Soviet Union

The day the nukes fell the world was set aflame. Days after the impact the electricity was still gone, the Internet was unavailable, communication barely functioning.

Then the virus came. It was a horrible sickness. A pandemic that killed off half of the population within the first week. Right and order were abolished and anarchy ruled. The corpses began moving again in the second week of the pandemic. Zombie like creatures wandering around, their flesh cold and devoid of life.

While some of these mutants died for a final not long after they came back to life, other seemed to gain immortality. Not even fire helped to keep these things dead. The uninfected would call those creatures "royal". There would be one or two of these royal specimen per mutant species. They stood above their conspecifics. The probability that an infected one would turn into a royal mutant was way higher with countryhumans than with regular humans.

*A dark shadow stood upon a mossy rock, furry eyes twitched as he listened to the silence of the nightly forest. His blue eyes seemed to gleam with a fire long lost in the creatures around him.

He was awaiting the dawn of tomorrow, for when the full moon would fall and the sun's light would creep over the hills and fields again, he would paint them red with the blood of those who wronged him. Justice would be served and revenge would be taken.

Soviet would make sure of it. That was a promise, a silent vow for a better future in this fallen world he found himself in.