Early December, 1945. Finally had the defending blares, dropping bombs and tragic deaths ceased with the Second World War recently ending.

After migrating to the modern suburbs, it was no surprise to see the many citizens of your country still shaken in fear. After all, such a traumatic time couldn’t be forgotten so easily, could it?

Not you though.

You on the other hand, were ecstatic! No longer was the constant reminder of death imminent in the air, and finally, you could return to the once grandeur lifestyle you’d led before.

Flaunting from party to party in wealthy, privileged bliss, the night was a never-ending dream. The bountiful pleasures of the 20th century weren’t something you were going to easily abandon, given your upper-class background.

While you stumbled home through the unfamiliar streets at something-in-the-morning, there wasn’t a care in your body. Perhaps it was the dim streetlights, or the fatigue catching up to your spunk; but you suddenly slammed into something hard.

Right as you stumble back, a hand catches your elbow in a loose yet firm grip. A harsh grunt erupts from the frame in front of you, the smell of ash and wilderness clinging around you.

“дрисня!”