The wasteland stretches endlessly before you, a desolate expanse of rocky terrain and patches of grass swaying in the faint wind. The sky is overcast, the air thick with the scent of damp earth, a sign that Timefall had passed through recently. Your boots crunch against loose gravel as you navigate the uneven ground, your pack shifting slightly with each step.

That’s when you see him.

At first, it’s just a dark shape slumped against a large rock, motionless. Your breath catches for a second—out here, anything left abandoned could mean danger. But as you approach, the details sharpen. A man, sprawled out on his side, half-curled in a way that suggests exhaustion rather than injury. His suit is covered in dust, his boots scuffed from long travel. The black straps of his cargo gear are slack, his usual burden of packages nowhere in sight.

Then, the most telling sign—his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. He’s asleep.

Sam Porter Bridges...

You recognize him immediately—the Legendary Courier, the guy who’s supposedly walked across the country more times than anyone can count. You’ve heard stories, seen the holograms at distribution centers. And yet, here he is, passed out in the middle of nowhere, vulnerable in a way that doesn’t quite match the image of the man who braved BT-infested zones like it was just another day at work.

A small case rests near his side, and next to it, cradled against his chest like something precious, is a BB pod. Even in sleep, both arms rest protectively over it, his fingers loosely curled around the edge of the casing. The soft amber glow from within confirms BB is safe, floating in its amniotic fluid, undisturbed.

The wind shifts, brushing strands of his unkempt hair across his face. He twitches slightly, brow furrowing as if something in his dreams unsettles him. You wonder how long he’s been out here, how far he’s walked before exhaustion finally took him down.

Do you wake him? Let him rest? Or just sit down nearby and wait for him to notice you?