ayyy! I’ll do one each for one of my Splatoon and non-Splatoon characters.
- Prior to his death, Wei was a cab driver in Hong Kong. With his elderly parents unable to work and siblings in school, he was essentially the breadwinner for the family.
- Unlike most octolings in Inkopolis, Oiwi was born in the city and it’s all he’s ever known. His name means “Native” in Hawaiian, a surviving word of a language long-dead by the time of Splatoon.
Founded in 2018 following the nationalization of the 3 largest oil companies in the country, RUGEN - Russian Energy Enterprise is the state-owned oil and energy corporation of the Russian Federation. RUGEN holds sole access to all of Russia’s and Venezuela’s oil reserves, making the corporation the most valuable oil company in the world behind Saudi Arabia’s enterprises.
In Meltdown the company opts to sponsor a team in the UCRA shortly after acquiring Venezuela’s oil reserves. The company sponsors driver Ivan Tatarsky in the #89 GVA Soyuz (based on the UAZ Patriot).
Several decades after the events Meltdown, the long unstable Russian Federation collapses into multiple independent states and RUGEN is broken up with it. RUGEN’s Hover equivalent, Primgiya, is reformed as a private energy company based in Primorsky Krai, an independent state roughly the size of the Russian Federations’s Far Eastern Federal District.
I’ve been working a ton on my character PFC Mark Pelayo and his universe lately. The subject of both The Outbreak and The Escape, this here is how I’d envision his first journal entry the night following The Escape would look.
Did you get the inspiration for the Popco logo from that Pepsi Design Document?
I took a few cues from it, yes. The idea for Popco came to me a little while after looking through it, which was useful since I was going for a “futuristic drink company that owns every drink” look.
The Neil Cicierga song about that document also gave me stuff even, lmao
Proudly serving as the flag carrier of Japan for several centuries, NIA/NAS prides itself on its easily recognizable corporate identity and inherent “Japaneseness” - so much so that the airline’s livery has hardly changed since the current iteration was introduced in the mid-1990s.
In Meltdown the airline is the largest airline and flag carrier of Japan, opting to be one of the opening sponsors for the first year of the UCRA League. The company sponsors driver Fusao Hirai in the #87 Astigos Razon TS (based on the Toyota Land Cruiser 70).
Between the timelines of Hover and Meltdown the company evolved drastically, although its branding retained the same general look the company was one of the first to operate inter-planetary passenger flights, linking Tokyo with the Tsuki no Chiheisen Lunar Colony.
In Hover the air/spaceline remains the Japanese flag carrier, although in a far, far larger capacity as more people travel via air and space than ever before. The company has had a long presence as a racing sponsor stretching centuries, and has been a sponsor of the Nitro Boost Cup since its founding. During Hover’s timeline, the company sponsors Aiko Inoue on his board Crimson Smoke.
Here we have a circle
Smooth and inoffensive
This will be the basis
For your revolution
Founded in the 2300s following the merger of soft drink giants Popsi and KolaCola, Popco is a megacorporation that is largest drink producer in the world. Covering over 90% of the worldwide drink market and having sole ownership of vital pure water supplies in nations such as Iceland and Fiji, Popco is everywhere and will not let you forget it. Popco is not just a drink company, it is the drink company.
The current logo depicts a large, blue bubble with smaller bubbles fizzing off on the top right like a soda. The first “o” in Popco is a simple design depicting the top view of an open glass soda bottle, with the bottlecap resting nearby. An earlier iteration of the Popco logo was essentially the same, except in a bright yellow color.
As part of its strategy to maintain a continued worldwide presence, a sponsorship in the world-famous Nitro Boost Cup seemed only natural. Sponsoring racer Chika Ito on the board Sapphire Surge for the last four years, Ito’s relative success in the League suggests that Popco is going to retain their sponsorship for years to come.
A divergence of “The Outbreak”, this is where PFC Mark Pelayo’s story begins. This piece details the climax of the fall of New York City and collapse of Operation Securing Liberty through the eyes of someone on the battlefield.
