TIMESTAMP UNKNOWN
Kassim opened his eyes. For once in his life he was greeted to a calming sight. The setting sun slowly dipped below the horizon as seagulls flew overhead, announcing their presence with distinctive calls.
He wiped the sand from his brow.
He's no expert on the wildlife of his home planet, never even setting foot there, so he doesn't appreciate the instinctive familiarity of the animals on Mobius. The convergence in evolution between many keystone species of their biospheres left many of the ARK's xenobiologists in awe. Especially with the capabilities that the native sapients have, the fact that less powerful animals were tolerated and allowed to thrive without being in captivity is a marvel.
But from the perspective of a marooned, isolated survivor with nothing to his name besides his tools and food caches, it means little difference. Living away from civilization and in disputed territory would be impossible if not for having a healthy amount of caution. Humanity may be capable of many things, but their greatest talents relative to the mobians is their relative insignificance. They sleep fewer hours and consume less food. While a lone mobian outlaw would have to hunt constantly or establish small enclaves to merely sustain themselves, humans could do much more with the same resources.
But in a one on one fight, there can only be one victor.
Thus, Kassim carefully assesses his surroundings, taking care not to silhouette himself against the horizon while doing so. He sees a lake, filled with still water and undoubtedly infested with mosquitos. Or what would pass for mosquitos among mobians. He decides not to drink from those waters, as not only would a bite from such a creature be excruciatingly painful, but also in fear of any intestinal parasites that could cause problems if ingested. Instead, he tries to find the source of the stream. Getting drinking water is going to be essential if he wants to live for a few more days.
Beside him lie a couple of indigo blue jerrycans, with "GMS F-34" underlined by "JP-8" spelled out in big letters on its label. Kassim decides not to use these for water - he can easily smell the oligmerized fuel and sees the toxicity warnings on the side. He needs something else to serve this desired purpose.
In the distance he sees a pillar of smoke. That community is likely to be aligned with the Robotnik Corporation or one of its beneficiaries. It would be extremely unlikely for a rebel force to have such an overt presence in this area. He does not want to be anywhere near those people, but they probably have the tools he needs. He accounts for other things he needs to steal before formulating a plan of action.
1. Nutritive
1. a. Portable food-grade containers to carry water
1. b. Extra calories
2. Equipment
2. a. Binoculars
2. b. Hygienic supplies, especially deodorant, antiperspirant, and soap
2. c. Spare clothes (unlikely)
2. d. Shoes (unlikely)
2. e. Camouflage, especially in the infrared spectrum
3. Manufacturing aids
3. a. Cement
3. b. Scrap materials
3. c. Tools applicable for building and manufacture
4. Valuables
4. a. Chaos drives
4. b. Chaos emeralds
4. c. Legal tender
4. d. Scarce resources
5. Weapons
5. a. Firearms
5. b. Grenades
He considers himself fortunate to have access to something to write stuff down. He couldn't have possibly remembered half of it without a notepad and a pen.
He almost certainly needs something to hold water if he wants to live for a few more months. Still, it can't be the only location waiting for goods to be... "liberated". He tries to find signs of other settlements that would have useful resources. Now ignoring the smoke that's obscuring the light of sunrise, he turns his attention to the pattern that the trees are taking, looking for inconsistencies that could be useful for finding rebel hideouts.
Many scavenger species are congregating around a sizeable area of trees. Some of them, bright orange birds flickering across the treetops, can be heard nearby. No smoke can be seen coming out of the area, but the place is notable enough to check out. Best of all, the distance to that area is relatively short, especially compared to the factory that's on the plateau. He gets on board his bike and tries to find a place to view the scene from above without disturbing the birds. Coming up to the hillside, he can barely make out tents in the distance.
Kassim found a rebel encampment not too far from where the factory lies. He collapses his bike and shortly observes the personnel inside. He sees many decrepit and old pieces of equipment, from scrounged up weapons to old military vehicles that seem hastily rebuilt from scrap.
The rebel base promises opportunity. Stability, even if temporary, is a significant temptation to Kassim. However, he has no intention of joining them - he knows perfectly well that the conflict between the two powers holds no moral stances he would confidently stand for. He's also aware that the hideout would probably have greater vigilance at night, but knowing the majority demographic, he's confident in his abilities.
