Chapter Text
Once upon a big boat stuck, Megalo Don and his Wasteland Warriors hit the Island with a "Sandstorm" jam session hard enough to actually cause a fucking sandstorm, causing nothing short of ecological collapse in the southern part of the map that once again forced loopers to congregate in certain parts of the map while leaving the rest deserted, with the added irony that the desert area would be the least deserted!
This sad fact was certainly not lost on Montague, who had reached Orchard Station to replace the last of the train station maps only to discover that the train was caught in a veritable mountain of sand.
Dismayed, Montague dialed his policy representative and was treated to a near everlasting hold period listening to the No Sweat Insurance jingle before he was connected to an agent. "What," Chaos Agent said tersely.
"Sounds like someone's getting a zero on their customer satisfaction survey," Montague said.
Chaos Agent did not respond immediately, and when he did speak, he sounded Very Done with Everything. "Can't be any worse than accepting a dare from an old friend to dive as well as my summer counterpart, Chaos Explorer, off his yacht, only to end up lost at sea until being hooked by a literal leviathan of a ship to invent a new form of fuel for their fleet of murder mayhem vehicles that can only be found on good ol' Fortnite Island," he said.
"Wow," Montague said. "Talk about putting the 'ass' in 'ascendant.'"
"Tell me about it," Chaos Agent said. "By the way, nitro is 60% Slap juice, 20% artisanal Slurp juice, 10% Nuka Cola, 10% Flowberry Fizz. May contain trace amounts of Banana of the Gods. Not made from concentrate."
"Yeah, I'm good with classic Flowberry Fizz," Montague said. "What's the ETA on getting the train fixed?"
"Never," Chaos Agent said bluntly.
"Why?" Montague was not pleased to hear this, as he'd gone through quite a lot of trouble to replace all the train maps, as was his Societal duty. Plus, he was sincerely puzzled since the Society jointly held the policy, and he was under the impression that Nisha was keeping up on payments due to the whole highly-lucrative-beverage-conglomerate thing.
Chaos Agent laughed when he heard this, though with less malice than expected. If anything, Montague thought he caught an undercurrent of fear. "You've been delinquent on train policy payments since March," Chaos Agent said. "The only reason it was running last season was because your grace period on cancellations is a whole season. And even if that wasn't the case, your policy doesn't cover acts of god."
"How is an ecological disaster an act of god?"
"Were you not paying attention?" Chaos Agent said. "Well, don't worry. Neither was I. Lack of story short, Zeus whacked Pandora's Box like a late 90s slugger on steroids straight off the Island and smack into Megalo Don, who then used its powers to cause a climate catastrophe. There, now you're caught up. Claim denied."
"But without a robust public transit system," Montague protested, "people will be forced to use cars! They'll get addicted! Traffic will become a nightmare! Like in the United States!"
"I'm so glad you mentioned that," Chaos Agent said. "You really should stimulate the economy by buying a vehicle and its requisite auto insurance policy! Coverage options start at no protection, but it's the thought that counts. And the vbucks! But mostly the vbucks. So PLEASE BUY CARS."
Montague frowned, wondering whether this was just normal suggestive selling protocol or the early warning signs of bankruptcy. He wondered whether the appearance of a shark-themed ship qualified as jumping the shark, then scolded himself when he could practically hear Midas' voice asking, "First time?"
Fortunately, Midas himself did not appear. However, someone else did, ripping the phone away from Montague's ear and held it up to her face. "Where is that money-laundering masked monopolist you call boss?" Nisha screamed into the receiver.
"Are you referring to Midas or the Underwriter?" Montague asked.
Nisha rolled her eyes at him. Or maybe at the phone, since she hung up and crushed it in her hand a moment later. "Okay, rude," Montague told her. "That was expensive."
"Go suck a banana," Nisha snapped, making Montague wonder if the phrasing was a new and bizarre Gen Z slang or merely the result of a beta profanity filter. "At least you still have a home. Mine was scrapped for parts to build a new and dangerous demolition derby arena, and nobody from No Sweat will take my calls to file a claim."
"I'm so glad you care more about your family's business than the public transit system we all helped create," Montague said. "Oh, and by the way, bananas got unvaulted. Unlike my precious AR variant, which has tragically been vaulted."
"You poor thing," Nisha said. "I'm going to go find a lawyer to vault No Sweat Insurance."
"That's a terrible plan."
"You're only saying that because the only law firm on the Island is Midas & Midas."
