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bomberqueen17 · 11 months ago

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the saga isn't quite over yet tho

So, the kitchen. Well it still needs painting but also now I have to put everything away. We ate dinner Friday night over at dude's mom's house because all our food was there and also we didn't have chairs in the new kitchen yet.

Yeah. We gotta go find chairs.

First I want to start off with this detail.

[image description: a close-up of the white tiled wall, where it intersects with the ceiling, one of the cabinets, and the stainless steel vent hood over the stove. The tiles are staggered in a regular pattern, but there is a tiny, maybe half-inch-wide segment of tile next to the cabinet in every other row, which I know Jim had to painstakingly trim off and carefully adhere like that, so that it looks like the pattern goes behind the cabinet.] I pointed those out to Jim and said I loved them, and he smiled and said they were a pain in the ass but there's no other way to do it, and I said I would always always look at them and think about what a pain in the ass they had been to do.

Anyway. Friday evening we brought the cat over and she realized with delight she could not only get to her window but also then traverse the entire expanse of cabinet, daintily picking her way over the stove to go over the sink and stare out that window too. She's not likely to get into stuff and clearly did not enjoy crossing the stove, so I'm not super worried about her actually getting into trouble. We made do, sitting at the counter on a combo of the folding stool and dude's work chair which is adjustable to... not high enough but... well at least it's sort of comfortable.

There is a pile of very long trim pieces that is shoved into the living room and is sort of preventing use of about half the couch, so I didn't have anywhere else to sit all evening, lol. Good thing the chair was comfy, and I didn't totally mind it being too low.

But I was resolved that Saturday we were getting chairs somehow.

Saturday morning we got up and got ready, and discovered that our coffeemaker, a Mr. Coffee in excess of 15 years of age, had developed a fatal issue. Dude's mom only has a little one-cup Keurig and so we brought our machine over, and in the move it developed a crack in the pipe that brings water from the heating element to distribute it over the grounds. This is not really repairable. I had to kind of convert it from a drip to a pour-over, and stood there with the kettle carefully pouring water through the basket. RIP Mr. Coffee, you served us well and long.

Dude opened Wirecutter and looked up drip coffeemakers. He also researched stainless steel cleaners for me, and confirmed our itinerary with me.

We hit the road and got to Target before 9am. We got a bin to fit under the sink for recyclables, we got the last bits of shelf liner I still needed, we got a dish drainer (a nice, new, small one so we could retire the large decaying bamboo one we got also 15 years ago). We got hot glue sticks, randomly, because I need some. And we got the Cuisinart coffee maker that Wirecutter had said was the best drip coffeemaker for most people.

Then we went to Big Lots in case they had counter-height stools. They didn't.

Then we went to a different commercial region ten minutes away. (That's how it works, there are little clusters of shops along various roads and there's different ones in different areas. This other cluster also had a Target but an inferior one.) We went first to a plaza with a Petco, to get the special cat food Chita likes that isn't at the grocery store, and next door to that was a Harbor Freight, that sometimes has good rolling stools, but they did not have anything suitable. Next to *that* was a Raymour & Flanagan furniture store.

Well. When we entered the furniture store, we unwittingly passed through some kind of portal, as it was much larger on the inside than on the outside. We wandered, dazed and lost and slightly overheated; we sat in some chairs and they weren't quite right, those were too hard, these had nail head designs on the backs that dude didn't like, these were a dark wood that matched nothing in our house. The saleslady found us and asked to help, and we tried to show her the first ones we'd looked at, which had been sort of close to what we wanted, but we could not find them and roamed a long time, together with her, finding new rooms full of other furniture, lost and weary. Finally she just searched their website, and found that nothing answered the description we'd given her and that she was sure she'd also seen somewhere around here. She gave us her card, and we stumbled back out into the morning, feeling like we'd sojourned a thousand years in the fairy world.

We went to Homegoods, which I'd been to the week before, and they'd had some stools that I thought sounded a lot like what Dude was describing as his desired seating item. So I led him straight to them. They had a total of six stools in their display. Four of them were of one set. And Dude was like "Oh yeah! Just like that!"

So we pulled one out and sat on it, and it was comfortable enough, and the right height, and functional, so we said probably we should get these. And we went over and got some kitchen storage thingies, some lazy susans and a drawer organizer thing and whatever, but then we came back to these stools and there was an employee there and we asked her if we were supposed to just shove these in our cart or what and she was like oh hang on and got a guy from the back to come take them to the front, and he was like "your name's on 'em so just say those are yours when you check out". Bada-bing. We got two of them, apparently Nautica brand, which I've heard of but don't know anything about. Sure!

[image description: a view into the trunk of a hatchback (Subaru Forester), showing two gray-upholstered wooden stools crammed in 69-style to the left (in the progress of being crammed in, there's Dude's arm in the middle pushing the second one), and to the right is a Target bag and the box of a coffeemaker and the recycle bin and all the shit we got at Target jumbled into the corner.]

Triumphant, we set out for home, but there was another furniture store on the way home and Dude wondered if we ought to go see, just to see what they had. So we did, we went in and I beelined for the recliners.

See, the thing is, Dude's mom has a recliner in her living room. And it's the throne, where she watches TV. And Chita loves to sit on it, it's where she spent most of the time we were staying there. And I sat in it mostly because that's where the cat wanted to be, but oh wow, it was comfortable. And lo... when I stood up, my hip was in the right place, and there was no pain, unlike when I unfold myself from shrimping on the couch and have to put myself back together every time.

And yeah my general pain levels were way down the whole time we stayed there, even though the mattress is way too hard and ought to have fucked me up pretty good. And...

shit. I'm the kind of middle-aged that needs a recliner.

And they had one, at Ashley, and it was on sale for enough that the delivery fee and taxes still made it come out less than the sticker said. But they can't deliver it until late January. Which is fine because our living room is full of kitchen furniture and I have to finish putting all of it away.

So. New kitchen and also new living room furniture. But I'll worry about that later.

Now we could go home triumphantly and get started putting stuff away.

The chairs are yet another neutral, but it's a coordinating neutral, they kind of match the countertops, with a creamy-white kind of base color flecked in grays. We have made no progress thereby at choosing a color for the kitchen-- I had been prepared to accept a boldly-colored item and have to pick colors around it, but no. We remain classy, tasteful, and neutral, and I'm going to have to do something about it.

[image description: A bay window with a glossy countertop in front of it, and in front of that are a pair of counter-height stools, with cream-upholstered seats and backs, and wooden legs.]

I think I need a better lamp to go on this windowsill. There's plenty of lighting in the room, but no non-overhead light for this space, and nothing controllable from this end of the room. I'm vaguely considering a tiny chandelier if I can find such a thing, that would be fun.

I also think it would be fun to install some kind of art piece up there in that chunk of wall between the trim and the ceiling, you see that narrow band there? It's like six or eight inches by like. 48 inches. I'll measure it later. A slogan would be funny but I also just had the idea of like, a mini Bayeux tapestry only depicting some other kind of event, not sure what.

I'll put it on the list, LOL.

Anyway-- the really critical things are 1) that it turns out our gray kitchen coordinates beautifully with our gray cat, who is of course the most beautiful, and 2) our gray cat can hop up on these stools and thus is able to avail herself of Attention and Snuggles. (I had worried I'd have to get her a stepstool I'd have to then leave set up, so she could reach this window.)

[Image description: a gray and white cat is encircled within a man's arms on the kitchen counter, and has the back of her neck pressed against his face, her eyes closed in contentment.] She was rubbing her ear against his nose, which is a thing she for some reason loves to do.

So. All is well. I've been putting things in cabinets and taking them back out, and running everything I possibly can through the dishwasher, and to my astonishment haven't wrecked a thing yet I didn't intend to (I already know from being at my sister's that a certain category of plastic container will mostly melt in there but that's fine if you're just trying to get it clean to recycle it, it's not like it gets onto other things). And Dude realized the dishwasher has an app, so he paired his phone to it.

At Middle-Little sister's prompting, we've named the dishwasher Suds MacKenzie, since it lets you pick a name and that's the funniest one we could think of.

We retrieved our groceries from Dude's mom's house and cooked dinner and set off the smoke alarm so now we've really broken it in.

The stove is *really level*. For the record.

#about the author #kitchen remodel

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angelkin-food-cake · 2 years ago

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Jasmine Apricot Macarons

150g almond flour, ground fine

150g confectioners sugar

55g egg whites, one day old, room temperature

gel or powdered food coloring of your choice

55g egg whites, one day old, room temperature

150g granulated sugar

38g water

Jasmine White Chocolate Ganache & Apricot Vanilla Bean Confiture:

365g white chocolate 33%

156g heavy cream

10g jasmine pearl tea

40g unsalted butter, soft

4 oz. apricot vanilla bean confiture (If using store-bought or homemade apricot preserves, add ½ vanilla bean, seeds scraped).

Macarons:

Sift together the confectioners sugar and almond flour, in a medium sized bowl. Add the first portion of egg whites, but do not stir.

In a stand-mixer bowl, with a whip attachment, add your second portion of egg whites.

In a small pot, bring the water and sugar to a boil until it reaches 118C (244F) . Be careful not to splash any sugar-water on the sides of the pot to prevent crystallization. If you do, use a small pastry brush dipped in cold water to brush down the sides of the pot. When the syrup reaches 110C (230F), simultaneously begin whipping the second portion of egg whites to soft peaks.

When the syrup reaches 118C (244F), gradually, in a steady stream, pour the hot mixture into your whipping egg whites (set your mixer speed to medium-low and pour the syrup down the side of the bowl to keep it from being sprayed on the sides of the bowl by the whip). Turn up your mixer speed to medium-high and allow the meringue to whip and cool down to at least 50C. Meanwhile, combine your first portion of egg whites with the almond flour and confectioners sugar. If using, add your food color now and mix until the desired color is achieved. You will want to go darker with the color since the white meringue will lighten the finished color.