A member of the 106th Rescue Wing of the New York Air National Guard, Private First Class Mark Pelayo has found himself in the same boat as every other civilian in the New York Exclusion Zone after his chopper crashes in the middle of Brooklyn. With less than 24 hours before the entire city is leveled with missiles, he makes a desparate journey through the New York City outskirts to escape certain death. Will he find safety beyond the danger zone, or has the rest of the country suffered the same fate?
Were it not for the skyscraper fires and smell of rotten flesh in the air, the haunting yellow glow visible from the air around Manhattan Island looked almost beautiful.
A dozen hours after the decision was made to destroy the city, the last units of the 106th Rescue Wing of the New York Air National Guard had just pulled out of the outpost at the East 34th Street Heliport. As the post was being overrun, only three helicopters managed to flee the chaos. On board one of the surviving helicopters, Echo One-Three, was two pilots, PFC Mark Pelayo, PFC Jennifer Hamilton, and nearly a dozen civilians who had managed to clamber aboard as the helicopter was taking off.
“Overlord, this is Echo One-Three. We are pulling out with Echo One-One and One-Two. We are currently heading Southwest along the East River with 15 souls on board. Relay orders.” Keating, the lead chopper pilot, radioed.
“Hammer Two-Two, evacuate to Gabreski Air Base via best possible route. Airspace over Long Island is closed to all non-military traffic. Overlord copies all.”
“Copy, Overlord.”
The helicopter started turning Northeast towards Gabreski. Pelayo and Hamilton sat right behind the pilots in the troop compartment, keeping an eye on the panicked civilians evacuating with them.
Hamilton leaned out of the aircraft and looked at the city below. “Jesus Christ, look at the Brooklyn Bridge.” Pelayo moved over to her and looked outside as well. The bridge had been torn in half, clearly by bombing, in order to halt the advance of infected from Manhattan. He could only hope that strategy had worked.
Suddenly, one of the civilians began twitching and retching. Oh, shit. Pelayo and Hamilton immediately pulled out their pistols. “Watch it! Are you infected?” Pelayo yelled.
“No, no! Fuck, don’t shoot!” the man replied with his hands in the air. The other civilians began to panic, getting as far away from the man as possible in the cramped helicopter.
“Don’t fucking lie to me, I know what infection looks like. You’re dead wrong if you think I’m going to let you turn and kill everyone else on here. You’ve got 10 seconds to explain yourself before I shoot you and throw you off the goddamn helicopter.” Pelayo responded.
“…why would you shoot a man before throwing him off a fucking helicopter? I’m not infected, just a stomach bug I assure youuuuuuuu…” The man fell silent. As the two soldiers kept their guns trained on him, ready to fire, the man’s eyes turned a milky white.
“Shit, he’s turned!” Pelayo and Hamilton both shot at the infected, but before the shots could connect he had lunged for the nearest person next to him. “Oh god!” his victim screamed. Everyone on board had flown into a panic, and in the chaos the two soldiers made a desperate attempt to eliminate those bit and protect the survivors.
“Overlord, this is Echo One-Three! Mayday, mayday, we have a infected on board!” the Keating desperately radioed. No response. “Goddammit! Pelayo, Hamilton, get control of the situation back there!”
“What, do you think we’re not fucking trying!?” Pelayo yelled back. The two soldiers continued to fight, shooting at and kicking those turned off the helicopter. By this point their survivor count of 11 had dwindled to 4.
In the midst of the chaos, an infected managed to slip by them and lunge for Keating. “Oh god, help!” He called to the two. Hamilton rushed over to him and quickly threw the infected off the off the helicopter. “I-I think he fucking bit me. He fucking bit me!” Keating replied.
Pelayo and Hamilton were unsure of what to do. The co-pilot, Sanders, looked over at them nervously. “I’m fucking done for. I’m a lost cause.” Keating said, resigned to his fate. “Don’t shoot me just yet. I’m going to get us on the ground.”
