Chapter 45: Start The Countdown

"Find anything yesterday?" Az asked Hex as they strolled through the streets of Hamlet Crossroad.

"Nah, once I got into the broadcasting room, they said I could only send a message, hoping the person I want to relay the message to might catch it on a radio," Hex replied, his voice echoing against the deserted buildings.

"Don't worry, he's one resilient motherfucker, that's for sure," Az chuckled, scanning the dilapidated structures around them.

"Oi, that's my uncle's friend you're talking about," Hex playfully rebuked.

Az laughed, the sound reverberating through the streets. "True."

"What about you guys? Suddenly we're planning for another raid," Hex prodded Az for more information on what was going on yesterday.

"Things happened," Az shrugged, deliberately cryptic about their recent developments.

Az, Hex, and their group ventured deeper into the crossroads, they noticed the resilience etched on the faces of the survivors—the unspoken resolve to persevere despite the odds stacked against them.

"Let's take a look around," Az suggested, eager to explore and gather any potential clues they might have missed. "Yesterday was chaotic; after the meeting, we just rested."

As they weaved through the hodgepodge of makeshift shelters, many constructed from salvaged materials and tattered tarps.

Some of the survivors huddled in small groups, their voices hushed as they exchanged information and traded vital resources. Az's group moved discreetly, their keen eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger or valuable insights.

They stumbled upon a gathering of survivors around a rickety table, their faces marked by weariness but illuminated by the glimmer of hope. Maps were spread out, showing marked zones to avoid and possible alien strongholds. Az approached cautiously, listening in on discussions about escape routes and unguarded pathways.

Nearby, a woman was bartering for medical supplies, offering tools salvaged from the ruins in exchange. Another survivor was engaged in a heated negotiation for ammunition, emphasizing the scarcity of such resources.

As they continued their exploration, Az's group noticed the exchange of stories—tales of survival, strategies, and, occasionally, glimpses of hope amid the chaos. It was more than just a transaction of goods; it was a communion of shared experiences and a reminder of their resilience in the face of adversity.

They gathered fragments of information—rumors about a hidden shelter, cautionary tales of ambushes, and hints of potential allies scattered throughout the desolate city.

Amidst the hustle of Hamlet Crossroad, Az's attention was drawn to an old radio near a man trader, its crackling speakers barely audible above the murmurs of conversations. Curiosity piqued, he approached the trader's stall, scanning the various items on display.

The trader, a weathered survivor with a makeshift stand of salvaged wood and metal, noticed Az's interest. "What can I help you with, man?" he asked, eyeing Az with a mix of caution and curiosity.

Az responded with a friendly smile, "I'm just looking around first. But, I am quite surprised to see your items here. How do you gather them?" He picked up a triangle-looking device, studying its intricate design.

The trader chuckled, "Ah, that's a communication device, I think. But not much can be done with that; you need the other side to have the same device for it to function, tho."

As Az inspected the triangular device, he noted its intricate alien design, fascinated by the complexity of its functions. "Communication device, huh?" Az muttered, turning the device over in his hands. "Curious how it's useless without its pair."

The trader chuckled, nodding at Az's observation. "Aye, that's the conundrum. Finding a matching set is like finding a needle in a haystack."

Az flashed a wry smile. "Sometimes the rarest things have the most peculiar uses."

The trader leaned in, sharing a knowing look. "Indeed. Been gathering these odds and ends."

Az examined the item, nodding in understanding. "You must have put most of your skull points into your Intelligence stat to understand all these alien devices you've got," he remarked with a smirk.

The trader laughed heartily at Az's comment. "Aren't you a sharp one? I tried to trade the item I got after the simulation with the first person I met, and from that point on, I find collecting all these junks intriguing." He gestured proudly toward the eclectic assortment of salvaged items on display.

Az gestured toward the array of items on display. "You've got quite the collection here. Must have traded a fair bit to gather these."

The trader chuckled. "Aye, it's been a hodgepodge of deals, some involving goods, others information. Folks are eager for anything that might give them an edge."

Az's eyes scanned the items, noting peculiar devices and oddities. "Have you come across anything truly remarkable?"

