to you...!” With that, Lyla exits the building, and Dorothy heads after her. “Like, sure, I guess,” she mutters as she goes. After they round a corner to the left and disappear from sight, beyond the view of the front windows, Iain loudly clears his throat behind you. “Well,” he blurts, “you better get going, then. I got a restroom to clean.” (link: "Ask Iain about Lyla. Ask Iain about Dorothy. Ask Iain for help with checking out a book.")[You can barely finish your question to Iain before he laughs it off. “What do I look like, a librarian?” he asks. “Get outta here already.”] (link: "Bid Iain a good night and exit.")[Iain offers a smile and a short wave through the windows as you exit. Old Hollywood...whatever it was when it was still new, these days, it's nothing now. That's how most people would see it, but not Lyla. True to her word, it would be quite a drive to get there from Cross Town. Something about the place must have been really endearing to her, if she'd travel all that way to check it out. You've never ventured into the wilderness beyond Cross Town and River City. Local farms and factories supply everything you've ever needed. For Lyla, though, this is apparently not enough. If nothing else, you find that enthusiasm infectious. Even through Lyla's nervous energy, it's obvious that there's something that makes the long trip and the mutant hazards worth it to her. Whatever could have secured the young librarian's passion enough to lure her away from her own library, you can't help but wonder if there's something you can do to help. [[The next day...|Convoy Park]]]

You're in Convoy Park, a gorgeous little place near the outskirts of Cross Town. The bridge to River City looms behind all the trees and flowers set up here. Its red supports stand as a color guide for the trees as their leaves begin to change. The cold snap from movie night must have been unkind to the flora here, but if it had been, there was no sign of it here two days later. In fact, they appear quite lively in the high wind gusts the area is experiencing today. So, too, do Lyla's dog ears appear as she approaches you. She tries to hold them steady with her hands, but she seems to need her hands' help for balance too. Eventually, she decides to turn sideways a little, so that her right side points toward you. Then she powers through the wind to your side, with her right arm up to shield her and hold her ear. "Hi $name!" she shouts to you. It's such a spectacle that you almost don't notice the person behind her. They've got dark skin, long dark hair, and a dark beanie that all pop against the cloudless blue sky of the early morning, but at first, they don't seem interested in you or Lyla, despite her antics. Eventually, though, when she comes to a stop near you, so do they. "You mind if I call you $name too?" they ask. They don't wait for an answer before jutting a fist your way. "I'm Rocket." (link: "Fist-bump with Rocket. Introduce yourself properly.")[While you and Rocket greet each other, Lyla smiles at the two of you. "Dorothy couldn't come with to Old Hollywood, but Rocket can! They're a friend from high school too...my mom and their dad were on the PTA together." "Yeah," Rocket scoffs, "except your mom is still all up in it." While Rocket's attire isn't quite the kaleidoscope of Lyla's outfit, nor is it the neat and popular fashion you saw on Dorothy. Despite the chill of the wind gusts, they wear a khaki vest open over a heather gray T-shirt. There's a logo on the shirt, but the vest blocks most of it. They wear blue jeans too, but they end around their knees, where they seem to have been ripped. "My dad quit that gig after we graduated." Lyla nods. "But before even that, he used to travel outside of Cross Town for BMX freestyle competitions." "He went north, though...we're going south today, aren't we?" "Southeast." Rocket shrugs. "Either way, that's him...I'm me. And I haven't been out of Cross Town, except to go to River City." "Well, I'm glad you've decided to come change that with me," Lyla says. "And you too, $name...!" "Oh, you're coming too, $name? That's cool. What'd you bring?" (link: "You brought food.")[{ (set: $you_brought to 1) (goto: "Convoy Park (2)") }] (link: "You brought tools.")[{ (set: $you_brought to 2) (goto: "Convoy Park (2)") }] (link: "You brought nothing.")[{ (set: $you_brought to 3) (goto: "Convoy Park (2)") }]]

(if: $you_brought is 1)[Lyla had said she wanted this to be a day trip with a picnic. To that end, you've packed some of your favorite foods—or at least the ones that'll keep fresh sitting in the car for several hours. Rocket's eyes light up at the prospect, and Lyla seems pretty happy too. “Nice,” she tells you, “we can pool this with my snacks. That should be plenty for three of us!”](if: $you_brought is 2)[Lyla seems impressed as you pull a variety of simple tools from your pack—a hammer, a crowbar, a hardy roll of tape, and other things that seemed like they'd come in handy in an abandoned building. Lyla watches quietly as you show her everything, then manages to eke out a “wow...” once you're done. “That's some good thinking...except I already have a lot of this stuff...” Rocket's not upset, though. “Spares are good, right?” they ask. Lyla nods. “Yeah, spares are good.” Her frown fades gradually. “That's a good point. And I'm so attached to my own tools, I'd have trouble lending mine out.”](if: $you_brought is 3)[You shrug. You really didn't bring anything special to the trip—it's only supposed to last the day, after all. Rocket seems shocked, but Lyla is all smiles. “That's great!” she tells you. “You're unburdened, $name, unbothered...hands free for whatever's ahead of us. That way, you can keep your hands on your camera, Rocket!”] With Rocket's question answered, you ask it right back at them. They oblige and reach into a pocket on the chest of their vest. At first, only a long black strap comes out, but eventually it ends with a blocky white— “Camera,” Rocket answers. “Lyla always comes back from these things and shows us what they were. I want to see how they are now.” “I mean, people can go just...look,” Lyla rebuts. “Well, that's what I used to say. But the more I went asking around, the more I realized that most people don't do that.” (set: $storymark to it + 1) “Well...yeah.” Rocket puts a hand to their mouth, clearly on the verge of laughter. “Most people aren't curious enough to risk running into a corpse mutt. If they want to know what's out there, they'll just ask you. You're already the most knowledgeable person there is about the old ruins.” With a shrug, Rocket adds, “That I've ever seen, anyway.” For a moment, Lyla seems charmed by Rocket's words. This silence is not her usual nonverbal behavior, but something with more awe—at least, until Rocket's little addition. Then she giggles it off. “Well, then you two can climb the ranks quickly,” she assures you and Rocket. “Especially since we're all so well-prepared.” Lyla moves back the way she came, and bids you both to follow with a sweep of her hand. “C'mon, we can talk more in the car. Rocket, you ride in front on the way there, and $name, you can ride in front on the way back.” While Lyla's glee churns quietly, Rocket whoops with excitement. A few birds are startled off the ground and flee toward the bell tower, but they carry on like that nonetheless. If nothing else, you find that enthusiasm infectious. One minute, Rocket is ruminating on the dangers of the wild, and in the next, they're carrying on with so much enthusiasm that Lyla is trying to get them to take it down a notch. “Hey,” she tells them, “some folks are still asleep.” “Oh, now you notice how most people do things?” Rocket retorts. The two of them laugh together, about as loud as Rocket was hollering before. You're compelled to laugh with them, to face whatever faces the three of you with smiles as confident as the ones they wear. And just like they are, you're eager to get things rolling. [[Next|Convoy Park (3)]]

You follow Lyla and Rocket out of the park, and you see them climbing into a car situated along the park's outskirts. It's a blocky thing made mostly of sharp angles, grayish white with a black stripe across the doors. It sticks out among the more typical car designs of the area, and their more rounded and aerodynamic profiles. Rocket is already buckled in to the front seat and waving for you to hurry. “C'mon!” they holler to you. “We gotta get there and back before nightfall!” You don't think the schedule is quite that tight; after all, Rocket and Lyla were there to meet you about as soon as the sun was. Still, you're eager enough to start your journey as to hasten yourself in reply. Rocket is watching you go eagerly, while Lyla is double-checking her map. As you scoot in the car from the passenger's side, she turns away from the map and greets you with a little, “Hey.” With a visual aid on hand, you figure this is the best time to ask Lyla about the itinerary. She nods at your question, and Rocket's curiosity is also piqued; they lean over as Lyla holds the map for everyone to see. “Well,” she begins, “I was thinking we'd follow the coast to Old Hollywood.” Her finger traces a loop along the modern map, a loop which only occasionally coincides with the modern roads it depicts. “It's longer, but it should be quite a sight. Then on the way back...we can use the 99.” Her finger traces back upward toward Cross Town, and this time, she at least manages to overlap roads in modern use, once near Cross Town and once near Old Hollywood. Only here at the beginning and end of the loop is there an inhabited settlement—Cross Town itself. Going by this map alone, there's nothing else of note in the entire area Lyla lassoed with her plan. A coastal drive sounds nice, but venturing so far away from civilization seems risky. You ask Lyla why she picked such a faraway place. “Lots of reasons. For one, Hollywood was once one of the most prolific centers of filmmaking in the world.” Lyla starts to count on her fingers, but she quickly pauses to reach into the center console for a pair of brown fingerless gloves. “For two, there's this really cute building up on the hills nearby where we can have lunch! I think it used to be some kind of space center...or maybe it was a set too?” Lyla shrugs. “I've seen it in a couple movies.” Well, Lyla's the expert. If she's been to Old Hollywood before, and her car is so stocked with supplies, and there's three of you to be there for each other, then there's not much left for you to think about except buckling up. [[Next|Convoy Park (4)]]

{ (live: 1s)[ (if: $timer is 0)[ (stop:) (goto: "Cross Town Outskirts") ] (else: )[ (set: $timer to it - 1) ] ] } # Lyla & $name # & Rocket

A mix of excitement and worry fills your body as you watch Cross Town slip away from the car windows. Trees of pine and palm mingle along the sides of the roads, while grasses and bushes thrive around them. While some are neatly arranged and marked for cultivation of their myriad products, even that iota of human influence fades away before long. The morning sun plays along the trees' canopy and slips onto the road below, as you follow that road into the unknown with Lyla and Rocket. Well, not so unknown to Lyla. “I hope that cold snap didn't fuck up these trees,” she muses as she glances toward the trees. This is the first time Lyla's allowed herself to turn her head away from the road since she's started driving. Within the second, though, she's right back to her usual diligence. What exactly she's so wary of, you're not sure. Back within Cross Town, she drove with exceptional courtesy to both her passengers and what few cars shared the road with her at this hour. But now, she's still driving like that, only there's no other traffic out here whatsoever—no, wait, there's a single truck in the opposite lanes. It bears a wide photograph of produce on the outside, a pile of avocados and tomatoes and pumpkins and—now it's passed by. And yet Lyla drives more carefully out here than some of the drivers did back in town. Rocket has taken the opportunity to roll down their window. “Wow,” they gasp as they lean their head out the window, then a shoulder. Then they retreat back into the car, but only so they can grab their camera. The sun pools in the curls of their hair just as readily as anywhere else along the road, and they get a couple photos in as the open road welcomes them. Eventually, though, Rocket ducks back into the car, seemingly satisfied with their experience. Lyla seems relaxed too; she still follows her driving safety habits, but there's no tension to her posture and no frown to her lips. “I know,” she agrees. “Some of these trees are just one or two generations away from the apocalypse.” “Huh...I wouldn't have guessed. Are you sure their grand...parent...trees would've survived...?” When you look to Rocket, they shrug back at you. “Obviously, you can't interview a tree. But if you could, would you really find one whose parent remembers the Venomous Age, or even before...?” If that's the scale these trees live on, that puts their lifespan somewhere in the upper hundreds. That would be impressive, especially considering they'd have had to weather Agent Venom that whole time. When you bring that up, Rocket nods and wags a finger your way. “And Venom was made specifically to kill the environment,” they add. Lyla shrugs. “Hey, we survived it.” After a short pause, she adds, “Well, maybe not us. But...you know.” (link: "Tell Lyla that, yes, actually, you are survivors of Agent Venom.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (set: $rocket_score to it + 1) (goto: "Cross Town Outskirts (2)") }] (link: "Tell Lyla that she would've survived in the Venomous Age.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (set: $lyla_score to it + 1) (goto: "Cross Town Outskirts (2)") }] (link: "Tell Lyla that, yeah, you get what she's saying.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 3) (set: $dorothy_score to it + 1) (goto: "Cross Town Outskirts (2)") }]

(if: $choice_temp is 1)[Agent Venom isn't over. Just because there's an Antidote and a Cross Town doesn't mean it's safe out here. Lyla is especially a survivor, since this isn't her first time out. But everyone endures Venom's effects, to some degree—even the folks who never leave the safe zones provided by the Antidote. After all, that sort of life leaves so much of the world closed to them. “I'm not sure that counts,” Rocket cuts in shortly after your last sentence. “That's not the same as getting mutated, or getting attacked by animals.” Lyla shrugs. “So what?” she asks. “I think $name raises a good point. Venom still runs the world, and it's a hardship we all bear in our own ways. But...I see your point too, Rocket. I say 'hardship', but it doesn't feel hard with you and $name here.” Lyla's on your wavelength, alright, but Rocket seems less enthused by her reply. They turn back to the window and speak their reply against the window as they watch the trees dwindle away from view. “...thanks.” Perhaps it's embarrassment that quiets them. No matter what it is that quiets them, the conversation thins out just as much as the tree cover has. The premises of Cross Town has been treated by the Antidote, to safeguard it from the dangers of Agent Venom. There's not enough Antidote to cover the whole world, though—and Lyla's car has carried you, her, and Rocket over that line, where the Antidote ends and Venom's domain begins. Maybe that's what's got the others so quiet. It's not like the boundary is clearly marked or anything. You're not sure exactly where it was, but it's clear from looking ahead that there's been a change in the plants. Through the windshield, you can see the bushes that were growing so vibrantly behind you are struggling here. They form thicker branches and fewer leaves, and they dot the landscape sparsely. You don't see any of those infamous animals prowling about, but then, something small could be hiding in the bushes. The others are plenty vigilant, though. Lyla's driving remains as careful as ever, and Rocket has been watching the scenery go by quite intently. Still, that seems like a surfeit of diligence. Perhaps you can engage Lyla in conversation while she drives; she's done just fine doing both so far. Perhaps Rocket is ready and willing to open up; they're so transfixed on the window that it's hard to read them.](else-if: $choice_temp is 2)[Maybe Lyla is right. Maybe she wasn't there for the brunt of Agent Venom's wrath, a wrath which nearly ended all life on the planet. But if she had been, she'd have survived. “Thanks, $name,” Lyla says quietly at your compliment, “but I dunno...” But she would have, you're sure of it. She's careful and knowledgeable, helpful and joyful...there's no doubt in your mind that she'd put forward some good work and be well-liked by the peoples of the wastes. Lyla shrugs and shakes her head. Her hair and her beagle ears flop down to provide a natural curtain, perhaps to hide the beginnings of a blush you were able to spot before they fell. “But I'm no good at fighting...and things often came down to fighting in the Venomous Age.” Rocket lets out a loud “bah” and waves off Lyla's concern. “You could've been the brains of some caravan outfit,” they suggest. “You drive, I shoot...!” To prove their point, Rocket makes finger-guns out the window and lets the wind tousle their hair as they make some pretty unconvincing gun noises with their mouth. They're looking and pointing at some black bird, one that isn't even looking back. Given that this is all pantomime, it's hard to tell how good a job Rocket would have done, especially compared to Lyla exercising wasteland survival skills as you speak. You still suggest they'd make a fine team. Rocket seems to glow at your suggestion. They can't even express their happiness to you before they turn back to Lyla and ask, “Ooh, I wonder what our callsigns would be!” “Stray Dog,” Lyla answers immediately. You ask her if she's given this some thought before. Lyla doesn't answer, though. She seems a little on edge, now that she's driven the three of you to the edge. There's a line in the trees where, quite suddenly, the once-leafy palms and pines now wave to you with barren branches. Then, not long after that, the trees are gone. The bushes that do live out here depend on thick branches and a few broad leaves. Agent Venom's influence begins here. This is as close to surviving in the Venomous Age as you're going to get. Despite the heaviness of such an occasion, the others are...well, they're certainly paying rapt attention, but they don't seem fearful. Rocket is taking a picture of the landscape—one that will represent quite a long swath of the journey, if the uninterrupted barrenness ahead is any indication—and Lyla is driving just as diligently as always. If anything, she seems more relaxed out here, where the lack of settlements along the coast nearly guarantees an open road ahead. Your inspiration is a bit more laggard than theirs, it seems, but perhaps you can engage the others in conversation and find attunement with their awestruck vibes that way.](else:)[Lyla's got a point. As impressive as it is that these trees can trace their ancestry back to the pre-apocalypse, so can everything else. Such old trees simply have fewer generations to go back through. “Hey, yeah,” Rocket realizes. “It's not like space aliens swooped in and re-seeded the Earth after Agent Venom, right?” Rocket and Lyla then share a long laughing session. You're not really sure what exactly is so funny about that, until Lyla says, “Oh, like in Ecliptic Reflections?” Then she gasps and goes quiet for a moment, and you can tell she's carefully considering her next words. “Sorry, $name...I hope I didn't spoil that movie for you. Rocket saw it when it came out in the theater, and then I bought the film reel to keep it in the library when the theater run was over. I guess I sorta...didn't stop to wonder if you'd seen it or not.” Lyla seems to feel the need to explain and explain and keep explaining. Perhaps it's because you've been mostly letting her talk while looking at the trees outside, and you've noticed a drastic change. The easily recognizable palms and pines have given way to some knobby trees, sparse on the verdancy. Even the bushes that used to safeguard the lower extremities of their trunks are different up ahead. They, too, depend on fewer leaves and thick branches. So rather than let Lyla continue, you let her know it's okay. You're not concerned with that movie, but with the trees. “Oh, right!” Lyla says. “This is where Cross Town's supply of Antidote ends, and Agent Venom's turf begins.” “Ooh...!” Rocket coos. They go for their camera, and take a few pictures of the barren landscape that awaits the three of you. “Good job noticing that, $name.” Lyla doesn't turn away from the road to smile at you, of course, but she does flash a quick grin toward the rear-view for you to catch glimpse of. “That's the sort of attention to detail you need out here...and you're so even-keel about the ages of the trees. Most people I tell about that, they're like, 'Holy shit!'” “Yeah,” Rocket agrees, “I feel like I've got two professionals watching my back out here!” Despite all you've heard about the dangers of the outside world, you too feel much more at ease with friends by your side. Rocket's right about Lyla being a professional, too; she's got this whole trip planned out, and such a surfeit of supplies that you've got to share the backseat space with a couple bags. Even the way she's painted this trip into the Venom lands as a “day trip” and a “picnic” have helped bolster your confidence. With the others so relaxed, and your own good mood enhanced by their presence, and the two of them suddenly so quiet, it seems like a great time to chat with one of them.] [[Next|On the Road]]

You're (if: $storymark is not 2)[still ]in the car with Lyla and Rocket, and you're thinking of striking up some conversation. (if: $storymark > 5)[ Lyla's driving pretty intently to get home before nightfall, but then, Lyla's always driving pretty intently.] (link: "Talk to Lyla.")[“Hi $name!” Lyla chirps as you get her attention. “What's up?” (link: "Ask Lyla about herself.")[(if: $lyla_quest1 is true)[You ask Lyla to tell you about herself, but she shrugs. "Well, I like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain...and I still don't like questions like this." She giggles at her own jesting, but there's some truth to it too, insofar as this icebreaker won't work twice. You'll have to try something else.](else:)[{ (if: $storymark < 5)[(set: $lyla_score to it + 1)] (goto: "LylaQuest 1-1") }]] (link: "Ask Lyla about her parents.")[(if: $lyla_quest2 is true)[You ask Lyla more about Alyce and Grizz, but she shrugs. "Look, if you wanna know more, you'll just have to read my book." After a moment, Lyla adds, "And if you've already read it, then...fuck, dude, I dunno. You're probably best off waiting for us to get back to Cross Town with a question like that."](else:)[{ (if: $storymark < 5)[(set: $lyla_score to it + 1)] (goto: "LylaQuest 2-1") }]] ] (link: "Talk to Rocket.")[“...huh?” Rocket mumbles as they lean around the passenger seat to see you. “Something you wanted, $name?” (link: "Ask Rocket about themself.")[(if: $rocket_quest1 is true)[You ask Rocket if there's anything more they'd like to share about themself. "Uh, (if: $rocket_quest2 is true)[I'm 0-4 against Nicole, I like creamy peanut butter more than chunky, and I can talk to animals](else:)[I like raspberries, I'm studying practical effects in filmmaking, and I've met a zombie sailor]." Rocket rolls their eyes and adds, "Okay, I made that last one up." It's clear from their reaction that you won't be getting any more out of them this way.](else:)[{ (if: $storymark < 5)[(set: $rocket_score to it + 1)] (goto: "RocketQuest 1-1") }]] (link: "Ask Rocket about their parents.")[(if: $rocket_quest2 is true)[You ask Rocket more about Frank Grimsley, but they've got no further patience for such questions. "Sorry," they sigh as they slump back into their seat, "I've had enough of these sorts of questions for one day. Lyla's the biographer here, maybe you should turn this attention on her...like the hunter becoming the hunted.](else:)[{ (if: $storymark < 5)[(set: $rocket_score to it + 1)] (goto: "RocketQuest 2-1") }]] ]

“You want to learn?” Lyla says. “About me?” She thinks about this for a bit, then shrugs and smiles. “Sure! But can you narrow it down? I'm not good at handling such an open-ended question.” Lyla goes quiet and a little tense, but she doesn't come out of it with anything to say. At first, you assume it's just related to the change in scenery. The roads change from an art to a science, a common sign of pre-apocalyptic ruins. While some old-world roads followed the gentle curves of nature, the ones that once innervated the old cities tend to be more utilitarian and form grids. In their time, the buildings here must have been grandiose. Now, though, the only opulence is in the vines and ivies that use them as canvases. Too bad there's no time to appraise the art; you simply have a few seconds to register these places as somewhere between “mostly intact” and “pile of rubble” before Lyla leaves them behind. Someone seems to be keeping the road itself clear of detritus, aside from one house that's collapsed, along with an old wooden deck and some support beams. Perhaps this bit of ruination is the most recent. The (if: $storymark < 5)[morning](else:)[late afternoon] sun casts plenty of wide shadows; its angle makes it difficult to see into the bushes and debris and other such places a critter might hide. Lyla's attention doesn't seem to be on these nooks and crannies, though. Sure, she's driving safely around the collapsed house, but she's not checking her mirrors and out her windows like she was before. Maybe she really was trying to indulge your conversation topic. When you get her attention again, she gasps. “Sorry, $name,” she sighs. “I think it's my autism...you ask me a question that open, and I get hung up on figuring out which of the million possible answers is the very best one, and—” Lyla ends her sentence by making a fart sound with her mouth. “But sometimes autism is cool. It helps to see the world so differently...it's sorta like that movie where the guy puts on the glasses and he sees these hidden messages...damn, what was it...?” [[Next|LylaQuest 1-2]]

The question barely escapes your lips before Lyla and Rocket share a chuckle. “You a tabloid writer, $name?” Lyla asks. You're confused. This reaction was not the one you anticipated from such a simple question. You're not even sure whether to prod further. But as you ponder, Rocket reaches to grab something stuck in a pouch on the back side of the driver's seat. When their hand comes out, they're clutching a book. It's not hard to guess it has to do with Lyla's mom and dad, because it's titled “The Fox and the Thief”—apt enough descriptors for the two of them—and it lists Lyla as the author. Lyla's having none of it, though. She spies the book in the rear-view mirror and immediately says, “No! You're gonna get carsick if you start reading in here, aren't you?” “Oh, good call.” Rocket doesn't put the book back in the pouch, though; they keep it in their lap. As they go quiet, you remind Lyla that you're not here to dig up dirt. You're just trying to start conversation. The way she said it, you're not sure if she was serious. “You're right, I'm sorry,” Lyla acquiesces immediately. “It's just...Mom and Dad are so well-known around town. Most people who ask me or my friends a question like that have turned out to be muckrakers.” So she was serious after all. “I couldn't tell if you were joking,” Rocket adds, “but if you weren't, I was gonna have you read Lyla's book.” You caught glimpses of the book before, but now they hold The Fox and the Thief specifically where you can see it. Your eyes slide around the silhouette of the fox on the simplistic cover, and the knife to its side. “I don't know what to say that Lyla hasn't said here.” [[Next|LylaQuest 2-2]]

“Me?” Rocket gasps. Their eyes flit over to Lyla briefly, then back to you. “Uh...I'm me. What kind of question is that, $name?” The question is worded defensively, but by Rocket's tone, and the scrunch of their facial expression, they seem more confused than upset. Either way, you try to reassure them that you want to get to know them. This doesn't help them any. “You assume I know myself,” Rocket says through a laugh. “I mean, I can tell you I'm Frank Grimsley's kid, or that I like poems and horror movies, or any number of random facts.” Rocket grips the passenger seat tightly so they can better lean toward you as they ask, “But does that tell you about me?” (link: "Yes.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (set: $lyla_score to it + 1) (goto: "RocketQuest 1-2") }] (link: "No.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (set: $dorothy_score to it + 1) (goto: "RocketQuest 1-2") }]

Rocket's face wrinkles at the sound of your question. “What about?” they shoot back at you as they peer around the passenger seat to face you. “I'm not trying to be dodgy, I just don't know how much you already know about Frank Grimsley.” “That's right,” Lyla quips. She doesn't turn to face you; she's got her eyes on the road. “He's famous.” You remember the two of them saying as much. Grimsley's some sort of professional BMX rider. “Yeah,” Rocket confirms. “That's him. What else is there?” As you think of an answer, Lyla's car hits a harsh bump and sends a terrible shock through everyone. Rocket gets the worst of it, since they're unbuckled to peer around the seat and all. Their head approaches the ceiling, and their yelp of surprise is so loud that you're not sure if you hear them hit their head or not. Regardless of what happened, they don't seem to mind; in fact, they start to laugh. This reassures you enough to leave Rocket be for a second so you can check up on Lyla. “I'm okay,” Lyla says. “What about you, $name?” You're fine too. With that out of the way, you're free to ask your next question—what gives? Lyla's driving is usually so smooth and careful. “Sorry...” Lyla gives her head a small shake, and her dog ears flop around her eyes. “...I don't know how, but I didn't notice that bump. Maybe I need a break.” Rocket shrugs. “Hey, the car's fine, we're fine...no sweat! It was actually kinda fun!” [[Next|RocketQuest 2-2]]

Hollywood. Once, this place was known far and wide as a center of culture and opportunity. Now, it's nothing. At least, that's how most see it these days, including Lyla's contemporary road maps. The closest mark they care to make is Tijuana Nueva to the southeast of here. This, on the other hand, is simply a gray splotch, no more detailed on the maps than the ocean blue. Out your window, you see something that could've been a bustling metropolis once. Could such a place really have been such a cultural phenomenon? Because all you can see it culturing now are great blooms of some kind of moss along the rooftops. When you ask Lyla that, she laughs a little. “Oh, not quite!” she informs you. “Technically, we're not at Old Hollywood yet...but we're close! This is more like Old Santa Monica.” She points your attention to your right for a moment, out into the ocean. “There used to be a huge amusement park over there someplace.” “There?” Rocket gasps. “With rides and all? Hanging out over the water?” For every question Rocket asks, Lyla immediately answers with a nod and an “mm-hm!”. Then she takes a fork in the road that leads left, onto a parallel road running up and away from the ocean. You didn't even see that turn, what with all the bushes growing wild over the road. There's enough of an old-world road barrier left to hold them away, and all Lyla does is bump their outermost branches and startle a few small birds hidden within. “That's what drives me crazy about this place. Can you imagine...?” It doesn't seem that wild to you. Sure, in this era, most large bodies of water still retain enough Agent Venom that if you fell in and sucked in a mouthful of water, you'd probably die within the month. But if it weren't for that, you're sure someone would've built another amusement park on a giant pier. Lyla stops you there with another laugh. “No, not just that,” she clarifies. “This big-ass city...full of people who could just go play pretend all day, then come over here at night and go to a carnival on the ocean...” “Okay, sure,” Rocket acquiesces, “when you put it that way, it does sound cool.” They recline their seat a little and close their eyes, likely to try again at imagining things the way Lyla is. “They were able to sprawl out, weren't they?” (link: "Envision the sprawl of the city and agree.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (set: $rocket_score to it + 1) (goto: "Old Santa Monica (2)") }] (link: "Envision the sprawl of the pre-apocs' deeds and agree.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (set: $lyla_score to it + 1) (goto: "Old Santa Monica (2)") }] (link: "Envision the sprawl of a sleepy cat and agree.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 3) (set: $dorothy_score to it + 1) (goto: "Old Santa Monica (2)") }]

Lyla seems to be asking herself about the movie more than you. Whatever it's called, having to keep her eyes on the road seems like more of a boon than an obstacle to the conversation. Normally folks expect some level of eye contact when they talk, but she's got an out this time—you tell Lyla as much, and she gets a laugh out of it. “Thanks for accommodating me,” she says as she snickers over the steering wheel. “The wilderness is nice like that too, you know. Not a lot of eye contact you gotta make out here, either.” “Wait,” Rocket cuts in with a chuckle. “You come out here and enjoy the relief from social situations...and you were still all amazed earlier that so few people come out here?” Lyla shrugs. Even so, she keeps her hands at 10 and 2 on the wheel the whole time. “I dunno! I just thought...I...” She breathes deep, and then she laughs again. “...I'm amazed at how many people have never left Cross Town except to go to River City. Sometimes I'll park outta town for awhile just because I feel like shit and every sense hurts to use and it's the only place I can find peace and quiet. Most people haven't even dipped a toe in the wasteland...but I can't imagine that, I literally can't. Oh, this is something about me for you, ain't it?” Lyla seems to find it funny to have stumbled across a conversation topic like this. While she has her laughs, Rocket turns to you and asks, “What about you, $name? You got the wanderlust too?” (link: "Yes.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (set: $rocket_score to it + 1) (goto: "LylaQuest 1-3") }] (link: "No.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (set: $dorothy_score to it + 1) (goto: "LylaQuest 1-3") }]

