Project2

Confess(mouseover-replace:"Confess")[Every day, I [[confessed]]] to (mouseover-append:"to")[ everyone but] [[me]]

(text-colour:green)[hello world]

{ (set: $PinchEnter to false) } {(if: ($KnowTruth is true))[Ad Aeternum Futurum... You know the ways forward now. (if: $HaveKilled is true)[ [[Once more unto the breach...->You've died a couple times now and seen a stranger, who somehow knows your name, brutally murdered... But now you know they're there, and where the soldiers are... It's time for some payback!]] ] (if: $HaveKilled is false)[ [[The only way out is through...->Feel around for a place to sit down.]] ] ] (else: )[ Sudden awareness blinds you as light floods your preception. Your head is pounding, your eyes can't focus, your ears are ringing, and {(if: $HaveDied is 0)[you realize you have absolutely no idea where you are....] (if: $HaveDied is 1)[you just died... You just fucking DIED!] (if: $HaveDied is >=2 and <5)[you just died... again...](if: $HaveDied is >=5)[you're starting to lose track of how many times you've gone through at this point... Man, this is getting exhausting...]} {(if: $Stumble is true)[{ }Ok... you might have no idea what the hell is going on, but there are definitely soldiers... And they are not taking prisoners...] (if: $CallOut is true)[{ }Well apparently calling out gets you shot in this neighborhood, so maybe you should think twice about doing that again...] (if: $Run is true)[{ }Oh! Damn! Soooo close... You know, until the soldiers surrounded you and made what happened to Butch and Sundance look like a calming afternoon in Bolivia... But now you do remember roughly how many there were...] (if: $DropDown is true)[{ }Jesus.... The look on their face... The way their brains dripped down into.. Yeah, you won't be forgetting that any time soon. Apparently you took too long getting behind that wall and one of the soldiers spotted you...]} [{ }[[Wait for your eyes to adjust to the light.]]] [{ }[[Stumble forward blindly.]]] [{ }[[Feel around for a place to sit down.]]] [{ }[[Call out for help.]]] (if: $Stumble is true)[{ }[[Ok, you've died.. But this time you know whats coming...]]] (if: $Run and $DropDown is true and $Stumble and $GrabRifle is true)[{ }[[You've died a couple times now and seen a stranger, who somehow knows your name, brutally murdered... But now you know they're there, and where the soldiers are... It's time for some payback!]]] ] }

You stand your ground, shakily, waiting for your eyes to see something, anything other than the explosion of colored orbs pulsing through your vision.... (live: 6s)[You can almost make something out... there's movement and the silhouette of a person?] (live: 10s)[Yes... Yes! It is a person! Your ears are still ringing but you can now see that they're huddled down behind a wall, their clothes in tatters as they kneel in the mud. They seem to be hiding. You meet their eyes and see terror in them, desperately pleading for you to do something.... [[You take a closer look at the wall they're hiding behind.]] [[You move to join them behind the wall.]] [[You call out to them.]] ]

{ (set: $HaveDied to $HaveDied +1) (set: $Stumble to true) } You throw your hands up, stumbling blind. You take a few awkward steps forward before bumping into something.... You wrap your hands around it, and feel it move. Its a person! Their clothes are rough to the touch, stiff and formal. As your eyes finally adjust, you see shattered ruins and the person you're currently clinging to. You see combat boots and urban camo. As your eyes drag slowly up you meet the hard gaze of a soldier. Hate consumes their eyes, undounted by the confusion in yours. You open your mouth to say something only to feel their rifle slam into your head, throwing you down onto the muddy ground. A second later the barrel of that rifle is all you can see, and then the blinding flash of the muzzle.... [[......->The Beginning]]

You drop to one knee, mud splattering across your leg and tattered pants. You reach in front of you and feel a hand grab your wrist and pull you down deeper into the mud, bringing you to rest with your back against a rough, hard surface. Your eyes finally stop swimming and as the pulsing colored orbs clear, you see a terrefied face in front of yours. Their lips are moving and you feel their hand on your face, shaking you firmly. The ringing in your ears subsides and gunfire floods in to fill its place. Eyes wide and panic rising, the strangers words pull you back into the moment. "G, you need to focus! Are you ok? Were'd you go? This is not the time to loose it, I need you if any of us are gonna get out of here alive." A dozen questions brim in your mind, the confusion plastered across your face. Before you have a chance to answer, you feel their hand pulling you along as they start crawling. Staying low against the shattered, bullet riddled, brick wall you start to make your way through the muddy hellscape, screams piercing the gunfire in shrill bursts. [["What the fuck is going on!?]] (add if for haveDied changing prog text)

{ (set: $HaveDied to $HaveDied +1) (set: $CallOut to true) } A hand suddenly grabs your wrist, pulling you down. You feel mud splatter checkardly across your legs; your pants are torn and ragged. You can't help but cry out in pain as the hand digs its nails sharply into your skin. Before you can do anything else your ringing ears are deafened again by an overwhelming crack, and you feel the hand fall away from you just as quickly as it seized you. Your eyes finally adjust to the light and you find yourself staring down the barrel of a rifle shoved directly into your face. You start to scream and the last thing you see is the blinding flash of the muzzle..... [[......->The Beginning]]

{ (set: $PinchEnter to true) } Your eyes narrow, something about the wall is strange... It looks like a normal brick wall, but... Wait. Those are bullet holes blasted half hazardly across the surface! The wall itself looks like it once belonged to a much larger building that has since been blown apart. The ringing in your ears drops away as panic starts welling up inside you. The sound of gunfire replacing the ringing as one all consuming thought seizes your mind... You. Are. So. Fucked. [[Run like a bat out of hell!]] [[Dive behind the wall!]] [[Close your eyes and pinch yourself, this has to be a dream....]]

Something about the look in their eyes shakes you... What are they so afraid of? And why do you think they know you? [[You drop down into the mud and crawl toward them.]]

{ (set: $HaveDied to $HaveDied +1) (set: $CallOut to true) } Their hands fly up and clamp over their mouth; their eyes widening even more as they shrink down as much as they can, seemingly trying to disappear into the mud. The ringing in your ears finally starts to fade and the sound of gunfire quickly replaces it. Before you can react, you feel a burning pain shoot through you. You scream, dropping into the mud as you clutch at your chest. You try to breath but only cough, warm liquid splattering across your face as a the barrel of a rifle fills your view. You try to raise your hands, but are stopped by the blinding flash of the muzzle.... [[......->The Beginning]]

{ (set: $HaveDied to $HaveDied +1) (set: $Run to true) } The panic takes over and without even realizing it, you're sprinting as fast as you can. You feel bullets flying by, hear screaming and shouting. Ahead of you you see a jeep with soldiers in stiff, urban camo next to it firing into a crowd of people despereaterly trying to get away. You peel off the opposite way, quickly losing all sense of direction as you see more and more soldiers blocking your path... You realize there's no way out, they've seen you now. Your back finds a wall, your hands flying up as the soldiers surround you. They look so angry, so full of hate. (text-colour:#60a6be)["Please wait! I-I-I don't know what I'm doing here, this isn't right! I didn't do anything!"], you plead. "Soja scum thinks it can talk to us, sir!", one soldier yells. "You know what we do to them uppitty fucks... Light em up!" A cacophony of gunfire deafens you as fire burns into you all across your body. The searing pain floods your mind and you collapse into the mud, the tattered remains of your body no longer able to keep you upright. Darkness starts eating in at the edge of your vision but before it can claim you, you see the barrel of a rifle appear above you... followed by the blinding flash of the muzzle. [[......->The Beginning]]

Before you can even think about it, you leap down into the mud. [[You press yourself next them behind the wall.->You drop down into the mud and crawl toward them.]]

