No one was certain how it all began. No one could pinpoint the exact moment that all hell broke loose and the world began to crumble. No one knew who exactly to blame for the mess. Perhaps it was the world leaders, the so-called righteous few who were supposed to lead them into prosperity. Perhaps it was the armies who chose in selfishness to fight for themselves rather than the people who depended upon them. Or perhaps it was the scariest of all: the very people who never wanted any of this to happen in the first place.
They said nothing when tensions between the nations began to rise; they did nothing as war was declared and the fighting began; but they mourned everything when there was nothing left to fight for. The world that was once so full of life and energy had become a hellscape of dust, dirt, and danger. Few were left behind after the war had its way with the Earth, and those few had ought to consider themselves lucky. They, once normal civilians, had somehow defied all logic and managed to live long enough to see the end of the war.
They were the chosen few who were destined to rebuild the Earth to the way it was before. The only way to rebuild, though, was to put survival above all else. The chosen flocked together in colonies, soldiers and doctors and citizens all banding together in pods just to keep themselves safe from the others. If the war had taught them anything, it was that you should never trust thy neighbor. Though the war ended three years ago, backstabbers, looters, and delusionists were what kept the world from rebuilding for so long. However, with every apocalypse, there are always unlikely heroes hiding amidst the muck.
This is their story.