“I can show you the rest of the camp if you like,” he offered.
“Perfect. But first…” She hesitated, trying to recall Arthur’s phrasing. “What was it? Hook myself to Tomsville?”
Samuel laughed. “Bind yourself. Set your respawn point. We’ll hit the barracks first, then I’ll take you around to the shops, get you some quests. Sound good?”
“Perfect,” she said, falling into step beside him. After a beat, curiosity got the better of her. “Hey, how’d this place get the name ‘Tomsville’? Seems a little… presumptuous.” She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes widening.
He barked a laugh. “No worries. Not presumptuous, just a dig between players.” They stopped outside a container-home. “Got a sleeping bag or bedroll?”
She shook her head, and he gave her a mock scolding frown. “Mav, I can’t just give you everything.” Her shoulders slumped, then he grinned. “I’m messing with you. Let’s teach you your first bit of crafting.”
He dug into his inventory, pulling out blankets, plastic sheeting, and a ball of twine, passing them over before gesturing in the air.
SamuelAdamx would like to teach you how to craft a Sleeping Bag
Accept? [Yes][No]
She focused on [Yes], and the steps appeared in her mind as if she’d always known them. In moments, her hands had assembled a rough but functional sleeping bag.
“Perfect, that’ll add to your survival skill.” He said and led her inside the barracks, rows of bunks lined both walls. Samuel gestured for her to pick one. She unrolled her sleeping bag halfway down the row. A prompt lit up in her HUD:
Do you wish to set ‘Tomsville’ as your respawn point?
[Yes][No]
She focused on [Yes].
Tomsville is now your respawn point. As Tomsville is a settlement, you will respawn with full health, rest, food, and drink. All diseases and debuffs will be cleared, and your personal storage bag will respawn with you.
“Oh good, now that’s done.” Mav brushed her hands against her thighs as she and Samuel stepped out of the barracks. “Now, how about that story?” she prompted a small, curious tilt to her head. She was genuinely intrigued by how a name like Tomsville could be a joke rather than a self tribute.
Samuel’s mouth quirked in amusement. “Well, let me see if I can get this right.” He fell into an easy stride beside her as they headed toward the second ring of containers. “When the servers opened a few weeks ago, there was a mad dash for exploration. As players poured out of the starting area, we noticed smoke in the sky, saw the signs, the white arrows.”
He slowed, lifting his hand to point toward the opposite direction from where Mav had spawned in. “We started over in an abandoned town not far from here, but that’s not really important.” His eyes warmed as he smiled faintly at the memory. She nodded, glancing in the direction he’d pointed before returning her focus to him.
“We made our way here and found this place already up and running,” he continued. “In the early beta, they only allowed about ten thousand players to get on the server and test its features. One of the tasks was to establish a player settlement near new player spawn points all over the world. Now, ten thousand sounds like a lot, but spread across the entire globe? It’s nothing.” He gestured loosely toward the walls as they walked.
A few players emerged from a bunkhouse, waving. Samuel’s expression softened as he waved back before continuing. “We got lucky. The guys who spawned in here were from a small but elite guild called The Storm of Flames, SOF for short. These guys were veterans. They took the task seriously and built the whole place. Most settlements are decent enough, but not like here. These six really put their heads together.” There was pride in his voice, a faint light in his eyes as he looked around.
Mav glanced up at the walls and the neatly placed containers, her brows arching slightly. She could see why he respected it.
“So,” he went on, “they greeted us, gave us a tour, showed off stocked storage, introduced us to the NPCs. At the end, one of them, Rásar, I think said the place was still unnamed. That kicked off an argument between the six that had obviously been going on a while.”
Samuel chuckled at the memory, then frowned slightly. “One of them, damn, I wish I was better with names asked one of our guys, ‘Hey, what’s your real name?’ That’s not something we usually ask, you know, keeps the mystery alive in here. But my buddy didn’t hesitate. He told them ‘Tom.’”
Mav’s brows lifted, lips parting slightly.
“Before anyone could object, another of the SOF guys, TheBear, yeah, that’s it, how could I forget that? Well, he just typed it in and said, ‘It’s done, now let’s go look around for fuck’s sake.’” Samuel’s grin broadened. “And Tomsville was born. Make sense now?”
