Futuristic To Never Question [ValentineIllusion]

[Lorsh]

Minke's Inventory
-Fine civilian outfit [Worn]
-Handbag [Slung]
-Camcorder [Bag]
-Notebook [Bag]
-x5 pens [Bag]
-x3 pencils [Bag]
-Your Citizen ID [Pocket]
-Your Ration Card [Pocket]
-$30.00 certs [Pocket]



IC below

To Never Question

You are Minke Koe, a professional journalist for Henna Media, an "independent" magazine and news publisher with heavy connections to the state-run media of the Autumn Party. You currently work for the branch in the City of Auran, one of the outer urbzones of Sanctaria. Currently, you are in your small office at the Henna Media building, located across from the hospital. One of your deadlines has recently passed, so you have a bit of free time on your hands, since your stories have already been submitted to your publishers. While you are presumably relaxing, or catching up on some other work, you hear the blaring of the city's loudspeakers, followed by the air raid sirens.

"ATTENTION ALL CITIZENS, REPORT IMMEDIATELY TO SHELTERS IN PREPARATION FOR ENEMY ATTACK, RIGHT NOW."


Moorea, the posthuman confederation of greenbloods, has been conducting the majority of these aerial assaults lately, though the actual front lines are many, many miles away. From the window of the fifth floor, you can see civilians rushing to safety as mobile antiaircraft guns begin to roll out onto the streets. It's quite an impressive scene. From the view outside of your window, you cannot see any enemy planes yet, but they could arrive at any moment.

You hear some shouts and cries from the hallways, as well as the stamping rush of many feet. "Quick, get to the basement!"





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[ValentineIllusion]

After wearing her nails down with a long day's worth of typing, Minke used her free time to tend to them, filing the acrylic into a sharp point and painting over them with a sweet, pink polish. It had been a good day's work. She'd taken the short prompts she was given, small bits of information from stories that her bosses assured her had happened, and she got to weave them all together, like an expertly knitted blanket. It was certainly a warm and comfortable job for her, but it was satisfying all the same.

Minke had a rather smug grin on her face, until the sirens began blaring and she could smile no more. The sirens were a sound that had always harkened her back to her childhood, memories flashing through her mind as she began to flee. She remembered being practically dragged on dirt roads, holding tightly to her mother and father as they desperately searched for the community shelters. She remembered the moments when they finally found one, only to be turned away, because of something her father did or was that Minke wouldn't understand until a lot later. She certainly remembered the confusion, unsure of whether he was her family or the enemy.

There was little time to dwell, however. Minke could only take a half a moment to be thankful that the shelter was even in the same building, before she had to hurry down there with everybody else. For once in her life, she avoided taking the elevator, instead stampeding down the staircase with the rest of the crowd. At least she knew she wouldn't be turned away from this one, so long as they never knew who she was.

 

[Lorsh]

After exiting your office and leaving your work behind, heading down the stairwell with many other members of the building's staff as the sirens continue to blare outside. The enemy's wings of steel will soon be upon the city. The rumble of flak is heard as the antiaircraft cannons open fire, and Sanctarian bomber-destroyers and hovercraft take to the skies. When you make it to the bottom floor, you see a treaded AAA gun pull up on the street by the hospital, immediately beginning to fire at the sky.

"ATTENTION ALL CITIZENS, REPORT IMMEDIATELY TO SHELTERS IN PREPARATION FOR ENEMY ATTACK."





You make it to the basement shelter. It's not a proper air raid shelter, but it's sufficient enough, according to the administrators. You're shunted off into a corner as people crowd inside, and the lights are flicked on in the barren room. A few minutes later, you begin to hear the distant popping sounds of explosions, which get louder and louder as the saturation bombers grow closer. Lilliam, a secretary at the reception desk, nervously clutches her handbag and huddles against the wall.

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