(if: $choice_temp is 1)[You tell Rocket you like travel too, and they smile at you. “Yeah? Well, me too.” “Yep!” Lyla chirps. “You're like Rocket in that way...I've got some specific things to look for, but they're just browsing. I mean, they have a goal, but theirs is broad. Mine usually is too, but—”](else:)[You can see the romanticism Lyla sees in travel, but you don't quite share her enthusiasm for going out and doing it. When you tell her as much, she shrugs it off. “Dorothy's like that too,” she says. “With all the farms and factories in the area, you can life your whole life in the city. Which is the point, but—”] Before Lyla can explain further, she slams her foot down on the gas pedal. Everyone in the car does a little lurch as she rapidly speeds up. You try to see what's got her so worked up, but you can't. By the time you look out the driver's side, you can only catch a smudge of gray-white poking out of the shrubs nearby. So instead, you ask her what the problem is. “Rock hares,” is all she says for a little while. You're not entirely sure what she means by that, but your best guess is that the floppy-eared creature bounding into the road behind you is the rock hare in question. It's one thing to avoid needless confrontation, but it's quite another to be so hasty around one measly— Your train of thought goes no further before Lyla slams her hand down on the center of her steering wheel to blare the car horn. The noise seems to bother her immensely. Her relaxation has turned into stress; she hunkers into a sort of ongoing shrug, as if withdrawing her body around herself will block such a racket. Ahead, you finally spot that it's not just one measly creature she's taking such measures against. Several more rock hares are clogging the road ahead. Out in the open, you can see they're tight bundles of muscle. Many of them are the size of Lyla's tires, or bigger. Fortunately, they don't seem intent on clogging the road for long, not with the car horn screaming into their big ears. They scatter away from Lyla's car and into the bushes on either side of the road. Lyla sighs in relief and keeps speeding down the road. Soon, the rock hares are behind you. “Good,” she chirps. “I was worried someone would get hurt.” “Wow,” Rocket scoffs, “your heart really does go out to these creatures quick.” “Oh, no. Fuck those guys.” [[Next|LylaQuest 1-4]]

At first, Rocket can only gape in shock at Lyla's blunt reply, and then they break out laughing. Lyla cracks a smile, but slowly. “I'm serious!” she insists. “Those things can chew through metal! And they've got a nasty pounce! And there were at least a dozen of them out there!” “No, no!” Rocket is still laughing. “They're dangerous, I believe you! Just the way you said it...” Rocket puts on their best Lyla impersonation, even putting their hands to their head to emulate her dog ears pulling back in anger. “No. Fuck—” They can't get through the whole impersonation before their giggle fit overtakes them entirely. “Fuck!” they blurt in their own voice. By this point, both you and Lyla have joined in on the laughter. She's doing her best to keep an eye on the road as she goes, but she has to slow the car down quite a bit. “If I laugh any harder,” she squeals, “I'm gonna have to pull over!” As much fun as everyone is having, that seems kind of dangerous. After all, those rock hares Lyla so maligned aren't that far behind. While everyone gets their giggles out, and Rocket leans out the window to snap a picture of one of the houses as you go by, you try to think back to their original point. Even if Lyla hadn't had such love for the rock hares, nor had she gone out of her way to antagonize them. In fact, it had taken her awhile to get to a point where she used the car horn, which to you seems like an obvious weakness to such a large-eared creature. When you explain this to Lyla, though, she flips her hair at you—or, more accurately, she flips her ear at you. “Yeah, no shit, actually!” she says cheerily. “Dorothy and I had a similar conversation once...one of the first times we really spent time together. Maybe I shouldn't say too much without her here, since it's her story as much as mine.” Soon, however, she shrugs. “But one thing I ended up saying that day was that...uh, if I did something I knew would annoy her or even hurt her, she had every right to do the same to me. And rather than go back and forth like that, I'd rather be friends, see?” With the last word of her sentence, she flashes a toothy grin. [[Next|LylaQuest 1-5]]

“Oh, we've seen,” Rocket pipes up. “I know you're just going 'see?' because your dad says that, but trust me, we've seen the favors you do your friends, and all of Cross Town.” Indeed, her last movie night had been a lot busier than you had expected out of a late-night matinee of a movie that turned out to be so awful. She'd kept all those folks out of the cold for that little time and fed them snacks. And that was just something she did at the library for fun—let alone her more earnest efforts to do good. “Okay, you guys are gonna make me blush,” Lyla protests. Still, she manages to squeak out a “thank you” before hiding behind her ears and shoulders for a little while. She uncurls to focus on driving around another blockade in the road, and you can see she truly has started blushing. “Okay, fine.” Rocket puts a hand on Lyla's seat, rather than directly on her shoulder. “But that sort of cooperation and friendship is what it took for humanity to advance beyond...this,” they say, sweeping a hand toward the window. Just as they do, Lyla eases the car past a house that's clearly been caught in some kind of shootout. “That's what you keep telling me, isn't it?” Something tells you this isn't damage from the pre-apocalyptic era; this is consistent with the sort of gunfight that was common in the days afterward, the days known to most as the Venomous Age. Life then was dangerous and desperate, and travelers were equally threatened by wildlife and bandits. That's one other thing you've got to hand to Lyla. Compared to being accosted by a human mugger, being swarmed by rock hares is...just what they do, it seems. She was swearing about them earlier, but there was no hate or anger in it—which was amusing in the moment, but looking back on it even a little really speaks to Lyla's respect for the wild wastes. When you explain this, Rocket laughs. “Yeah, Lyla, you've gone on so many trips out here, you must be very acquainted with this mood I get from all this.” [[Next|LylaQuest 1-6]]

Lyla fidgets in her seat. It seems like she wants to turn to Rocket, but she can't take her eyes off the road. Instead, her tail goes wild beneath her. “And what mood is that?” she asks, her voice uneven with excitement. “It's...” Rocket leans back in their seat and glances sideways out the window nearest them. “...it's a lot of things I feel out here. But one of them is this...normalcy to it.” Rocket shrugs. “I dunno, I just thought it'd be crazier out here, more hectic. But the plants and the animals have their own habitats and ecosystems now, at least in this part of the world.” (if: $storymark is > 5)[Then they glance out the rear window, back toward the studio, and add, “It feels like a trap after Old Hollywood...you wander off the road, and the jaws of Agent Venom suddenly slam shut. Wild stuff, isn't it?”] (set: $lyla_quest1 to true) “Yeah,” Lyla agrees. She sits and smiles for awhile as she drives onward. She seems eager to get through the stretch ahead, where the “I mean, yeah, they live here now. They've made nests, settled in for several generations...then I come in, pick the locks to their houses, and steal all their movies. But I try not to disturb them.” Rocket laughs a little as Lyla squirms. “It's okay,” they reassure her, leaning against her seat to say so. “I know your policy—if someone were to want this stuff back, you'd give it back...even if they were a rock hare. Besides, they probably can't even work a projector.” (set: $storymark to it + 1) Lyla chuckles softly as she considers Rocket's words. “That's true. If they could just sit and be patient, they'd be welcome at movie night!” She laughs even more, at the thought of her projection room packed with giant hares. “They probably wouldn't like Eegah either!” “Probably not!” [[Next|LylaQuest 1-7]]

As Rocket winces away from Lyla's mention of Eegah, they catch your eye. “Oh, Lyla told me you were at the public screening! She showed it to me first to see what audiences it would be suitable for...and also to ask if it counted as horror.” “You were certainly horrified, weren't you, $name?” Lyla asks. “Most of us were!” “Yeah!” Rocket says, giving Lyla's seat a gentle tap as they stop leaning by her. Their voice is spiking with spirit and volume. “I told you I wasn't coming for a reason!” Everyone laughs it off for a little bit. Then, once things die down a bit, Rocket asks, “How did Dorothy handle it?” Lyla cringes at the mention of Dorothy. “She really didn't like the cave scenes. Just like you said. But she made it through the whole movie.” You wonder what Lyla and Rocket are talking about, but you doubt you'll get an answer. Lyla was barely willing to divulge her own half of a conversation earlier. This sounds like something even more firmly in “her story” territory. Unfortunately, whatever has them so hushed has taken the whole talk with it. You contend yourself with watching out the window, as the car finally clears the rock hares' territory. You turn your body to give one last look at the homes on the hills. Whoever used to live in these places...well, the rock hares live here now, and since it beats having them live in Cross Town, they can keep living here. In that way, you and Lyla are sort of on the same level. (if: $storymark is 4)[[[Next|Old Santa Monica]]](else-if: $storymark is >= 10)[[[Next|Returning to Cross Town]]](else:)[[[Next|On the Road]]]

Finally, at the end of your all-day trip, you see the pines and palms of the Cross Town outskirts rising to greet you. You've successfully done it...you, Lyla, and Rocket have ventured out into the wastelands and come back alive. What's more, you found the information Lyla needed for her future trip, the old-world address that will guide her to a veritable time capsule of a bygone culture. Rocket's taken back three rolls' worth of pictures with them, too. Certainly, the photo set will bring them great inspiration in their own creative work—and perhaps they could find other ways to monetize them, too. For now, though, the others have more immediate plans. “We should go celebrate!” Rocket suggests. “I've been having such a blast with you two, I just don't wanna go...!” “Yeah,” Lyla agrees, “you and $name have been great! Maybe we can meet up with Dorothy somewhere and tell her about the trip!” You certainly wouldn't mind that. As terrifying as that last creature was, dealing with such threats along the return trip has reignited your appetite. And being able to do one last fun thing with the others before your day has to end appeals to you too. “Then it's settled,” Lyla announces. “I have an idea...” The idea that Lyla shares with you as she pulls into Cross Town is relatively simple. Everyone will split up so they can put away their adventuring gear, change into cleaner clothes, and get the food of their choice. Then, everyone is to meet back up at the library, where Lyla will host a little dinner for everyone in her library, in the room where she does interviews for her biographies. “It's no hilltop picnic,” she concludes, “but I don't want Dorothy feeling like she missed all the fun.” [[Next|Returning to Cross Town (2)]]

But even that doesn't explain why Lyla carries a copy of that book. If she wrote it and it's about her parents, shouldn't she know what it says? When you ask her as such, Lyla lets out a low hum and flicks at the two air fresheners hanging from her rear-view mirror—vanilla and honey. “Sometimes,” she explains slowly, “when I'm scared or lonely or homesick or whatever...sometimes it's easier to just think of home, but sometimes it's easier to read the words.” “And sometimes you whack people with it when all they know about your mom and dad comes from The Heart Burglar,” Rocket adds. “I do not!” Rocket laughs and gently slaps Lyla's seat, behind her right shoulder. “Not literally...!” You can barely ask what they're talking about before you feel Lyla easing the car onto the side of the road and slowing to a stop. “Hold on,” she asks of you and Rocket. She takes a few deep breaths, and then she explains. “I fuckin' hate The Heart Burglar.” “Well,” Rocket says, “that's old news to me, and I gotta piss.” They grab a small bag of toiletries from the glove box, and make their way out of the car. “You tell $name all about it, and I'll be back in a few.” Lyla has pulled over near some sort of fenced-off facility. Whatever it was to the people of the old world, it's now choked with vegetation. The road beckons you further westward into the small forest, but for now, the only one to answer any sort of call from nature is Rocket. “Watch out for snakes!” Lyla calls after them. [[Next|LylaQuest 2-3]]

Rocket runs on ahead down the forest road, and the trees send dark shadows down to greet them from their tightly woven canopy. It's almost eerie, how little sunlight touches Rocket as they venture into the wood. To the south, some kind of tower listens silently to the water babbling by to the north. Whatever pre-apocalyptic buildings once stood here, all that remains of them now are walls broken low, besides that tower. Even that's been speared through by tree growth—hardly the worst fate of the lot, but probably not its original purpose, either. Some animals rush in from the east, but they turn south before reaching you. Between their speed and their distance from you, it's hard to tell what exactly they are; they may be some sort of huge mouse or rat, but they're already gone. You turn back to Lyla, and fortunately, she seems much calmer now. You're almost afraid to ask, but you've got to know just what it is about this The Heart Burglar movie that raises so much ire in her. “Everything!” she answers almost immediately. She gets out of her seat and moves to the trunk of the car, and shouts to you from there. “Okay, fine! The music isn't bad! it just isn't fitting...!” She motions for you to come with her to the back of the car, and when you do, she's sat down on the trunk, inviting you next to her. She's got two bottles of water, and she gives one to you as a gust of wind plays a frantic solo in her hair. Lyla hastens to help you up and hand off your water. Then her hands retreat into the sleeves of her shirt, where the wind can't touch them. You figure that's probably why she was so hasty, so she could better guard herself from the wind. “Have you not seen The Heart Burglar?” Lyla asks as you settle in and get comfortable sitting on the trunk. “You're one of the lucky ones if that's true...” You haven't. “Holy shit.” Lyla's genuinely bowled over by this news—even physically, to a point where you worry about her balance. She does wobble, but eventually she settles back into place. “So what do you know about my mom and dad already, then?” (link: "Some.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (goto: "LylaQuest 2-4") }] (link: "A little.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (goto: "LylaQuest 2-4") }] (link: "None.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 3) (goto: "LylaQuest 2-4") }]

(if: $choice_temp is 1)[You don't need Lyla to bring you up to speed. You're aware of Alyce and Grizz. Sure, you've heard the stories about them breaking into the Cross Town Asylum and fighting for freedom and all. But you've also seen them around town, hand-in-hand, almost always smiling and laughing amongst themselves. You've seen them hard at work— “Alright,” Lyla interrupts you about here. “You're already overqualified for The Heart Burglar.”](else-if: $choice_temp is 2)[You certainly know of them. It's hard to live anywhere near Cross Town and not hear the name “Alyce Brangwyn” come up somewhere. Her story of growing up in some sort of sinister laboratory ties deeply into the history of Cross Town, and it has elevated her to a position of renown. And Grizz— “Okay,” Lyla interrupts you about here. “That's good! You're already giving Mom way more credit than The Heart Burglar does.”](else:)[Lyla blinks rapidly at you. Her lips silently tumble together as she searches for a way to respond, and she settles on, “How?” Then she tenses up for a moment and adds, “I'm sorry, most people in Cross Town have at least seen my mom Alyce on the news or something.” Then she wags her finger at you and laughs. “But you're just the sort of person I wrote 'The Fox and the Thief' for.”] Lyla waits for another gust of wind to go blustering by before she continues. You both help yourself to a drink of water as the wind carries on. “Okay,” she gasps, lowering her bottle the moment there's a chance to speak. “So Mom is a prisoner of the Asylum, she escapes, meets Dad, they live together on the streets, they return to the Asylum to stop it for good.” Lyla's hand gestures draw lines between these points in her parents' lives, and a swish of her wrist circles them. “That's the general timeframe The Heart Burglar is about. Only...they get the facts completely wrong, and it's not fair to Mom and Dad. Especially Mom.” Lyla stops to fuss with her right ear. It takes a bit for you to notice she's actually holding it out to you; her hand rests beneath the floppy dog-like ear such that it drapes over her and toward you. “I'm a dog cross,” she tells you, “and if it wasn't for Mom's hard work, that simple fact...would be punishable by death. And not a humane one, either.” You can see Lyla's eyes almost glaze over as she imagines this hell for herself, but she shakes it off after a few seconds. “And The Heart Burglar did her so dirty.” Lyla doesn't manage to elaborate. Instead, both she and you are distracted by something hitting the north-south road nearby. At first, you register the sound; it's crunchy and wet, and something about it unsettles you already. When you turn to look, there's one of those rodents from before, splattered across the aged asphalt. From a closer distance, you can now tell it's big, the size of Lyla's entire upper body. However it managed to fall from above, the landing split the poor critter open, and you don't feel like studying its appearance too intently given the circumstances. Nor can you—Lyla ducks down behind the car, and bids you to follow by yanking on your clothes. “C'mon, $name!” she hisses quietly. You can barely fix a questioning gaze upon her before her urgency grows. “Hide over here!” [[Next|LylaQuest 2-5]]

Lyla's insistent grabbing and pulling actually hinders your effort to climb down. Once you tell her to take it easy, she relents, but she doesn't relax, not until you join her huddled behind the car. Her gaze is transfixed toward the street, toward that dead rodent. The moment you look over to its corpse again, so too does something new approach the scene in the span of an eyeblink. The very dust flees the new creature and the rapid beats of its wings. You're not sure if this thing is a bird or an insect; it's got the general look and shape of a bird, and most of its body is adorned with white feathers, but it flies on translucent and featherless wings. There's a tube-like structure hanging off its face the length of its entire body. After it darts over to the fallen rodent, the winged thing plunges that tube into the carcass. Its wings flap slower as it feeds, but they do not fall entirely still, even when its body slumps into a landing. “Fuck,” Lyla blurts. The hush over her voice has lifted entirely. “I...think we ought to get back in the car?” She thinks? And why isn't she talking quietly? You decide to start with the latter question. Lyla answers by jutting her chin toward the winged creature. As she does, it withdraws its feeding tube and nudges the rodent with its head. After it rolls the corpse over, it dives back in, and begins feeding from a new spot. “Hummingbloods can't hear,” she replies. “But they're very...it can feel our breaths, and our hearts beating.” Getting in the car seems to make sense to you, then. It would block the pulse of your heartbeat, and also block the hummingblood's proboscis. But if the creature can feel your heart beating inside your chest, you wonder if it would feel the car doors too. [[Next|LylaQuest 2-6]]

“Yeah,” Lyla confirms, “we'll have to get in on this side.” She slowly opens the nearest door and clambers into the driver's seat from the back seat. You follow suit, but when you reach for the door, Lyla snaps at you. “Hey! Sorry...you can't close that yet. We have to wait for Rocket.” You weren't going to shut it all the way. Once Lyla abates, you gently guide it part of the way closed, so that it's within reach as you relax in the seat behind Lyla. The hummingblood's attention has drifted away from its prey, and it turns its head to survey the area. The blustering winds persist outside the car. Maybe that's a stroke of luck for you and Lyla; maybe the force of the wind is disrupting its usual sensitivity. Instead, it pushes itself off the ground, and turns its entire body to scan its surroundings with compound eyes. “...ewww,” Lyla mumbles as she watches the hummingblood turn. She reaches for the air fresheners again, and fidgets with them erratically. The stress of being at that creature's mercy—not to mention Rocket being out there somewhere, still—seems to be eating away at Lyla. You try to offer her some encouragement, and given what she said earlier, you start by trying to get her to think of her parents. (link: "Ask Lyla what Alyce would do at a time like this.")[{ (set: $dorothy_score to it + 1) (goto: "LylaQuest 2-7") }] (link: "Ask Lyla what Grizz would do at a time like this.")[{ (set: $choice_wwgd to true) (set: $rocket_score to it + 1) (goto: "LylaQuest 2-7") }]

Lyla's hand stops fumbling. She turns to you, takes a deep breath, and smiles. “Thanks, $name,” she says. “But...I already have an idea.” You can scarcely ask what idea that would be before Lyla pops open the center console. You can't see what she's grabbed until she closes the lid and returns her hand to her steering wheel. There, pinched between her index and middle fingers, Lyla holds some kind of small firework. “Here's the plan,” she explains. “$name, you hold the door just like you are, please. I'm going to move the car so we can pick up Rocket right away. I just don't want them to have to spend time opening it...I don't want that hummingblood coming after them.” True to her word, Lyla starts the car's engine. As it rumbles to life, it catches the attention of the hummingblood; it begins to fly toward you before its head is even oriented your way. The car passes beneath it, and you find yourself bringing the door closer to protect yourself out of reflex. Finally, you pass the creature by, and it stares blankly at the car from behind. Maybe it thinks the car is a rolling boulder or something. There'd be no such mistaking Rocket, though. And of course, they reemerge from the woods now of all times, with the hummingblood alert and on the move. Lyla seems to share in your fear and exasperation; she sighs and pushes the button on the cigarette lighter in her car. “Okay,” Lyla continues to explain, “I'm gonna get Rocket to hurry. When they get close, $name, I want you to open that door for them...and then get out of their way!” You nod and move yourself to tend to the door. Meanwhile, Lyla rolls down her window, just enough to call out to Rocket. “Hurry!” They don't need telling twice, especially not with the hummingblood still looming nearby. Rocket does hesitate briefly, but they quickly place their trust in Lyla and make a mad dash for the car. As they do, the creature takes note of their advance. Rocket blurts something, but you don't catch what they say, because Lyla takes that same time to shout, “Batter up, fuckface!” In the time you've been watching Rocket sprint back to the car, Lyla's already rolled her window down and lit the firework. You turn at the sound of her voice, just in time to see her lob the firework at Rocket. Your eyes follow the sparking arc of the fuse; its trajectory sears across your vision and leaves a streak you can see even with your eyes closed. With its path so clearly visible, you can't help but notice Lyla's throw won't propel the firework far enough to reach Rocket, much less the mutant insect rushing over to suck their blood. [[Next|LylaQuest 2-8]]

The firework detonates. Despite its size, it rings out with a short, sharp crack, and it quickly envelops your view of the proceedings in a nebula of purple smoke and aluminum sparkles. She may not have hit the hummingblood, but Lyla's throw may have at least been in the ballpark. The star curtain tears apart to reveal Rocket rushing along as if nothing had happened. In their wake, the purple haze clears, and you see the hummingblood listing to the left side of the path. You can only just barely perceive it as disoriented before it rights itself, and begins flying backwards toward Rocket. Just as it did before, it seems to hurl itself along a course first, and orient its body later. You throw open the car door and get out of the way. All you can do is leave it to Rocket to get inside before the hummingblood can turn that feeding tube their way. With time so short, they throw themself into a dive at the finish line, hurtling headfirst into the car. You huddle against the front seat as Rocket rockets along the back, and you swing the door shut behind them. “Safe!” Lyla hollers. Her voice cracks upon a speed bump of anxiety. “Yeah,” Rocket says as they pull themself up into a seated position. They take a few desperate gasps of air before adding, “Barely.” The hummingblood is still out there, but it doesn't seem to be able to track Rocket in the car, much less hurt them. You move to check up on Rocket, but they wave you off. “I'm fine...just tired. And glad...” Rocket pauses to tousle their hair. “...if that thing had...had shown up sooner...I'd have pissed myself. Glad I got it out of my system first.” Lyla gets a hearty laugh out of that. Once that moment passes, you add that you're glad Lyla had that firecracker on hand to startle the creature with. (if: $choice_wwgd is false)[“Yeah!” she agrees. “It's...not really what Mom would do, but...” When that swerve confuses both you and Rocket, she laughs. “Oh, right!” Then Lyla eases the car back on to the road, leaving the bewildered hummingblood to nose around the outskirts of the woods in peace. “Rocket, while you were away, $name asked me how Mom would've dealt with that thing. She would've offered some food and tried to be its friend.” [[Next|LylaQuest 2-9]]](else:)[“Yeah!” she agrees. “It's...sorta what Dad would've done!” When that swerve confuses both you and Rocket, she laughs. “Oh, right!” Then Lyla eases the car back on to the road, leaving the bewildered hummingblood to nose around the outskirts of the woods in peace. “Rocket, while you were away, $name asked me how Dad would've dealt with that thing. And he probably would've ran right at it, so he could try to slip behind it and stab it in the back.” [[Next|LylaQuest 2-9]]]

(if: $choice_wwgd is false)[Rocket chuckles, and you see them nod as you turn to them. “It's true,” they say. “Why didn't you try being that thing's friend, then?” Lyla's answer is immediate. “I'm not nearly as fast or as charming as Mom! I wouldn't have been able to get away if it didn't work!” Her enthusiasm seems to shoot through her, all the way to her pedal foot. She notices her rapid acceleration, gasps, and eases off the gas.](else:)[Rocket chuckles, and you see them nod as you turn to them. “Yeah,” they bark, “but you fight dirty too. And that thing made it easier to hit from behind, the way it flew.” Lyla shrugs as she drives, keeping her hands at 10 and 2 all the while. “And what would I do if that didn't work? I don't have Dad's quick feet or quick wits.” She keeps admirable focus on the road and the conversation, but not so much on her foot, which leadens over the gas pedal as she neglects it. Eventually, she notices it, gasps, and eases off the accelerator.] As she slows down, Rocket peels themself from the corner of the back seat so they can lean on Lyla's seat as usual. “Then I'm glad we did it your way,” they encourage her. (set: $lyla_quest2 to true) Lyla tries to laugh it off, but something's still not right. She's moving and reacting slowly. Maybe there's still a lot on her mind. You ask her if everything's okay. (set: $storymark to it + 1) “Yeah,” she tries to reassure you, but even she seems to find her own cadence unusual. “I just...my way...” Before you can even ask, Lyla starts getting flustered at herself. “...I don't mean to shrug off your compliments. I guess I just never thought of it so much as my own way.” She never—? But she'd mentioned earlier that she enjoys traveling into the wastelands because some of the problems her autism causes her don't find her here. This sounds like one of those things too. But when you ask Lyla about it, she starts to shake her head, and then stops herself. “I mean, it is and it isn't. It's also...there's a lot of pressure on Mom and all of us in her family, ever since the Asylum problems.” [[Next|LylaQuest 2-10]]

“Yeah,” Rocket pipes up, “ever since Alyce became a household name, every household's got opinions on what she should and shouldn't do, and how she should feel about it.” Rocket seems to have recovered from their earlier sprint. Their breathing is still just a little bit effortful, but they're moving around in their seat like it doesn't bother them. “And sometimes that extends to Lyla, being Alyce's daughter.” “No matter how much I—” You look up to give Lyla a questioning glance, but she's holding back before your eyes even get there. She must have realized herself how shrill and snappy she was getting. She takes a deep breath, and then tries again. “It's crazy. I do all this shit to be at the top of my field—” Lyla takes a hand off the steering wheel for once, just long enough to sweep her arm behind her in a wide gesture. It's quick and imprecise, so you're not sure if she's referring to her gear-laden car, or all the way back to the rest stop where the hummingblood was, or something else altogether. “—and people still say I'm wasting my time! Mom doesn't even want me to be like Mom as much as these people do.” You've been inquiring about Lyla's mom and dad, but Rocket and Lyla both mentioned Alyce specifically just now. Do people act like this about Grizz? You ask Lyla this, and she and Rocket both laugh. “Grizz?” Rocket squeezes in between guffaws. “No one in Cross Town is going to be encouraging Lyla to behave like Grizz.” Lyla continues to laugh, but unlike Rocket, she waits until she's done to speak. “I hate to admit it, but...yeah. Dad is wonderful, he's just...” Rather than finish that sentence, Lyla shrugs as she drives. You're curious as to where she's going with the thought, but it turns out the answer is nowhere. Lyla takes that opportunity to speak and does nothing with it; her attention has returned to the road ahead. You glance to Rocket, but you notice they're reclining and breathing deeply in their seat. They're not even looking out the window or draping themself over Lyla's seat at this point. You decide it's probably best to leave them be for a little while as well. (if: $storymark is 4)[[[Next|Old Santa Monica]]](else-if: $storymark is >= 10)[[[Next|Returning to Cross Town]]](else:)[[[Next|On the Road]]]

(if: $choice_temp is 1)[You tell Rocket that, yes, those sorts of facts are a great place to start getting to know them. “You sound like Lyla,” they scoff. “She's always saying, if she can collect all my influences and experiences and opinions, she can understand my perspective. I guess that's what she does with everyone, with her biographies, with her old-world research.” You remind Rocket that the two of you are talking about them, not Lyla.](else:)[You tell Rocket that, no, a list of factoids is not indicative of who they are as a person. “You sound like Dorothy,” they scoff. “She's always saying, facts like these don't mean much, and the only way to get to know someone is to hang out with them. Betcha Lyla's the one who taught her that.” You remind Rocket that the two of you are talking about them, not Dorothy.] “Sorry,” Rocket offers with a shrug. “People usually don't talk to me about me. They usually just ask me about Dad, or even Lyla or her folks.” They sink back into their seat and sigh. Lyla turns her head toward Rocket slightly. She does her best to keep her eyes on the road at the same time, but when it's clear she can't, she simply pulls over instead. “Hey,” she coos, “I don't like it either. You're so cool, it's not fair when people look past you like that.” “Lyla...” Rocket gasps. “As for you, $name, one thing I can tell you about Rocket is that they're the perfect horror movie buddy.” Lyla has pulled over on a wide road shoulder, closer to the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. (if: $storymark < 5)[The morning sun casts much of the area in shadow](else:)[The late afternoon sun glitters upon gentle waves in front of you]. “They help me stay calm when things are scary, and they can do some excellent analyses afterward.” Lyla moves to the guard rail as she does some arm stretches. When she gets there, she switches to limbering up her legs, using the rail as a balance aid. [[Next|RocketQuest 1-3]]