Your eyes fly open, and you're screaming with tears running down your face. But.. You're not crying, or screaming.... You can feel the tears, see them, and hear your own screams. You try to blink away the tears, but can't. [[Wait, you remember this....->Waking up from a Nightmare]]

You had a bad dream... You couldn't remember what it was about... Now you remember, you just lived it, but back then you were scared. Your dad sleepily enters your room, sitting down on the bed next to you and pulling you into a hug. "Hey kiddo, whats wrong? Did you have a bad dream?" His voice is soft, warm, and familiar, his gentle hands brushing the tears off of your cheeks. (text-colour:#60a6be)["Mmm.. mmm. mhm... Yea i-it w-w-was soooo scary!"] You feel yourself say the words, feel the tears and the snot, but you're not in control. You can remember this moment, remember your dad, this room... But it's all so distorted, so jumbled. You still don't even remember your name. "It's ok, you're ok. I'm here. Do you remember what it was about?" Of course you do... You're never going to forget. (text-colour:#60a6be)["No.... I just.. I wish daddy was here too..."] Your father stiffens, just a little. You didn't notice then, but now you do. "Oh... yea, daddy wishes he could be here, you know that, right kiddo? He's just so busy at work..." You feel yourself move, getting closer to him and laying your head on his chest and hugging him tight. (text-colour:#60a6be)["I know."] He hugs you back, and you notice a bruise on your dad's jaw. Dark and purple, almost invisible in the darkness of your room. "Ok kiddo," he whispers, straightening the collar on your pajamas. "You always look so spiffy, even when you've been crying... You get that from me." He gives you a wink. You feel a smile spread across your cheeks,(text-colour:#60a6be)["Of course I do, dad. You always look like the bestest, coolest guy in the history of the whole universe!"] He smiles, one of his wide smiles, the kind that made you light up. Like you're the thing that matters most in his whole world. "Oh! You little charmer! Always my little gallant! The world better watch out when you're all grown up, you'll be stealing hearts left and right! So, do you think you're ready to get back to sleep? Or do you need me to stay?" You want him to stay more than anything... but you remember what you said before you even feel your lips start to move... (text-colour:#60a6be)["I'm ok dad, I know how tired you are... You need to go back to sleep too!"] There's that smile again... He kisses your cheek, tucks you in, and slips slowly back out the door. Leaving you alone in the quiet darkness of your room. [[Try and remember your father.]] [[Try and remember the bruise.]] [[Gallant... something about that is familiar...]]

{ (set: $HaveDied to $HaveDied +1) (set: $DropDown to true) } They grab you, their hands trembling. "What the hell are you doing, G?", they whisper into your ear frantically. "They're shooting everyone on sight! You said they were coming but why didn't you tell us they were so close!" (text-colour:#60a6be)["Who the hell are you? Why are you calling me G? Is that my name? Do you know me?", you whisper back, the questions flooding out of you.] "Oh god no, G, not now! You can't break on me now! How the hell are we...." Their mouth freezes mid sentence, all color draining from their face as their eyes dart behind you. They start sucking in air to scream, but their face erupts as their blood splatters your face. They fall back, brains leaking out into the mud, their hand limp and twitching against your chest. You turn, a scream caught in your throat as the barrel of a gun fills your vision. Then all you see is the blinding flash of the muzzle... [[......->The Beginning]]

{ (set: $KnowTruth to false) (set: $HaveDied to 0) (set: $UniqueDeath1 to true) (set: $HaveKilled to false) (set: $CallOut to false) (set: $Run to false) (set: $DropDown to false) (set: $Stumble to false) (set: $GrabRifle to false) (set: $QuestionCounter to 0) (set: $NapEnter to false) (set: $CollectEnter to false) (set: $PinchEnter to false) (set: $Book to false) (set: $Institute to false) (set: $DeeperStory to false) (set: $TimeB to false) (set: $VeniVidiMori to 0) (set: $MemorySalad to false) }

You don't wait for the ringing to stop, or your vision to clear; you're on the move! You dash forward, running into the soldier in front of you. You feel them go down, hear their rifle fall into the mud next to them. Your vision starts to clear. [[Grab the rifle!]] [[Just run for it!]]

{ (set: $HaveKilled to true) } You see the soldier tense on the ground, their eyes moving to the rifle. Before they have a chance to grab it, you kick them as hard as you can and grab their rifle. It's heavy, but oddly familiar... The soldier's mouth opens, your eyes widen, and your finger drops to the trigger. The rifle slams back in your hands, and their head snaps back, the scream dying with them... They're twitching and the mud is so red... You drop to your knees against a fractured, bullet riddled wall, vomit pouring out of you. A moment later you hear the splash of boots drawing closer... You peak over the wall and see four soldiers coming closer, weapons raised... [[Bring the rifle up, and take aim...]] [[Open up on them!]]

{ (set: $HaveDied to $HaveDied +1) (set: $Run to true) } You see the soldier tense on the ground, their eyes moving to the rifle. Before they have a just to grab it, you jump over them. You take off down the street, and quickly see more soldiers kicking people down into the mud and opening fire. You hear a shout from behind you, and the soldiers ahead of you wheel around; their rifles rising to meet you. Your eyes widen, theres bodies everywhere, people screaming, and the rattle of rifles is overwhelming. You feel fire blazing, piercing you, dragging you down into the mud as bullets tear through you. You gasp, air filling your lungs only to immediately be released in desperate screams. You crawl forward, still trying to make it somewhere, anywhere without the pain and noise... You feel a boot slam into your spine, as a kick flips you onto your back. You stare up into the barrel of a rifle, and open your mouth to beg for you life, only to be silenced a moment later by the blinding flash of the muzzle.... [[......->The Beginning]]

{ (set: $HaveDied to $HaveDied +1) } Your hands are shaking, your breath is ragged; this feels wrong... But there's no time for that. You lay the rifle on the wall bringing the reticle up on the soldiers in front of you. You start taking shots, but your aim is terrible. You still manage to drop two of the approaching soldiers before the others dive into the ruins. They start firing back, bullets whizzing over your head and into the wall. You know you should be panicking, but for some reason you start to relax. More and more soldiers start shooting at you, you drop several more but then... Click... Fuck, you're empty... The soldiers move in a moment later, the rage in their eyes boiling. They take their time with you... Screaming, beating, breaking you down until you're wheezing and numb, soaked in mud and blood. You see the barrel of a rifle through the blood filling your eyes, and the blinding flash of the muzzle... [[......->The Beginning]]