Fold your meringue into the almond-sugar mixture, in three additions. Add your first third, fold it to loosen the almond-sugar mix. No need to be gentle at this stage, as you want to fully incorporate the meringue into it so that it is easier to fold in the remaining meringue. Add your second third, this time folding gently, until you see no white meringue streaks. Add your last third, folding gently, until you see no white meringue streaks. At this point, you may add any additional food coloring that you’d like if you need to adjust the final color.

Now, check the consistency of your macaron batter. You want a glossy batter that resembles slightly runny cake batter. It should flow down nicely and with few breaks from your spatula when you hold it up high over the bowl. When the batter falls into the bowl, it should smoothly flow back into the batter in a matter of seconds. If it does not, simply give it a few more gentle folds and recheck your batter. Slowly, keep doing this until your reach the desired consistency.

Line a large sheet pan, with parchment paper or a Silpat. Prepare a large piping bag, with a small plain round tip, and pour in your macaron batter. Hold the piping bag vertically and begin piping 3/4″ to 1″ round shells onto your sheet pan, spacing them about 1/2″ apart. Once you have piped an entire tray, lift up the tray and rap it lightly on your work surface. This act will remove any air bubbles and help prevent them from bursting in the oven. Set aside for 30 minutes to allow a skin to form on the surface. The batter should not stick to your finger when lightly touched.

Preheat your oven to 163C (325F). Bake for 12 minutes, until the tops are set and don’t wiggle when you gently push them to the side. Remove shells from the oven and slide the parchment or Silpat onto a cool work surface. Allow them to cool completely.

Carefully, remove the shells from their surface and begin pairing the sizes up. They are now ready to be filled.

Filling:

Melt your white chocolate in small stainless-steel bowl set over a small pot of simmering water (double boiler). Remove from heat when it is just melted. Wipe any water off the bottom or your bowl carefully and do not to allow any water to touch the chocolate or it will seize up.

In a small saucepan, add the cream and bring to a simmer. Remove from heat and add tea pearls. Cover and steep for 5 minutes. No longer or it will become bitter.

Strain the steeped cream into a clean bowl and rescale cream back to its original amount. Discard tea pearls.

Pour steeped cream over the melted chocolate and using an immersion blender, combine the two. You may also use a spatula to combine the mixture, starting with small circles in the center and working your way out to the sides of the bowl to create a smooth emulsion. The ganache will thicken, become shiny, and develop a puddinglike consistency. Add the butter and incorporate with the immersion blender or stir in thoroughly.

Allow the ganache to cool and crystallize until the consistency is able to hold its shape, up to two hours or overnight. Place ganache and apricot confiture into separate piping bags, with the tips snipped off. Pipe a ring of ganache around the edge of the macaron shell and then pipe the confiture into the small gap in the center. Place on the paired-up “top” to the macaron, press gently until the filling reaches the edge of the macaron. Continue until all pairs are filled.

Place the filled macarons side by side on a tray, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for 24 hours before serving. Remove them from the fridge two hours before serving to be enjoyed at the the ideal temperature.

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reactor-four-official · 2 years ago

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Principles of the RBMK Reactor

The RBMK-1000 Boiling Water Reactor is a Soviet-designed nuclear reactor capable of generating 1,000 megawatts of electricity. The core of the reactor is a short, wide cylinder. The active zone is contained inside a large metal drum, known as the core shroud. The reactor assembly is supported by a large metal disk known as the Lower Biological Shield. This sits on top of a larger metal cross labeled “Structure S”. On top of all this rests the 2,000 ton Upper Biological Shield of the reactor, known as "Structure E". The reactor sits in a large reinforced concrete shell which provides structural support and shields plant personnel from radiation.

The core region of the reactor is a large pile of graphite 14.52m × 9.7m. This pile is composed of graphite blocks 25cm by 25cm, with a height of between 20 and 60cm depending on its location in the reactor. Drilled through these blocks is a 11.4cm diameter hole, through which a zirconium alloy tube (known as a ‘technological channel’) is inserted. These contain either a fuel assembly, a control rod, or reactor monitoring equipment. These channels can be opened in situ or removed completely to replace any fuel or equipment inside them. Zirconium is used due to its high melting point and because it allows the neurons that produce the fission reaction in the core to pass through it far easier than other alloys such as stainless steel.

These metal technological channels have water pumped into them from the bottom by the Main Circulation Pumps. The entire reactor vessel is pressurized with a helium-nitrogen mixture, to prevent the oxidization of the graphite. Graphite is flammable in oxygen, but removed from it it can become quite an efficient thermodynamic conductor.

Below: A photo of RBMK technological channels at Chernobyl Unit 2. The length of these gives a good idea as to how massive the core of the RBMK is.

This picture is a screencap from this video.

The fuel of an RBMK is small uranium oxide pellets, stacked into small metal pipes and bundled together into fuel assemblies. Uranium oxide is a ceramic material composed of Uranium 235. This element, under special conditions, can create a nuclear chain reaction which generates heat. The RBMK has three primary components that help create these special conditions to create the controlled fission reactions in the core. These are graphite, water, and boron.

Graphite is used in the core of an RBMK as a moderator. Basically, it slows down the neutrons discarded by U-236 atoms (a U 235 atom which a neutron has collided with) when they split apart. When they are released they are travelling at a tremendous speed, and have very little chance of coming into contact with another atom of uranium. Slowing them down, however, creates a higher chance of the neutrons coming into contact with an atom of U-235, creating the unstable U-236 and then pulling itself apart, thereby creating more neutrons (as well as several other elements) and sustaining a nuclear chain reaction. This sustained reaction is what creates the heat in the core of a nuclear reactor. The more neutrons there are in the core, the more reactivity (and therefore heat) is created. It should be noted that graphite is combustible at high temperatures. The core contained 1,700 tons of graphite.

Water in the core of an RBMK serves as a coolant. Because the core of a nuclear reactor gets extremely hot, it becomes necessary to cool its components if you wish to avoid destructive melting within the core region. Water is the most common coolant in nuclear reactors, as it is cheap and abundant. The water is pumped in under high pressure at about 265 C by the Main Circulation Pumps from the bottom of the reactor up into the technological channels containing the fuel and other components of the reactor. After passing through the channels and heating up to about 284 C, the water is piped out of the top of the reactor. Some of the coolant water heats up so much that it forms into steam bubbles inside the reactor. When the water is pumped out of the core it is then sent into four steam separator drums, where the steam is separated from the water. The water is then pumped back into the reactor, while the steam is sent to the turbine generators of the plant to create electricity. After this, the steam is condensed back into water using cool water from the plant cooling pond and recirculated into the cooling system.

Below: A model showing the circulation system of an RBMK-1000 reactor. Coolant water is in blue and hot water/steam is in red. The yellow structures are the main cooling pumps, and the green structures are steam turbines. This model is spatially to scale, essentially what you would see if you removed every part of the reactor except for the coolant circuit.

Some of the channels in the RBMK contain control rods (large boron carbide rods) that move up and down in the channel as necessary to keep the reactor within operational limits. Boron is a neutron sponge. It absorbs neutrons and can effectively eliminate a chain reaction. It functions as the brakes on a human made nuclear reaction, useful both in making sure a chain reaction does not become a runaway criticality and also in being the off switch on a nuclear reactor. The RBMK has 211 of these control rods, some of which are under operator control and some of which are under the control of a computer. A design quirk of the RBMK is that at the end of each standard control rod was a 14ft 9in graphite displacer. When a control rod was withdrawn out of the core it left behind a space that would be filled with water, a neutron absorber. Since more water in the core would kill reactivity, the designers of the reactor hung this displacer from the control rods to replace the space left by the control rod with something that would increase reactivity rather than kill it. This was a sound design choice, but it was a major factor in the events of the accident at Chernobyl.

Below: An illustration of the control rod displacers in an RBMK.

Below: A top down view of the channels of an RBMK. You can see the layout of the control rods (green), neutron detectors (blue), shortened control rods inserted from below the reactor (yellow), automatic control rods (red), and the fuel channels (grey). The number on the green, yellow, and red squares are the last recorded insertion depths of control rods in Chernobyl Unit 4 1m 30s before the explosion. Only one is fully inserted.

Below: A cutaway of the RBMK system layout.

Two additional factors also come into play regarding the water. Water is naturally a neutron absorber, albeit a far less effective one than boron. The more water in the core, the less neutrons are present and therefore the lower the reactivity. However, when transformed into steam, water loses nearly all of its neutron absorbing properties. The more steam in the core, the higher reactivity is. This is called a ‘positive void coefficient’, and it was a known quirk of the RBMK and indeed several other reactor designs. However, the RBMK had a much higher level of this effect in its core due to its design. This is important to the accident sequence.

It is also important to note that the RBMK is an enormous construction. It is temperamental, unstable unless operating at full power, and requires constant monitoring and guidance from its operators. It requires three operators just to run it normally, and it was notoriously difficult to operate. The core region is so large that the equipment used to monitor it could not accurately read a large portion of it, and hotspots of reactivity would often form resulting in alarming and unexplained jumps in power output and temperature. While in theory not a bad design, the RBMK was a deeply flawed machine.

An enormous thank you is owed to @nicotinebeige , who was extremely helpful in the creation of this post. If you like film photography, you should check out their blog!

This is a technical explanation of the RBMK design. For a history of the RBMK, check out this post. Apologies for any mistakes! I’m most definitely not an expert on nuclear physics, and if anything is unclear you should absolutely check out other sources for more info. As always, thank you for your interest!