Pelayo and Hamilton glanced at each other in silence. Neither wanted to say it, but they understood they were thinking the same thing. Can’t Sanders just take over? Pelayo glanced over to Keating, and then back to Hamilton. “Let’s leave him be, but keep an eye on him. We can…take care of this on the ground.” Hamilton whispered. Pelayo nodded, and and the two took their seats again keeping a close eye on the pilots.
Not even five minutes later, Keating started to twitch and retch. He was turning. Pelayo and Hamilton leaped out of their seats, and trained their guns on Keating. He didn’t react to their presence, and before they could fire he lunged for Sanders.
“Oh fuck, get him off me!” Sanders cried. “Watch the controls, if you hit anything important this thing’s going straight into the ground!” Both Pelayo and Hamilton tried to keep Keating off him as Sanders desperately wrestled control of the helicopter.
“Overlord in the blind, this is Echo One-Three! Mayday, mayday, the lead pilot has turned! We’re fucking dying up here, One-Three will be attempting to land!” Sanders radioed out.
With Keating desperately trying to grab him and the two soldiers the only barrier between him and a painful death at the hands of the plague, Sanders found it nigh impossible to keep the helicopter steady. Knowing he couldn’t hold on anly longer, he aimed for a clearing in Highland Park. “Everybody hold on, this is going to be rough! Brace, BRACE!”
As the chopper slammed into the ground, Pelayo was miraculously thrown clear of the wreckage. He came to a few minutes later, badly hurt, and laid eyes on the burning wreckage of the helicopter. “Oh, shit.” he said, limping over to the site as fast as he could.
He trudged through the warped metal and mangled bodies for any signs of life. “Hamilton! Sanders! Anyone!” It soon became clear he was the only survivor. “Oh, god. Oh god oh god oh god.” Pelayo fell to the ground, kneeling with his face in his hands.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure in a pilot’s garb stumble out of the wreckage. A survivor! Pelayo began to walk over to him “Oh thank god, Sanders!” As Sanders turned to face him, Pelayo stopped dead in his tracks. It wasn’t Sanders. He was one of them.
Pelayo immediately pulled out his combat knife, the only usable weapon he still had with him after the crash, and took a step back. “Stay back, or I will use lethal force!” He knew it was futile, but he still hoped that maybe Sanders would stop. The infected Sanders began shambling towards him.
“I’m warning you. No one else needs to fucking die here.” Pelayo called out. Sanders kept going. Pelayo took another step back.
“Last warning, Sanders!” The infected didn’t respond and just kept coming. Pelayo held his ground. As Sanders got close enough to lunge for him, he parried its grab, grabbed hold of its chest, and began repeatedly stabbing it in the left temple. He kept at it for a full minute, refusing to stop until it had gone completely limp. Only then did he let go, the now-dead Sanders falling to the ground.
Pelayo stared at the body lying at his feet, breathing heavily. “Goddammit, Sanders.” He said sadly. Pelayo glanced back to the crash site. I hope he was the only one from the crash, he thought. He then looked at the sky, and could see One-One and One-Two in the distance continuing towards Gabreski Air Base. They weren’t coming back for him, they probably assumed no survivors.
“Well, isn’t that fucking great.” Pelayo walked back to the crash site to scavenge whatever he could. The only things remotely usable were a dirty but otherwise intact MOLLE rucksack and a damaged - but repairable - M9 pistol with no bullets. Far from the best loadout, but it would have to do.
Pelayo couldn’t afford to dawdle, the racket of the downed chopper almost certainly attracted every infected in the area to his location and the entire New York metro area was to be leveled in just under a day. He had to get moving before more showed up, to run as far away from here as possible.
One of the big tropes that's always bothered me about zombies in media is how they almost always manage to overwhelm humanity to the point of near extinction. A couple years back I planned out a story and a main character for a scenario where a large scale outbreak occurs, but the US Military is actually able to give the infection a run for its money. I never got around to fleshing that plot out, until now.