{ (set: $HaveDied to $HaveDied +1) } Something flips in your brain and the rifle slides up, the stock tucking into your shoulder as you steady yourself against the wall. You open up in short bursts, quickly dropping all four soldiers. This is definitely familiar and as more soldiers pour out of the ruins you meet them with a steady rain of fire, but they keep you pinned down behind the wall. You drop more and more soldiers but as you rise up from behind the wall to fire again, you hear a click. Your eyes widen and the soldiers move in, surrouning you. The rage in their eyes blazing hotter than you've ever seen before. Something inside you drives you forward and you lunge for one of their sidearms. Before you can reach it, you feel the butt of a rifle slam into the back of your head. You collapse into the mud as they surround you, their boots slamming into you until you're numb and broken. You feel a hand in your hair pulling your shattered face out of the mud. You see the distorted barrel of a rifle swimming in your blood tinted vision, and hear someone shouting. "Ready! Aim...." The last bit is cut off by the blinding flash of the muzzle... [[......->The Beginning]]

{ (set: $GrabRifle to true) (set: $HaveKilled to true) } You know that the stranger is hiding behind the wall, and that the soldier is ahead of you... You drop to a knee, and signal to them that you're going after the soldier. You've done this enough times now, that you don't even need your eyes. By the time they've cleared, you've snuck up behind the soldier. [[Go for their gun!]] [[Nod to the stranger, you'll do this together.]]

{ (set: $HaveDied to $HaveDied +1) } You grab for the soldier's rifle, and the stranger goes for their sidearm. The soldier lets out a yell that gets cut off quickly when the stranger puts a few rounds through their chest. You know where the soldiers will be coming from and you quickly take cover with the stranger behind the wall, directing them to focus on spots you couldn't cover alone. Things go very well, for a moment. You seem to be turning the tide, dropping all of the soldiers in the immediate area, until you see a tank come around the corner of one of the destroyed buildings down the bombed out street. Its turret swivelling toward you. Eyes wide, you grab the strangers arm to run, but before you can turn you see the blinding flash of the muzzle. [[......->The Beginning]]

They return the nod and together you move in for the kill. You reach up, instinctually ensnaring their neck in a choke hold. You feel them start to struggle and suck in air to scream for help! A moment before they can you feel them jerk, the air bubbling out of their lungs as a hot wetness begins to leak down your arms and chest. You let the soldier's body collapse to the mud with a sickly splash, and see the stranger withdrawing a knife from their throat. You quickly grab the soldiers rifle, passing the sidearm to the stranger. You quietly move across the street, taking cover in a thin alley next to a ruined house. As you kneel in the alley, you plot out in your head where each group of the soldiers are, piecing together bits and pieces from your last couple deaths. Nodding to yourself, you rise and lead the stranger with you around the corner. With calculated precision, you position yourself and the stranger to quickly take out each group in turn with small bursts of weapons fire, perfectly concealed by the massacre taking place throughout the town. As the last soldier in the neighborhood falls, you quickly gather up as much ammunition as you can carry, from the soldiers corpses. The few people you managed to save don't wait to thank you, disappearing off into the warren of ruined buildings, their eyes distant and numb from what they've seen. You know it's time to go and signal for the stranger to follow you away from the town, letting the faint cries and rattle of gunfire fade completely into the distance... [[Find somewhere to plan out your next move.]]

{ (set: $CollectEnter to true) } You close your eyes and draw in a shaky breath, holding it for several seconds before letting it out. You don't remember why but this feels familiar, and you immediately feel a little more calm. As calm as one can be after barely escaping a massacre alive.{(if: $HaveDied >0)[ Well, this time at least...]} Now that you have a moment to think, you can't help but recall the feeling you got in that first house. It felt surreal, it felt wrong. [[Start asking questions.]] {(if: $KnowTruth is false)[[Think back to the house...->Close your eyes and pinch yourself, this has to be a dream....]]}

{ (set: $NapEnter to false) (set: $CollectEnter to false) } You look over at the stranger you escaped with. (Add additional text when returning depending on questions asked/TBI variables and alt text for all subsequent nodes) {(if: $QuestionCounter is 0)[ { } [[Size them up.]] ] (if: $QuestionCounter is 1)[ { } [["Do you know me?"]] ] (if: $QuestionCounter is 2)[ { } [["Who are you?"]] ] (if: $QuestionCounter is 3)[ { } [["Where are we?"]] ] (if: $QuestionCounter is 4)[ { } [["You might have missed it when I asked earlier, but what the fuck is going on!?"]] ] } [["What do we do now?"]]

{ (set: $QuestionCounter to $QuestionCounter +1) } They look like shit. And that's putting it nicely. Their clothes are tattered and caked in mud, their hair in pretty much the same state, matted tangled and generally a wreck. They look thin, like it's been a really long time since they had a proper meal. You're not sure, but you think their hair might have been blond once, and their eyes are a dull blue. All in all, very unimpressive. A strong breeze might be able to take them down, but something about them completely contradicts their appearance. You don't know what it is, but you know they're a lot tougher than they look. And a lot more dangerous. (Add alt text for Bloody Groundhog Day run) [[......->Start asking questions.]]

{ (set: $QuestionCounter to $QuestionCounter +1) } "Fuck, G, you really don't know, do you? Fuck... Fuck! Ok, ok ok, ok...." They take a quick breath. "Alright, this makes things harder... but it'll be fine. Ok well, I'm D, you're G, and we're both part of SOJA. And... oh right, right, you probably don't remember. SOJA is.. well it's a lot of things, but for us it's family. And a cause. It stands for the Socialist Opposition's Joint Army, and before you tell me, I know it's a stupid fucking name. What can you expect from a bunch of stoned college students? Long story short, we're surivors, refugees, rebels, terrorists, freedom fighters... whatever you want to call it. Basically we're fucked. [[......->Start asking questions.]]

{ (set: $QuestionCounter to $QuestionCounter +1) } "G what kind of fucking question is that? Did you..." They trail off, eyes widening as they scramble over to you, hands frantically probing your head, messing through your hair. (text-colour:#60a6be)["What the hell..?"] "Did you get hit in the head, or take some shrapnel? God G, you can't say shit like this after M, fuck I still see him, those far off eyes, blinking and stumbling around turning and that massive fucking hole in the back of his... Shit I think you're ok, you're not bleeding. I swear if this is some kinda joke I'm gonna.." (text-colour:#60a6be)["No! It's not a joke I don't know who you are..."] The concern on their face is quickly growing into panic.... [[......->Start asking questions.]]

{ (set: $QuestionCounter to $QuestionCounter +1) } "Jesus, I can't beleive... well this was your idea. We're in your hometown, that house back there was yours, actually. We've been on the run from those grunts after the meetup with NECS fell through, and you thought it would be safe to lay low here.... Still don't know how they found us here, or managed to get past the perimeter. Fuck, I knew it was a bad idea to start taking on more refugees, we didn't have enough fighters left keep tabs on all the new heads... Someone must have ratted us out." [[......->Start asking questions.]]

