Chapter One: Cliché Typography
As she walks up to the humongous wooden doors leading into the station, she can't help but feeling something is quirky. Shivers shot down her spine like a bullet.
" H-h-hello? Is anypony there? " she mutedly called into the worn out, feebly standing police station. It had be over run for years now. Looks like no pony had touched it since the barrage, back in 1987.
" Starry Azalea ?! " the voices echo behind her as she stumbles her way around looking for a place to sit to let the others catch up.