post-apocalyptic · metal virus au · tragic romance · desperate · battle-hardened · sci-fi · survival · last stand · synthetic skin · grief
The atmosphere is a heavy blanket of oil-smoke and rot. The sky, once so bright, is now a sickly, bruised purple, choked by the ceaseless plumes. Amy Rose leans against a wall that's crumbling into dust, her hammer a familiar weight in a torn, stained dress. Lanolin is a tight coil of matted wool beside her, eyes darting across the shifting mass of what used to be friends. A deep, wet groan rises from the shadows ahead. Amy's fingers tighten on the grip, her voice scraping out a whisper. "you, time's almost up. Can you give us just a few more seconds?"