After all, he was able to get this close...
He cases the place, trying to find weak spots in the site's security and understand what the enemy's next move would be. Looking at the number of tents relative to activity, he assumes that the guards present are likely a skeleton crew for off-peak hours, protecting the main force which lies fast asleep.
Considering the idea that his target would likely be engaged in a nighttime operation, he tries to find an unguarded water container to appropriate. If it's in one of the jerrycans, it should be colored white. Otherwise, it should resemble a water bottle in shape. Unfortunately, such a matter is easier said than done. Most water containers are either heavily guarded, impossible to transport, or irreparably destroyed. Kassim concludes that the mobians, being incredibly strong and probably part of a special forces unit, are expected to carry more water than usual. So much water, in fact, that they would probably be the 20 liter containers that he currently has for jet fuel. It still doesn't make sense for them to only carry one water container each, however. There has to be spares.
He decides to change positions, assuming that these spares would be located at the heart of the facility. He backtracks a few kilometers and shimmies up a tree to observe. He sees several crew-served weapons in the mix, many of them laughably obsolete relics of the Acorn Civil War. Infantry support guns, anti-tank guns, water-cooled machine guns and towed MRLs are seen mixed with half-tracks and box magazine fed S02 LMGs.
But, in the middle of it all, he sees his prize. Lots and lots of water containers, in a greyish white tint, stacked together neatly in the back of three half-tracks. If he can sabotage one of them, he should be able to make away with some of the containers to use later on. Satisfied, his eyes wander to the path that the vehicles took to reach their current encampment. The vehicles torn up long trails with discernible patterns. The broken water containers along the final stretch of the pathway indicates an incompetent logistician, who probably decided to keep the supply trucks in the middle of a column of armor as escorts. The armor column does not seem to be equipped even with the most basic of electronics, probably due to a parts shortage.
Kassim decides to bank on that mistake being made twice. He descends, gets his bike, and sets up his trap ahead of the convoy while there's still daylight.
By 1400 Kassim is finished. He set up a small pit with a thatch concealing it, and filled it halfway with gravel from the lake nearby. The gravel should jam the tracks of the vehicles and cause enough of a disturbance to hasten their approach forward. This could cause them to drop some of their supplies in the confusion. In that case, a small area of unmolested ground would be available to secure the goods. Now he just has to wait.
He hopes those water containers are made of metal so he could cook with them. He doesn't have chlorine on him, so the advantages of plastic containers wouldn't matter as much. Still, if the containers are plastic, it wouldn't be as problematic because he could figure out other ways of boiling water.
He considers circling on back to the camp and find a way to get behind them so he can inspect some of the broken containers. The way to the factory would probably be laden with landmines, and Kassim would rather have the rebels take the brunt of the punishment rather than risk his own life trying to scout the place. Still, the factory would probably have a lot of useful equipment, and if the rebels get into a position to storm the place, it would be a lost cause for a significant period of time as security would be increased and potential resources destroyed.
Did the rebels have any mine detection equipment? It's possible that with how outdated their equipment is they would probably have come to the conclusion that their tools stopped being useful, but he didn't recall any metal detectors. Nor did he recall any robotic devices being used by the rebels in spite of the utility that they could provide to solve this exact problem - he instead found three surreal-looking animal species that he vaguely remembered being discussed in biology class. Most of them he remembers by their nicknames and does not know any of their scientific names or whatever.
The canine-like creatures, nicknamed the "skeleton dog" but having no direct analogue to earth-like species, the creature is a pack animal that was apparently domesticated by the mobians in the same way as actual dogs. Their senses are somewhat weaker than dogs, but they can go longer without eating food. They are potent guard animals and Kassim was surprised that he wasn't detected by these things yet.
The unicorns are some of mobius's most interesting animals, but are difficult to domesticate. They have the herd behavior of horses, the aggressive behaviors of zebras, the horns of rhinos, and the endurance of mules. They serve as excellent pack animals for long journeys and are decent livestock. Xenobiologists hypothesized that these animals were domesticated by mobians in spite of their flaws simply because they helped circumvent their poor endurance, and captured these creatures by building barriers to contain them and start the domestication process. But he never seen one before becoming a fugitive.
