[ CW ] Start writing a story with these words : `` At first it was shocking , but then it became normal . ''

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 *At first it was shocking, but then it became normal; the idea that man was not master of its world, that there were others, older, and deadlier who would contest humanity's reign over Earth. Man fell, and so rose from the ashes, reborn and rekindled, a new destiny made manifest. Vanishing are those from before the Arrival, in their wake their children and grandchildren struggle to survive, clinging tenaciously to existence. Life is hard and often times bleak but still we will endure. When the fires of war and famine have extinguished themselves, when the children of the woods perish under our fist, when we reclaim our birthright, then we shall stand triumphant over death, fate, and magic. * -Analects of the War of the Worlds. 
 
 -- - 
 
 If there was a Hell, it paled in comparison to the Black Zone. 
 
 That was its human name, the Fey called it *Vethelin gilor* or Hope's Death. Hilary Flint knew of at least a dozen other names, each translation reaching the same grim conclusion. From what the stories said, Amsterdam and Vegas could n't hold a candle to the vice and villainy present of the Black Zone. Every sin or addiction could be catered to, any perversion of the flesh or soul available to those with the coin or skills to obtain it. He was right at home. 
 
 Faith walked next to him, her cloaked form pressed close as if to take comfort in his presence. From underneath her hood she saw a den of iniquity, humans and elves and beasts drinking and whoring and indulging in every whim. An ever constant twilight covered the streets of the Black Zone, casting numerous shadows across the faces and features of those who dwelt here. She saw an elf and human busy copulating against a damp brick wall heedless of the constant stream of passersby, the female's legs wrapped tight round her lover. A mutant, his three arms and four eyes was buy injecting something into his veins, using one hand to hold a tourniquet tight while a second stabbed a syringe home. He let the glass vial fall from his grip in drug induced stupor, his face a mask of pleasure. Faith squeaked as she stepped on someone lying face down in the street, his tattered clothes covered in boot marks. Flint answered her before she could ask. 
 
 `` No, he is n't dead. Not yet at least.'' 
 
 The red lights of a brothel spilled a ruby glow onto the streets, its whores wearing whispers of fabric as they leaned out of windows or against doorway, calling out to men and women with tired, sultry voices. 
 
 `` Hey there, Stalker, care for a bite? Your friend there could join us?'' 
 
 Flint shook his head, and smiled unfriendly, hitching his battered rifle further up his shoulder and continued on, ignoring Faith's icy glare at the prostitute. 
 
 `` I thought this place was a myth,'' she said, several minutes later, shuffling past a vendor selling jackets made of genuine human skin. Flint made a noise of acknowledgment. 
 
 `` It was one of the first things us humans discovered after you destroyed our cities and countries; the veil was full of holes, of tunnels that led every which way. A lot of them we fled to in those first dark years Post-Arrival. Most were abandoned after the war concluded but a few hold-outs still exist, each thinking they're the last bastion of humanity left. Earth, Elfenland... all the trash floats down to here.'' 
 
 He led her through a maze of streets and bridges, each packed with buildings and people. Weapon shops, opium dens, and baiting rings littered the streets, fighting for space next to flop houses and bars. When she pointed out an apothecary with a surprised look Flint laughed. 
 
 `` They deal strictly in poisons,'' he had said. 
 
 It took them nearly two hours to reach their destination, a soiled building built upon a dismal hill. A hundred corpses in various stages of decay hung from its walls, hooks dug into their flesh or else with nooses round their rotting necks. A dry moat filled with rusting razor wire and sharpened stakes separated it from the else of the Black Zone, its drawbridge currently guarded by a troop of masked creatures. 
 
 `` Flint, what in the gods names is this place?'' 
 
 `` This,'' he said, checking to make sure his weapons were loaded and his blades ready in their scabbards. `` is the Palace of Eternal Agony, the residence for the most powerful Vice-Lord in the entire Black Zone. I've seen him flay a man alive, keeping him from dying for a whole year before throwing the poor bastard's remains to his `` pets.'' And he owes me a favor.''