When Rocket listed their interests earlier, they mentioned poetry and horror—an interesting combination. As Rocket urges you closer to the view of the ocean, you urge Rocket along that conversation path, and ask them how they became a horror fan. Rocket offers only a chuckle in response at first. “Well,” they begin haltingly, “it was Lyla's movie nights. We were watching some bad pre-apoc movie about a ghost...Lyla picked up on this and started joking about it, but that ghost hadn't even done anything wrong before people started trying to kill it.” There's a brief pause, and then Rocket seems to realize what they said. “You know what I mean.” You do, but you can't help but find it a little funny. Rocket gestures your bemusement away as a cool ocean wind blows through their hair. Despite large locks swirling around their mouth and in front of their eyes, they continue talking undaunted, albeit a little louder so as to be heard over the wind. “Then there was this other one! About the last humans on Earth! It was better!” When the wind dies down, Rocket laughs a little and returns their voice to normal. “Anyway, it was called The Last Guests. It's about a man and a woman who go to a dinner party, but when they get there, everyone else has been killed by these...monster cats, basically.” Rocket preempts any skepticism you may have about the premise with a shake of their head. “That's not quite what they are, but...I dunno, you'd have to see it. Anyway, as things go on, the other characters die, and these two are the only humans left. Then they start realizing the monsters are intelligent.” Intelligent? You ask Rocket what they mean, as another stiff sea breeze hits the two of you. This time, they simply wait it out entirely before answering. “Well, one, the monsters set up a trap to catch one of the humans. By the end, the humans see the monsters mourning their dead, yowling in grief...in a group. That's about when the humans figure that they must seem like monsters to these cat-things.” When at first you don't respond, Rocket quickly allays a fear that hadn't even been voiced, again. “It makes a lot more sense as you see it.” [[Next|RocketQuest 1-4]]

“A lot of it's in the cinematography,” Lyla adds. When you and Rocket both look her way, she laughs. “Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt!” The wind is having lots of fun with Lyla's floppy dog ears too, it seems. “The longer the humans live, and the more the Kashot—the monsters—come to fear them, the more the camerawork starts to mimic other horror movies.” “I don't think they classify The Last Guests as a horror movie, though,” Rocket says. By their tone, you can tell they think it should be. “But seeing those movies back to back really got me thinking. Now I'm really into horror movies for two reasons. One,” they count, holding up fingers as they go, “horror as tragedy. Seeing the monster as another victim is super interesting when the movie gives room for it. Two, horror as anger.” By this point, Lyla's break has just about ended. “Okay,” she huffs as she does the last of her arm stretches. She walks back to the car, and you and Rocket follow her. As you go, Rocket continues. “The pre-apocs had some weird attitudes around anger. Some folks still do, but...it used to be considered rude just to feel mad, or a sign of weakness. Not even to do anything with it...!” You halt Rocket's conversation for the time being. Ahead of you, Lyla has stopped. A length of metal pipe dangles from her right hand; her grip is loose for now, but she's a blink away from taking a swing at something. If it's the enormous bird perched upon the car she's aiming at, you question her odds. As you and Rocket gather around Lyla, the bird rises on long, thin legs. It has metal-gray feathers that turn blue at the wingtips. It regards you from atop an S-shaped neck, staring down a serrated beak. [[Next|RocketQuest 1-5]]

“Take it easy,” Lyla cautions. You can't tell if she's talking to you, Rocket, or the bird. “Let's not fight, okay?” If it comes to a fight, though, she's ready. Rocket seems even more ready. “Hey!” they bellow, startling both Lyla and the bird. They've got a big rock in both hands, and they hold it over their head in preparation to throw. “Hey, stop!” Lyla switches her pipe to her other hand, to hold it up as a barricade in Rocket's path. “You're gonna smash the car!” She darts her eyes back to the bird, and yelps softly as its feathers begin to ruffle. “And steel blue herons are smart!” And also enormous; it'd be a difficult throw to get a rock that size up about ten feet in the air where the heron's body is, and still have enough force left over to matter. “I don't want this thing dive-bombing my car next time I go to Old Hollywood!” The thought of being remembered, much less recognized, makes Lyla's hesitation make all too much sense. She could probably sweep its legs with a strong enough swing of her pipe, but the same rationale probably stays her hand, too. You can't blame her for that; you would not want to be on such a huge bird's shit list either. But even so, you've got a schedule to keep, lest an even more dangerous creature approach you at night. “Fine,” Rocket mumbles. They lower the rock, but they don't drop it; they'd be weaponless otherwise. They keep it with them, but they continue to shout at the heron instead. “Get off our car!” Rocket's got its full attention, and its neck begins to wobble as it stares them down. “Get back!” Lyla snaps. Her exclamation seizes the heron's attention. Its gaze snaps to her just as it lashes out with its beak, whipping its neck to stab at her. Lyla lets out a terrified scream and grips her pipe with both hands, so as to block the heron's fierce peck. It's so fierce that Lyla loses her hold on her pipe and falls backwards. [[Next|RocketQuest 1-6]]

You quickly move away from the bird to go check on Lyla. “Thanks, $name,” she gasps. “I'm fine.” She clearly got the wind knocked out of her when she hit the packed dirt of the rest area, but that's indeed the extent of her injury, thankfully. You sigh in relief, but that doesn't last long. As you turn your attention back to the heron, you can see Rocket has gotten its attention again. It's taken a few steps, and it's no longer on the car; it had been approaching Lyla about as soon as it had knocked her over. It's certainly nice of Rocket to halt the bird's advance, but now it's after them, and that's still a huge problem. Its neck wobbles, and it pecks at Rocket. In return, Rocket lets out an effortful scream and throws the rock into the path of the heron's head with all their might. There's a horrible thud as the rock breaks apart in midair, and a scream from Rocket, but for a moment, all you can see is dust from the rock. When it clears, both Rocket and the heron are on the ground. (set: $rocket_quest1 to true) “Damn...!” Rocket grunts as they struggle to their feet. Both you and Lyla are audibly relieved to see they're okay. “I think the rock took most of its force, but...not all...!” (set: $storymark to it + 1) Lyla clicks her tongue, but she runs over to embrace Rocket without another word. “You scared me!” she chides them, but only after holding them for a little while. “Yeah, wow, you're trembling!” When Rocket notices this, they cling to Lyla tighter, absorbing the subtle shocks. “It's okay, I think I stunned it.” You haven't been watching the heron that closely, but it is visible there behind Lyla and Rocket, and it certainly doesn't seem to have moved. When the three of you climb back in the car in a hurry, it still lays there. As Lyla backs the car away from the heron, you wonder if it's merely stunned, or if it died hitting its head on that rock. (link: "You guess it's alive.")[{ (set: $choice_heron to true) (goto: "RocketQuest 1-7") }] [[You guess it's dead.|RocketQuest 1-7]]

(if: $choice_heron is true)[As hard as the heron must have hit its head, there's no way it's not built for it. That's the way it hunts, apparently, so it's got to be used to harsh impacts.](else:)[As hard as the heron must have hit its head, there's no way its brain would survive an impact like that. It probably strikes at prey like that a lot, but not rocks.] Lyla seems almost unwilling to think about the heron any longer. Despite maintaining her slow and careful way of driving, you can tell her priority is getting everyone out of there before any more chaos can erupt. Eventually, though, the car rounds a corner, and the spot where she'd pulled over is hidden by the cliff faces of the coastal roads. “Everyone okay?” she checks in. “Yeah,” Rocket says. You let Lyla know you're fine too. “Good,” she sighs. “And also, holy shit...! You really chucked that rock, didn't you, Rocket?” “I...” Rocket chuckles sheepishly and turns in their seat, to lean against the window a bit and face into the car. “...well, yeah, I did. That bird pissed me off! First it squats on our car where all our stuff is, then it tries to kill you!” Indeed, the more they talk about it, the louder their voice gets—until they notice Lyla wincing at their words. Then they stop, take a deep breath, and return to their point with a calmer and quieter voice. “Actually, I was sorta hoping my hollering would startle it away at first. But...it didn't!” Rocket's voice is raising again. You caution them as such, and they freeze up again. “Sorry, sorry,” they say. “I gotta keep it down, 'cause loud sounds hurt Lyla's ears. I just...that bird made me angry. All it had to do was give us a few minutes.” “I'd have given it a juice box if it had let me,” Lyla sighs. “I...” She shakes her head, and her dog ears and her short hair flop around her. “...thank you, Rocket.” You thank Rocket as well, for saving you and Lyla from that heron. They sink into their seat. “Well, uh, no prob,” they gasp. The attention is obviously embarrassing them, and Lyla doesn't seem to be in the mood to converse much. You contend yourself with watching the scenery go by. Occasionally, you take a peek at Lyla, but the more you do, the more you realize the tension is draining from her driving stance, and her usual relaxation is returning to her. You don't feel the need to worry about her anymore, but at the same time, you can tell she's still in the process of relaxing, as is Rocket, so you let them do so in peace. (if: $storymark is 4)[[[Next|Old Santa Monica]]](else-if: $storymark is >= 10)[[[Next|Returning to Cross Town]]](else:)[[[Next|On the Road]]]

“We're fine now, but if that happens again around a greater hazard, we...we might not be.” Lyla shakes her head. “But I don't wanna think about that. $name, when you asked Rocket about their dad, it occurred to me...I don't know much about Mr. Grimsley either.” “Well...neither do I.” Rocket tilts their head at the sound of their own words. “Because earlier, we were talking about how to get to know someone, and $name, you said [hanging out together/learning about them] was a good way. My dad and I never really had that.” Before they can continue, they recoil away from the window to ask Lyla, “You're pulling over?” “Yeah,” is all she says before the car comes to a stop. “I'm just taking a little break.” Lyla puts the car in park, then reaches her hands over her steering wheel, one in a series of stretches. “You can continue your conversation if you want.” Rocket shrugs at the suggestion. “There isn't much left for me to say. I told you already, Lyla...” “But you haven't—ah!” Lyla stretches her hands back one at a time, and she's surprised by the crack from the fingers on her right. “You haven't told $name.“ “Yeah.” For awhile, Rocket still doesn't tell you. Then, you see the window fog before them, as they let loose with a sigh. “Okay,” they begin as they turn back to you, “do you remember Dozersaur?” Before you can even answer, Lyla suddenly turns her head to explain. The burst of movement from her short hair and her dog ears catches your attention right away. “This woman built a tank in her garage,” she summarized. “She wanted to cause chaos and make everyone blame crosses...Mom and Dad were there.” Rocket hesitates for a moment. “Yeah.” They seem unsure of how much to turn their attention toward Lyla, perhaps because their face bears a harsh grimace. “One of the cars Dozersaur sideswiped was my birth parents'...they died that day.” You offer Rocket your condolences. [[Next|RocketQuest 2-3]]

In response, they shrug it off. “Eh...I was only just born. I don't remember them. But Frank Grimsley, he was injured by Dozersaur too. He lost all use of his body from the waist down. That ended his BMX career. So instead...he wanted to adopt someone orphaned by the same attack...wanted to help.” Something snaps Rocket to attention and interrupts them, but you're not sure what, and their vigilance fades before you figure it out. “He always treated me fine...he joined the PTA, helped me change my name and my pronouns, all that. But he's always been pretty distant too, especially when I ask him about himself.“ Before Rocket can continue, another force shakes the car from underneath. Their attention darts from window to window. You ask what's going on out there—is it an earthquake? “I'm not waiting to find out!” While you and Rocket take to the side windows, Lyla remains transfixed as ever on the road ahead. She takes the car out of park and takes off. She's careful not to squeal her tires, but she does accelerate the car so quickly that you feel sort of pressed against the seat. “I am still listening, though, Rocket. I don't mean to interrupt.” “What?” Rocket peels themself away from the window to give Lyla a shocked look. “Dad told me all this and then said he's going to therapy about it, so...don't worry about it! Especially now!” The tremors have put Rocket into a manic vigilance. They drop the conversation abruptly and resume their scan. But there doesn't seem to be anything out there, no matter which way you or they look. In fact, most of your current surroundings are pretty barren. The only exception is the faint outline of a pre-apocalyptic building ahead, with a mass of plant matter crocheted atop it. Shrubby branches reach out to one another with long, thin leaves, while their ends sag beneath the weight of bell-like flowers. The vibrant greens and pinks of this huge plant have caught everyone's attention. “Holy shit,” Rocket mutters. They fetch their camera from their pocket, and start snapping photos. (link: "Ask if you can go check out the huge plant.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (set: $dorothy_score to it + 1) (goto: "RocketQuest 2-4") }] (link: "Ask if that plant might be related to the tremors.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (set: $lyla_score to it + 1) (goto: "RocketQuest 2-4") }]

(if: $choice_temp is 1)[When you start asking about investigating the plant, Rocket's usual energy returns. “Yeah!” they agree. “C'mon, Lyla, let's check it out!” Lyla hesitates, but she clearly can't resist the two of you with your curiosities so aligned. “Okay,” she says. “I've never dared get too close on my own.” “You—” Rocket glances out the window, then back to Lyla. “You've seen this before? And you didn't tell anyone?” “Uh...I forgot where it was.” Lyla sighs a little before she continues. “I was trying to forget, because I was worried someone would come chop it down. If it's living that large...it might be living off of a stockpile of Antidote.” That would certainly explain a lot. Such a large, flowery tree would probably seem out of place even in a pre-apocalyptic desert, much less the here and now. So few things can grow and survive in Agent Venom's wake that there must be something extraordinary going on here for this plant to thrive.](else:)[“Hm?” Rocket hums when you ask about the plant. “You think that thing could've caused an earthquake?” Something had to, you tell Rocket, and that plant is the only thing around. You're not blaming the tree, but it is a suspect. “You both have a point,” Lyla interjects. She slows the car as she approaches the giant plant, so everyone can get a real good look at it. “The earthquake could've come from something else, but it could've come from this too. I've seen plants do things that...even a bear wouldn't do.” You ask Lyla what that means, but she only shrugs in answer. When you turn to Rocket, they reply with a shrug of their own. “Only one way to find out...let's get closer!”] “Okay,” Lyla relents, “we can go take a look.” As she diverts the car toward the pre-apocalyptic ruin housing the giant plant, she adds, “But this isn't why we're out here, remember? So if it gets too complicated or too dangerous, we're leaving. Okay?” You and Rocket both agree, even though deep down...depending on what might be here, this gorgeous tree could be a picnic spot to rival Old Hollywood. (if: $storymark > 5)[Granted, Lyla had very specific reasons for wanting to go to Old Hollywood this time, but maybe on a subsequent trip, you can stop here instead. ]Fortunately, there doesn't seem to be anything standing in your way except the road. “C'mon!” Rocket urges Lyla. “The coast is clear...let's just floor it!” Lyla hesitates, but after a little more cheering and cajoling from Rocket, you can feel the car gradually accelerate. Where she'd once held her speed constant, she now hastens toward the plant, much to Rocket's delight. As she does so, she hits another bump, which only pleases them further—at least until they note the serious look on her face. “Did you see a bump there?” she asked. “Because I didn't.” Granted, Lyla was probably watching the road closer than the two of you, but you didn't see anything. When you say so, Rocket tilts their head your way. “Me neither,” they affirm. (if: $storymark > 5)[“Come to think of it...I felt that one a lot more than you did. I know you wouldn't hit big bumps like that in your precious old car, so...did that bump come up as you drove by...?”](else:)[Come to think of it, that bump hit you here in the back seat a lot harder than it did Lyla or Rocket. Did the bump somehow form as Lyla drove by?] (link: "Crane your neck to look out the rear windows.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (goto: "RocketQuest 2-5") }] (link: "Check the rear-view mirror.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (goto: "RocketQuest 2-5") }]

The three of you check the road behind you; Lyla's eyes flick to the mirrors,(if: $choice_temp is 1)[ as do yours,] while Rocket turns to face the road behind them(if: $choice_temp is 2)[, as do you]. There, the three of you see...something in the road. “Is it a crack?” Rocket asks. Whatever it is, it's hard to say. It's a slightly darker brown against the barren dirt all around, and Lyla certainly isn't stopping to check. It wasn't there before; after all, that's why Rocket felt so embolded to ask Lyla to hurry, right? There was nothing...! When you bring these concerns up, Lyla nods vigorously. “Yeah!” she agrees. “Th—” In that moment, the road ahead splits open before you get there. The old asphalt has silently eroded yet endured in the face of centuries of wind and sand, but now of all times is when it's starting to break into chunks. Lyla shrieks and yanks the car left, then right around a couple cracks. “What's going on?” Rocket asks. “Another earthquake?” They look around in search of a sign, but only the giant plant is there, swaying gently in the wind. Plus, at Lyla's current speed, it's hard to tell just how much rumbling is really going on out there. “Whatever it is,” Lyla answers, her arms and shoulders tense as she drives, “it's not safe here. We can't stop.” “Aw, c'mon...!” Rocket looks to the giant plant, then back to Lyla. “We've still got some road to go...if it stops shaking, can we at least pull over nearby?” Lyla doesn't answer. Her focus is intently on the road, though knowing her, she is trying to process Rocket's question at the same time. “Please, Lyla? If there's an earthquake...maybe the tree roots will block it?” As Rocket continues to plead, you keep an eye on the road along with Lyla. There don't seem to be any other disturbances ahead or behind. But then, such an unusually featureless landscape is not the comfort you once thought it'd be. “It's fine,” Lyla finally says. “We're driving by anyway. If we can stop, we'll stop.” “Yes!” Rocket isn't letting the roiling chaos under the car dampen their spirits. “Let's make a new discovery!” [[Next|RocketQuest 2-6]]

Well, when Rocket puts it that way, it's a little easier to understand where their enthusiasm is coming from. This plant is the only thing around, and the fact that it's grown so heartily is impressive. To also count it as a "new discovery" of your own would be even more special. “...hm,” Lyla mutters as she continues driving unhindered. “I wonder how old that tree is. It must have taken a long time to mature into something so large, right?” Then she shakes her head. “Just...just remember...we have a schedule to keep.” No further cracks or quakes occur on the rest of the drive. You'll still be pretty close to the schedule at the pace you're going. In fact, Lyla manages to overshoot the destination a little, in her efforts to brake to a gradual stop. Then again, it's hard to say just where a good place to stop would be. Up close, you can see the giant plant hasn't taken root from within a building. There are quite a few small buildings not too far from the road, but the plant grows from somewhere beyond them. Its thick branches piece through a window here and a roof there, but—there! There's a metal rail fence that beckons your attention toward a nearby building, and right where they meet, there's an entrance into that building that still seems pretty usable! “$name!” Rocket whoops. “You did it! C'mon, let's go check it out!” You and Rocket are able to guide Lyla to drive up closer to the entrance. “I...I'll stay in the car,” Lyla announces as she comes to a stop again. “I'll keep the engine running, in case there's any more tremors.” “Good thinking!” With that, Rocket exits the car. They don't even wait for you before they start running up toward the building. You glance to Lyla to share a chuckle with her, but she's staring up at the plant as it bows over the car. Its long leaves droop toward you, and as you step out of the car and under the boughs of the tree, you feel...exposed? You're not sure, but something has you feeling apprehensive. Perhaps Lyla feels the same. Regardless, Rocket is out there alone, waiting for you. You jog along the sand to join them, just as they get the idea to climb the fence instead of going inside. They swing one leg over the top of the fence, then the other, and end up sitting atop it to take some pictures. “This thing is cool, isn't it, $name?” Rocket chirps. They lean a little and snap a picture with you in the frame. “There we go. That'll be a nice one of you and the flower...it's even in Lyla's colors, huh?” You can barely look to Rocket before they gesture your attention back toward the flowers. “The leaves and the flowers! Green and light purple!” (link: "Contemplate the flowers.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (goto: "RocketQuest 2-7") }] (link: "Contemplate the complex.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (goto: "RocketQuest 2-7") }]

(if: $choice_temp is 1)[Rocket's right, those are some gorgeous flowers. They hang like bells and curve like trumpets, and their stamen poke out from among the petals. As you gaze back toward the car to contemplate the flower that's near it, it occurs to you: what is this flower for? “What do you mean, what's it for?” Rocket asks. “What are flowers for? That's where the pollen and seed stuff happens, right?” You nod; that's exactly your point. If the flowers are meant to be pollinated, there's no means to do it. There's no insects or anything for miles around, and the way the flowers hang nearly straight down seems to preclude the possibility of wind or rain, not that there's any rain here. You go through this with Rocket while staring at the flower, but you turn at the sound of them gasping. “Hey, yeah...! If it's not pollinating and not growing new plants—” Rocket gestures to the barren expanse around the tree. “—then what are these flowers doing...?”](else:)[While Rocket coos about the plant, you look back at the buildings. Is this really the sort of place they'd keep a thing like Antidote? This isn't a very secure facility, or a hidden one, if the remnants of old-world roads are anything to go by. These days, this is out in the middle of nowhere, but the area was much more heavily populated in the time these buildings were built. You bring this up with Rocket, and they seem to turn this information in their head for the first time before dispensing a gasp. “Hey, yeah...!” they say. “The pre-apocs kept Venom and Antidote in secret bunkers. I remember that. So did someone bring Antidote here, or is this...something else...?” You shrug. You don't know much more about supply chains of pre-apocalyptic chemical weapons than Rocket does. But this definitely doesn't seem like the sort of clandestine facility where anyone would make, test, or store an ecosystem-destroying superweapon, either.] As Rocket asks the questions along with you, Lyla eases the car into a multi-point turn. Her goal is likely to better orient the car for a swift exit; once her turning back and forth is concluded, she's poised to drive the exit road forward instead of in reverse. During her final turn, the car passes directly beneath one of the bowing flowers. Suddenly, from somewhere deep within its petals, a large object covered in white hairs comes dislodged and hurtles toward the car. Perhaps those hairs would have kept a smaller seed aloft, the way a dandelion seed works. This seed's about the size of your torso, though, and there's no way such a wispy wing would work. “Lyla!” Rocket shrieks as the seed hits the roof of the car. Once again, they're way ahead of you, as they take off running to help Lyla. Even as they run, and as you hurry to catch up, you notice the hairs beginning to wriggle against the car. You're eager to ascribe the movement to wind, but there isn't any. If something about that seed-thing means to cause harm, you're not about to let that happen. But then, neither are you armed for such an occasion. Anything the three of you brought that could be used here is in the car itself, either in the back seat or the trunk. Rocket is sure to reach the car first, so you turn your attention back toward the complex instead—maybe something in there can help. [[Next|RocketQuest 2-8]]

You avoid the general vicinity of all the pink flowers you can see as you sidle toward the ruined entrance building. In this place's heyday, folks coming to the area would probably start by coming through here, rather than hopping the fence like Rocket did. It's hard to tell what would have awaited them. There's a myriad of broken display cases, and any identifying information has likely fallen to the floor, and the bones that are piled there deter you from looking too intently. It seems very little has disturbed the interior of this building. Away from the wind and the sun and the sand, much of the place has actually been preserved quite decently, but you sort of wish it hadn't. From here, you can see the tree has grown right through not just the building, but some of the inhabitants as well. There's a mixture of remains on the floor, yes, but there are also some limbs pinned against walls, branches spearing through some rib cages...it's hard to tell if these folks were still alive when this happened, but either way, it's put a permanent damper on your ability to appreciate the beauty of the giant plant. There's really only one way you can go through the building. The plant has grown straight through the walls and windows too, and you don't dare enter any rooms it's taken over. Fortunately, the one path available to you leads you through the building to a sign that's also well-preserved. It marks a metal door near the back of the building as a “SUPPLY CLOSET”. You close your eyes, wish for some kind of plant killer, then open the door. There isn't any herbicide in there, but there are some fence repair parts—spare chain link wound in a roll, and a few of the poles that such fencing would be stretched between. In this corner, away from the ravages of time, the metal has held out pretty well, so you take one of these metal fence posts with you. You wouldn't touch a thing like that seed with a ten-foot pole. But you might have to, so it's a good thing you've got one. You charge out of the building with your newfound lance, and book it to the car as quick as you can. The seed is still there, and even from afar, there's no mistaking it—it's using its hairs to force its way inside. Rocket is darting around and looking for an opening of some sort, so it takes them a moment to see you, but when they do, their face lights up. [[Next|RocketQuest 2-9]]

“Dude! $name!” they cheer as you immediately thrust the fence pole at the seed with all your might. The seed rolls a little, but its hairs have seeped through some of the seams of the car doors, and they've got more grip than you thought. “Over here!” (set: $storymark to it + 1) Rocket beckons you to the back of the car, where they're eyeballing the trunk. The seed's hairs haven't wormed their way in here the way they have the doors. In fact, after a few pokes at the seed, you turn it in such a way that there's no hairs or anything else to stop Rocket from opening the trunk. (set: $rocket_quest2 to true) “Nice! Okay, now...” Rocket mutters to themself a little more as they toss the supplies back there like a salad. Eventually, they tumble enough things over in their hands that they find what they're looking for: Lyla's bolt cutter. With thirty inches of handle length, Rocket has to move quite a bit closer than you do to do any damage with that tool. But that works out well for the two of you. From afar, you use your longer pole to turn the seed as best you can, while Rocket ducks down in front of you and snips away the hairs coming out of the seed. As you worry the seed, the hairs not plunged into the car start curling around the pole. You're not sure if it's self-defense or some simpler reflex, but either way, it's good that you're drawing that sort of behavior away from the bolt cutter. The two of you start with the hairs covering the driver's side door, so that you can get to Lyla. The seed's draped so many hairs over the window that you can't even see her, not until after Rocket clips away damn near every hair on this side. As it falls away, you can see Lyla cowering in the footwell, facing the window. Her eyes widen as she sees you and Rocket so hard at work to free her. Finally, all the hairs are pruned away from the driver's side. The seed is still ingraining itself through the other side, but first, Rocket pulls the door open and reaches for Lyla. “We're here!” they comfort her. Lyla tries to respond, but panic drops her every syllable into a wood chipper. You shush her, and let her know everything's going to be alright. With Rocket's help, you guide her to the back of the car, so that you two can apply the same lift-and-snip to the seed hairs gripping the passenger side. Soon, these hairs are trimmed right down to the seed, just like the others. And without the hairs to anchor it, the seed is easy to roll away with one last jab from your makeshift staff. [[Next|RocketQuest 2-10]]

With that done, the metal rod tumbles out of your hands. You don't even realize until you hear it hit the dirt nearby. Then you shake it off and turn to check on Lyla. “I'm...I'm fine,” she says. “Thanks, $name—and you too, Rocket. You two were great...!” Lyla leans against the car and lets out a heavy sigh. Once she's regained her composure, she joins the two of you in standing near the giant seed—but not too near it, not after all of that. As soon as Lyla steps up, Rocket is ready with a question. “Why do you think it did that...?” Lyla shakes her head. “I don't care. I'm outta here. If Audrey 2000 here wants the place to itself that fuckin' bad, then...it can have it.” (link: "Audrey...? 2000...?")[With that, Lyla is gone. You're not even sure she heard you on her way back to the car. “C'mon,” Rocket says, giving you a friendly thump on the shoulder on their way past. While the others pile into the car, you steal one last glance at the flowering tree. It stands there looking oblivious to everything that just happened beneath its boughs, but you've got a feeling that's not entirely true. It's that same sort of feeling you got earlier, when you stepped out of the car. It's that feeling of being watched, a feeling which has wrenched your glance askance many a time. This time, you glance upon that enormous flowery tree. Then you turn back toward Lyla and Rocket. You're with them on this one. This little side-excursion is over. (if: $storymark is 4)[[[Next|Old Santa Monica]]](else-if: $storymark is >= 10)[[[Next|Returning to Cross Town]]](else:)[[[Next|On the Road]]]]

(if: $choice_temp is 1)[They sure did sprawl. What strikes you about the ruins ahead, and some of the places you've passed through to get here, are just how large they are. While plants and animals have claimed most of the area, there are still recognizable miles-long swathes of old-world settlements. Cross Town is home to, what, 15,000 people or so? Some of these places you've passed through could hold ten Cross Towns, or a hundred, or more—and that's even with so many of the buildings so dilapidated that they're not even fit for squatting in overnight. “I like the ruins,” Lyla says, “but I wouldn't wanna live here.” You see her face wrinkling up in the rear-view mirror. You go to chide her—that's not what you meant—but she laughs before you can. “I'm kidding, I know what you mean. It's enormous...there used to be so many people here, until...” “Hey!” Rocket snaps. “First you ask me to imagine them alive, by the millions, then you start talking about all of them dying!”(if: $rocket_quest1 is true)[ Such a terrible event would be horrific beyond measure. But you thought Rocket liked horror...! “Yeah! Horror...stories! Not real and terrible things that have happened and can happen again!”]](else-if: $choice_temp is 2)[They sure did sprawl—not just through space, but through time as well. The previous civilization's been gone for about a thousand years, and here Lyla is, fangirling over their cultural artifacts. Their Agent Venom and their dilapidated cities still scar the planet. “Hey,” Rocket snaps as your list goes on. “Lyla and I are trying to picture them alive, you know...!” “Sure, but $name has a great point too,” Lyla concedes. “If you think you're surprised by the switch...what about them?” Rocket writhes in their seat a little. “Actually, if it's alright with you, maybe let's not get me thinking how easily the world can end.”(if: $rocket_quest1 is true)[ It sounds like a horrifying scenario, for sure. But you thought Rocket liked horror...! “Yeah, well, that's different! This is gonna get me thinking something horrific will happen...to us!]](else:)[They sure did sprawl—like cats. When you make the comparison, Lyla and Rocket laugh, but you're not entirely joking. What the others are describing is a life of luxury. Many of the ruined buildings you've passed have been palatial; even now, many of them stand far larger than Lyla's own library. And even if they didn't always have it quite so good as Lyla makes it out to be, at least there weren't corpse mutts. “Yeah,” Lyla agrees, “not until—” Rocket tries to impede Lyla's sentence by babbling desperately, but to no avail. Lyla's hinted strongly enough at the end times that there's no not thinking of it now. “Great,” they moan, “you killed the mood.”(if: $rocket_quest1 is true)[ It's true, it's hard to keep a silly sleepy kitty top of mind when Lyla's introducing an element of horror. But you thought Rocket liked horror...! “I do! But there's a difference between a fictional horror and a real tragedy—especially one that could happen again!”]] Suddenly, a large blur of motion catches your eye. As Lyla takes you up an inclined road, something comes bounding down the street below, to your right. You and Rocket move to the windows to see some sort of black-furred creature going the other way. It's hard to see from your vantage point, at least until it leaps to catch one of the birds that was jostled from the bushes earlier. It's a small, puffy bird, gray with a white chest. Soon, though, it's a blood-red smear in the sky, dangling from an outstretched claw of the furred beast. The thing must have jumped at least ten feet up to reach its prey, and put all its focus into the perfect pounce. Its body corkscrews through the air, and even its feline face flaps erratically as it arcs along. As the beast tries to right itself in midair, the bird slips off its claw and is thrown toward the pavement. [[Next|Old Santa Monica (3)]]