#chernobyl #nuclear reactor #history #radiation #accidents and disasters #nuclear power #autism #nuclear #reactor #chnpp #rbmk #rbmk 1000

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savage-rhi · 4 months ago

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Duality

Chapter 5: The Race

Summary: Sawyer Kiddo has walked a razor's edge as a hacktivist for several years, driven by the loss of her family in the Raccoon City incident. Haunted by past choices and fueled with desire for vigilante justice, Sawyer's work takes an unexpected turn when she ventures to Spain and crosses paths with Luis Serra—a man with blood on his hands long thought to be dead. Together they unravel a web of corruption and face an impending bioterror threat, fighting not only monsters but also the darker elements of their humanity. As they delve deeper into each other's pasts and the conspiracy at large, Sawyer begins to sense something unsettling about Luis—something that might be even more dangerous than their mutual enemies.

Read on AO3 Here

Two Legs coughed as he reached the end of the hole, his fingernails covered with blood and grime. Grunting, he hoisted himself through the narrow passage to finally emerge into a dimly lit corridor. Rising to his feet, he patted his shoulders and pants down while blowing his nose to eliminate the debris that flew up his nose. It wasn't long until he registered the humidity and how the air was thick with mildew and a fresh oil smell. The combination was tawdry, yet it triggered a sense of nostalgia for the old mines back in Los Valdelobos when he was barely a larvae in the nest.

A sad sigh left him as he pushed the thought away. Now wasn't the time for being sentimental.

He turned to his right and cautiously began to walk.

The facility was a strange amalgamation of old and new, where time seemed to have twisted and folded onto itself. Rusting beams and crumbling brick walls stood side by side with gleaming stainless steel and harsh fluorescent lighting. Some areas had not been touched in decades, while somebody had upgraded sections with cutting-edge technology. The likes of which reminded Two Legs of the instruments he'd seen from "the other place"--things that Luis used to tinker with when he was alive.

To say the decorum was polarizing was an understatement, as Two Legs couldn't tell if this place wanted to be a hospital or a factory farm. The contrast made him think of his circumstance with Luis, how they were two opposing sides somehow working together--minus the latter's consciousness being extinguished, leaving only memories as a blueprint to build upon.

As he traveled further, the floor beneath Two Legs feet became uneven patches of concrete, giving way to smooth polished tiles. Machinery hummed in the distance with a low, menacing sound that blended with the distant water drip leaking from old pipes. His movements were silent, his senses heightened, and the urge to find Sawyer gnawed at him. The feeling of hunger and being territorial returned with a vengeance. His mind couldn't stop thinking about their conversation and how his body reacted strongly to the thought of devouring her. How attuned he was to her presence, the way Luis's heart--no, his heart--seemed to have a mind of its own when she stared at him.

Hunt or...?

Two Legs couldn't recall a time when prey had him so perplexed.

Shadows danced across the wall, cast by twitching lights that struggled against patches of darkness. An inhuman growl pushed itself under Two Legs' breath as he tried to ease the storm of thought that ran amok in his head while debating his next move.

Two Legs came across a T junction as he crept deeper into the facility. He looked left and right several times, trying to decide which path to traverse. His right hand rubbed the back of his neck while making a face. He didn't like being indecisive, but both options felt peculiar. As he gave the left one last glance, he did a double-take and then froze. At the center of the wall in front of him was an Umbrella Corporation logo--so worn and faded that it looked like a bloodstain on the wall. He stared at it, a wave of unease washing over him. The logo was a relic of a bygone era, a symbol of corruption that had left its mark on countless lives, including Luis's.

The sight of the logo triggered a cascade of memories, and "the other place" flooded him like a camera rapidly taking photographs. Images of sterile labs, grim-faced humans, and the clinical atmosphere of Umbrella's facilities overwhelmed him. These were all monuments to humanity's hubris and horrors. The logo began to revert to its younger life, and Two Legs slipped into the shoes of his host.

Suddenly, a petite woman approached from his left. Her form a blur of colors rapidly coming together like puzzle pieces. The exhaustion in her eyes briefly extinguished as she grinned happily and waved at him.

"Hey, Luis!"

"Hey yourself! How's your mama doing? Are you feeling better?" Luis replied, his tone warm but tinged with concern.

"Yeah… she's getting discharged from the ICU on Tuesday. Dr. Alvarez finally gave me time off to go pick her up!"

"Que mierda… It should've been an easy choice on her part. You have plenty of PTO," Luis said, shaking his head. (1)

Maria shrugged, her expression resigned. "Well… to be fair to Dr. Alvarez, I get it. Things have been crazy at the main lab. All hands on deck, y'know?"

"You only get one mother in this life… you shouldn't let the chief play around with you like that," Luis insisted, his voice softening.

"And piss her off like you do?" Maria teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Well…"

"Hahaha!"

"You might want to take a raincheck then?"

"You read my mind! Are you meeting with Dr. Clouet?" Maria asked.

"Allegedly. You see, I can't find him. He wasn't at the lab testing site. You wouldn't happen to know where he went, do you?" Luis replied, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice.

"I guess he's in his office combing over security footage," Maria suggested, her brow furrowing in thought.

"Is he ever gonna let the breach go? We caught the guy already!"

"You know Jean, he likes being thorough. Not a single stone left unturned; that's the motto around here,"

"That kind of paranoid behavior doesn't bode well with the ladies long term," Luis quipped, smirking.

"Oh, and what would you know about that?" Maria shot back, raising an eyebrow.

"Experience! Much experience, might I add," Luis declared, puffing out his chest comically.

"Hmm hmm…"

"Alright, breakups…lots of breakups," Luis admitted, deflating.

"You poor thing! It's not your fault you pull devils of all kinds out of people!" Maria laughed, shaking her head.

"I'm well aware!"

"Haha! Shoot, I'm running late. I'll see you back at HQ?"

“Yep! ¡Que tengas un buen día, Maria!”

“¡Te quiero, Dr. Serra!” Maria called out, her voice fading as she hurried away.

Two Legs gasped as he came out of the trance. His breathing was unsteady as he recalibrated where he was, eyes glancing all over the logo to ground himself and perhaps find something he missed. He remembered experiments, whispered conversations, and the pervasive dread that occasionally fell upon the corners of these halls, only to be tampered with laughs and good company. Such was the fickle nature of Unit D--Laboratory 6's sister location.

As he found himself again, Two Legs stood silent. The conversation was a window into a life he'd never fully grasp, a reminder of the connections Luis had once valued. It humanized Two Legs in ways he didn't fully understand, tugging at emotions that should have been alien to a creature like himself.

Luis…

Over time, Two Legs had found the man had been compassionate--flawed but caring. He could feel those remnants within himself like a distant echo reverberating through his skull. Yet, alongside them were the relentless instincts of his predatory drive. The desire to survive, consume, and spread were as much a part of him as Luis's memories--and the familiarity of this place sent a shiver through Two Legs as he looked down at the floor, swearing he could retrace every little step his host had made. As he tore his gaze away from the logo, the parasite couldn't shake the feeling that he too was a relic of a forgotten past, struggling to find his place in a world that had moved on.

You were here before…many times.

The sharp crack of a gunshot abruptly shattered his thoughts, followed by the sound of running feet heading right toward him.

Shit…!

Two Legs breath hitched. He glanced around, looking for somewhere to hide, eventually zeroing his gaze upon a cluster of pipes and crates toward the hall he emerged from. He rushed back the way he came, darted behind them, and slowly peered around the corner of the crate to watch the scene unfold.

The smell of dried blood wafted down the hall, and Two Legs fingernails dug into the floor as he restrained himself from pursuing the chase. The steps grew louder, and then he witnessed a human running like a bat out of hell from the direction of the gunshot. The balding man panted heavily, his right arm gripping his left shoulder, caked with red, and he constantly looked back to see if someone or something was following him. He let out a slew of muttered curses and whimpered until he disappeared.

Two Legs remained still as his senses were on high alert. The vibrations from his tendrils that thrummed in his body didn't detect bio-organic weapons nor others of his kind nearby, but he couldn't ignore the tension in the air. He waited, listening for any signs of danger. The area became eerily quiet again, save for the distant tremble of machinery. After a few moments, he decided to follow the direction the human had come from--unable to stave off curiosity. He carefully moved, keeping each step measured and deliberate in case his senses failed him.

Nothing interested Two Legs until he found a wide-open security door. The yellow orange in his blue eyes expanded as fear and fascination rooted in his face. Venturing inside, Two Legs squinted--given how bright the room was, and while he adjusted, his mouth fell open as he tuned in to the chaos surrounding him--papers scattered across the floor, overturned chairs, and broken equipment. The room was ransacked beyond repair, and near the center of the mess lay a thick pool of blood along with a body.

Wanting to investigate further, Two Legs sunk to the floor as he crouched, then crawled over to get a better look. His nostrils flared as he picked up on the lingering scents of gunpowder, bile, and something oddly familiar. He couldn't put a finger on it.

As he drew upon the head, Two Legs grimaced at seeing the entry and exit point of where the bullet had struck. This human was shot from underneath the chin. Most of the jaw had been eradicated, the sinus cavities left exposed, and the eyes remained open in shock. Two Legs grabbed a fistful of the man's bloodied hair and lifted it so that he was face to-face with the corpse. He studied what was left of the man's features, the scent from before getting under his skin.

"Are you going to keep burning the midnight oil, amigo?"

"If it means there's progress on this goddamn project, then yes. You were late again, Serra."

"I can't work if I don't eat!"

“Je ne peux pas discuter avec un idiot…”

"Hey, I thought we had a truce, Mr. French!"

"That's payback for you and Dr. Iglesias commenting on my ass being flat in your tongue."

"Shit, you caught onto that?!"

"I caught on enough!"

"You gotta admit, she's onto something…"

"Serra!"

"Okay, okay! These lips are zipped, Soldado!"

