Eventually I had to leave the railing and head back down into the city, though I made sure to clip the recording of myself finding the door and the path I’d taken so that in the future I might be able to return. After all, moments where I could genuinely stop and relax were few and far between.

I chose not to participate in contracts offered by Bastion’s government, instead searching through the forums for anyone offering work. Most players were just looking to group up with others for a quest or two, though I did find the occasional odd job. The ones paying the most were similar to the raid I’d conducted on the Whitman warehouse, and so I kept scrolling through. One confrontation with Bastion SWAT was enough to thoroughly change my strategies for the foreseeable future.

Instead I looked into joining up for an expedition through the sewers, as there was a group of people wanting to see how far they could get via the underground tunnels leading out of the city. Their only problem was that they needed a guide out into the wilderness tunnels as the only map was for above ground travel. Wisely, I went back to the market to buy a wetsuit and some cheap clothes that I wouldn’t mind discarding after the job was finished.

I settled on some watertight boots, cargo pants, and a bright pink t-shirt so that if something went wrong I could be identified as a friendly amidst the heat of battle. The wetsuit was the most expensive part of the ensemble, costing forty credits for one without any tears in the material. As for keeping my face unrecognizable, I just bought another hat and a pair of normal sunglasses, leaving the baseball cap and aviators back in my apartment along with my good clothes. I even found out that AZTea had saved the cutting torch from the raid, even going so far as to replace the fuel cell. I swiped it from the storage shed before heading to the meeting point at the east gate, figuring I might be able to use it to cut through any grates put in place to stop us.

It was this kind of thinking that ended up landing me the job of getting through blockages, as while most players who had shown up were trying to boast about their ability to guide the group through the sewers, I just lifted up the cutting torch and slightly revealed a grenade that had been in my pocket. I’d also done away with my shoulder holster, opting to keep my Recycler Pistol in one of the larger pockets instead.

The other players protested about me getting picked since I was essentially showing that I had no experience in guiding people through the sewers by simply showing off the cutting torch. A large man by the name of Undertow238 responded by telling them that they still needed a guide, though I’d be used if they encountered obstacles.

Another round of boasting and bragging started off between the small group of potential guides before Undertow just picked at random, settling on a guy whose name was Blank, a reference to something I couldn’t remember. From there the two of us were led down into the sewers to meet the rest of the team, made up of three other players who had for some reason, all decided to wear matching leather jackets. The smell of the sewers easily overpowered my wonder at their choice of attire, my hand covering my mouth and nose instinctively.

Never going to get used to this.

Blank walked right by me, not even bothering to plug his nose. “You’ll get used to it eventually.” I simply stared at him with a deadpan expression, saying nothing. Actual flashlights were revealed and turned on, lighting up the concrete tunnel as we began traveling, Blank taking the lead while I walked in the middle of the group. When questioned if I had any other weapons besides the grenade in my pocket, I showed the Recycler Pistol off for a few moments, the barrel glinting as a flashlight was pointed at me. This seemed to satisfy the group as they had no more questions for me, just bantering between themselves. Undertow handed us both one thousand credits as we went, saying that we were meant to get them as far as humanly possible via the sewers while they handled the combat.

Following the guide took awhile, but eventually he gave us a thumbs up. “We’re out of Bastion and through the Ruined Zone. Welcome to-” He never got that far, a bolt of bluish white energy impacting against his head. He was fragments before he hit the ground, a medical kit dropping where he’d been. “Ambush! Flashlights front!” I dropped to the ground and reached for my pistol as energy bolts flew all around us. All of the lights concentrated on where the fire was coming from, revealing a grotesque looking bandit wielding a crank powered energy cannon.

I got my gun out just as the battle had gotten into full swing, firing off two shots of my own toward the hunchbacked mutant. Undertow and the team medic, a man who’d identified himself as Harry, crossed to the other side of the sewer where a support beam held up the street above, a rifle and pistol echoing off the walls with each shot, eventually becoming so loud that I saw the muffled noise debuff make a comeback, the world going quiet. I didn’t stop shooting until the brute finally fell, my hearing only coming back after a full minute of waiting. I didn’t even know if I’d hit him at all.

One of the others was poking the body with a combat knife while Undertow was inspecting the weapon. “It’s a white energy weapon. Not bad considering it took out our guide with one shot to the head, but it’s pretty heavy.” He then held it up to the others. “Our first bit of loot for the journey.” The rest of the group cheered with glee at having gotten an energy weapon as their first item.

I contented myself with salvaging Blank’s medical kit, supplementing my own with the newly acquired supplies.