The trader's eyes glinted with a hint of excitement. "A few times. There was this one piece—a compact sphere that emitted a frequency. Clever thing, seemed to drive the aliens nuts!"

Az raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And where is this remarkable piece now?"

The trader shrugged regretfully. "Traded it off to a group heading east. Said they needed something to help them through a rough spot."

As Az continued to browse, Hex joined him, eyeing the assortment of alien tech. "Interesting wares you've got here," Hex remarked, picking up a small metallic cube.

The trader beamed. "Helps to have a variety. Survivors find hope in these curious little gadgets."

Az nodded in agreement. "Survival's all about adapting, isn't it?"

The trader chuckled. "Exactly. And sometimes, these strange odds and ends offer a glimmer of hope in the darkest of times."

As Az engaged in conversation with the trader, Freyn's observant eyes caught sight of a box filled with assorted items tucked away under the trader's stall. Curiosity getting the better of her, she knelt down, sifting through the contents of the box.

Her fingers brushed against the items, picking up a few intriguing pieces and placing them on the table. The trader glanced over, a knowing smile on his weathered face. "Most of the items in there are trash," he remarked, observing Freyn's interest in the miscellaneous pieces. "I found some of those in one of the abandoned bases nearby. The place looked like it's been through hell."

Among the assortment were broken tools, seemingly damaged electronic components, and a few fragments of alien tech that had seen better days.

Despite the trader's dismissal of them as junk, she sifted through the box of assorted items, her trained eye, accustomed to identifying valuable tech and artifacts, quickly discerned the pieces that held potential.

"You're quite interested in those scraps," the trader remarked with a wry smile, unaware that Freyn's knowledge surpassed his own when it came to identifying valuable alien artifacts. "Most folks find them nothing more than scraps."

Freyn nodded, a knowing glint in her eyes, as she examined the pieces. Among the pile of discarded-looking components, she spotted a few fragments that shimmered faintly with a hint of alien technology—a detail that went unnoticed by the trader. Her intuition guided her toward these fragments, each bearing the faint remnants of an advanced civilization.

As Freyn carefully curated the items she deemed valuable, she selected three particularly intriguing pieces and placed them on the table before the trader. She glanced up, meeting the trader's eyes, and inquired about the price.

However, to her surprise, the trader merely smiled and pushed the items back toward her. "Consider them a gift," he said, with his warm expression.

Freyn raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the unexpected gesture. She studied the trader's face, searching for any hint of motive behind his generosity, but found none. "Why?" she questioned, a faint note of skepticism in her voice.

The trader shrugged casually. "Let's just say I've got a soft spot for those who appreciate the real value of things."

He then gestured playfully towards Az's hammer. "If you still want to pay, I'm fine with it, but I'd be more interested in that hammer of yours." His tone was light, a hint of jest in his eyes as he glanced at the weapon strapped to Az's belt. "That's quite an intriguing hammer. I've got a few hammers in my collection," he continued, displaying an array of them, "but yours is quite different."

Az chuckled, glancing down at his hammer with a fondness that implied it held a deeper significance. "Sorry, this one's not for sale. It's got a bit of sentimental value," he replied, patting the weapon affectionately.

The trader shrugged, a twinkle in his eye. "Fair enough, I can appreciate sentimental value. Enjoy your exploration, folks. Don't hesitate to drop by if you find anything interesting or need a trade."

Az nodded in thanks, exchanging a final glance with the trader before continuing to explore Hamlet Crossroad, the mysterious trader's words lingering in their minds.

As they walked away from the trader, Freyn gently pulled Az's hand and handed him one of the items she had acquired. Az inspected the device, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"What's this for?" Az asked, turning the gadget in his hands.

Freyn, with a knowing smile, replied, "It's more compatible with you than you might think."

Az shot her a puzzled look, a mix of curiosity and uncertainty in his eyes. "Compatible? What do you mean?"

Freyn simply grinned mysteriously, hinting at a deeper connection between Az and the unknown device. "Give it a try when the time is right. Some things are better experienced than explained."