Rocket sits firmly in their seat. They're pointedly facing forward, so as not to see the bird's landing. “What is that thing?” they ask urgently, of the large black cat that killed that bird. “Vintner,” Lyla replies, with her usual calm and low-key cheer.(if: $lyla_quest1 is true)[ When she said she feels at ease out here in the ruins earlier, she wasn't kidding. This weird cat just pounced ten feet up and killed in the blink of an eye, but Lyla is less apprehensive around that than she was her movie guests the other night.] “Was its jaw all crooked? If so, it might've been Vintner Buono.” “Vintner...Buono...?” Rocket repeats. You're pretty stunned by the nickname too, but you tell Lyla it was a little hard to tell. Everything on that beast was held crooked and spinning wildly just now, except for that one outstretched claw, which spun exactly where it needed to. “Ah well,” Lyla sighs. “If he's going that way and we're going this way, we probably won't see each other again.” The way she's going is left, then right, to drive along the outskirts of the ruined city proper. Some of the places you've seen have been reduced to rubble, and indeed, some of these buildings have also been wrecked. After all, no one's been here to maintain them in about a thousand years. But then, there's a lot that's still intact here. Rocket seizes the opportunity to go photo-crazy, but you're left with nothing much to do besides bask in the eerie opulence of the old-world city, as it waves back to you with a rusted archway straddling the street. The buildings to your immediate left are all white. Perhaps their true colors have faded to alabaster in the wake of time, or perhaps they were always this way. The roads and signs have been more unambiguously ravaged by time, but even without the written instructions they once held, the road seems plenty passable through multiple avenues. There are some planters the old-world humans set into the roads and sidewalks, to share their great city with the plants. Now, with no humans to share with, most of these planters have become overrun with enVenomated weeds and grasses. [[Next|Old Santa Monica (4)]]

Lyla takes a left, and you're hit with the unmistakable sight of a row of restaurants. When the word escapes your lips, Rocket takes it and copies it. “Restaurants?” they chirp. You're pretty sure that's what these were. You can make out the frames of awnings, surviving long after whatever fabric once stretched over them. There are chairs and tables strewn about, which were probably once arranged in neat clusters. A few blocks in, you peer into the window of one of these buildings, and see the outline of a bar's stools and counter. Then you see a smudge in the shadows of the building, as a black rodent scurries over the bar to find a better hiding spot. Lyla sticks her head out of the car window and shouts, “'scuse me, fellas!” (if: $lyla_quest1 is true)[ She's got a lot more patience for them than she did the rock hares. ] There's a few more rodents ahead, and they clear the road at the sound of her voice. “Thanks! And look out—think I saw Vintner Buono just now!” “Lyla?” Rocket asks as the drive through the ghost town continues. “Is it wise to be yelling like that? What if the, uh, the vintner hears you?” Lyla shrugs. “Oh, please, ever since I broke his jaw, he goes running for cover every time I get out the pipe.” Lyla lets that sink in as you drive past more bleached buildings. The course continues straight ahead despite the maze of turns presented to you. You're grateful for her know-how; it would be easy to get lost among the crowded buildings. It seems like no two buildings are alike in shape, but that only serves to give the place a more alien, intimidating feel. Whatever these places may have once been, it's just a colorless field of featureless geometry now. The plant life reaching eagerly from their planters are a welcome break from the erratic yet monotonous sight. (if: $rocket_quest2 is true)[ Or, they would be, if it hadn't been for that giant willow-like tree from earlier. After an encounter like that, you can't help but wonder if they might be as vicious as the vintner, if given the chance.] “Damn,” Rocket muses. “You were so quiet and scaredy in school, and look at you now...!” [[Next|Old Santa Monica (5)]]

“Yeah?” Lyla says. “Thank you...but I wish Dorothy was here to look at me too. I keep trying to get her to come with on one of these trips, but...” But what? You ask Lyla, and she hems and haws for a little bit before she answers. “Well...she wanted to come this time, but...she's on her period.” Rocket scoffs. “So what, I was your second choice?” “Rocket, no! I just knew you wouldn't need convincing to go across the continent!” What's Lyla talking about? This is certainly not a cross-continental trip. “No, $name...this is just the beginning.” Lyla goes quiet for a little bit, though you can tell she's trying very hard to put her thoughts into words. Her head bows in so much thought, she almost looks away from the road—almost. You focus in on Lyla, rather than those oddly bleak buildings, and the attention seems to embarrass her. She wrenches her gaze away from you, and almost away from the road—almost. “Well...I was gonna take Dorothy here to warm her up for an even bigger trip I'm planning.” “You are?” Rocket gasps. “Dude, when?” Lyla laughs at the question. “See, I knew you'd say that!” There's a break in the amorphous motontony of the white blocks on the left. Sure, it's still a white building with smashed windows and an arrangement of planters around it, but this one is set back a ways from the road, and claims a larger demense. What really catches your eye about the place, though, is its visitor. At your speed and distance, it's hard to say just who or what you see. But over at the entrance, beneath a large shade that stands lopsided now that one of its pillars no longer stands, there's a person—or is that just another vintner? They're dressed all in black like a vintner, and they slink through the wrecked doorway on all fours like a vintner. [[Next|Old Santa Monica (6)]]

Lyla seems to notice your attention drifting, perhaps through her mirrors. “Oh, $name, that's a hospital. Just think...a lot of people would have been rushed there with unknown symptoms in the early days of the Venom outbreak, and it would have been a prime target for ransacking during the Venomous Age. None of that is any of my business, so I try to leave hospitals alone.” Rocket clears their throat, and Lyla lets out a yelp. “I'm sorry!” she continues. “I just wanted to let $name know while we were passing by...!” After that, the oppressive brutality of the stark white buildings lets up. The blocks aren't quite so densely packed, and you can even make out the faint remnant of a red or a brown here and there. “I don't know when my big trip will be, not yet. That depends on today...and on your help.” “Oh...oh, okay!” Rocket's enthusiasm suddenly triples. “So we're helping you make a big discovery? (if: $rocket_quest2 is true)[ And we don't have to risk getting rooted to death by a tree this time? ] Okay, now I'm really interested...!” “You don't have to if you don't want to, it's just—” “Don't want to?” Rocket gives the backrest of Lyla's seat a playful thump to its side. “Of course I want to help!” “Okay, but...” Lyla sighs deeply. “...it's gonna be the most dangerous part. We'll be delving into one of the old-world movie studios. Someone was working on a film preservation vault around the time of the Venom outbreak, and I intend to visit that vault.” “So they made the movies here,” Rocket summarizes, gesturing broadly around themself, “and they stored them...over there...?” Then they gesture down the road, toward somewhere far to the east. “Doesn't sound right.” “Well,” Lyla huffs, “that's why we're doing this before we go running off across the land.” Then she begins easing the car to a stop. “We're here...!” There's a heavily overgrown city block up ahead to the right, and judging by the car's trajectory, that's the destination Lyla's referring to. [[Next|Old Santa Monica (7)]]

“Wow,” Rocket gasps as they look into the area—first through their own eyes, then through the viewfinder of their camera. Most of it is utterly consumed by dull green grass that's taller than they are. There's a path that may have once been navigable by car, but a tree has collapsed along the path, and the tall grass has also taken root in any and all cracks in the road. If there's another such barricade further down the road, it'd be hard to spot right up until you crashed into it. “This is as close as I can get the car.” You ask Lyla about any other roads, but she shakes her head. “Most of the roads are all fucked up like this...” “Well, if that's the way it is...” Rocket shrugs and flings their door open. “...let's gear up and go!” You and Lyla also exit the car, and she gets right to work, pulling out duffel bags and backpacks and all sorts of gear. She also gets a few bottles of water, one for you and one for Rocket. Then she stares down the verdant road, drops to her knees, and begins to sort her things into backpacks for everyone to carry. She starts by selecting her fence cutter from a bag of long tools. You ask Lyla what the plan is, and she shoots right back to her feet, leaving the cutter on the ground. “Oh, sorry!” she says. “After showing you the map and all, I should probably explain this one.” Where the tree has fallen leftward across the road, Lyla guides your eye to the right of its trunk, where the grass has been trampled into a pathway. “The studio is south of here, past the cemetery, and there's an access—” “A cemetery?” Rocket shrieks. “Oh, yeah, people were just dyin' to get in here.” “D'oh—would you—” Rocket seems like they're trying to berate Lyla, but they can't, not even playfully, not with laughter burning up their every attempt. And just when Rocket's regained their composure, Lyla calls out “Watch out for snakes!” just like in the movie, and they crack up again. [[Next|Cemetery (1)]]

Without Lyla's car here to envelop you, the open air of the overgrown cemetery seems to prick at your neck. That could also be the sun, as it bears down on you from directly above in a cloudless sky. In exchange for bearing the burden of its rays, you three Atlases don't have to worry about nearly as many shadows for animals to hide in. [if you asked Rocket about their parents] Of course, there's always the possibility that the plants ate them all, apparently. [end if] Lyla isn't taking any chances, though. She and Rocket are flattening the grass ahead, while you're watching their backs. Even as they're discussing the ethics of stepping on the grass—especially now that it's grown so big that much of it ends in feathery pale yellow plumes instead of in blades—she grips her metal pipe in her right hand. You can't engage too much with the conversation because you're watching those plumes, and the insects dancing among those plumes, and— Lyla lets out a little yelp, pulling your attention her way. “Oh, I'm fine!” she reassures you and Rocket. “I just bumped something...might be a tombstone.” At one point, there was some kind of path through here for visitors. It's hard to follow it now that everything is engulfed in waves of grain. “Wouldn't want to run into that at top speed.” “Yeah,” Rocket agrees. They steer the group leftward to get around it. “Or at all.” “Huh?” “It's a grave, Lyla!” “Oh,” says Lyla, “that, still?” She starts to wave her metal pipe in front of her as she walks, and soon she ends up clinking against another headstone. “C'mon, the whole city's a graveyard. And they probably didn't even get the chance to bury everyone.” “That's not helping!” The two of them continue to bicker like this as they make their way southward. Since there's no other stumbling blocks directly ahead, you leave them to their discussion and resume your surveillance. There sure don't seem to be any threats, though. The insects and small mammals around here are more interested in eating the grass than you. It's quite serene and verdant compared to the rest of the city; even those planters from before didn't grow this healthily. [[Next|Cemetery (2)]]

You turn to Lyla during a break in her conversation with Rocket. “Yes, $name?” she calls to you. When you ask her about the greenery, she shrugs. “Oh, someone probably spread Antidote here to form an oasis.” “An oasis?” Rocket repeats. “Like a desert pond?” “Yeah!” This answer doesn't look like it helps Rocket either. Now they're moving much more cautiously than before, probably afraid of stumbling into water the way Lyla stumbled into rock. “Folks do this a lot, especially way back when people first discovered the Antidote. It was this powder you shook out and let seep into the ground. People made little rest stops with it.” “Neat.” Rocket pauses to drink from their water bottle. It was kind of those who have been here before you, but you brought your own supplies. (if: $you_brought is 3)[ Or, more accurately, Lyla did. There's no need to tap into the local supplies when she brought a car full of her own tools and food and medicine, and plenty of bags to hike it with you into the ruins. ] “But...if this is a rest stop, where would you have gone from here?” Lyla goes to answer, but Rocket waves their hands to shush her. “Vaquero country, sure, but then why do this in the maze of ruins? Why not...outside...?” (set: $storymark to it + 1) Lyla shakes her head. “Fuck if I know! Maybe they were gonna drop it somewhere else and died here. But that's the nice thing about carrying Antidote...even if you do die, you still leave that Antidote somewhere.” Rocket sighs. “Again...not helping...!” “Fine! Then let's ask $name...how's it look around here?” It looks downright peaceful. “See, Rocket?” Lyla chirps. “Peaceful. With the Antidote in place...it's just like a park in Cross Town!” Rocket slows to a stop. Their eyes are closed, and their breathing has become slow and rhythmic. Perhaps they're imagining such a park now. After a few seconds, their eyes creak open as they tell you, “...okay, yeah, that does help.” [[Next|Cemetery (3)]]

“There you go,” Lyla says as you and her help calm Rocket down. “Sorry I'm not better at being comforting, but...a lot of this stuff is my comfort.” Lyla gestures forward at the high walls of the movie studio ahead. In their time, they would have done a great job of preventing any eavesdropping or intruding on a film in progress. Now, those lots sit vacant, turned into vaults by these outside walls and their dutiful endurance. “Sometimes I feel so...so stifled by life in Cross Town. No matter how much people like me, how many friends I make, I can't shake the feeling that I don't fit in.” So then, you ask Lyla, does she feel like she fits in out here? “No!” Lyla answers through a giggle. “But I don't feel any pressure to fit in out here. And that's just as good!” Finally, your group reaches the southern edge of the cemetery. The walls seem impossibly imposing when you're right up against them like this. Despite the centuries, they remain unbroken and unbothered. How does Lyla plan to get around this? You ask Lyla, and she shrugs. Rocket's right—she's not very helpful when it comes to comforting thoughts. “I figure there's gotta be a gate or a break in the wall somewhere.” “And if not...?” Rocket asks. “Then we'll climb it.” Rocket nods and takes to the task right away. They start by taking a right, where the grass is thinner. The outline of an old path is still visible here, which lets them move at their usual top speed. You and Lyla can barely make a move to catch up before Rocket's looking back your way. “C'mon!” they urge you. “There's an opening here!” Lyla steps quickly to keep up. This throws her off-balance almost immediately, but she's able to clap her left hand against the wall and prevent a fall. The long-dormant dust upon the wall is eager to cling to her glove, and her disturbance leaves the impression of a wavy line. Trace amounts of that dust spray off her fingers, as Lyla parlays her misstep into a joyous little pirouette as if that had been her plan all along. [[Next|Cemetery (4)]]

“What'cha got?” Lyla asks as she finally reaches Rocket at the southern end of the old-world cemetery, with you close behind. Rocket isn't nearly as enthused, though. They stand before a ruined doorway, one hand gesturing to it, the other on their hip. “I think it's a crypt,” they answer. “I'm definitely not going in there.” “It's okay,” Lyla reassures them, “me neither. Looks like water damage fucked it up pretty bad...” Lyla peeks around you as the two of you appraise the building. There's actually multiple entrances behind this fallen arch, but all of them bear thick, mossy carpets along their floors and up their walls. The ceiling has caved in on the interior as well, and now-illegible nameplates lie scattered among the debris. The entrances to either side are cut off almost immediately. There may be a path onward through the center entrance, but it quickly comes to a T intersection, and its side paths are likely impassable as well. And if they're not, they could easily cave in while you're there. It's unanimous, then. You'd rather not go inside either. “Good,” Rocket huffs. Then they're off, leading the way down the old path yet again. As they go, Lyla stops and laughs. “Their dad was right,” she muses, “the name Rocket suits them.” You look to her for further explanation, but all she says is, “Mom likes running off like th—” And then she's cut off by Rocket's scream in the distance. Then, for all Lyla's talk, she takes off just as quickly as Rocket had. Her body's clearly not used to moving at that speed, but she does what she must to reach her friend as soon as possible. Rocket has fallen away from another mausoleum entrance, but they don't seem injured and you don't see any creatures nearby. When Lyla gets there ahead of you, she immediately falls to her knees next to Rocket. She looks around briefly, then gives them her undivided attention as she consoles them. [[Next|Cemetery (5)]]

When you round the corner, you can see what all the ruckus is about. There's another entrance here, alright, and another resting place for the dead. But while most of the bodies here are properly interred, there's three skeletons huddled in here, two adults and one child. From the tattered remains of their clothing, it's clear these deaths came later, during the Venomous Age. Suddenly, there's movement from within the old clothing. Armor plates bulge and wriggle upon one of the skeletons, as something pushes on the fabric they're attached to. Finally, the culprit reveals itself. Black beady eyes sit at the end of a rope of red and white unfurling from the upper ribs— “A-ha!” Lyla shouts. “Told you!” Then she puts the silly voice back on, the one she's been doing all trip. “Watch out for snakes!” “What do we do?” Rocket whispers urgently, side-eyeing the snake the whole time. “Just keep going. You too, $name.” You nod and urge Rocket to continue down the path. They're transfixed on Lyla, and you can't blame them. Once you get a few yards away, you stop and observe her more carefully. She's moving slowly, pipe outstretched toward the snake. Whatever her plan is, she too gets away from the snake before she has to try it. The three of you continue on past the second gate, and leave the snake alone. “That's a relief,” Lyla groans by the time you reach the third gate. It too is collapsed, though this time you can see the remains of a table and chair among the rubble. Whether she's talking about the lack of snakes in this area, or the fact that the one you've seen hasn't decided to follow you, you're not sure. She might even be talking about the exit ahead, a great archway still standing between the cemetery and another road. That street would have been blocked off on your initial approach down the old boulevard, but from this side, there's one dilapidated car in the road and that's it. Both Lyla and Rocket take off running this time, and you fall in behind them. Lyla's still too winded from the last sprint, though, and she can't keep Rocket's pace. While they wait for you two to catch up, they grab their camera and take some pictures of the area. The time-worn arch will surely make an interesting frame for a shot looking straight through it. [[Next|Cemetery (6)]]

Rocket doesn't step through the southern exit from the cemetery, though, not until you and Lyla arrive. There are hinges along the insides of the broad archway, but any sort of gate they may have once held is completely gone. The walls opposite the arch bear traces of graffiti, though they've been blasted by sand and seared by sun until only shreds of red and blue and yellow remain there across the street. To the south, the street lies open, lined with cars that have been parked here for centuries. Walls continue to block the way to a large building—is that the studio? “Yes!” Lyla chirps. “That's one of the individual soundstages. We're almost in...!” There's still a wall there, though. And while walking down the street reveals doors set into the wall, they've got no way to open them from this side. It's hard to feel any closer to your goal—that is, until you venture farther still, and find the end of the wall. An old-world security checkpoint stands unmanned to the left. A small booth guards two roads, perhaps once an entrance and an exit. Now, only an enterprising ivy mans this post, wrapped around the nearest barricade. It makes no move to intercept your group as you make your way to the other side. “Holy shit,” Lyla mumbles. The closer she wanders to the old-world movie studio, the smaller she appears. “We're in.” Then, to make up for her smallness, her voice suddenly swells to a volume you've never heard from Lyla before. “We are so in!” It isn't long before Rocket joins in her cheer. It's clear the two of them are having fun shouting as loud as they can without consequence. Once they discover an echo coming from the tall enclosure of the studios and the outer walls, they start clowning around with that, calling out things like “echo” and “I love you”. [[Next|Cemetery (7)]]

After those two jokers have had their fill of fun with echoes, Lyla beckons you closer. “Okay,” she begins, “what I'm hoping for is some kind of office—” Lyla is again interrupted from her planning by a shriek. But this one isn't Rocket's—it's coming from overhead. There's a black bird with white markings highlighting the undersides of its wings, and it's sailing above the three of you. Lyla clams up to observe it as its flight path takes it directly into the same studio you're visiting. “Yeah, you would do that,” Lyla sneers. Rocket's less calm; they're shouting in fear and ducking into the vacant security booth. It's hard to tell from here, but that bird's got to be at least twenty feet long in the wingspan. But Lyla's attention has already drifted. She's tracing the great bird's path back through the air. “But,” she mutters, “condors don't make that noise...” “Does it matter what noise it makes?” Rocket asks, watching the condor roost atop an old-world water tower. “It's big enough to eat me whole! There's still blood on its beak!” Lyla dismisses Rocket's concerns with a scoff and a flick of her wrist. “It's a scavenger. It's not interested in eating you alive.” That peels Rocket's attention away from the condor. “That's...not completely unhelpful, but it's close!” “Then how's this?” Lyla leans on the security booth from the outside, and the two of them observe the condor together. “That's one predator and one scavenger that are both sated...which means they'll leave us alone.” That seems to relax Rocket considerably, so Lyla drops her voice for the next part. “...pr-probably.” “What was that?” “Nothing!” [[Next|Studio Entrance]]

You enter the pre-apocalyptic movie studio. To your left, four soundstages stand in a contiguous line, all of them now silent. There's also some stages to your immediate right. A cluster of smaller buildings are huddled straight ahead. You assume the property continues further to the south and east, under the watchful eye of the condor. Ever since it alighted upon that water tower, it hasn't moved to face you or anything. “Let me try again,” Lyla says as the three of you approach the first intersection. “My plan is to locate some kind of office or mail center or...somewhere we might find a letter related to a 'film registry' or a 'library of congress'.” She pauses to glance around, her dog ears bouncing with every turn of her head. “I don't know where that would be, or if any of the movies from this studio would have even been selected for preservation. But we've got plenty of time to look around!” Not only that, but you seem to have a fair bit of freedom to do so, too. Unlike the surrounding ruins, often walled off by plant matter or rubble, the roads here are clear. The road you've entered through runs east-west and thus is fairly well-lit, but much of the complex remains in the shadows of tall soundstages and the outer walls. A planter sits fallow along the stages to the left. And so far, the condor's the only critter you've seen within the studio walls. “Well?” Lyla chirps. “Aren't you folks gonna pick a tour destination?” “Us?” Rocket asks. “I thought you were the expert.” Lyla shrugs. “I mean, sure, I'll lead the way, but...I've been to a few already. This is your expedition too, and yours too, $name! So why not see some of the things that you want to see?” You're not about to argue with that. This is not only a time capsule from another era, but from one of its more esoteric and artistic corners, that of cinema. You don't have to be a pre-apoc enthusiast like Lyla to see the potential fun and discovery of such a trip. As Rocket pauses to change the film reel in their camera, you glance around the immediate options, wondering where to start. [[Check out the stages to the left.|Stage 29]] [[Check out the stages to the right.|Stage 28]]

You figure, the best place to start exploring and securing the area is right near the entrance. If something's in there, you'll know it, and you won't be surprised by it if you have to leave in a hurry. “Ah,” Lyla cheers, “just like our surveying the cemetery for stones. Good thinking.” To that end, the group heads to the left, and piles into the soundstage nearest the entrance. It doesn't take long to find a door, and it isn't even locked. There's a sign that may have once said to keep out, but its letters have since faded, and anyone who would enforce such an edict is similarly long gone. But it's hard to tell just what they'd be protecting, too. When Lyla opens the door, you and Rocket peer inside. Between the long-standing darkness and the rows of bleacher-like seating the door has opened up behind, you can't see very far into the studio. But Rocket isn't letting any of that stop them; they charge right down an aisle that lets them past the seats, and onto some kind of center stage. Behind them, translucent walls of blue bear an erratic pattern of circles and squares, bent into an ampitheater-esque arrangement with faux-wood pillars at the joints. “Lyla, $name,” they urge you on, “you gotta check this out!” “Rocket!” Lyla calls after them as she gives chase. “You can't—” Suddenly, she stops talking and moving, and instead lets out an awkward hum. “Stop! I'm getting a shiver down my spine!” “Look at all these instruments! $name, you play any of these?” [[Next|Stage 29 (2)]]

As you survey the area, you can't help but notice, there's a door leading into the soundstage on the right, right there. You dart over to it, and the others fall into step behind you. “Ah,” Lyla coos as she moves, “a bold first step out of the corner we've started in.” You look to her, but she offers you nothing because her attention is on the door, so you turn back to it too. It's has a hook-shaped handle and a decent amount of red left to its paint. A faded sign adorns the door, perhaps to keep out unauthorized visitors. No one is around to check your credentials or anything, though, so you reach for the handle, push it on down, and swing the door open. “What is it?” Rocket asks already, clambering around to your right to peer inside. “What'd you find?” They take the door away from you, so they can hold it in front of themself while peering around the side. You just make way, because that's easier than warning them that they're not gonna see anything in there—it's just too dark. Lyla just laughs and grabs a flashlight from her backpack. “You won't know without any light,” she chides them. That prompts them to prop the door open with their foot and leg while they fetch a light of their own. You, too, pause to turn on your flashlight. (if: $you_brought is 3)[Or, more accurately, it's a flashlight Lyla let you borrow, since you didn't bring anything. You've been given a similarly empty backpack, too; it's got a couple necessities like this, but it's mostly got open space just waiting to be stuffed with old-world valuables.] Now that there's light, it's a bit easier to see what the problem was earlier. The building lost electricity centuries ago, but it's still built to depend on it. [[Next|Stage 28 (2)]]

You step forward to examine the instruments to your right. Lyla, however, steps forward to assume an angry stance; you can hear her dog tail brushing against the inside of her dress. “Rocket, don't change the subject! I'm asking you to be careful...” “Whatever, there's...” Rocket sees Lyla's expression, and they sigh and start again. “...okay, Lyla, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. But look! There's nothing in here but us!” Lyla won't be satisfied until she looks for herself. To that end, she steps cautiously into the room, close to the beam of your flashlight. She checks the bleachers, stage right—where there's a set of gray furniture—and center stage. Then she checks the rafters, and only relaxes when she finds nothing there but inert spotlights. “Fine. Just watch your step from now on, please...?” Rocket nods. “Yeah, okay. Now c'mon, $name, jam with me!” Rocket grabs one of the guitars, then nods at all the other stuff around. They want you to grab an instrument too. (link: "Point out that none of them will work.")[You can barely finish telling Rocket that these are electric instruments before they fire back with, “I know!” They pop a microphone out of its stand, and force their flashlight in there instead. “That's not the point, okay? The point is that these poor things haven't been held in ages. Now jam with me!”] (link: "Pick up a guitar.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (goto: "Stage 29 (3)") }] (link: "Choose the keyboard.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (goto: "Stage 29 (3)") }] (link: "Go to the drum set.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 3) (goto: "Stage 29 (3)") }]

(if: $choice_temp is 1)[You select the lead guitar to complement Rocket's bass. They're already picking and slapping at the old strings of their guitar with their fingers, accompaniment or no. But as you hoist the guitar and give them a glance, they offer you an old pick with a large A on it. “Here,” they offer, “I don't need it.” You find yourself accepting the pick right away—partly just so that Rocket can go back to their own jams.](else-if: $choice_temp is 2)[You move to the keyboard section; perhaps being able to play two melodies will help make up for the fact that you only have one bandmate. There's an electric keyboard here as well as a full piano, which strikes you as remarkable that it'd last all these years. Then again, as you strike a chord, it becomes abundantly clear that, while the piano's survived that whole time, its tuning job has not. You stick to the electric keyboard for now; if imaginary music is good enough for Rocket, it's good enough for you—or at least better than that.](else:)[You move to the drum kit in the back, feeling content that it plus Rocket's bass You wonder just how well these membranes have held up over the centuries, but it's sort of a moot point without drumsticks. There is one drum you can try, though. With a firm press of your foot, you activate an old pedal to strike the bass drum, and the mechanism smashes right through the head of the drum. Rocket can't see the problem from their angle, and they're starting to shrug at you like they want to know what's keeping you, so you move right along to pretending to play along with them.] “Oh!” Rocket chirps. They pause to hand Lyla their camera. “Get one of $name and I playing, okay?” “Uh,” is all Lyla says in reply. You can faintly see her twisting the camera in her hand, at least until Rocket shines their light her way. “Oh, thanks!” With a better look at the device, Lyla's better able to figure out how to use it. Once she's got it in position, Rocket moves to join you. “Okay, and a-one, two, three, four...!” You and Rocket resume your musical number for a little bit, and Lyla is free to hesitate all she needs to before she finally squeezes that button, and takes up that segment of Rocket's film reel. They don't seem to mind waiting, though; despite the quietude of their instrument, they seem really invested in whatever they've decided to play. Their head bows deeply as their fingers double-time across the strings. Only when the photo is taken and they rock their head back up after do they realize you're staring—and when they do, they laugh. “Impressed?” they ask. “Good, I'm gonna have to be if I'm gonna headline Lyla's band!” “What?” Lyla asks. “Oh, come on, look at this place!” It's very easy to look along with Rocket, once they reclaim their flashlight and shine it across the room as they speak. “Studio audience seats, chintzy interview corner, live band...this was one of those late-night variety shows! Like Under the Moon with Terry McBain, or...what's that pre-apoc one you showed me? Here's Johnny?” Lyla opens her mouth to answer, but only a short shout comes out, as Rocket grabs her hand and hoists her up on to center stage. “Point being,” they explain, “this is The Lyla Show now.” [[Next|Stage 29 (4)]]

