Death. Destruction. Decimation.

All are words which represent the third world war. A war so genuinely terrifying that those in their sound minds feel a pit in their stomach at the mere mention. It hurts people to think about what had to be done, what WAS done. This is what they did They know that. No half-assed attempt by any politician is made to shrug off the responsibility put on their shoulders. They. Are. Guilty. And they know it. And they always will.

Revulsion is all the people of the new world feel for the past. Accepting as they are about it they still hate it. What was done trumps any other form of brutality ever enacted. Nature itself has yet to be as callous as those who fought. And yet, they won. There are those who aren't guilty mind you. They fought only for peace and rejected the ideals of those in power. All but a few of the peaceful are now a paste, ground finely enough to be breathed in unknowingly. The perpetrators caught up in a blinding fervour.

90 percent of the world population was involved in either peacekeeping or military efforts. The missing 10 percent died outright. When the war finally died down only 12 percent of the global population were left alive. These existed in 3 different factions. Those of the Order of the Dawn, those under the fractured governments that were left standing, And those who wandered, now known as the Speakers. The government's soon disbanded as all motivation towards military action was completely quashed by the end of the conflict. The Order of the Dawn welcomed them all in. It was in these times people finally had hope once more.

The order of the dawn stayed as a peaceful conglomerate, focused almost entirely on using state of the art equipment to return the earth's biosphere to something liveable. Without more advanced technology these efforts lasted indefinitely as they had to fight off the damage they themselves had caused.

In a short time span, a societal structure was erected. It took a year for the social, legal, and semi-religious government to fully flourish. What had started as an attempt to rebuild society as a flawed but democratic system failed. People tried to escape, protest, or revolt. But it was all for nothing. Stuck inside the artificial biomes with the rest of humanity, fermenting like rotted fruit.

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It has been two years since the biomes of the earth have settled. The Speakers have all but vanished and those still alive have assimilated with the Order of the Dawn's city.

Our story starts here. On a nondescript street corner between Abstruse avenue and Stealthy street. In an abandoned baby carriage propped up against the wall of a vacant office. Underneath a perpetually gray sky. And with a halfway iced infant.