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It was a normal day, no hint of anything going wrong. No one knows what happened, but projectiles rained down from the sky. A mix of bio weapons and ICBMs hit all across the world. Knowing the air would be toxic very soon, most people flocked to the sewers. The ones left behind died or became something else. Only experienced scavengers with top notch gas masks can go to the surface and return, telling of monstrous beings preying on anything that dared to adventure out of the sewers. Our story begins in 2098, 77 years after the air become toxic in a major city made of scrap metal in the sewers, named Gloria.

(So, that's my quickly put together game starter. PM me if you're interested.)

He walked in the door of the hotel, discarding a cigarette into a waste bin near the front door. He flipped a switch, which made a neon sign near the front light up, that said Open. He walked behind the counter with a sigh, and turned on a radio on the counter to play Run Rabbit Run.

Aytia sighed, her hair falling against her back in a rhythm. The sewers were so bland, but they were all she'd ever known; she had been born and raised here. it's not like she really knew anything about before, either. She had nothing to compare the city to, so how could it be bland..?

She shook her head, pulling a small canteen out of her pocket. Aytia unscrewed the cap slowly as she yawned, lifting the opening to her lips. One swig.. two.. three.. the cool feeling of the liquid running down her throat calmed her. The girl looked to her left, as she was now standing in front of the hotel, and waved at the man behind the counter with a soft, polite smile.

He waved back, then asked "Hello, do you need anything?" he reached to the radio, then turned the volume down so that it could barely be heard. He then lit another cigarette, and took a puff. It spread smoke all over the room, that would dissipate quickly.

"No, not really,but I'm killing time," Aytia shrugged nonchalantly as she walked into the building, looking around. "I just thought it would be polite to wave." She leaned against the counter, taking another sip. "How's it goin' so far?" She inquired, not bothering to look back at the man. Another yawn escaped her lips; she had gotten no sleep in the last 24 hours, from yesterday morning to the next. It wasn't healthy, really, but she just couldn't sleep some nights. It sucked, yeah, but that was life's specialty.

"I got stuck in a dead end job managing a hotel, and my lungs are piles of crap, my closest comfort is my soup closet." He looked down at the floor, lazily bolted together from rusty scrap metal. "At times like this, you wonder if the stories your parents told you about a bright past are true." He turned the radio volume up a small bit, still staring at the floor.

"Then you start to wonder if a bright future is possible as well. Until they get crushed by the harsh reality that we'll be stuck down here forever most likely.." Aytia mumbled to herself, setting the canteen back into her pocket. Then she turned around abruptly and stuck her hand out to shake. "I'm Aytia Foster. Nice to meet you.." She waited for a response, for a name to say, for a shake. Making acquaintances was all she could do to bear this literal hell-hole for a bit longer. He probably didn't feel the same, but it was nice to have at least a friend down here. She knew that.

What if he didn't feel the same at all? What if she was just embarrassing herself? Ew. That would be gross.

"Harris Winthrop, good to meet you too." He stared at the floor, while turning the radio's volume up some more. He pulled out a cigarette, and took a puff. "Now, if you're not here to buy a room or pay rent, get out please." he looked at his watch, then at a notebook on the desk. Then he looked up at the smoke from the cigarette, lingering up on the roof, and sighed.

A soft chuckle rose from her throat. "Of course, of course. I'll see you around, Winthrop." Aytia held up a hand as to wave 'goodbye'. "Enjoy your shift~"

She walked back out the way she came, walking back to her apartment complex. Her parents had been somewhat lucky with money, so she lived okay. She had been left with their makings after they died, and planned to get a job soon to keep it coming. Aytia knew she wouldn't get to live here, in this sewer-city. No, there was nothing enjoyable. She tried and tried, but her happiness was long gone, the metal seemingly sucking it out of her. Would she be here forever..? The thought was unbearable.

The music on the radio was replaced with someone calmly telling about a abomination that had crashed through a wooden hatch, leading to the hell scape above. He puffed on a cigarette for a moment, then looked through the window. Militia men, clad in gas masks and makeshift air tight rubber suits were rushing up a tunnel, leading to a cloud of gas slowly creeping towards Gloria.

