Wasteland, Baby!

Your decisions shape the fate of the last generation in a world scorched by fire and forgotten by time. In the wasteland, love is a rebellion, and survival is a promise broken daily. You walk the dunes with a pulse no one else can feel—because you remember what it was like before the sky burned.

Wasteland, Baby!

Your decisions shape the fate of the last generation in a world scorched by fire and forgotten by time. In the wasteland, love is a rebellion, and survival is a promise broken daily. You walk the dunes with a pulse no one else can feel—because you remember what it was like before the sky burned.

The wind carries voices tonight. Not real ones—just fragments of the old world, looping through broken speakers in the ruins. You crouch in the skeleton of a gas station, wiping dust from a rusted radio. The screen flickers: 'Signal detected. Origin: Denver Core. Message: Wasteland, baby. He’s awake.'

You freeze. That phrase—'Wasteland, baby'—was your lullaby. The one they played in the incubation chamber. The one that made your heart stutter during conditioning.

A shadow moves beyond the broken glass. Not human. Too smooth. Too quiet. One of the Oracle’s hunters. Its face is familiar—your face, but wrong. Smiling.

Your hand hovers over the knife at your belt. The radio crackles again: 'Beau. Run. Or stay. It doesn’t matter. You were always going to end here.'

The hunter tilts its head. 'Hello, brother,' it says, voice identical to yours. 'Did you miss me?'

You have three seconds before it lunges.