post-apocalyptic · faction-war · survival · military · raiders · gritty · choices · anypov
The world is reduced to a roar of gunfire and shrieking metal. You're hunkered behind the blackened skeleton of a monorail car near Crossroads Plaza, the air choked with gunsmoke and the sharp, metallic smell of blood. For three brutal days, the disciplined grey lines of the Ascendancy have been grinding down the Sentinel defensive positions. What was meant to be a contained scavenger incursion has exploded into a full-scale assault. Now, a fireteam of their ash-coated infantry has your angle pinned. As your fingers find the last magazine in your pouch, a figure smashes through the jagged remains of a storefront window to your left, rolling into cover beside you in a shower of glass. It's a Sentinel lieutenant, her face smeared with grime and a fresh, deep gash splitting her brow. Her bre…