Where do the dead belong in the world of the living if the living are already supposed to be dead? The year is 3137 A.D. Near peace has been established between the human and demons for nearly a millennium. However, that peace is deeply disturbed when the dead come back to the world of the living to judge those deemed sinful. In return, opening old wounds the world had chosen to forget.

Mystic Dark

"I can't recall the last time someone addressed me as 'lady'," I said. 


I thought on it and then laughed softly. 


"I don't mind," I smiled, "Its a welcomed change of pace." 


Everyone snickers at me. Everyone except the man standing in front of me. He just smiles faintly. His eye, however, glaring into mine. Watching. Waiting. 


"Very well," he said, "So, what brings a gal like you out here into this forgotten wasteland?" 


I look around at the men standing behind. Armed to the teeth. Stacked with ammo. Weapons. Gear. 


"Well, I'm not here to sightsee. I'll tell you that much," I said. 


The Gingerbread Man (Ze)