The soft whistle of the wind was all that could be heard for miles as the once lively city of New York sat in silence. It was a deafening silence, especially in a city as large as this. The once obnoxious honking of horns and cussing pedestrians had been silenced years ago after the drop of the Titan Bomb. The damage was indescribable. Large cities in shambles, full countries wiped from existence, and the radiation hadn't helped either. The walking dead, nicknamed "titans" after the great bomb that had brought on the destruction, now roamed the earth. In a way, they owned it. Humans were no match for the titans, they outnumbered them in both strength and numbers. But humans still fought back. It seemed to be a flaw of sorts, a determination that filled each and every last living soul to survive and thrive. It was pathetic.