Ever since that first explosion, I've grown to hate the rain. The grey clouds are somewhat of a comfort, along with the stars. But not the rain. Never the rain.
Getting in contact with rain ages you. Nobody knows how, it just does. That's how it's been for years now.
America is in shambles. People are turning on one another. Fewer children are being born. The population in scattered cities has been dropping. That's why I left. My parents are long gone.
Everything and everyone I know is long gone.
Even my name. But that doesn't matter now. I just needed to get away, and that's what I did. If you keep a low profile, you would be invisible. Those blasted handcuffs are nothing but GPS trackers, meant to keep an eye on you. They would always watch you, especially now with the government gone.
But living outside city limits has its perks. You're free, you can do whatever you want. Nobody cares about me, and I'm okay with that.
The rain—or timefall, as those Porter people call it—is always a hazard. I constantly have to find shelter in caves or old cars left to rot in the vegetation.
But today was different. I saw one of those BTs (Beached Things) rip one of those Porter people apart. It was disgusting, all that blood and oil everywhere. After the BT vanished and the rain stopped, I looted what was left of the body, finding a briefcase containing a black and yellow hood and cape. But something else in the blood-soaked grass caught my attention.
A small container that somewhat resembles a fish tank lays unharmed in the grass. I pick it up, staring at my reflection in the black glass. I've heard of these things. What did those people call them? BT detectors? BBs? I'm just wondering how this one didn't break.
I tap on the glass, causing the container to flare up in a red light. A small baby stares at me from inside the container. "Hey there," I murmur, smiling.
It—she—I realize it's a girl by the eye shape—blinks, holding her hand up against the glass.
I place my thumb over her hand, realizing how small she is. Thunder rumbles overhead, signaling that it'll rain again soon. I quickly rush over to a small cave, cradling her. With a sigh, I sit down, knowing that we are safe.
"My name is Higgs." I whisper, leaning against the rock wall. "Do you have a name?" I ask, not expecting her to respond. She looks up at me.
"How about I name you?" She smiles.
"Yeah?" I laugh. "I'll call you...Nava. That's a pretty name."
Nava seems to agree, giggling before falling asleep.
"Oh, babygirl," I hold the container close, feeling tears flow down my cheeks. Looks like I'm not alone anymore.
YOU ARE READING
Death Stranding: Higgs
Fanfiction(Note: I began publishing this prior to Death Stranding's release in November. I apologize if any character's behaviors or actions do not line up with how they are in game.) "We can always... tweak the rules a bit." Higgs has always been an outcast...
