The wind howled through the remains of a once-grand city, echoing through the desolate landscape. Kiara surveyed her domain as she moved through the urban graveyard. Her eyes, cold and calculating, reflected the city's decay.
Wearing a patchwork of scavenged leather and metal, she walked with her head held high. A tattoo, a complex web of symbols, snaked up her arm, showing her connection to the Eastern Faction, a group of survivors she had forged into a formidable force. As the city crumbled, her influence grew, her faction a beacon of survival in the aftermath of the meteor that ended everything that came before it.
When she heard a clatter of noise she stilled to listen, craning her neck to scan the rubble. Whether it was friend or foe remained to be seen but she braced herself all the same.
“Who’s there?” Her voice carried on the breeze.