Chapter Text
“OH MY GOD THEY HIT THE FIRST TOWER!!!!!” The Jersey Mike’s erupted in panic. “It seems really pessimistic saying that it hit the first tower,” quipped Red Herring. The man in the basketball shirt asked: “Don’t you remember what happened on 9/11? We’ve seen this before. It’s happening all over again”.
“What.”
“Oh my god were you just born.”
“Maybe.”
“Whatever, you’ve got to do something!”
“WHAT. DO. YOU. MEAN. WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT ME TO DO. THAT’S A PLANE. I’M NO HERO,” shouted Red Herring. Suddenly, a chant began in the Jersey Mike’s: “Be a hero! Be a hero! BE A HERO! BE A HERO!”. “Listen, whether you like it or not, you’re America’s only hope,” said the man in the stupid fucking basketball shirt. “The Triplet Towers have been hit, the ‘government’ is collapsing, and-”.
All of a sudden, a United States armored vehicle—now bearing a Mr. Beast logo as part of a sponsorship to try and get rid of national debt—rolled up to the front of the Jersey Mike’s. “Oh shit, it’s the feds!” said the sandwich artist. A small panic was re-induced in the building. The artist ushered Red Herring and Basketshirts into the public restroom.
“Take two lefts and a right! It’s in the third stall. We’re counting on you”. He then shut the door and locked it.
“…This is too much.”
“I mean what do you expect? You’re a very high value target right now. I’m surprised they even let you leave the Grey House.”
“Whatever. I’m gonna piss.”
“Alright.”
…
Outside of the bathroom, the cloaked feds emerged from their vehicle and entered the Jersey Mike’s—they looked unarmed, but who knows. As they entered, the sandwich artist quickly positioned themselves in front of the door to the bathroom very conspicuously-inconspicuous. The feds went up, and the one with the slightly eviler-looking robes stepped forward and said in a heavy voice:
“Show us the ‘Red Savior’.”
The artist said that he was nowhere to be found, still obviously body-blocking the door.
“We know he’s in the bathroom. We saw you hiding him through the window. Let us in.”
The artist, with his quick thinking said “Sorry, the restrooms are for paying customers only.”
The rest of the citizens at the Jersey Mike’s, realizing his plan, lined up at the registers before the feds could and began ordering. This resulted in a defeated sigh from the cloaked figures, followed by them lining up for their order. In the midst of the chaos of the 5/01 attacks, the people of Jersey Mike’s united for one purpose. It’s all up to the Red Savior now.
…
“Okay, I’m done.”
“Hey, now that I think about it, how do you piss?”
“…Wait, yeah. What was I doing in there?”
“Also, have you noticed that this bathroom is fucking huge? It’s also just stalls. No sinks or urinals or anything.”
“Weird.”
Red Herring and the fatass basketball fan went down the seemingly endless corridors of stalls until they found the stall that they were looking for. They opened it to reveal a stall with no toilet, but rather a hole with a ladder leading down into darkness. Seeing no other options, they descended just as the feds burst into the restrooms with Portabella Chicken Cheese Steaks and a large drink in hand.
Reaching the bottom of the pit, they reach what seems to be a large tunnel with tracks in it. Entering the tunnel, they feel an impending sense of doom. A train whizzes by, narrowly missing the pocket of the tunnel they were in. With nothing else to do, they began going the way they felt was right.
As they walked down the long tunnel, Basketboy sparks up conversation. “Well hey, looks like we’ve got some time to kill! Seems like a great moment for some character development. How about you tell me a little bit about yourself?”
“I already told you, I know nothing. Stop asking me.”
“Why does it say Red Herring on your name tag?”
“I slipped on what I think was a Red Herring as soon as I had gotten out of my coffin, so that’s what I named myself. I don’t know why I woke up with this on.”
“That’s dumb. That’d be like if my mom named me Umbilical Cord.”
“Very funny.”
…
Red Herring continued. “What’s your name anyway?”
“Everyone calls me Coach. They’ve called me Coach for so long that I don’t remember my actual name.”
“Really?”