{ (set: $QuestionCounter to $QuestionCounter +1) } D flashes a grim smirk, and you get the feeling that's a rare occurance. "Oh boy.... where to even start? Shit... You really can't remember anything?" (text-colour:#60a6be)["Yea.... I didn't even know my name until you told me."] "Fuck, well ok... First off your name isn't actually G. We just use a letter cause it's faster and.... well it's easier to keep going after we lose someone when we don't know their name. It also keeps any family we've got left in the MSA safe." (text-colour:#60a6be)["You keep using those acronyms but, in case you forgot, I don't know what any of them mean..."] "Shit right, right... So MSA is what we call the good ol' US of A now. The Militarized States of America. To keep it short, we elected someone who promised to make things better and it seemed like they might actually do it. Right up until a bunch of nutjobs, conspiracy theorists, neo-nazis, corpos, and shadowy elites had their cronies in the House and Senate make the guy's life a living hell. And I gotta say, he kept his campaign promise. He said he wouldn't let anything stop him, and he didn't. He declared martial law, started having their protests stomped out by the military. He showed them what it was like to be the people they were opressing. But he didn't stop, and they didn't either. A full blown civil war broke out, but the majority of the military sided with the state. It was over pretty fast, but martial law was never repealed. He became a dictator just like the people he swore to destroy, only he stopped playing for the camera like they did. That was over a decade ago, I was just starting highschool when it all went to shit. Things have just kept breaking down, theres no cell coverage, no internet access anymore... Nobody knows whats going on in the rest of the country, not to mention the rest of the world. It's just cells like SOJA and NECS that keep resistance alive, doing our best to keep the refugees breathing. We were supposed to meet up with a group from NECS to share intel and supplies.." (text-colour:#60a6be)["NECS?"] "The North Easter Coalition of States, they're a militia. Pretty new, not like SOJA. It got started on the campus of GMU back when this all first began, when universities were still around. Anyway, somehow the grunts, thats what we call the military, found out about our meeting and ambushed us. We got away, but we couldn't make it back to the JC. (text-colour:#60a6be)["What's that?"] That's home. Our base of operations. It's out here in the Red Zones. Unincorporated territory thats useless, radioactive, or just straight up bombed out. Leftover from the war and technically not part of the MSA anymore. There aren't as many patrols out here. But yea that's the quick and dirty version... [[......->Start asking questions.]]

Your whispered question is lost to the cacophony of gunfire and screams, as you follow them into one of the ruins. You both rise to a crouch amidst the wreckage of a broken home, furniture shattered and destroyed, the remains of a meal dessicating on the table, and pictures fading on the walls. It's surreal, but you hear the crunch of boots passing outside and quickly follow the stranger out the back door and into another house. Hours seem to pass as the two of you silently crawl through destroyed home after destroyed home, pausing occasionally to let patrols slip by, desperately holding your breath and hoping they don't find you. The wailing of innocents and boom of the rifles slowly dying as time goes on and you inch further away. Finally they hold up a hand, and the two of you collapse onto a filthy floor kitchen floor. Safe, at least for the moment. [[Take a moment to collect yourself.]] [[Start asking questions.]]

"We need to make it back to the JC and see how many of the others made it out of there... If any of them made it out of there... There's a doctor there that can take a look at you too, maybe see why you can't remember anything. At the very least it'll be safe, and maybe the Fourth Estate will have some idea of what to do now that we can't rely on any support from NECS..." (if: ($HaveKilled is true))[ [["Ok, but these guys better have some idea how to take on those damn grunts... They messed with the wrong person, and I'm not done with them yet..."]] ] (else: )[["Ok... yea. Safe sounds nice..."]]

{ (set: $NapEnter to true) } You make it to the outskirts of town and find a self-storage building that looks mostly intact. Ducking inside, you and the stranger collapse onto the rough floor. It looks like you actually made it out alive, this time, and for now it seems like you're both safe. [[Start asking questions.]] {(if: $KnowTruth is false)[[You can probably take a nap...->Close your eyes and pinch yourself, this has to be a dream....]]}

The journey was a slow one, picking your way through the Red Zones and having to stop every so often to hide from MSA patrols. So many ruins were scattered along your path, buildings torn apart by war, burned out cars.... the cost in lives must have been staggering. Through it all, you just kept asking yourself why. What made all of this worth it? Days passed until, finally, you arrived... [["This is it?"]]

As you and D start to make your way west, you spot a MSA vehicle idling on the road. Approaching with D, you think it's your luck day, until you hear a click getting into the driver's seat... Gulping, you make eye contact with D just long enough to share a silent "Fuck..." before a sudden awareness blinds you as light floods your preception... [["Ah shit, here we go again..."]]

{ (set: $MemorySalad to true) } Something is wrong..... The memories are jumbled, fragmented. A smile rupturing into a sneer. A hand outstretched to help you up, only to morph hidously into a fist the moment you reach for it. Your eyes burn, and you begin to realize that two sets of memories are playing out at once. As if two moments are occupying, etwining within the same space in time. His features elongate, disfugred and blurred by the changes pulsing through your memories. What he looked like, who he really was..... It feels so amorphouse, but you can almost reach..... It's right at the tips of your fingers... [["No! This is all wrong I need.... I have to go back!"->Waking up from a Nightmare]] [[Just focus on one memory... One moment that feels real, that you can't forget...->Try and remember the bruise.]] (if: $Book is true)[[Wait... there! That book your father mentioned...]]

{ (set: $Book to true) } The bruise... The moment you begin to think about it that old saying, "Ignorance is bliss", flashes through your mind. But it's too late now to remain in the dark. Light floods in, and you see yourself opening a door. You remember, you couldn't sleep. They were shouting so loudly... You hang there in the doorway, peaking out through the crack. He looks so strange, even now. He was always gone and when he was around he felt like a stranger. Unfamiliar. He's tall, broad shoulders, and such a reliable face. So handsome, your dad always said you had his looks. But now his face is hedious, twisted and full of rage. (text-colour:red)["God damn it, Steven! Do you really think I have time to listen to you whine about how busy I am? Who the hell do you think is doing ALL THE WORK to keep this fucking roof over YOUR HEAD!"] "Alex, I just.... I miss you, Gallant misses you... I know you're working so hard for us, but so are we. And we need you here!" He sounds so sad, his voice the inverse of your father's. Soft and pleading. (text-colour:red)["Oh right, Steve. I forgot how busy you are being some corpo shill hiding at home doing HR work remotely. What a fucking hero! And what? Like taking care of our kid is some fucking chore, like that's hard work and not the best part of your god damn day!? I would trade places with you in a heartbeat!"] "Alex.." You see the tears welling up in your dad's eyes. You want to rush out there, stop this before... "You know you can.... You can stop chasing that fantasy and just come home. If you want to be Gal's father just-" It's jarring, so loud. The impact sends him stumbling back into the wall. The shock is spread across his face, the fear seizing his features so quickly as your father's hand grips his throat holding him in place against the wall. His other arm cocked back, a fist hanging there, threating your dad. (text-colour:red)["Shut the fuck up! You shut the fuck up! It's not a fantasy, it's my dream, my destiny! I can change this country, I can fix it! ME! If only those god damn fucking sheep out there would pay attention! Don't they realize they keep electing wolves?! If it wasn't for that damn book... I'd be president by now! I still could be if you weren't holding me back!"] You can feel your fear, the tears flooding down your face. The shock of the moment, the force of his fury, finally passes and you feel your hand slip from the door. It swings open, the old hinges giving you away. His head snaps to you, the hate still bleeding from his eyes. You can feel yourself shaking. It dawned there, in his eyes, first. The rage slipping away in an instant. Seeing it again now, it's being replaced with disgust. With self loathing. His arms fall limply to his sides, your dad sliding down to the floor cradling his face. Your father stumbles toward you, his voice cracking. (text-colour:red)["Gal... I..."] You turn away, slamming the door as hard as you can. Running back to your bed, racked by sobs... [[No... You don't want to remember your dad like that... Crumpled on the floor. He was happy that night with you...->Waking up from a Nightmare]] [[Even he called you that... Gallant...->Gallant... something about that is familiar...]] [[Your head is pounding, this... This wasn't how your father was... Was it?->Try and remember your father.]]