"Oh fuck," Two Legs murmured to himself as he regained control of his senses. His mind buzzed as fragments recombined into memories, and a clear picture of the man's face--what it used to look like anyway--became obvious. A mixture of recognition and regret surfaced. This body wasn't just prey; this was a person Luis knew—someone who had once been a part of his life, even if just in passing.

Jean-Jaques…

Luis had always joked he was like a foot soldier for the Umbrella executives--a Soldado.

This corpse was also his quarry's adversary, the bio-organic weapons dealer she had tracked.

He didn't understand it, how Humans could so quickly flip a switch and pretend to be someone else or aligned with another. At least with his kind--with the singularity, everyone was cohesive. There was unity. There was…he suddenly felt like a hypocrite, saying this to himself while masquerading as a person.

As Two Legs searched Soldado's lifeless shocked eyes, the urge to consume, to obliterate the remnants of Luis's past and his growing discomfort, was strong. However, he quickly became appalled at the idea. For a moment, he felt something close to grief—not for the man who lay dead before him, but for the loss of clarity, the muddling of what should have been a simple predator-prey relationship. This office, this facility, was dredging up sensations he didn't want to deal with.

He took a deep breath, released his grip on Soldado's hair, and let the man's head drop back onto the floor with a slushing pulp. He intensely glared, letting out an angry sigh. All these relationships Luis seemed to have, all these little continuations, were becoming a headache.

His thoughts traveled to the balding man who had run past him earlier. While his scent wasn't strong, Two Legs instinctively knew he had to be responsible for this. He growled as his eyes were drawn to a desk near a set of bright security screens, three with significant cracks splitting them. He stood up from Soldado's body and ventured over, noting how the area was a mess with papers and notes tossed haphazardly, some bearing cryptic scribbles and diagrams. Most of it looked useless, but he figured there had to be something here that could help him navigate his way out of the base.

Two Legs sighed as his fingers carefully carded through mountains of paperwork and trash. Nothing stood out except receipts and printed emails detailing sales of genetic material on the black market, as well as BOW experimentation from the early 90s. While engaging in its own right, more was needed to lure the plaga into diving further. That sort of nonsense didn't concern him. Maybe it would've been Luis once upon a time, but a dead man's thoughts didn't matter. Well, not at this moment.

He was about to give up and exit until a tarnished folder fell from the desk and to his feet. Two Legs crouched down to pick up the papers that flew out and sit them back where they were until his eyes darted across a familiar word.

Plaga Type Epoch Results Subset A: Group Positive Subset B: Group Positive Subset C: Group Negative Findings & Notes:

Progenitor restored life to the plaga fossils found in the Cueva El Pendo caves.

Subset C group failed to flourish. Progenitor has limitations.

Progenitor cannot revive prehistoric plaga that hasn't consumed genetic material from another creature.

Further tests are needed for the limitation threshold.

Two Legs pupils widened, quickly re-reading the page before moving on to the next as if he had discovered the written word for the first time all over again.

Plaga Type Epoch BOW Results Class 1: Tusk -- Infection Rate: 30% -- RARE Class 2: Saber -- Infection Rate: 44% -- RARE Class 3: Dires -- Infection Rate: 53% --COMMON Class 4: Ursa -- Infection Rate: 2% -- TYRANT Class 5: Dodo -- Infection Rate: 58% -- COMMON Tusk: The parasite contains DNA from a mammoth or a mastodon species it had fed upon in its previous life. The host is over twelve feet tall. Large tusks on either side of the face are used to gore victims as the parasite emerges from the mouth to draw prey inward. They have increased muscle mass. Intelligence is mediocre. A set of two or more specimens forms social groups in which they may become docile for a short time. Saber: Parasite contains DNA from a saber-toothed tiger species it had fed upon in its previous life. Host growth varies upon implantation. A pair of long teeth sticking out from the mouth. Can unhinge jaw to vast degrees. Fast and nimble. Intelligence average. A set of two or more specimens housed together will become territorial and kill via pecking order. Dires: Parasite contains DNA from a dire wolf species it had fed upon in its previous life. Hosts show no signs of growth but more mutations than their fellow Type E counterparts. Males feature a more humped back to support increased muscle to the neck and shoulders. Prone to walking on all fours. Intelligence average. A set of two or more specimens housed together may create a lethal pack. The plaga coordinate with each other. Ursa: Parasite contains DNA from a cave bear species it had fed upon in its previous life. The host shows extreme changes in growth and mutation. A set of two exists. Ursa parasites replicate by injecting their DNA into the victim's bloodstream, causing rapid evolution. Intelligence above average. Extremely dangerous. Considerations for future Tyrant projects in effect. Dodo: Parasite contains DNA from a dodo species it had fed upon in its previous life. The host shows growth regression. Bug-eyed creatures who are docile to the point of discarding. Primarily attack via shoving or screeching. Intelligence below average. A set of two or more specimens housed together may convene in a vegetative state and hum. Notes & Considerations:

They are not as intelligent or socially coordinated as their modern plaga counterparts, but each specimen makes up for it in raw power, minus dodos.

They have a lower lifespan threshold than their modern counterparts. Their average lifespan is 2-3 months if provided with adequate conditions.

They do not follow the hive mind or social hierarchy seen in modern-day plaga, so they cannot be easily controlled unless their hosts are conditioned from implantation onward or via remote access.

Dodos demonstrate hive-like behaviors. Further research is needed.

The parasites are attracted to carbon dioxide. If breathed upon before implantation, they go into a frenzy.

Its hypothesized Type E plaga filled the niche of mosquitoes and ticks during their original lifespan, feasting on the blood from other animals to help facilitate nutrient distribution to their offspring.

Status: Most Type E specimens in Unit D have been destroyed post-Raccoon City, and a few have been sold to benefactors on the black market. Type E amber samples are extremely limited. Facility protocol UPDATE: If Unit D is breached or overwhelmed by intruders, be they human or BOW, activate code GREEN to unleash BOWs from their containment chambers in the lower levels. Either gas them or select code RED to unleash. Make sure to evacuate personnel before initiating code RED. The facility will self-destruct in 1 hour after code RED is engaged for quarantine.

The hairs on Two Legs neck stood high as he glanced between the papers and the panel near him where the security footage was. He rapidly folded the rest of the paperwork, shoved them into the back of his pants pocket, and sprinted to the main computer, recalling Luis's typing skills as his fingers swiftly moved across the keyboard and clicked various files.

He shook his head as a small screen appeared.

CODE RED ACTIVATED: Estimated time 55 minutes

"Oh no, no, no…"

The air around Two Legs seemed to grow colder, and the low buzz of the equipment was in stark contrast to the rapid pounding of his heart. His breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as he scoured each screen, most showing empty hallways and storage rooms. His fingers flew over the keyboard, tapping frantically as he cycled through footage after footage, and then he finally found what he was looking for--his quarry. She was still with the two men who had taken her, moving through a semi-pristine hallway that had to be the midpoint between the upper and lower levels.

Relief was short-lived, however, as his eyes caught something else. In the shadows, barely visible, were two figures moving with a predatory grace. The screen flickered, and for a moment, Two Legs thought it might be a trick of the light. But as the image stabilized, there was no mistaking it—two Sabers were on the hunt, closing in on the trio with deadly intent.

Two Legs stomach tightened. Every muscle coiled like a spring, ready to snap.

He could almost hear the creatures' low growls, the anticipation of the hunt, and the thrill of the chase. His pulse raced, adrenaline surging through his veins as he realized the gravity of the situation. He had to act fast, but his mind was a storm of conflicting impulses—save, consume, protect, devour...

Without another thought, Two Legs bolted out of the office. The facility's cold, sterile corridors blurred as he ran. He couldn't afford to second-guess himself. All that mattered was reaching Sawyer before his cousins did.

He needed to find her.

Notes:

1. Que mierda = What the fuck (or such bullshit?) 2. ¡Que tengas un buen día, Maria! = Have a good day Maria! 3. ¡Te quiero, Dr. Serra!” = I love you Dr. Serra! 4. Je ne peux pas discuter avec un idiot = I can't argue with an idiot

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invi-official · 2 years ago

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Absolutely! Speaking of which... Chirithy says you've been sneaking around the tower's waterways. Please stop for your own safety.

are Chirithys part of a hivemind? 🤔

#you could fall in the water and drown #or get tetanus from a rusty pipe #stainless steel hasnt been invented yet its all iron all the time down there #words of invi

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udhhyog2 · 1 month ago

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ice-cap-k · 1 year ago

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Pan-Pan

I, uh, really got carried away on this one...

Cross-posted on AO3 here: Pan-Pan

_______________________________________

“Pan-pan, pan-pan, pan-pan.”

No answer. Tango twisted the dial on the CB radio.

“Pan-pan, pan-pan, pan-pan. Is anyone out there? This is an urgent distress call from Engineer and Supplementary Technician Tango Tek, calling from the underground testing Bunker 2. Two days ago, warnings went out for a total reactor collapse at Bunker 3. The event led me to the decision to cut power to Bunker 2. Presumably, all other facilities are down. Our major operating systems are barely running and the event inflicted severe damage to many minor systems. Emergency operating systems have kicked in, including the safety back-ups put in place to lock down the compound in case of a leak. Unlocking mechanisms are unresponsive when a manual override is attempted. Total damage assessment is impossible…”

Tango trailed off.

He should throw decorum to the wind. He was getting sick of this. Two days alone trapped in the basement of a bunker would do that to a man. Two days of sending distress call after distress call over the radio, never to get a response back. Two days of flipping back and forth over forty channels, waiting for a response that never came. Two days of not knowing what had happened out there.

An entire reactor had supposedly gone down. The fallout had to have been immense above ground. He should consider himself lucky, but he didn’t feel very lucky. The reinforced concrete walls that encased Bunker 2 were just as capable of keeping unwanted radiation out as it was of keeping radiation contained. But that also meant he was trapped down here alone with an inactive reactor.