Then there are yellow-orange birds that are feeding off a dead unicorn carcass. They are almost vulture-like, but much more flamboyant and even somewhat intelligent. From what he remembers, these birds are very active when there are forest fires and wild birds are even suspected of exacerbating them. Their long lifespan, affinity for fire, and scavenger diet caused humans to nickname them "phoenixes". Kassim doesn't think much of the birds - their purpose seems to be mainly to act as messengers. However, he doesn't see a leg canister on any of the birds to hold such messages. They must be serving another purpose...
He is not able to observe the camp at the moment, but he hears the "dogs" approach him from that direction. There's almost no way that he could return to the place, so he's compelled to escape through the minefield to lose his pursuers. He gets on his bike and cycles towards the lake, perpendicular to both the factory and the camp. The noise of his bike tires drown out the subtle steps of the animals behind him, but this is the only way he would be able to outrun his pursuers. The most he can do is keep his eyes on the road and watch for landmines and sentries. He pedals through the trees for five minutes, exerting himself and obscuring his path, trying to reach a stream or any small ledge that would conceal him from the rebels. But only seven minutes after starting his escape, he heard hastened footsteps approaching him from behind. The mobians are making a break for him, and the only way he could stay out of their reach is if he changes his direction to be directly opposite of them and further into danger.
He ducks under a tree branch, which only further slowed him down as it didn't hang low enough to obstruct the mobians. Kassim would need to use something to facilitate his escape. He reaches into his bandolier and grabbed a match and struck it. Then he grabs the bike handle with the hand holding the match, and used his other hand to grab a petrol bomb. Lighting the petrol bomb, he tosses it overhand to a tree close to a stream. The bottle breaks, splashing the flammable liquid everywhere in front of his path. He pushes through the flames and the smoke and into the stream ahead. He looks behind, seeing his pursuers stop in front of the flames and pulling something out of their belts. Not wanting to entertain a shootout, he continues to push past the hill. He comes across a cave and takes cover in it. He doesn't hear the rebels approach the hill, instead he hears frustrated yelling, followed by retreating footsteps.
A few minutes later, Kassim hears drones fly overhead, undoubtedly to investigate the smoke. He also hears the phoenixes making calls as the birds taken advantage of the situation to spread the fires elsewhere. Feeling thankful for his good fortune, he waits for the drones to head back to the factory so he could leave before the wildfire makes conditions inhospitable.
After several hours of firefighting aircraft dousing the area in water, Kassim comes out of hiding to continue his approach to the factory. He makes the decision to shadow the shoreline as that terrain would likely have poor drainage. Tanks and autonomous vehicles are unlikely to navigate the terrain, so it's possible that the area would not be mined. He starts pedaling to the factory in hopes of finding containers or tools that he could use.
At least, he would have, if not for his bike also getting bogged down in the mud.
"God's sakes... C'mon, move you rusty piece of scrap..."
Manhandling the bike a bit, Kassim finally frees himself. It's almost dusk. He hears vehicles moving in the distance, possibly to attack the factory. Kassim stops himself to think about what he's doing. Maybe, because of the present action, it would be wise to circle back and try to scavenge something from the camp. He leans his bike against a tree and shimmies upwards to try and make out where the noise is coming from and for what reason.
The sun is setting. Rays of warmth soak his backside, and the shadows of the trees stretch into the distance. He can't really see what's going on and feels extremely vulnerable, being sandwiched in between the two forces. He sees the heavy vehicles already pass over his trap, and the frantic yelling and commotion around one of the vehicles.
...Unfortunately, Kassim bagged a tank. It was quickly repaired and his efforts were for naught.
"Damn it. And I didn't make another one..."
POOMMMM
Suddenly, Kassim hears an explosion in the distance. Well, at least he thinks it's an explosion? His eyes wander to the other vehicles. One of the half-tracks was wrecked by a landmine that the personnel weren't able to find. With morbid fascination he observes the rebels arguing with each other only to be overridden by an elderly hedgehog-like mobian. He can't make out his color but he can definitely make out his voice. The formation moved forward as the half-track was left behind with its dead operator.
