Smoke, ash, and dust. Each work in tandem, invisible hands choking the life from an already dead city.

Thirty-three years ago, children would have walked the street, giggling as their parents watched on, cars and cabs racing down the streets as their inhabitants continued their life– now a fleeting dream. The smell of wafting gasoline has vanished, given way to the foul stench of burning rubber, a hint of rot, and pulverized cement. Corner shops sit as husks of stores— all shelves looted for everything they can offer, dust collecting heavily on their surfaces. The smooth streets give way to loose gravel, asphalt, and shattered glass with broken down cars dotting every inch of the streets. The buildings once filled with opportunity have dried up, the workers who filled their rooms long gone, either long fled to safer places or buried with the businesses they worked for.

The worst part was the choking smog wafting about. Trees, grass, and weeds? Unseen anywhere near this place since the Phenomenon. It's overwhelming density obscures anything not directly in front of ones face, not even the sun peeking through its abyssal depths. It was dark. Pure dark.

The crunching of gravel against the hard sole of boot sounds throughout the streets, the loose rocks sliding beneath those who dare walk across them. Four figures are on their way, taking shape in a distinct diamond pattern, flashlight beams dancing across the dark ground. Across the four, three of them wear a gas mask that stretch from their forehead to their chin, the outlier in the front having his shirt pulled over his nose. Said outlier coughs, sputtering as he waves some pungent, dense smog away from his face. The effort proves futile as his coughing grows violent, the collar of his shirt falling from his face as he catches his breath.

“Damned city. Damned Demons. Damned smog.” He mutters to himself, his face scrunching up. He adjusts his thick, padded shirt, the action shifting the similarly colored high-caliber vest as well. He takes a look to his left to focus on one of his party members– a slim woman with long, strawberry blonde hair pooling out of a deep green hood fused to an equally long green cloak that drags against the floor, dragging filth into its woven depths. Most of her body is concealed, though she has a sense of agility, a sort of mousy quality that hints at a speed far beyond an average human. Her head flicks from side to side like a camera, vigilant in her task.

The man calls out in a booming voice, his voice echoing off the buildings “Aye, Jessica! You see anybody?”

The woman known as Jessica whips her head around, her eyes wide, nearly bulging out of her skull as she whirls, pointing a slim, compact bow at him. The wood bends in the blink of an eye, the string already pulled back with an arrow cleanly knocked, ready to fire at a moment's notice. It takes her a moment to realize her mistake before she slowly eases the grip, putting the arrow back in her quiver as she responds between deep, shaking breaths. “N-no, Alexis. Nothing yet…”

Alexis nods slowly, his eyebrows furrowing as he looks around himself. If not people, then maybe...

“Demons?”

“N-No.” She responds, her hands fidgeting together.

“Not one?” He questions further, his voice colored with a hint of exasperation, expecting the answer deep in his heart. Still, one didn't get this far without just a hint of optimism.

“I-I think it would take a miracle for anything to survive this place.”

“Hellfire’s gotta be fucking with us.” Alexis draws out, running a hand across his face as he groans. "Givin' us this damn mission as our prelim rank up. I swear, I'll ring Micah's neck myself."

"M-Maybe don't threaten the man who can k-kill us with a thought." Jessica squeaks, her already nervous disposition exacerbated by Alexis' threat.

"Calm down. He can't hear us out here." Alexis chastises playfully, a rueful smile spreading across his bearded face. "Knew a guy who knew a guy who saw Micah fight once. The guy doesn't have super hearing."

"It's j-just a risk I'd rather not take." Jessica murmurs, her hands twitching around her bow.

Alexis just rolls his eyes, pulling his shirt down to spit on the floor that Hellfire made him walk on. That action turns against him, however, as a lungful of smog shoots into his body. It's heavy like cigarette smoke, its mere presence in his body causing a revolting shiver to run up his spine. The taste was worse, like pennies shoved into spoiled meat, a strong aftertaste of ash settling on his tongue. He coughs violently, nearly doubling over, dry heaves clawing their way from his throat.

A tap comes into contact with Alexis’ right shoulder, digging into his flesh. It would've been painful a decade ago; though, he's long since passed the point of small things like that harming him. He turns his head, his eyebrow cocking high as a hand suddenly extends, a gas mask firmly gripped within. The young man holding said mask looks him in the eye with exasperation laced concern, shoving the gas mask into his cheek.

“Take it, man. You’re being noble when you’re the last person who should be," Says the young man, his voice belying his worry as he looks at Alexis’ weathered face. “Especially with your shot lungs-.”

Alexis suddenly bursts out into a fit of boisterous laughter, enough to shake Ean to the bone as the larger man begins pushing the mask back to the young man, a small smirk on his face as he pats his chest. “I'm fine, Ean. Lungs’ll be the last thing that kills me. You worry about yourself, and I’ll worry about me.”

“You’re gonna get yourself killed.” Ean mutters under his breath; though, he relents as he quickly places the gas mask back on his face, his coughing slowly coming to an end. He reaches to run a hair through his raven hair, trying to calm his nerves. They'd been walking for longer than he cared for, his legs bemoaning the long paces he had to take to keep up with Alexis. They had just gotten here a few hours ago with one sole purpose– find someone alive in this place. That doesn't mean anyone was alive, per se, that just meant they have to survive a whole damn week in demon infested territory without a way to hurt them.

His heavy thinking is interrupted as a loud clap rings out, a sting of pain erupting through Ean's back. He stumbles, caught off guard by the sudden attack, his hands shooting forward to stabilize himself.

