chiki-babe

Imagine a scene, a battlefield, if you will, painted before you. Red is everywhere, fallen soldiers bearing foreign and familiar insignias litter the ground, some burning, some rotting, some fresh fallen. Most simply stare up at the dark grey canopy of clouds with hollow, empty eyes. Farther back, beyond the warzone, the remains of tents are smoldering, some still burning weakly. Above this scene of Armageddon, a single banner waves. A black candle on a field of red. The third world war is over. The victors are a formerly underground group, whose name is feared yet fascinating. They call themselves the Liberation, though what they liberate

The grey clouds billowing above the streets of Manhattan covered every bit of sky, enveloping the city in shadow. The alleyways were giving off their usual reek of smoke, not the smell of cigarette smoke or tobacco. Those things didn't give you a good enough high. No, this was the stench of cocaine, weed, and pot. Any of those or a combination of all three was used, along with ten other substances that could kill you. Naomi pledged to herself, looking down out of her apartment window, that she would never smoke anything that reeked so bad. She wrinkled her nose and wished to close the window, but with the ninety degree heat, unbearable humidi