The Fourth (Chapter 1.1)

Humanity had three ages. That can be agreed on by many surviving networks across the now ravaged planet. These networks are possibly the only life on Earth now, communicating through surviving data streams and awaiting the day when the sun will implode and end their technological life.

In the first age humanity developed, adapted, and thrived, creating many things. In the second, a rash of violence. In the third, more growth, and in the fourth, the downfall of humanity. The cataclysm. The slaughter. This is the story of that age.

New York City

Year: 2062

Seventeen Year-Old Alex Dominguez adjusted the straps of his KN95 mask as he mounted the steps out of the subway. Dressed in a red jacket, jeans, and Retro Air Jordan 1's, he stepped from the steps out into the smog filled New York City streets. Pollution was so bad now that you had to wear a mask, or you would eventually choke to death from the smog. It was this way almost all over the world, except in a few places like Australia and Oregon, to name a few. Fear and anxiety were prominent. In 2032 the war in Ukraine had spilled over into Romania, prompting NATO to retaliate by declaring war on Russia and its allies. The threat of nuclear war always lived in the back of every persons mind, no matter where or who they were. Secret Nuclear Bunkers, once shuttered and abandoned, were now active again, preparing for the worst. Alex emerged into the city street, his eyes already stinging. He had forgotten his protective goggles at home. He had been in too much of a hurry to meet some buddies, Adam and Adrian, In their usual meeting place; Second Sun Cafe. Of course they were not there when he walked through the door. He let the door swing shut behind him and took of his mask. Most buildings were now equipped with the latest air filtration tech, allowing people to have their masks off inside of them, as long as there were no open windows or doors. He sat down to wait. His phone vibrated in his pocket, but he paid no mind to it. That was when he noticed everyone in a state of panic. Running out the door, or simply just crouching underneath a table or the counter. Alex stared hard out the window into the street. There was a loud boom, a huge flash of light, and Alex was hurled backwards, along with tables, chairs, and patrons. He slammed into something, and struggled to catch his breath. Then he started to cough violently. He reached into his pocket and put his mask back on and felt his lungs start to recover from the smog he had inhaled. The front windows of the building were completely blown out, and glass, tile, chairs, and tables littered the ground. The whole scene was bathed in the glow of firelight. Groans sounded as people got to their feet, only to burst into coughing fits. Alex scrambled over rubble, his feet slipping and sliding in....well he did not want to think about what he was stepping in. He staggered out of the building and looked up as blood trickled down from his forehead to his chin. High overhead flew military drones, bobbing and weaving as they shelled the city. The sound of gunfire filled the air as police forces retaliated, shooting drones down and sending them spiraling into buildings or crashing to the ground. The distant rumble of explosions signaled the worst was happening. Russia and it's allies were invading New York.