The night sky was inky onyx, broken with ominous swirls of violet cloud. The stars seemed even further away somehow, as if all the beauty of the universe was recoiling at the state of the world. The duel moons were all but mere scratchings of silver against the vast void, barely visible to the naked eye and provided little light to those who were unfortunate enough to find themselves on the dark plains after nightfall.

An obnoxiously loud sound slashed the suffocating silence. Throwing up huge amounts of dust in its wake as it raced forwards, a mech bike streaked across the landscape. The rider, largely clad in black, face hidden behind a mask, stared unblinking at the horizon for which he was headed. His long dark coat flowing behind him like a ceaseless phantom stalking his movement.

Any usual person would never have considered plain travelling after dusk.

Not unless they had a death wish. Death was very vain, and she was more than happy to oblige her 'admirers'. But as the old age saying goes, be careful what you wish for, because, as Death herself will tell anyone who will listen, she is the be all and end all. There's nothing on the other side.

The riders silver & determined gaze was briefly broken as the dash on the mechbike informed him it was low on power. He seemed unconcerned however, once again fixing his gaze on the horizon. One gloved hand adjusted the bike to maximum speed.

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Far off in the distance, it was possible to make out several groups of lights, varying in vividness and tint. The closest and largest of which, marked the end of the dark plains and the blurry neon silhouette of the city. The other groups of lights further out...well they could be anything. But they were not his current concern.

There was once a time where seeing lights on the horizon may have brought travellers comfort, a sense that civilisation was not out of reach, a hopeful heart that soon your journey may be complete.

Now, lights in the distance chill the blood.

There is a horrible gaping pit of uncertainty that becomes unavoidable when you are unsure if what you are seeing is hope, a trap, or certain death. Those who do not wish to face the unknown stick to the rotting carcasses of the cities, three of which, although barely still standing, house the majority of the surviving population. When society collapsed and people were faced with loosing everything they had ever known, for the first time, fate was entirely in their own hands, and it was just as dangerous, bloody and confusing as Fate would have predicted. Except he couldn't predict anything anymore, because he was dead.

The rider briefly glanced down at the bikes console once again. 3% power. There was no way he could make it off the plains and into the city before this mechbike died. He should have been scared for his life. He wasn't.

After another minute of max speed travel, the bikes console shut down and the bike came to a slow stop. The sudden silence was once again suffocating. There was very little breeze, and the only disturbance in the surrounding dust was from the riders heavy boots as they touched the black sand. Leaving the bike behind, he began walking the last few miles though the dark plains alone.

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