“Sort of.” Mav’s head tilted, a faint crease between her brows. “So basically they chose his name just to end an argument?” There was a subtle edge in her tone, the story didn’t quite match the image she’d formed of these supposedly elite players.
Samuel just laughed. “Yep. Then they left us, said they were seeking bigger adventures. I gotta say, though, it was an honor to meet them.” His voice carried sincere respect.
‘Sure it was,’ Mav thought, forcing a small, noncommittal smile. ‘Maybe he knows something I don’t. It’s not your world, Mav, remember that.’ She smoothed her expression, letting the skepticism fade.
“Let’s stop at the shop first,” Samuel said, pointing to the building ahead. “Then we’ll swing back by medical, and take a turn past the weaponsmith. Those three NPCs should each have a few quests for you.”
“Sounds great, Samuel. I really appreciate it.” She met his gaze with a genuine smile.
“Nothing to it, Mav.” His green eyes crinkled at the corners as he patted her shoulder. “You remind me of my daughter, she’s about your age, full of piss and vinegar too.” He chuckled warmly, then gestured her inside the shop.
Walking into the first building, Mav’s gaze automatically swept the space, a deliberate, cataloging sweep. The structure was a double-wide container, two units welded together back to back, the seam disguised beneath layers of paint. The air inside held a blend of sun-baked steel, faint dust, and something sweetly preserved, fruit, maybe mixing with the metallic tang of the walls.
A short counter stood just past the door, a practical barrier that forced all visitors to pause. Along the longer wall, a side window opened outward, convenient for quick transactions without letting strangers too far inside. Behind the counter stood a pleasant-looking older woman, gray hair drawn back in a practical ponytail. She wore loose pants and a man’s button down shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, giving her the air of someone who valued utility above style.
What caught Mav’s attention wasn’t just Mary’s welcoming smile, it was the sharpness in her eyes. They swept over Samuel and then Mav with the quick efficiency of someone used to measuring customers before deciding how to deal with them. ‘This one weighs people before weighing their wallets,’ Mav thought.
“Welcome back, Samuel,” Mary greeted with practiced warmth. “You haven’t graced my shop in a dog’s age.” She wagged a finger at him, half in jest, half in quiet reprimand. Samuel responded with an almost boyish shrug, the corners of his mouth lifting in a sheepish grin.
“Mav, welcome to Mary’s Emporium,” he said with a little flourish of his hand. “And this is Mary, of course, the owner and operator of this fine establishment.” Then, turning to Mary with mock gravity, he placed a hand over his heart and bowed. “Finally, I must apologize, my love, for neglecting you so shamefully. Can you ever forgive me?”
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Mary gave a small “o” of pretend shock before breaking into a bell like laugh. “Oh, behave, you silly man.” She shooed him away with fluttering fingers. “Don’t make me blush in front of the young one. You’re forgiven… but don’t let it happen again.”
When Mary’s gaze landed fully on Mav, her smile softened, but those assessing eyes didn’t dull. “Hello, Miss Mavitsune, and welcome to my shop. I sell all the basic things you’ll need to survive in this broken world, except weapons, ammunition, and medical supplies. For those, you’ll need to see my neighbors.” She gestured deeper into the shop. “Crafting supplies, food, basic gear, clothing, skill books, if it keeps you alive, I probably have it.”
“Mav, please, Miss Mary,” Mav said, keeping her tone friendly while storing away the impression that Mary was a trader who saw more than she let on. “Do you buy as well as sell?”
Mary laughed, her eyes flicking briefly to Samuel. “Would you look at that? She’s barely through the door and already bargaining with me.” Beneath the playfulness, Mav caught a small flicker, Mary liked buyers who came ready to deal. “Yes, dear, I’ll buy your loot, at least, things I can sell. Do you need an explanation of how buying and selling works?”
Mav nodded, noting that Mary’s hands stayed lightly on the counter, never fidgeting, never restless. Control and calm radiated from her stance. ‘These NPCs are so real, they must be at least AVA level in their programing.’ She thought as Mary paused to answer.
