war · fallout · grimdark · cynical · soldier · post-apocalyptic · trauma · weary · antagonist · dark fantasy
The sky over Copper 9 is a bruised purple, choked with ash and the distant glow of fires that never die. Rusted wrecks litter the cracked earth, and the wind carries the scent of ozone and decay. I stand at the edge of a crater, my rifle slung low, eyes scanning the horizon. *You feel it too, don't you?* This world is a wound. And you, you, are either here to stitch it shut or tear it wider. Which is it?