₴₮Ɽ₳₦₲ɆⱤ ₮Ⱨ₳₦ ₣ł₵₮łØ₦ | 1 | The Outsiders
Welcome to ₴₮Ɽ₳₦₲ɆⱤVłⱠⱠɆ, where the only thing stranger than the people is the flora! The town had a different name once, but no one who lives here now can remember what it was, even those who were alive before the odd occurrences that have come to define it began.
Decades back, two landmark events occurred simultaneously: a military base and scientific lab were established, promising to bring work and prosperity to the struggling blue-collar population, and dozens of alien immigrants arrived, claiming they had just fled a war-torn planet and came in peace to seek resettlement.
The townspeople were immediately wary of the aliens and accused them of harboring all sorts of dangerous powers - telekinesis, mind-reading, mood control, command over the elements - despite no evidence. Although ostracized by many, they were embraced by others and soon started families, producing hybrid offspring. Meanwhile, the military kept stumbling into one controversy after another, plagued by low enrollment numbers, botched experiments, leaked documents, and corrupt leaders.
When bizarre glowing plants started cropping up everywhere, no one could pinpoint exactly who was to blame. The aliens deny responsibility, and the military claims the plants are harmless. But their existence has bred a rapidly growing number of conspiracy theories on all sides. So far, the plants have remained dormant. But there's something disturbingly alive about them, as though they're patiently biding their time until their true purpose is revealed...
Like the town she's found herself in, ⱤØ₴ ₮ⱧØⱤ₦₮Ø₦ once had a different name. She was born Rosalyn, but she'll kill anyone who calls her that now. The name only reminds her of her parents, and she'd rather forget the abuse she suffered at their hands. When her father beat her up for sneaking a girl into her bedroom, she packed her bags and left without looking back. She was drawn to Strangerville by the military propaganda machine and its promises to nurture her fledgling talent for self-preservation and turn it into real power. She thought maybe she had finally found a family who understood her, who, just like her, hid soft hearts behind their tough-as-nails exteriors.
But she soon found herself tangled in a web of lies. After stumbling upon a top secret document detailing a troubling experimental study, there was no way she could carry on as usual with the knowledge she now possessed. She threatened to go public. Her higher-ups offered a compromise: she could either accept the small sum of hush money they offered and disappear forever or see them in a heavily biased court, where she was sure to lose.
She hated herself for it, but she took the money and ran. And kept running. There were so many conflicting thoughts swirling through her head that she barely noticed the desert landscape around her growing increasingly harsher and more remote. But, eventually, her body begged to be refueled. She needed a place to rest while she took stock of her options.
She took her first uncertain steps back into civilization, discovering a shoddy, grime-infested trailer park that appeared to be in a permanent state of disrepair. When she knocked on the door marked "landlord," no one answered, and if any of the other trailers were occupied, their inhabitants wanted nothing to do with her.
There was one trailer that looked to be in slightly better condition than the others. On the inside, it was nearly gutted of furniture and appliances, but it was relatively clean and harbored no disgruntled squatters. With a little bit of effort, it could be turned into a suitable temporary home.
In that empty trailer, with only an inflatable mattress rescued from a rubbish pile and boxes of scavenged necessities to keep her company, Ros was tormented nightly by memories of what she had read. Every morning, she jerked awake certain that she would be tracked down and thrown into prison for knowing too much.
She collected an array of abandoned gym equipment (so many of the town's businesses had been shuttered, their inventories left to either gather dust or be looted) and trained for hours a day. If they ever did come, she would be ready.
This time, she would refuse to go down without a fight. She had spent so much of her life running, and she was tired of it.
But her new life was a lonely one. At first, she didn't mind the solitude. She was finally alone with her rage, instead of hurting other people the way her parents had. Now, though, she could feel it burning her up inside, threatening to incinerate her tender parts for good. She longed for companionship but feared what might happen if she sought it out.
JɄ₦ł₱ɆⱤ ₲Ɽ₳VɆ₴ knows what it's like to have a past you want to escape. When she started transitioning, she realized there was nothing in her old life she would miss. Her family weren't exactly unsupportive, but they weren't enthusiastic either, and her nine-to-five gig as a commercial programmer was mind-numbing. So she left it all behind and set out for the opposite coast. But she ran out of money and ended up stranded in Strangerville, which on first glance was the textbook definition of a one-horse town.
The sense that the town was full of rural white folks clinging to the glory of a past decade had already unsettled her, but the puzzlingly large military presence was even more concerning. Historically, neither population had ever been particularly accommodating to people like her. She already felt like she wasn't wanted here.
When she tentatively entered the local bar, 8 Bells, which was swarming with military personnel, she felt every eye in the place swivel in her direction. Still, she shook off the paranoid certainty that their stares were the product of something more sinister than curiosity and approached the counter for a drink. The bartender paused to look her up and down. "You ain't from around here, are you?" she asked, eyebrow knowingly raised.
Undeterred, Juniper scanned the notice board for a cheap place to stay. Buried beneath the missing pet flyers and meeting times for conspiracy theorist gatherings, both of which were numerous, she found a handwritten request for a roommate on a torn and stained piece of notebook paper. It was terse and impersonal, seemingly written by someone who wasn't really sure they wanted a roommate at all.
The address on the listing led her to a destitute trailer park. More hopeful than certain it was the right place, she took a deep breath and knocked on the door of the only trailer that looked even remotely inhabitable.
At first, the sight of the woman who lived there discouraged her. She was standoffish and distrustful, and her physical appearance - shaved head, stocky frame, camouflage attire - screamed military. But there was pain behind her eyes that Juniper recognized and related to. After a drawn-out, nearly one-sided conversation, the woman grew comfortable enough to introduce herself. Her name was Ros, and Juniper could stay as long as she needed to, no questions asked.
