In a realm of infinite worlds, there are constants and variables. Constants always appear, no matter where, no matter when. Even in the most unlikely of cases, they prevail.
For instance, there is always a lighthouse.
A lighthouse on a cliff overlooking the sea. The clatter of gunfire in the distance, and the droning of aircraft. The sound of a rocket launcher firing, a trail of smoke, and an explosion. A voice yells, "Gunship by the lighthouse!"
There is always a man.
A orange glow enveloping a chair, raising it off the ground, and slamming it into black-suited soldiers. A crowbar, smashing into what could only be described as a zombie. A medical kit pushed into a metal-gloved hand, accompanied by "Freeman, patch yourself up!"
And there is always, always, a city.
Cops in ghoulish white masks, beating innocent civilians at random. Blockades set around streets, war beasts parading the streets. A blue spire rises into the clouds.
"Welcome. Welcome, to City 17."