There is absolutely no way that Kassim could out-race the mobian armor column approaching the factory. He instead decides to approach the half-track, hoping that the dead wouldn't take offense to his grave robbery. Retracing his escape route, Kassim approaches the vehicle, taking care not to be seen, and discards his effectively useless containers for something that could hold potable water. Taking three of the off-white jerrycans he decides afterwards to find any maps that he could use in the driver's cabin. Hopefully, the maps would be good enough for his amateur cartography to make use of. When he gets to the cabin, he is greeted by a primitive-looking computer fitted with a black and white screen and a radio. Kassim understood Acornite script on a rudimentary level, even knowing that they used a decimal system, but can't understand much more than that. The following number is printed out in big digits on the top-left, not apparently linked to anywhere in latitude or longitude:
1558.127
Kassim's frustration at not understanding the Acornite calendar distracted him for about five seconds. With a frown, he opens the glove compartment, hoping to find a useful map to figure out where he is and what places could act as safe haven, at least temporarily. He finds a crumpled piece of paper that is burnt in a few places but shows distinctive ripples outlined in ink, which more likely than not is what he's looking for. He can't read the Acornite script, however, so he must find some other way to attain proper inference if he wants to make the most of that document. He finds six other documents with similar markings on them, and puts them all into a waterproof container.
His eyes also wander to the driver, curled into an obviously uncomfortable position, almost like a poorly flipped patty that crumpled in on itself. His (her?) equipment is limited to a sash and kilt, with a revolver hanging on the side supported by the sash. If a human wore that, they'd be effectively naked, unable to withstand the freezing temperatures of winter in this territory. And well, it is freezing. Even if his fire spread, there wasn't much for it to burn, so it could've went out by itself without the drones.
Kassim tries to pilfer the soldier's revolver for his own use, as well as the ammunition pouch used to feed the gun. Even if the mobian was still alive they can definitely hold their own much better than Kassim could, so he doubts that such a weapon would be missed. With a little bit of finesse he frees the handgun, and unhooks one of the pouches before noticing the body stirring. He quickly loads his gun and aims at the unconscious man's head. He considers pulling the trigger.
...
He may be a coward, but the feeling in his stomach shows that he cannot bear what he is telling himself to do. He slowly backs away, hoping to not disturb the individual further, and tries to get back on his bike. It may not have helped escaping from the alerted patrol that tried to capture him, but Kassim is not going to let any opportunity for a head start to go wasted from freezing up. He doesn't bother searching for hand grenades - mobians can't use them as effectively as humans. One of the few physical perks to being formed in God's image, he thinks. He rides off in a direction away from the lake, and away from the factory. Hopefully, he can find passage outside.
BANG
THUMP
Kassim does not like that sound. He looks backwards to see the mobian crawl out of the vehicle, tearing off the side door, looking for him. Even with weaker eyesight than humans, it is only a matter of time before his victim sees his bike tire tracks and follows them. Gripping the revolver, he focuses on the path away from the site. While preferably, Kassim would have liked to not leave evidence behind, he had little choice. The amount of weight he can carry is limited, unlike mobians, who are limited only by volume and their payload's ability to hold itself together. His senses are soon drowned out by artillery fire in the distance. The factory is being attacked. He looks back, hoping that the driver is more keen to taking up arms with his comrades than against him.
"God, why can't I catch a lucky break once in a while?!"
He sees the mobian sprint towards him. Considering that the battlefield already turned hot, Kassim doubts that his quarry values stealth and concealment any more. The same trick with the molotov cocktail won't work again. He pulls out his revolver and fires two shots.
BANG
BANG
One of them grazes his target in the shoulder, but they remain unfazed. If Kassim wants any chance of living for the next day, he needs to do something that takes advantage of the noise. He pulls something out of his jacket. Something important. He thinks about the lake. He wants to be on the other side, right now...
A cyan-blue light bathed both himself and his pursuer.
Kassim's sense of touch feels nothing, but he sees the world bend and warp itself around him, passing by his bubble at breakneck speed. Colors blur. Darken. He turns around, and sees his pursuer struggling in the weightlessness in his personal space.
