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Surf a Flood of random discussion.

12/19/2010 7:38:54 AM
5

The Search

[i]You can't leave a place for two years and come back expecting everything to stay the same. Which is why sometimes you can be surprised at how little things change.[/i] ------- Fiurha was known by few people before. Now she imagined not a single person here knew her. She didn't mind that. Popularity wasn't her thing. Today, however, she searched for a man who was very popular. A man who was considered by many to be dead. He left one day. Gone just like that. And everyone assumed that he'd gone off to find a better life because, as everyone knew, life in the Flood was nothing to be jealous of. She strolled past a dark house full of cigarette smoke and people. She heard the voice of one, Zelbon shouting out his hatred for things. For nothing really. Cake, birthdays, the little weeds that leave thistles in your socks. Things a normal person wouldn't even care about. But these people care. But there was only one thing Fiurha cared about. She walked into the Flood Library where she planned on meeting her contact. She found a book and quietly sat down. The place seemed empty now. Emptier than before. Because [i]he[/i] wasn't in it. "You can read his books all day, but it won't bring him back to you." Fiurha looked up and smiled, "Good to see you MinkOWar. It's been a long time." Mink smiled back at her, "Too long." He sat down across from her, eyeing the book in her hands. "You still think he's alive." Fiurha face set firmly, "I know it." She leaned forward, "He's not the type of person who would just leave without another word. I mean, go on vacation and come back, sure. But gone for good? Nobody does that." "Unless they're dead," Mink cut in. "He's not dead!" Fiurha shouted, drawing a sharp gaze from Squirrel Dude, the librarian. "How do you know?" "Because if he were dead, we would know it. If the Mods killed him, they would have announced it. He's alive. I know it." "Then why hasn't he come back?" Fiurha leaned in close, "Because the Mods won't let him." Mink looked at her skeptically, "Won't let him?" "Think about. We always say nobody leaves the Flood. They always come back. The only reason he wouldn't come back is because the Mods won't let him." "Or because this place is a dump..." Fiurha shook her head, "You know he loved it here. The attention, the idiots he could manipulate. This was his home." Mink held up his hands, "Okay fine. So he's alive...according to you at least. Why did you call me? What do you plan on doing?" Fiurha looked around discreetly and then whispered, "I'm gonna break into HFCS." Mink stared at her for a moment and then asked, "Why?" "The facility is huge and nobody really knows what goes on in there." Mink looked at her with a piercing gaze, "There's something you aren't telling me." Fiurha pursed her lips and then said slowly, "There's something else. I've watched people try to leave this place. Bungie. Sure we can leave the Flood. Visit the Septagon--" "Community Center" Mink interjected. "Explore the area, but we can't leave. I followed someone once. Obbiquiet, you remember him." Mink nodded. "He left, said he was gone for good. Wanted to see the world. I followed him. The Mods...they took him back to HFCS." Mink's eyes widened, "What?" "Knocked him out and took him back. That's why when you look at this book, you see that it was written by "Anonymous User(deleted)". I don't say his name for the same reason you don't. The Mods want everyone to think he's gone. That everything is lovely here." "You're sure that's what you saw?" MInk asked, still dumbfounded. "Trust me," Fiurha reassured him. "Something's going on in there. I know he's in there. I want him out and I need you to help me." "How can I help you?" "You have resources I need. Resources to break into HFCS." "And what's in it for me?" "Money. Lots of money." Mink chuckled, "It better be a lot. This is dangerous stuff you're talking about here. It's also suicide, just so you know." Fiurha handed him a piece of paper, "Here's a list of what I need. I'll meet you again in two days." Mink took the paper and looked over it. "This will take me longer than two days to get." "That's fine, just give me a final price tag in two days and I'll pick up the rest of the stuff when you get it." Mink nodded, and they both stood to leave. As they did, he put his hand on Fiurha's shoulder, "Fiurha...be careful. We need you out here." Fiurha smiled but didn't respond as she walked out the door. --------- Squirrel Dude watched the two leave in disbelief. Did they really think they could break into HFCS? Not if he could help it. He picked up the phone and dialed. "Hello, Duardo? I've got some information for you."

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  • [quote][b]Posted by:[/b] The Searcher [quote][b]Posted by:[/b] theHurtfulTurkey I think Duardo would be too busy crushing the hopes and dreams of small children to pick up the phone. [/quote] But if the act of picking up the phone resulted in the crushing of said hopes and dreams, would he not do so?[/quote] I think if whomever he's speaking with doesn't give him the information he needs in the next part of the story, that person's day is going to get all sorts of -blam!- up.

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  • There has always been a man in the missile turret. Just as there has always been a missile turret. I've lived in this village for 20 years, and the turret on the hill has been there. Watching over us. When I was young, I asked my father, "Father, why is there a man in the missile turret?" He said, "I don't know, son, he's just always been there. He was there when I asked my father the same question, and maybe he was there before that." "Does anyone ever talk to him?" "Nobody, Son." "Why not?" "Because we're afraid." "Afraid of what?" "Of the man. And the missiles." Well I was not afraid of the man. Not any more. It's my 20th birthday today, and I'm going to talk to the man. And ask him why he's always been there. I'm standing on the cliff over looking the village now, and the man and the turret are just 50 feet or so behind me. The wind howls around me. I can almost feel it trying to push me over the cliff, as if warning me. Warning me to stay away, warning me to leave things as they are. I turn around and walk towards the turret. I yell out for the man, but the wind steals my voice, and I don't know if he can hear. I hold my hand up above my eyes to shield them from the sun. I cannot make out the man's features. He must be at least 70 or 80 years old, by now. Maybe older. Nobody in the town remembers a day when he wasn't there. Finally, I approach the feet of the turret. As I do, I can hear it whir to life as the turret turns to face me. There is a man in the turret. There has always been a man in the missile turret. He is as old as I expected him to look. Wrinkled, wizened, balding. He looks down at me. He doesn't say a word. I don't say a word either. He just looks down at me, and offers his hand. I have always been the man in the missile turret.

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  • [quote][b]Posted by:[/b] theHurtfulTurkey I think Duardo would be too busy crushing the hopes and dreams of small children to pick up the phone. [/quote] But if the act of picking up the phone resulted in the crushing of said hopes and dreams, would he not do so?

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  • I think Duardo would be too busy crushing the hopes and dreams of small children to pick up the phone. I say that with all the love I can muster. [Edited on 12.18.2010 11:42 PM PST]

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  • tl;dr

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