Then Rocket moves Lyla to the back of the stage, and runs off to the opposite end. “So I'll announce you, you step forward and tell a joke, and we'll get a picture of you. $name, you light up that background, and then maybe we can get one of Lyla and you doing an interview.” “Oh...okay!” Lyla seems a little hesitant, but they take to their mark easily enough. As they do, Rocket begins their introduction. “Hello, Earth! It's September 9th, 472 PV, and it's time to hit the books once again here on The Lyla Show! With special guest...$name! Now, here's...” Rocket pauses for a breath, then belts out a pretty long “Lyla Brangwyn!” They manage to stretch the “a” sound in “Lyla” out a good eight seconds, and they get another couple seconds out of each vowel in “Brangwyn”. You play your instrument, and thus your part in this charade, as Lyla steps forward and acts sheepish before Rocket's enthusiastic applause. They fill the room with enough hooting and clapping and stomping of feet that there may as well be a whole audience making the ruckus. “Thank you,” Lyla chirps. “Wow.” She presses her hands to her chin, peering out at the imaginary crowd. “Thank you, thank you.” You move to help light the scene, while Rocket continues to applaud, and Lyla continues to thank them. “Wow, you're too kind, thank you, thank—okay, shut up already! Damn!” Something about the unusual lilt in Lyla's voice has clued Rocket in on the fact that this is part of the act. They snicker as they cut the racket and prepare their camera. “Thank you. Now!” Lyla claps her hands together, rocks back and forth on her heels, and begins her monologue. “I wanna shout out the fantastic work of our band, the Astro-Nuts.” Lyla sweeps a hand toward the music stage, and Rocket snaps a picture as she bows into her gesture. “Music's not easy, you know...I started out not knowing what I should try, so I surrendered to the French horn.” Rocket stares up at Lyla, waiting for her to finish, but she looks sorta finished. She rocks on her heels and searches the empty hall for something else to say. “But I was so bad...as supportive as my parents are, even they joined the French horn Resistance!” Lyla's jokes fall flat with Rocket—and with them, the whole imaginary audience. “Tough crowd,” Lyla quips, dipping a finger into her shirt collar to pull it off of her neck. Then, rather than continue her routine, she moves to the front of the stage and sits on the edge. “Hey $name, can we do your interview later? We should probably get back to searching.” You agree to that. It'll give you something to talk about. When you put it like that, Lyla chuckles. “Okay...ooh, or maybe you can give a guest monologue...!” [[Next|New York Street]]

Inert lights form a triangle around the entry hall of the soundstage, eager to glint like colored jewels as your flashlight sweeps over them. There are accents of blue around the entryway, and there's a center stage framed by faux-wood, with yet more lights that fail to shine upon it. Most of the walls and floors are pitch-black, blending together in the ambiguity of the shadows. “Whoa,” Rocket gasps as they step through the dark hall. “What do you suppose this was?” You look to Lyla for answers, but she seems oddly tense. “What?” she asks. “Sorry, I got this terrible shiver down my spine...” For all its openness and its now-eerie architecture, the stage doesn't actually have much more info than Lyla does. There's one small desk upon the stage, also as black as if it'd been sculpted from the very darkness around you. Behind it is some sort of backdrop depicting a city at night. “Why do you think it's so dark in here?” Rocket asks. (link: "Because the power is out.")[Rocket shoots a squinting, scathing glare your way. “Yes, thank you, $name.” Then they crack up at your jape and add, “I mean the décor...!”] (link: "Because they filmed a nighttime show here.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (goto: "Stage 28 (3)") }] (link: "Because it wasn't set up yet.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (goto: "Stage 28 (3)") }]

(if: $choice_temp is 1)[If Rocket wants your guess, you'll give them one. The stage is dark because it's something set at night. Back in the day, folks could come here even in daylight and expect this place to block it all out. The backdrop and its sheen would have given the impression of an office with a view. The city has grown more yellow as the backdrop has aged, but then, in all likelihood, the city this image is based on is probably out there somewhere, fading and yellowing too.](else:)[If Rocket wants your guess, you'll give them one. The stage is dark because it's incomplete. Back in the day, folks could assemble and disassemble locations on the fly. It's hard to say if this was the final product, or if further props and panels would be brought in to emulate a different setting altogether. It's still so bare that anything is possible from here.] “Interesting,” Rocket says. Then they boldly step further into the studio, to get some shots of the empty set. You and Lyla both suck in an anxious breath. “Rocket!” Lyla gasps. “What if—” Rocket laughs off her concern before she's even done speaking it. “There's nothing in here...!” Just to prove their point, they take another sweep of the area with their flashlight. True to their word, as they scan a circle around the room, you see the desk, some decrepit camera equipment, some additional seating around the room...certainly nothing to suggest imminent danger. Lyla isn't convinced. She turns her own light upward, to check the ceiling for danger. There, hanging among the rafters, there's some decrepit spotlights, and that's it. Her shoulders heave softly as a sigh of relief escapes her lips. “Rocket, you can't just—” “I know!” Rocket interrupts. “Lyla, you sit at the desk and give us a news report, and $name, you help me light the scene.” “What?” Lyla gasps. “I mean, that's a great idea, but please don't change the subject!” Rocket is already positioning themself in front of the desk and waving Lyla into the shot. In response, she thrusts her arms downward and stays right where she is. You can see her tail beat once against the inside of her dress. “Alright...!” Rocket groans. “Lyla, I'm sorry. I'll watch my step. Now c'mon, let's set up a shot!” [[Next|Stage 28 (4)]]

Lyla takes a deep breath, and finally relaxes. “Fine,” she relents, "let's take the picture." Rocket snickers as they watch Lyla through their viewfinder. “I'm lucky you want this so bad.” “Yes.” Lyla takes a seat in the old chair, and it creaks beneath her weight. “This'll be one for the CTPL brochure.” Rocket takes another glance into the viewfinder, then looks up from the camera. “Hm...$name, you shine your light along the wall behind her.” You oblige Rocket, and provoke a long-forgotten sheen from the mural. “Okay, Lyla, let's hear your broadcast.” “Oh, right!” Lyla gasps. She looks down to gather her papers, but there aren't any. “Um...gimme a sec.” She fidgets a little in her chair, getting squeaks out of it for what may be its first time in centuries. “Okay.” Suddenly, Lyla's voice takes a more even keel as she faces Rocket with a confident grin. “A major breakthrough expands the pre-apocalyptic film world...” She nods to Rocket and adds, “...while a new director creates thought-provoking horror in the present. Today is September 9th, 472 PV, and this is The Lyla Show.” “Three, two, one...” At the unspoken zero, Rocket presses the button, and their camera whirs to life. Your light cuts down on the shadow Lyla casts behind her from the flash. “Nice.” “Okay, is that enough? Because the flash is—” Suddenly, the chair snaps from beneath Lyla. Its four legs meet in a central axle, and it's that axle that's broken. Lyla and the entire top half of the chair go tumbling backward, and she lets out a “fuck!” before she even lands. Good thing, too; you can tell by her grunt that the impact knocks the wind out of her. [[Next|Stage 28 (5)]]

“Lyla!” Rocket shouts. You and them meet Lyla on opposite sides of her to check on her. She's looking pretty frazzled—her body is tense and her legs still drape dutifully forward over the end of the chair—but she holds up a thumbs-up. “Take your time, then,” Rocket continues. “When you're ready to get up...” Rocket has to say no more; Lyla's thumbs-up turns into a waving and beckoning gesture. “Okay.” With one quick tug, Rocket yanks Lyla back to her feet. “Whoa!” she says softly as she wobbles back and forth for a little bit. “Thanks, Rocket.” Rocket wags a finger toward Lyla and tells her, “Don't thank me...just make sure you look before you sit next time.” “Don't start.” Despite Lyla's stern warning, she bursts out laughing. “Look,” she sputters, trying to regain her composure, “is there anything else here...?” Unfortunately, it doesn't seem like there is. Rocket already glanced around this room and found it pretty much empty. On the wall opposite the entrance, there's another mural of a city at night, but there isn't even a place to sit by this one. It's neat and all, and certainly a switch from the bright, warm day outside. But Lyla's answers aren't here. In fact, not much is; was this enormous room always so empty? There's no time to ponder that now. Rocket's already leaving. “Hey, wait up!” Lyla calls after them. Soon, the three of you spill back out into the sunlight in a line. [[Next|New York Street]]

By the time you get outside, Rocket is already peering into the soundstage on the other side of the street. You can't even join them to investigate before they've already stepped back and closed the door. “It looks like more of the same in there,” they groan. “And I'm sick of rooting around in the dark for now...” These rooms were never truly meant to be so dark, or so empty. Your eyes struggle to go back to the bright, sunny day. It was nice and all to step out of the sun for a bit, but now it's Rocket's turn to choose a destination, and they're already staring pointedly down the road, where the street seems to open up. “Can we go that way?” they ask. You look over to Lyla, and she smiles and nods. “Sure!” she cheers. “It'll be good to walk around and learn the layout...!” When Rocket attempts to do so, Lyla catches them by the arm. “Uh-uh...I said walk! We need to save that energy for if there's danger...!” Rocket looks pretty exasperated with the request, but they're waiting for you and Lyla all the same. Once everyone's back in formation, they keep the same pace as you and Lyla. “I have plenty of energy...this mission of yours has me all pumped up!” While their conversation continues, you steal a glance at the water tower. Sure enough, the condor is still there, and still disinterested in your group. It's resting while facing east, and it's no doubt absorbing lots of heat through those dark feathers. As long as it's content, so are you. When you look back to the others, Rocket has taken off again. Lyla's not so exasperated this time, because they don't stop far from you. They're just trying to get first look and a few pictures of some kind of outdoor set. At least, that's what you assume it is. Rocket has found a block of buildings that look markedly different than anything you've seen in this whole studio or the rest of the ruins. Some of the buildings bear varying amounts of fire damage, though it's hard to tell if such damage was deliberate. They're certainly empty enough for a controlled burn, no wiring or plumbing or furniture or anything. [[Next|New York Street (2)]]

“Damn,” Rocket muses, “what do you think happened here?” Before anyone can answer, they turn to face Lyla and add, “And don't say 'a fire', smartass!” A smirk pulls at Lyla's lips as Rocket calls her a smartass. You can tell she's got a response to match even before she answers with, “Two fires.” “You—” Rocket tries to feign anger, but can't. “Damn, Lyla, that was quick.” Lyla chuckles and takes a bow. “Thanks! It's my job...!” “Yeah, but Dorothy taught you pretty well, too.” No one can seize on that tangent, because Rocket is immediately on to another. “$name, can you get a photo of me and Lyla?” They hand you their camera before you can answer. “Just go to one end of the road, we'll walk to you, and you wait for us to get sorta close.” (set: $storymark to it + 1) You nod. You'll do it, but you'll need to know just how close is “sorta close”. Rocket ponders this for a bit. “Somewhere between...” They glance at the road and back, and then continue. “...uh, try to aim for our faces, and when we're so close that our feet go out of frame, then take the pic.” You nod and accept the camera, then stop to take a look around—all the way around. You stand at a four-way intersection with Rocket and Lyla. The north-south road comes through at an angle, lending a unique shape to both the corners and the buildings that are adapted to them. Multiple varieties of brickwork dance together around dark windows as they all congregate in the backdrop of elaborate balconies and fire escapes. Well, perhaps that was the idea once. But now, large swathes of fire damage have weakened the upper floors. Scorched rubble lines the northern road, no doubt pulled into place by those balconies. You won't be able to go far enough to pull off the shot Rocket is looking for, not that way. You look to a different path instead. (link: "Go east.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (goto: "New York Street (3)") }] (link: "Go west.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (goto: "New York Street (3)") }] (link: "Go south.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 3) (goto: "New York Street (3)") }]

(if: $choice_temp is 2)[You turn to take your mark, but Lyla calls out to you. “$name!” she says. “Where are you going?” You're going back the way you came. The three of you have already walked this street together, and found no immediate danger. That makes this the safest angle to get Rocket's shot from. When you tell Lyla as much, she smiles and nods, then turns to Rocket. “See, $name gets it. I'm not trying to be mean...I'm just trying to be safe.” “What?” Rocket asks. “I got that. When did anyone say you were being mean?” “I...” Lyla stops and twists her fingers around her dress straps. “...I'm sorry. Even with all of Dorothy's help, I still get anxious when I think about having to put my foot down, you know? And when I do, I feel bad about it...” “Hey.” Rocket shrugs. “I know how...non-confrontational you get. But $name and I trust you as a friend and an expert, so don't sweat it so much, okay?” Then they turn to you and add, “Now let's do this before the coast is no longer clear back there.” You nod and head back west, so you can set up the shot.](else:)[You turn to take your mark, but Lyla halts you. “$name!” she scolds you. “Where do you think you're going?” You were going down the street like Rocket asked, and— Lyla cuts you off here. “And we don't know what's down that street yet! You could be walking off into danger by yourself!” She stares off toward the western road and sighs. “I'm sorry, I don't mean to be bossy to you, or to Rocket. I just...” Then she wrings her dress straps in her hands. “...I...I want you to be safe. I'm glad you're having fun, but there's a lot of things out here that'll spoil your fun.” “Okay, okay...!” Rocket pleads. “$name and I aren't trying to scare you. We're glad you're here to warn us. But then...” Rocket glances around the scene, and becomes fixated on the debris to the north. “...how do we do this...?” “Oh! $name can go back the way we came. Get it?” “Yeah.” Rocket nods and turns to face west along with Lyla. “We were already there and the coast was clear, is that it?” “Exactly.” Lyla seems a lot more relieved now that she's done going through the barest minimum of confrontation. “When we go into the unknown, we do it together.” “And what about all the times you've gone out here by yourself?” Rocket asks as you venture back toward the soundstages. “Let me tell you what Dad always says to me whenever I catch him like this, with the fact that he used to be a thief.” “And that is...?” “Fuck you, you're grounded.”] [[Next|New York Street (4)]]

From the middle of the empty street, it's easy to set up the shot Rocket wants. They and Lyla retreat down the eastern stretch a tiny bit, then turn to face you. Once you're sure only the burned city is in view of the camera, you signal for the others to approach you. The two of them appear to be in some jolly conversation, which helps them act natural as they strut along this hellish runway. The time to take the shot approaches, you steady yourself as best you can, and then— Just as you squeeze the button on Rocket's camera, something rushes out from the northern street. Lyla twirls to face the creature as it spills into your view, and somewhere in her pirouette, she draws her pipe from its sling on her bag. “Vintner!” she warns you and Rocket. The terrible feline stands at the center of the intersection, while Lyla and Rocket have moved your way. The whole time, she faces the vintner, weapon at the ready. “What are we gonna do?” you can hear Rocket asking as they sidle your way. Fortunately, Lyla is awash with answers. “Whatever you do, keep an eye on it.” The vintner tries to circle around Lyla, to strike from the side where she's more vulnerable, but she's having none of that. She sashays around the intersection, and occasionally twirls her pipe around in her hand. “You can't run and you can't hide...so you'd better be ready to dodge or fight.” Once Rocket is closer to you, they stop to fish a ball-peen hammer from their backpack. Then they jut their left hand toward you. “My camera...?” they ask. You nod and fork over the camera, and Rocket keeps it slung around their neck by a strap. Whatever they plan to do with a hammer and a camera, it's probably not dodging. “You're not Vintner Buono!” Lyla accuses the beast. Whatever structural damage she was anticipating its jaw to bear, it's apparently got no such injury. Its lips are curled back and its teeth are bared as it dances with Lyla. It's hard to judge what shape it's in, though, because now that you're this close to a vintner and no longer encased in a car, what you're overwhelmed with is just how awful this thing smells. Its fur is matted, and it reeks of urine and decay. [[Next|New York Street (5)]]

As Lyla steps around the vintner, you can see she's pulling up the front of her purplish undershirt with her left hand, so that she can use it to cover her face and block out the smell. She didn't warn you about this stench, but then, there's not much she could've said to prepare you for this. After a few seconds, Lyla stops circling with the vintner, and spirals in to the center instead. It attempts to back up, but finds itself stymied by the wreckage of the northern road. It doesn't let itself stay cornered, though. The vintner leaps at Lyla instead, claws ready. She takes that as her cue to charge directly at the vintner as well. This gives her the chance to drop into a baseball slide and take a potshot at its underside with her pipe as she goes. The vintner yowls in shock and pain as Lyla strikes it. As soon as its feet touch the ground, it leaps again, and its claws find purchase in what's left of the buildings to the south. Its claws dig in to the wall of the outdoor set as it scrabbles up to a makeshift perch, where the irregular patterns of damage have left a bit of a spire for it to stand on. The vintner bunches its feet together to stand up there, and it's plenty ready to threaten and maybe even pounce as you as you go by. Lyla offers some further words on the situation, but you can't tell what she's saying. She's just too muffled. She seems to be sneaking off to the east, though, so you and Rocket stare the vintner down as you move to follow her. “Where are we going?” Rocket asks as the three of you slink through the streets. “Outta here,” Lyla answers briskly as she steers the group north, then east again. [[Next|New York Street (6)]]

True to her word, her path leads out of the burned city set altogether. This takes you between two soundstages, but unlike the others, these ones lay broken and exposed to the elements. Whether this is somehow the work of the fire that ruined the outdoor set, or if something else is afoot, Lyla isn't taking any chances with them. Her path continues eastward, until the lot opens up a bit, with some sort of warehouses lining the north, and more large buildings to the south and east. It's starting to look much more like it did at the entrance. Unfortunately, this terrain doesn't stop the vintner. You can see it leaping, just as the one by the entrance to the ruined city did, with a reckless fervor that's terrifying now that it's targeted at you. It skips along to the south. As you form a defensive circle with Lyla and Rocket in a T intersection, with roads leading south and east, the vintner clambers onto the building to the southeast, and again stares intently at you, waiting for an opening to sink its claws into. As it looms there, Rocket grabs their camera and takes a picture of the vintner. “There,” they groan. “But people won't know just by looking at it that it smells like a trash can, huh...?” Maybe Rocket should worry about getting out of this situation before they worry about their audience. When you tell them so, they give a short laugh and ready their hammer. “Alright, $name,” they say, “if you're so smart, what do you suggest we do about this idiot?” (link: "Sneak out of sight.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (goto: "New York Street (7)") }] (link: "Knock it down from the building.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (goto: "New York Street (7)") }]

(if: $choice_temp is 1)[Actually, you do have an idea. When you made your way out of the vintner's field of view, it was hasty to keep up. If you were to duck back down the street, it would lure the vintner to make a predictable response, and you can work from there. If you can lure it out of its element, it'll give you the upper hand.](else:)[Actually, you do have a suggestion. What if you could just smack the vintner with something from down here? It's probably hoping to make the first move, so it seems like the best plan is to take that initiative away from it. If you can take it out of its element, it'll give you the upper hand.] “Wow,” Lyla says softly. “That's some good thinking, $name.” “Yeah,” Rocket agrees, “so let's get moving!” That's all the warning they give before they sweep you and Lyla back to the eastern road with one arm, and hurl their hammer at the vintner with the other. The beast reels from the impact, and Rocket sneaks in another picture. This time, they've got the flash on, which disorients the vintner as it pounces their way. They sweep their arm to move you again, this time toward the southern road. The vintner flings itself too far to the north, which leaves it open to a wicked rejoinder from Lyla's pipe. She takes a step forward and swings at the vintner with both hands, and thumps it in the rear left leg before it can turn to face you. With its advance thoroughly thwarted, the vintner chooses to retreat; it uses its mighty leap to scale the building to the north, then fall in behind the outer wall of the complex. “Watch out for snakes!” Lyla calls after the animal. Then she turns to Rocket and adds, “Wow, Rocket, that was incredible...!” Rocket chuckles as they step around to survey the area for the hammer they threw. “Well,” they explain, “you said earlier you just needed to kick its ass, right? So $name and I got its ass down here for you.” They shrug and add, “Anything to get that nasty smell away from me.” It seems to have cost them the hammer; they beckon for you and Lyla to continue the tour, rather than persisting with the search. By their own admission, one hammer is a price Rocket's willing to pay. So are you, if it means being spared the fate of that bird you saw on the way into the city. With birds suddenly on your mind, you try to take another peek at the condor, but you can't see it from this angle, not with such tall buildings so close to the west. [[Next|New York Street (8)]]

Meanwhile, Lyla is behind the two of you, but not for long. “Okay, folks,” she's saying as she steps out in front, “my turn to choose. And if that vintner went north, we'll go south.” That's certainly sound enough logic for you and Rocket. The two of you fall into step behind Lyla as she leads the group south from the T-intersection. The vintner stood on one long building that makes up much of the block to your left. There's a cluster of smaller buildings in a line to the right. Lyla isn't going to any of them. When you ask her why not, she shrugs. “I figure, that vintner might be upset with us and come back down this road to try again. And if it does that, we just won't be here, and then we won't have to fight anymore...hopefully.” “Why not?” Rocket asks. “We spanked that vintner, no problem.” “It's not about that...” Lyla sighs and wrings her pipe in both hands. “...it's just...I don't like coming into these animals' habitat and beating them up.” Rocket has no response to this, not until the group comes to another four-way fork in the road. The western path is just a smidge further south, but you can see pretty well that way from there. You can even see the base of the water tower better, where the construction of a new building was presumably cut short by the apocalypse. A decrepit electric ladder still waits for a work day that never happened—or perhaps you could say it's found new work, as the nest for a second condor. Its safety gates now safely ensconce a single large egg, and its sturdy base now supports a second large bird. The first condor continues to rest atop the water tower, while the one in the electric ladder eyes the three of you. It huddles down defensively, but does not move from its post. “It's not you,” Rocket reassures Lyla. “You wanna leave the animals be, get what you want, and get out, is that it?” They sweep a hand toward the condors and add, “They're hosting us pretty graciously. $name keeps looking up at that big one in the tower, but it hasn't given a single shit about us.” Lyla leads the group down the eastern fork. It's not hard to guess why; this is the widest berth she can possibly give the condors and their nest. “If they would all do that...” “Yeah, exactly. So maybe it's the vintner who's the asshole.” Lyla doubles over with laughter, and she has to brace herself against the left wall for a moment. “Okay, I hadn't considered that...!” [[Next|Post-Production]]

Deep within the old-world studio, it's Lyla's turn to choose a building to search, and she can't make up her mind. The three of you stand on a sidewalk with your back to a building, but the choices she's narrowed herself down to are the two soundstages which form a narrow block in front of her. She's still holding her pipe in her right hand from the encounter with the vintner, and she gently taps it against her shoulder while she holds her right elbow with her left hand. Every so often, her gaze jumps from one stage to the other. “Oh, just pick one,” Rocket groans. Lyla shakes her head. “You know I'm not good at that,” she replies. She looks again between the two buildings, and as you look with her, you realize the one on the left is smaller than the other. It'd be easy to take a peek inside, and—if Lyla doesn't like the look of it—she can go to the other one. She doesn't accept your suggestion, though. “No. If I get a mulligan, then Rocket totally gets a mulligan. They wanted to check out that burned city, but the vintner chased us out.” “Alright, fine,” Rocket says hurriedly. “I get a mulligan, and I say, we go to the little one.” “But...” There are no buts. Rocket is already crossing the street. You shrug and follow Rocket, and Lyla has no choice but to join you. As you cross the street, you take another look at the condors, and ever since you've taken the turn away from them, they've both returned to complete relaxation. You think about Rocket's earlier point, and muse that you three probably make better roommates than the vintner. [[Next|Stage 6]]

As if to answer your musing, the set that greets you when Rocket opens the soundstage door depicts a pretty nice place for everyone to live. As everyone's flashlights survey the scene, you see the hallmarks of a residential interior, and a spacious one at that. A front door to the right opens into the set, a lofty living room; a staircase leads upstairs, or visitors can circle around the stairs to visit a dining area. Your entrance faces the dining table through the fourth wall, the side of the set left exposed for the cameras to gawk in through. Lyla steps up onto the stage, and her vibrant colors pop against the muted yellows and browns of the empty set's first floor. Once the three of you have swept the area and verified that the building is indeed empty, Lyla puts her back to the staircase, and half-sits-half-leans upon a long table there. “Check this out...!” she says. Her shoulders poke up around her in a shrugging position, as her arms brace upon the table. “I wonder who used to live here...” “Nobody!” Rocket sneers from over by the cameras. “What—oh.” Lyla chuckles and sinks into a deeper shrug. “You're sassing me back...!” Now that Rocket's revenge for that “two fires” comment earlier is complete, Lyla rolls her eyes and tries again. “I mean...what kind of story did they film here?” (link: "Something family-friendly.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (set: $dorothy_score to it + 1) (goto: "Stage 6 (2)") }] (link: "Something dramatic.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (set: $rocket_score to it + 1) (goto: "Stage 6 (2)") }] (link: "Something silly.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 3) (set: $lyla_score to it + 1) (goto: "Stage 6 (2)") }]

(if: $choice_temp is 2)[You're not sure, but this feels like the sort of place that old-world filmmakers would have constructed drama. The wide, open set and the striking staircase behind Lyla would have presented a lot of different options for angles and movement in the shots. Actors conversing between the floor and the staircase could be filmed as if they're right next to each other, but there's also room to shoot from a very high or low angle to make one subject look larger than another. If there was a chase, there'd be plenty of space to capture it in one long, continuous shot. And, much like Lyla's clothes show so starkly against the décor today, so too would filmmakers have been able to dress more important or focal characters in more contrasting colors.](else-if: $choice_temp is 3)[You're not sure, but you have a hunch this was some sort of old-world sitcom. The wide, open set leaves more room for continuous shots that can spill through most if not every communal space in the house. You can see doors on the second floor that would have pretended to lead to the bedrooms. Between the long staircase and the spacious room that surrounds it, characters would have had plenty of room for horseplay and slapstick. And, just as Lyla's clothes contrast against the décor today, so too would jaunty costumes have contrasted against the drab colors.](else:)[You're not sure, but you have a hunch that there were a lot of people here. The wide, open set and the seating arrangements in the various parts of the house make room for about ten people. Compared to the soundstage you saw earlier, where focus would typically only be on one or a few people at a time from a couple basic points of view, there's a lot more wiggle room on this set. That sort of wiggle room is usually afforded to puppeteers or children or both. And, much like Lyla's outfit stands out onstage, it'd be easy for a colorful character or a series of kids to stand out against the drab décor.] “Wow,” Lyla gasps after you finish telling her your guess. “That's pretty good, $name...except one thing.” She chuckles and curtsies your way, fanning out the vibrant green of her dress. “This was a dominant style in pre-apocalyptic times.” Rocket joins Lyla in the living room, and their less kaleidoscopic clothes blend in a bit better with their surroundings. “You mean your outfit?” Lyla laughs at the question almost immediately. “Oh, no, I'm not sure I'd fit in anywhere! I mean the house...a lot of residences I've broken into have looked sorta like this on the inside, but smaller.” “Really?” Rocket asks. “That sucks...! A lot of the pre-apoc stuff you've shown me makes it seem like they were ushering in an age of putting multiple primary colors and neon everywhere.” They snap their fingers and add, “Like those baggy pants, remember, the Zoopants?” “The what?” “That wasn't it.” Rocket starts tapping their foot against the stage. “You know, the ones that got Dorothy mad.” “Oh yeah...$name, c'mon, let's you and me and Rocket go sit in the living room, we'll get a picture, and I'll tell you about it.” You nod and follow the others to stage left, where multiple couches have sat huddled together and untouched for centuries. As Lyla starts directing you and Rocket around her, her plan becomes clear—she intends to get all three of you in the shot. “You hold one end,” she's telling Rocket, “and I'll hold the other.” [[Next|Stage 6 (3)]]

Rocket nods and ducks away from the sling of their camera, freeing the device from their neck. With Lyla sitting on one end of a couch, Rocket's able to drape themself along the armrests and taper off toward the corner. You follow suit by sitting to Lyla's right and putting your legs up on the old couch. A thick odor puffs out to greet you, a fresh scent gone wrong, like laundry that didn't dry quite right—only this has been marinating for about a thousand years. You try to focus on Lyla's story instead. “One thing that's tough about this job,” Lyla begins, as she and Rocket work together to hoist the camera into position, “is that most things just aren't preserved. So when I went looking for Area 51 and came back with a pre-apocalyptic sales catalog, I was stoked.” Whoever's in charge of taking the picture—you think it's Rocket—they pick now of all times to snap it. Whatever expedition Lyla is talking about, it seems like a poor haul to go looking for a whole area and only find a book. You're not sure what a thought like that would've done to your facial expression, but you hope it's fine for the picture. “They were selling so many different clothes,” Lyla continues, not even flinching as the flash goes off, “finding one book with pictures is so much easier than finding each individual outfit.” With the photo taken, you're free to lurch away from the couch and breathe air that isn't so stagnant. You're not sure how Lyla stands it. “But are those outfits the norm, or are they about to set a trend...or are they a fad going nowhere? I tried asking Dorothy for help, because she knows more about fashion and trends than anyone I know. She saw some baggy, stretchy pants that came in these bright colors and patterns...and she told me...” Lyla's starting to crack up even before the end of her story. “...that some things should stay dead.” Rocket starts laughing along with Lyla. “Oh,” they gasp, “I love Dorothy, but she can be so...!” They never really finish that sentence; it looks like they try to think, but then they give up and go on laughing. [[Next|Stage 6 (4)]]

