One year before the events of Death Stranding
The rain came down in chiral streaks, glistening as it hit the ruins of the forgotten city. Roads once carved by human ambition were now cracked and overtaken by moss, reclaimed by nature and time—and something else. Something older. Something watching.
Kael Rainer stood beneath the fractured frame of a derelict overpass, a tattered tarp draped over his shoulders like a cloak. His breath steamed in the chilled air. The Odradek on his shoulder ticked quietly, rotating in a slow, cautious spin.
He scanned the skeletal remains of what used to be Baton Rouge—or at least what the pre-Stranding maps had labeled it. The buildings here no longer had names. Streets no longer had meaning. No people lived here. Only memories. And the dead.
"This place feels...tired," Kael muttered.
Next to him, a small shadow stirred—barely visible, except to those who shared his burden. A girl-shaped silhouette walked at his side, flickering slightly where the rain passed through her. Mire. His constant companion. A ghost, some would say. A BT to most. But to Kael, she was something more—a tether, a guide, perhaps even a mirror of his own soul.
Mire paused and pointed toward a crumbled structure that might once have been a grocery store. Her expression, though wordless, was clear: There's something here.
Kael adjusted the cargo case on his back, feeling its familiar hum through the thick straps of his suit. Inside was a chiral-sealed canister, marked with outdated Bridges symbols and a warning label that read only:
"CLASSIFIED – LIVING PAYLOAD. HANDLE WITH EXTREME CAUTION."
He hadn't opened it. He never did. Porters weren't supposed to ask questions. That was how you survived.
But something about this one felt wrong.
"Let's take a look," Kael said softly, stepping forward. His boots splashed through shallow puddles of oily water, the kind that never quite reflected correctly. Mire followed, her footsteps making no sound.
Inside, the store was dark, half-collapsed. Shelves lay like broken ribs across the ground. What light made it through the cracked ceiling danced across floating dust and chiral residue. Kael swept his flashlight across the wreckage.
A small object caught the beam—a stuffed animal, half-submerged in a mound of debris. A rabbit, decayed and fossilized by time and exposure to chiral contamination. Its button eyes were gone.
Kael crouched beside it, brushing moss away with a gloved hand. "A kid's toy," he murmured. "Might've been here since the Fall."
Mire knelt beside him, silent as ever. She reached toward the toy but stopped, fingers hovering. Her outline shimmered faintly, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to hush—as if holding its breath.
Then the Odradek clicked. Once. Twice. A low whine began.
Kael froze.
Mire slowly raised a finger.
BT.
The air grew cold, thick with static. Raindrops floated in midair, stilled by stilltime. The light dimmed unnaturally, as though swallowed by an unseen tide. Tar began to bubble up from cracks in the floor.
Kael stood slowly, breathing steady. No panic. No fear.
From the darkened back of the store, it emerged—a shape of black strands and voidlight, dragging itself along unseen terrain. It moved like a memory, broken and searching. A twisted humanoid form with elongated arms and a missing face.
A Cat-1 BT. Not rare, but aggressive. Especially if it was guarding something.
Mire moved closer, placing herself protectively between Kael and the specter.
He held out his hand gently. "It's okay. Let me."
She paused. Then nodded.
Kael stepped forward, removing his glove. The Odradek stilled, as if confused.
The BT hesitated mid-motion, limbs twitching as if pulled by conflicting winds.
Kael spoke softly, voice calm and clear. "You're not here to hurt anyone, are you? You just want to be remembered."
The BT twitched again, its body flickering like a glitch in space. The tar at its feet rippled outward but didn't rise.
Kael reached into a pouch at his side and drew out a smooth stone pendant. A child had once given it to him after he delivered their family heirlooms through a storm. It had no real value, except for what it represented.
He held it out. "They used to call this a wishing stone. You remember what that means?"
The BT drifted closer. Its form stilled. For a brief second, Kael saw something within the creature's chest—a small flash of white, like a face behind glass. A girl's face. Eyes wide. Reaching.
Then it was gone.
The BT turned, gliding back into the tar without a sound. As it vanished, the stilltime lifted. The rain resumed. The Odradek retracted.
Kael lowered his hand and put the pendant away.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Mire stood beside him, her face unreadable. She looked at the cargo case on his back.
It was humming now.
Louder than before.
Kael's brow furrowed. He unbuckled it carefully, set it on the ground, and pressed a diagnostic button.
The interface flickered. Chiral levels rising. Biological activity detected. Heartbeat irregular.
"What the hell is in you?" he muttered.
He looked at Mire. She didn't speak—she never did—but her expression was clear.
Worry.
For the first time since Kael accepted this contract, Mire looked afraid.
The canister pulsed softly with a deep, golden light. Like a breath. Or a warning.
Outside, thunder rolled across the darkened sky. And in the distance, something howled—not quite animal, not quite human. Something that remembered being alive.
Kael rose slowly, securing the cargo again.
"We deliver," he said under his breath, his old creed. "But not without answers."
He turned toward the shattered horizon, Mire walking beside him like a shadow stitched to his soul.
The Beach had stirred.
And something had begun to look back.