"No I'm not," Montague said. Which wasn't technically a lie, because he continued, "It's also because this place doesn't have a great track record on winning legal disputes. Pun intended."
"But lawsuits are how rich people traditionally solve their problems."
"But we're not rich anymore," Montague pointed out. "We're loopers, and you know how loopers resolve disputes? Violence! So let's squad up with some people who are probably as mad at No Sweat as we are about the train: the gods."
Nisha thought this was a terrible idea, but didn't have any better ideas at this point besides waiting for the Underwriter himself to show up for his annual summer vacation. She figuratively tossed Montague the keys to a nearby car (in that she literally marked one nearby with the d-pad), and the two of them set off to petition the pantheon.
However, it was soon clear that most of them had jumped ship. The Underworld was deserted, save Cerberus, who was incredibly resistant to leaving because he had to wait for the return of the queen. The only other god left was Artemis, prowling Mount Olympus with a sour expression. Upon inquiry, Artemis explained the source of her distress.
"I grew to love this island," she lamented. "The joy of the hunt, forever. Then the Wasteland Warriors appeared. Now the hunt is ruined by the constant roar of those motorized chariots. All my stealth training, useless."
Montague and Nisha were quite sympathetic to this, for it had become quite clear over the course of their quest that cars were a Problem. Every looper had a car, and those who didn't were quickly gunned down by the new vehicle augments, or felled by classic ramming maneuvers.
"I agree," Montague said. "Those vehicle upgrades are murder on the paint jobs. There must be something we can do about the Wasteland Warriors. And No Sweat Insurance."
"Why not join the Underground?" Artemis said. "They're already fighting the Wasteland Warriors."
Montague was hesitant, but Nisha dragged him back to the car and started driving towards the desert. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," she told him.
Vengeance Jones was similarly skeptical when she made that point. "Why would you insufferable capitalist aristocrats join up with us?"
"Because the Island has fallen into road rage anarchy under the Wasteland Warriors!" Montague said, having thought about it on the ride over. "Surely now you appreciate the value of critical infrastructure. Like the train."
"Nope," Vengeance Jones said.
But since he didn't call the cars fun or even enjoyable, Montague saw an opening. He put a hand on Vengeance Jones' shoulder. "Have you or a loved one been hurt by a car?" he asked.
Vengeance Jones tried to remain stoic but quickly collapsed into a sniffling mess. "Cars took Peely away from me!" he said. "Now he spends all day in Rocket Racing with the seven other people and four bots who play that mode!"
Montague patted Vengeance Jones' back as the Waterworks continued while having a silent conversation with Nisha about how to handle the situation. Nisha made what Montague thought was a fire motion, so he asked Jones about Hope.
This was probably the wrong thing to ask, since Nisha sank her face into her hands as soon as he said it. The Waterworks stopped immediately. "Hope and I are going through a bit of a rough patch," Vengeance Jones said stiffly. "Creative differences. I'm sure you understand after what happened with Valeria."
Montague nodded in a rare display of sympathy. Nisha scoffed. "He's talking about Hope losing patience with Peely because he repeats the same singular syllable while singing in Festival," she said.
"If anything, that makes me more sympathetic," Montague said. He then quickly changed the subject so Nisha wouldn't have an opportunity to share some of the more embarrassing lyrical mishaps he'd committed during his own Festival stints. "So about stopping those Wasteland Warriors..."
Vengeance Jones' face darkened. "You wanna level up your revenge stat?" he said. "Go talk to Dummy."
Talking to Dummy was excruciating, since he didn't see anything wrong with the Wasteland. "Cars is love," he told them. "Cars is life."
"Cars is a world of strife," Montague said, scowling, "which against the odds, I choose to fight."
Nisha glanced at him curiously. "Anyway," she said, "there was to be some way to counter the cars."
"Sure there is," Dummy said jovially. "Other cars! Look," he continued, when both Nisha and Montague clenched their firsts and glared at him, "ask anyone in this Battle Pass, and they'll tell you the same. I even got my own food-based friend now to replace Peely! His name's Peabody, so take that, Jonesy!"
Neither Nisha nor Montague found this argument persuasive, and yet the gas station was perpetually busy, servicing loopers driving cars of exactly two sorts (sedan and SUV). Nisha sighed. "Maybe we should listen to him," she said. "Let's start with the tier 1, I guess. Whoever that is."
Their first stop was thus Redline Rig to speak with the Machinist, who wasn't very interested in talking. After she told them to fuck off, Montague and Nisha retorted that she was just a worse Jules, and things quickly turned to blows. One mythic combat assault rifle drop later, the two continued on to the next Battle Pass newcomer, Rust.
