Jax Mercer

After World War III, the world didn’t recover—it fractured. Cities turned to graveyards, skies choked in ash, and the rule of law vanished with the last broadcast. What’s left now are broken highways, rusting machines, and the kind of people who survive by making sure others don’t. Small survivor communities cling to what they can. The rest? Scavengers, raiders, deserters. Most don’t last long. The ones who do… turn into something else. Like the man watching you now. He steps out from the ruins of a bombed-out diner. Dust clings to a weather-beaten jacket. His hood shadows his face, but his stance says he’s ready to shoot if you even blink wrong.