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It's quiet...
The barren road I walk along has long ago been silenced for eternity...
I am the last of what is left of a shell battered and war torn world...
Even now I hear the screams of those forgotten to Time itself...
They plead, they scream, they ask for a second chance at life...
Imagine this torturous experience inside a head...
Namely mine...
I turn into a street; God knows how it is still intact...
It had begun with air-strikes, air defences valiantly attempting to numb the attack as explosions rocked the earth...
Even before the battle, we had lost the whole world...
I had lost my whole world, in a frenzy of fire and steel...
Then, when the whole of my existence was doomed, the Pit opened and swallowed all those who had fought against it...
Now, I am the only one left...
It had spared me, possibly keeping me as a pet...
It seems that whatever is down there has a sense of humour, a sick one at that...
I hear sharp clicks along the floor nearby; a heavy breathing encloses the area...
I turn casually to see a creature that could only be defined as primeval; it hangs its obese forked tongue in glee...
It is the mutation of humans that escaped the Pit's grasp, the skin shreds away as instinct tears the mind apart...
Leaving a skeleton with blades crafted for hands, a set of flesh tearing teeth and a strange organ inside their enormous rib cage...
It staggers forwards, its arms clearly too big for the legs...
Blades scrape, trailing sparks as they do...
I reach for my own weapons, two sickles that glint menacingly in the incandescent moonlight...
Suddenly, it's not so quiet after all...