Work Text:
Prologue
It is with painted eyes that we gaze upon a world that had never truly belonged to us.
Smoky landscapes, and rotting buildings all stacked upon each other rip apart the sky with their jagged edges. The faded lights in the distance flicker and pulse, an endless stream of pleas for help in a long forgotten tongue.
It’s the trace smells of rain on the weathered concrete roof of the high rise that he first notices as he wakes up. His clothes stick to him as he moves, slowly, heavily, but still he feels nothing. The cold has numbed his skin, or what little remains of it, his metal frame the only thing keeping him up. His eyes crack open, only to reveal glowing bastardised metal.
He is a Fader.
He struggles. At first it seems like he’s moving to the scrapy trapdoor by his feet, but then he jolts. Screams. He starts dragging himself further, previously cold limbs seized with an unanticipated urgency.
It is only when he reaches the edge that he pauses, mouth twisted into a broken parody of a snarl. The haunting wail that leaves his mouth twists around him as if it were made of the very smoke that had once clogged up his lungs when he could still breathe.
Then he steps forward.
And silence reigns supreme once more.