The dust settles on an old building, treading on the ground a man rest's his helmet and looks around at the once magnificent structure. Posters peel off the walls and skeleton bits drift across the room as if carried by ghost's breath. Commuters board a train into oblivion, their frail bodies without skin or mind laying face down on the floor of the train. The mans boot cracks a bone on the ground causing it to splinter into pieces."Now all this place needs is a tumbleweed" he says into the nothingness, causing a few rats to scurry by in fright. He walks over to a skeleton with their arms clasped together as if lovers or in a fierce fight for survival."Didn't do them any good did it now?" he says bitterly, his voice resounding in the dead place. He picks up his helmet shouldering his gun. He goes to look out of the building, a shot grazes past his shoulder. He falls to the ground and clasp's his shoulder in pain and quickly throws on his helmet. Back to work.