Futuristic Blackwater (OPEN)

[Agante Potatus]

BLACKWATER

September 4th, 2250
It has been 250 years since a truly stable society has been seen in North America. In the year 2000, an event known as "The Doom" struck the world, but nobody knows much about it. All we do know is that The Doom was strong enough to wipe out the nations in North America, and cut off contact with the rest of the world. Somewhere on the north-eastern coast of an old land once known as the proud America, lies the Blackwater River, wide and slow-moving and on both sides the ruins of Blackwater City.

On the east bank lies the Blackwater Authority, a community of 2,000 people and an extra 500 soldiers, all descendents of the survivors of The Doom. Some people say the B.A is a surviving but now broken off branch of the US military. The Blackwater Authority is 70 years old, and controls a militarized safezone ruled by the Mayor, elected through a vote among military officers every 10 years, and the civilians have no say in it. They control the bridge that connects them to the western bank. Nobody comes and goes without their leave.

On the west bank lies the Freezone, a dangerous expanse of ruins and abandoned buildings home to scavengers, bandits, outlanders, and exiles. These people have either been rejected entry into the safezone owned by B.A, or they were kicked out for being thieves, but none of them are murderers. In the Blackwater community, serious crimes get you the bullet. B.A lacks the manpower to further take over and rebuild this area, their soldiers already spread thin.

You are one of those lucky enough to live inside the Blackwater Authority. You live on ration scrips handed out by the Authority in return for work and service, and you have a strict curfew to stay indoors by 7:30 PM, or else you get shot on sight. Your life is difficult for you and any family you happen to have, but you've heard whispers and rumours of an underground network within the community, leading smuggling trips from the ruins and the safezones. You decide to look more into these rumours, for if the business of scavenging and smuggling is true, it'd put more scrips in your pocket...

(This is the RP thread.)
​

 

[Agante Potatus]

West Bank/Freezone
3:15 AM
=
Kommadant_Klynx Papa Waluigi Moomba Arayhia Shotgunpenguin snowplow
=
It was quite a gruesome sight, Ivan knew.
He had stolen a canoe from the fishermen's shipyard, sneaking past the tired and sleepy guard in the dead of night, 10:00PM. It had taken almost half an hour to get himself to the freezone on the other side, and now he had been searching for goods and supplies to bring back to the illegal markets, but his chances had been growing slim so he headed deeper.

That had almost been a mistake. Had he passed through this location just a few ten minutes ago, he would've been caught up in what lied infront of him. Two scavengers, men he had glimpsed in the markets, were sprawled across the floor and with makeshift arrows in their bodies, no doubt loosed by a bandit or outlander, and quite recently judging from the fresh and still flowing blood. Guns had become sparse in the area, so they relied on the use of melee, like knives and bats and pipes, or occasionally things such as the bow or sling. Then they'd loot the guns off the dead smugglers.

Well, more stuff for me, he thought morbidly, yet still feeling some pity for the dead men. He searched their bodies, and knew there were no guns if they had indeed been killed by outlanders. Nonetheless, he was in luck, finding a Beretta M9 in a concealed jacket pocket along with a stainless steel knife, six ration scrips for food, a functioning watch, and some high quality, fine leather boots. He stuffed what he could in the knapsack, but could barely hold the leather boots, so he decided to replace his stained and ragged ones with the new ones.

He caught a glimpse at the watch and saw the time to be 3:15 in the morning. Fuck. He turned and jogged back towards the river, getting back to the shore and to his canoe in 6 minutes. He got back into the canoe and looked up. It's still pretty dark outside, he thought happily. So long as it was dark, Blackwater troops and watchmen wouldn't be able to spot him until he got close to the shoreline, but by then they'd be transitioning to their posts for daytime at the work posts and such. He'd be back in bed in no time without anybody noticing, and maybe even get an extra hour of sleep in. All he had to do, was get back into the shipyard...
​

 

[Kommadant_Klynx]

Blackwater Sewers/Black Market
***
4:45 AM
***​

Karl had awoken early in the morning, as he usually did. His medical duties were not scheduled until much later, at around 7:00 AM. The black markets, located in the deep sewers of the Blackwater Authority, opened quite early in the morning as well as late at night. That way, there was a less likely chance their dealings would be found. Karl would spread out everything he acquired from yesterday's scavenging mission onto the small foldable table at the corner of his apartment. A few empty bullet casings left behind in the army's own garbage dumps, some extra medical equipment taken from the hospital, and two rusted old tools from the smithery. Not a bad collection. However, it couldn't remain lingering in his apartment for very long. And so, that morning, Karl prepared his things and set off for the underground marketplace, the sky still dimly lit by the moon.

