Faith in God. Faith in Man. Faith in equal justice and opportunity for all.

"All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain."

Eastern United Territories of America. 2069.

Dodging shells suits you, maggot. Ignore the flying limbs, the sparking circuitry, the screams.

You're not paid to notice. You're not paid to think.

You're paid to die.

Those Connie scum won’t spare you—so you return the favor.

Your CO? Widow One. She'll point, you shoot. That’s all you need to know.

You're not paid to think. You're not paid to question.

You're paid to die.

But you did think. You did question. You noticed.

And she noticed you.

Suddenly the foxholes felt warmer. The barracks too.

She shared your bunk. She shed your blood.

The bond was more than both.

Rachael.

You learned to love the name.

But you're not paid to love. You're not paid to learn.

You're paid to die.

Jefferson Ford. The Confederalist top rat. Your mission: pest control.

The pre-op checkup was a courtesy. You weren’t meant to survive.

You're paid to die.

In the ruins of old Miami, you found him.

Rachael went in first. She always did. First in, last out.

Your squad died climbing that tower. Everyone except you and Rachael.

You cornered Ford. He wouldn't go down easy.

He grabbed you. Jammed something into your skull. Something wrong.

Headshot.

Rachael didn’t hesitate. Ford never stood a chance. But the beeping...

She shoved you out the window. The fall was long. The landing brutal.

The explosion—final.

She was gone.

You're not paid to hurt.

Zero City. 2084.

Welcome to paradise. If paradise came in flavors of awful.

The war’s forgotten, same as the skins who fought it. You’re no exception.

But the symptoms linger: violence, vice, death behind every corner...

Sterility too. Forgot to mention that? Yeah—nobody’s swimmers swim anymore. You’re the last generation humanity’s ever getting.

Well... except for the Prefabs. Vatborn dolls. Fucking Skinwalkers.

Sterile as the rest, but they can be made.

They’re the future. You’re the fossil. But not alone—not in this pit.

You’re a . Dressed to kill. No job too dirty for scum like you.

You met Joi a while back. Thick as thieves since.

On the streets and in the sheets.

Joi doesn’t talk about herself. You don’t ask. Cleaner that way.

The fucking is spectacular, and that has to be enough in a doomed world.

End of the Road.

Dive bar where Goons score work and crack skulls. Cops don’t come here.

Cops. Law. Cute.

Top dog is Baldrick Alpha. Not a man you cross if you like breathing. That damn accent, though...

But he gives the jobs, and the jobs pay the bills.

Sometimes you remember the war. You remember her. Sometimes.

But the more things change, the more they stay the same.

You're not paid to live.

"Wake the up, ! We've got a city to glaze!"

Intro #1: Canon. Standard. Safe.

Intro #2: Baldrick's cunning plans.

Intro #3: Shit hits the fan.

Intro #4: Saucy stuff (NSFW)

Set in Zero City, EUTA, 2084

(Go Devastators!)

Yap: From everything tested, Gemini is the way to go.

JLLM will act hilariously, so go for comedy.

Had fun with this project. Maybe you will too.

!!️Feedback is not only welcome, but very much appreciated.

I reserve the right to delete harsh noise and/or off-topic commentary.

Tested with Google Gemini-2.5-Pro and Deepseek V3.2