Days blur into weeks, then months, as years flash by. Dinners, arguments, all pass by in glimpsing seconds. Through it all a nickname sticks. A screename for a forgotten childhood game, what they called you on the debate team, and finally.... One day, one evening. You're walking on campus, the sun hanging low on the horizon casting long shadows in the golden glow of a blazing orange sky. You remember the class that just let out. You turned in another philosphy paper on moral reletivism and the individual's duty to sacrifice personal abundance for the good of society as a whole. It was those kinds of papers that caught their eye. Being on the fencing team and going all-state in track your senior year of highscool didn't hurt either. His words came out of nowhere. (text-colour:orange)["You want to make the world a better place.... Politics is certainly one way to try and do that, but as your father realized, it won't make a difference in your lifetime. Not a significant one, anyway. If you want to make a real difference, we can show you how, Gallant....."] He was so out of place. Clothes that weren't quite right, an accent you couldn't place, and the things he knew... You didn't say a word, just followed him into a waiting car, and into a whole new reality. You'd love to say it was the crpytic knowledge of your life, or the desire to save the wolrd, but really it was simply your curiosity. You could never turn down a mystery, and he was the most mysterious man you'd ever met in your life. That day was the first time you heard of the Aeternitas Institute. Soon, you'd barely be able to recall a time before it. [[The Institute...]] [[You never did learn how he knew about your father....->Try and remember your father.]]

{ (set: $Institute to true) } It was the longest car ride of your life. The windows were so tinted, none of the outside light infiltrated to the cars interior. If it wasn't for the shift in acceleration or smooth stop, you never would have known you were moving at all. It didn't take hours you dont think, certainly not as many as when your dad took you cross country to see his parents in Oregon, but the seconds felt longer. It never seemed to end, and the silence... It was overpowering. Not a single word was exchanged on the entire trip, and by the time you felt the car come to rest and the door opened, you practically threw yourself out into the unknown. The room that greeted you was pure white, overwhelmingly so. In fact, it was comical. It was precicely what you would imagine a shadowy, mysterious group to decorate with. You couldn't help but let out a snort. From behind you, you hear a polite cough. Wheeling around you see that the car you just tumbled out of has disappeared, only to be replaced by a severe looking women in a jet black suit. She sruck such a discordant figure against her alabaster surroundings. In a soft voice that reflexively drew you in, she began to speak. (text-colour:orange)["Hello, Gallant. Do you mind if I call you that?"] She didn't wait for your answer before seamlessly carrying on... (text-colour:orange)["We've been watching you for awhile now... And I have to say, we're impressed. Physical accumen, intelligent, quick thinking, adaptive, and most importantly you possess a certain moral flexibility. You understand that, sometimes, sacrifices must be made by individuals for the common good."] You open your mouth, a clarification springing to your lips on instinct, only to be dismissed by a curt wave of her hand. (text-colour:orange)[Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking... And I completely agree. Sacrifice is an act one can only perform for themselves. Too often when people speak of sacrifice for the greater good, they are talking about someone else's. When American politicians justified the use of atomic weapons, they spoke of sacrifice. They said the same when forcing Japanese Americans into internment camps, and again when inducting the Patriot Act. But those sacrifices were malicious. The kind of acts driven by fear and blind idolotry. No different than human sacrifices performed in ages long past... Alternatively, when sacrifice is an act of the self, motivated by honor, duty, and love, it is pure. Self-sacrifice is the backbone of our organization. By sacrificing of ourselves we protect the world, ensuring a future free from malicious influence."] She hangs on that last word with a wistful expression. You let her words sink in, and with them came a sneaking suspicion... Her words felt so familiar, and without thinking, you felt yourself asking a question. [[You're talking about time travel?]]

You're older than you were, but not in college yet. Your father is home, a rarity, and passed out drunk, a frequency. You walk into the house, and see him lying half draped across the couch. You roll your eyes and scowl but, just as you're about to turn away, a book catches your eye. It's on the floor just out of reach of his fingers, where your father must have dropped it. You feel yourself creep over, a thousand memories of sneaking around your father flashing through your mind. You gingerly slide the book away from his hand and pick it up. It's worn and battered. Your father hates this book, but he never gets rid of it. He's thrown it out, threatened to burn it, but always he retreives it. It seems like just a typical YA novel. You feel yourself scoff and return it to the shelf. He always gets like this when he reads it. It wasn't until many, many years later in college that you finally put aside your father's memory and bothered to actually read it. It was ok, somewhat sloppily written, and extremely confusing. The plot involved time travel, ridiculous but the way it handled the concept was interesting.... and familiar. There was also a subplot with a man, who had the best of intentions, trying to make the world a better place by any means necessary, only to become the worst kind of monster in the end. You guess that's why he hated it so much. He was just like that man... {(if: $Institute is false)[ [[That take on time travel... Did you hear about it in college?->Gallant... something about that is familiar...]] ] (else: )[ [[The Institute...]] ]} [[That subplot... The man like your father... It feels like your head is going to burst!]]

{ (set: $DeeperStory is true) (set: $TimeB is true) } You try to scream, but nothing comes out. What floods into your mind are more disjointed, morphing memories, until finally, blissfully, they begin to recede. What's left is strange. Memories you don't remember, until you think of them and it's like they were always there. Existing alongside the memory of you father attacking your dad is something different, something all together better. You hear crowds cheering, feel the bright lights as you stand on a stage next to your dad. You look up and see tears in his eyes, not tears of remorse or regrett, but of joy. Your father strides up to a podium, a brilliant smile gleaming on hsi face. (text-colour:navy)["WE DID IT! They said my politics were too extreme, that an openly gay man would never be elected the President of these beautiful, United States. Well, we proved them wrong! Thanks to your support, the next four years will see sweeping reforms, positive change, and a government that is not only transparent, but that you can beleive in! Before I continue, there are two people here I would like to take a moment to thank properly... Steve, love, get on up here with Gal! "] Your dad takes your hand and leads you up next next to your father. There are blinding flashes of cameras, the roar of the crowd, it's so overwhelming and you feel so nervous. But then your father takes your hand. Nestled in between both of your parents, their eyes shining, joy palpably etched into the very fibre of their being, all that anxiety falls away and you can't help but beam up at both of them and then out to the crowd. {(if: $Institute is true)[You this can't be right... At least some of this can't be right... One set of these memories has to be wrong. You have no idea how this could have happened, but one these memories was never meant to play out the way it has... [[Try to remember the truth... What really happened...]] ]} [[Yes. This feels right, you remember this and it's perfect! How could your father have been like that...]]

