this story is based off of the a text mmorpg game called Dawn 2055, a post-nuclear apocalyptic based text game. many character names and gang names are taken from this game.

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When fire falls, book one. The Phoenix burns.

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Chapter one.

Carter Flayde

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Burning.

Everything burning.

Amidst the flames I can hear her voice.

"DAADDDDYYYYY!"

I try to go to her, but the heat is too intense. I turn and see my wife. She's just close enough that I can reach her. But to do so would be to sacrifice my own daughter. Indecision freezes me, the spell broken only by my wife's hoarse plea...

"Carter...get...Chrystal..."

I turn to go to my daughter, but a resounding CRACK causes me to turn back to my wife.

Just in time for the roof to collapse.

They scream as they are crushed under the weight of the roof.

"I'm sorry." I whisper into the crushing darkness.

And all sense ceases.

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"NOOO !" I yelled as I bolted out of bed, my heart pounding, sweat running down my face. I could still hear the dying cries of my family. I rose from my bed, muscles aching, body drenched in sweat. Outside, it was silent, no birds, no kids playing in the street, just pure silence, broken only by the occassional gun shot. Just another reminder of the hell I now live in. It's been two years since the war turned all of California, and possibly the world, into a nuclear wasteland, and already, people have managed to adjust their lives. every day was a fight for survival. Every day had survivors scrambling for the scant resources. It wasn't uncommon to find a body in an alley, or a bedroom, or even out in the middle of the street, looted for it's valubles, sometimes even buck naked, as clothes, even, were valuable in these tough, dangerous times. very few people lasted long here, even when they had a gang, a group of people, practically family. It wad even harder to survive on your own. Unless, of course, you were like me. I'd been surviving in california ever since this place went nuclear. I never stayed in one spot, I was always on the move. I rarely ever interacted with anybody, accept when I beat the occassional mugger who foolishly tried to attack me. (And yes, I did take the spoils.) My activities gained the attention of the local gang, wasteland mafia, and they tried to rucruit me. I respectfully turned them down, and the next thing I knew, I was on the run, yet again, wanted by another powerful warlord. This was my life. Don't settle. Don't make friends, otherwise it'll just cause trouble.

I went to the sink, and tried the tap, wanting desparately to drown last nights images, as though I could wash them away. As luck would have it, the water was no longer working. No suprise there. I turned, put on a jacket over my bullet proof vest, pick up my 9 milimeter pistol, and walked out the door. I stepped into the street, careful to avoid the pile of crap on the side walk, and headed for the market. I had twenty bottle caps rattling around in my pocket, (who's nut job idea was it, any way, to use bottle caps as money?)and I couldn't wait to sink my teeth into some fresh meat. That, at least, I knew I could look forward to. The market was less crowded than ussual, and I spotted an old aquaintence of my, Billy Ryan, standing in the shadows. Billy was a hard man, with a partial gotee, and thinning hair, he looked like the kind of guy you would see on the street corner, the guy your parents always told you to stay away from. He saw me and motioned for me to come over. I approached him with slight caution. Billy and I weren't enemies, we just weren't friends, either. As I approached, I noticed his left hand was bandaged, blood slowly seeping through. "Get in a fight recently, Billy?" I inquired, keeping a respectful distance. "What'd you do, miss the guys face and hit a wall?" Billy ignored my taunting as he took a swig from the mug in his good hand. He held the mug out, offering me some of what-ever-it-was and I declined.

"Carter," he began in his slight southern drawl. "I'm not going to waste time beating around the bush. How would you like a little extra money?"

"How much money?" I asked him.

"Let's just say more than enough to get Wasteland Mafia off your tail."

Now I was very interested. "What's the job?"

"Last night, three armed men broke into my house and began looting. I came out to stop them, but they got away, taking my daughter with them. I want you to find them. Get my daughter back, kill the bastards who took her. If you get her back alive, the money's yours." A rescue operation. I've been asked a few times in my life to help rescue survivors, weather it was a poor farm kid who just got lost, or some rich pompous bilionaire who's son was abducted for ransom. And I always turned them down. This time was no different.

"Billy, you know I don't do rescue missions."

I looked at him and saw, not the usual fire and determination that was usually in his eyes, but something else. He had the look of a man who had lost something so precious to him that he had decided to just give up all hope.

"Carter, please."

Now this wasnt like Billy. He was a man who never begged for anything, and here he was, begging me to save his daughter.

I sighed. "Why me?"

"Because,"he took another drink. "You're the only one I trust. You can di things other people wouldn't even attempt. You went against the wasteland mafia, for God's sake, and you're still alive. Carter, please."

Suddenly, I wasn't seeing Billy. I saw Crystal, my daughter. Last night's nightmare returned to me in a flash, and I realized there was no way I could say no.

Once again, he offered me his drink. This time, I took it.

"I'm in"

To be continued...

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Please let me know what you think. I appreciate honest, creative criticism.