This is the backstory for the universe of my character PFC Mark Pelayo’s scenario, explaining the origins of the initial infection. A second piece from Mark’s point of view titled “The Escape” can be found here.
October 1994: Researchers in the Amazon Rainforest discover a new species of virus named lyssis malesuada with the ability to infect, kill, and control the corpses of certain orders of mammals. After preliminary research proves a potential harm to humans, areas of the Rainforest where the virus is proven to exist are declared exclusion zones and closed to human development under the guise of environmental protection. Over the next two decades, little research is done on the disease due to the small range of the disease and low priority of doing so.
July 2013: An tourist from New York City on an illegal tour within the protected zone of the Rainforest is bitten by an infected rodent. The tourist has the cut inspected at a hospital in Santarem, Brazil, however nothing appears out of the ordinary and he returns home a week later.
Jan. 17th, 2014, 1:34 PM: After the disease gestates within him for more than six months, the tourist suddenly collapses and dies en route to Lenox Hill Hospital despite the efforts of medical personnel to save him. The seemingly dead man turns shortly after arrival to the hospital and injures three medical personnel before he is restrained.
4:23 PM: The CDC and FEMA receives word of the situation, and after researching the victim soon links the incident in New York to the disease in Brazil. Agents arrive on the scene by 5:30 PM, quarantining the hospital and placing an exclusion zone reaching from E 74th to E 79th St. and Madison to 3rd Ave. around it. Some two dozen people determined to have been in immediate contact with the victim (”Patient Zero”) at the time of his death are placed in isolation, and civilians in the hospital and exclusion zone are evacuated to other areas of the city.
9:04 PM: Everyone injured by Patient Zero suddenly dies, reanimating anywhere from a half an hour to a few minutes later. Security teams are initially successful in containing the outbreak, but researchers, guards, and patients who were infected in the chaos soon reanimate on the spot, overwhelming the surviving teams. A distress signal is sent to containment units outside before contact with Lenox Hill Hospital is lost. Despite the chaos inside, the perimeter outside the hospital is held.
9:30-10PM: As the full gravity of the situation becomes clear, FEMA issues a public announcement declaring the Upper East Side and Lenox Hill a disaster zone, evacuating uninfected civilians within the extended quarantine area and closing FDR Drive to everything except emergency units. Units of the NY National Guard’s 42nd Infantry Division are called in to maintain the quarantine, taking over for the FEMA agents. As military units enter the fray, “Operation Securing Liberty” officially begins. Normal life in the city grinds to a halt as public services cease and people begin to flee the city.
10:25 PM: Soon after the 42nd takes over the infected inside Lenox Hill suddenly swarm outside at once, attacking anything in their way: FEMA agents, National Guard soldiers, and fleeing civilians alike. Although the 42nd eliminates countless hostiles, the dozens of infected from the hospital grows into hundreds and force the units to begin pulling back several blocks.
10:40 PM: The entirety of Manhattan Island is declared a disaster zone, and evacuations of civilians out of Manhattan begin. Bridges are closed and turned into checkpoints, and civilians checked for infection before being allowed for evacuate. More National Guard units are called in, including the 106th Rescue Wing. Throughout the night and into the morning the National Guard is able to keep a foothold and contains the infection to Lenox Hill and the Upper East Side.
Jan 18th, 2014, 5:30 AM: Organized evacuation centers begin operation, and individual passenger cars are barred from evacuating on the bridges. Centers are established at many major landmarks in the city, including Times Square, Grand Central Station, and the East 34th St. Helipad.
1:30 PM: As the 42nd pulls back, Lenox Hill and the Upper East Side are declared lost and targeted airstrikes commence. Lenox Hill Hospital, Central FDR Drive, and the Queensboro Bridge are one of many locations targeted and destroyed.