Some part of you knows... Before you even begin to look. You desperately want that feeling to be wrong, because it felt so real, and you were so happy... But it's not real. When you lay it bare, peel back layer after layer, there in the bedrock is the truth. Your father was a broken man, a man who made his family suffer for his faults... As you do this, and it feels like it takes an eternity, you start to stumble into more memories{(if: $Institute is true)[from your time with the Institute. Memories that feel recent...](else:)[.]} {(if: $Institute is true)[ [["I'm done playing games, it's time to know everything..."]] ] (else:)[[Those new memories...->Gallant... something about that is familiar...]]

{ (set: $TimeB to true) } Years fly by from that moment on the stage... You father's inuaguration, first months in office, and the progress he made in the early years of his first term. Everything is going so well, and then... Pushback. His executive order that established single-payer healthcare was the straw that broke the camel's back. You remember sitting on the rich carpet in the Executive Residence, watching him pace in front of the TV. The news reported protests all across the country as conservatives pushed back against "government overreach". It all went downhill from there. As his term neared it's end, he was campaigning for the next term almost full time. The protests escalated into riots, as news outlets predicted your father winning a second term with ease. They turned violent so quickly... And your father just didn't understand. The people were with him and these extremists refused to get out of the way of the bright future he was building for you, and the rest of the nation. By the time militias formed and started attacking National Guard armories, your father had decided to put an end to it. He declare martial law, recalled the fleets, and all personnel stationed abroad. The National Guard was mobilized along with the Army, Navy, Airforce, and Space Force. He refused to call it a civil war... even as units started to defect. Even with organized military support, the dissedents didn't stand a chance. It was over in weeks. But cells continued to make terror attacks and in those days, presiding over a fracturing Union, something in your father broke. His voice, once so optimistic, rang out with cold determination across the United States one last time before a full media blackout went into effect... (text-colour:red)["For too long wealthy elites, corporate greed, and the alt-right groups they support have conspired to tear this great nation apart and deny us of our potential. No. More. When I was elected I promised change, and a government the people could beleive in, and I intend to keep that promise! The recent unrest across the country has been put down! All military defectors have been killed, or captured and summarily executed. But still these terrorists refuse to accept defeat! So, in the interest of preserving, no perfecting, this country, martial law will be extended indefinitely until these traitors have been eliminated. Once. And for all... Ten minutes from now, all media services, from the internet to radio, from television to even print newspapers, will be spuspended indefinitely. The sacrifices we make today will ensure a glorious future for us all. God speed to our brave troops, and God bless these United States of America!"] [[From that day forward everything changed, but you beleived in your father, and did everything in your power to see his vision through...]]

{ (set: $KnowTruth to true) } All those memories competing, swarming in your head... You were going mad. You knew you had to make it back to the Institute, fast. You triggered your emergency recall device, and were instantly brought back to the present. You stumbled your way to Aeternitas' office, collapsing through the door. She was beside you in an instant. (text-colour:orange)["Specialist Gallant! What... Oh no... I'm so sorry Gallant. They found out who you are didn't they? The pain must be excruciating, I barely made it through when it happened to me. You have to fight it Gallant! If you give in... If you change the past to stop the conflict inside you, you will destroy the web! A paradox will be created and the timeline will be fractured as groups of moments become isolated, doomed to loop and repeat for eternity!"] The second you heard that changing the past would stop the conflict... You couldn't stop yourself. Part of you acted before you could think... before you could try to resist. You activated your perceptual expantion device, barely taking the time to active the buffer. Before she could stop you, you were gone. The part of you that acted drove you there, to the root of the change. Without even realzing it, you had stumnbled upon the very thing the rogue traveller had influenced.{(if: $Book is true)[ He had befriended your father, suggesting that he not read that book... Having never read it, he didn't end up doubting his path](if: $TimeB is true)[, eventually becoming President, and dictator in turn...]} You found yourself in a dark, cold room. A boy was there, silent tears streaming down his face, with a gun in his hand. He startled, eyes rising to meet yours, filled with confusion. He opened his mouth, and you drew your sidearm. The Institute had trained you, of course, and you carried the gun for self defense. You pledged never to use it on anyone, except rogue travellers that met you with lethal resistence. Even so, in all your years in the field, you had never had to use it. Before he even had a chance to register the danger, you pulled the trigger. The timeline shattered, sudden awareness blinding you as light flooded your perception... { (if: $PinchEnter is true)[ [[.....->The Beginning]] ] (if: $NapEnter is true)[ [[.....->Find somewhere to plan out your next move.]] ] (if: $CollectEnter is true)[ [[.....->Take a moment to collect yourself.]] ] }

Her wistful look morphed into a grin. (text-colour:orange)["Hmmm... You are quick. Our motto is Ad Aeternum Futurum, Toward the Eternal Future. And we protect the timeline."] From that moment on, you worked for the Institute. The self-sacrifice she mentioned, was all consuming. You sacrificed your time, your identity, your life, all for the cause. For the next five years you did one thing, and one thing only, prepare for travel. Hours of study, training your mind as well as your body, fly past as the years blink before you. All culminating in a final test... [["I'm ready to begin."]]

The practical questions were simple. The nature of time was, after all, fairly straightforward. Time does not exist in the linear fashion most think it does. Every moment exists simultaneously in space time. The you waking from the nightmare exists alongside the you taking this test, just in different spaces. The inverse is true, with the same space existing alongside itself at different times. All connected, all strung together in a massive web of interconnected space time. For this reason, time travel was never meant to be possible. It is impossible to change time through direct action without destroying the web. You remember asking the woman in black, who simply goes by Aeternitas, how this was possible. (text-colour:#60a6be)["If all of that is true, then how do we travel? What even is the point of it?"] That wistful look slid back across her face. (text-colour:orange)["In the beginning we pushed the boundaries, as children do, just to see if it could be done. When we stumbled into the way of things, we were astounded... The entire universe was at our fingertips, all of time stretching out endlessly in all directions. In our hubris, we glimpsed the future..."] She paused then, lips trembling, as if there was something she desperatelty wanted to say. (text-colour:orange)["The others... They couldn't bear it, they wanted to share what we had seen. In trying, they drove themselves mad. They were the first ot become rogue travellers. They sought to change the past, to change their future and their present. When we first began to see the shape of things, we knew direct action would be catastrophic, but we theorized suggestion was the way to achieve change. So that is what they tried. They went back in time, and tried influencing the flow of time through suggestions to key figures in key moments. What we never could have foresaw, was how resistent time is to change. While direct action would shatter the web, suggestions act as ripples through the web. They follow strands from moment to moment, altering them. Becuase of how connected they are, however, the ripple dissipates quickly. In this way the timeline corrects itself, ensuring any change only takes effect roughly three decades down the line. Compounding that, is us. The Institute acts on behalf of the timiline. We are the echo of ripples sent throughout the web. Calling back to that moment, and eliminating undo influence. Ad Aeternum Futurum..."] (text-colour:#60a6be)["Ad Aeternum Futurum! But... Aeternitas, does that mean we are all at the whim of fate? That destiny is real, and immutable?"] She paused for a long moment for answering. (text-colour:orange)["No... at least not how I see it. You make decisions in every moment, choosing the path forward. But you exist in every single one of those moments, simultaneously. You are always making the choices you made in the past, make in the present, and will make in the future. Your path is your own. It always is..."] Snapping back to the test you feel yourself groan. You might have been a poli-sci major, well versed in ethics, but time travell ethics? Those would give even Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle a collective stroke... [[Despite how hard it was, it was inevitable you would succeed...]]

