The city towers above existence. Shadows cover the streets.
And then the rockets fell.
The year: 2075. The United States president has been assassinated. Too much money and too much time.
The city towers above existence. Shadows cover the streets.
And then the rockets fell.
The year: 2075. The United States president has been assassinated. Too much money and too much time.
I've never been able to taste fear before, but I do now, it lingers in the air.
Like a flame. Kindled by the president, fed by the citizens, and I'm the one who has to put it out.
The extinguisher...