I stepped out into the ruins of what used to be Time Square. Sadness filled my heart. In school they showed us picture of what it used to look like, but now you would never imagine it used to look like that. Suddenly i was transported back in time.
All of the boards that were now only wire a glow, the horns of taxi’s and cars blaring at each other. The buildings that are barely one story now at their full height, and an endless stream of tourists snapping pictures.
All the people crowded on the sidewalk hurriedly walking to their destinations. The sky such a light blue nothing else could capture that exact color.
Walking down the street was now more dangerous than ever, because of The Fazers.
At a very young age my group was told about The Fazers. The man came to our class and said that they were put here to protect us from the fakes. The workers were always telling us how wonderful the Hunter Cooperation was. But the hybrid of Human and the most powerful machines ever created said otherwise. They lurk in the deepest darkest pits of the underground during the day. At night they scour the streets, and tumbledown buildings for fakes. As in their hair color was not what it was naturally, and sadly I was one.
Fazers even just thinking about them scared me. I wondered what really happened to fakes. Legends passed down many of my friends thought they were jokes. Not me though, it was a dangerous game i was playing, you had to be careful. No one had ever lived to tell you what a Fazer looked like. They were the things that filled children’s nightmares.
Sirens started blaring, they’d found one. I started to panic, what if it was me?! I looked to the sky, the sun had just set. I couldn't hear anyone screaming and begging for their lives though. I forced myself to be calm, walking quietly down the cracked sidewalk. I was freaking out when I heard a familiar laugh from behind me. It was just Samira and her cronies. So naturally I did what any sensible person would do. I turned around and said
“Such a lovely singing voice you have Samira,” she looked disgusted. I waved goodbye to her while smirking. Someone passing on the street giggled, and then a slap rang out. I whirled around my black hair flowing out behind me, cocked one hip with a hand it.
I saw Samira standing over a cowering brunette, “Why don’t I just call a Fazer? She cackled. “You’re useless anyway.” I boiled. I kept my voice cool. “Samira, why don’t you just leave people you consider less important alone?” Because you’re evil, I responded in my mind. “They need to know their lesser than me.” She snickered.
You definitely have the potential to expand this - there's so many questions left unanswered and even if you plan on answering them later, you have the room in this case to expand on at least. Tell us the history behind these Fazers. The readers want to know and without sufficient detail in a literary piece, dullness takes over and nobody will read whatever you have written. Which is really sad! So: