Prologue: The sky is lined red as though with blood and the land is a murky gray, not unlike a wasteland during a foggy day. All around abandoned buildings with cracked and broken windows litter the landscape, making the city look like a death valley. This isn't too farfetched, with all of the death and decay left in the streets from the many quotidian skirmishes between people just trying to survive. Among the dank dust and dirt live the many outcasts of the postwar era, just trying to survive now that World War 3 had ended. Many thought that with the war over with everything would be like before, when freedoms were bestowed on all humans. Back into an era of thought and reason, that's where many people thought the end, would take them. They sure were wrong.

When the Star Life X.0 Alliance was created many believed it would bring back peace and harmony, replacing the chaos and death that devastated the world. It did not, at least not to the millions of outcasts who were left, forsaken, in the ruins of many cities destroyed by bombs and missiles. For them the alliance brought more despair and anguish than the war, their world was now one of mayhem and murder, with everyone just trying to survive. While the high class of "normal" people lived in antebellum times, the outcasts had to fend for themselves, leaving them no room for recreation. Even the children had to fight, for food, for shelter. Many times children would be abandoned to the fury of a world of danger, unable to provide for themselves.

Star Life X.0 thought nothing much of the sending of weirdoes and felons to the outskirts of the New Civilization. In fact, if there was any thought of the wastelands it was about how to get rid of the outcasts completely. All Star Life X.0 citizens were taught how to loathe those different from standardized views and to report any eccentric behavior of their neighbors. Moreover, whenever there was a convicted report on a citizen they were sent to the wastelands AKA Death's Ghettos, where many died within a week unless they had relatives in the Death's Ghetto they were sent to. However, there is on Ghetto that no one would want to be sent; it is called Ghetto X.341 or more commonly, Nihilist. It is here that our story begins.


Quietly the azure-eyed youth climbed out of bed, her golden brown hair still dank from rushing home in the rain the night before. Her only set of clothes was filthy and full of holes, mostly from the scrapes and beatings issued her by the older teens. Everyday she fought for the strength to make it through the day at school, if you could call it that. All school consisted of was a bunch of adults of limited knowledge teaching children with even less knowledge. Many youths dropped out before their 14th birthday, mostly to support themselves and families. J-Leigh Greig wasn't much different, though she was 15 and still in school, just so she didn't have to deal with home life; all her parents did was argue, throwing things around and sometimes hitting her. J-Leigh preferred school or anywhere else other than listening to her parents bickering.

After taking some money from her mother's purse, she snuck out, planning to use it to buy lunch; she hadn't eaten for two days. On the way out the door, her mother caught her with the money.

"J-Leigh! Where the Hell do you think you're going with MY money?!" Her mother, Faye, yelled at her; she seldom thought of anyone but herself.

"Well, I need to eat don't I?" J-Leigh retorted, "Bitch."

"WHAT?!" Faye slapped J-Leigh, "You're the ungrateful bitch here, not me. You're the bastard bitch. Don't you steal from me again!" Faye held out her hand waiting for J-Leigh to hand back the stolen money.

Seeing her mother's face full of rage, J-Leigh almost gave in as she always did; however something in her snap. What she said next surprised both of them.

"Go to Hell, Bitch." All her anger seethed with those words, and she ran before Faye could hit her. Down, down the street, she ran opposite the way to school; she needed to find a place to hide for when her father came looking for her. Moreover, she needed a place to think about her outburst. It wasn't like her.

After an hour of running, someone grabbed her from behind, leaving her with no time to react. Roughly, the assaulter pushed her to the ground, taking her money and then hitting her over the head. As powerful as the blow was, it didn't knock her out, she was too use to being hit. All it did was immobilize her for a split second. Quickly she was back on her feet swinging a blow at her assailant. It did no good except gave him a bloody nose. With an inhumane growl, the assailant struck back, with a knife in his hand. His first slice was on J-Leigh's left arm; his second struck her chest, and his final left a three-inch gash on her face that ran from the bridge of her nose down to her right cheek. Blinded by blood, J-Leigh jumped back, falling down as she did so.

"Humph, waste of my time. You better get it straight, kid; you're no match for me." He scoffed, " If you want to survive then you better get in line, because when I gain power your kind will be history. Unless of course you want to join my cause." By his attitude, J-Leigh knew who he must be, the rising dictator McMahan Kenton; A ruthless tyrant planning on taking over the ghettos to suit his own needs. J-Leigh stood silent, maliciously aware of her desire to choke him. All she could do however was lay there and watch him ponder what to do to her. After a short interval of thought, Kenton left oblivious to his victim's wrath. After 5 minutes, J-Leigh got up, looking for a place to wash the blood off her wounds, and to check for any serious bleeding. She didn't want to die from carelessness, as most others did. After washing up, she walked to a quiet alcove, left vacant for the beggars and idlers. It also was a place where the wounded could be treated, though very few knew of the doctors and healers who lived there.

More often than not, she ended there, under the care of an apprentice healer. Usually she was given healing herbs, which surprisingly thrived among the acidic soil. This time though she had to receive more than basic treatment. An apprentice, Jose Myrrh, treated her as well as he could but she still would have scars, even after they completely healed. Thinking about her weakness caused a torrent of rage to rush throughout her body. 'I will kill him,' she vowed, shivering from rage.

Later that night she walked along the lonesome unpaved roads, among the other Nihilist citizens, many of which were drug or weapon dealers. Pass all of them she walked, deeply in thought, thinking of her vow of vengeance. Observantly she stepped up to a charred black booth owned by a weapon dealer.

"Hey, J-Leigh, what happened to you?" The dealer, Jiru Moore, chuckled, apparently knowing what happened. "Looks like you got jumped."

"Um, do you know where he is?" J-Leigh glared scornfully at him; Jiru was known for being a snitch, but only for a decent amount of money.

"Well, since you're an old friend, I won't charge you." Jiru chuckled, "However you have to buy some of my products. If I know you, you will want to buy one anyway." He added, while showcasing his supply of pistols and daggers. "Don't tell anyone where you heard this, Kenton is in the half charred brown house on Main Street. He's having a meeting for organizing his plan to gain power. However he will have his bodyguards all around, so it won't be easy. If you get caught don't tell you heard this from me."

"I won't." J-Leigh took a Colt LP 326 from the selection after paying Jiru, then she stepped away disappearing into the night.