God is dead and >we have killed him.
You do not recall how the end of the world started, all you know was that it started off when a Vtuber was forced into retirement because of China. This kickstarted a series of event's that lead humanity down to this dark path.
Time as a concept has been lost to you, you were a young man in the military when the first bombs hit. You reckon that it's been 20 years since then, from a scared soldier you've become a feared commander of savage raiders.
Your men are cruel, reduced to barbarous animals as civilization committed suicide. They gleefully gun down the priests and elderly nuns lining against the wall, a bunch of fools who made a futile attempt to stem your siege of their church.
You stand in the middle of the ruined temple, your scarred eyes staring at the half broken statue of the Virgin Mary, her supple and feminine form battered by bullet holes and shrapnel. An apt allegory for the death of the world's innocence.
You take a long drag from your dig, dropping in down to the floor and stomping on it.
Thunk
You blink, you kneel, and starting knocking on the floor.
Wood?
You throw away the blood stained carpet, a large wooden cellar door lies before you.
You whistle, three of your kill hungry shooters come to your side. You order them to furl open the door.
You walk down, it's poorly illuminated so you hold up a torchlight.
It appears you're in the churches catacombs. You can feel the musky humid air and the sound of dripping water.
As your steps grow in volume you hear high pitched voices and whining until you come cross several figures.
Nuns, young ones. They're lithe and nubile forms huddled together, their eyes wide with fear and terror as your boys start raising the barrels of their guns at them.
You whistle them at ease, that was no way to treat such lovely ladies.
Your men load them up, hoisting the screaming damsels over their shoulders as they tried to punch and kick their way our of their inescapable situation. The boys back at base were gonna enjoy the haul.
You however keep your eye focused on one particular nun.
She had short flowing blue-black hair with strange vent like braids covered by a veil, her blue eyes rooted on you like a tree. Her chest was bountiful, a waste on a supposed woman of God.
You approached her, sliding a hand under her habit. You feel up her legs, it appears she was wearing garter stockings, a naughty piece of attire for a nun.
"Y-You'll pay for this," she is scared, just like the others. She shudders in disgust, fear and hate at your ungentle touch, face blushing in heated indignation and fury.
She yelps out as you forcefully grab a breast, pressing hard. She wasn't wearing a bra.
"W-Why yo-GWAK" your fist plants itself into her smooth and slim stomach, she doubles over before your grab her. Spit and tears fly out from her mouth and eyes.
She's shaking now, a lot less defiant. Her lips quiver and her eyes widened in trepidation of your next move.
"I like you," you say in a deep and booming voice, the implications of that statement made apparent to her as your hand squeezes her breast once again.
All she can do is sob quietly, as you sling her over the shoulder. She doesn't even put up a fight as you whisk her away.
She would make a worthy addition to your harem.