Upon completion of your training, with the passing of your final test, you truly began life as a member of the Aeternitas Institute. You were given the rank of Retreival Specialist and placed in Team 5 of the Rogue Traveller Retreival Teams, beginning operations in the early 18th century on continental Europe. Having studied world languages in college, and their historical dialects over the last 5 years, you blended right in. Hunting for rogue travellers was a difficult job, the original travellers had of course been retreived relatively quickly, but they had trained additional travellers just as Aeternitas had trained more Retreival Specialists. In fact, it seemed like there were always more rogue travellers popping up all across the timeline, and the reality of operating in the past was far more difficult than your training ever could have prepared you for. Undounted, and with the help of your team, you quickly learned through experience what no amount of study could have tought you. After only 2 years of operation, you were personally responcible for the retreival of over 50 rogue travellers. A feat that had not been achieved since Aeternitas herself was active in the field... You were promptly rewarded for your achievements, and promoted to Reterival Specialist 1st Class. With your skills, you were past the need for support from a team and began operating independantly, persuing the most tenacious and evasive travellers across vast swaths of the timeline. 3 more years passed until you began chasing a particularly dangerous traveller. One with a history of targetting his persuers. You're not sure how he identified you, but once he knew who you were, you were in serious danger. You'd heard about the effects of altered timelines on agents in the field, but experiencing it for yourself...{(if: $MemorySalad is true)[ The moment the memory returns to you, you fully understand what's been happening to you... The flood of conflicting memories is the result of the traveller altering your place in the timeline. The competing versions of these moments have been clashing in your mind.]} The results were overwhelming... {(if: $MemorySalad is false)[[Those competing memories... ->Try and remember your father.]]} [[Those memories... The conflict inside you... What did you do?->"I'm done playing games, it's time to know everything..."]]

You studied, made public appearances alongside your parents, but mostly you seethed with hatred for the enemies of the state, of your father. Listening to your father rave every night over the next decade, you internalized his vitriol. His hatred became yours. And it only grew after the attack. No one knows how they managed it, but a group known as the Socialist Opposition's Joint Army mounted an attack on the White House. Although they were inevitabely driven back, they managed to kill not just your father, but your dad too. As he lay there dying in your arms, you hear is last words... (text-colour:red)["Gallant... My sweet Gallant... Make them... Make them understand..."] You were completely alone. And they had taken everything from you... Your parents just wanted to make the world a better place and they killed them for it! As you tortured captured SOJA terrorists, you learned the truth. The ideals that this group stands for are the very same ones your father championed! How could they do this? How could they betray your father like this! And now... you're going to hunt them down. Every. Single. One. {(if: $Institute is true)[[So... this is what happened when the traveller altered your place in the timeline... It's time you learned the whole story...->"I'm done playing games, it's time to know everything..."]]} [[These feelings... They're so strong, but somehow... They feel... Wrong... And your father's last words... That nickname...->Gallant... something about that is familiar...]]

"I know it's not much to look at from the outside, G, but just wait..." (text-colour:#60a6be)["Guess I'll take your word for it..."] Standing before you is what appears to be just another bombed out building, riddled with bullet holes, set into a mountain. (text-colour:#60a6be)["Where even are we?"] "This used to be West Virginia... Now it's just another scar from the war." As you walk inside, you realize two things rather quickly. First, there's about four guys with automatic weapons pointed your way. Second, this building is just an elaborately constructed facade. Steel supports hold up the shell of a building that was taken apart piece by piece and reconstructed over the entrance to a mine. Quickly flashing some sort of beat up old badge to the guards, D leads you in deeper. Walking down beneath the earth, you begin to hear the sounds of life echoing from the depths. D leads you into a labyrinth of tunnels and passages ways carved into the remains of an old coal mine. Sheets and improvised walls cordon off sections into ramshackle hovels that house hundreds, if not thousands of refugees and resistance fighters. As impressive of a feat as the JC is, you can't help but be appalled at the abject poverty and hoorid living conditions these people are subsisting in. Finally, D leads you through the best constructed door you've seen so far, into a small room with a meeting table. Seated around the table are five people, their ages ranging from maybe 18 to as old as 65. Seated in the middle, and clearly the oldest, is a woman in a ragged, and deeply faded, yellow and green hoodie. As you both take a seat, she stands. (bg:lime)["D, G, we're glad to see you both made it back alive. The few others who managed to make it back from the meeting with NECS painted a grim picture. As it stands, I'm not sure how much longer we can last without the supplies we hoped to get from them... At any rate, MSA patrols are getting more intense and our next move is most certainly to find a new source of supplies and start scouting out locations to move the JC further to the west or north. As our top fighters, we're hoping to get your input on what our next move should be."] D shifts nervously next to you before standing. "Patriot, I'm afraid I have some more bad news... Somehow during the escape, it seems that G had some sort of head injury... They don't remember anything from before the massacre at Hagerstown..." (bg:lime)["That certainly makes things more complicated... We'll have the doctor get to you as soon as they can, but still... You have managed to survive... What's your take on our situation?"] (if: $KnowTruth is true)[ [["Well this may sound a bit crazy..."]] ] (if: $KnowTruth is true and $TimeB is true)[ [["Actually I'm remembering a lot more now, and I have a plan..."]] ] (else:)[["Things are looking pretty bad, but I have faith that if we work together we'll find a way to make it through."]]

As you fill in the Fourth Estate, they sit silently. By the time you're done, they dismiss you without a word. Over the next couple of days the doctor visits you a number of times. Not finding anything medically wrong with you, everyone assumes you must have suffered some kind of nervous breakdown or psychotic episode. Maybe they're right... You? A time traveller? It does seem a little far fetched. D still trusts you, however, and over the next few months you manage to scout out a new location for the JC far to the north in what's left of Ohio. The Fourth Estate, along with the majority of SOJA manage to make the journey north. However, the last of the refugees and fighters were caught by MSA grunts before they could make it out of the mine... From what you hear, they detonated a failsafe device, collapsing the mine ontop of themselves and ensuring no one was left alive to give up the JC's new location... [["They were brave, and we have to honor their sacrifices..."]]

You proceed to lay it all out for the Fourth Estate. Your involvement in the Aeternitas Institute, the role your father played in this version of the timeline, and suddenly it occurs to you why the MSA is so focused on SOJA... The paradox you created when you killed the author of the book... It was you! The version of you that lived through your father's abuse and the version of you that become the President's son both exist in this timeline. When you shattered the timeline, you were thrown to the exact moment you would have been at, had you never joined the Institute. A version of you continued to live as you would have with your father's abuse, only your father actually became President. As a result you never went to college, and ended up joining SOJA, all while this timeline's version of you lived in the White House. That means that when you experienced the death of your father at the hands of SOJA.... You're the one currently in control of the MSA. As you finish your explanation, there is nothing but stunned silence throughout the room. Finally, Patriot stands. (bg:lime)["So, Gallant, what's this plan of yours?"] You can't help but smile. [["All we have to do is get me to... well, me!"]]

