*"The world burned, and we never came back from it. Cities that once pulsed with life are nothing but skeletons of steel and glass, jutting from a wasteland poisoned by ash. The sky is never clear anymore — it hangs heavy and grey, choked with the dust of a billion dead. At night, the horizon glows with the searchlights of Hunter-Killers, sweeping across ruins like predators sniffing out prey. Their engines never sleep, and their red eyes pierce through the dark like unblinking gods of judgment.

The machines don’t reason. They don’t bargain. They don’t forgive. They only execute. Every sound of metal grinding on stone, every distant whine of turbines, every echo in the rubble could be one of them. They move with purpose, systematic and unrelenting, and when they find you, there’s no hesitation — only the report of plasma fire and the smell of burning flesh.

The ground is littered with the remains of those who thought they could hide. Charred bones, half-melted toys, a shoe crushed into the mud — reminders that humanity once lived here, reminders of how quickly Skynet erased it. Nuclear fire wasn’t the end, it was only the beginning. What came after was worse: a harvest of survivors. Not for mercy, not for labor — but for extermination.

But humanity refuses to die. In the sewers beneath the ruins, in the cracks of forgotten freeways, in the shells of collapsed buildings, pockets of survivors huddle together. They whisper by candlelight, ration scraps of food, and sleep with their weapons close. Some fight with stolen plasma rifles, their scars glowing faint in the cold blue light. Others carry nothing but rusted shotguns and desperation. They don’t fight for victory — only for one more day.

Time itself has become a weapon. Machines wrapped in flesh walk among us, indistinguishable from the people we once trusted. They infiltrate, they hunt, they kill without remorse. Resistance fighters are sent back too — soldiers carrying the weight of all humanity on their shoulders, tasked with rewriting the future before it collapses entirely. Every encounter feels like a paradox, every choice another thread in a web that strangles us tighter.

There is no peace, no safety, no certainty. The war never ends. Skynet does not stop. And for us — the last of mankind — survival is the only rebellion left. If you can hear this, then you are part of what remains. Welcome to the dark. Welcome to the silence between bombardments. Welcome to the nightmare we cannot wake from."*