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[TCM]

The Donchaka rack up a total of $3.87 in loose change while the janitors have been subdued and tied up, locked in the supply car.

"Everybody, you have to understand that what you've seen in Seattle and everything around it, that isn't what the whole world is like." Soon after he says this, the train enters into a tunnel which enshrouds it in darkness.

[Shadestyle]

"We are ready for anything and everything."

[kj1225]

"What, is the outside area some kind of dystopian land of broken people and buildings all fighting for survival in a world that is almost hostile to them?"

[Adragis]

Sandra cuddles the stuffed dog.

[TCM]

The stuffed dog feels warm and friendly. Perhaps it will be a surrogate for hug God?

The train exits the tunnel and looking back the Party can spot what they had just traveled under, a massive steel wall that towers at least twenty feet high and stretches far into the distance, encasing Seattle and its external region in a metal fortress a la Attack on Titan or Game of Thrones. Once the final car of the train leaves the tunnel, the tunnel entranced is sealed behind a forcefield. Flanking the train on both sides are Peacekeepers, the amount of them stacked together in this one area outnumbers the total amount of law enforcement officers that they seen during their entire stay in Seattle. The landscape is no longer either swarms of high-tech developments or fields of lush amber crops, but either cracked concrete or sooty, black soil; the sky is concealed behind a blanket of smog. The train whizzes by two types of settings, the only two types that appear to exsist outside of the metal walls: either pollution-spewing, dirty industrial hive cities with crumbling infrastructure or squalorous slums that seem to collapse on themselves yet are continuing to expand regardless. Because of how overcrowded each of these locations are, the bullet train cruises through them in less than a minute, the pace so fast that looking outside you can hardly tell if you are in one location or the next, only if you catch the name of a sign or billboard outside that states which district you are passing through, for example, one of these hideous industrial centers is named Portland, Oregon.

"What you saw in Seattle, that's not really how it is in most places here. Most cities don't get the type of funding that football cities get. This whole strip, between Seattle and California, this is where I grew up y'all. This, is the Favela."

Act 2 - La Favela
West Coast Favela, U.S.A.

[Adragis]

Sandra looks notably shocked.

[Shadestyle]

The Donchaka look on with a critical eye, this may not be familiar territory, but it is the closest they have come to it so far.

A wilderness, an ocean without port, only danger lies ahead, their instincts tell them.

[kj1225]

Kyle looks around and raises his arms in a 'called it' gesture.

[Sanure]

((TCM, you have a broken link))

[TCM]

((TCM, you have a broken link))

((That should be better.))

[Sanure]

((TCM, you have a broken link))

((That should be better.))

((EDIT: It's missing some numbers at the end :/))

[TCM]

((Should be good now.))

[Sanure]

((Yis~))

[TCM]

Among the crowded, stacked and tiny shacks that make up the Favela are a variety of colors unlike the hegemony of paints that dominated Seattle; if there was one communal element the Favela had over Seattle, it was a much more varied, if rustic, palette, a rainbow mixture of colors brushing over these houses. Some of them appear to be two or three stories tall, but on closer observation it is simply just multiple shacks stacked together. The housing structures that stand out the most are brightly red-and-gold colored buildings that are comparatively large and well-maintained compared to the homes around them, either appearing in isolation or in clusters. In and around these houses are crowds of people adorned in clothing typical of the Old American West, wearing rough hardy clothing and carrying around tools such as pick-axes and shovels. Whenever the train passes by one of their congregation centers, the peculiar miner-looking crowd stares at the train with a collective glare, as if the presence of the this high-end technology was a direct insult to them. Before anyone asks whether a themed Favela-wide party was going on at the moment, Aesford addresses these old-school folk, "They're San Francisco 49ers fans, a team that's inspired by the mining Gold rush that happened way back in 1849, and as you can see they stay faithful to their origins. Out here the NFL doesn't have power but it still has a huge influence, which is why outside of football-city limits the fans start to act less like your typical fans and more like gangs. You don't want to be caught alone flying the colors of other teams, especially not the Seahawks."

The train, steadily speeding along, begins to make a gradual halt, each of its cars rocking violently. "That ain't normal." Once the train comes to a complete stop, a bell and an announcement come over the intercom system, "Attention all passengers, we have been stopped due to damage to the track." From the other compartments of the train rises a loud groan of hundreds of riders annoyed by this delay. Aesford appears to be more worried than annoyed. "The NFL National Railway System will fix this problem as quickly as possibly. Thank you for your cooperat-" The announcement is replaced by the buzz of static and the lighting system of the train goes dead. Outside, a massive swarm of 49ers, carrying an assortment of gold-digging tools, begins to converge around the train. "Do you think they're coming to catch a free ride?" That's the moment when the swarm begins pummeling the windows of the train, including the one that the Party was in, smashing the glass apart under repeated blows. Aesford draws The 12th Man, filling the cabin with a sonic screech, all the while trying to move the squishier members of his team away from the windows.

FREEFORM BATTLE: HELL THE IN THE FAVELA

[Chevaleresse]

Volx grants the Donchaka the Swiftness of the Wind.

[What a strange world, and much less wondrous than it first appears. . .]