The venture over to the sewers was an easy one. Being early in the morning, the community's own military force wasn't that active. Making his way along the outskirts of the Blackwater Authority, the young medic soon found one of the many entrances to the sewers. There, standing before him, was an old run down shack, quite disconnected from the rest of the housing district. It's original purpose no one knew, but now it served as a secret passage into the marketplace. Karl looked around each of his shoulders, before silently making his way through the front door, and into the hut. Dusting off a few layers of hay, he uncovered a large hatch embedded into the floorboards. Inserting a small metallic key into the keyhole, the hatch door unlocked with a noticeable click. Karl climbed his way down before he eventually dropped straight down into the sewers.

The sewers had always disgusted Karl. But, he was forced to go through them nonetheless. After a short walk, Karl finally made his way to the marketplace. It had been established in a large set of rooms in the sewer system, bustling with activity even this early in the morning. Many shop stands had set up, where merchants bought and sold wares. Of course, they did not exchange money. Currency was never really that valuable anymore. Instead, they exchanged bags of food rations. Karl made his way up to one of the many stands and began to barter with the shopkeep. He had been through this process many times before. Within a few minutes, he had sold all of his goods for a decent amount of rations. Hopefully, it would be enough to sustain him for the next couple of days. He would place all of the precious food rations inside of his backpack, securing them for later. It was around 5:20 in the morning now, and he would only have a little bit of time left to scavenge once again. However, perhaps he could hire someone to help him save some time, he thought. He'd just have to look around.​

 

[SpaceDandy]

East Bank/Port Authority
****

3:30 AM
****​

Atlas was pulling night shift at the Port Authority. He walked along the docks with one of the Blackwater Regular Militia. “Been a bit more of the Locoweed been making the rounds about town as of late.” said Rigal. Atlas yawned as he walked stretching his arms out over his head. Most of the B.A. guards were on the take… Atlas didn’t mind, had to do some B.A. Black Market work himself often enough to survive. “Yes, lets face it Rigal people need an escape, some hope…” replied Atlas nonchalantly. Rigal scoffed “These lazy piss ants should be grateful we protect them and let them stay in the city..” Atlas glanced over at Rigal with a look of annoyance that was hidden by the dark. The mist began to roll into the harbor as the morning approached. Most of the smugglers had other methods into the city. But some of the larger syndicats enjoyed bribing their way to using the port. “Ya…. I guess your right..” said Atlas half heartedly. Atlas didn’t want to get put on any watch lists. Atlas and Rigal walked all the way to the far end of the docks. Looking out you could see one of the large sewer outlets pouring out the cities filth into the river. Atlas thought he could make out a boat in the mist approaching. He spun around walking back the way they came. “Come along Rigal lets go get our pay, i'm tired and it's about quitting time.” Rigal squinted out into the mist and then shrugged “Ya it's been a calm night let's keep it that way.”

****
LATER
****

Blackwater Sewers/Black Market

****

5:15 AM
****​

Atlas poured himself a liberal dose of B.A. rotgut at the Black Market Bar he had swapped two ration bars for a bottle of the stuff. He was looking to find some work for a run to the free zone tonight after a good sleep. The prospects weren’t looking too good as he looked around the market and open bar. Things were getting ready to shut down for the day and he was going to have to head back to the flophouse. Atlas sat alone at the wooden table his black combat gear on and his gas mask hanging on his hip. He ran a brush through his beard and continued to look around. He took out a protein bar and gave it a bite and then took another shot of rotgut.

 

[Bad Bunny]

Bad Bunny mind deleting this post and moving to ooc?

Ooc?

