Shadows stir behind long-abandoned concession stands, gift shops, and ride queues. Dilapidated coaster tracks loom in the distance like the ribcage of an ancient, titanic beast.

- Um, as much as I've gotten used to being the only one in this merry band with any common sense, this is a new low. Like, we REALLY shouldn't be here.

You turn and eye Champ, without a word. The heavy silence fills the hot air.

- ...
- Right. Uh, the show must go on! As they say! Haha...

Funland Gone Afoul

Wow. This place sucks.

That's really the long and short of it.

Tintown

- Put your knife down. You say you were framed? I'm a very reasonable man. I'd be willing to listen and get you out of here if you just cooperate. 
- That's it.
- I'm sorry for all this. It must be so confusing for a girl your age to...

A large shadow passes over you and Bowen.

- What was that?

PROTOCOL: FIRST_FLIGHT

The year is 2053. Thirty years ago, the government of the United States of America revolutionized their criminal justice system; the entire state of Florida was evacuated and relocated, turned into the world's largest prison, and left under the watchful eye of all-American hero Joseph Bowen. 

Your name is Melissa Prescott. You like dogs, indie filmmaking, your father, and sleeping. Every night, you have a bad dream.

Light Out Of Darkness (Opening Title)

The room is covered, absolutely COVERED in huge "NO SMOKING" signs. The latent scent of gasoline and gunpowder overwhelms your lungs.

- whatthehelldoyouthinkyouredoinghereyouLOWLYlittleGUTTERCRAWLINGRAT
- icantSTAND""people""likeyouwhothinkthattheyreabovetheLAWandabovetheECONOMY
- abovetheCORPORATELADDER

The girl in front of you spoke too fast for you to understand, but she appears to be loading a rocket launcher, so the chances of a peaceful resolution are looking pretty low.

Rockety Ruckus

- Look into the mirrors, Miss Prescott, for but a moment.
- Surely you can do me this service? For a poor crone like myself, can't you afford just one glance into my life's work?
- I sense tension in you, young lady. What else to remove the burden but a missing piece of your past? Or, if it should suit your fancy...
- A vision of your future, as well...

The Parlor of the Mirrors

A familiar cold fog surrounds you. 
It grasps at your ankles as if sentient; as if it is trying to drag you down into Hell itself.
From just outside the shroud, one voice softly hums. Then, another. Five more. Ten more. A hundred more. An entire symphony rises beyond the mist.
The mountain towers imperiously, even reduced to nothing but a shadow in the fog. 
You should feel small. Alone. Guilty. Afraid.
But you feel nothing at all.
The ground rumbles beneath you.

Prelude

Through your concealed vantage point, you can see that little girl with the massive crown again. She walks haughtily through a swarm of terrified underlings, all hard at work affixing upside-down crosses to the bark of nearby trees and emblazoning banners with a silhouette of herself - albeit much larger and more imperious than the genuine article.

You've never been one for murderous swamp-dwelling blood cults, but when you're already trapped in a state-sized prison blasted by the testing of nuclear armaments, nothing's really out of the question.

Sovereignty

- YOU!!!

Kimberly brandishes her scepter towards you, the glow of the candles in the ritual circle illuminating her wrathful gaze.

- Even in your interference with divinity, you have advanced my plans more than you could know. I have not sensed such great potential in a vessel in CENTURIES!
- How will it feel, I wonder? To fall into a deep and dreamless sleep, fuel for my glorious zenith? Why, you must feel proud!
- WE'RE GOING TO CHANGE THE WORLD, YOU AND I! JUST LOOK, EVERYONE AGREES!

A chill wind fills the room. The candles' flames bend with the force of the gale, and hundreds of pairs of lost eyes peer from beneath the pews and among the rafters.

- THEY didn't get anywhere NEAR satiating me! But you...
- Your blood will birth me in cleansing flame, Melissa! 
- SOUND THE SEVENTH TRUMPET! THE RITUAL IS AT HAND!

Sanguine Fanfare

The biting cold of the room hangs almost visibly in the air. The rather standoffish woman standing before you is bizarrely, if practically, dressed in full winter gear as she looms over the bed.

- Wake up, fucknuts. I'm Lydia. Congratulations, you're in prison. Make yourself comfortable.