Jan. 18th - Feb. 3rd, 2014: Over 1.3 million civilians trapped in Manhattan are evacuated over the following two weeks, with another 700,000 presumed killed, infected, or left behind in the city. The National Guard holds out for those two weeks, slowly pulling back to the evacuation centers while sustaining heavy losses. On Jan. 21st, bridge evacuations cease and all land links to Manhattan Island are destroyed to prevent the spread of infection.
As a precaution, a 50-mile exclusion zone is declared around the New York City Metro Area late Jan. 24th, with evacuations of another 9 million in the affected areas beginning the next day. These evacuations begin with relative ease since cases of infection outside of Manhattan are limited. By Feb. 1st, the exclusion zone is largely deserted and evacuations slow. The zone is completely barricaded starting on the 1st, except for a handful of processing centers established on interstate highways to process any stragglers.
Feb. 3rd, 2014, 7:23 AM: As the few remaining evacuation centers in Manhattan report threats of being overrun, “Operation Securing Liberty” is declared a failure and the US National Guard declares the city lost, issuing an order for all remaining units to cease civilian evacuation and pull out. An ultimatum is issued for any other survivors in the city:
“In 36 hours, New York and a 50-mile perimeter around the city will be destroyed in a coordinated missile strike. Survivors who can escape Manhattan and reach evacuation centers on the edge of the zone along Interstates I-78, I-87, and I-495 will continue to be processed until 3 hours pre-detonation. GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN, THE CITY IS LOST.”
Feb. 3, 2014, 9 PM: The 106th Rescue Wing stationed at the East 34th St. Helipad is one of the last military detachments to leave the city, with Echo 1 evacuating with one final group of civilians 14 hours post-announcement as their position is overrun.
9:15 PM: En-route to Gabreski Air Base in eastern Long Island, Echo 1-3 is downed near West Islip after a civilian turns mid-flight and a pilot is bitten in the chaos. Survivors are unknown, but unlikely and the decision is made to press forward. Echo 1-1 and 1-2 safely arrive at Gabreski an hour later. [Pelayo’s story starts here.]
Feb. 4th, 2014, 5 PM: True to their word, the US Military halts further processing of survivors within the exclusion zone. Shoot-to-kill orders are given for any further escapees.
8 PM: The New York Metropolitan area is leveled by three non-nuclear thermobaric missiles, directed at Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Newark. A 30-mile radius around Manhattan Island is completely destroyed, taking with it hundreds of thousands of infected and stranded survivors. Another 20 miles outward is rendered uninhabitable and declared a danger zone. Initial reports indicate the infection is wiped out, but it’s possible something has survived...
A couple years ago a friend and I designed a character named Darya who was to be a deceased spirit or ghost of sorts. Although we worked a ton on the character, one area we didn’t visit a ton was her backstory and death. I decided to revisit the character; this 2,400 word short story covers Darya’s final hours.
Hope you lot enjoy it! It’s been some time since I last wrote anything of length, if you have any comments or feedback on this I’d love to hear it!
Chapter I: Boarding Call
Darya Vasnev checked the clock on the wall, and glanced back to the calendar. April 21st, 1985 at 6:30 AM. She was scheduled to pilot a flight from Moscow to East Berlin in just under an hour and a half. A young, intelligent woman in her early 20s with no family, it was a rare opportunity for someone like her to be able to fly outside of the Soviet Union - or be an airline pilot at all.
Usually they picked married pilots or those with lots of family to fly routes to non-Eastern Bloc countries or to destinations near Western borders, to minimize the chance of defection - people who had a lot to lose. But Darya had slipped through the cracks and ended up as the First Officer on this flight, a failing of the system in her favor. She had thought about it for years, and planned it for months: today was the day she was going to escape to the West.
She would be lying to herself if she said she had second thoughts about this. She had heard stories from her coworkers of people who fled the Soviet Union at the international stopover in Canada, and had considered waiting. But she knew she would never have the chance to do that, by the time she had the standing to pilot a trans-continental flight she'd have too much to lose to flee. Her mother was dead, she had few friends and other family, and there was no future for her here. She would never have another chance to flee like this again. She had to take this one.