 

[Papa Waluigi]

Blackwater Sewers
4:00 A.M
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It was odd, to say at the least. Alecia had never been out of her bed this early. Well, not for reasons she was okay with. Her eyes, somehow, were wide and on alert, not tired nor droopy. Before she left, Alecia had rubbed Ezekiel's head, taking a deep sigh before venturing off to the place she's only heard of. The black market, a place where people go to trade possessions for scrips. That's all Alecia heard, that is. She's never gone before, and hopefully she had enough findings to bargain for good scrips, enough to keep Ezekiel eating and her from starving.​

​

Every little noise made Alecia jump. With her backpack tightly secured around her back, she made her way to the sewers, praying she found the right place, hoping that they were still open. She couldn't let the guards see her, she just couldn't. It would leave her brother alone, she couldn't bear that thought. With a stone cold face, she pulled her goggles down to cover her eyes, shielding her identity even if it was only a little bit. She doesn't know who would be there, who could be trusted. She would take no chances this morning. ​

​

The sewers were disgusting.​

​

Filth, dirty water, flies, everything would make Alecia frown in disgust and distaste. But, she had to venture on, she had to keep going. Her leather boots felt sticky on the ground, and it took effort for her to trudge her way through, until she found it. The marketplace, where so many people stood, talking or sitting, brooding in their own corners. She couldn't tell if she recognized anyone, but then again, she never spoke to anyone but her brother and her boss. With a deep scowl, she walked around, avoiding anything that could draw attention to herself. Any time she would even think she saw a man looking at her, even if he wasn't, she'd think, 'dirty old man'. Out of instinct, she felt a distaste for everyone around her. Alecia couldn't just walk around forever, she needed to get down to business. So, to the first person she saw, she tapped their shoulder until she got there attention. "I need help. I want to trade for scrips. Know who I should talk to?"​

 

[Agante Potatus]

East Bank/Blackwater Community
4:05-4:10 AM
=
The sky was slowly beginning to light up and, in an hour or so the sun would come back up and Blackwater come to life. Ivan cautiously moved through the streets in the dead of night. He had evaded a few patrolling night-shift troops and nearly cut one down while trying to hide, but luckily it hadn't come to that. Usually he would have simply gone to the black markets and sold whatever he had found, but he needed to get an extra hour of shut eye and be ready for his fishing duties by 6:00. Right now he was creeping through a narrow alleyway, right beside the residential building (once a 3-star hotel) that had been his home. Now was the most difficult part; getting up there.

He pushed an empty crate aside and it revealed a pile of grass and straw. He shoved that aside as well revealing a long rope with a hook, as long as it needed to be, and gave it a good swing. He missed, but on his second try the hook caught securely onto his window, thankfully. Then, all he had to do was slowly make his way back up and into his apartment building, using empty spaces with missing bricks to place his feet and hands to a further advantage. It was cold and a windy night, and felt like weak knives of chill going through his body despite his somewhat insulating jacket.

Mr. Winther was able to reach the top, and opened the window fully (he always keeps it slightly open) to go into his room. Ivan's living quarters weren't too bad but definitely could be better; the windows were scratched and the curtains dirty & torn. The blankets and bedsheets were fine but smelt of sweat, horses, and... "other things," and there were no pillows. There were no holes in the roof but the paint on the walls ws deteriorating, and there was a large hole in the wall big enough for Ivan to jump through and out into the air. Luckily the builders had seen to fixing it, sealing it up with planks and covering it over with animal hides and towels. The little carpet he had in the room had been stained with something that suspiciously looked like blood, but he had slid his bed over it to conceal the marks.

He slid his knapsack into a small yet long open gap on the floor, and put the carpet back over it to keep it hidden as best he could. It was a risky but so far successful way to keep his loot hidden; other people would keep their loot on themselves at all times, many stored in hidden corners and shafts within the sewers. Ivan once knew a man who had hidden a bag of cocaine and some bullets in his underwear, and the guards never bothered to search those areas

"Fucking hell, that was one hell of a run," he muttered, sliding his BB-gun underneath the bed and the knife by the pillow, throwing his jacket off and taking a long stretch. He pulled out his wallet and looked to see how many ration scrips he had saved. There were a total of 16 ration scrips, and Ivan always planned out what he intended to exchange each group of scrips for. He was going to spend two on medicine, three on alcohol, and five on food. The other 6 would be kept aside for more dire needs.

When that was done, he took off his boots and sat down on his bed, sighing and cracking his knuckles and neck. He then slid into bed and sat there, hoping the sleep would come to him quick, but it didn't. He found himself thinking of his father; Eren Winther liked to drink with his co-workers on the break and free times and make crude jokes, but nonetheless worked hard and treated his family well, remarking on how Ivan got his bad behavior and prickly behavior from his mother, but that had all ended when his boat tipped over and he drowned in the Blackwater river. Jean Winther was a good mother to him, although Ivan didn't know her as well as he did his father. He recalled the time she punished at him for throwing rocks at another kid, and how it got him punished four weeks straight. He smiled but the memories soon turned sour with the thoughts of her final days.