It had been days. There may not be anyone left to care about proper call signs.

“Well, I’m requesting an immediate response. Bunker 3 operational status compromised. Bunker 2 operational status is critical. Please respond. Please…” There was no answer. Just the muted buzz of radio static in his ears. “Pan-pan, pan-pan- oh just forget it.” In a flare of anger, Tango grabbed the microphone hanging off the headset and ripped the whole thing off. The padding on the speaker pulled painfully at his ears as they came off at an awkward angle. “I’m still doomed,” he huffed, dropping his head onto the desk. His forehead thumped against a keyboard, rendered useless without power to run the computer it was attached to. “Doomed with a capital D and extra death sauce.”

The radio only hissed unhelpfully in reply. Tango bumped his head against the desk a second time for good measure. The wood surface didn’t feel fantastic, but he let his head rest there for a while, not quite focusing on the curve of the grain.

Get a grip, Tango. You’re not dead yet. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Focus on what you can hear. The static of the radio. He should probably turn that off to conserve battery, but he can’t be bothered to reach out and flip the switch just yet. Behind that is the hum of massive amounts of water being piped into the coolant systems. The steady drip drip drip of water droplets falling somewhere in the background. He let out another deep breath.

The situation could be a whole lot better right now. There was no getting past the door and getting out of here. Not unless he had a way of getting through the steel plating on the walls or clearing out the hallway leading to the maintenance hatch. The one that had collapsed when the building started shaking. He wanted the number of the fool who did the math on that side of the structure’s factor of safety. Austenitic stainless steel was supposed to be able to withstand entire explosions. Clearly, their stress calculations were off for something that was supposed to be designed for seismic activity. That, or someone had cut corners during construction.

He had been working on the hallway when he could. It was a mess of concrete and twisted metal. Clearing it out on his own would take a stupid amount of time, but if he could just see what had gone wrong then he might be able to repair it.

Still… He could hold out down here until then. Nobody knew how this place ran better than him. He had managed to switch off his bunker’s reactor on his own and didn’t come across any issues. You know, besides the obvious ones.

The remaining dregs of power in the bunker could be diverted to dropping the control rods, effectively cutting off the power output. He still had the generator too. Most of its power output was reserved for the radiation detectors, water-level monitors, and pumps. A very small amount of power went to the red emergency lighting, but even that had to be carefully monitored. Even a downed reactor took a lot of power.

Especially when it came to keeping the fuel rods cooled. That’s the thing about radioactive substances. They’re always emitting neutrons. And sure, you can catch those neutrons with control rods before they blast other particles to bits, but you’re not going to catch all the heat that comes with ‘em. You use water for that instead.

Water was his most precious resource down here. Yeah, it’s great for drinking and as long as the faucet ran he had plenty of that. But running water also works great for catching excess heat. And that water had to keep moving in order to do that. That’s why reactors had entire networks of pipelines and water pumps in place, shunting massive amounts of the stuff to be superheated and then brought back to the cooling tower.

Keeping up with the pipe maintenance for this place was taking most of his time. It was probably the only thing keeping him from dying a very horrible death.

All of this just to justify that he had barely started clearing the way to the maintenance hatch and instead chose to prioritize calling for help. Both of which were starting to feel like fruitless endeavors.

It was all fine and dandy for now until he ran out of food, the generator gave out, or the water shut off.

Wait a minute. Tango blinked, pulling himself from his thoughts, only just now noticing the large knot in the oak wood beneath his face. Hadn’t he heard…

Drip.

Drop.

Drip.

Oh no! Something was dripping!!!!

Tango flung himself back out of his seat so quickly, that the chair went clattering to the floor. In an instant, he had snatched his toolbox off the floor and a mask off the hook on the wall. He threw open one door and barreled through another, desperately looking for the noise coming through the cracked open windows. Then he took the perforated stairs two at a time. They groaned in protest with every step of his steel-toes.

Panicked thoughts raced through his head. If one of the Inconel pipes were leaking, there wouldn’t be much he could do. He could weld- scratch that. No, he couldn’t. There wasn’t enough power to run welding equipment down here. Switch off the valve, maybe? Depending on the location there might not be a valve he could shut to keep water out. Not if it was in an important location. He could always seal off the room and hope for the best.

Drip.

Drop.

The spent fuel pools lit the room with their own greenish-blue light at the bottom of the steps. The dripping was a little louder here, though, which made Tango’s already racing heart tighten anxiously. The fuel rods at the bottom of the pool cast a ghostly underglow on the piping running across the ceiling. There was no telltale glimmer of radioactive droplets falling from above. Nor were there growing wet spots on the floor. The surface of the pool was as clear and flat as a sheet of glass. All was still and empty and cold.

Where could the sound be coming from?

He followed the noise through a pair of double doors he had left propped open. They lead out of the pool room to a prep locker room and emergency wash station.

The place was empty, save for a few protective suits left lying on a nearby bench. The angry red glow of the emergency lights made the spare sets of gloves and boots stick out like shining red beacons in a sea of matte paint and cement flooring.

He caught a dark spot on the floor in the corner of his eye. When he whirled around, he saw a slow red trickle coming from the base of the chemical shower, drip-dropping into a gradually growing puddle beneath it. His own eyes stared back at him from its surface, glowing crimson in the emergency lights.

Oh. False alarm. It was just a little tap water.

The wave of relief that washed over him at the sight was immediate and immense. It made his knees shake. He couldn’t help but laugh at his own panic. “HahaHA! I’m so dumb! Hehe.”

Sound sure could travel in this place. Best he gets this fixed up before he could forget about it. With a thud, he dropped his toolbox onto the floor. The Teflon tape had worked its way to the bottom, but the wrench he needed was near the top. He fished them both out and went to work sealing up the leaky threading on the pipe.

Despite the easy work, he couldn’t seem to calm down. He’s wound so tight, it felt like he might come unraveled. The flickering red lights weren’t helping either. Here he was, terrified by a few water droplets, struggling to fix a pipe he could barely see.

Somewhere deeper in the plant, there’s a loud thunk as one of the pumps switched off and another one whirred to life to pick up the slack, and he nearly dropped his wrench at the sound.

“There. All fixed.” The pipe was no longer leaking. He didn’t bother to clean up the puddle beneath it. Doesn't dare make eye contact with his reflection again. Instead, he tossed the Teflon and the wrench back into his toolbox and brushed his hands against the legs of his pants.

"I should go for a walk. Do something else to take my mind off things. Get back to work in that hallway or something…" With a sigh, Tango picked back up his toolbox and went back up to the office.

The radio is still where he left it on the desk. The headphones are still hissing away dutifully, waiting for someone to send something worth hearing over the airwaves. He must have forgotten to shut it off before he ran out. "Any luck," he asks, not even bothering with the receiver. "Anyone out there?" A response would have been nice, but he doesn’t expect one. There's no one to respond. Just white noise. Too tired and anxious to be angry about it anymore, he grabbed the CB radio and tucked it under his arm so he could carry it with him to the ruined hallway.

Who knows. Maybe someone will start calling while he's working?

____________

Four days down here and Tango has barely made a dent in the hallway’s wreckage. There’s a few places he can stand on the cracked tile now, though. A few piles of dirt and chunks of concrete had been moved deeper into the bunker where they wouldn't be in the way to make that happen.

At least he’s managed to devote more time each day to clearing out as much of the mess as possible. Huh. Wait… Was it actually day? There was no way to keep track of time right now. The clocks didn’t work down here anymore. For all he knew, he might be sleeping during the day and working by night now. Not that it really mattered.

He had settled further into a rhythm that he had started on day two. When he was too tired to keep his eyes open any longer, he passed out in the chair he had hauled up from one of the break rooms. It was small enough to fit in the space he cleared, but not cramped enough that he woke up feeling worse than you would expect from a long day. Then he would send out a distress call over each channel on the radio. Usually, he would move some of the smaller bits of plaster and wires as he called. Then he would run his daily check on the pumps and essential pipelines. Something that had gotten surprisingly easier over time. Not easy, per se, but the pipelines needed less babysitting now that the reactor has been stable and inactive for a while. That and Tango was now used to attending to the areas that regularly needed overseeing by what normally would take a team of people. Sometimes there were pressing issues that required rerouting water lines. Once he was certain there were no more major issues for the day, he would tap into what was left of the food supply in the break room, have lunch, and then haul up enough packaged foodstuffs to get him through dinner after a couple of hours of hauling building bits.

Right now, he was ignoring the rumbling in his stomach as he reached into the wreckage and pulled out something that appeared to be on the lighter side. His hands came in contact with something smooth and elastic. With a yank, he pulled free stretches of hosing and brass fittings. Redstone wires were knotted at one end where they had been soldered to a loose sensor.

“Aww. That’s such a waste.” He felt like a little piece of himself was dying on the inside. He recognized the scraps of the pneumatic hook-up for a vault door he designed. Most likely meant for a high-clearance lab or pressurized combustion chamber. Considering how high he was above most of the steam generators, he would put money on the former over the latter. It would have been built into the wall before the collapse, which meant the pistons and doors would be buried somewhere beneath everything as well. Now it was all useless.

Careful not to let the corrosive redstone drip from their rubber casings, he untangled the rest of the pneumatic tubing from a bent aluminum frame and tossed it into the mess of scrap that would have to be hauled away later.

It always made him feel bad to see good circuitry go to waste. Electronics didn’t often behave as predicted. There were always opportunities for unforeseen events. Sometimes it took a bit of trial and error to get right, which took time, thought, and plenty of resources. He had put a lot of time into that design to make sure it would hold up in extreme scenarios. Made sure that the steel would give out before the pressurized air in the compressors would leak. Done extra research to find materials that would be both nuclear and redstone grade….

