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[Cryxis, Prince of Doom]

A soft light filters through the shades and into your eyes. You take in a wif of mildew and mold scented air. Your finger tips feel cold and almost numb exposed to the open air. You lay, uncomfortably, on a bed that's sagging to the floor with no spring or support still working.

You open your eyes. "This is not my home", you mutter as you lift yourself out of bed. Your clothes feel damp from the bed, "Shouldn't've slept in this terrible place" you think to yourself.

Your arms raise over your head as a muffled yawn leaves your mouth.

Taking a a moment you observe the room. To your left a broken AC unit sits on the window sill surounded by glass shards from the once window behind it. The shades are the only barrier between the room and the outside.

Behind you is an old and slightly damp bed that has seen better days.

Infront you see your leather bag sitting atop a wooden dresser. Leaning against the left side of the dresser is your bolt action hunting rifle. This weapon has saved you from more than one bad situation.

Seeing the firearm you remember the colt 1911 holstered on your hip, you've worn it so long it's almost become part of you.

To your right is a locked and barred shut door.

You feel it's time to start your day once more. What do you do?

[Trapezohedron]

Exposition.

[Cryxis, Prince of Doom]

Slinging your bag over your shoulders, feeling it's weight bring you down slightly, you think of what brought you here.

You don't know what caused all this to happen, you know that once humanity used to be very advanced, as the building you are in would prove, but you don't know what caused the world to come to a stand still leaving it like it is.

You remember your father always told you,"Now son, I don't know why things are the way they are but you have to make the best of things. You can't let this bitter world drag you down with it". Your father was always telling you things like that. Now he's gone and your here.

Yes that's what it was, your father had passed a month or so ago and you've been running from all those memories of him. He raised you in this hell and taught you all you knew but in the end he couldn't stay forever. He was so excited that you were about to turn 18 soon but he wont be there to see it happen.

Grabbing your rifle you clean the lenses on the scope with your shirt and use the cold iron bolt to load a round into the chamber. It slides beautifully and smooth, your father taught you how to keep your weapons perfect and you've done just that.

Ever since a week ago you've been outside places you once knew. You no longer know what roads you are walking down but you know your headed east, to the city of lights. Your father's last words begged you to find a home, somewhere safe, because he couldn't protect you anymore.

The city of lights is a long journey and you don't know the roads but you know the way to it is east. You know it will be a long and dangerous travel but once you make it you know you'll be safe once and for all.

The board clatters on the floor as you drop it from the door. The metal door knob is as cold as your rifles bolt as you turn it opening the door to a hotel hall. The walls have vines growing down them and the only light is from the windows at the end of the hall.

The building is very quite, not a living soul in sight. You head out to the lobby and exit the hotel.

Opening the entrance doors you finaly take in a fresh breath of air, the smell of smoke and dust perfumates it and cleans your nose of the mildewy stench.

You see several destroyed fast food buildings across the street and some boarded up apartment buildings down the road east. You hear nothing but the breeze flowing through your long matted hair.

What do you do?