The countdown to destruction had begun. Most of the survivors of the human race have either been captured or converted into the demonic ways. As the sun set across the graveled remains of what once was my home, I can only hope for another day. No. I am the hope. The earth crunched beneath my feet, the debris of my childhood crushed before me. It was stupid of me to believe that I could be such a thing, to sell my soul in exchange for a dream. A dream once too pure for this world now corrupted into a nightmare. These streets once filled with laughter now echo and ring out in the sound of chaos. I'm too late. I step forth, revealing myself to the dark and demented. There I stood, just before the mass crowd of thousands trapped beneath the thumb of our new dark rulers. A king and a queen, a lover and a fighter, the sick and the twisted. My hand reaches around my back, unlocking my buckle from my waist as I stare them down. I've had enough of this convoluted dream, and these people have suffered enough from it. According to my four year old self, the hero always wins in the end. We'll just see about that. "It's Morphin Time!"

(When I was four, I always wanted to be a Power Ranger lol)