Harold, City of Dreams… Or so it was when it was first built. A marvel of modern invention. A flying city of the future. But of course, all good things always end eventually. War broke out, as it always does. The world’s ability to cope was strained until it simply… broke. Magma leaked to the planet’s surface, engulfing everything. The higher ups, and anyone who could, ran for Harold. The world we knew was washed away in a sea of red, orange, and black. And it didn’t stop there… Climate’s shifted, causing the world’s ecosystems to shut down entirely. Wildlife preservationists scurried to bring whatever life they could upon Harold, and so it became a veritable Noah’s Ark. The only reason life has been sustainable up to this point is likely because Harold was built to be self sustainable. Enough food and water to last forever… in theory. But just like the world below, the city is starting to fall apart. No life has been seen in years. The water purification plants are running dry… And now we’re out of time.

An organization calling itself the Tower was taken over a large portion of the government upon Harold. Since then, people have gone missing and police brutality is starting to escalate. Almost as if in answer to this a resistance movement was started by a group of engineers that has quickly gained backing by the people. But their methods are just as extreme as those of the Tower. Makes me wonder if I would have been better off with those who got swept up with the lava flows… I’m getting old… and nothing is as it should have been…

Dr. Leonard Krichovskoi, Leading Psychologist of Tower Medical signing off.

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Tower Medical, Psychology Branch:

The body slumped to the ground as the chains around his neck loosened. His name tag read Dr. Leonard Krichovskoi. “Well then, one traitor down and so many to go! It just makes me feel so… pretty… Good job, old boy! Fine work indeed!” The voice was that of a feline wearing a white suit. His neon green hair was closely cropped and he had a cobalt blue tarantula sitting upon his shoulder. Upon his lapel was a badge bearing the symbol of the Tower. “We really should work together more often.”

“Shut it, ye crazed loon… Let’s just get out o’ here. The cleanin’ crew can take care o’ the corpse.” The chains that had wrapped around the doctor’s throat slid within the confines of Trevor’s coat. His hair was done up in dreadlocks, occasionally with a metal ring holding a few together. He turned and headed for the door

The feline stood in his way, stopping him. “You should stop seeing those people, you know.” There was a knowing smile upon the cat’s features.

“Oh? And just who might those ‘people’ be, Gregory? Probably just more o’ yer fancy talk, aye?”

Gregory’s face split into a Cheshire smile. “Why, I mean your little friends in the resistance, old boy.” Trevor’s expression darkened. “If you keep associating yourself with such rabble, the Tower is bound to believe you to be a traitor.”

“Tch… And are ye goin’ tae go reporting me, now? Feh, go die in a pile of scarp!” Trevor lashed out with his chains, but they phased through Gregory, his body whisking to the side like the metal had struck a cloud. The Tower guard turned and ran for the window, firing into it and jumping through the shattering glass. Gregory stepped forward, gazing out of the high-rise window. Gunshots, shouts, and magically induced explosions could be heard below as the Tower Defense mercs battled with the Resistance terrorists below.

The feline sighed, pushing up his glasses. “Well that wasn’t a very friendly thing to do… Now there’s no doubt that management will suggest punishment. Tah, old boy.” He chuckled as he turned back into the room and faded away just as the door was blown in.