Ivan Winther did not find sleep, but rather the sleep found him. His eyes came shut and soon his senses faded into dreams. ​

 

[Shotgunpenguin]

Blackwater Outskirts/Western Border

(4:00 AM)
****
​

It was a strange feeling, waiting outside in the fog near the western wall for her guide. Part of Lucy expected to be surrounded by the militia and exiled for trying to access this place, but as she stood by the wall a lone person walked towards her. It was Seward, a scavenger who she had overheard speaking about the market while outside of her workshop. He seemed just as nervous as she was, looking around as if he wasn't sure that she would turn him in before speaking. "Alright you know the deal. Three scrips to show you how to get to the market." He held out his hand expectantly as Lucy begrudgingly handed over the scrips, half of her reserve, and stuffed them into his pocket. "Alright follow me and don't make a sound. We get spotted you're on your own." She nodded her head as they crouched low and made their way along border, moving fast and pausing every now and then when they heard something. Eventually they came to a small stone block partially hidden by tall grass. Seward uncovered the block and revealed it as an elevated sewer grate which he then pried open. He motioned for her to follow him as they descended into the darkness below.

You never really realize how thankful you are that you don't live near a sewer until your ankle deep in one. Lucy had pulled her shirt over her nose and was breathing through her mouth as they made their way towards the market. She made a mental note to write down which pipes to take in order to reach this place after they arrived. They walked in silence for a few minutes before they came out at a large open area with multiple pipes surrounding it. Judging by the area she guessed that this area was probably some sort of mass drainage area or something similar to it, with a large number of people walking about. Multiple stalls were set up alongside some more permanent looking buildings with people coming in and out. "Alright this is where we part ways. I didn't show you this place and I know nothing of it." Seward turned and quickly hustled away, disappearing into the crowd and leaving her to herself.

She wandered aimlessly for a short while in awe at the sheer size of this place right under Blackwater. She couldn't tell exactly what time it was but she knew that she needed to be back before her duties started at 8 AM. Not really knowing where she should even begin to start her search she wandered around for a short while before she felt a tap on the back of her shoulder. It was a girl that looked a few years younger than her with blackish hair and a pair of goggles wrapped around her head. The girl asked Lucy where she could trade for scrips and Lucy paused to look around to be sure she was talking to her. "Uhh sorry I don't think I can help you with that. Still trying to figure that shit out myself." She paused before adding "But if you want to earn some scrips I do need some information. I'm looking for a certain tool, it's pretty sentimental and it's gone missing. What do you say?" She asked the girl. "The name's Lucy by the way."

Papa Waluigi

 

[Kommadant_Klynx]

Blackwater Sewers
***
5:25 AM
***
Karl's luck had seemingly run out that morning, as he had trouble finding anyone who would aid him. Most of the other market patrons were busy dealing with their own problems and didn't see the benefit in helping out some 19 year old for a few extra scrips. But, Karl was stubborn. And he still had a good amount of time to kill before he had to attend to his duties as a medic. So, still eager to find a looting partner, Karl made his way to the only place he still hadn't checked: the bar. The Black Market was 'black' for a reason, and the bar represented this. Though many came to the sewers for honest trade, there were others, others who sought out other professions. Mercenaries, thieves, bandits; they all came to the bar for the same reasons. It seemed that the allure of both drinks and women could attract any type of man. Karl was completely out of options, however. And so he made his way quietly over towards the Black Market Bar, trying not to make a scene upon his arrival.

Upon entering the bar, Karl immediately picked up on the smell of alcohol stagnant in the air. To say the least, it was not an odor he particularly enjoyed. Beginning to look around, the medic noticed that the bar was quite lively, just as he had expected. People buzzed about back and forth in a flurry of several different movements. Waitresses delivered drinks, the barkeep worked attentively at his counter, and men would exchange words over the warming heat of the fireplace. However, amongst all this hustle and bustle, one distinct figure stook out to Karl. The man seemingly sat alone, his thick red hair and beard sticking out like a sore thumb, even in the dimly lit pub. Approaching courageously, Karl took a seat directly across from the man.

