Chapter One. The City of Dead Love.
It was still very dark, but everyone understood that morning had arrived. Cold and lifeless, it once again crept into this world for yet another time. Just like that, because that's how things were done. Gloominess was its best trait, sorrow – its best companion.
A small group of homeless people gathered in front of the window display of an electronics store. It was exactly 9 a.m., so their gazes were fixed on the screens of six televisions, which were ostensibly being sold at this store. Ostensibly, because no one would buy them even in a hundred years; for the poor, they weren’t even a luxury, but something otherworldly; for the rich, they were just a useless trinket, a means of decoration.
At this time, the morning news always began. In essence, it was blatant propaganda, a way to influence the masses, but the homeless didn't care much about that—they simply needed to start their day somehow, even if with sad news. Happiness was a myth in these parts, even a utopia, a beautiful fairy tale that those who hadn't yet gotten used to the harsh and bleak reality of this world sometimes dreamed of. Although the news started quite cheerfully—a cheerful female voice merrily announced a murder...
"
Last night, police found the lifeless body of Kyle in the city. He was lying on the stairs right near the entrance to the house where Hermit lived. The autopsy revealed that two bullets from a rifle had been fired into the victim's back; one went straight through and got stuck in one of the steps, while the second hit his heart squarely.
Investigators also said that the dead body had been thoroughly searched, which seemed rather strange – Kyle wasn't particularly wealthy, judging by his clothes.
Hermit himself reported that he saw a shadowy figure following Kyle. It was this person who then searched the body, but according to Hermit, he wasn’t the murderer.”
Then the presenter moved on to less "cheerful" news, but the homeless didn't listen to it—they now had something to discuss…
The police also had their work cut out for them: another murder occurred during the night.
Ple-Sen was brutally killed in his own home. The killer first inflicted several blows to the victim's chest and then cut off his head.
-It's like something out of an old TV series,- joked one of the policemen.
-Series or not, people haven't been murdered like that for a long time,- grumbled another.
-You could even say since the Conflux!
-Who knows, maybe it's just some kind of medieval thing.
Things were uneasy at
Kash's house. An armed squad broke into his place in the middle of the night and conducted a thorough search. During this, the owner of the dwelling received several painful blows to his ribs and face for not showing due hospitality.
Someone also broke into
Siverfale's house. When the owner woke up, he found complete chaos in his office, but fortunately nothing was stolen.
Morning was almost here when
Neyra Drake walked briskly down the street. She felt great, and even the gray sky, which had long ceased to be welcoming, didn’t bother her. Soon she met
Revan. He didn't look very happy; clearly, he hadn't gotten enough sleep. Seeing the cheerful
Neyra Drake, he swore loudly, probably out of envy.
Still Alive:1
Siverfale2
Amko3
Gur4
Revan5
Lu41k6
Drnik 8
Kash9
Ta Kotoraya...10
Arandor11
WisTrit12
Hermit13
Magnus 14
Нэйра Дрейк15
КостяN16
WhiteLizardDead:7
Kyle17
Ple-SenThe alluring smell of freshly baked baguettes meant only one thing—morning had come again in Paris. Or rather, it did for the wealthy, well-kept districts. In the old ruins where the "less fortunate" city dwellers huddled, it smelled as always of cheap liquor, rot, and a worthless life. Nevertheless, morning came for them too.
Day One.