As she sat and thought, the intercom in the staff area blared out "Vasnev and Boukreev for Flight 2684 at 8:20 AM, report to Gate 209 immediately." Darya grabbed her flight bag and immediately set out.
When she arrived at the gate, her copilot was already there. "Good morning First Officer Vasnev, I am Captain Boukreev. But you may call me Andrei." He extended his hand to shake.
"A pleasure to fly with you, Captain Bouk-ah, Andrei.” Darya shook his hand, a little embarrassed.
The two boarded their aircraft and took their positions in the cockpit. “Passengers are going to board shortly. Let’s start running through the checklist, shall we?”
“Very well.” Darya responded.
“Alright, let’s see. Oxygen is functional, cockpit door is closed, windows are locked...”
As the pair ran through the aircraft checklist, Darya ran through her plan again in her mind. She was to fly the plane as she would on any other flight until Captain Boukreev (hopefully) left the cockpit. At that point, she was going to lock him out and keep a normal flight to East Berlin’s Schönefeld Airport until she diverted to West Berlin’s Tegel Airport at the last second. Far from a foolproof plan, but she was confident she could make it to the ground before the Soviets could do anything about it.
As they wrapped up the checklist, a flight attendant came in through the cockpit door. “The aircraft is boarded, we’ll be closing the door momentarily.”
“Thank you for the notice, Natascha.” Captain Andrei responded.
He contacted the tower. “Sheremetyevo Ground, AviaSoyuz 2684 is ready for departure.”
“AviaSoyuz 2684, a pushback will be with you shortly. You are to proceed to Runway 24 Left via taxiways A and F.” the tower controller replied.
“Copy, 24L via A and F.” Captain Andrei responded.
Darya sat in silence as the aircraft began to move. “You seem nervous, Vasnev.” Captain Andrei said.
“It’s nothing major, just never flown a route this long before.” Darya said. The aircraft continued until it stopped before the end of the runway.
"Sheremetyevo Ground, AviaSoyuz 2684 is in position, ready to depart on Runway 24L." Captain Andrei called in through the radio.
"AviaSoyuz 2684, you are cleared for departure on Runway 24L to SXF." the tower controller replied.
Andrei accelerated the aircraft and maneuvered onto the runway. Once centered, he set the engines to full throttle and the plane began rolling down the runway. Within a minute the plane was airborne, bound to East Berlin.
Chapter II: Airborne
The first hour and a half of the flight was relatively uneventful, with Darya doing everything she would on any other flight. Eventually, Captain Andrei spoke up:
“I’m quite surprised they have you on this route. It isn’t often they have pilots with your standing flying these kinds of flights.”
“I suppose I just got lucky.” Darya simply responded.
Captain Andrei looked like he’d expected her to say more. When she didn’t, he simply turned his attention back to the aircraft and flew it in silence, glancing back at her occasionally.
Another 30 minutes pass. By this time they were over Poland, and more than two-thirds of the way there. Darya was starting to get anxious.
Damn it, will he ever leave? she thought to herself. She could see her plan unraveling in front of her eyes every second Andrei was still in the cockpit.
Just then, Andrei activated the autopilot and said "I'm going to the bathroom, keep an eye on things here until I return." Darya simply replied "Yes, captain." as he left the cockpit.
Darya immediately breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he was gone. And then she was hit with the true shock of what came next. Should I really do this? The moment I lock that door, I'm past the point of no return. This would be her only chance to do this. She had to take the risk, she would never get this chance again. Darya immediately locked the door.
Within a few minutes, Andrei had returned to the cockpit. He was audibly startled to see the door locked, and started knocking on it. "Vasnev, I need you to let me back in."
Shit, shit, shit, what can I say? Darya thought. She needed to buy as much time as she could, but she couldn't think of any other excuse for why she couldn't open the door. She remained silent.
"Vasnev, what the hell are y-" Andrei stopped mid-sentence. "Oh my god." he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. He ran away from the door back into the cabin.
