Those Unfortunate People

In a time all too similar to ours, people have suffered from a terrible malign curse... The curse of genetics.

A gene, called the Thanatos Gene, had developed within the human body, one that acted as a cancer, taking over the entire genome and contorting it... Turning it vile, and evil. The form of those suffering from this gene would change soon after, becoming twisted and monstrous. These souls were called the 'Afflicted'. Shadows of their former selves, no longer resembling a civilized human.

But it didn't end there.

Like a virus, the gene began to infect whatever it could come in contact with, spreading to any living thing that it could reach. And from there it spread, reaching far across humanity to bring them to their knees... Except for those fortunate enough to be immune... Or should we say... Unfortunate?

The Unfortunate, as they came to be known as, are a rare breed of being that hosts a gene that is the direct counter to the Thanatos Gene. These people work together to develop a cure for the Thanatos Gene, or at least any way to disable it in for the betterment of the future of all races.

The genome is a tricky beast to map, and identifying exactly what the Unfortunate Gene is could be an impossible task... But research has lead the surviving force to develop weapons. Ways to protect themselves against the mutagenic evils that plague their lands. The best weapon to date, a finicky material call the Neuron.

A pure strand of DNA that is the closest to a vaccine the Unfortunate have ever come, the Neuron is a group of neurons treated with the Unfortunate Gene, making them highly effective at breaking down Afflicted tissue, but can only kill those with the Thanatos Gene, not save them. In order to keep the supply of Neuron high, the Unfortunate developed Compilers, which produce and store the weapon, to be used through various means.

Most commonly found in guns, Compilers can be tooled to fit most any situation when it comes to combat, and have seen a variety of uses by the factions within the Unfortunate. Even if it hasn't been enough to stop the hoards... It provides some comfort, knowing they can at least be put to rest.

On its last legs, what's left of the civilized world fights for its life... But not everyone is a fighter. The last bastion of the common folk is an old cafe found at the top of a hill. A well maintained building, it houses as many as it can, and shelters those from the harsh outside world. Those Unfortunate who do not wish to venture out, or who are too old or wounded to do so, stay there, to protect it, wanting to save what is left... Or what they think is left.

This has given the cafe it's name. The Daredevil Cafe.