Undertow came to me as we started traveling again, telling me that with our guide being dead, I’d be the one to help get us through any grates or other regular blockages. I agreed without hesitation, hoping to get my hands on some rare gear if I was lucky. Even if I didn’t, I was still a thousand credits richer than I’d been earlier.

We had to travel slower with Blank dead, though we did continue heading further and further outward. I was very happy to find out that I could in fact use the cutting torch to get through sewer grates blocking our path, feeling at least a minimal amount of job security in the fact that they might not have an easy time pressing forward without me.

This abruptly ended when we came upon a solid sheet of metal that I could only barely cut through with the torch. Once a large enough hole was made the power cell didn’t have enough left to get through anything else, and things changed dramatically on the other side. Metal walls, paths, and rows of lights that hadn’t yet burned out. The sounds of metal feet patrolling through halls of steel. There was no sewage at this point as we were far enough out that nothing was left to flow.

I lied through my teeth, saying I’d be able to get through maybe one more of those things before the torch ran out of power. Their greed blinded them to the potential dangers that had essentially doused my instincts in gasoline and set them on fire. This worked to my advantage, letting me fade to the back of the group slowly before finally allowing my footsteps to fall silent. They didn’t even notice me leave, my decision foregoing any loot that might’ve gone to me.

My boots echoed on the metal paths as I sprinted back to the hole I’d cut through once I thought it safe enough. I didn’t slow down as robotic feet sounded out a good distance behind me. Even more distant was the sound of gunfire. The lights turned red just as I got back into the stone made sewer tunnels, my lighter flickering to life.

I heard the sounds of menacing laughter from the way we’d come. Bandits, monsters, and other nasty things waited for me on the way back. I realized my breathing was unsteady and my hands were shaking a bit. As much as I wanted to just start running and not look back, I forced myself to breathe deeply until I had calmed down. It didn’t help, my mind simply beginning to feel the creeping darkness closing in again as it had done many times before. I thought about just shooting myself through the head to spare myself the panic.

Before my fear could completely take over, I punched myself in the face with as much force as I could bring to bear. It stunned me for a moment, the fear receding. I did it again. Then again. I beat myself until finally I wasn’t scared, but angry at myself for having been afraid. It wasn’t a great solution, but it was better than losing my mind in the middle of nowhere. I could've done without the health loss, though.

I began walking back along the paths, mentally daring anything to attack me. Only fragile bravado and a tight grip on my Recycler Pistol kept me moving, the sputtering flame of my lighter doing its best to ward away the dark.

This strategy worked well up until I came upon the first battle, another mutated bandit carrying a full fledged chain gun, the likes of which I only expected to see mounted on heavy vehicles. I saw him just as he saw me, dropping to the floor as he brought the death machine around, bullets cracking the walls and shredding brickwork to pieces. It was only the first wild spray of a reacting enemy, so I managed to get off three shots before the gunfire was brought back toward me, tracer rounds screaming off into the gloom.

I pulled out my one grenade in a panic, ripping out the pin and hurling it toward the mutant enemy while rolling off the path and into the empty space where raw sewage should’ve been, hitting the ground hard. The gunfire lanced over me and landed on where I’d been laying prone, churning the concrete like it was wet tissue paper. Then the grenade went off, stunning the overly strong bandit, and I leaped forward with my pistol raised, firing with reckless abandon as my boots pounded against the dirt.

He was off balance, his chain gun pointing at the wall away from me as he tried to shield his eyes without letting go of the oversized weapon. Getting in close was easy enough, and I shoved the barrel of the pistol into his misshapen face, pulling the trigger a total of five times before he finally went down, crashing into the path with a thud before shattering. The chain gun remained. I shivered as I looked at the rounds feeding into the weapon. They were massive, big enough to tear through my body and then some with a single shot. I tried lifting the giant gun to no avail, disappointed in my lack of strength. Then I tried rolling it, finding no success. Finally, I tried dragging it. It moved maybe an inch, but that could’ve been my imagination.

Finally sighing in resignation towards my pitifully small muscles, I left the weapon where it was, forcing myself to be content with my pistol that had unlimited ammo. It was a crying shame for such a powerful gun to be left lying in the sewers like that. I wondered if I could get some random players down to haul it back, but quickly brushed off the idea.

It was in this manner that I banished my fear, muttering to myself the rest of the way back, occasionally encountering less threatening enemies and dealing with them as best I could manage, which wasn’t very well.

By the time I got back into the Bastion sewers I’d collected another three hundred credits from the odd humanoid monsters, and a pump shotgun that kicked like an angry bull due to having no stock attached. I sighed as I stared down at what I viewed as a consolation prize. It was something, at least.

I burned the clothes at the soonest opportunity, gagging multiple times from the stench alone.