Rift Station: Open Worlds
You're the private guard for Piper Calavera, a woman with short blonde hair and a job at the rift station. At nine years old, you were only half her age when you were hired. Several of the Calaveras had just been accused of stealing a wide variety of items, the most important of which being a blueprint for an android designed to work as a volunteer's "organs," providing clean air and converting exerted energy back into usable energy, so to speak. To this day, the blueprint is still missing.
The Calaveras received countless death threats, and after Piper's guardians, in addition to the people who were with him at the time, vanished on their trip to a meeting with the Emittiers, they began to hire people to become personal guards (after screening them carefully, of course, to prevent further assassination attempts). They were desperate for safety, and you were desperate for... well, it's sort of embarrassing.
At any rate, now that the Calaveras no longer need to worry about whether or not they'll make it to the next day, your job has shifted from protecting Piper to keeping her sane. And when she flings the door to your room open with a small smile on her face, you know that your job has just gotten harder.
"Hi, Tara. I gambled a bit today," she says in greeting.
You raise your eyebrows. The way she phrases it makes everything sound so much worse.
"I knew you wouldn't approve," she adds, "but listen. You know how people are volunteering to go into that rift? Well, one of my coworkers said that the newest volunteer—the one who went into an uncharted world—was going to die before finding a way to make contact with us, but I bet otherwise."
"And what exactly did you bet?" you ask.
"Myself," she says simply.
"Care to elaborate?"
"Oh, he wanted to add me to his family," she explains. "So it doesn't really matter if the volunteer actually dies or something, because as long as you're here to protect me, I won't have to worry about who else I'm with. And if I win the bet, I get to read his documents."
That sounds like a fishy deal, although that might just be because Piper isn't the best of describing things. You can tell that she has no idea of what would happen to you if she lost the bet. For one thing, the coworker specifically wanted Piper, probably because eye candy is rare nowadays. Out of the list of adjectives that could describe you, "beautiful" was not one of them; there was a good chance that you would not be allowed to join this family. And anything could happen to Piper once the two of you were separated, especially considering how Piper had never been especially good at taking care of herself.
You know that you should try your best to make sure that the volunteer survives and succeeds. Not just because all lives matter, but also because if the volunteer fails, you might never see Piper again. And whatever it is that you want to do, you'll have to do it as soon as possible, because the volunteer is leaving tomorrow.
The Calaveras received countless death threats, and after Piper's guardians, in addition to the people who were with him at the time, vanished on their trip to a meeting with the Emittiers, they began to hire people to become personal guards (after screening them carefully, of course, to prevent further assassination attempts). They were desperate for safety, and you were desperate for... well, it's sort of embarrassing.
At any rate, now that the Calaveras no longer need to worry about whether or not they'll make it to the next day, your job has shifted from protecting Piper to keeping her sane. And when she flings the door to your room open with a small smile on her face, you know that your job has just gotten harder.
"Hi, Tara. I gambled a bit today," she says in greeting.
You raise your eyebrows. The way she phrases it makes everything sound so much worse.
"I knew you wouldn't approve," she adds, "but listen. You know how people are volunteering to go into that rift? Well, one of my coworkers said that the newest volunteer—the one who went into an uncharted world—was going to die before finding a way to make contact with us, but I bet otherwise."
"And what exactly did you bet?" you ask.
"Myself," she says simply.
"Care to elaborate?"
"Oh, he wanted to add me to his family," she explains. "So it doesn't really matter if the volunteer actually dies or something, because as long as you're here to protect me, I won't have to worry about who else I'm with. And if I win the bet, I get to read his documents."
That sounds like a fishy deal, although that might just be because Piper isn't the best of describing things. You can tell that she has no idea of what would happen to you if she lost the bet. For one thing, the coworker specifically wanted Piper, probably because eye candy is rare nowadays. Out of the list of adjectives that could describe you, "beautiful" was not one of them; there was a good chance that you would not be allowed to join this family. And anything could happen to Piper once the two of you were separated, especially considering how Piper had never been especially good at taking care of herself.
You know that you should try your best to make sure that the volunteer survives and succeeds. Not just because all lives matter, but also because if the volunteer fails, you might never see Piper again. And whatever it is that you want to do, you'll have to do it as soon as possible, because the volunteer is leaving tomorrow.