You enjoyed the story too, but you're in the mood to get away from the couch. Rocket leans away from Lyla, and you slough yourself toward the doorway. Only when you open the door do you remember, this one doesn't lead outside—it only leads off the set. Rather than ducking out that way, you move against the far wall and face back into the living room. As you do, another table catches your eye, one sitting around the corner from the living room and next to the door. More accurately, it's not the table itself—it's the pile of old papers that's been left on top of it. You grab the papers, and you can see what Lyla meant. Even in here, the newspaper at the bottom of the stack has become such a mess that even the tabletop around it is damaged. You can only imagine the state of the rest. “Hey $name,” Rocket calls out to you, “you okay?” You're okay, sure, and you let them know. It's just these papers over here; after Lyla just mentioned how hard it is to work with pre-apocalyptic documents, you're not about to reach out and grab them without some kind of plan. “Papers?” Lyla asks. She moves to see what you're looking at, and grimaces. “Yeah...pre-apoc newspapers do that. It's like they're full of acid. Shame, too...” Lyla wiggles her fingertips until they retreat into her gloves, and then she guides them in between some of the papers. “...I bet they were teeing up to do that old gag.” The way Lyla enunciates the word “that”, it's clear she expects you to be familiar with the gag in question. Rocket, however, shakes their head. “What old gag?” they ask. “You know...” Lyla halts for a bit, then continues, “...maybe it's not a gag per se. But that thing they do when a character walks into the scene with a stack of mail like this.” Finally, she separates a series of envelopes from the decrepit newspaper, albeit with a loud rip as the bottom letter falls apart despite her slow and careful approach. “Dammit. Uh, you know...here, let me go out the door and show you what I mean.” [[Next|Stage 6 (5)]]

It can't be that complicated, but this will give Lyla another chance to flex her acting chops. You nod and move back, so you can watch her establish the scene. She doesn't. Instead, she calls out, “Rocket! Gimme a cue! Audience or music or...something!” Rocket chuckles to themself and shrugs. Then, they straighten up in their seats, and vocalize a jaunty series of notes. Their synth-facsimile bounces up and down the scale, and as they hold the final note, the door bursts open. Lyla steps back into the house set, rifling through the acid-damaged envelopes as best she can. “Junk,” she says, moving the frontmost letter to the back of the stack, “bill, bill, junk, b—wait.” Suddenly, all the mail falls out of Lyla's hands, except for one. “No way.” “What?” Rocket asks as they bolt out of their seat. “What is it, Lyla?” “No fuckin' way.” That's not very descriptive. When you tell Lyla so, she laughs. That seems to take her out of the state she's in, so she actually can tell you. “Look at the sender.” She turns the envelope in her hands and holds it up for you and Rocket to see. “Library of Congress.” “A pre-apoc library...?” Rocket muses. Lyla shakes her head. You can hear her ears flapping around. “Not a library, the library! The one that runs the film vault I'm looking for! And—” Lyla's gaze suddenly jumps over to the front door, and back to the letter again. “—what, did it get mixed in with some prop mail?” It's hard to say. Any mail left in that stack for hundreds of years would have to contend with the high acidity of the newspaper. This fabled letter was lucky to be higher in the stack, but not too high, where it may have fallen to the floor. Supporting the weight of its fellow mail has left the return address of this one pressed up against the plastic window of the envelope. The plastic and the printing are both unclear, so the numbers are a little vague—is that 701 or 101 or 181 or—but you can make out the rest of the return address. Independence Avenue SE. Washington, DC. [[Next|Stage 6 (6)]]

Lyla takes the envelope and sets it down on the long stand by the staircase. Then the dancing starts; Lyla shuffles her feet as if running in place, while she just sort of does whatever with her upper body. Rocket is quick to join her, swaying side to side in time with the rhythm of her steps. The wide set makes it easy for them to find the space to break it down. Lyla's dancing suddenly stops. Rocket takes a few seconds to notice, but once they do, they stop grooving too. “Lyla...?” they call to her. “Wha...oh, sorry,” she mumbles in response. “I just...I thought I heard something.” “In here?” Rocket scoffs and waves off Lyla's concerns with a two-handed gesture. “We already looked. Now let's look at the letter! C'mon, open it!” Lyla winces. “But...it's not for me...” “Oh, for...” Rocket darts for the old-world envelope and grabs it before Lyla can protest. If she won't open it, they will. “Rocket!” Lyla hisses as their finger guides the seal apart. “C'mon,” they respond without looking up from their work, “what are they gonna do about it?” Once the flap is free, Rocket fishes inside and pulls out the letter itself. It's folded to fit in the envelope, and it comes apart at the creases rather than unfolding. Rocket and Lyla both yell out in surprise and scramble to catch the falling, fluttering scraps. As they do that, you notice something coming around the set. At first, you only hear it as it scurries around the outside of the home, along the outermost wall of the soundstage. You follow the noise with your flashlight until the culprit comes in through the front door you left open. It's a— “It's not a rat!” Lyla shouts suddenly. [[Next|Stage 6 (7)]]

You don't know when she noticed it too, but she's running across the set about it. Lyla takes a leap toward the rodent and swings her pipe downward as she goes. It's hard to see past Lyla, but did...did she just smash right through the thing's head? No, she didn't. As she pulls on her pipe to free it, she steps to the right, and you can see the truth—the creature's head has split in two. The ratlike head is some sort of decoy; it's really a pair of mandibles that likely draws prey toward its real mouth underneath. And since the real mouth is just a chittering pit of teeth lining its neck inside and out, you're glad Lyla somehow knew the difference. On the outside, it looked like a large brown rat, so large that it comes up to about your knees. You've seen similar rodents here and there. Now, though, you can see Rocket approaching the creature, holding one of the dining chairs over their head. Its tail is rearing up and peeling apart, revealing a barbed end. Before it can stab Lyla, Rocket leaps in and smashes the chair across the creature's back. The more the fake rat reveals its true shape, the more strongly it smells of blood. By the time its legs begin to peel, Lyla lets out a little “eugh!” and winces. She clearly wants to turn away, but she can't. She was able to get her pipe free after Rocket's attack, but now the beast stands taller, past knee-height and a little past her waist. The muscles and bones in all four of its legs have unfurled into a sort of hyper-extension, and along with everything else, the thing barely resembles a rat anymore. At its current height, it'd be easy for the thing to sink its mandibles into someone's gut and reel them into its mouth. It's unsafe to approach from the front, and Rocket can't seem to get at its sides either; it whips its tail to defend itself on whichever side they step. “Fuck this,” Rocket groans, “can we ditch this guy too?” Lyla has to fend off the thing's mandibles with her pipe before she can reply. “Yes!” she barks. [[Next|Stage 6 (8)]]

You nod and head back the way you came. The entrance has been left open, so you duck outside right away, as Lyla and Rocket tangle the thing in combat. You quickly check the immediate area, to make sure the three of you aren't rushing out of the frying pan and into the fire. The condors seem alarmed by something, and they're making these grunting sounds to each other. You follow their gaze, only to catch glimpses of a vintner eclipsing the afternoon sun as it jumps its way over to the water tower. Rocket is next to escape the soundstage. “Yo $name,” they greet you, “how's it going out here?” Other than the vintner, it's fine. “That's...not very reassuring.” Rocket shines their light back through the door. Just as they do, the fake rat rears back, then leaps forward. Scraps of fur sway over its body as its muscles bulge from so much effort that they break the skin. A small yelp escapes Lyla as she jumps backward. She's still within range of both its tail and its mandibles, and she can't ward off both with her pipe. Instead, Lyla slips a foot under one of the legs of the broken chair, and pops it a little higher for her left hand to grasp for. She holds in front of her in addition to her pipe; her right hand keeps her pipe low to stop the mandibles, while the tail's spur embeds itself in the chair leg. As the thing finishes its landing, Lyla twists her body with the leftover momentum of her earlier moves, and kicks it in the side. As it buckles, its mandibles loosen enough for her to reclaim her pipe, and she scrambles away before it can regain its footing. She releases her grip on the chair leg so she can throw the door shut behind her, but she doesn't shut it hard enough. The fake rat flings itself through the crack Lyla left behind, only for the chair leg to get stuck. It's positioned sideways, and it won't fit through the door. The rat-thing has stabbed its tail so deeply into the wood that the spike points out the other side, but still it urges itself forward in a desperate attempt to eat the three of you. You'd love to just run away before it can break free, but then you risk running headlong into the vintner. [[Next|Stage 6 (9)]]

^^nice^^ Rocket seems to realize this as well. “The vintner's back, too,” they warn Lyla. “What do we do?” “Draw its attention to the side,” Lyla answers right away. She gestures to the right of the door. Without anything left to defend themself with, Rocket hesitates to take their mark. Still, they sidle to the side enough for Lyla to come in from the left and bash the thing where its left lung probably is. The thing's chittering suddenly clumps up into a hacking cough. Lyla wastes no time in stepping to the door and reaching for the chair leg with her left hand. She merely brushes the scrap wood with her hand, so she knows how low to duck to reenter the soundstage. “Get fucked!” Lyla bids the fake rat as she takes another swing at its left rear leg. With the thing reeling and overextended, its hind legs are taut and vulnerable. Her attack causes it to crumple to the ground. At first, she's elated, but something causes her to double back. “Oh, sorry!” Her attention seems to be on the hind leg she hit. The extreme elongation left it little protection from the blow, and she's hit the fibula so hard that she broke it. Lyla's apology doesn't register with the false rat, and it attempts to put weight on that leg again. When it does so, a squeal of pain rips through it as the broken bone rips through the skin. Lyla screams along with the thing, and turns her head so as not to look anymore. “I was only trying to trip it!” she insists. You don't think it'll matter much either way. The vintner has reached the soundstage at the eastern end of the road, and the fake rat's wailing has pulled its attention away from the condors. Instead, it now stares directly at you. There's no mistaking it; it's disregarded the fake rat, and it doesn't seem to have noticed Rocket or Lyla. The vintner's paws plink softly against the edge of the soundstage, and its body coils in preparation to pounce. Metal creaks beneath its legs as it hurls itself down the abandoned studio street. [[Retreat from the vintner.|Post-Production, Eastward]] [[Charge toward the vintner.|Post-Production, Westward]]

(if: $lyla_quest2 is true)[When you and Lyla faced the hummingblood together, you asked her what her (if: $choice_wwgd is false)[mom](else:)[dad] would have done. As you turn east and start fleeing the vintner, it strikes you as something her mom would do(if: $choice_wwgd is false)[ as well]. There's roads going north at both ends of this street, so you're sure you'll be able to double around that way. Either the vintner will stop to eat the rat-thing, or keep coming after you. Either way, you'll need Alyce's sort of speed.](else-if: $rocket_quest2 is true)[You know Rocket to be brave, agile, and a good team player. You're going to need all of that in spades, if you're going to survive this vintner. If it stays its current course, Rocket can either rush to your aid or Lyla's, whoever needs it more. And if you are split up, there are roads going north at both ends of this street, so you'll be able to meet somewhere by the burned city set.](else:)[Lyla and Rocket are both more than capable of handling themselves. If the three of you can fan out around the vintner again, you can overcome it again. Lyla's slipped back into the soundstage, but if the vintner stops to eat the rat-thing, that'll give her the chance to surprise it from in there. And if it doesn't, she'll still be able to slip out behind it as it continues after you or Rocket. There are roads leading north at both ends of this street, so you should be able to meet up with everyone near the burned city set no matter how split up you get.] When the vintner hurtles your way, you get out of its way. It lands on all fours with a soft thud and immediately starts running to close the remaining distance. You can see how Lyla's earlier advice tracks; there's no way of running or hiding from such an agile beast. Then again, she mentioned dodging and attacking as viable alternatives, and they don't seem especially possible at the moment either. Despite this, Rocket gives it a try anyway. They take off running westward, which takes the vintner's focus away from you. It turns its head to face them, then takes a swipe with its claw. It comes in high enough that they're able to throw themself into a slide along the ground to avoid it. All the nearby commotion agitates the wounded rat-thing. For awhile, it had stopped trying to move, but it's feeling the heat of this battle, and it's clacking its mandibles in protest. Soon, it manages to break free from its predicament somehow. Perhaps Lyla is the culprit, since she then goes on to shove the thing forward with her foot. That gives her the chance to dart out of the soundstage, and rejoin Rocket on the other side of the vintner. “Ready, Rocket?” “Ready, Lyla!” [[Next|Post-Production, Eastward (2)]]

(if: $lyla_quest2 is true)[When you and Lyla faced the hummingblood together, you asked her what her (if: $choice_wwgd is false)[mom](else:)[dad] would have done. As you turn east and move toward the vintner, it strikes you as something her dad would do(if: $choice_wwgd is true)[ as well]. There's roads going north at both ends of this street, so even if the group gets split up, you should be able to meet somewhere near the burned city set. Either you'll be able to book it around the corner, or get a cheap shot in on the vintner. Either way, you'll need Grizz's sort of speed.](else-if: $rocket_quest2 is true)[You and Rocket have teamed up to get Lyla out of a jam before, and you can do it again. She's maneuvered herself back into the soundstage, and she's going to have to get around the rat-thing and the vintner to escape. Rocket was the one to charge when it was the seed that threatened you, but this time, it's your turn. There are roads leading north on both ends of this street, so no matter how the three of you get split up, you should be able to meet somewhere in the vicinity of the burned city set.](else:)[Lyla has shown you that the best way around the vintner is toward it. To counter its pounce, you head back west as fast as you can. There are roads leading north at both ends of this street, so no matter how the vintner splits you up, the three of you should be able to reconvene somewhere near the burned city set. Lyla and Rocket are more than capable of defending themselves, and each other. If the three of you can surround the vintner again, you can overcome it again.] You disrupt the vintner's carefully gauged pounce by moving toward it as fast as you can. The sensation of this dangerous titan sailing overhead, of its shadow embracing you, seems to steal your breath as much as the exertion does. When the vintner lands, its back is to you, and vice versa. It shoots a glare your way, but it can't turn as easily as you can. It's got to run a bit forward before it can swing its body around. (if: $you_brought is 2)[You retrieve your crowbar from the cache of tools you brought for this trip. This isn't the use case you had in mind when you packed a crowbar, but you've been left with few other options.](else:)[ “$name!” Lyla calls out to you. Your steps have brought you past the door and into her view. You take one more step, and a crowbar comes hurtling out of the darkness of the soundstage. “Use this!” The crowbar clatters along the old-world pavement and catches the vintner's attention as it passes under its snout. When you catch the tool and wrap your fingers around it, you feel a little safer already. You can see what Lyla sees in her trusty pipe.] The vintner raises a paw to swipe at you, but you expect this by now. You smack the paw away with a horizontal swing of your crowbar. Even as the vintner reels away and cries out in pain, you can see the spot where you hit it grow slick and matted with moisture. The more that seeps from the vintner's skin, the more it reeks around here. Neither it nor the rat-thing have died, but together, they've certainly stunk up the road as if they have. Soon, the spot you struck glistens with a faint rainbow, like motor oil leaked into a rain puddle. You know it'll take more than one hit to stop this vintner, but it's getting harder and harder to focus as that horrible stench clouds the area. You want to hold your hand in front of your face to block the odor, but that's one less hand to swing the crowbar with, meaning less force. And the more it reeks, the more trouble you have coming up with any further ideas. Soon, the vintner has you in its sights while you're disoriented. There's no going around it from this range. Its right forepaw raises up, and it's all you can manage to hoist the crowbar into a blocking position. [[Next|Post-Production, Westward (2)]]

Just as the vintner raises a claw to slash you, the others shout out “Cross Collider!” in perfect unison, and deliver a simultaneous blow to its right hind leg. Lyla pirouettes around Rocket and spin-kicks; they dart forward, plant their right foot on the ground, and straighten their body to throw all their weight into a back kick with their left foot. With both its right feet no longer touching the ground, the vintner lurches to the side. It runs forward in an attempt to get its feet under itself, which cancels its attack but sends it hurtling bodily at you. But this allows you to once again take advantage of the vintner's long body and its inability to make quick, tight turns. You dart back west to try to rejoin the others. As you go, the vintner's attention becomes singly focused on you—so singly, in fact, that it seems to forget it's running. It stoops low and stops on its front paws to bite you, but its rear legs carry on its momentum and throw it into a clumsy roll. It tries to swipe at you from its back, but you're long gone by then, along with Lyla and Rocket. [[Next|Post-Production, North]]

“Ready, Lyla?” “Ready, Rocket!” Lyla springs out of the soundstage and off the back of the wounded rat-thing. As she goes, she and Rocket shout “Cross Collider!” in unison. From their vantage point, the two of them are able to strike at the vintner's right rear leg simultaneously. Lyla lands with a twirl on one foot and spin-kicks the vintner with the other; at the same time, Rocket sprints into position, then plants their right foot on the ground and straightens their body to put all their momentum into a forward kick with their left foot. Their combined effort causes the vintner's back leg to buckle, and it had already raised its paw on that same side. With no support on its right, it staggers to the side, and runs forward in an effort to right itself. You take the chance to duck under its formidable physique to rejoin the others. The vintner tries to track you with its head as it goes, and turns its upper body when it goes too far forward. These opposing forces throw its body into a roll, and it lays on its back and flails its claws after you. “Gotcha!” Lyla asserts. She darts forward and swings her pipe left, then right again, across the vintner's exposed chin. When she weaves back again, Rocket chops a hand at the chair leg that's kept the rat-thing at bay. This doesn't dislodge the wood from its tail, but it does tip the wood at such an angle that Rocket can then shove the beast forward with their foot, toward the vintner. “Vintner!” They call out. “Lemme introduce you to...whatever this is!” So that's the plan. The three of you, now reunited and unbothered, head east and then north. Whatever creature does or doesn't walk away is a moot point, because you're getting out of there. [[Next|Post-Production, North]]

You're with Lyla and Rocket on the northern end of the pre-apocalyptic studio once more. None of you took any chances; you hurried along that road as fast as you could. As you pass by the next left, you can see the condor take off from the water tower, and Lyla relaxes her speed. Rocket doesn't notice at first. They careen forward a few steps, then realize, then skid to a stop. “What?” they mumble. “Are you okay?” “Yeah,” Lyla gasps. Other than being out of breath, she indeed seems fine. “I think...it's safe.” Lyla stops entirely to suck in a few breaths, then explains. “Condors are scavengers. Betcha that squeakazoid got a lucky shot in, and the condor's gonna finish off the winner and eat them both.” It's a grisly thought, a fight to the death where the winner is immediately ambushed by another opponent. But Rocket can't get past the word— “Squeakazoid...?” Lyla shrugs. “Well,” she sighs, “they're really called mimics...that's what most people call them. But that's...that's a weird critter for such a plain name, isn't it?” You nod. That thing was bursting apart like a beast from a horror movie. What a terrible fit for the lighthearted romp you were playing out on that set. This gets a laugh from Rocket, but Lyla gasps and starts to pat herself down erratically. “Oh shit,” she groans, “did anyone get that letter?” “What letter?” Rocket asks, but they seem to realize what letter right afterward. “Oh...oh. Uh...” Their lips peel away from a deep grimace. “...no.” Neither did you. Lyla sighs, looks back toward the soundstage, and hangs her head in defeat. “Fuck. Did one of you remember the address, at least?” (link: "Dependence Avenue 8E. Washington, BC.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (goto: "Post-Production, North (2)") }] (link: "Independence Avenue SE. Washington, DC.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (goto: "Post-Production, North (2)") }] (link: "Interdependence Avenue 5E. Warshington, DC.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 3) (goto: "Post-Production, North (2)") }]

(if: $choice_temp is 2)[Lyla heaves a sigh of relief as you rattle off the address from the old-world mail. “Oh, thank goodness, $name,” she coos. “It would've been nice to have, maybe make a little display for it. But I've got what I need, now let's get out of here before—”](else:)[You...sorta remember it. You never did read the numbers, and the name was...something-pendence. Rocket snaps their fingers. “Independence,” they exclaim, “that was it, that and DC.” “Okay!” Lyla chirps. That's apparently enough for her. “Let's get out of here before—”] Lyla can't finish that thought before a terrible cry bursts out from somewhere to the south. It sounds like one of the condors is terribly distressed; its dull utterances from before have been sharpened into a scream. At the same time, it sounds like there's a car accident or something—glass shattering, metal twisting... Break time is over. (set: $storymark to it + 1) Lyla and Rocket immediately start running back west, and you turn your head away from the sound to follow them. When you emerge near the burned city set, you take an opportunity to look to the south, where one of the condors has been protecting an egg laid in an electric ladder. Now, though, it's a mess. The ladder, the condor, and the egg all lay overturned on the pavement. A large beast has come from the south, and it's come for the condor. Its skin bears a myriad of tears similar to the rat-mimic, as well as a mottling of scars and calluses. Golden fur grows in meager patches and struggles to shine beneath untold layers of grime and caked blood. Its snout lifts from the condor's corpse— You feel yourself pulled away before you can look any more. Lyla's got a hold of you, and she's doing her best to console both you and Rocket, who has clearly seen the same thing you have. “Mother of shit,” she whispers. As usual, her words don't seem to be helping Rocket, but then again, her words come so sharply and breathlessly that she seems to need some help herself. “That's a corpse mutt.” “What—” [[Next|A Corpse Mutt!]]

Rocket can't even ask what to do about the corpse mutt before Lyla continues. “Don't make too much noise, don't look at it, don't fuck with it at all.” She lowers herself into a crouch and sneaks into the burned city, then gestures for you and Rocket to follow. As Rocket goes, they turn their head to look both ways before crossing the street, but Lyla lets out a wordless little bark and holds up a finger. “Eyes on me!” “Why?” Rocket asks. This time, their question's small enough to fit between Lyla's panicked hissings. “If you lock eyes...it'll chase you until you're dead.” Lyla chuckles and mumbles, “Fortunately, I'm an expert at not looking things in the eye.” That doesn't seem to be directed at Rocket, or at you, but it's a small relief to hear some of Lyla's usual jocularity return to her. It seems to relieve her too; she still hunches down as she moves through the city set, but her arms swing more freely, betraying her relaxation. Rocket stands second in line as the three of you snake down the street, past the charred ruins. Their arms have that tension, and their hands are balled into fists. It seems Lyla's streak of “not helping” continues. Finally, you reach a point where the four soundstages also formed into a line loom to your right, and the overgrown security gate awaits ahead.(if: $rocket_quest1 is true and $choice_heron is true)[Atop the gate, however, sits yet another obstacle, a familiar bird with long features and blue plumage, which croons curiously as you approach. “You again?” Rocket hisses. As they charge the heron, realization seems to set in for the bird. It lets out a startled cry and immediately flees the scene. Its push crumbles the booth beneath it, and it struggles to flap its wings enough to get lift. In combination, the factors cause the steel blue heron to lurch downward, and it needs a second try to successfully fly away. “That's what I thought,” Rocket huffs as the three of you approach the western gate.](else:)[It's a pretty straight shot, but a group of plump birds like the one you saw earlier now sits along the security bar. They chatter loudly with one another, so loudly that Lyla winces. “Shut up!” she hisses at the birds. At first, she tries to wave at them to scare them off; when that doesn't work, she scoops up some rocks and starts to hurl them at the security booth. This startles them enough that they abandon their ivied perch and set off for somewhere less hectic. “Good,” Lyla huffs as the three of you approach the western gate.] You worry about all that birdsong being a problem, and steal a glance behind you. The road is empty, thank goodness. “You two okay?” Lyla asks. “Okay?” Rocket repeats. “Okay? A corpse mutt—!” [[Next|We're Getting Outta Here!]]

“Rocket.” Lyla slowly eases them into her embrace, and simply stands there for a moment. Then she leans back and says, “Hey. I think we're in the clear. We're gonna go around the wall, and we're gonna be in the graveyard again soon.” She has her arm around Rocket's shoulders, and she guides them around the decrepit security gate. “And then we'll be back in the car. Okay...?” “Okay,” Rocket replies weakly. The group wanders back up the street in silence, then when you reach the cemetery gate, they speak up again. “See, that was helpful. Thanks, Lyla.” “Of course...!” As the three of you reenter the cemetery, Lyla adds, “I have to be upfront about the dangers...but you're my friend and I don't want to scare you. It's a tough balance, because it is scary out here.” “Then why aren't you scared?” Lyla lets out a combination of a laugh and a scoff. “Are you kidding?” she asks. “I'm terrified! I try to crack jokes because it gives me something to think about besides 'we're all gonna die'! And I'm...sorta the leader, so I have to keep my act together and lead no matter how scared I get...!” She stops and clutches at her head. “Like right now...there's a snake in that crypt up ahead and I can't remember which door it was in, and I don't wanna fuck it up and get you bit! Which makes me anxious, which makes it harder to think!” Rocket raises their hands defensively. “Alright, alright,” they say as they gesture Lyla to continue, “I got the picture. Let's get us outta here so none of us have to be scared, how's that?” “Well, yeah, that's the plan.” Lyla plays it off dismissively, but not for long; she breaks out into a subdued laugh soon after. As the laughs fade and Lyla deliberates, you try to think back as well; maybe you can jog her memory. There were three doors, and... (link: "The snake was in the door closest to you now.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (goto: "Watch Out for Snakes!") }] (link: "The snake was in the middle door.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (goto: "Watch Out for Snakes!") }] (link: "The snake was in the door furthest from you now.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 3) (goto: "Watch Out for Snakes!") }]

“Ah,” Lyla says, “door number $choice_temp, huh? You sure?” It doesn't matter, though. “It's here!” Rocket exclaims, peeking through the nearest gate. “But you're right, I remember there being skeletons too. Did it move...?” “That, or there's more than one.” Lyla shrugs. “Guess we'll just have to watch out for snakes!” Unlike the rushing you've been doing to escape the studio, this means you'll have to walk slowly, so as not to agitate the snake. Lyla demonstrates this from the lead, and Rocket bunches up close to her as they follow. “Why did the corpse mutt show up?” Rocket asks as the trek continues, back along the overgrown path. “Probably the others,” Lyla hypothesizes. “Between the vintner and the mimic, it probably smelled like carrion over there...and when a corpse mutt smells a meal, it comes running and attacks anything it sees.” “Huh.” Rocket rubs their chin as they walk. They go to speak, but they're distracted by the second gate. The two skeletons are huddled together inside; seems like this was the one where you saw the snake before, because you recall it emerging from the bones. Nothing emerges from them this time, though, so Rocket proceeds. “I know, they're crazy food-hogs...I didn't realize it would pick up on the other animals' smells like that, though.” Lyla nods. There's one more gate to pass, and no snakes here, so the three of you saunter on by. “They're so dangerous...I'm gonna have to file a sighting report when we get home.” For now, though, it's time to head north, away from the outer wall of the studio and toward the car. “It probably won't get to Cross Town from here, or even a major road. But it's still important to note a corpse mutt is here.” (link: "Ask more about corpse mutts.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (goto: "Mad About Mutts") }] (link: "Ask more about the report.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (goto: "Mad About Mutts") }]

(if: $choice_temp is 1)[As the three of you retrace the path you plowed through the tall grass earlier, your curiosity grows concerning the corpse mutt. This is your first time encountering one in the wild like this, but Lyla seems to be a natural. When you call her a natural, she turns to look over her shoulder just to grin at you. “Thanks, $name,” Lyla chirps. “Though you've gotta know what you're doing when it comes to corpse mutts. They don't feel pain, they don't get tired, and they never give up a chase.” “Damn,” Rocket mutters. “I knew they were bad news, but...how do you stop a thing like that...?” Lyla sputters out a laugh. “You don't—! Not unless you can blow them up...! If we had been any closer, I would've taken cover in the nearest stage. Don't give a fuck what's inside, it's gotta be better than a corpse mutt.” Rocket shakes their head. “So that's it, then? You just try to never cross paths with a corpse mutt?” “Pretty much.” Fortunately, no corpse mutt comes to greet you at the car, nor any other creature. “Remember what I told you, okay?” Lyla pops open the driver's side door, just long enough to pop the trunk. “Don't be too loud, don't look into its eyes, just get the fuck outta there.” “Should I write that down?” Rocket asks as everyone returns their gear to the trunk. “Or is that gonna get you in trouble with your mom?” “What,” Lyla responds, already starting to laugh, “because I'm getting you swearing too? Nah...she only got on my ass about it when I was little because she didn't want my vocabulary stunted.” You and Rocket laugh with her, but she shakes her head. “Seriously! I've heard Dad use 'fuck' in just about every part of speech and to mean so many different things...Mom was legit worried that I'd figure out how to do that and not bother learning new words anymore!”](else:)[As the three of you retrace the path you plowed through the tall grass earlier, your curiosity grows concerning the corpse mutt sighting report. You've never been through the process, but it sounds like Lyla has, so you ask her what it's like. “What?” she asks. You give her a moment to process, and then she gasps, “Oh, the sighting report! Just about what you'd expect, really.” A gentle breeze urges the grass stalks to wave goodbye to you. “Who you are, when and where you saw it, and you can give extra notes and contact info if you want.” Lyla's ears wave right back in the wind. “There's a hotline to call too, if that's more your speed.” You ask Lyla a follow-up question—what happens next? “Uh...” Lyla shrugs a little. “...well, first they go to the ERS. But my sightings are so far out, usually my tips end up in a file cabinet.” She chuckles as she adds, “And that's it. But a corpse mutt sighting closer to town would be used to inform evacuation efforts and stuff like that.” “Evacuation?” Rocket repeats. “But what about fighting?” “No way.” Lyla pauses as the three of you reach her car. After all this talk of corpse mutts, you look every which way once you get there, but there's no sign of danger about. “You'd have to blow the fucker up. And if it's too close to Cross Town, you're gonna do just as much damage as the corpse mutt. Might as well hide and hope it goes away.” Lyla's popped the trunk and started to load her gear inside, so you and Rocket follow suit. “That's really all there is to do about them, huh?” Rocket stops and glares to the south, toward the studio, toward the corpse mutt. “That's...terrifying. We styled on all those other mutants, but...” Rocket trails off, so you ask here about that “Cross Collider” thing. Is that what they call style? “Actually, yeah!” “We learned it from Nicole,” Lyla adds. “Her friends would do cool shit and try to yell out cool names for it...they didn't like fighting, but this helped them, apparently.” She shrugs and swings the trunk shut, now that it's been refilled. “Nicole always said she can't vouch for it, though...because fighting is her first and only love.”] As the three of you laugh and talk and pile into the car together, a swell of pride fills your heart. It hits you as you catch a glimpse of the sign to the north—Hollywood. This expedition into the ruins of the pre-apocalyptic world was a success. You didn't recover the documentation Lyla was looking for, but you found it, and you got what you needed off of it. Independence Ave SE, Washington, DC. No doubt it falls upon Lyla from here to somehow track the location of this address. She's got about a thousand years of dust and decay to scour through, so she's got her work cut out for her before the trek truly pays off. For now, though— “Let's go to the observatory and celebrate!” Lyla cheers. [[Next|Griffith Observatory]]