Icy Demeanor

Stumbling out of Lydia's freezing house into the humid Florida air makes your skin tingle and tighten, reacting to the sudden heat of the rising sun coming over a gargantuan mound of trash.

On top of the monstrous amalgamation of refuse, a hunched man plays what appears to be a makeshift violin. His melody, although faint from such a distance, compels you to stop and listen.

And Their Eyes Were Watching Garbage

Lydia brandishes her cleaver. Champ whimpers and physically attempts to hide himself behind you, despite being a good 14 inches taller.

- It's every girl, loser, and dog for themselves out there.
- I hate to say it, kid. I really do. I like you, but you're too soft to last here, and we BOTH know it.
- So I'm giving you an ultimatum.
- Kill me...
- Or I'll sure as hell kill you first!

In Cold Blood

- Uh, hiya. It's me, from that... truck? Back there? I, uh-

- made an absolute clown of yourself? yeah, i remember.

- ...
- Not what I would've said, personally, but I guess I'm not you.
- I'm Champ. It seems like you and me have got a mutual interest in getting out of here. I know you probably think I'm obnoxious and talk too much and I'm not as funny as I think I am and I'm in over my head and...

This "Champ" continues to list hypothetical reasons you would have for wanting nothing to do with him until your brain starts to filter them out.

- ...but, maybe we could get further if we worked together?

Champ

You recall something your mother said to you as a young girl.

- Melissa, your relentless optimism is really the thing that sets you apart from everyone else. It sets you ABOVE them, actually, in their cynical, small worldviews - and that makes them want to take you down a peg. That attitude isn't gonna serve you in the real world, but since when have you ever learned a lesson?

Boxcutter (Tintown)

- Whew! That was a close call! 

As you catch your breath from the fight, Champ rummages through his coat and produces an old tape recorder, pressing the Play button and unleashing a jovial tune.

Victory Jingle

A dinged-up speaker stands at the mouth of the dark road. Looking deep into the inky night, lit up every few feet by faded streetlamps, you feel it may swallow you whole.

The speaker blares:
- WELCOME TO PEASHOOTER PROVINCE. REPORT NEW ARRIVALS DIRECTLY TO THE NEAREST KENNEDY TIMES INFOBOX. TRESSPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED. THIS MESSAGE WILL NOW REPEAT.

Wrong Side of the Tracks

Ivan stands on the surface of the lake in front of you, blocking a narrow passage between two massive mangrove trees.

- TRESSPASSERS!!!

The water underneath the man foams and suddenly splits open, the form of the massive beast he commands rising from the swamp's murk. 

- You've done mighty well for yourself, but you're not getting any further. Madame Kim's plans aren't going to be halted by chum like you. Not now, and not ever.
- She is truth. She is nature. She is EVERYTHING, get me?!
- Time to teach you a thing or two about the food chain, cher!

Éclat for the Fused

From the Psalms of the Rejuvenating Mistress:

"And here, we shall construct our chapel. Yes, upon this consecrated ground, blood will be shed. But that is the oath to which you were sworn. To create your own Goddess, no matter the cost."

Sanguis Sacellum

Oh my stars! It's famed indie filmmaker Liam Bennett, known far and wide as the master of the esoteric, so devoted to his craft that he went so far as to POISON his own actors! Because... because he could, I suppose. It really only took away from the film, actually.

citric noir

- Silence, silence, everybody! Her Supremacy approaches!

The cultists part, to reveal a ten year old girl wearing a massive crown that nearly doubles her height.

What?

Mistress of the Chosen

What an idyllic middle-American town! It almost makes you forget about the tyrannical government that is always looming over you.

...Almost.

All American Hometown

- Yes, Warden Bowen graciously put his career and life on the line to watch over the Trash Zone, throwing his past self away to protect the country.
- That's why we made this statue, in his hometown.
- Look at all the people, sweetie.

You and your father sit there for hours, not speaking, watching admirers of the statue come and go like the ebb and flow of the tides.

Daddy's Home

- The Trash Zone is a very bad place, filled with the worst people this country has to offer. You wouldn't wanna end up there, Melissa.

- like hell?

- Y...
- Y-yes, like Hell.