You defer to the judgement of the Fourth Estate, and begin integrating yourself back into their operations. The doctor doesn't manage to find a reason for you amnesia, and you eventually resign yourself to never being able to remember. Over the next few months you manage to scout out a new location for the JC far to the north in what's left of Ohio. The Fourth Estate, along with a handful of SOJA survivors manage to make the journey north. However, the majority of the refugees and fighters, including D, were caught by MSA grunts before they could make it out of the mine... From what you hear, they detonated a failsafe device, collapsing the mine ontop of themselves and ensuring no one was left alive to give up the JC's new location... [["D.... What a senseless end..."]]

Over the course of the next decade, you are able to levarge your training at the Institute to teach a new generation of fighters to be lethaly effecient. At the same time, you teach them to only use violence as a last resort, emphasising the importance humility, mercy, and honor. From the relative safety of the JC's new location, SOJA manages to create a wide network of resistence groups that pools their information and supplies. Together, you manage to get a sense of what the MSA currently looks like. The President that presided over the war was killed during a SOJA strike on the White House about a month before the massacre. His kid had apparently assumed the reigns of power in the wake of his passing, and was single minded in their pursuit of SOJA. Together with the other resistence groups, you manage to guide your very own "Velvet Revolution". Mass protests are organized thanks to bootlegged literature, and strikes along with civil disobedience wear down the MSA's supply lines and moral. Finally, a brief but fierce firefight takes place in the White House, as moderate elements within the military join with resistence groups to overthrow MSA, and return power back to the people. As the decades pass and you get into your twilight years, the memories of the Institute become more and more surreal. But as you lay in your deathbed, lauded as a hero and paragon of the "bloodless" revolution, you can't help but wonder... Was this how it was supposed to end? As you feel your final breath escape your tired old body, a sudden awareness blinds you as light floods your preception... [["Ah shit, here we go again..."]]

THE END....? Credits: Me, yeah thats right I wrote, directed, coded, produced, I did all the shits... you know except editing. thats for chumps who aren't finishing this at literally well past the last second

You stay with SOJA for a time, but after the loss of D... It just doesn't feel right anymore. You set out among the various cells and resistance groups, becoming almost an itinerant monk. You speak to them about what you've experienced. The voilence, the sensless death, but through it all the thing you keep finding is an unerlying human decency. When faced with horrific circumstances some people break and do horrific things, but most will go out of their way, even sacrificing themselves, to help eachother. You begin to collect a devoted following, and after a few years, you find yourself walking unchallenged into MSA controlled territory. Even without media, word of you has spread by word of mouth the point the MSA can't just get rid of you. Besides, you're a pacifist preaching pacifism... whats the worst that can happen? A decade later, despite your best efforts to prevent it, a popular uprising storms the White House, and the child of the former President, who had apparently seized control of the MSA following his father's death during a SOJA raid many years prior, was subjected to mob justice. You condemned their actions, and advocted that those responcible be punished, but nothing ever came of it. What did come of it however, was an overhwelming demand for you to assume control of a new government. With great reluctance, you answered the people's call. Together with representatives from across the former MSA, you manage to assemble a new government that lives up to, and indeed surpasses, the best ideals the United States once stood for so long ago... With your job done, like Cincinnatus before you, you retire from politics to live a simple life in the mountains of West Virginia, not far from where the JC was once hidden... As the years pass by, you can't help but be plagued by the nagging suspcion that this wasn't the way things were supposed to play out, that there's something of monumental importance you somehow missed along the way.... Finally, on the anniversary of the New United States of America's founding, you pass away in your sleep. Then, a sudden awareness blinds you as light floods your preception... [["Why does this feel so familiar....?"->"Ah shit, here we go again..."]]

In the aftermath of the meeting, it quickly occurs to you where you will most likely find yourslef. Given what you know, its only a matter of tiome before the MSA figures out where the JC is, and when they do, you have no doubts that you will be the one leading them in the attack on the mine. Over the next several months, you guide SOJA in building up their defences around the mine. With D's help, you carefully train the resistance fighters to make non-lethal traps and teach them how to bring down enemies without killing them. It's hard work, not just preparing, but convincing everyone not to take vengance on the grunts. Finally, the day arrives... [["Time to take a long look in the mirror..."]]

The waiting is almost unbearable, but from your hidden position across the valley, you and D wait as the MSA forces surround the mine. Finally, you see them. Dressed in a sleek white suite, and wearing a sneer that instantly reminds you of father, you see yourself. They bark out orders, directing columns of soldiers to start swarming into the mine. You hear shouting, the sounds of gunfire, and confused screams. The minutes drag into what feels like hours as you watch yourself pace at an increasingly frantic rate. Screaming louder by the second as you throw wave after wave into the mine, furious that it isn't going faster. After all, this part should have been easy. Vengeance always looks so easy... And then you see your moment. They've overextended, thrown the majoirty of their honor guard into the mine. That's when you burst out from cover with D and a dozen of the most skilled fighters. Using the techniques you learned at the Institute, you quickly overpower the remaining guards. As you approach yourself, pinned to the floor by three SOJA fighters, you can't help but feel pity. (text-colour:#60a6be)["Let them up..."] They scream, bursting up from the ground, only to freeze the moment they see you... (text-colour:#9f5941)["You!"] (text-colour:#60a6be)["Yes, me..."] (text-colour:#9f5941)["You were supposed to be gone! That was the whole point of killing that fuck! No him! No book! NO YOU!"] They lung at you then, off balance from their fury. You easily duck out of the way, and they trip over their own momentum. Sprawling onto the ground, sobbing. (text-colour:#9f5941)["It wasn't supposed to be like this.... we were supposed to be happy! But..."] (text-colour:#60a6be)["I know... I wanted it to work too... But it didn't. Just look around, is this what dad would have wanted? Hell, is this what father wanted?"] You offer them your hand to help them up but the slap it away, sitting up and tucking their knees up into themselves. Looking all the world like a dejected child. (text-colour:#9f5941)["I don't know... I know they didn't want to get shot like that..."] (text-colour:#60a6be)["They don't have to... None of this was supposed to happen, and if you help me... We can still fix it."] (text-colour:#9f5941)["There's no fixing this..."] You reach into your pocket, feeling something that's always there, when you need it. You draw it out for them to see. (text-colour:#60a6be)["I have the PED, but without the buffer...."] They sigh. Reaching their hand into an empty pocket, they pull it back out to reveal the buffer. (text-colour:#9f5941)["I... I had to try... I deserved a chance didn't I? And.. and it wasn't all bad, was it? You had a little fun, right?"] You give them one of your trademark smirks. (text-colour:#60a6be)["I think we both know this wasn't the least bit fun, for any of us.... and you did alright, but I think it's time we put things back the way their supposed to be. It was a nice fantasy, but it's long since time for us to get back to work."] They hand over the buffer with one last, long sigh... (text-colour:#9f5941)["I fucking hate you sometimes..."] [["Ad Aeternum Futurum, dude."]]

The End :D Credits: Me, yeah thats right I wrote, directed, coded, produced, I did all the shits... you know except editing. thats for chumps who aren't finishing this at literally well past the last second