The suspect of the “attack” quickly snakes their arms behind their back, whistling as they try to suppress the wry smile growing across their covered face. They turn their head to the left as a melodic whistle pierces the boot crunching silence, a tune any Hellfire member has heard. Ean slowly turns around, a tight smile spreading across his face as he stares into the culprits faux look of innocence, his stride turned backward to keep step with his team.

“Something funny?” He inquires, his eyebrow twitching.

“Nope.” She responds, the corners of her lips quivering up violently.

“Oh really?” He says, looking to the arm snaked behind her back.

“Mhm.” She nods quickly, pushing her arm just a bit further behind herself.

“You’re going with that?” He inquires

“Yup!” She nods again, her voice cracking as she suppresses a laugh that threatens to peel from her mouth.

“You’re a jerk, Olivia.”

Olivia can’t help but let a glowing smile spread across her face, a chuckle of pure, melodic mirth escape her lips. She turns a shining eye to him, her arms raising in front of her in a placating gesture, the chuckles still peeling from her lips as she speaks.

“Sorry, sorry! It was right there, though!” She laughs as a teasing lilt drips into her voice, her fingers curling up to resemble claws, “I mean… What if I was an evil demon?”

Ean scoffs, his own arms crossing as he speaks, “If you were a demon, I’d be dead and it’d be your fault for being a bad watch.”

“What about Jessica and Alexis?!” Olivia inquires, her tone full of accusation. Not an unwarranted accusation, but accusation nonetheless.

“They aren't asking me stupid questions instead of keeping watch.” Ean shoots back, a hint of teasing entering his own voice.

“Wow. Playing favorites? That cuts deep, Ean. That cuts deep.” Olivia jabs, rolling her eyes with a smirk. Her eyes turn back to the city, her face regaining its air of focus, her flashlight flickering in the dark.

Ean smirks as he turns on his heel, gravel crunching beneath his boot due to the bit of extra pizazz he put into the turn. In this verbal jousting match, he had come out on top in his mind. It's a game they play, seeing how they can spin an argument in their favor in their verbal tug of war. Not like they have much else to do on the long journeys there.

Somehow, this combination of people clawed their way to this… Right at the edge of initiation into the Hellfire Initiative. He had fought long and hard for the chance to get here, abandoning his home and stable life for the smallest chance of fame and fortune. He didn't hate his old life, this new life just called to him, and he was far from the first. Thousands of people flocked to it every day, whether that be for protection, attention, or the simple human desire to make a difference. As soon as he pushes through this final hurdle, all four of them would join the Hellfire Initiative, gaining a treasure beyond compare: a Synth Weapon.

Ean looks down, digging in his left pant pocket. His hand grips onto something metal, digging out a mechanical pocket watch. He flips it open, his eyes locking on the small, brown monitor with its bold, black letters.

12:26 AM.

He looks up to the smoggy sky, his eyes widening just a smidge. He couldn't even tell. He yawns, stretching his arms as far as his joints would allow. They’ve been searching all day– still nothing. He hopes, at least, they can find a building in here that has a few clean beds; though, he’s not getting his hopes up. With how this place is? He'd be lucky to get a single wink of sleep.

“Tired-.” Ean mumbles to himself before he has to stop, a light penetrating his closed lids. He turns his head away, his face knitting up in pain. It's like the sun shining right in his face on the brightest of days. But that can't be right, the sun isn’t visible out here, even during peak afternoon hours, let alone the middle of the night. He stumbles a bit, his hand coming up the shield the light.

Thump…

Ean comes to a halt as he bumps into Alexis’ back. He stumbles for a moment, throwing his arms out to avoid falling.

“What the hell are you doing, man?” Ean growls through the pain as he tries his hardest to regain control of his vision. His eyes begin to flutter open, still having to squint to make anything out. If this was Olivia flashing that dumb light in his face again, he'd-.

A myriad of insults die on his tongue as he looks at Alexis, an expression he rarely sees on the older man's face evident, one that activates his own fight or flight. Genuine fear.

Ean slowly looks around to Olivia, then to Jessica. Both of them are standing completely still, looking up to the blinding light with a mix of fear and wrapped attention. They weren't moving an inch, their mouths moving with empty words.. Ean turns his head to the light, his mind screaming to do anything else, but his body wasn't listening. The light shines ever brighter, the horrid visage of whatever this creature was getting closer and closer. This was no sun, and it was no moon, it was something far worse.

A Demon.

It towers over them, larger than the towers that spire beside it, its lights piercing the smog like a corrupted star. Its skin is made of some sort of chitinous material, a red hue that gives it the appearance of old brick, dull in it's illumination. Thousands of small eye stalks flit around its body, that ethereal light shining from higher up than any of them can see. Beneath it lay four long, silvery legs that dig into the floor, rending the ground apart as it moves, creating thin, long divots in the floor.

Ean hears the scraping of its legs approaching, panic blossoming in his chest. Close, closer, and closer it comes, an arbiter of death, a sign of their encroaching demise. Ean's mind runs a million miles per minute. Was this the end, in some abandoned city where his body would rot, never to be seen again? His teammates aren't moving, entranced by the light and their own fear, and he finds himself called by the bright light as well. He slowly closes his eyes, a whimper escaping his lips as he gives himself over to it. Everyone’s life comes to an end, quicker in the Initiative. He just wishes he could live a bit longer, long enough to see him and his friends become a team.

How he wishes that dream could be reality.