His stomach growled again.

Yeah, he couldn’t keep working like this on an empty stomach. Not now that he was thinking about wasted redstone. So he crawled out from the edge of the wreckage and brushed some of the grease off his hands onto the hem of his shirt. By the time he made it to the little pile of junk food he had stolen from a broken vending machine, he was sure the rumbling in his stomach could be heard from the very bottom of the bunker.

He sat down in the little chair he considered his bed and ripped into a granola bar. He had just sunk his teeth into his first bite when a soft TINK made him flinch.

It was the sound of one of the emergency lights burning out. He knew it pretty well after a few previous scares. The red lights weren’t made to burn consistently for such a long time, and who knew how old they were before the bunker was sealed? He could count on both hands the number of lights that had already burnt out. It was hard not to let the sudden noise take him by surprise, though.

It was quiet down here. Not the kind of quiet you feel under a blanket when the fabric eats up the sound. The hollow kind where you can hear a leaky pipe from the floor above, or the steady hum of the generator several floors below. The noisy kind of quiet where you can hear every little thing as if it were right next to you, echoing through empty walls like the ghosts of something that refused to go forgotten.

Still chewing, Tango reached for the CB radio next to his chair. He hung the headphones around his neck and flipped the power switch. The familiar hiss of static flared to life in his ears. It was surprisingly soothing just to have that little bit of background noise. The food went down much easier now that he had it.

Since he was already on the radio, he might as well use it. The needle turned in between bites, switching between channels. “Pan-pan, pan-pan, pan-pan. Anyone out there? This is Tango of the Tech variety-” he stopped just long enough to break into a candy bar. He was well past caring about protocol by now. “Used to be an engineer here in good ol’ Bunker 2. If anyone’s out there, I’m still here. Still trapped.”

He let himself chew into the sugary sweetness of the candy bar. Nothing like a bunch of junk food to make you wish desperately for a nice, warm, homemade meal.

“You know, it’s kinda silly that they make us say these lengthy distress calls. The pan-pan call sign is meant for international transport vehicles. Not testing facilities that fall outside of single government-regulated territories. Besides, it’s not like I’m skadoodling anywhere anytime soon...” He breaks into a heavy sigh. Maybe if they had completed the testing phase he would have been shipped out with the equipment, but there was no way that was going to happen now. “Anyway, if you can hear this, I could really use some help. Tango out.” He knew better than to hold his breath and hope, but he allowed himself a brief pause to listen for something. Anything.

Nothing. Just static.

One more bite and his candy bar was gone. His stomach didn’t feel like it was going on strike anymore, so that was his cue to get back to work. He reached down to flip the switch on the radio.

“T…go…”

His finger froze over the power switch. Had he imagined that? One hand still hovering over the button on the radio, he reached up with the other hand to lift one of the headphones off his ear. The rush of white noise lessened to be replaced with the echoing hum of pumps, water moving through pipes, and not much else.

“..... you st… …ere Tan….”

It was a voice! Tango dropped the side of his headphone as the words filtered through. It snapped back against his head painfully. “Ow! YES! Yes, I’m here, can you hear me?!” he practically shouted into the receiver. The other hand felt along the face of the radio for the nob and twisted it back and forth ever so slightly, hoping to get a clearer signal.

He could have wept tears of joy as the voice replied with crystalline clarity. “Tango! It is you! I can’t believe it. We can hear you loud and clear. I’m so glad you’re still alive, buddy!!”

Wait a minute. He knew that voice! “Zedaph!??”

“The one and only!”

“Oh my gosh!” Tango gripped at the wire of the receiver like the lifeline it had become. He didn’t even notice that his fingernails were digging into his palm. “Oh my gosh, you have no clue how happy I am to hear your voice, Zed. HaHA! Where are you? Is everything ok? What’s going on up there? ”

“Whoah, slow down there for a second,” another voice cut in. “I can’t keep up with all that.”

“IMPULSE!?” The receiver probably couldn’t pick up his voice as his pitch and volume skyrocketed in equal proportion to the rush of relief and excitement that came with hearing another achingly familiar voice. At least he had enough sense to move the receiver back away from his face.

Of all the people it could have been, he was glad their voices were the first signs of the outside world he could hear. They were some of his closest friends, his coworkers, and people who knew this plant as well as he did. Maybe even better. It may have been presumptuous, but he could already picture the three of them going back home together to their families. Of playing video games, of him dragging them along to watch his favorite hockey team, and of chatting for hours about anything other than work like they had already done countless times before.

It was really them!

Zed was the one to answer. “Didn’t catch that, Tango. You’re voice cut out. What did you say?”

“Nothing important. I just… Impulse, you’re there too?”

“There he is again. Yeah! I’m here too. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m stuck down in Bunker 2! Where are you guys?”

The line crackled for a moment. He could hear Zedaph and Impulse’s voice fade slightly as they began to talk to each other. It was a little harder to make out, but their words still came through on his end.

“2!? I thought 2 went down when 3 collapsed?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t stop to make sure before I slammed the door shut.”

“That’s a good sign then. It means it was only 3 that we had to worry about. Thank the heavens he’s still alive.”

“Yeah, but that also means he didn’t get out-.”

‘Uh,” Tango cut in. He could hear the sharp intake of breath from both of them as they realized he was still on the line. “You know I can still hear you, right?”

“...either. Right…” Zedaph finished. He sounded a little guilty, even through the distortion over the airwaves. “Sorry. We’re in Bunker 1. I’m going to be honest, when we heard you over the radio we thought you might be the rescue crew coming back for us.”

“Oh.” Tango’s heart skipped a beat. His stomach dropped so deep it felt like it was gone completely, leaving him a hollow shell. If the receiver wasn’t already attached to the headset, he would have dropped it. He let out an empty laugh, more for the sake of filling space as his brain came to terms with what that meant. “You guys are trapped too.” It wasn’t meant as a question. It was a statement because he knew it was true. Still, Zedaph answered honestly.

“Yeah…”

_______________

Tango was, admittedly, just as disappointed they weren’t part of some rescue party coming back for him as they were when they realized the same about him. Once the initial disappointment gave way, though, he was honestly really happy just to hear from them. If they were all stuck, then at least now they were stuck together. He wasn’t alone anymore. There were other voices alongside his echoing through these empty rooms.

They talked for what must have been hours sharing information about their situation. There was a lot to go over between the two different bunkers and the matter of their circumstances.

Zedaph and Impulse told him that they had locked themselves in Bunker 1. Impulse had been planning on going inside to check on a few parts that were scheduled for pre-emptive maintenance and replacement. Zed had only tagged along to keep him company and tell the other man about his latest plan for game night. The two of them had been taking a casual stroll across the grounds when the reactor in Bunker 3 blew. They were looking in the other direction when the portion of the building above ground started to collapse, but there was no missing the way the ground heaved beneath them. And when they looked up it was impossible to miss the massive cloud rising in the not-so-far distance.

The door to Bunker 1 was unlocked. It was nearby and built to block radiation. Zedaph was the first to realize what they were witnessing. He put two and two together first and realized it equaled, ‘We need to get to safety.’ So he dragged Impulse into the closest concrete building and locked the door behind him. The two of them weren’t sure what had happened above ground after that.

Both of them had been down there ever since. Impulse had been juggling the mechanical systems pretty well, and Zed was charged with keeping an eye on the reactor. Between the two of them, they’ve had a pretty good handle on the situation. As good as two people can manage on their own, at least.

Zed in particular explained that they were hoping to wait for a rescue team to come in. According to him, a nuclear fallout is most dangerous for 48 hours after a blast, but there’s still some risk of radiation and other unforeseen hazards. Technically, they weren’t actually trapped. Not in the sense that Tango was trapped. They were playing it safe by sheltering in place.

In return, Tango told them everything that he could about what had happened at Bunker 2 since the incident.

He told them about how he had been checking in on the new control unit he had designed for the spent fuel pool, killing some time until the rest of the crew showed up. At some point everything had started shaking. The alarms went off and he saw the warnings flash across the announcement screens mounted in the hallways. He told them how he only knew that something had gone wrong at Bunker 3 because of those warnings on the screen. Other than that, he didn’t know what happened.

He told them about how he was trapped underground. That the hallway collapsed and he had been trying to clear a path. That he hadn’t even gotten halfway to the maintenance hatch. He wasn’t sure how long it would take him to make it through all the mess, let alone fix whatever damage had been done that was keeping the way out so tightly sealed.

He told them about how he had deactivated the reactor to reduce the risk of another incident. How he had been trying to take care of the coolant systems on his own.

“That’s crazy. You’re crazy. I’m friends with a crazy person.” A small smile spread across Tango’s lips. His chest swelled with pride at the awe in Impulse’s voice. “You’re telling me you managed all that on your own? Even lowering the control rods? I let Zedaph take care of that over here. I never would have risked it on my own. I don’t think I would have risked it even if I wasn’t on my own and it had been anyone other than Zed.”

“Aw, Impulse, how sweet of you. Good to see you think so highly of me.”

“It’s not like I wanted to,” Tango said. He shrugged as well, but they couldn’t see that. “It’s not like I could just leave it running and risk explodificating my face off. Not everyone is lucky enough to have a Zedaph on hand.”

“You too, Tango!? Oh my gosh, you guys are so sweet. I think I might cry.”

“Besides. I’ve got the gist of a little of everything down here. Just because I’d never done it on my own before doesn’t mean I have no clue how it’s supposed to work.”

“Still, I’d consider you pretty darn lucky so far. I know you’re not very familiar with the heat transfer system.”

“I'd say I’m getting pretty darn familiar now,” he shot back with a chuckle.

“Fair enough.”