You watch as the ruined city gives way to ruined forest. Lyla is taking you and Rocket up into the hills north of Old Hollywood, where she's promised some sort of scenic retreat where the three of you can have a picnic. If this is the scene you get to look forward to, though—a grove of sickly-looking trees whose branches droop under their own weight—you hope the picnic is better. “Damn,” Rocket groans as they loom between Lyla's seat and yours, with a hand on each. “Guess there's no antidote here like there was at the cemetery, huh...?” Lyla giggles loudly. She won't take her hands off the wheel to stifle herself with, so she just sort of shrugs and bites her lip. You're not sure what the deal with that reaction is, but when you ask, she shakes her head. “I mean, it's no Convoy Park,” she replies. “But it's a lot nicer than the studio grounds...especially at the top.” You're not sure what she means, but you're almost there, so you wait and see. She could be referring to the old-world building that still sits atop the cliff nearby, a wide building topped with multiple domes. This must be the observatory Lyla spoke about; the clearing it inhabits would indeed make a stellar vantage point. Sure enough, the pre-apocalyptic road loops to the south, to invite the three of you to approach. Before the building stands a small park. Walkways form a rectangular grid around a broken monument of some sort. Each quadrant is filled by a healthy bed of grass, and the eastern boundary is marked by a wall of sunflowers. Wait—this grass is broad and vibrantly green, as opposed to the drab vegetation outside the four meager plots. “There is Antidote here!” Rocket gasps. “Okay, that makes it a lot nicer.” Lyla pulls up to the curb nearest the park, and can barely stop the car before Rocket's out the door. You roll down your window so you can hear them better as they ask, “Is this where we're having the picnic?” “Uh-huh!” Lyla affirms. [[Next|Griffith Observatory (2)]]

Lyla follows Rocket out of the car, moving just as quickly and eagerly as them. By the time you rejoin her, she's at the trunk, staring up at the sunny sky. There's not a cloud in sight, which seems to be the cause of her worried face. It's not too much longer before an idea strikes her, though. “Oh, $name, do us a solid, will ya? There's an umbrella in the mesh behind the passenger seat. Could you bring it with you?” You agree to Lyla's request. You're closest to the umbrella anyway, and by opening the rear right door of the car, you find the handle sticking out of the basket. You stretch the black mesh to draw the umbrella, and find it's attached to a large canopy of purest purple, while its other end bears some kind of spike. Reflective tape has been applied to the canopy where it meets the ribs, which will form an asterisk of shiny yellow when the umbrella is opened. The umbrella's big enough for two people, sure, but three? Much less the large cooler Lyla has unburied from one corner of the trunk—surely, that will need shade as well. Fortunately, the cooler has a retractable handle on one end, a pair of wheels on the other, and an easy path ahead of it, as she guides it toward the central monument. (if: $you_brought is 1)[You gather the provisions you've packed as well, and balance the umbrella across the top.] You meet Lyla and Rocket in the center ring of the walkways. Both of them marvel at the monument grounds; Rocket does so through their camera viewfinder, of course. Six humanoid figures stand solemnly along the perimeter of the concrete sculpture, their finer details lost to the centuries. The ones facing north have been snapped off, as has the very top of the spire. Like much of the buildings around here, including the observatory itself, any color the monument may have once had has faded to white. Soon, it's easy to guess one possible source of some of those broken features. Lyla pulls on the cuffs of her gloves to tighten them, then she moves to the north face of the monument and suddenly begins to climb it. [[Next|Griffith Observatory (3)]]

You follow Rocket to gawk at Lyla. There's nothing else to do; she's simply taken to the old-world concrete too quickly and enthusiastically to stop her or support her or do much else. Lyla's tail beats furiously within her dress as she pulls herself along a series of large nail-like footholds driven into the concrete. The northernmost figure of the sculpture has crumbled away around the head and shoulders. This gives Lyla a place to sit down about halfway up the total height of the monument and stare back down at you. “Oh, shit!” she says to herself. Then she hollers down to you and Rocket, “Hey! Can someone throw me the umbrella? Please?” Lyla's climbed up about three or four times her height. Fortunately, the heft added to the umbrella's base actually makes it sort of easier to throw; otherwise, it'd be too floaty. With a great effort, you hurl the umbrella upward, and Lyla's able to catch it around the middle. “Thanks, $name!” she calls to you. Then she climbs around the tops of the old-world figures, and finds one to drive her umbrella into with a mighty shout. Their folded hands give her a great spot to open her sunshade and extend the shadow of the monument. The midafternoon sun beats down upon Lyla's back as she climbs down the monument. Soon, though, she gets to enjoy the benefit of her work too. The extra shade gives her room to sit with you and Rocket in a triangle instead of a line. Before everyone can sit, though, you've got to unpack your setup. You and Rocket unfold some wide blankets, while Lyla sets out the food. She's got a platter of meats and cheeses, a few sleeves of crackers, a covered bowl of grapes and berries, and a selection of bottled water and fruit juices. (if: $you_brought is 1)[You've got a vegetable platter that will go well with this.] “Okay,” Lyla says once everyone's made their plates and taken their seats. “Can I tell you two something cool about this place?” You and Rocket both agree. “I brought the Antidote here.” [[Next|Griffith Observatory (4)]]

That's pretty cool; you never knew Lyla's handled the Antidote to Agent Venom before. And what's more, she's planted it here, and already the grass is reborn...? “Yeah,” she says while you and Rocket eat and listen. “Usually people take it in large deposits...usually you get it in a candy shell or something like that, something that'll break down easy once you get it in place. My auntie Anna got me some raw powder, and I brought it here so I could plant some grass and flowers in it.” Rocket seems impressed, but they tap their juice bottle impatiently against the ground as they chew, eager to respond. “Way out here?” they ask when their mouth is no longer full. Lyla nods. “That's the way to do it...far, but not too far!” She's got a slice of white cheese pinched between two crackers, and she finishes that off before she elaborates. “So you know how Agent Venom works, right? It gets into the ecosystem...seeps into the groundwater, accumulates in plants and insects and animals as they go about the food chain, all that shit. Then they get twisted into dangerous, aggressive creatures.” “And the Antidote?” Lyla nods. “The Antidote...it accumulates the same way, and its job is to stop Venom from twisting you. So we've got both Venom and Antidote in our bodies right now.” That's fascinating and all, but Lyla's explanation still isn't touching on why this location is such an ideal place for Antidote. “Because it's gotta start somewhere,” she answers. “Auntie Anna didn't get me much, but I can start the grass and the flowers in peace here, away from the sort of shit we saw in the city.” Lyla pauses to look toward the sunflowers. “Bugs can come for the plants, and the bats can eat the bugs. Oh—” Lyla's gaze then turns suddenly to the south, toward the main building. “Speaking of, don't go inside the observatory, okay? That's where the bats live. I went in there once trying to check out where they filmed Teen-age Crime Wave and...” Rocket waves their hands in front of them, even as Lyla starts to gesture in some swoop attacks. “Hey, no problem there. I've had enough of going inside buildings for one day. I'd rather stay out here.” [[Next|Griffith Observatory (5)]]

Lyla laughs and pauses to enjoy her food and drink. Her body rocks back as she basks in the joy, and her hair catches enough sun that her black hair takes on a faint brown shimmer. You and Rocket also have more than enough space to sprawl out and enjoy the serenity of the hilltop garden. It's easy to see all possible approaches to the area, and they're all clear of danger—a welcome reprieve from all the critters that have surprised you so far. And if Lyla's newborn garden requres such serenity, it's a wonder she was able to find it here, surrounded by old-world urban sprawl. (set: $storymark to it + 1) “So what's next?” Rocket asks. They've finished their juice and they're wrenching open a bottle of water as they speak. “So you put down Antidote, it goes through the grass and the bugs and the bats...” They pause briefly as the seal on the water bottle comes apart with a snap. “...but then what? How does it actually do the Antidote-ing?” Lyla sweeps an arm to the rest of the lawn. “Well, it's sorta like this park,” she answers. “As anything is born and grows—a human, a bat, a bug, whatever—it relies on its genes to tell it how to grow. If Agent Venom doesn't kill you, it alters you down to those genes so you grow up different...bigger, stronger, angrier, usually. The pre-apocs were starting to break genes down even further into genomes...or something.” Lyla shrugs as a frown overtakes her face. “I'm sorry. This is about where Agent Venom cuts them off, you know...?” “Ah, I see.” Rocket tosses a handful of berries into their mouth, and soon washes them down with water. “What about crosses?” “I dunno, what about 'em?” Rocket hesitates. You continue to enjoy your meal even as they go about choosing their words carefully. “What I've heard...is that Venom and Antidote are why...crosses...happen.” They keep eyeing Lyla, but she still seems sunny and patient as ever. “Apparently Antidote makes animals back into animals and humans into animals too.” Lyla shrugs as she chews. “Nrff,” she responds, her mouth still a little too full. She stops to finish before she tries again. “Nah, I don't think so. I'm sure there's a connection between Venom, Antidote, and crosses...I mean, I only found one pre-apoc tale about a 'bat boy', but he didn't look a thing like the bat boy in my class—remember Malcolm, Rocket?” “Oh yeah, Malcolm! You know he's got a taxi business in River City now?” “No shit...!” Nostalgia overcomes Lyla's eyes as she turns to face the northwest, toward home. “Good for him.” [[Next|Griffith Observatory (6)]]

“Anyway,” Lyla continues after a sip of water, “I don't think crosses are quite so simple as that, or we'd all be crosses, right? There's no pattern as to who burgeons—even old folks have done it.” You shrug. You certainly don't know why some people grow animal features and some don't. It could be a smorgasbord of factors, right down to the individual level. And even if you did know such minute details somehow, it would barely be actionable, much less controllable. “Exactly,” Rocket agrees. “And I don't need to know that much. All I know is, it happened to you,” they say, gesturing to Lyla, “it could've happened to me, and most of what difference that makes isn't even from you or me, it's all out of that Asylum shit. When you're being normal about it, having burgeoned is...I mean, it's cool and all, but then I get so used to it that it's like I don't even notice.” Lyla scoffs. “Easy for you to say,” she quips, “when you don't have to shop for clothes that accommodate tails!” Her tone is still playful, though, and she giggles into a bite of strawberry. “I think you're right, though. Clothes for crosses only just started taking off when we were in school...maybe if it weren't for the Asylum, there'd be a lot more jeans with tails by now.” (if: $lyla_quest2 is true)[ She doesn't say much more, but Lyla doesn't have to. Most of what she'd elaborate upon here would be covered in that book of hers, and its glimpse into Alyce's life before she and fellow animalfolk had proper human rights. It certainly wouldn't be the sort of vibe to bring to such a happy, laid-back picnic, either. You're not about to make her walk you through it again, not when she's trying so hard to share good times with you.] Rocket finishes the last of their food, then stretches their limbs out upon the blanket as far as they'll go. “Ah,” they moan, “that was wonderful. Thanks for bringing us up here, Lyla. And thanks for coming with us too, $name.” [[Next|Griffith Observatory (7)]]

“Yeah!” Lyla agrees. (if: $lyla_score > 1 and $rocket_score > 1 and $dorothy_score > 1 and (($lyla_score is $dorothy_score) or ($lyla_score is $rocket_score) or ($dorothy_score is $rocket_score)))[“You've caught on real quick, $name...I think you and Rocket could've reached this place without my help, if you'd known where to look.”](else-if: $dorothy_score > $lyla_score and $dorothy_score > $rocket_score)[“And you know, $name, you remind me of Dorothy in some ways...so if you're having fun, I bet she'd have fun too!”](else-if: $rocket_score > $lyla_score and $rocket_score > $dorothy_score)[“I'm glad I have someone here who can keep up with Rocket...and together, the three of us make so much enthusiasm, it really helps keep the creepy feelings away, you know what I mean?”](else:)[“You remind me of me when I started exploring, $name. Your sort of curiosity and care will get you real far out here, trust me...!”] Before you can reciprocate any of these good tidings, Rocket springs to their feet. “But we gotta go,” they insist. “If we sunbathe here all day, we won't have time to stop if we see something cool on the way back, will we?” Lyla also returns to her feet, but much more slowly, and with an exaggerated groan. “Oh, alright,” she says, parlaying her noise into the “oh”. She's brought a separate bag to collect any trash left over from the picnic. When her blanket is mostly clear, she grabs two corners of it and swats it through the air. Loose berries and breadcrumbs come flying off of it; you duck away from the spray and ask Lyla what she's doing. “Sorry, $name,” she begins, “did I get you?” She didn't. “Oh, good. Cross Town food is all rich in Antidote, so I try to share.” Now that she mentions it, she didn't fling any meat out here. That's probably one thing she can't share, on account of the corpse mutts—one species of animal she wouldn't want intruding on a fledgling garden. She didn't toss any cheese either, but the cheese had been so popular that there was none left by this point. Between what you've eaten and what you've left for the animals, there isn't much left to pack up and take back with you. The three of you have no trouble leaving the park just as it was when you got here, save perhaps for a small indent in the grass where you laid cradled against the healing Earth. Rocket takes a turn climbing the old-world monument to retrieve the umbrella Lyla stuck up there for shade. You're sure that's going to leave a mark on the monument, but Rocket already has a solution for that. “Hey Lyla,” they say as their feet touch solid ground once more, “you ever think about getting a new statue up here?” Lyla begins nodding enthusiastically. “Oh, sure!” she confirms. “One of Mom and Dad...I think they deserve it.” [[Next|Old Hollywood Outskirts]]

You're on your way out of Old Hollywood. Lyla has merged onto a road she calls “the 5”, and this one's actually still in use. For the first time since you left Cross Town limits, there's other cars on the road...well, two, one going your way and one in the other lanes. But it's still a noteworthy step up from zero. The southbound vehicle is gone before you can observe it too closely. The one behind you is some sort of large truck, but you can't read the sides from this angle. “Oh!” Lyla gasps. “I better let them know.” She flips open a panel on the center console, and a small radio pops out. It hangs from the dashboard by a very curly cord, waiting for Lyla to scoop it up in one hand. She then passes the cord to her left hand and holds it there beneath her usual driving stance, while her right hand tunes the radio to her desired volume and frequency. “Attention, all cars in the Old Hollywood vicinty,” Lyla announces into the radio. “This is Lyla Brangwyn, CTPL, calling all cars. Please be aware, there's a corpse mutt in the city ruins. Repeat, corpse mutt sighted in city ruins.” “Ten-four,” a voice replies through the radio. “This one isn't scaring you so bad, eh, Lyla?” The transmission cuts off in the middle of them laughing. Lyla goes to reply, but she seems overcome by emotion. She can't bring herself to squeeze the button, not until she sghs and shakes her head. “First of all, Enrique, Channel 1 is for vital communications only. Second, as long as you stick to Route 5, you should be fine. Just keep an eye to the southwest.” “I heard you loud and clear. Now how about we take this to another channel?” “Lyla out.” With that, she returns the radio to its spot upon the dashboard. “Yeah, run along and play, foolish—” Enrique's voice dips out beyond that, as Lyla cranks the volume to its minimum. “Just my luck,” she grumbles as she returns her right hand to proper driving position. You almost don't dare ask who that was on the radio just now. When you do, Lyla grimaces slightly. “His name's Enrique,” she explains. “He drives the fruit truck back there. We drive by each other every so often...but he's always so pushy. Says I should be driving for business, for things people need, like food.” [[Next|Old Hollywood Outskirts (2)]]

Rocket scoffs. “Whatever,” they say. “He already drives food. People need enrichment, too...they're not gonna carry on if things are too bleak.” Lyla shrugs off the reassurance. “Yeah, I guess...I mean, I'd be willing to haul Antidote...I've got room for that and movies. It's not easy to get a hold of, though, especially when you're so easy to underestimate as I am.” What about the pictures Rocket took of the park? You suggest that, should anyone doubt Lyla, she's got proof that she can do it. Lyla hums her way through her consternation. “Mm...maybe. Rocket, when you develop those pictures, could you give me a copy?” Rocket answers with a short laugh. “Of course—I was gonna already!” They pat the camera resting in their vest pocket as they add, “I brought three rolls of film. There should be enough pictures for all of us to keep!” The studio and the park took up an entire roll on their own, judging by the two used ones that Rocket has stored in the cup holder. Lyla seems pleased to hear that, but she doesn't truly relax, not with the truck still on her tail. You three and Enrique are the only ones around. The old highway has been reinforced by new construction; it bears the architectural landmarks of pre-apocalyptic methodology, but it's also got a grid of floodlights that keep the road and the surrounding area all well-lit. Or, they will, when the sun does set. As Lyla guides the car along, she finally spots her chance. There's an exit to the right, between two light towers, where she can veer off the road and hurtle onto a pre-apocalyptic route. As she approaches it, you attempt to strike up a new conversation with the others. [[Next|On the Road]]

Dorothy will love it, you're sure of it. And you love the idea too; it seems like a very chill way to cap off a trip so fraught with ups and downs. Already, your attention drifts out the window, toward Cross Town itself. It's an odd relief to see the lights are on in the houses and shops, and out here in the streets as well. After the overwhelming emptiness of the pre-apocalyptic ruins, where every slightest motion was a reason to be afraid, it's so utterly relaxing in comparison to be able to watch life thrumming along to its usual rhythm. Now that the sun has set, folks are going about their last orders of business. The people who have had any need to go out today, for an appointment or groceries or whatever else, have likely already done so. A swell of commuter traffic here, a throng of teenage friends there on the sidewalk, all carefully ensconced by layers of buildings and bountiful forests and a generous helping of Antidote. After a day in the wastes, it's hard not to see Cross Town differently. It's one thing to hear tell of the barren lands and the dangers that lurk them, but to go and see them, and then come home to such comforts as fast food and streetlights...it's a shock on par with a dip into cold water on a hot day. When that shock wears off, the gratitude still remains, even as your mind drifts back to the subject of food. Just what are you gonna bring...? (link: "Something with meat.")[{ (set: $choice_food to 1) (goto: "The End of the Day") }] (link: "Something with vegetables.")[{ (set: $choice_food to 2) (goto: "The End of the Day") }] (link: "Something for dessert.")[{ (set: $choice_food to 3) (goto: "The End of the Day") }]

Lyla returns to Convoy Park and drops everyone off. It'd be tempting to return here after everyone's prepared for dinner, but not after your trip. You're looking forward to Lyla's library—it'll be a place where you can relax, even more so than the park. (if: $lyla_score > 2 and $dorothy_score > 2 and $rocket_score > 2 and (($lyla_score is $dorothy_score) or ($lyla_score is $rocket_score) or ($dorothy_score is $rocket_score)))[After saying your goodbyes, you head for home. It doesn't take long for you to get there, get unpacked, and get all freshened up after your trip. And as luck would have it, there's a food truck on the outskirts of Convoy Park, selling huge burritos and churros beneath the veneer of a thick smoky smell. Their wares come wrapped in thick foil to protect you and keep the contents warm—and you'll need that sort of help, if you'll be waiting for Dorothy to come in from River City. You get yourself a (if: $choice_food is 1)[chicken burrito](else-if: $choice_food is 2)[bean burrito](else:)[churro] and continue on your way. In fact, your itinerary is so efficient that you're the first one to make it to the library. At this hour, with no movie night and no other such event going on, there's no one here at this hour, except for Iain and a single visitor. Whoever they are, they're wearing a greasy black animal pelt for a cloak, one draped over their head and shoulders and arms and most of their legs. “I told you,” Iain tells them again as you open one of the double-doors of the entrance, “we're closing for the night.” “And I told you,” the mystery customer replies, “close everything you want. I'll be fine in here.” “But you can't—” Iain sees you coming, and his shoulders droop. “Oh, hey, you're Lyla's friend $name, right? Good...maybe you can help me out with this weirdo.” As you approach Iain, you get a better look at the “weirdo” he's so perturbed by. Or, rather, you try to, but the black pelt they wear hangs down over much of their face. You're not sure how they even get around with that thing over their eyes, but they track your movement into the building with their head all the same. “I came to the library to read books. What's weird about that, you nerd?” The rest of their outfit is some bizarre slapdash of brown belts and patches of leather, a patchwork of hole coverings so erratic that you see only glimpses of the original black fabric beneath—even their gloves and boots are like this. [[Next|The ??? Ending]]](else-if: $dorothy_score > $lyla_score and $dorothy_score > $rocket_score)[After you say your goodbye-for-nows and stop in at home, you're ready to grab a bite to eat and settle in to relax in the comforts of civilization with Lyla and her friends. But...where will you get (if: $choice_food is 1)[a hearty meal](else-if: $choice_food is 2)[good vegetarian cooking](else:)[a delicious treat] at this hour? Your search brings you to a restaurant on the outskirts of town. While the katakana of the vertical sign aren't totally clear to you in the darkness, the big neon OPEN sign in the window is. The eye-catching array of red, blue, and green mingles cheerfully on the ears and tail of a familiar figure, as the whites of their calico pattern host a rainbow ball. You hail Dorothy, and she jumps a little. It doesn't seem like she's expecting to be noticed. “OMG!” she gasps, clutching for her heart. “I'm sorry, I had, like, no idea you were there!” Once she calms down a little, she straightens her outfit and her posture. Dorothy's combined a silk jacket of midnight blue with a turquoise pencil dress. Her tail pokes out the back of the outfit, and sports a frilly pink cuff at the end. The way she's shaped her outfit gives her ballroom dress vibes, though she's substituted a flowy dress for a long trail of fabric dangling from her tail cuff. Dorothy wasn't out to dance—she was here on a mission, and so zoned in to that mission that your greeting startled her. You apologize for the scare. “What-ever,” she responds. It sounds dismissive, but then Dorothy turns her head to you with a smile, and beckons you to walk with her. “Like, you're totally $name, right? We met at movie night.” That, you did. It's nice to run into her again here, which brings you to a question. What is she doing here, anyway? “Buying a car—not!” [[Next|The Dorothy Ending]]](else-if: $rocket_score > $lyla_score and $rocket_score > $dorothy_score)[After you say your goodbye-for-nows and stop in at home, you're ready to grab a bite to eat and settle in to relax in the comforts of civilization with Lyla and her friends. But...where will you get (if: $choice_food is 1)[a hearty meal](else-if: $choice_food is 2)[good vegetarian cooking](else:)[a delicious treat] at this hour? Your search takes you to Get 'n' Get, a drive-in diner on the outskirts of Cross Town. It's pretty simple—you take up a parking spot, waitstaff comes out to take your order, then they bring it out to you when it's done. It's mostly deep-fried finger foods, though it seems they also sell ice cream cones. There's nowhere to sit inside or anywhere on restaurant grounds. The idea is to take your food and get, which works fine for you. It also works out well for Rocket, apparently, because they're here too. “Oh hey,” they greet you. From afar, their outfit seemed simple—a white beanie, a red shirt, and black pants. As the light of the Get 'n' Get sign hits them, though, it's clearer that this outfit is a little more on the Lyla side. The red shirt turns out to be three or four ripped-up red garments, a tee and a scarf and sleeves from a different shirt, that have been overlapped so that the holes in one simply expose the fabric of another. This shirt of scraps hangs down loosely past the waist, obscuring where the tight black jeans begin—and unlike the shirt, the pants are in mint condition. Rocket stands outside their two-door hatchback and leans against the driver's door as they wait, and you greet them warmly as you come over to join them. Then, you ask why they aren't waiting in their car. “I'm baskin' in it, dude,” they reply. “Just feel it.” [[Next|The Rocket Ending]]](else:)[After you say your goodbye-for-nows and stop in at home, you're ready to grab a bite to eat and settle in to relax in the comforts of civilization with Lyla and her friends. But...where will you get (if: $choice_food is 1)[a hearty meal](else-if: $choice_food is 2)[good vegetarian cooking](else:)[a delicious treat] at this hour? Your search takes you to the same place it takes most of Cross Town's people: Merv's Burgers. The burger shop may look unassuming, but it's been here even longer than Lyla has. Good food and even better service are their hallmarks, but you're just here for a (if: $choice_food is 1)[hamburger](else-if: $choice_food is 2)[veggie burger](else:)[shake or something]. As it turns out, so is Lyla. She's stuck at the end of a line, so she notices you right away. “$name!” she shouts as she waves to you. Red and white are the dominant colors of Merv's. The floor is white tile with a path of red tiles to denote the flow of traffic, while the walls are white with a red baseboard. Employees wear horizontal stripes on their hats, and vertical stripes on their shirts. They also wear broad smiles, and mingle eagerly with customers across a red counter. The line of customers ahead of you dutifully follows the path. Somewhere within the building, someone is tending to a massive draft of smoky scent; it's there to dissuade corpse mutts, but it goes pretty well with the whole burger thing too. “Crazy, huh...?” Lyla mumbles. “Sometimes it gets so busy in here that I can't speak. I guess that'll happen, though...this is Mom's favorite.” Indeed, Merv's is milking that endorsement for all it's worth. One of the menu items is touted as “the fox's favorite!”, and many of the photos and positive quotes posted around the restaurant feature Alyce Brangwyn. There's a couple attempts to capture Alyce's lover Grizz on film too, but both times, he's simply hunched too far forward over his food, and his wild hair hides his face. Wait, that one's not a photo, that's— “Dad!” [[Next|The Lyla Ending]]]

Nothing is weird about wanting to read books, but wanting to stay after closing time is. Also, their cloak reminds you of a vintner, which isn't helping. Does this person really not know that some people wanna be able to put work away for awhile, maybe turn the lights off when there's not enough people coming in to make it worthwhile? They've never seen this? “Go ahead,” they respond, “turn the lights off. I'd prefer that.” That wasn't your point. You seethe with exasperation right away...no wonder Iain is asking for help. They can borrow the books they'd like and read them somewhere else, but they have to leave here and they can't come back until tomorrow when Lyla reopens. “Oh, well, why didn't you say so, then?” the stranger asks Iain. With that, they take their books in their arms and turn to leave. “Stop!” Iain commands them. “Now what?!” Iain looks ready to scream. His hands ball up against his head and gather scoops of hair. “You...” Then he relaxes and tries again. “...you have to come over here and check the books out.” “Why?” Iain doesn't even dignify this with a response. He sighs deeply, and prepares the front desk for the checkout process. As he fetches the stamps and a blank library card on which to record the stranger's information, your heart goes out to him. You can only hope something as elemental as their name and where they live isn't going to prove this hard to come by. To give Iain a hand, you humor the stranger. If they're going to stand there and ask why, you'll tell them why. Once they're done with those books—a stack of medical texts, by the looks of it—they'll have to bring them back. And in the meantime, if Lyla or anyone else is looking for those books and can't find them, she'll have a note that says someone took them home to read. [[Next|The ??? Ending (2)]]

“Ah, that makes sense,” the mysterious borrower says. For the first time since you've walked in, their emotion reads as something besides pure scorn. They've been screeching pretty harshly at Iain this whole time, but now that you've proven helpful, they murmur plainly and softly to you. “Thank you, $name. If only this stupid nerd were as smart as you.” Iain looks like he either wants to speak up really badly, or he's going to die on the spot. He does neither, and centers himself with another deep breath before he begins quizzing the stranger about their particulars. You leave them to it, and head to the interview room so you can find somewhere to stash your (if: $choice_food is 3)[churro](else:)[burrito]. While the main room of the Cross Town Public Library is a large warehouse filled with books, or perhaps a repurposed factory, Lyla has converted the space into a venerable repository of knowledge. She's done a good job making the space feel more comfortable and inviting, through advents such as throw rugs and couches. But it's her changes to the office space of the building that really drive home her vision. Lyla's interview space doesn't have a sink or even a water cooler, but it does have a table where she keeps a large jug of water she fills elsewhere. Around it are a dizzying variety of teas, coffees, and powdered mixes to give the water a variety of flavors, hot or cold. The carpet is royal purple and pleasantly plush, and someone's simply applied black paint directly to faux-wood walls to match the black ceiling; you can tell by the texture still inherent to the walls, by the seams and joints still visible through the paint job. As you poke your head around in search of a place to stow your food, you find all sorts of other things Lyla keeps in here—board games, card games, coloring books, that sort of thing. Finally, you give up and leave your (if: $choice_food is 3)[churro](else:)[burrito] on the drink table. By the time you rejoin Iain, his mysterious borrower is gone, and Lyla and Rocket are just now entering together. Lyla raises a hand in greeting and goes to speak, but Iain cuts her off before she can utter a syllable. “Good, you're here,” he spits. “Can I go home now?” “I—yes,” Lyla says. She sets her food down on the front desk in a hurry so she can stand by Iain and reach out to comfort him. “Are you okay? You seem upset.” [[Next|The ??? Ending (3)]]

