Markiplier x Reader | The Promised Land

Chapter 1: A Long Walk

You found yourself frozen in place on Route 5 as you stared into the huge city in front of you. You had hoped for more... expecting it to be a place of safety, a place that was rebuilt and happy, just like the rumors had said... but all you found was a half burned, destroyed city that looked nearly identical to every other city you had been.

You made a personal note not to believe in rumors so easily in the future, but you honestly had no choice but to come here. If it was in the last moments of desperation to get away from your old home town, you probably would've never come here.

You no longer considered your old home a home anymore, not after a skirmish that sprung up nearly six years ago in your neighborhood. In which it was the cause of the death of everyone in your family minus you and your older sibling. You both went your own way a few months ago after living together for several years. You both severed your emotional connections with each other after the loss of your family, and said maybe you would run into each other again someday and parted without a second thought. The likelihood was small, but you didn't mind. You had another agenda in mind and more important things to think about than family bonds. You needed to survive this post-apocalyptic wasteland and find a place of safety... and it was said to lay in the heart of this very city. You hoped that much was true anyways. What other choice did you have?

You took a deep breath, and took the first step into the once great city in front of you, Los Angeles. As you gazed around silently, your companion and best friend, [P/n] padded up beside you. You leaned over to stroke her back, and she looked up at you, eyes gleaming. You cracked a small smile in return and then took in the skyscrapers in the distance.

The war has really done a number on this place, you thought blankly. It looks as if this all just happened yesterday.

The war... now that was something you did not want to think about. It had only "officially" ended five years ago when announced that a truce was called over the radio, but the bombings that had occurred all over the world was not something to be forgotten so soon. All the major cities had to be evacuated all over the world. Everyone had to watch as their homes, their lives, everything, were destroyed in the Bombings of 2036. You were merely eleven years old at the time... or were you eight? You didn't remember exactly, but you did remember the destruction very well, and how you had fled your home into the wilderness with your family... You were mildly curious how you had managed to survive, but another thought quickly took over that you were just practical and more logical than the rest who didn't make it. You shook the thoughts away as they attempted to invade your mind and make you upset again.

You sat down on some rubble, and took off your grey, tattered backpack. You checked to make sure all your belongings were there. Your [f/c] journal was there, good. Your metal bat was sticking out of the back, painted with [f/c] markings. Some canned foods, some dried meats for your pet, a spare [2f/c] jacket, and an extra pair of combat boots in case your current ones are worn out completely, along with a single blanket. After digging for a moment, you sighed in relief when you spotted your water flask in the back, with a small pocket watch attached to it. You took a quick drink from the flask.

Feeling refreshed, you decided to follow the old signs on the broken up road. You decided to head to the closest neighborhood to see if you couldn't receive any directions.

When you first heard of LA and it's "paradise" you half expected it to be handed to you, but weren't surprised to find it would take a little digging. At least you weren't expecting someone to be waiting at the entrance to LA with a greeting card. You sighed quietly as you walked down the eerily quiet freeway, walking around old battered cars all jamming up the way. You tried to avoid looking inside any of them. You didn't want to see something you might regret seeing.

As you walked, you came across a neighborhood sign that looked like it used to be called "Castaic Village" but you were unsure of what it was called now. Perhaps it was still the same and abandoned entirely?

It was about a mile walk, and considering all you have been doing is walking for the past month to arrive here in LA, you were excited to be getting close to a resting spot, and perhaps even having a decent bed to rest in.

Within several hours the neighborhood came into view. It seemed abandoned by the looks of it, but you proceeded with caution. It was probably better this way to be abandoned. This way you could break in (or if you were lucky, the doors were already left unlocked) and no one would judge you or even know you're there.

You approached the first few houses and looked in awe at their sheer size. They were practically mansions. Despite being old, broken down, and in ruins, you could only imagine their worth and true elegance before the bombings. The many outdoor pools the houses had were at the halfway point with water, but you knew better than to take a swim. No doubt the water still contained radiation and you didn't want to risk burns or even radiation poisoning.

As you continued to walk further down the main road, you spotted people standing outside on one of the lawns, talking with one another. One of them spotted you and pointed you out to the rest of the group and you froze. You watched their movements closely, trying to see whether or not they were friendly.

Your pet stood in front of you defensively, her body arched slightly and fur standing on end. You tried to ease her, but you were frozen in place. The people approached cautiously themselves, and one of them, a thin man with dark hair, pale skin, and bright blue eyes spoke out. He had a thick accent. "Hello there!" he said. You realized his accent was... Irish?

You forced a smile as you stood in place, looking very awkward and tense. The man smiled, "No need to be shy! What's your name?"

You thought for a moment, trying to figure out why he was being so nice. You merely spoke once, short and quick, "You can call me Spice." You weren't about to use your actual name... not yet, so you stuck with your alias. You had to see if you could trust them.