Something new crackled through the headset of the radio. It took Tango a second to realize the sound was Zedaph yawning in the background. His own exhaustion came crashing down on him all at once. He had been so caught up in talking that he hadn’t even realized that he was tired until now. They had been at it for a while after all. Who knew how many hours he had let pass, neglecting the debris in the hallway to chatter with his friends like it was another night in the group chat. He couldn’t help letting out a little yawn of his own.

“You too, eh Tango,” Zed mumbled, sounding every bit as tired as Tango felt.

“Sorry guys. I must be getting tired. It’s hard to keep track of time down here.”

“Same,” Zed mumbled around another yawn. “I don’t think we’ve got a single clock working down here.”

Tango was about to say something about not having any clocks in his bunker either but decided against it when he heard Impulse break into a yawn as well. “Hmph. Impulse here looks like he’s half asleep already.”

“I’m fiiiine,” Impulse drawled. “I think the time just finally hit me. Give me a second and I’ll get a second wind. I can stay up all night if you want.” The lazy lilt to his voice said otherwise.

“Nah,” Tango says with a chuckle. “I think it might be time to call it a night. I feel like I’m going to pass out too.”

“Go ahead and get some rest. We’ll get a little shut-eye ourselves. Will you still be available on this frequency if we try to get a hold of you tomorrow?”

“You kidding me? You guys are the only thing I’ve heard on this thing. I’m keeping it on this frequency for good as far as I’m concerned. The others might as well be dead to me.”

That got a laugh out of Zed. It almost drowned out a much fainter noise in the background. Something Tango couldn’t place at first. Something rhythmic and slow, like breathing. Like… “Uh… Is that Impulse snoring?”

“Yeah. He’s already out like a light. Lasted all of ten seconds.”

That was shockingly fast.

“Welp! We’ll keep our radio on this frequency as well. I think I’m going to join Impulse off in dreamland. Have a good night, Tango.”

“Night Zed…” The speakers in the headset remained silent when Zedaph didn’t reply. The silence hung for a heartbeat as his friend most likely reached for the switch to shut off the equipment, and then the familiar buzz of empty static filtered through. They were gone.

The sounds of the bunker came rushing back into focus with the silence. The hum of motors the buzz of the emergency lights and the subtle sound of his own breathing making themselves loud and clear.

Tango found himself curling up deeper into his chair. It was getting harder to keep his eyes open. He let the headset rest in his lap, the bulk of the radio left on the floor within arm’s reach. He had a feeling that tonight would be filled with good dreams.

____________________

The next two days were better. A lot better. It was nice to have Zed and Impulse to keep him company. It was a bit cumbersome to haul the old CB radio around the bunker with him when he went on his rounds, but it was worth it to have them one quick call away. He finally had someone he could bounce his thoughts off of. Impulse was always quick with advice when he was worried about the pipes. Zed was even quicker to make him smile with a joke and wash his worries away when he started panicking about all the wrong things. Weird stuff dripping from a pipe? No worries. It’s just condensation, not a leak. Another light went out? Good thing there’s a whole box full of replacements on the second floor. Tango was even able to help them with some things, like overriding the electronic locks on one of the labs.

Then, as if the world was out to spite him, things started spiraling out of his control.

One of the pumps was losing head pressure, and it was causing a slower flow rate.

In other words, the water in the pipeline was slowing down. Slower pipe-flow meant the water flowing through the reactor would be coming out hotter than it should be. If the pump degraded anymore, the water would stop moving and whatever was in the pipe inside of the reactor would keep heating up. It would eventually become so hot it would try to expand and become steam. The pressure inside the pipe would be immense, and the pipe would probably burst. Tango really didn’t want that to happen.

The thing is, though, Tango wasn’t sure how to fix that. He knew the basics of how to work a pump, but that was about it. He was an engineer first and a technician second. He never had to know the workarounds for keeping a pump running while also improving head pressure that really had no apparent reason to be dropping. If he could reduce the sheer amount of pipe length the water had to go through, that could help. If he could introduce a new pump into the system, that could help. But he didn’t have spare piping or a replacement pump that could keep up with that sort of power. He couldn’t risk shutting down the water for the time it would take to play around with pipe lengths. None of those were possible options right now. He wished someone had left a manual lying around, although it probably wouldn’t be much help.

He thought it might be possible that air was getting into the system. He risked shutting down the pump for less than a minute to check the inlet, but didn’t see any leaks. If air was getting in, there had to be a leak somewhere.

He really hoped that wasn’t the case. He could even partially convince himself that wasn’t the case since he had been monitoring the pipelines so closely. Still, he couldn’t account for leaks occurring in the underground pipes.

So he explained his predicament to Zedaph and Impulse. Mostly to Impulse, since he was the one with more experience on the matter.

“You didn’t happen to add any piping to the system,” Zed asked half teasingly.

“No,” Tango snapped, entirely serious. “I’m not about to go making things worse. I haven’t even tried rerouting the water flow. That will just make the path it travels longer too.”

“How’d the motor look,” Impulse asked over a snickering Zed. “Any signs of it burning out?”

“The motor was fine too, as far as I can tell. There was a weird clanking noise earlier that I couldn’t pinpoint, but that stopped a while ago.”

“Oooh, I bet you the impeller broke.” Tango could practically hear his friend nodding to himself. “One of the fins probably broke off and is floating around in the system.”

Zed snorted on the other side of the line. “That’s a thing that can happen?!?”

“Sure. All parts are made to break eventually. You’re just supposed to replace it before it reaches the end of its cycle life. Sometimes a part has an internal defect that speeds up that process.”

“What am I supposed to do about that then?” Tango asked.

“That depends. Do you have an extra impeller lying around?”

Tango thought back to every storage room he had gone through during his rounds. He had gone through plenty of supply closets while he was stuck down there, looking for spare parts and tools. He would have noticed if there had been a loose impeller just lying around. “No. I mean, I don’t think so. I haven’t seen one down here.”

“What about another pump?”

That was something he had seen. There had been a small pump hanging out of a box. “Yeah actually. A small one. Like, really small. Will that work as a replacement? I thought smaller ones didn’t have as much oomph?”

“Normally they don’t, but if we can hook that one up in succession with the other it can give things a boost.”

“That’s a thing?!?”

“Will the two of you stop that?” Impulse snorted. “Yes, it’s a thing. It will help with the head pressure, and keep the water flowing.”

“That’s all I need.”

“Good. Now go grab that pump. I’ll walk you through the installation.”

“Thanks, buddy. You’re a lifesaver!”

Before he could grab the CB radio and rush off to the nearest supply closet, though, Zed spoke up. “Hey, uh, I don’t mean to be that guy that questions everything…”

“But…?”

“But what about the broken impeller?”

Tango froze. “What about it?”

“Well, it’s still broken. Aren’t there still the broken bits floating around somewhere? I might be wrong, but wouldn’t that cause issues at some point?”

“Well…”

Tango’s heart skipped a beat. “I don’t like the sound of that ‘well.’”

“Ok, yes that is true. If the impeller really did give out, then yeah. There are pieces of it floating around in the pipes. Best case scenario, the water is moving slow enough that it doesn’t carry them very far and they settle at the bottom of some pipe.”

“And worst case scenario…” Tango asks tentatively.

“That’s a bit harder to say, but it is possible it keeps floating around and gets caught in something important. Like the pumps. There’s a non-zero chance it might end up back in there and bust it up even more.”

“Okay…” Tango’s brain started racing. He was already kicking back into ‘problem-solving’ mode. More damage to the pump would mean a bigger drop in pressure. It might even take the pump out of commission completely. “That would be all sorts of bad with extra bad sauce. Is there a filter or something where they might get caught?”

For a moment, Impulse doesn’t answer. Tango assumed the other man is simply taking his time to answer. Likely trying to run through the map of the coolant system in his head. Then Zedaph spoke up. “Use your words Impulse,” Zed says after a pause. “He can’t see you shaking your head.”

“Sorry. I forgot for a second there. I don’t think so. I know they wouldn’t have used a sediment trap, but I’m not sure if they would have added a strainer anywhere.”

Tango could work with that. “Then I’ll look for one. I only have one extra pump. I can’t let one of the ones keeping the water scooting go caput on me. You can describe what it’s supposed to look like and I can check for it after we finish with the other pipe.”

At least there was still a chance that he wouldn’t have to worry about the impeller causing more problems. He was already on the move. The CB radio was tucked uncomfortably under one arm as he walked. He would have to grab his toolbox from the office after the pump, but there was no way he was going to be able to carry everything down at once. He would have to make a few trips, leaving either the radio or the pump downstairs when he went to get his tools.

“And I take it that if there isn’t one, Tango’s still running the risk of more damage,” Zed asked.

“More or less.”

“I see. In that case, I’m going to go crunch some numbers.” A high-pitched squeak like a chair scraping across tile filtered through the radio. The noise was so awful Tango had to shift the ear pads of the headset to hang around his neck.

“Zed, where are you going, man?” Impulse’s surprised shout sounded a little less clear now that the speakers weren’t pressed to Tango’s ears.

Tango silently wished for the umpteenth time that he could see them instead of just hearing them. “What’s happening,” he asked. “Don’t leave me in the dark guessing.”

“I don’t know. He just ran out.”

“Should you go check on him?”

“I… You know what? Nah. He’ll be fine for now. Let’s get you squared away first and then I’ll check in on him after.”

Impulse was probably right. All three of them had a tendency to get lost in their own thoughts and sucked into personal projects. Something they said had given Zed an idea, and he was probably off to go puzzle over it until he could come to his own answers. Besides, he had more pressing matters to attend to.

“If you say so. I’m already at the supply closet anyway. Let’s figure this out.”

________________

“Ok Tango, remember when I said you were crazy? I take it back,” Impulse said. Even over the radio, Tango could hear the sheer disbelief in his friend’s voice. “You’re not that crazy after all. Clearly Zed has you beat.”