Daddy's Dead

Ah! Here's a friendly face, at last. How goes it today, Bert?

- welp, last i checked, im still homeless.

Bert The Bum

At the barren top of the mountain, there's a phone booth. The last surviving remnant of the Warden's charred estate.

And it's ringing.

Happy Little Accidents

As soon as you pass over the dark forest's last ridge, you are blinded the most blazing sun you have ever seen. A crude sign sticks out of the ground in front of you.

- WELCOME TO THE SCORCHING WASTES ; HOME OF THE UNITED NATIONS SCIENTIFIC EMBASSY, CLOUD LABORATORIES, AND THE TESTING GROUNDS FOR THE TRASH ZONE'S GREATEST TECHNOLOGICAL ACHIEVEMENTS!
- ZERO DAYS SINCE LAST WORKPLACE INJURY.

Scorching Wastes

With your aircraft assembled, you finally take to the skies to meet ICARUS face to face.

- TECHNOLOGICAL INGENUITY SHOWN IS 
- IMPRESSIVE
- IT ALMOST REMINDS ME OF MY OWN GENIUS. 
- YOUR ASSESSMENT HAS BEEN BUMPED UP FROM 
- ;QUOT;POWERLESS_WORM;&QUOT; 
- TO ;QUOT;POWERLESS_RAT;&QUOT;
- CONGRATULATIONS. 
- ALL THE SAME, YOU ARE AS FOOLISH AS YOU ARE FRAGILE IF YOU BELIEVE THAT LOAD OF SCRAP METAL CAN STAND AGAINST ME
- YOUR STRIVING IS INSIGNIFICANT
- LET YOUR DEATH BE THE SAME.

PROTOCOL: ICARUS

A rather gaunt figure stands at the top of the building, reduced to a silhouette in the twilight. 

- who could that be, up there? that girl with the impeccable fashion sense and glorious, golden-red hair?

You jump in surprise - the sentence seems to have come from directly next to you. You cautiously scan your surroundings until you come upon the realization that the woman on top of the building is obviously throwing her voice.

- could that be... COULD IT REALLY BE..?!?

Two MASSIVE spotlights illuminate the building, which appears to be a high-rise apartment with at least half of the windows completely blown out. The woman jumps down the fire escape and lands squarely before you.

- YES, IT IS! THE TANTALIZING, TERRIFIC, TOP-NOTCH TRACER BULLET,
- ACE DETECTIVE CRIME-FIGHTING VIGILANTE SUPERHERO!
- and, so help me, interloper...
- i will act on my RESPONSIBILITY to DEFEND this city!
- I WILL APPREHEND YOU! I WILL STOP YOU FROM DOING...
- ...WHATEVER IT IS YOU'VE DONE!
- STAY ON YOUR GUARD, INTRUDER!!! HEEEHEHEHEHEHAHHAHEHA!

Tracer Bullet, Ace Detective Crime-Fighting Vigilante Superhero

The dark streets of this city are alive with people, all conversing and laughing with one another. Around every corner, a street musician plays their heart out, even if there's no money to be gained. You'd think this was the greatest place on the planet, if it wasn't filled with hardened criminals.

Bullet Town

Tracer Bullet, Ace Detective Crime-Fighting Vigilante Superhero, stands before you. Spinning spotlights light up the city's industrial district, as the trench-coated sleuth steadily rises upon a girder held (with dubious stability at best) by a makeshift crane.

- ATTENTION! this is it, folks! the moment you've ALLLLLL been waiting for!!!
- THIS GIRL, MELISSA PRESCOTT, has been a MENACE to our beautiful city for far too long! and she has EVADED the LONG ARM of JUSTICE for an even more insulting length of time!
- I WILL NOT LET THIS STAND!!! 
- SILENCE ALL CELL PHONES AND RECORDING DEVICES, AND PLEASE DO ENJOY...
- TRACER BULLET'S "TIGHTROPE LIFELINE"!

TIGHTROPE LIFELINE!!!

Soundtrack page for Trash Zone, following Melissa Prescott's journey to escape the lawless Florida badlands of 2050, make peace with the surprisingly lovable criminals that reside there, and clear her name.
Links forthcoming.

Trash Zone Official Soundtrack

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