"She was bred to be the perfect soldier. She doesn't blink, she doesn't think, and most importantly she doesn't hesitate. She just kills without remorse."
Her entire life, Storm had only be one thing; a mindless soldier for those around her to use f...
"If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you,
If the party was over and our time on Earth was through,
I'd wanna hold you just for a while and die with a smile."
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THE SUN ROSELIKE A DULL, bruised eye, barely visible through the thick clouds of ash and smoke that hang over the city like a funeral shroud. It's an eerie light, fragile and cold, struggling to pierce the layers of pollution that have long since turned the atmosphere into a poisonous haze. The once-pure sky was now a sickly canvas of fading hues, the remnants of a world that used to know color.
The city beneath it was a broken shell of itself-nothing like the bustling metropolis it once was many years ago. Towering skyscrapers, their glass windows shattered and jagged, rising like the skeletal remains of giants. Their steel frames groaned in the faint wind that stirred the smoke, bending under the weight of their decay. Once-grand buildings were reduced to hollowed-out husks, their structures riddled with cracks, crumbling bricks, and exposed rebar. The streets below were a jagged mass of concrete rubble, abandoned vehicles, and rusting machinery, all slowly consumed by the relentless erosion of time and neglect.
The factionless area, bleak and unforgiving, stretched for miles and miles, taking up most of the ruined city. Its vast territory left the trio trudging through the streets as they tried to fight off the exhaustion.
Storm fought down a strangled groan. Her entire body was either bruised, bloody, or scarred. None of her wounds ever had time to heal. She pushed through the last few months on sheer willpower alone, swiping away the blood like water and the tears like sweat.
The pain felt like a million pins all pricking her at once; more annoying than anything truly debilitating. However, she could feel her body slowing down. She was grasping at straws, fighting against the tide in order not to drown. It was inevitable that at some point she might drop dead from pure exhaustion, that the tidal waves would pull her under to never resurface.
But it won't be today.
She reminded herself that this was truly nothing. Not in comparison to what Jeanine and her trainer, Jake, put her through. Nothing could be worse than that.
Storm adjusted the silencer on her customized rifle, a weapon that had been with her since the dawn of her training. It won't be today.
They had been walking for about two miles now. She held onto her rifle tightly, trailing behind the two stiffs to make sure no one was following their steps. Whenever she heard a rustle or a small gust of wind, she fired without hesitation. Even if there was nothing, her paranoia was far too strong. Her mother had scouts all over Chicago. That was a fact; probably some in the factionless crowd as well. She would take no chances.