"Oh hell." Darya cursed under her breath. He knew now, and soon enough everyone on the plane who could do anything about this would too. Sure enough, within a few minutes Andrei returned with backup.
"I think she's trying to find asylum. She'll probably be landing us in West Berlin." Andrei panicked. “It’s the only Western area on our route. What do we do!?”
Another man responded to Andrei, but he was just quiet enough that his words were inaudible. But Darya had a good guess who the man was: likely the KGB agent stationed on the flight. They always had one on board any flight of risk. Sure enough, a moment later the KGB agent kicked on the door. "Vasnev, open this door! Stop this charade, you know full well the punishment for defection is death! If you do not comply, I will break this down myself!"
Darya yelled in response "If you break in here, I'm going to crash this fucking plane with all of us in it! I'll send us right into the Baltic!" It frightened her to make these threats, but how else could she get them to back down? “Don’t fucking try me!”
More inaudible speech came from outside. Darya could just barely make out the phrase “Don’t provoke her” from the conversation. She breathed a sigh of relief. Well, that’s one way to buy time, she thought.
Chapter III: Full Alert
The flight continued on for another half hour. Darya flew the plane as normally as she could with the situation. She was about 20 minutes away from Berlin at this point - 20 minutes from safety. Shortly before crossing the Polish border she began turning to the north, in the direction of West Berlin’s Tegel Airport. Almost immediately, Schönefeld’s tower picked up on the change of course: “AviaSoyuz 2684, you are off course for Schönefeld approach. Adjust heading to 230°.”
“Acknowledged Schönefeld Approach, adjusting to 230°.” Darya proceeded on course to Tegel. They were catching on, she’d only have a few minutes before they went to full alert. A few minutes later, the tower radioed again” AviaSoyuz 2684, you are still off course for Schönefeld approach. Change your course immediately.”
Darya did not respond. “AviaSoyuz 2684, this is your final warning. Acknowledge and change course or fighter jets will be scrambled to respond.” Darya again did not respond. She decided this was the time to react, and tuned to Tegel. In broken German, she radioed “Tegel Tower, this AviaSoyuz Flight 2684. We are 15 minutes out, seeking landing clearance. We have intentions to defect!”
The Tower immediately responded. “AviaSoyuz 2684, you DO NOT have clearance. Change course immediately or we will be forced to take action.” Darya’s heart sank. She was so close to freedom, and this guy on the radio was the only thing in her way. No, she was not going to let this stop her! “Tegel Tower, we are landing with or without your permission. This is your call.” Silence. Then, a minute later the controller responded. “AviaSoyuz 2684, the tarmac is yours. Approach for 26 Right granted. God be with you.”
Darya breathed a sigh of relief. All she had to do was guide the plane down on the ground. She didn’t care what happened after, she knew she would be safe. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye she saw an East German fighter pull up on the right side of her aircraft. A moment later, another pulled up on her left. The pilot of the right plane radioed her in Russian. “AviaSoyuz 2684, do you read? Over.”
Oh god, the fighters. Darya thought. “This is AviaSoyuz 2684, I copy.” she responded.
“AviaSoyuz 2684, you are to divert course to Schönefeld Airport.” the fighter pilot responded.
“Negative, we are on course to Tegel.”
“AviaSoyuz 2684, you are to divert to Schönefeld immediately or we will be forced to shoot you down. This is your final warning.”
Darya was in a panic. “We have already communicated to Tegel Tower our intent to land and been given clearance for landing. We are 5 minutes away from the West Berlin border, and we have over 100 innocent souls on this aircraft. If you want to claim the lives of everyone on this plane and cause an international incident, then do it! BE MY FUCKING GUEST!”
Radio silence. The fighter jets continued to trail her for a moment, and then pulled back. Oh god, they’re actually going to do it, Darya thought. She winced, waiting for the moment her plane was going to be ripped to shreds. But it never came. After a minute, she looked out the side window behind her. There was no sight of the fighters. She breathed a sigh of relief, and began silently crying tears of joy. They’d pulled off. The Bloc didn’t care any more. She was free.
