Earth died. The world that once was, one of growth, peace, and prosperity, vanished into darkness, and a new "thing" appeared to replace it. This place is no longer a world, it is a madhouse.
The year as of two minutes ago is 2590. It is a new year, and everyone says that things will get better. Yet nothing has changed. The streets are filled with the homeless, the poor, and the forsaken, with their brethren's bodies laid at their feet. Red water runs throughout the cracks in the pavement. Ash shades the sky an ominous grey. The world recently entered its 6th official World War, with the actual total being 9, so far. The enemy is known to all as Zephania, a country built by religion alone over the shattered remains of WUN, and infamous for its attempts to consolidate and expand.
Cities lay in ruins. Not just in the American continents, but all around the world. Since the beginning of the Zephanist expansion, lovingly dubbed "Terror Wave," several major population centers across the map were targeted. Europe, Asia, Australia, the Americas, Africa, and even the Antarctic settlement were subject to a sudden awakening of sleeper cells and underground organizations, all under Zephanist influence.
In response, both the strong and the weak huddled together to combat the fierce new threats, both internal and external. ZION, the Asian Alliances, Disk, and all the others are examples of such. And everyone managed to succeed. Except the Americas. Already weakened from the last global conflict (World War V) and broken into the loose city-states of WUN, most of the area fell quickly to the Zephanist incursion. Only a few small coastal areas staved off the enemy offensive with heavy support from all allied organizations, and several reclamation attempts have begun over the past decades. None have succeeded yet.
Terrified and awed, some ran in panic, for there was nothing left for them in this world. Others stood perfectly still, for their bodies would not move. And others died. Many others. The innocent, the guilty, the soldiers, the civilians, the men, the women, the boys, the girls, and everyone else. The ruins of their lives now engulfed in flames dye the sky red, and the blood of all those sacrificed tint it red.
But they were not the only ones who suffered. They are not the only ones who are suffering. Funds from all vital institutions in the new world were drained in order to sustain and prevent the violence. People lost their houses, their belongings, their livelihoods, and their lives in the sake of global peace.
And yet, some people do not know of this at all and continue to live richly, abusing the luxury and privilage they take for granted. As far as I am aware, I am one of the only girls aware of the actual affects of this war within the school other than some adults. Not like the others. They do not know nor care to know where all their boyfriends went, where there money goes, why the shops closed, and what they really should care about. And I'm not sure if even the 150 that remain do not know of what they will soon be joining! It's...simply unforgivable how they do not act.
Nevertheless, I wouldn't blame them for their ignorance. They pay attention to the celebrities, the latest fads, the newest gear, and the hottest items that are plastered all over the media. The newspapers, magazines, television, radio, the networks, not one of them mentions the atrocities throughout the world. Not at first. Only when they are pushed and shoved and strained does the media speak of the war, and just barely. The lines are threadbare, and the only reporter to have ever ventured an in-depth examination vanished off the radar five years ago. That man was the pioneer in search of a story no one would touch.
In the name of that man, I became a junior reporter in his stead and set out on the road that he walked. I have pushed buttons and pulled strings to find out what exactly happened. Robert Trymal and his scoop would not be lost to the sands of time. Not if I can help it. He is my father, you know.
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