A look without, within. Nothing remains; your purpose is vapid, absent. Your only worth is your constitution, your courage. You decide that the only contribution remaining to be made is your life. To pass on your virtues, you sacrifice your body to the natives, a tribe of Pygmy mystics. The last thing you remember are little hands tearing at your flesh. Are they pulling you up from the pit of nihilism into a greater existence, or are they pushing you down deeper into the abyss of eternal nothingness?

Usurpers have seized control of the city's broadcasting signals. All the citizens are fixated to their TVs in terror, in disbelief. A video of a ticking nuclear warhead rules the screen on every channel, and only one man can stop it. Me.

The problem? No one knows that.
The terrorists' only condition for disarming the bomb? Deliver me into their hands, dead or alive.

The hunt begins just as the race is on.
No respect.

MY FIRST COMPO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!