The Electric Eagle

Chapter 1 - The Sinking City of Sin

On September 5th, 2043, almost a year into the rainfall, the Shard collapsed. Panes of glass slid into the Thames, crashing up against Tower Bridge. One bystander claimed they saw a group of people who were dining at the Shangri-La plummeting down onto Tooley Street. Another said they saw a naked woman falling onto the pavement, still clutching onto the bathtub she laid in. Borough was buried in a sea of shattered glass and muddy rainwater, a once vibrant hub of culture and food now gone. As London melted into the streets, the results of the general election poured in. Boats branded with eagles and decorated with soggy blue banners filled the city's waterways, celebrating the victory of the Overcast party. "Cleanse our sins", they chanted, as the rainfall glistened around them, reflecting the dim light of the flooded city.

...

That day, Finn sat in his parent's East Dulwich attic, his eyes locked onto the computer screen as he scrolled aimlessly through Reddit. The room was dim, illuminated only by the pale light filtering through the small, rain-streaked window. Outside, the south side of the city shimmered faintly, a ghostly reflection of what it once was. The sight was haunting, like looking at a memory that had long since faded. Buildings, once proud and towering, now crumbled into the flooded streets below, their remnants drifting like grains of salt dissolving in the sea. The London he had known, vibrant and full of life, was gone, swallowed by the relentless rain that had turned everything into a watery grave. Finn's family, unlike most of the city's residents, had chosen to stay behind when the evacuation alerts blared throughout London. They had hunkered down, turning their sinking home into a makeshift fortress against the elements. It was a desperate attempt to hold onto something, anything, in a world that was slipping away. Plastic sheeting lined the floors and walls, trying to stop the water seeping through every crack in the wooden floorboards. The first floor of their Victorian home was entirely submerged, lost to the rain. In the kitchen, pots and pans floated aimlessly across the water's surface, bumping into each other and bobbing amongst the rats that had found refuge there. The once cozy hallway, filled with cherished family photos, was now barren. Vines crept up the walls, reclaimed by the unforgiving force of nature reaching out from the water. The velvet blue sofa in the front room, where Finn's mum had spent countless hours crocheting, now sat covered in moss. The sharp, nauseating stench of sewage filled the air, making each breath a struggle.

As Finn's gaze returned to the screen, he noticed a new post on Reddit. The title caught his attention: "How long will it be before the whole world drowns?" With a weary sigh, he clicked on the thread, watching as the page loaded with debates and confessions from anonymous users. One person wrote about the strange comfort they found in the constant rainfall, describing how it sent chills through the air and made the world feel eerily alive. Another, whose comment had been upvoted by thirty-two users, confessed that they hadn't slept in nearly two weeks, their mind on the verge of collapse. They feared they might start pulling out their own eyelashes, unable to cope with the mounting stress. The final post that Finn read was more unsettling; it proclaimed, "God is cleansing the world of its sins. Only the Overcasts can guide us to the light now—join our mission, answer the call." Finn shook his head in disbelief, his frustration bubbling over. The Overcasts, the very group that had taken his brother, twisting his mind with their fanatical beliefs. His hands slammed onto the keyboard in a burst of anger, the keys clattering beneath his fingers. He leaned back in his chair, his thoughts drifting to his brother. Although he would never admit it out loud, Finn missed him. They had once been inseparable, moving through life side by side, facing every challenge together, two best friends bound by a love for mischief. As the rain started to fall and the world grew darker, he was drawn into the Overcast's grasp. Now, the distance between them grew with each passing day, until they were nothing more than strangers.

Looking for a distraction, Finn refreshed the page, his eyes scanning the flood of new posts moving down the screen. Videos of central London, now sinking into a series of canals and lakes, dominated his feed. He clicked on one of the blurry videos, watching as people clung desperately to the spiked walls of the Houses of Parliament, the rainwater surging beneath them. It was a haunting sight, a visual reminder of just how far things had fallen. Scrolling further, Finn paused at a clip of Overcasts standing atop the shattered remains of the Shard. They were cheering, their voices rising above the storm as they celebrated their twisted victory. Finn zoomed in on the video, his breath catching in his throat as the image became clearer. His stomach dropped. There, in a blue wetsuit, standing among the group of Overcasts, was his brother. The sight of his own flesh and blood, his best friend, now a part of the very group that had torn them apart, hit Finn like a punch to the gut. For a moment, he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, he was filled with anger, the sound of rain surrounding him as the truth settled in.