Wind whipped through the silent plain that made up what was once Nebraska. On this day, only one person was wandering through the cold air, clutching his coat close to himself.

"Destiny did not call you. I did."

Every day felt cold, but lately it hasn't been so bad. Winter must finally be letting up, the man thought to himself, reminiscing on the words spoken to him by that man, the man he knew as his employer. It wasn't hard to know when one was in Nebraska, seeing as how it was one of those few places particularly affected by the bombs. Sure there was the occasional horde of the Hungry, which meant it was wise to stay off the roads and away from the larger towns, but it served itself well as a place where one can travel in peace when it was warm enough.

"You can't be alive. I saw you die in Pittsburgh."

"The game has changed so much now, my friend, I'm a little disappointed you still treat death the way you did before this all happened."

After that, there was nothing much he could do besides start walking his way to a meeting place given to him by a dead man who still drew breath. In this world, that was the least of his troubles. What was more worrisome was dealing with the mundane horrors of a world gone to shit.

He had seen people die of exposure before, simple fevers that once meant nothing, now were life threatening. Healers were in short supply, and that wasn't even counting the charlatans, snake oil salesmen, or the predators out there looking for easy prey. Once, when he was all the way down in Mississippi, he encountered a woman who swore she had knowledge of the healing arts, but he knew better than to take her for her word. Sure enough, when she offered him a soothing cup of tea, he could smell the faintest whiff of something off. One confrontation and a few bullets later, the Witch lay cold on the table, leaving him to discover her torture chamber in the basement, reeking of blood and viscera. This wouldn't have slid past the government regulators, but now there weren't any regulators, leaving whoever was left to fend for themselves.

The building was in sight, and the man was waved at by a singular figure near the door. He was a middle aged man, clad in black clothing, a ski mask hiding his features, a rifle slung over his shoulder. Waving back, the man greeted the guard, sharing pleasantries before giving the password that would gain me entrance.

"War Master."

"That's the one. Glad to see you back at your post, Mr. Bard."

Nodding, Mr. Bard entered the improvised radio station, powered entirely by gasoline generators, so as not to attract the attention of The Hungry. It was warm, windowless, and only as large as about three ramshackle houses squeezed together, with a kitchen, a bed, and a microphone, one that he felt so familiar towards, but reluctant to use. Still, he had a job to do, and one didn't refuse a job offer from the man he knew as Dimitri Gorbachev.

The microphone powered on, and he began his speech.

"Hello, hello, my dearest listeners. It's ya boy, the Bard, coming at you from an undisclosed location, in what we used to call the United States of America. My little vacation was...very productive, and I have returned with gifts. More specifically, I come to you with Salvation in hand, and a chance to fix this broken world of ours. Have I caught your attention? Good, because you're going to want to listen real well. In the frozen wastes of Chicago is a man, a cassette, and a gun. My newest employer wants all three of these things, and is offering anyone who can retrieve them, the ultimate reward, a world before the bombs, a world of peace and prosperity, where everything we know is back to normal."

In the large trees of the once deserts of California a young man is stalking his prey. It was a fairly large grizzlie bear but the young man needed the meat. Remember Freddie come from an angle use speed as well as strengt. The young man now known as Freddie nodded 'thanks torimir you tell me basically every time ' he thought to his god. Freddie gets the knife he was carrying ready and an old scar on his cheek seems to open up and glow golden . Freddie smiles and with inhuman speed sprints at the bear, as soon as he reaches the animal he stabs into its soft underbelly and makes a wide slash. Freddie quickly dances away from the now enraged but dying near , the bear soon can't support itself and calls over taking shuddering breaths.

Freddie walks over to the animal and drops to his knees. "Thank you." He says patting the bear he then stabs his knife into the bears heart to end the animals suffering. You did good Freddie now we will need to find a way to haul it back to the house ' already got one '. The scar on Freddies face closes and stops glowing as Freddie walks to a sled like contraption. Wiping off the blood on his face he brings the sled like thing over to the bear which he then pushes onto the sled. After almost half an hour later of walking Freddie reaches his " house". Really it was a broken house that had barely survived one half of the roof was caved in and the same side had a tree growing out of it.

Sighing in relief once he reaches his house he sets the bear carcass down and walks into his " living room " and over to the radio.He turns it to the one station on and goes over to begin field dressing and skinning the bear. As he is doing this he hears the message from bard which causes him to freeze.This could be a chance to make things normal.' it could but Chicago is far.' it is but the decision is yours. ' I will have to think about it.' He thinks to torimir but in his heart Freddie already knew what he was going to do.

Yyyep, pretty sure I’m fucked.

Katia let out a defeated huff among the hundreds of stark gray trees. According to her map – at least, her best interpretation of what was practically a foreign language to her – she was supposed to cross the outer edge of these woods shortly before nightfall. Well, the sky was fading to orange now, and everything looked the same as it did at midday.

Katia stopped and leaned on an ivy-covered tree to gather her bearings for the tenth time. She slid the heavy pack off her broad shoulders and let it unceremoniously crash to the dirt. One hand pulled a lighter out of her pocket to help her read in the fading light. The other rummaged through her thick coat’s pocket for a crisply folded map.

