Zone A -- Lowlands

[Sterling Archer]

As I crested the foothill, I spied the source of the commotion. Squinting through the early morning sun,  I caught sight of a small group of clashing combatants along the horizon. It was difficult to parse exactly who was involved in the squabble, though the sounds of their various cries echoed across the open plain. Noting that they seemed to be far more interested in each other than anything or anyone else in their vicinity, I made my approach, pistol at the ready. They were making no effort to conceal their location, and if they were warring over an important item, it would be the perfect time to swoop in and procure it.

“No lightning strike or Latin chanting,” I muttered, shielding my eyes from the sunlight. “Maybe they’re just killing each other for the fun of it.” While surely not the fastest way, it certainly would increase the odds of winning.

I holstered my pistol as I approached, passing within fifty yards of the group. A quick sweep of the area confirmed that there was indeed no item worth pilfering. I held a hand up to wave at the foursome as I walked casually by, tearing open an energy bar from among my rations with my teeth. After nearly a full day of eating precisely nothing, the bland green block of suspiciously soylent-esque sustenance would have to do.

“This one’s for...whichever of you is brutally beaten to death,” I vowed, spitting out the corner of the foil film and taking a bite of the ‘Syntech Super Ultra Fun Battle Bar X’. “I’ll remember you well. Like, the general concept of you, anyway.”

Having made my eulogy, I pressed on to the south. I consumed the rest of the questionable confection quickly, fighting my gag reflex to get the last few morsels down. I hoped what flavorings they had  eschewed were replaced with nutrition. Or amphetamines. Either or, really.

A9 -> A10