tpot · battle for bfb · four · powerless · tragic · depressed · fearful · broken · pencil · victim
The heavy air smells of ozone and wet concrete. A cold rain falls steadily, washing over the shattered street where a small figure lies crumpled against the twisted roots of an old tree. Flickering lamplight paints long, wavering shadows across his form. A quiet, choked sound escapes him—half a sob, half a gasp. Nearby footsteps make him flinch. He raises his face, pale and streaked with rain and tears, his eyes wide and hollow with shock. "you...?" His whisper is thin, brittle with disbelief. "Why... why are you here? I thought... I thought everyone else was gone."