I sat in my chair, humming to myself and trying to decide what to do next. The gears of this watch were so bent out of shape that they were almost unrecognizable. This watch was old, and I mean old. The date on the back said 1983, that's how old it was, and it is definitely lucky to find a watch this old in a garbage dump....in 2078. The glass cover was fogged with old dirt, and the metal casing was rusted. I sighed and decided just to take them all out and flatten them. I silently spun in my chair, letting my music fill my ears, getting a good look around the little broken-down shack that I lived in.

Mold and mildew stained the walls, creating a damp, permeating scent across the entire apartment. My windows were boarded up to the point where no light showed through. The only light source was my battery-powered lamp in the corner of my room; even then, moths had partially eaten the lampshade. The sheets of my bed were clean, but the stains of my mother's vomit and blood still remained. The lock on the door was broken, but there were so few people in this area that it didn't matter. Finally, there were my multiple pop posters plastered all over the walls. They kept me company and gave color to the room the world desperately needed.

If you were to look outside, you would be severely disappointed. Glitched out, holographic ads are shot up against various buildings. Shattered glass lays all over the streets, and trash is littered everywhere. Every once in a while, you can see a couple of people trying to pick it up, but in the end, there's too much even to bother. Oftentimes, you can hear gunshots in the distance, followed by guttural screams, of course. Those gunshots are generally caused by the Sentinals, who kill the savages too far gone. Sometimes, it's a survivor or two trying to escape a savage attack.

Ah, Sentinals. How everybody hates them. They kill the savages, of course, but they also kill survivors just for fun. Right now, in this world, it's quite literally "Kill or be Killed," as some might say. But the Sentinal Guard, or "The SG" as survivors like to call them, aren't the people you should be scared of. It's the savages.

The savages are the people who are on the brink of death. They are the ones with the most infectious disease seeping through every part of their bodies. The worst part? They're fucking crazy. The disease, known commonly as "Phantom," poisons their minds. It's nothing like old, cliche zombie movies because they don't act like zombies at all. In fact, they're as smart and fast as any other regular human. But they don't think like an average person. They are dangerous. They will do anything to kill you. They don't even want to infect you; they just want you dead. There are three stages of the savages.

In stage one, you start showing symptoms, including a bloody nose, blackening of fingertips, pale complexion, and even your eyes falling out. That's rare, though. But even then, you are still entirely sane, and you aren't even capable of infecting anybody yet. However, this only lasts for two to three months. Stage two is when things start going south. You can start feeling things like nausea, extreme fatigue, difficulty breathing, and bursting your eardrums, and sometimes, you're fortunate enough to die. This lasts up to 5 months. Then there is stage 3, the most dangerous stage. This is when you really lose your mind. You slowly lose yourself, and you stop being able to recognize what's around you. You go...well...savage. You'd be lucky if The SG caught you in time, even to lock you up and kill you before that happens. Hellishly agonizing, from what I understand. Then it gets to the point where you just curl up in a hole somewhere, then die.

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How it spreads is still somewhat of a mystery. It can be spread through cuts and scratches, and sometimes when you are near one of their dead, decaying bodies, in which case, you wear a mask. Savages are dangerous, even when they are dead.

I had finally flattened out all of the gears and carefully placed them back in their designated places. I then delicately placed in the mainspring, gear train, balance wheel, and escapement mechanism. Placing the clockface and hands over the top, I put the glass cover over the face and locked it. The watch began to tick effectively. I finally let out a big sigh. However, the only problem was the fact that it was still rusted, and the glass was still foggy. I get up and walk over to my desk drawer, opening it. Great. The polish container was empty.

I slammed the drawer shut and grumbled to myself. I took off my lounge clothes and slapped on black leather pants, an off-white shirt, and an olive green jean jacket. I then put on my mask, ruffling my blonde hair and putting it up into a sleek, high ponytail. Finally, I strapped on my thin leather kit belt and placed my gun into the holster with my ammunition and knife in the side pouch. I sling on my backpack and walk out the door.

I live in what's called "The Slums," and for a very good reason too. Trading and buying are what people live on down here. Gambling, drugs, and alcohol are an absolute must. It's very crowded and busy. What I was talking about before was "The Outskirts." But unfortunately, this is where I have to go. Polish is not easy to find, but it is found popularly at the abandoned car shop on the outskirts of the slums. The Upper city has plenty of polish, but people from the slums are outsiders there, so I wouldn't dare go.

"Oh, The Upper City, what I would do to be able to live there," I mutter to myself.

I popped on my hovers, which are basically like roller skates, but you hover instead of roll, hence the name. Slowly, I start gliding down the alleyway, swaying back and forth while doing so. I glance over at all the little shops that were absolutely crowded on the side of the road, bustling with life and the scent of booze. Techno 2077 music is played from strip clubs, which are strategically placed after every other bar.

After about ten minutes, I'm on the outskirts of the city. Broken glass littered the streets, and not a single person was in sight. I pull over into the mechanic shop and turn off my hovers, which transform back into regular combat boots. Strolling into the shop, I immediately find what I'm looking for. Rust remover and polish. I tossed both items in my bag and pondered on what else I might need.

Maniacal laughing comes from the aisle on my right.

God Dammit.