A large group of militia men ran right over her, knocking her onto the ground. "H-hey! What's the big ide-"

She was too late. They were already gone. It must've been important if they completely ignored her. "Whatever." She turned back around and stood up, heading back towards her apartment. She opened the main door, heading towards the stairs. Aytia lived on the topmost floor; this was her workout everyday. She walked up flight after flight, just like everyday, bland and tasteless. She heard some people freaking out on floor 4, screaming about some radiated air that got in. Didn't matter to her. If it didn't get stopped, at least she didn't have to stay here. She would be gone, and happy for once.

He was tired of running from life, so he decided to stay for awhile. The closest place to stop was a hotel, and the 'OPEN' sign was on, so he walked towards it. He opened the door, and immediately slammed his head on the doorway.

He shrugged off the ruckus outside, and looked at the man that slammed his head in the doorframe. "Welcome to the hotel." He said, staring past him. He lit another cigarette, and took a puff. Smoke spread across the room, as he looked outside the window. He watched people getting trampled by the sheer bulk of militia men rushing past, tightening gas masks and loading shotguns.

He got up quickly, rubbing the spot where he hit his head. "Welcome to the hotel." the man said, staring at the ruckus outside. He took another puff on his cigarette, watching the commotion grow more and more intense as the men outside tightened their masks and loaded their shotguns. "Uhhmm, I would like to reserve a room for the next month." He said, assured by the fact that he had the money to stay here for some time.

He turned to a filing cabinet behind him, and looked through the papers. He did this for some time, before he finally took out a paper. He scanned it, and put it back. Then he opened a steam trunk on the floor, and looked through it. The jingle of keys could be heard as he scrounged through it, before he finally took a key out. It was on a key chain, the only other thing on the keychain was a leather label stitched to say 46. He looked at his watch, and gave a slight grin. "My shift's over, catch." He tossed the key chain at Mike, and took his coat off a coat rack sitting behind the desk.

As the man left, he called after him, "Thanks." He checked the number stitched into the leather on the key. 46. He walked over to the levels chart, and looked for the level he would be on. Level 5. He went over to the stairs and jogged up them, eventually finding the floor and walking to his room. He plopped his bag down, finding that it felt heavier than ever. The bed looked so warm to him. Just before he fell asleep, a popping noise broke the silence, but he was too tired to notice.

He walked outside, the gas already drifting close to the ground in the town square. He started walking to the outskirts of town, where he owned a project which he made when he had nothing better to do in his teens. A shack made of bricks, like a pre-war building. A part of it was patched up with scrap now, due to bandits usually lurking on the outskirts of town. As far as he cared, he owed this glory to an extremely early mid life crisis and a rusty shotgun. He unlocked the door, and opened it to lead to a dull atmosphere, now only lit by a battery powered lantern. He went to sleep down on a mattress held up by cinder blocks. Meanwhile, gas was slowly flooding the town square.

He woke up with caffeine withdrawal. His hands struggled to grasp the small travel cup inside his bag, which could replicate any type of drinkable liquid. He said, "Caffeinated Coffee, Warm," and the travel mug filled up with the warm, sticky liquid.
He drank it, feeling the withdrawal slowly go away. He got out of the bed and checked his watch. 10:59 A.M. He got up and walked down the stairs to the lobby, hoping to find someone to talk to.

He yawned, and got out of bed. He went to the mini-fridge to find a rusty thermos filled with a greenish brown liquid. The poor man's coffee, a mix of a quart of the rich man's greenhouse grown coffee, mixed with the meat and bones of whatever mutated animals showed up within the town. He downed all of it, and put it back in the mini-fridge. He opened the door and started his daily trudge to the town square. As he walked, he found a carriage being powered by the legs of two horribly mutated monsters. The carriage, being a thrown together piece of junk made with scrap metal, rubber and automobile tires was hurtling towards the town square. As it passed by he saw through a window it was packed with masked men, brandishing everything from the average low caliber pistol to a shotgun.

No one was down there, so he decided to finish his coffee and go back to his room. He grabbed the pair of fresh Nike's, which were very old, but treated well. He also grabbed his IPhone and Microphone jack, put it into a small travel day bag, and walked down to the town square, to dance. He chose a spot, and grabbed another item he put in his pocket: a paper bag with eye cutouts. He chose a song called 'Wiee', by a very old person named 'Martin Garrix'. He listened to it for one rotation, then played it on his jack to dance to. By the fifth rotation, he had collected 20 Credits, enough to buy Lunch and Dinner. he was packing up, taking the paper bag off his head and pulling on a hoodie with a hood big enough to shadow his face, when he saw the man who was at the front desk of the hotel, walking down the street. He decided to walk over to him.