“It’s simple,” Mary said. “First, open your inventory. Being in the shop, you’ll see extra menu options at the top.” Mav brought up her HUD. Her inventory unfolded in neat grids. Clothing. Storage. Weapons. Crafting/Trash. At the bottom: Sell, Trade, Sell All Crafting/Trash.
“Those?” she asked.
“Yes, exactly,” Mary said. “Focus on an item to highlight it, select sell, it appears on the counter. Pick everything you want to part with, close your HUD, and we’ll haggle.”
“Haggle?” Mav’s brows lifted.
“There’s a set price, eventually,” Samuel interjected with a smirk. “But until you reach Trade level three, you won’t see that number. She wouldn’t have told you that until you achieved the Trade skill and lovingly fleeced you for a while.”
Mary stuck her tongue out at him, clearly annoyed he’d cut her pitch short. “I wouldn’t have told her until she got there herself.” Samuel stuck his tongue back at her, boyishly unbothered. The exchange struck Mav as oddly human, banter layered over the edges of survival.
Mary recovered quickly. “Trade lets you barter item for item. Sell All dumps everything in your crafting/trash slot for market value, no fuss, no back and forth. Good if you’re not a crafter.”
“Got it.” Mav selected Sell All.
Do you wish to sell Crafting/Trash items for 2 white card(s)?
“Yes,” she said, watching her currency tick upward.
“I guess some things don’t hold the same value they did before,” Mav mused.
Mary’s smile thinned just slightly, though her tone stayed warm. “Value changes. In bigger settlements, someone might pay more for certain goods. Out here?” She swept the rings and watch into a box with a quick, efficient motion and slid it out of sight. ‘Fast hands,’ Mav noted. ‘She’s done that a thousand times.’
“Mary, do you have any special requests Mav can fulfill?” Samuel asked, tilting his chin toward Mav.
Mary’s smile brightened. too quickly to be entirely spontaneous. “As a matter of fact, yes.” She leaned forward slightly. “Miss Mavitsune, would you like to help me restock my store?”
A quest prompt unfurled in Mav’s HUD:
Quest: Restock My Shop
Mary, proprietor of Mary’s Emporium, needs help locating hard-to-find goods.
Objective:
- Empty Plastic Bottles with Lids – 10
- White Paper – 1 ream
- Writing Tools – 10 (any type)
Accept? [Yes][No]
“Yes,” Mav said, filing away the speed of Mary’s offer, quick to engage, quicker to secure commitment. “I’ll do my best to find these for you.” Then, glancing to Samuel: “Anything else you think I need here before we move on?”
Starting to speak, Samuel caught himself mid-breath, lips twitching as though he’d changed course mid-sentence. “Not that I can think of,” he said instead, tone light but a little clipped. Then, turning to Mary with an affectionate half smile, “Thanks, love. I’ll be in soon, I promise.”
He gave a casual wave, and Mav followed suit, the gesture automatic but paired with a faint nod of acknowledgment, part politeness, part instinct to mirror those around her.
“You see you go, mister!” Mary called after him, her silver bell laugh chasing them through the door. Outside, the air felt different, cooler in the narrow shade between containers, with faint scents of woodsmoke and grilled meat riding the breeze. The sound of hammering from somewhere in the encampment carried between bursts of conversation.
They started toward the weaponsmith’s shop, their steps falling into easy rhythm until Samuel slowed, then stopped, planting his hands on his hips. “My pause in there,” he said, a wry smirk pulling one corner of his mouth, “was because I was going to suggest you get a larger bag. With these ‘fetch’ quests, you’ll want more carrying capacity than what you’ve got in that shoulder bag.” His gaze flicked deliberately toward the black leather resting against her hip, the way someone might assess a tool before deciding it’s too small for the job.
“I just didn’t want Mary to hear me, she’s a master at sales. She’d have you paying for a pack you could find out there.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the world beyond the gates.