"You look kinda bored. In need of some work?" Karl asked, twiddling his fingers on top of the wooden table. SpaceDandy ​

 

[Moomba]

J.D Malone
5:30 AM
Westside
****************
J.D Malone stretched and stood up from his bed. After taking care of himself, he got work on getting the forge ready for the day. After heating up the forge and lining up the tools, he flipped the sign on his ramshackle shop to Open. The shop looked like a scrap metal hut attached to an old shopfront. Malone grabbed some scrapper gathered steel and got to work on the order he had been given. 5 pistols for Blackwater Authority soldiers. He hummed as he began to pound out a metal barrel for one of the pistols.
About an hour later, he had finished the first pistol. The Blackwater Authority wanted to open a foundry to produce weapons faster. Of course, they would first need to know how to make firearms, a closely guarded secret of the Metalworkers Guild. Malone sighed. I would like nothing better than to produce weapons for all. He considered the black market. mayhaps I can sell my wears for better prices there. Or at least meet some people who would like to destroy the Authority as much as I.
The Sewers
******************
Malone entered the sewers and looked around. Taking in the atmosphere, he sniffed. What was that smell? He decided to go into the bar first. Seemed like a good place to start. Malone sat down and closed his eyes, waiting.​

​

 

[Agante Potatus]

The sun begins to rise and it is only 15 to 20 minutes before Blackwater wakes up, and comes to life. The black markets slowly begin to empty as people pack up their makeshift stands and begin to leave through the passages in the sewers. If there are any final purchases or talking to do, now is the time to do them.​

 

[SpaceDandy]

Blackwater Sewers/Black Market

****

5:30 AM
****

​

Atlas smirked and poured himself another shot. "I'm always up for a bit of fresh air." he replied. He slide a shot glass the young man and filled it to the brim with rotgut. "Oh, good! May I ask, what is your name?" Karl asked, a bit curious now. "Everyone around here calls me Atlas." he replied while taking another shot. Atlas rolled his head stretching his neck "What about yourself, you have the look of a man with talents." said Atlas noticing that his hands were not calloused from hard labor. He also noticed the medical pouches on his dark green vest and jacket.


"I'm a medic," he responded, a bit of uncertainty in his voice. "Well, that's my 'real' job at least." Karl was a bit nervous, to say the least, however, he stood firm in place. "My name's Karl. I've gone scavenging a bit before, but it hasn't been paying enough as it should. I was hoping another helping hand could solve this problem," the young man would explain.


Atlas smirked and nodded. "The more people the better, the more we can carry...plus we can go to more dangerous spots with better loot."Atlas noticed he still had 3/4ths of a bottle left of rotgut and poured himself another shot and held out the shot glass for a toast. "To new friends." he said with a smile.


Karl took the glass and toasted with his new found friend. "Yeah, to new friends." The young medic would take only a few sips, before setting it down on the table. He was a bit astounded to watch the red-haired man gulp down the whole shot in only a few seconds. "One last question: Do you think there's anybody else around here who could help us?"


Atlas looked around the bar and noticed a familiar face with the dirty hair and green eyes. "Hey Malone!" Atlas yelled across the bar "Get over here and take a shot son, been a long time since you bought some bullets from me!" Atlas slid another shot glass in front of the empty stool to the left of the pair. He quickly filled it up and topped off the shot that Karl had been sipping on. The two large men knew each other well enough considering one made guns and the other made bullets on top of being a few of the bigger guys in town.

Moomba Kommadant_Klynx
Later….

East Bank/Inside the City of Blackwater
****
6:00am
****​

Atlas was almost to Ms. Murphree’s flop house to sleep off the buzz and long night’s hard work. The streets were beginning to wake up as children were going to get water for breakfast or eggs from some of the chickens people owned. The area Atlas lived was less populated then the town center and held some danger as some nasty critters from the river would sometimes sprout up here and there.

 

[SpaceDandy]

East Bank/Inside the City of Blackwater

****
6:00am Continued…..
****
​

Atlas continued down the street as two small children jumped out of a house chasing each other. Atlas smiled shifting the his pack a bit higher on his shoulders as a small boy with dirty brown hair and dirty peasant clothing was obviously chasing his younger brother of the same look with a wooden swords. They would stop here and there crossing their wooden swords in fake combat. While Atlas continued down the street they began running around him. The older brother had the younger one on the run. Atlas stopped them both by picking them up by the back of their shirts. The boys became very frustrated describing Atlas’s hygiene in a rather negative light. Atlas laughed a deep belly laugh frightening the boys into silence. Atlas looked at the youngest boy who was giving him a sharp glare with crossed arm and his wooden sword hanging limply in his hand. “Your older brother appears to be kicking your butt so far.” stated Atlas amusingly.