“Excuse me, I take offense to that.”

“No Zed,” Tango chimed in. “He’s right. That sounds like a surefire way to get killed. Or lost. Or any number of terrible, horrible things.”

“But not from radiation poisoning!”

“It still sounds dumb.”

“Thank you for agreeing with me on this, Tango.” Impulse sounded really tired. It made Tango wonder how long they were discussing this before calling him.

“But Tango needs help and he’s going to need it soon. I heard about your little ‘I spy’ trip through the bunker. You never found a filter, did you.”

Tango flinched. “No…”

“Nor does he have another pump in case anything else goes wrong. And, might I add that Tango can’t leave whenever he wants like we can. But if we just go and get help-”

“You’re talking about trekking through a nuclear detonation site!”

“It’s been days,” Zedaph insisted a little more firmly. “A week, even. By now the bulk of the nuclear fallout will have passed. The smaller airborne particles will have settled, the radionuclides will have mostly decayed away, and the leftover radiation levels will be fairly low. We shouldn’t go, you know, ingesting anything while we’re out there. Just in case. But I can jimmy together some sealed suits if it makes you feel better. We can pack some food and bottle some water to find help without too much worry.”

“I don’t think we should be jumping to such risky conclusions, Zed. Even without the radiation risks, what about if one of us gets hurt? We’re miles from civilization.”

“If you’re that worried about it, you don’t have to come along, Impulse. It’s alright if you want to stay here. I can just go on my own-”

“Nuh-uh. No way. Don’t even bother finishing that sentence. That’s even worse. Of course, you’re not going alone out there.”

“Good! Then it’s decided. The two of us are going to go find help.”

Impulse made a strangled noise. Tango could just imagine the myriad of emotions flashing across his face. They couldn’t be much different from the clashing emotions he was experiencing.

Personally, he doesn’t like this idea one bit. If they went in search of help, that meant traveling through a stretch of land that could technically be considered survivable but was still recovering from massive nuclear destruction. Who knew how the surrounding area had been affected? And Zed was suggesting they do it for the sake of helping Tango. Tango, who couldn’t go after them. Tango, who would be helpless and unable to do anything if something went wrong. Tango, who would absolutely blame himself for anything bad that might happen, and was already in the process of feeling extremely guilty for making them think they needed to take this risk for him.

If they did this, he would be on his own again. Left alone to live on a prayer.

“You don’t have to do that.” Tango’s voice is shaking. He hopes the static of the radio helps to cover that up on their end. “The pressure is stable for now. I’ve been holding down the fort for this long. I can hold out a bit longer while I clear this hall.”

“It’s not like we can stick around here forever anyway. They’re not coming back for us. ”

Tango can hear Impulse’s breath hitch. He had to suppress a shudder of his own at Zedaph’s bluntness. It wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed his mind that they had been left for dead. He had just about resigned himself to the fact before he first heard Zed’s voice through the radio speakers. But it was a thought he had pushed to the back of his mind when he found out his friends were there as well.

“I’m sorry…” Zed’s voice startled Tango out of his own thoughts. His friend sounded sad. Almost remorseful. It made him wonder if it was because of whatever reaction Impulse might have had. “But it’s been too long. The largest risk occurs during the first 48 hours. If they didn’t come looking for survivors after that, then it must be because they assumed there were none left to save. And if they HAD come looking, then they missed us. It’s not like any of us were supposed to be in these bunkers at the time anyway. We were all here early.”

Impulse sighed on the other end of the line. “I guess you do have a point.”

“You’re not actually considering this, Impulse,” Tango asked nervously. He could feel his chest tighten at the thought of them going up there, leaving him behind in his dark hole while they ran into… he didn’t even know what. Danger. Definitely some sort of danger.

“Oh, to be clear, I still think this is a bad idea. But…” Of course, there was a ‘but.’ Why did there always have to be a ‘but?’ “He’s making some good points. He IS the expert on the subject, and I can’t just let him go alone.”

“But if you guys leave, then I’ll be alone. Again.”

There’s a loaded silence where none of them spoke. They don’t have to. Tango could practically hear the thoughts in their head. He just knows them that well. ‘You’re already alone,’ they’re thinking to themselves. ‘We’re not really there. And we couldn’t get to you if we needed to.’ That was the problem with this entire situation after all.

He tries again. “What if something goes wrong with the pump after you leave? I won’t be able to ask you about it, Impulse.”

“We’re going to bring the radio with us,” Zed assured him quickly. “Sure, we’ll be more focused on finding civilization, but if it’s an emergency we’ll be able to stop and answer the call.”

“I’m starting to think he’s right, Tango. I think we should go. Especially if you end up having more trouble. There’s only so much I can do to help you over the radio. And as much as I hate to think about it, me and Zed are going to have to leave the bunker at some point.”

“The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get you out of there,” Zed says, and he says it with confidence. Tango gripped at the wire connecting the headset to his radio. There was logic in their words. It was fairly sound logic too, or Impulse wouldn’t have given in so easily. They were good at logic and had already made up their minds. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

_________________

“I suppose there’s no way for me to talk you out of this, huh?”

“You still have a mountain of trash in front of that maintenance hatch?”

Tango lets out a defeated sigh. He’s standing in front of said ‘mountain,’ getting ready to start working at it for the day. He still has a long way to go. But his friends were preparing to leave. They had spent a full day preparing water and packing away whatever food they could scrounge up from a break room. Zed even told Tango about the sealed suits he had put together with duct tape and plastic cover-alls. They were ready.

There wouldn’t be much more for Tango to do other than get back to work once the radio went silent. It would give him something else to focus on, at least. Something other than worrying about their safety. Something other than the fear that they might not come back.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Then you focus on that, buddy,” Impulse soothes. “Try to clear out as much as you can for when we come back. With any luck, we’ll have an army of people with us to help dig you out.”

“Yeah. Sure. Just you wait. By the time you guys come back, I’ll have this whole place spotless,” he tries to joke. They don’t laugh, but he hopes that maybe there’s a growing smile or two that he can’t see.

“Alright Tango,” Zed says. His voice sounds odd and distorted through the respirator mask he is pulling over his face. “As you know, we’re bringing the radio. The main problem is that we’re going to be mobile and the suits will make it hard to hear and respond. Try to only call us if it’s an emergency, ok? If we’re stopped for any reason and can get to the radio, we’ll call you and keep you updated.”

“Is that thing even going to work out there with all the scary radiation rays bouncing around?”

“Oh yeah. An initial blast might mess with radio waves, but we’re long past that. It should work the same up there as it does down here. All set Impulse?”

“Ready!” The other man’s voice also sounds like a muffled mess behind a mask. “I’ve got the radio and the food. You’ve got the water and the first aid kit. That’s everything. Man, I’m nervous. Look at my hands shaking.”

“Just some pre-journey jitters. It will probably get better once we get outside and see what we have to work with. Come help me with the door.”

Tango can hear the loud clunk of the sealing mechanism sliding out of place for their door. “Stay safe out there, alright guys?” His voice cracks a little. “You better check in at least once a day. Promise me.” Both of them answer him instantly.

“Promise.”

“We promise.”

The sound of pneumatic hissing blends a little into the background static of the radio as pistons pull their door open.

“Okay, Tango. This is it. We’re going now. You stay safe down there.”

“Don’t have too much fun without us.”

“Bye.” Tango hates how small his voice sounds. He’s not even sure if they could hear him on the other side, but it’s all he can manage. He’s afraid that, if he tries to say anything else, he’d fall apart into tiny little pieces. Whether they heard him or not, their end of the radio cuts out. The speakers switch back to buzzing with that familiar, empty white noise.

They’re gone. They’ll be okay. They’ll be back. They’ll get him out of here and then they can all go home.

He starts reaching towards one broken half of a door when one of the emergency lights goes out in the hall. It pops with a sudden tink. There are still other lights in the hall, but with one less to brighten the space the shapes in front of him are harsher. Bright red edges and curves are made stark in contrast to hard-lined black shadows. Somewhere from further down in the bunker, he can hear the hum of the pump. The steady drip, drop, drip of water. He didn’t need to run to check for a leak this time, though. He wanted to, but he didn’t. Now he knew from experience that it was coming from water condensing on the cooler end of the bunker wall where the pipe went into the soil outside. Something that Impulse had kindly explained to him. The place wasn’t in any immediate danger of leaking toxic fluids, as Zedaph had made clear. But old superstitions were easy to let creep back in when you could hear everything and there was nothing to be heard.

So Tango put the headset of the radio back on before he dug into the pile. With one hand, he hit the dial to switch frequencies while he pulled away the wreckage with the other.

He had a lot of frequencies to get through before he would end up back on the one his friends would be using. It wouldn’t be too hard to go through all of them and make the most of his time while he waited. And if he could help Zedaph and Impulse in some way, it would be worth it.

“Pan-pan, pan-pan, pan-pan. Is anyone out there? This is an urgent distress call from Tango Tek, calling from the underground testing Bunker 2. I… uh… I know this isn't protocol, but if anyone is out there, then you should know that there are two amazing people out there right now looking for help. They go by Zedaph and Impulse, they just went topside of Bunker 1, and they’re carrying a radio of their own. You should know that they are some of the smartest, bravest people I have ever met and their safety means everything to me. You might not know them, and you probably don’t know me, but if there is any way you can help them, then please, do whatever you can to make sure they make it home.”

#whumptober 2023 #prompt no. 7 #“I paced around for hours on empty I jumped at the slightest of sounds”#Radio Silence #minecraft: hermitcraft #hermitcraft #creative writing #isolation #nuclear disaster #tangotek #impulsesv #zedaph #alternate universe-modern setting #sound science #realistic engineering in fanfiction #CB radio

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