An underground bunker located away from the main
house. This fallout shelter was designed specifically
for air raids and features thick walls made from lead
and other materials intended to block radiation. A
computer terminal within has been connected to the
house's network system should an emergency
necessitate remote access.
Type: @Blueprint, @DeadEnd, @OuterRoom
SHELTER protects you from the negative effects of the next 3 RED ROOMS drafted.
Note
Remain where you are for now. Given that the
Red Guard is due tomorrow, we've agreed with
your plan and have disabled remote access to
the other terminals and have sealed the
network mainframe.
Regardless of the danger, I am still not
willing to risk removing SHELTER from the
draft pool while the three of you are down
there. Our best bet is to sit tight and hope
for a little bit of luck.
Picture
Electronic Mail
from : R. Moore » stay put » 20:40 02-28
It's finally happening.
We just got confirmation from our source that the Redguard
is coming tomorrow to begin their fornaml inquiries into the
disappearance. At this point, it's going to be too risky to
move you until next week at the earliest. Just hang tight for
now.
- R
from : R. Moore » re: the situation » 02:37 02-25
I passed the message on and your uncle says he may have
an idea for a more long term solution but it's going to
require some doing. I'm not sure what exactly he has in
mind but this morning when I looked at today's blue prints,
I saw he had drafted the pump room, a floorplan I haven't
seen used in a very, very long time.
I have a feeling you all may be taking a boat ride shortly.
to : R. Moore » the situation » 11:30 02-23
In terms of area, there's not nearly as much room here as I
remembered from my youth. If it was just me, I wouldn't mind,
but with four of us and the space we are going to need for
planning I don't expect this to be a sustainable situation for
more than a week. A fortnight at best.
from : R. Moore » re: electronic mail » 11:12 02-22
Yes, and don't worry - this communication method is fully
secure. I am the only lab technician with network access and
the only one who uses this terminal. I'm working to get you
some more supplies, but I'm not focusing on essentials as I
believe there's enough food in the shelter to last for the
duration. Though I think it'd be wise if you can do a quick
inventory to confirm that.
Time Lock Safe
Red Letter #7
from Courtney to Herbert S. Sinclair
Dear Uncle,
The disappearance of my cousin Mary
has long sat unfavorably with me and
my father. And I will freely admit to
you that the chilly airs of
indifference you may have felt in my
presence can be attributed entirely to
the suspicions that I have harbored
for these past years. Suspicions
entirely aimed at yourself.
And while I have never had the
opportunity to prove it, I felt very
strongly that you had some deeper
involvement in those events 6 years
ago. The circulating rumors of those
months did nothing but further
reinforce my convictions in this fact.
Those of us that are once bitten are
twice shy and I am aware of the cost
my ageressively aloof behavior has had
on the social standing of our family.
I do not apologize for my actions,
though I am now willing to admit that
the conclusions I reached may have
been flawed.
Last week, I had a confidential
conversation with one of our mutual
acquaintances. A conversation that has
shed more light on this mystery than all
of my father's countless fruitless
inquiries over the years.
I now have reason to believe that you
were in fact responsible for smuggling
my cousin under cover of night across
the red border to the southern seafront.
And I believe this may have occurred in
September, a full 7 months after she was
reported missing. A date that coincides
not with her public "disappearance" in
February but instead with the notable
theft of the Ruby Crown.
If the Black Water insurgents were in
fact responsible for the heist as some
have claimed, I believe this scenario
entirely plausible. And the fact that 2
of the crown's eight rubies have now
surfaced has given me renewed optimism
that she is still alive.
Alive, safe and finally free.
Perhaps, my willingness to accept such
a sensational story betrays my own
desperation.
Desperation for answers. Desperation for
hope. And desperation for a narrative
in which you are not the villain.
In that distant land we all dream of,
the land where the strangling crimson
curtains draped across our sky are
pulled back, and the windows and
shutters of discontent flung wide open.
In that distant dand, I pray one day
to find our Marion safe, happy and
absolved.