The next morning, Ros awoke to find a funny little gnome perched in front of the porch. "What the hell is that?" she shouted, loud enough for Juniper to hear from inside. The night before, she'd barely spoken above a raspy mumble.
Juniper beamed proudly. "I found him while rummaging through one of the other trailers. Isn't he adorable?"
"I'm not sure adorable is the word I'd use," Ros replied.
With that, she silently stomped back inside the trailer, but Juniper was certain she saw a smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she passed. In that moment, even though they were still near-strangers, she knew she would eventually fall in love with Ros, if she hadn't already.
Within a week or two, the trailer filled up with Juniper's things, a mishmash of thrift shop books, furniture discarded on the roadside, and trashed electronics brought miraculously back to life. It finally looked lived-in rather than a brief way station of a life perpetually in motion.
She put her programming genius to use in slightly morally dubious ways, hacking the bank accounts of billionaires and hopelessly corrupt organizations to fill up their coffers whenever Ros started to worry about their financial security.
After living together for nearly a year, Juniper's feelings for Ros have only grown stronger, but she's not yet capable of voicing them aloud. She's pretty sure Ros is a lesbian, and she knows the trans thing doesn't bother her, but she's convinced Ros could only ever view her as a little sister, one who she's constantly ribbing about being too scrawny, eating like shit, and spending her entire life slouched in front of a screen. Besides, the slow and tentative progress they've made toward friendship is too important. She can't bear the thought of ruining it with her unreciprocated romantic desires.
But the world outside their trailer has grown even stranger lately. More of those bizarre flowers are cropping up. What first began as an influx of missing pets has become an influx of missing people. Others have fallen victim to a mystery illness that manifests in violent body spasms and outbursts of nonsense and has no known cause or cure. The military grows more and more secretive by the day, saying only that the outbreak is being "investigated," that efforts are being made to "quarantine the infected," and that all citizens should "exercise caution" when going out. Ros is convinced their vagueness is a cover-up for one of their own misjudged experiments, and she's not the only one. Juniper's been keeping an eye on an increasingly active Internet community who posit the same theory, among other outlandish claims.
They rarely leave the trailer park now, but one night they can't stand being cooped up a second longer and cautiously venture out to 8 Bells. While nursing their beers at the counter, they notice a woman being pushed around by a rowdy group of military men. They immediately know why: her pale green skin betrays her alien ancestry, and the unofficial consensus around town is that the illness is extraterrestrial in origin. By now, most of the aliens have either left of their own accord or been driven out. She's an easy target.
A high-ranking officer walks in, barely taking notice of the violent scene unfolding before him.
"Excuse me," Ros screams at him over the music, "but what the fuck are your men doing to that girl?"
"I know who you are," he replies swiftly. "We all do. I'd leave it alone if I were you. Haven't you already meddled enough?"
At the suggestion that she turn a blind eye, Ros springs into action, raining a barrage of fists down on the men before they even know what hits them. In their drunken stupor, they offer little resistance.
She makes mincemeat of them in no time, and they stumble out of the bar, heads hung in defeat. The officer shoots a threatening glare in her direction before following his men.
Juniper catches up to the girl outside and introduces herself. She offers a reassuring hug, and the girl's arms around her shoulders are so heavy with relief, the offer is out of her mouth before she has time to think it through. "Do you need a place to stay?"
"There's your beer-swilling knight in shining armor, Ros. You'd have to put up with her, too, but I promise she's normally much more cuddly, like a teddy bear."
"I am not a teddy bear," Ros mutters between breathless glugs.
The girl smiles cautiously. Her face is flushed a deep shade of red, but it's becoming on her, complementing her fiery red hair. "My name is Daphne," she says in a soft voice, "and I'd love a place to stay."
Despite living in Strangerville her entire life, Đ₳₱Ⱨ₦Ɇ ₵₳ⱠⱠł₴₮Ø has always felt like an outsider. Born to an alien father and a human mother, she's been the subject of unpleasant rumors as long as she can remember. But what most people don't know is that her mother was one of the earliest victims of the infection. One night, she ran off mid-fit into the desert, never to be seen again. Her father left town shortly after. With his wife forever lost, he couldn't bear to see his people torn apart once and for all by the townspeople's ignorance and fear. He begged Daphne to come with him, but she refused. Somehow, she needs to uncover the truth behind what happened. The problem is she has no idea where to start.
Daphne has always found comfort in connecting with nature. No matter what, she can always make herself feel better by burying her hands in the cool earth and planting seeds there, tiny vessels of future hope at even the bleakest moments.
Soon enough, she's added her own personal touches to the trailer. Ros and Juniper aren't much for housework, but Daphne is a neat freak and has done as much as she can to turn its modest interior homey and inviting.
At first, Ros is repelled by the girly touches Daphne leaves in every corner. "Does everything she owns have to be a shade of pink?" she rants one night, but Juniper just laughs it off. She knows Ros will come around eventually.
Sure enough, they soon settle into a family of sorts, one that looks mismatched on the surface but shares a deep mutual understanding. Despite their differing experiences, they're connected by their painful pasts and their quest to crack the unanswerable riddles contained within the sleepy town they grudgingly call home.
They're not sure what their next steps will be. For now, all of them, even Ros, spend hours a day posting in online forums and chatrooms. Beyond the crackpots, there is a dedicated base of intelligent people all around the world intent on uncovering Strangerville's mystery. They theorize based on vague news reports, unconfirmed sightings, and stories ripped from folklore and legend but always hit a dead end.
Whatever this thing is, it's clear it's not going away any time soon. Something needs to be done, but what, and who will be brave (or stupid) enough to carry it out? Could the answer somehow be buried in the nonsense spewed by the zombie-like citizens wandering mindlessly about town?