The young boy scowled at Atlas and replied “He is bigger and stronger than me.” he complained. Atlas smiled at the young boy and looked at his older brother. “Yes, there is always someone stronger than you. Look at your stronger older brother hanging like a ragdoll with you. It's how you use your surroundings and your head. If you want to win you have to think outside of the box.” The youngest brother had a thoughtful frustrated look on his face. Then Atlas set the boys down and they ran of continuing the cat and mouse wooden sword sparring. The youngest brother turned around and flipped Atlas the bird as his older brother grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into one of the rundown two story apartments.


Atlas continued to chuckle as he waltzed down the road. Ms. Murphree’s flop house was directly across the street from the old library. Atlas stopped and walked across the street to the library. It had the old white pillars in the front with a small set of stone white steps focusing up to the large old wooden doors. As he climbed the steps a young woman with glasses opened the front doors unlocking them with a slight struggle due to the heavy weight of the doors. She waved at Atlas as he approached. “How are you doing Mary?” he said with a smile. She chuckled and replied “Just fine, what have you got for me today?” Atlas pulled an old book with a script as a bookmark in it. Mary took the book from Atlas noticing the script in the book. “You know the Mayor does pay me to maintain the library right?” Atlas shrugged “Consider it a late fee, plus i need you to start getting some more variety of books outside of technical manuals and texts.” He chuckled. She noticed the book was the art of war. “Planning on taking over the B.A.?” she said in a joking manner Atlas gave her a lopsided grin and walked down the steps towards the flop-house waving goodbye to her. “That's way too much work..”


Atlas entered the two story flop-house as Ms. Murphree was beating a carpet outside. He opened the front door and walked up the old creaky steps as he began taking off his backpack. He walked into his room on the north side of the building stretching and yawning. Atlas opened the door to his room with a loud creaking and grinding noise due to it being a rusty old heavy wooden door. He threw the backpack on the bed as he closed the door to the room and locked the door quickly. He sighed and quickly disrobed and eclipsed his window with a dark blanket so he could get some sleep. Tonight would be an adventure….

 

[Agante Potatus]

East Bank/Blackwater Community
6:25AM
=
He had woken up 10 minutes ago to prepare for his posts. By now all the grown men and teenagers young yet still old enough to work alike poured into the streets, Ivan Winthers among them. He saw men head up the street to the gardens, men down New Street to continue repairs and the restoration of the ruins, some others headed to soldier training to join the militia, and there were also the medics and engineers and woodsmen of the Blackwater Community, but Ivan and a group of 89 others headed down by the Blackwater to the fishery and shipyard.

When they arrived the guards who took the post came over, and one of them held a clipboard. "When we call your name, step forward and into the shipyard, one at a time. I don't give a shit how long it takes, but if you go easy this could take 10 minutes," the man shouted. The soldier with the keys opened the gates to the shipyard and stepped back, drawing his rifle as the man began calling names. Ivan noticed he had new co-workers, about 4 of them he had never heard of, but as soon as they called out their names he had forgotten them. They shouted through more familiar names like Steve, Vidonio, Maja, and other people he fished with frequently.

By the time they got to his name 25 minutes had passed. He was always last on the list and he hated it. When he entered most people had already started up boats and had gotten ahold of their nets and fishing rods, ready to go out into the river and do their work. There were only 5 motor boats since another 4 had broken down, but the engineers were on it. There were a few other good pre-doom boats that had been fixed by the engineers but most of the boats available were dinghies and rafts, some of which might be faulty but usually weren't. Usually, he thought sadly.

By the time Ivan had got his nets and fishing rods and got into his dinghy, it was 6:58 and he had to be quick. His work ended at 3:30PM and if he caught enough fishes in his long work period, he could get a raise and earn some extra ration scrips. Assuming the Blackwater Authority was.. feeling generous today, of course. "Here goes nothing. If this sinks I'll be ended like father," he joked morbidly. He grabbbed the oars and started to push himself out and towards the deepest, darkest, and coldest parts of the Blackwater, with a fishing rod, a bucket of bait and lures, and some nets...​