“No, it’s Matthew Johnsons.”
“Do you like basketball?”
“It’s all I live for.”
“You play it?”
“Hell no, look at me. I’m fat as fuck. I could probably only get 4 inches off the ground if I tried. I used to though, back when I was in my prime. But that was like in 2nd grade. I used to rule the court, dunking, juking, shooting 6-pointers. I was the goa-”
“Wait wait wait wait. 6-pointers? What?”
“I was lying. How did you know I was lying? I thought you said you didn’t know anything.”
“…Yeah, I thought I did. Huh.”
“Oh dude do you think we need to restore your memories or something?”
“Maybe. Or maybe that was just a shit lie.”
After walking for a little longer, they made it to a set of stairs leading to a train station platform. Almost as if planned for their arrival, a train rolls up. For being in a subway, it’s quite strange, considering the train looks more reminiscent of a steam train. Red Herring looks at the destination on a sign: “TRAIN JM - New Flagstaff, KI: ON TIME”.
“‘KI’? Where’s that?”
“Frankly, I’m not sure. I know us Americans are bad at geography and all but I can’t think of any states that abbreviate to ‘KI’,” Coach added.
“Well, we don’t have much of a choice, do we?”
The two of them boarded the train. It was completely empty, except for one man in a vest bearing a conductor's hat. I think it’s reasonable to assume he was the conductor. He seated the 2 of them in a private cart, and offered them coffee and biscuits. The two of them politely declined, having just eaten. The conductor then pulls up an antique Luger pistol, points it at them, and in a German-but-not-really sounding accent asks the two:
“So, what brings you here?”
Red Herring and Coach are taken aback, but you can’t really tell Red Herring is because he’s a skeleton. Coach responds, “Uh… the guy at Jersey Mike’s sent us down here.”
“Ah. Good.” He puts away his pistol. “So you’re part of the Resistance.”
Red Herring interrupts: “I don’t want to be part of any ‘Resistance’.”
“You gotta” the others say in unison. Red Herring sighs.
“So, where are we going?” Coach asks. “I’ve never heard of a ‘KI’ state”.
The conductor walks around the train and solemnly drags his hand along a plaque on the train’s wall reading ‘1956’. “This railroad was built in secret when Jersey Mike’s was first founded. Nobody knows about its existence but Jersey Mike’s employees. They’re all under a very strict NDA , you could say. You’re on the way to the Jersey Mike’s in New Flagstaff, Key Island.”
“How come I’ve never heard of this state?”
“That’s ‘cause it’s not on any map. Top secret 51st state, annexed 1978. For some reason, nobody questions why Puerto Rico was declared the 52nd state. The government wanted to use Key Island for secret operations, but forgot about it. Somehow, the Jersey Mike’s was also already there when they found it. There’s some infrastructure, mainly abandoned government buildings. I’m not entirely sure, this is the first time I’ve had to bring people there.”
Coach tries to check the news on his phone, but he can’t get a signal. He notices an old radio set sitting in the booth beside them. “Hey, you mind turning on that radio?”. “Of course,” replied the conductor.
*bzzzzzzzt* “-and it’s a cool 63 degrees ou-” *bzzt* “-ide on this lovely night of May 1st and… I’m sorry, what was that? Okay. Hey folks so it seems we have a development on the “terrorist” attacks—yeah right—that have been happening across the U.S. as of late. It seems there’s a fourth plane that is still in the U.S. airspace after the grounding order, and—yeah can we just pull it up on the bi-” *bzzt* “-screen here—it seems it’s headed for…”
“Oh. It’s heading for the Hexagon. You know I never really understood why they called it a hexagon. Sure they ‘tech-” *bzzt* “-cally’ added a 6th side, but they didn’t move any of the other side’s for it. It’s just sticking out of a corner. It kind of looks like a lollipop. Oh, yeah right. Yeah they hit the Hexagon. Like a couple seconds ago. Anyways, this is your radio host Murphy Guillermo signing off for the evening. Goodnight, Ameri-”
*bzzzzzzzt*
The conductor turned off the radio.