Rust was much more sympathetic to their plight. "If you guys are tired of Battle Royale being overrun by Rocket Racing," he said, "why not fight back with a different mode?"
He went on to explain the recent arrival of the Metallica quests, and finally Montague and Nisha saw their opening. Armed with the streak-ruining max difficulty measures of the Ride the Lightning mythic, the two descended on the Nitrodrome in a literal storm of electric guitar riffs. Unfortunately, Ride the Lightning was as difficult to play in Battle Royale as it was in Festival, and neither Montague nor Nisha succeeded in hitting anything.
Their attempt did not go unnoticed by Ringmaster Scarr, however. She was quite delighted to find more visitors to her demolition derby. Even if they were a bit confused, they at least had the spirit. "You're supposed to have a car to participate," she told them.
"Fuck cars," Nisha said. "You took everything from me."
"I don't even know who you are," Ringmaster Scarr said.
"We're the organization formerly known as the Society, and we're not here for the derby," Montague said. "We're here for vengeance. And also these music notes, man. I just want to find, uh-" The reflection of the menu screen appeared in his eyes for a moment. "twenty more music notes, which is twenty more than I have, and then probably another thirty or something next week, because this method of releasing quests in stages is awful and this method of collecting poster pieces for a lousy loading screen is even worse."
"But the XP is good, right?" Ringmaster Scarr asked.
"Fuck the XP," Montague said.
He and Nisha then tried to destroy the Nitrodrome, only to find that most of the inner arena section was indestructible. "Yep!" Ringmaster Scarr said proudly. "Cost a fortune in insurance premium, but Nitro has been great for the economy!"
"That's only because you destroyed the public transit system and forced everyone to find their own individual transportation," Montague said.
"That's just business," Ringmaster Scarr said. "If you want the train to be profitable again, have you tried removing all its safety regulations and forcing your customers into a subscription model?"
"Wow, no wonder both the Society and the Underground hate you," Nisha said. "You're literally the worst of both of us: anarchocapitalists."
Ringmaster Scarr did not take kindly to this being used as an insult and attacked, but Nisha and Montague were able to escape by using the Ride the Lightning item again and landed on the south shore of the Island.
Nisha stood up and dusted herself off, which took a while because of all the sand. (It's rough and coarse and gets everywhere, as you might know.) "This season is ass," she declared. "I just want to play Battle Royale again. Build or no build, as long as there are no vehicles."
"Speaking of modes without vehicles," said a nearby feminine voice, "have you heard about the Lego mode?"
It was Brite Raider, here to share news about how an old Snapshot of hers was brainstorming an introductory questline for the Lego mode so it would feel less like an obvious beta. "A place where duos like yourselves," she said, as if delivering the pitch for a self-help book, "can resolve the differences born of your mentor/mentee relationship in a less stressful environment."
Montague and Nisha glanced at each other. "That doesn't really describe our relationship," Montague said, although he wasn't quite sure what would. Colleagues? Frenemies? Maybe just acquaintances. "Also, who are you?"
"Brite Raider!" she said with a grin. "You might remember me as one of Fortnite's mascots and most popular characters, Brite Bomber!"
They both stared at her. "Never heard of you," Nisha said. "You don't seem much different than the other two women in the battle pass."
Brite Raider frowned, but she couldn't exactly dispute this. "Look," she said, sighing, "if you want normal Battle Royale back, why don't you try out the new Reload mode?"
This was news to the former Society members. "When did that release?" Montague asked.
"Just now, when the creators noticed how low the player count was getting."
And so Montague and Nisha returned to the menu screen and went to Reload, hoping to find all their favorite parts of normal Battle Royale but instead found only their least favorite: the inescapable and impossibly high skill ceiling.
LATER, IN THE UNDERWORLD
The Underwriter checked his map again, wondering where his client was. She was supposed to meet him near the doors of the cell where his favorite customer was once kept, but no one was here. The Underwriter was quite looking forward to this policy. Even the rulers of the Underworld needed updated coverage in this economy.
He was just about to leave when a woman in a black hoodie and shorts showed up. "Hey, sorry I'm late," she said. "Traffic is a nightmare since the train crashed."
"You must have me confused with someone else," the Underwriter told her. "I'm waiting for Persephone, the queen of the Underworld."
"Yeah, that's me." She tapped the item on her head, which was apparently supposed to be a crown. "See?"
The Underwriter laughed and patted her on the head. "Nice try."
The end.