Suddenly, two thick strands of ivy lashed out from the tree. They wrapped tightly around Katia’s wrists and hoisted them above her head, pinned to the rough tree trunk.

The young woman unleashed a startled shout… and something else. In an inch-thick space surrounding Katia’s body, the air warped and wiggled slightly, like heat rising from a sweltering car at the height of summer. Unfortunately, Katia’s powers kicked in too late. Or did they? Two more vines wrapped around her ankles, but their grip felt much weaker. Her strong legs could probably break out of them. But then what?

“It’s been quite a while since new blood wandered around here.”

A man roughly Katia’s age and height, though slighter in build, dropped from the next tree over and approached her with a smirk. His skin looked coarse and thick, almost like bark. Something inside Katia churned with spite. Sorcerer’s Spark, probably.

“Let’s just make this quick and easy for both of us,” the ivy man continued. “Your possessions are staying right here, but I’ll give you two options. Option A: I take your nice stuff, leave you with just enough to maybe reach the ancient ruins known as ‘civilization’ you idiots cling to. Option B: You get to keep all your stuff and stay here with me. I’ve gotten kind of… lonely, you could say, over the past months.”

Katia responded with only a glare and a spit that fell far short of the target. The young man chuckled at his helpless captive and started to rummage through her backpack.

“Relax,” the man said. “You should consider yourself lucky. I’m not even gonna hurt ya, unless you give me good reason to. After all, I am a merciful mage.”

In a moment of distraction, Katia thrust her right leg forward, breaking through the ivy with a fibrous snap. She slid her boot under the pile of crumbling leaves that held her fallen lighter. With another powerful thrust, the lighter flew up into the air. Katia stretched out her fingers to catch the flame that would set her free AND—it bounced off her forearm and clattered back to the ground.

The ivy man stared wide-eyed for a moment. Then his smirk returned.

“Haha, you really th-GAH!”

With her left leg, Katia connected with a more conventional ‘just kick him in the head’ strategy. The guy frantically scrambled to get back to his feet, only to duck back down to narrowly dodge another kick. He blurted out a few syllables and thrust his palm as close as he dared to the not-so-helpless victim’s face.

Fortunately for Katia, the telltale sounds of incantation gave her notice to put up another anti-magic shield. A bright yellow stream of spores surged out from the ivy man’s hand, but by the time they reached Katia, it was more of a misty cloud. Even then, Katia sputtered and felt drowsy. She nearly slipped under, but she shook it off and growled furiously.

The man froze in a moment of pure shock. Katia took the opportunity to hoist herself up with her bound wrists and shove both feet as hard as she could into the man’s chest. He failed to catch himself and slammed flat on his back. The dazed man lost focus on his spells, freeing Katia’s wrists. The timing for this victory was less than ideal, though, as it caused Katia to also stumble onto her back.

Both combatants struggled to get back to their feet. A rage inside Katia spurned her to pounce just a bit faster. She felt barely aware as her hands felt firm bone become steadily less firm beneath her sap gloves. Even less aware of thorny scratches raking her chin and neck in a desperate counterattack. Finally, Katia returned to reality to find herself panting, bleeding, but victorious over the unmoving form of the ivy man.

Several impulses flooded Katia’s mind at once. But this wasn’t her first rodeo, and she knew what she was supposed to do here. First, she checked to see if they guy was still alive. He was breathing and all, but he’d certainly be out cold for a while. Without giving herself much time to think about it, Katia gathered a few supplies from a pouch on the inside of her bag. Then she opened the man’s mouth, unsheathed her knife, and began carving into his tongue. He stirred slightly, but one more punch to the head stopped that. Katia sliced off roughly the front fourth of his tongue, jammed a swab of rubbing alcohol on the wound, and tightly wrapped some gauze around it. She applied a tight clamp, followed by as much more gauze as would reasonably fit. Finally, Katia rolled him onto his side with his head leaning downward so he *might* not choke on his own blood.

Even after all that, Katia still felt a sense of wild anger in her panting chest. With shaking hands, she hastily piled all her supplies back into her pack and walked off to anywhere except there.

“He seemed to be in good control of his magic,” Katia muttered – partly to herself, and partly to the other party that might be listening. “But he took it too far beyond ‘desperate times call for desperate measures.’ Maybe that shithead will die anyway, or maybe he’ll use this wake-up call to wise up. Whatever happens, he’ll never be able to cast spells again.”

A shift happened in a subtle pocket of emotion that years of practice had taught Katia to distinguish as outside her own mind… most of the time. Her breath slowed to an almost reasonable pace. The Entity seemed… disappointed yet resigned to accept this series of events.

Katia nearly toppled over as her limbs seemed to double in weight. Her adrenaline rush must’ve worn off faster than the sleeping spores. The woman forced herself to trudge onward for another mile or so until she found a good hiding spot formed by a fallen oak over a deep ditch. She crawled inside the tiny makeshift cave and built a half-assed leaf wall before collapsing.

“You sure I’m ready for Chicago?” the half-conscious woman mumbled.

Katia felt a brief surge of welcome warmth in her chest. She wasn’t fully convinced that braving the disastrous urban magic over a too-good-to-be-true message was a good idea. But Ro felt absolutely certain.