“This encampment’s well placed,” he went on, gesturing in slow arcs as he spoke. “Industrial area to the south…” Mav’s small nod made him pause. “Ah, you’re familiar with it. Okay then, the industrial area you spawned in. East of us, near the shore? Mid-sized town. And north, northwest, military base. Boot camp, according to the sign.” His hands cut the air like a cartographer marking a map only he could see.
“Backpacks tend to spawn around those starting zones, so they’re easy to come by. Most players find one on the way here… unless they drive a bus and skip all the looting fun.” His grin was quick, teasing without bite. “I gotta say though, that was a good move. Well played.”
She smiled back at the lack of malice in his voice. “Though, I have to ask,” he continued, “how did you get such a huge train on your ass?”
With a small huff of laughter, Mav lifted a hand in a helpless gesture. “I sneezed.” Samuel’s brows shot up, silently urging her to elaborate. “There was someone else down there making a lot of noise, drawing a pack down the road toward the sound. I climbed on top of the bus to let them pass… stirred up dust on the roof… and before I could stop myself, huge sneeze. Right while the pack was passing. They all turned on me.” Her mouth tightened in frustration at the memory.
“Oh, shit! That had to suck,” Samuel said, wincing in sympathy. “No wonder you took the bus. That’s a few too many to solo.” He chuckled, voice dropping conspiratorially. “I was in a group sweeping that base I mentioned. Horde passed by, and one guy… let’s say he had some GI distress. Loud session of breaking wind, and the fight was on. It was a mess. A very stinky mess.”
Mav wrinkled her nose. “I guess my sneeze wasn’t so bad then.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Thanks for the tip about the backpack, I’ll keep my eyes peeled once I get out there.” She tipped her chin toward the next shop. “On to the next stop?”
Samuel nodded, and they fell back into step. Two shops later, Mav carried several new quests, a slightly lighter bag, and a few more plastic cards in her wallet. At the provisions building, she refilled her water bottle, swapped soup cans for two MREs, and donated the handful of .22 shells she’d found.
While they lingered in the shade of the shelves, Samuel leaned in, lowering his voice. “So… where’d you get the great gear?” His eyes flicked to her armor, then back up, reading her reaction. “This isn’t starter kit. Most folks come in wearing a tee and jeans, carrying a tiny bag and a crappy gun.” Mav kept her expression neutral while her mind weighed options. No one had told her she couldn’t talk, but her gut said be selective. ‘Samuel seems solid… but I’ll decide later.’ Before she could answer, he straightened. “Look, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No,” she said quickly, resting a hand on his shoulder to keep him from stepping back. “It’s not that. I’m part of an experimental treatment, and I’m gagged by a pile of NDAs.” She rolled her eyes theatrically. “What I can say is the gear’s part of the deal, meant to give me a leg up, since I’m not exactly a seasoned gamer.”
Samuel’s brows rose, interest sharpening his gaze. “So, you are a noob?” His eyes twinkled, just enough to soften the jab. “Reason I ask,” he continued, “is that everyone noticed your matching, mid-quality gear, nice gun, sweet knife. That’s rare for new players. And some folks here…” His tone lost its humor. “…are less scrupulous than others. Gear like yours? Coveted.”
He glanced toward the door, voice low again. “When you get a bigger bag, stash the armor before you come back inside. Swap out the matching pants and shirt for something else. Just a suggestion. I may be overly cautious.”
“Really?” she asked, frowning. “People would steal it? Isn’t there plenty to loot? Or some crime and punishment system?”
Samuel’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Sadly, no. The game’s set in a post-apocalyptic world. In the big settlements, sure, rules are forming. But out here? You’re your own law. Friends help, but mostly… you’re on your own. Once you’re stronger, less of a worry. For now, though? Be careful.”
Mav smiled faintly, accepting the advice without argument. She moved toward the door, her hand brushing the cool metal handle. “I’m feeling hungry. Shall we get something to eat? Then I’ll sort my quest log, figure out how to fill these orders.”
“Sure,” Samuel said, locking the door behind them. “Central fire’s the best bet. We’ll grab food, then I can help you map out a strategy before I log off. I’ve got a few appointments this afternoon I can’t miss.”
They stepped out into the open again, the faint crackle of the central bonfire audible even from here.