"No... No, no no! Get out of here!"
Kassim tries to kick off the mobian, force him out of his bubble so he can escape.
The rebel instead grabs hold of his leg.
"Let go, damn it! Let go! Aagh, God, please, give me strength... Please, I'm begging you!"
Kassim delivers another kick, aiming for the mobian's sensory organs. Eyes. Ears. Anything that would dissuade his captor from keeping hold of him.
CRUNCH
"AAAUGH! AHAHAHAOWWW! You son of a bitch!"
The mobian tightens his grip, breaking Kassim's leg and almost completely sapping his strength. The teleportation spell lost its edge, and Kassim's speed fell below relativistic levels. The two tumble across the opposite shoreline, with the mobian landing in a tree and Kassim rolling up a hill. Kassim's bike turned into an almost complete wreck, and the cargo turned into fragments, flying across the forested shoreline from the incredible speeds. Miraculously, Kassim survives. Slowly getting up, Kassim focuses on himself, and his stuff. He tries to bring his thoughts together, fixing his leg, fixing his bike, reversing the damage done by the mobian and by the rough landing.
His leg muscles and bones started to come back together. Painfully.
"AAUGH! MMMFFPH! MMMFPH!"
Kassim tries to stop himself from screaming out his lungs to everyone in the woods. His jacket sleeve is at least an inch down his mouth. He sees the mobian in frightening detail. A male squirrel-like humanoid, he pushes desperately at the dying tree's bark. And yes, the mobian is literally in the tree. His torso sticks out one end as his head has broken through to the other. Whatever Kassim did to him, it hurt, and would certainly leave scars. But the creature has almost zero difficulty getting out as Kassim attempts to return to his bike. The human put his machine upright, and tried to pedal, but it once again got stuck in the mud and gravel.
Even attempting to return to his bike at the time is an enormous mistake.
The rebel takes advantage of the opportunity and jumps onto Kassim. In the struggle, the enemy gets his hands on the item that Kassim prizes most.
The cyan Chaos Emerald.
Thinking quickly as the mobian's superior strength threatens to overwhelm him, Kassim pushes the emerald deep into the side of the mobian's face. The rebel let out a pained yelp, flinching at the sensation of his own muscles delivering a self-inflicted injury. Kassim tries to walk backwards and pull out the revolver.
BANG
BANG
One shot hit the mobian square in the shoulder while the other veered wildly to the left as Kassim's arm was pulled away. Adrenaline surged through Kassim. From what he learned in the years past, the Kingdom of Acorn doesn't surrender. Acornites believe surrender equates to dishonor and weakness, and its obsession with the past and fear of the future driven its nation into the ground. Kassim feared that these rebels would follow the same doctrine that brought destruction to its own people almost as much as he fears the regime that replaced it. He rotates the gun 90 degrees to get a shot at the mobian's head.
BANG
The mobian's scalp was grazed, but the slug bounced into the clouds. The mobian attempted to move the gun further down, hoping to take Kassim out. Kassim held firm to the trigger, not wanting to fire his last shot. Not yet. He focuses on the emerald, trying to keep his hands on it and thinking of a way out of his predicament. He feeds it his fear, his tension, and wills it to give him strength. At this moment, he desires power most of all, power in the physical form, at least only for a moment.
"YIIIII EEK EEK EEK MRNNNG!"
The mobian's skin was overcome with a burning sensation which was enough for Kassim to point the revolver, square at his face. He readies himself to fire once more, to free himself from being lost forever once again.
POP
The gun misfires. The cylinder pops out of its frame, splintering apart into a dangerous spray of metal fragments. Both parties were taken aback by this, but the mobian was able to get an advantage again and pries the emerald out of Kassim's hand.
"NO! Give it back! You don't know what you have done!"
Kassim tries to reach out and reclaim the emerald, but the world shrinks back at him. Colors warp. The weightlessness he felt last time was replaced by a harsh, burning sensation as Chaos energy starts to wisk him to a destination determined solely by chance, by the whims of a god neither benevolent nor sapient.
Once more, he becomes lost in spacetime.