You help Iain recount the tale of the difficult borrower, trying to come in here after closing. “And this just happened?” Rocket asks when you're finished. They glance back over their shoulder, through the doors and into the night. “We must've just missed 'em. Which is fine—I'd have been upset by that too.” Lyla clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “Now, now,” she chides the two of them, “you know Cross Town didn't even have a public library until I started one. Some people are still new to this...like this person, a one Elaine G—” Lyla's reading the name from the card Iain filled out with the stranger's information, but the very first field already has her slamming a hand on the desk and staring up at Iain. “What's going on, Iain?” “What...?” Iain mumbles. When he has no answer, Lyla groans and bolts for the door. It looks like she's searching the vicinity for the mysterious borrower. While she does that, Rocket peers over at the card Lyla was reading from. “That's my old name,” they answer simply. “Before I was Rocket, I was Elaine. But...there's no way you would know that. Or...” Rocket trails off and takes another look outside. “...who...? Why...?” Neither you nor Iain can answer those sorts of questions. All you can do is wait for Lyla to trot back into the library—empty-handed, unfortunately. “They really were just here?” she asks. You can guess what that means; seems like Lyla hasn't caught so much as a glimpse of the mysterious stranger. “Yeah!” Iain insists. “They went out and you came in...probably within one minute of each other.” “...weird.” Lyla sighs and shakes her head. “I'm sorry, Rocket...I hope this doesn't put you off from wanting to party.” “Yeah.” Iain can't offer much comfort in his agitated state, but he tries. “If I'd known they were...I mean, I'd have...” [[Next|The ??? Ending (4)]]

“Hey,” Rocket snaps at Iain. They're loud and curt to get his attention, but then they lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I told you, you couldn't have known. So I don't blame you.” Lyla nods and puts a reassuring hand on Iain's other shoulder. “Go home and get some sleep,” she tells him. “You did well, considering the circumstances.” “...yeah.” It doesn't really sound like Iain believes Lyla or Rocket, but he still takes their advice; he shrugs off the encounter and heads out the door. You watch after him, and it's clear he hasn't quite given up, not until his one last glance around the lot proves fruitless. Just as Iain storms off, Dorothy comes in right afterward. The calico pattern to her cat ears and tail is even more striking at night, as the whites almost shine in the light and the blacks seem to melt away into shadow. “Like—!” she exclaims as she comes in the door. Her tail flicks angrily, and the pink ribbon hanging from the cuff on her tail echoes her outburst. “What's his problem?” With Iain gone, it once again falls upon you to describe the scene he had to contend with. You're the only one left who was here to see the mystery borrower ask obtuse questions, and then sign out some very dense medical texts—under Rocket's previous name. “And then they were just gone,” Rocket finishes. “None of us saw where they went.” At first, Dorothy's response is only, “OMG.” Her ears flatten and she touches her chin. “That's, like, totally spooky.” “Yeah, but...” Rocket takes one last look to the sides, but the only response they get is a soft “whoosh” from the nighttime breeze. With one last shrug, they dart toward the entrance to the library. “...we've got food that's getting cold. Let's worry about that asshole when they come back to return those books.” Nobody can argue with Rocket's logic. They're already back inside. Lyla seems to realize this first, and giggles. “C'mon, Dorothy,” she says, not just gesturing but reaching for her friend. “I missed you...we've got so much to tell you!” [[Next|THE END, FOR NOW]]

## Congratulations! You've reached the end of the Lyla & You demo. Thanks for reading! (link-reveal: "A Note From the Author")[: Thank you for checking out Lyla & You! I've been putting my all into this story because I've been so eager to share it. You know, Lyla's character goes back quite a ways, as far back as spiral notebooks from my school days that...well, they should have been full of *notes*, but I was planning Alyce and Grizz's family tree and teetering between a few finalist baby names instead. But there's much more planning to do from here...as of the time of writing this note, the story simply ends here because there's a cross-country trip to figure out next (and I foresee myself getting very busy and tired from my day job). I want it to be very similar in structure to the story you just read, affording you choice, keeping tabs on your decisions, spreading hope and joy to even the most dire of settings...just, you know, even bigger. If you liked this day trip, I hope you'll join Lyla and Rocket (and Dorothy!) for the next one!] (link: "Return to Title Screen")[{ (set: $show_footer to false) (set: $show_header to false) (set: $timer to 4) (set: $you_brought to 0) (set: $choice_temp to 0) (set: $lyla_score to 0) (set: $rocket_score to 0) (set: $dorothy_score to 0) (set: $storymark to 0) (set: $lyla_quest1 to false) (set: $lyla_quest2 to false) (set: $rocket_quest1 to false) (set: $rocket_quest2 to false) (set: $choice_wwgd to false) (set: $choice_heron to false) (set: $choice_food to 0) (goto: "Title") }]

You laugh, but she has to know what you meant. She came all the way to Cross Town to visit this shop, when there must have been an equivalent in River City she could've gone to. Dorothy shrugs at the notion. “I guess?” The two of you enter the shop, and you're overwhelmed by a smoky smell, like that of a campfire. At the same time, the neon bedazzles you as it continues around the interior of the store as well. “I'd totally just go to the one in River City...but, like, this is way easier, for sure.” Blue light borders the menu and demarcates two possible paths through the building. According to the signage overhead, the left side is for carry-out orders; bright green tape on the floor provides traffic arrows leading to the counter and past an area of basic seating. Red accents are used along the rightward path, but that section is for eating in, which you're not doing—and besides, it's cordoned off at this hour. “What are you here for?” Dorothy asks, turning your question back at you. You tell her you're craving something rich in (if: $choice_food is 1)[protein](else-if: $choice_food is 2)[vegetables](else:)[sugar], and she says no more before she knits your needs into her order. Sushi with a side of extra rice for her, (if: $choice_food is 1)[teriyaki](else-if: $choice_food is 2)[vegetable tempura](else:)[daifuku] for you. “So,” Dorothy asks as you sit down and wait for your food, “how'd it go? I don't need all the deets, like, right now right now. Lyla sounded totally psyched over the phone!” Well, you can certainly mainline that for her. You tell Dorothy that Lyla found exactly what she was looking for in the ruins, and Rocket got some amazing pictures. “Gnarly, dude!” Dorothy steals a glance at the order counter, sees no food, and turns back to you. “What about you, $name? What'd you think?” It was fine, actually. As awful as the wastes can be, Lyla is actually very skilled at making the trip a pleasant one. You rode in safety and enjoyed many of Cross Town's comforts—good food and drink, air conditioning, a car radio for music... [[Next|The Dorothy Ending (2)]]

“Far out...!” Dorothy coos as you tell her about today's journey, and the comforts Lyla was able to provide. “Maybe it's not so grody after all...” It's totally not, you assure her. “Ooh...maybe I should, like, come with the next time Lyla asks.” You let Dorothy hang on to that thought—just like she's letting you hang on to your food and hers, now that your order's up. The two of you quickly decide to arrive at the CTPL together, and Dorothy suggests making it a walk, since it isn't all that far. It's an easy suggestion for her to make, when you're the one holding the bag. But in the end, you oblige her—after all, Dorothy was supposed to come on today's trip, and Lyla wants her on the longer trek. This is as good a time to any to get to know her. What Lyla's told you so far about Dorothy is that she's a longtime friend, and an authority when it comes to fashion and trends. “Is...is that what she said...?” Dorothy asks. She sounds almost incredulous that Lyla would say so. But that's what Lyla said, alright. And Rocket said Dorothy's capable of the most scathing zingers. Dorothy wags a finger at that. “That's closer to the truth,” she says, “for sure...” It's worded sort of arrogantly, but you can tell by her vibes that it's more bogus than boast. [[Next|The Dorothy Ending (3)]]

While Dorothy stews in her emotional turmoil, you glance around the town street. Solar-powered streetlamps bathe Cross Town in amber—and they'll probably keep it up all night, after such a sunny day. The traffic lights follow suit; there simply aren't enough cars on the road after nightfall to warrant more than flashing yellow pleas to be careful and courteous at crossings. Dorothy's outfit shimmers in the soft glow of the town, giving her the impression of a deep pool. Finally, she surfaces from her thoughts. “$name,” Dorothy begins, “this'll totally sound like I'm buggin'...but...do you think...people can change?” The two of you pause at the corner of a four-way intersection to look for traffic before you cross. There's no headlights looking back at you from any which way, not even pedestrians. Cross Town winks its lights as usual, and the Moon and stars dot the clear night sky above. “C'mon,” Dorothy says, urging you along. “It's, like, yes or no.” (link: "Why?")[You ask for an explanation, but Dorothy gets frustrated and waves a hand in front of her face. “Because being on my period and staying home from the adventure put me in a mood-o-rama! And I tried to watch a movie, but the one I saw totally made it worse!” The ferocity of her answer staggers you a little bit, and Dorothy turns up her nose at you. “Like, you asked, $name! Now it's totally your turn to answer my question.”] (link: "Yes.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (goto: "The Dorothy Ending (4)") }] (link: "No.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (goto: "The Dorothy Ending (4)") }]

(if: $choice_temp is 1)[Your answer relaxes Dorothy. “That's so Lyla,” she says, as she strolls with you past a block of small shops, all closed for the night. Her step is refilled with vigor and swagger. “She, like, totally has to believe that for her whole library thing to be, like, worth it or whatever. And me.” You ask Dorothy to elaborate. What seems to be the only car in the world passes you by, and she tenses up until they're gone, almost like the driver would listen in. The taillights of the passing car give Dorothy the signal to breathe. “I was, like, so lame when I first met Lyla. I even called her Cryla all the time—like, gag me with a spoon!” You don't comply. Instead, you remind Dorothy, that was kids' stuff. Dorothy's shrug sends a sort of ripple through her outfit, as her jacket catches the light differently. “I guess,” she relents. “But I totally had to move away from Lyla and, like, give us both some space. But I miss her...she was, like, always there for me, no matter what. Even when I was a lame-o. I, like, don't have that in River City, so I kinda wanna live in Cross Town again. It's, like, selfish or whatever, but...like, if I've changed into the friend Lyla totally deserves, it's win-win! For sure...!” Despite her assertion, Dorothy doesn't sound too sure.](else:)[Your answer relaxes Dorothy. “That's so Rocket,” she says, as she strolls with you past a block of small shops, all closed for the night. Her step is refilled with vigor and swagger. “They, like, totally have to believe that. It totally makes sense with people like me around, for sure.” You ask Dorothy to elaborate. What seems to be the only car in the world passes you by, and she tenses up until they're gone, almost like the driver would listen in. The taillights of the passing car give Dorothy the signal to breathe. “I was, like, so lame when I first met Lyla. I even called her Cryla all the time—like, gag me with a spoon!” You don't comply. Instead, you remind Dorothy, that was kids' stuff. Dorothy's tail swishes fiercely behind her. It disturbs her jacket ever so slightly, but just enough to change the way the light reflects off of her. “You totally said I can't change, though,” she points out. “So, like, once a lame-o, always a lame-o. But then...Lyla has always seen good in me, too. Like, always...I don't have that sort of support in River City. I so wanna move back to Cross Town, but...like, if I haven't changed, is it really enough to not be so grody at Lyla? Rocket says so, but...what if I slip up or whatever?”] You shrug. Dorothy certainly hasn't done anything grody or lame to you so far. At worst, she may merely be oversharing, but here at her side, you can tell these thoughts have been weighing her down, causing her feet to drag. But for all her doubts, Lyla and Rocket both spoke positively of her. She seems to have put countless hours of thought into this past of hers. When it all comes down to it, though, whether or not things are different enough for Lyla is up to Lyla. “...well, dur-hey,” Dorothy sneers. “But I can't just, like, buy a house and have it not work out or whatever. Then she'll just have to come to the party and see how Lyla and Rocket speak of her there. Metaphorically, she'll obviously have to face them at some point in order to actually be given their approval. But also...she's run out of sidewalk to meander upon, and now the CTPL is just ahead. [[Next|The Dorothy Ending (5)]]

When you arrive at the library, though, it seems like Lyla and Rocket are alarmed about something. The two of them have spilled out of the front door, and they stand in the parking lot, seemingly on the lookout for something. “Dorothy! $name!” Lyla greets the two of you in a hurry. “Did you see anyone out here as you came in?” You're taken aback by the urgency in her question. “...no,” Dorothy replies. She turns to you, but you don't remember seeing anyone either. “We saw one car, but it was, like, that Iain guy.” Rocket shakes their head. “No, not Iain,” they growl, “some weirdo dressed in black.” Unfortunately, Iain is the only person either you or Dorothy has seen in the vicinity of the library. Someone dressed in black would be pretty hard to spot—but not impossible, given all the streetlights around. There weren't any suspicious vehicles around, either. You ask Lyla and Rocket what's going on. “Some—” “Someone was being an asshole,” Rocket huffs, cutting Lyla off. “C'mon, let's get to partying before our food gets cold!” With that, they're the first one to reenter the library. Lyla takes a few steps after Rocket, then stops. She looks up to the night sky, but a gentle “whoosh” is the only answer it's got. She shrugs, and trains a smile squarely upon Dorothy. “C'mon, you two!” Lyla calls to you. After a few steps back your way, she adds, “We've got so much to tell Dorothy...we'll keep her up all night if we don't start right away!” Dorothy looks to you for guidance one last time, and you simply bid her to follow Lyla into the library. After all, Lyla's got a very good point. Dorothy isn't going to take as much convincing as Lyla seems to believe, but there is a lot of catching up to do. [[Next|THE END, FOR NOW]]

You stop and try to feel what it is Rocket feels in this moment. Much of the day's warmth has carried over into nightfall so far, and much of the sun's rays have been captured by the town's array of solar streetlights. A smoky smell billows from the Get 'n' Get to mask its scent from curious corpse mutts. Folks seem to come and go all the time, even at this hour. It feels...bizarre, almost, that the rhythm of Cross Town would go on like normal, after the day you've had. “Exactly...!” Rocket gasps. “I remember one time, Lyla came back from a trip like this.” They pause when a person comes by on roller-skates to take their order—fried jalapenos for them, (if: $choice_food is 1)[chicken tenders](else-if: $choice_food is 2)[fried green beans](else:)[ice cream] for you. “I kept bugging her, like...'How could you be so hype for Area 51 and not remember it?' But now I kinda get it! It's so...dreamy, already...” You nod. It's like you went to a different world and back. And you know what, maybe you did—what's another name for the pre-apocs and their time? “Old-world.” Rocket answers your question, then nods slowly. “That's a good point. A world like ours, but...” They trail off and stare into the clear night sky above. “You ever think about that, $name?” (link: "Think about what?")[You ask Rocket to elaborate, and they shrug up at the sky. “Oh, I dunno. A world like ours, but different.” They turn to you briefly and hold up their hands to cup intangible concepts in their palms. “What if there were no Agent Venom?” they ask, offering a handful of possibility to you. “What if you grew up to different parents?” They're alternating hands as they gesture to you, and they dump the first thought away to pick up a new one. “What if your favorite band had never broken up? What if Cross Town had never made an Asylum? Big or small, just one fix...what else would change with it? You ever stop and wonder...?”] (link: "Yes.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (goto: "The Rocket Ending (2)") }] (link: "No.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (goto: "The Rocket Ending (2)") }]

(if: $choice_temp is 1)[Oh yes. At times, the words “what if” are fascinating, and sometimes they're agonizing, but such questions have always interested you. You like it when stories delve into the topic—sometimes literally, when elements of sci-fi or magic start getting involved. And yes, it comes easy out there in the wasteland, to stare at some dilapidated building and ask, “What would this place be if Agent Venom hadn't happened?” “Yeah,” Rocket mumbles. “But you know what the point turns out to be, in a lot of those stories? It's about seeing the good in what you've got.”](else:)[It's not like you've never ever thought the words “what if”, but you've certainly never given them much weight. What is and what was are much more helpful to focus on. You just don't have that sort of curiosity to guess at all the different paths you could have taken in life—not when you're in the here and now trying to make yourself a better future with what you've got. Besides, no matter what you could want for so badly that you would be willing to “fix” the very flow of events to get it...there are things you appreciate in the world as it is now that you wouldn't dare risk losing.] Before you and Rocket can dwell on the subject any further, the waitstaff returns, wheeling your way with a platter in hand. You and Rocket give them and the Get 'n' Get your thanks as you take your respective meals. Once that's over, you end up carpooling with Rocket. There's free overnight parking not far from the Get 'n' Get where the two of you make the proper arrangements. Away from the hubbub of the fast food lot, though, Rocket starts staring off into space again. “...$name?” they say to you slowly. As they turn to you, they get the rest out. “When I think about how much had to line up for Earth and humans to exist, much less you and me specifically...the fact that we were both there to have each other's backs today...I feel really lucky.” The two of you climb into Rocket's car, and they fire up the engine. “Thanks for making your way here.” Rocket's words stick with you as the two of you drive toward the CTPL in silence. They've got a good point; it's wild to think that the steps you've taken in life have led you here. But many roads lead to Cross Town, hence the name—and where those roads meet, so do folks of all sorts. [[Next|The Rocket Ending (3)]]

When you meet the others at the library, though, something's wrong. Just as you arrive, Lyla's assistant Iain is storming out, and Lyla's stepping out behind him. She doesn't seem to be chasing him, though; she's looking for something—or someone—else. “Hi Rocket, hi $name!” Lyla greets the two of you as you clamber out of Rocket's hatchback. “Glad you could make it!” Before you can reciprocate the compliment, though, Lyla darts back and forth, whipping her gaze around the lot. “Did you guys see anyone leaving the library just now?” “Besides Iain?” Rocket clarifies. “No.” They turn to you, but your answer is the same. “Why? You okay, Lyla?” “Uh...yeah.” She doesn't sound okay. “Just...a rude customer. Sorry we're closed, you know...?” Rocket shrugs. “Oh...okay. Well, c'mon, $name, Lyla...we've gotta get everything set up for Dorothy!” They sweep Lyla up with an arm around her shoulders and urge her inside in a hurry. For awhile, you're left outside to ponder. As you look up at the stars, you've gotta hand it to the others and the adventure you've had today. You're hard-pressed to think of all that many ways for the trip to have gone better. If Dorothy had been able to tag along...that's one possibility you might be able to gauge, actually. Once she gets here, Lyla and Rocket will want to tell her all about the journey, and if Dorothy's reactions are honest enough, you'll get some insight as to what it'd be like to travel as a group of four, well in advance of Lyla making the arrangements. With that in mind, you spring into movement and hurry to rejoin the others. Dorothy's got a lot of catching up to do. Before you can make it back in, though, Rocket bursts out. "$name!" they call out to you. "You lost?" [[Next|THe Rocket Ending (4)]]

You appreciate Rocket coming back out to check on you, but you're not lost. It wasn't the mystery borrower, either. You were just...lagging behind, you guess. "Well, quit it!" Rocket japes. "You're lagging so far behind, you're making the others worry!" You certainly didn't mean to. When you go to quicken your pace, though, it's Rocket who lags behind this time. You reach the door and they don't, which prompts you to turn back to them and question them about it. It's hard to say what's on their mind; Rocket's halted outside the entryway to the library, and between the shadows there and their own hair, you can't read their face. "I dunno, $name. I thought I was over it before, but seeing Lyla talk to Dorothy, it's..." Whatever their facial expression was, it's now crumpled against their hands, as they hold their head. "...ugh!" You can barely ask Rocket what's wrong before they step forward to meet you. Their hands have moved to their scarf. "I told you I was adopted, right? By Frank Grimsley?" Yes, but what's that got to do— "Well, Lyla's got an adopted brother too...only he left town about as soon as he graduated." Rocket's fingers curl tighter around the red scarf. "But if Lyla's parents had adopted me, maybe we'd be doing this every day, instead..." Then, it's as if self-consciousness begins to leak out from the scarf; Rocket takes it off and puts it back on again, then goes quiet. "Maybe Aaron would've clicked better with Frank." You shrug. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't. Rocket mentioned earlier that their dad was supportive, even outright helpful, when they were changing their name and pronouns. Could Grizz have navigated that? Rocket bursts out laughing. "Alyce, yes," they hoot, "but not Grizz. Not unless there's some microwave meal-ass directions he can follow." Forget Alyce and Grizz and even Frank. If anyone's getting easy instructions out of the process of Rocket's gender exploration, it should be Rocket. "Hey, yeah!" With that, Rocket steps around you and sweeps an arm around you, towing you back inside the library along with them. Unlike some of Lyla's previous attempts...it seems like what you said was able to help Rocket after all. [[Next|THE END, FOR NOW]]

Lyla calls out to Grizz, and the sloppy figure leaning back in the corner perks up. The two of them wave to each other, calling your attention to the fact that Lyla has traded her gloves for a dainty white—yet also fingerless—pair, while Grizz's gloves are brown and rugged and filthy. Then, he slinks back into the corner; it looks like something out the front window has his interest. “Hey $name,” Lyla says, still staring toward her dad, “I'm gonna order and pay and then go see Dad.” It's not a question. Indeed, she makes good on her promise—“the fox's favorite” for her, a (if: $choice_food is 1)[double cheeseburger](else-if: $choice_food is 2)[double bean burger](else:)[shake and fries] for you—and takes off faster than you've ever seen her move. Her tail whips more than you've ever seen, too. You accept the receipt from the cashier, because it's got your order number on it and they'll be calling it out soon enough. In the meantime, you catch up to Lyla well after she's tucked herself into the seat next to Grizz. “—spin-kicked a vintner,” she's telling him. Grizz laughs at her tale, then beams a smile up at you. “Holy shit!” he cheers. “I'm so proud to be the parent of...that...!” Soon, he's extending a fist in greeting. “You Rocket?” “No, Dad, this is $name.” “Whatever.” Rocket or $name, Grizz gladly shares a fist-bump with you either way. While Lyla has attempted to rein in some of the baggier aspects of her pastel-purple dress with a yellow scarf, a yellow belt, and rainbow armbands, Grizz's green hoodie pools haphazardly around him. In fact, it looks like it's supposed to zip up in front, but the zipper itself is long gone. The hoodie dangles off one shoulder as he returns to his meal, a hamburger and chicken burger stacked together as one, and the drawstrings jingle as he lunges in for just the sort of bite that it takes to get your mouth around a chicken burger stacked on top of a hamburger. [[Next|The Lyla Ending (2)]]

While Grizz chews on that, Lyla perks up in her seat. “You should've seen $name too, Dad. Everyone was fantastic today!” “Mmrr.” Grizz tries communicating via thumbs-up next, while he finishes his current bite. “You find that fuckin' letter?” “I did! I didn't manage to bring it home...but I got what I needed out of it!” “Nice.” There's a terrible ruckus as Grizz rips the lid off his drink cup so he can get at the ice inside. He tips one of the ice cubes into his mouth so that he can crunch away at it. Lyla lets out an exasperated sigh. “I'm sorry, $name,” she says, though she's looking at Grizz, not at you. “What he's trying to say is 'hi, nice to meet you, I am glad my daughter has such good friends'.” Somewhere around “nice to meet you”, Grizz's molars come down hard on the ice cube in his mouth. Lyla ducks away as a spray of cold water and small ice chunks bursts out from the impact, though it wouldn't have reached far enough to get her either way. “Bullshit,” he finally replies. “I wouldn't say that.” “Okay.” Suddenly, Lyla jabs all her fingers into her hair and ruffles her hairdo into oblivion. “Fine.” She'd brushed it reasonably straight, but now she's destroyed that order and...seeing them side-by-side, it strikes you just how alike her hair and Grizz's are. Lyla just grows hers a few inches longer in back and shorter bangs in front. “Ugh. Fuckin' fuck, ya fuck.” Lyla's dropped the pitch of her voice to impersonate Grizz. He immediately tries and fails to contain a chuckle. “Hey—” “She trusts ya a lot to take ya on this trip, so don't fuck up, see?” “A'ight,” Grizz admits, “I was actually thinkin'—” “Got ripped off by this bullshit orange juice at the grocery store...the label says 'concentrate' an' I did that but nothin' hap—“ Lyla's voice quickly returns to normal as she lets out a squeak. She's been caught off-guard by Grizz taking another loud, messy bite of an ice cube. “Ugh, c'mon, Dad, that was gonna be the last one! Promise!” [[Next|The Lyla Ending (3)]]

Grizz shakes his head. “It's whatever," he says. "I ain't seen ya this wound up in a long time.” Then, he pointedly looks up at you and says, “Ya must've had a great time.” That's probably the most overt approval you're going to get from Grizz, considering he was in the middle of a meal—and yours is ready to go! The staff call out an order and a number that both match the receipt you've got. You excuse yourself, and leave Lyla and Grizz to catch up while you get the food. As you wander back through the restaurant, though, images from earlier in the day claw at the corners of your mind. Now that you've been out in the ruins, it's clear that Cross Town's development owes a lot to the pre-apocs. That's never really occurred to you, much less been a problem, but now, it's so easy to transpose memories of what you've seen onto your current surroundings. For all you know, there could've been a place exactly like this among the ruins. Of course, this leads to the question that's gnawed at you here and there all day. Are we next? You don't ask the cashier for an answer. You just flash your receipt, gather your food, and thank them. You don't ask Lyla or Grizz for an answer, either. You just let her say goodbye to her dad—he plans on bringing a meal to Alyce right after work—and then follow her out of the burger shop. Lyla is still giggling about her encounter. “Oh, Dad,” she sighs as she leads the way to the parking lot. “$name, do you want to ride with me to the library?” That...seems like a good idea. It'd sure beat being alone with the thoughts you were having before. That car of hers has been a safe spot all day long, and you climb right in, eager to bask in the safety anew. [[Next|The Lyla Ending (4)]]

“So,” Lyla says as she sidles into the driver's seat, “your first ruins investigation, and it's a success...! How do you feel?” Grizz was right—Lyla's energy is immense right now. She hasn't even turned the car on, because she's so singly fixated on listening to you. Her tail is going nuts against the seat. She's probably hoping for a lot more happiness than what's been on your mind. “$name?” Lyla says softly. “You okay...?” You share your experience in the Merv's Burgers, the trippy epiphany that it's built much like the pre-apocs would've done, and if it happened to them... “...ah,” Lyla finally says. “Lemme ask you, $name, you ever see that movie, Miracle Mile?” (link: "Yes.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 1) (goto: "The Lyla Ending (5)") }] (link: "No.")[{ (set: $choice_temp to 2) (goto: "The Lyla Ending (5)") }]

(if: $choice_temp is 1)[Lyla nods approvingly when you let her know you get her movie reference. “Good,” she chirps, “it's sorta like that.”](else:)[Lyla frowns for a moment when you tell her you haven't seen the movie she's referring to. “Oh,” she spits. “Well, life is still sorta like that.”] Lyla starts the car and pulls out of the Merv's Burgers parking lot. Fortunately, there's still a decent amount of traffic ebbing through the place at this hour. The ordinary rhythm of Cross Town is suddenly a whole lot more soothing. “Even if I find out shit's hitting the fan,” Lyla explains as she drives, “what am I gonna do? I doubt I'd get enough advance notice to it to change anything.” But what if— “Shh.” Lyla reaches for the two air fresheners dangling from her rear-view mirror. “My mom taught me how to always be ready to help people...and my dad taught me to always be ready to fight.” She lets go, and the tangled strings slowly waltz back to equilibrium. “If I keep those two things in mind...that's as ready as I'll ever be. For a flat tire, or a visit from a friend, or the end of days...” Unfortunately, Lyla can't help you any further. The two of you have reached the library, and something seems to be going on outside. Dorothy's made it here just a little earlier than you, and she's rushed to Rocket's side. Nobody looks hurt, but Rocket looks bewildered. “Lyla, $name!” Rocket hollers to the two of you as you exit Lyla's car. “Did you see anyone else on your way in? Someone leaving the library...?” [[Next|The Lyla Ending (6)]]

“N...no,” Lyla replies, stretching it out as she thinks. "I think I saw Iain's car, but..." Lyla trails off and turns to you, but you haven't seen anyone either. But then, you were engrossed in your own conversation with Lyla. Rocket sighs and throws their back against the front door of the library. “Oh well,” they say. “Just...someone giving Iain a hard time.” They shake their head, and the more the others look around the dark for this rude customer, the more urgently Rocket waves for everyone to come inside. “Eh, they must be long gone by now. C'mon, we've got food that's getting cold...!” Lyla and Dorothy are quick to follow Rocket, to check in with them after...whatever it is that happened here. But you find yourself distracted. You still have the issues you were contending with. Maybe Rocket wasn't feeling too reassured by Lyla's words earlier today, but they were working just now. It seems like Rocket needs those words now, so you contend yourself with one last look around the town. “Whoosh,” is all Cross Town has to say to you now. Far above, the stars shine in a clear night sky, and they too prove untalkative. There's nothing left for you to do but to follow the others...but then, maybe that's it. That's sort of what Lyla was saying before too—there's only so much she can do to prepare for hardship. You, too, realize that this is not a night for that sort of thing. For the time being, there's not much you can do but rejoin your friends and have some fun. Besides, Dorothy is counting on you; there's a lot to catch her up on. [[Next|THE END, FOR NOW]]