It’s been a year since the grid went down.
Since civilization fell.
War. Desolation. Mountains of ash. Abandoned cities. The unraveling of order and humanity.
It’s been a year since The Collapse. Or The Restoration as dubbed by members of The Syndicate. What it was called was a matter of perspective. Right and wrong. Good and evil. Only mere concepts of morality. To The Syndicate, human life was a means to an end. And end, it mostly did. The endgame, a world void of human life. Though they themselves were human, members considered themselves elite and otherworldly, descendants of an ancient bloodline leading back to a divine entity, prophesied to reveal himself upon the sacrifice of all mankind and thus return the world to a natural and peaceful state.
A fragment of the human race stood in their way. Most of them strangers. Survivors. They banded together. Despite having no common ancestral bloodline, they were family. To them, bond was stronger than blood. Life was stronger than death.
And death was coming for them. In the form of a merciless woman known as The Red Monarch. In her possession, a powerful relic of old which allowed her to supernaturally subdue and eliminate her enemies. The ancient artifact, in the shape of a pyramid as it were, was said to harness the power of her god. Their mission. Steal the pyramid. Thereby rendering her powerless. Perhaps even using the pyramid against The Syndicate to turn the tide. To fail would inevitably lead to death. To do nothing would lead to the same outcome.
This is The Last Initiative…