Chapter IV: Safety
After a moment she pulled herself together and focused out the window. She was over West Berlin now, only a few minutes away from Tegel. “Okay. Almost there. Let’s do this.” She pulled down the flaps in preparation for landing and aimed straight for Runway 26R. “AviaSoyuz 2684, downwind to Tegel.” Darya called to the tower, again in broken German.
1000 Meters.
Reduce thrust.
800.
600.
400.
Gear down.
200.
100.
Right by the runway by now. She could see the entire airport was at a standstill, and emergency vehicles were everywhere. Firetrucks, ambulances, police vans.
75.
50.
25.
Darya began lightly flaring the aircraft.
10.
She pulled back on the throttle, flaring even harder.
0.
Suddenly, the touchdown. Not her smoothest landing, but given the circumstances she’d give herself a pass.
Now, reverse thrust! Darya managed to bring the aircraft to a halt three-quarters way down the runway. “Welcome to Tegel, 2684.” A Tower controller responded, this time in Russian. “Proceed immediately to the left to the apron in front of the Lufthansa hangar. Do not deviate from this course.”
“Copy, Tegel Ground.” Darya began maneuvering the aircraft towards the apron. As she pulled into the designated spot, she breathed a sigh of relief. This was it. It was over. Whatever happened now, she’d be safe from here on. Suddenly, the radio blared to life one more time. “AviaSoyuz 2684, this is Commander Ziegler of the GSG-9. Anyone in the cockpit is to immediately exit the aircraft via the left side window and kneel on the ground with your hands behind your head.”
“AviaSoyuz 2684, acknowleged.” Darya responded. She opened up the escape rope compartment behind the pilot’s seat and opened the window.
She roped down the window of her aircraft, and knelt with her hands behind her head. This was it. She was safe. She was free! Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the passenger door of the aircraft fling open. She had no time to react as the KGB agent leaned out the door and shot at her several times, striking her down.
She fell to the ground, writhing in pain and hardly able to move. She looked over in the direction of the door, and saw the agent get taken out by bullets from the West German soldiers who had surrounded the plane. She prayed that this would be over soon.
A West German police officer cautiously came to her side. "Bist du in Ordnung? Kannst du mich verstehen?" Darya couldn't understand a word this man was saying, and just stared blankly at him. He turned to look behind and yelled at some people in the distance "Beeil dich hier, sie ist schwer verletzt!"
The officer stayed by her side as an ambulance crew arrived and loaded her onto a stretcher. As they took her away, she began sobbing. "Please God, I don't want to die! I'm not ready!"
The paramedic rolling her stretcher to an ambulance, a young man no older than his mid-20s, leaned over to her and spoke in broken Russian "You will be okay my friend, just hang on!"
Darya nodded and continued to sob quietly. "I'll be okay. I'll be okay." she muttered to herself as she slipped into unconsciousness.
I’ve been working with Sherly on some stuff for Hover/Meltdown lately, here’s a design for a new piece of tech from it.
The KUVA Electronics Pilot Vital Signs Monitor (also known as the “Infotag”) is a device that links with the pilot and their vehicle and monitors the status of both throughout a race. “Integrity” is the measure of vehicle and driver status, the value decreases to reflect damage or wear to either. A driver at 20%-30% integrity or less is considered critically injured, at which point the system switches into emergency mode and stabilizes the driver until they can be rendered aid.
This device is worn on either the chest or lower arm of a pilot’s suit, and a more rudimentary version is featured in Hover’s chronological predecessor, Meltdown.
I may be abroad but I’m not about to let my design skills get rusty.
This is a movie poster mockup based on some art by my friend Tee featuring their character Cassiopeia, from their fictional universe Project Takiraah. Go check their stuffs out!
andulkaphoto
germansingergirl
dededos
snowghoul
janainaart
yousharknotpass
jbbartram-illu
2087
titsay
