Secrets better left buried
Rat has a secret.
He hasn't told John, or Melinda, or anyone. Deep under the city, through the subway tunnels, he has a hiding place. This is his private sanctuary, and his last resort if he desperately needs to convince someone of the truth that things are not right. It's a dangerous trip to get past the subway tracks (Don't want to end up like that ex-cop, Walenski. There was a man who had an idea something was up and Rat thinks it's a shame he only got to speak to him the once.), and a tricky journey even with a flashlight. Don't ask how Rat found this place, stumbling around exhausted and possibly a little drunk late one night, looking for a warm place to hide out. It was last winter, when there was the first snow he could really remember and he was frozen to the bone even huddling in the subway platform, where bored cops would shoo him around every ten minutes for some activity to keep themselves warm. He knew the timetable well enough, and had heard the tunnels widen out a little away from the platform so that there's a safe place to walk beside the tracks. He slipped down with his warming bottle and only a few matches. The matches ran out and left him cursing in the dark until he saw a blue glow...
and followed...
and found a sight to drive a man sober.
For almost a year now he has guarded this strange little spot where the tunnel wall is broken, leading into a place of weird and fantastic machinery lit by a faint glow from an undefineable source. No one had been there for a while when he found it, because the dust showed no tracks. The machinery was broken and mixed with rubble, and he's never felt brave enough to explore too deep. It's been a good place to hide his guitar, or sit and think. It's not a good place to sleep, because the one time he managed to it gave him alarming dreams.
When the sky goes dark and the air begins to feel wrong in a way no one can put their finger on but everybody can sense, Rat heads for his private sanctuary. He honestly couldn't say whether he was running away from the city to hide, or towards that dark secret to see if it will somehow make sense now.
Even before he slips in to fetch the guitar, things feel different. The place is alive, and less safe than anything aboveground.
Rat snatches his guitar and runs back up to the light of the streetlamps, which is still better than that unearthly blue glow. He'd buy a drink if anyone was open, but the city seems to be in a state of mild emergency and no one has time to sell a bottle of scotch to a vagrant. Deprived of this escape, he huddles in an alley and watches for... he's not sure what.
Something is very wrong indeed.
He hasn't told John, or Melinda, or anyone. Deep under the city, through the subway tunnels, he has a hiding place. This is his private sanctuary, and his last resort if he desperately needs to convince someone of the truth that things are not right. It's a dangerous trip to get past the subway tracks (Don't want to end up like that ex-cop, Walenski. There was a man who had an idea something was up and Rat thinks it's a shame he only got to speak to him the once.), and a tricky journey even with a flashlight. Don't ask how Rat found this place, stumbling around exhausted and possibly a little drunk late one night, looking for a warm place to hide out. It was last winter, when there was the first snow he could really remember and he was frozen to the bone even huddling in the subway platform, where bored cops would shoo him around every ten minutes for some activity to keep themselves warm. He knew the timetable well enough, and had heard the tunnels widen out a little away from the platform so that there's a safe place to walk beside the tracks. He slipped down with his warming bottle and only a few matches. The matches ran out and left him cursing in the dark until he saw a blue glow...
and followed...
and found a sight to drive a man sober.
For almost a year now he has guarded this strange little spot where the tunnel wall is broken, leading into a place of weird and fantastic machinery lit by a faint glow from an undefineable source. No one had been there for a while when he found it, because the dust showed no tracks. The machinery was broken and mixed with rubble, and he's never felt brave enough to explore too deep. It's been a good place to hide his guitar, or sit and think. It's not a good place to sleep, because the one time he managed to it gave him alarming dreams.
When the sky goes dark and the air begins to feel wrong in a way no one can put their finger on but everybody can sense, Rat heads for his private sanctuary. He honestly couldn't say whether he was running away from the city to hide, or towards that dark secret to see if it will somehow make sense now.
Even before he slips in to fetch the guitar, things feel different. The place is alive, and less safe than anything aboveground.
Rat snatches his guitar and runs back up to the light of the streetlamps, which is still better than that unearthly blue glow. He'd buy a drink if anyone was open, but the city seems to be in a state of mild emergency and no one has time to sell a bottle of scotch to a vagrant. Deprived of this escape, he huddles in an alley and watches for... he's not sure what.
Something is very wrong indeed.