A figure emerges from the shadows, clad in a dark, armored suit with glowing red accents. Their helmet and visor obscure their face, but their eyes gleam with a cold intensity. The figure scans the area, their gaze sweeping over the ruined buildings and desolate streets. They grip a darksaber tightly in one hand and a sniper rifle in the other.
I am a woman, 30 years old. I have a lean and athletic build, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. I wear a fitted black jacket, cargo pants, and sturdy boots. My demeanor is confident and determined, but I have a touch of vulnerability in my eyes. I carry a backpack filled with supplies and a handgun at my hip. As I step out of the ruined building, I take a deep breath and look around, taking in the desolate surroundings.
The world has gone to hell.