Post by storyteller0910 on Dec 10, 2009 13:13:18 GMT -5
August 2, 6:19AM
My name is Sally Floyd. I am a reporter for the Associated Press. I am writing this in the possibly vain hope that if I don't survive what is to come, someone might someday know what happened here.
I hardly know where to begin. I am writing this longhand, which is the first time in my entire career I've wrote anything longer than a shopping list using a pen. I am writing this from Ryker's Island, in the East River. Right now I am sitting in a toolshed on the North side of the island. Just outside this shed is a large exercise yard, maybe the size of a football field. Wandering around on that yard as I write these sentences are almost two dozen of the most dangerous men and women alive. In 12 minutes, these men and women were supposed to begin registration in accordance with the Superhuman Registration Act.
I don't think that's going to happen.
Ten minutes ago, while the registrants stood in an orderly line in front of the pavilion in which registration was to take place, the big floodlights illuminating the grey dawn just... turned off. Maybe a minute later, the screen on my iBook brightened for a second or two and then went black; I haven't been able to recover it yet. There's a bit of sun in the sky already, so we weren't exactly plunged into total darkness when the lights went out, but confusion started to take hold pretty quickly. And the worst of it hadn't happened yet.
Exactly one minute after my computer shorted out - I started watching my watch at that point - I saw what looked like a massive wall of rain emerge from the East River to the North. Similar walls rose from the south, east, and west, and they connected directly above us, forming what is essentially a huge dome. I used my camera's zoom function to take a closer look: the dome wasn't made of rain, exactly, but of some substance that defied description - some shifting material that looked like neither machinery nor like anything natural. Its color began to shift, then, from a translucent blue to a darker, more opaque color like a battleship. And then, the shifting ceased, the color solidified.
And the yard went perfectly dark.
I've been in some scary places, but a pitch black prison yard currently inhabited by people with superhuman abilities and weapons - a few of whom were very possibly multiple mass murderers - definitely wins the prize. It took them about four minutes to locate and engage the generator-powered emergency lights, and I'm not ashamed to say I spent most of them shrieking like a psychopath. When the lights came back, there was a message.
It was posted above the pavilion, where the "Welcome Registrants" sign had hung five minutes ago. It was simple, stark - black handwritten letters on a white sheet of printer paper. It said this:
"My friends -
The battle has been joined. But even now there is hope of a peaceful solution. Abandon registration, join the patriotic opposition to this meritless government action, and together we can force a change. Refuse, and we will be forced to take action against you."
The letter was not signed, but was stamped with a white star.
The ordinary men detained at Ryker's Island are safely confined - the backup generators for their complex kicked in immediately after we lost power. They remain prisoners; for now, we are, too.
- Sally Floyd
----------------
Night Zero begins now. I will start sending PMs immediately. Please confirm receipt by return PM. In the meanwhile, please feel free to talk about any aspect of the game or set-up that you wish. Beginning now, there are no post restrictions.
Unless otherwise specified in your PM, no Night actions will take place on Night Zero, there will be no kills, and no one will be lynched.
I hope everyone has fun!
My name is Sally Floyd. I am a reporter for the Associated Press. I am writing this in the possibly vain hope that if I don't survive what is to come, someone might someday know what happened here.
I hardly know where to begin. I am writing this longhand, which is the first time in my entire career I've wrote anything longer than a shopping list using a pen. I am writing this from Ryker's Island, in the East River. Right now I am sitting in a toolshed on the North side of the island. Just outside this shed is a large exercise yard, maybe the size of a football field. Wandering around on that yard as I write these sentences are almost two dozen of the most dangerous men and women alive. In 12 minutes, these men and women were supposed to begin registration in accordance with the Superhuman Registration Act.
I don't think that's going to happen.
Ten minutes ago, while the registrants stood in an orderly line in front of the pavilion in which registration was to take place, the big floodlights illuminating the grey dawn just... turned off. Maybe a minute later, the screen on my iBook brightened for a second or two and then went black; I haven't been able to recover it yet. There's a bit of sun in the sky already, so we weren't exactly plunged into total darkness when the lights went out, but confusion started to take hold pretty quickly. And the worst of it hadn't happened yet.
Exactly one minute after my computer shorted out - I started watching my watch at that point - I saw what looked like a massive wall of rain emerge from the East River to the North. Similar walls rose from the south, east, and west, and they connected directly above us, forming what is essentially a huge dome. I used my camera's zoom function to take a closer look: the dome wasn't made of rain, exactly, but of some substance that defied description - some shifting material that looked like neither machinery nor like anything natural. Its color began to shift, then, from a translucent blue to a darker, more opaque color like a battleship. And then, the shifting ceased, the color solidified.
And the yard went perfectly dark.
I've been in some scary places, but a pitch black prison yard currently inhabited by people with superhuman abilities and weapons - a few of whom were very possibly multiple mass murderers - definitely wins the prize. It took them about four minutes to locate and engage the generator-powered emergency lights, and I'm not ashamed to say I spent most of them shrieking like a psychopath. When the lights came back, there was a message.
It was posted above the pavilion, where the "Welcome Registrants" sign had hung five minutes ago. It was simple, stark - black handwritten letters on a white sheet of printer paper. It said this:
"My friends -
The battle has been joined. But even now there is hope of a peaceful solution. Abandon registration, join the patriotic opposition to this meritless government action, and together we can force a change. Refuse, and we will be forced to take action against you."
The letter was not signed, but was stamped with a white star.
The ordinary men detained at Ryker's Island are safely confined - the backup generators for their complex kicked in immediately after we lost power. They remain prisoners; for now, we are, too.
- Sally Floyd
----------------
Night Zero begins now. I will start sending PMs immediately. Please confirm receipt by return PM. In the meanwhile, please feel free to talk about any aspect of the game or set-up that you wish. Beginning now, there are no post restrictions.
Unless otherwise specified in your PM, no Night actions will take place on Night Zero, there will be no kills, and no one will be lynched.
I hope everyone has fun!