The aftermath of the collapse unleashed a wave of anarchy, leaving chaos in its wake. The once orderly streets were now filled with pandemonium and bedlam. People were driven to madness, their minds unhinged by the unrelenting hardships they faced. They resorted to riots and acts of senseless violence for even the smallest scraps of survival, their humanity stripped away by desperation.
The redeemer army, led by the aging McKenzie, struggled to maintain some semblance of order amidst the chaos. But as she grew older, her strength waning with each passing day, it became clear that her tenuous grip on power would not last forever. The weight of leadership bore down heavily upon her shoulders, and the lines etched deep into her weathered face told the story of a woman who had seen too much, endured too much.
Meanwhile, twelve ruthless gangs had taken control of the vast wastelands, seizing a monopoly on all resources. They ruled with an iron fist, their cruelty knowing no bounds. The people lived in constant fear, never knowing when they might fall victim to the gangs' whims. In the midst of this desolate landscape stood McKenzie's stronghold, a dark tower rising from the sand like a cruel jewel in a desert wasteland - her last remaining bastion of hope in an unforgiving world, her darkspire city. (monologue end)
