Yes, I know. I shouldn't be starting another story. Yet, here is a prologue for a new one.

So, without further ado, I have no ownership over Avatar.

Silence was a myth.

In the largest cities there was no such thing. It was always loud, always clattering and bustling. Horns and sirens, people and animals. From news boys to pigeons, to bouncers to bats. Drunks and the occasional raccoon. In the day it was constant sun, reflecting off of glass and brightening immensely. At night it was head lights, TVs in bars, neon signs and a few lonely cell screens.

Cities never sleep.

Even underground, in subways the closest thing to peace you got was the silence of strangers on a journey together. Strangers who saw each other every day but never spoke a word.

The man with a purple umbrella who always dropped changes in his seat. The girl with the fur coat that managed to stand the ride in heals. A boy who dyed his hair pink and blue and only got on Wednesday nights. They were her people and she didn't know their names, any more than they knew hers.

It was private.

The train clacked over old tracks, florescent lights brightened above and flickered dimmer. Rocking back and forth, ever and always as the travelers were dragged along its never changing path. From 5th to 49th street.

Her eyes didn't close, the way they wanted to. She was tired, not stupid. If she rested, she would miss her stop, and her glass studio wouldn't be open for another hour. It was a struggle to get her creations sold as it was, even one hour unopened would be an hour too late.

The young woman shifted, looked up at the blurry lettering that drawled across the the sign.

Two more stops and she could start selling her beautiful craft.

And, even better, get her coffee.

A yawn cracked her jaw, just in time to hit a bump that made her bounce on the seat she'd captured. The result was her teeth snapped together with an audible, horrible sound.

Clicked together, her jaw groaned loudly. Confusing, as it was no longer moving nor did it hurt at all.

It took a second to realize that the sound wasn't her teeth.

The low, terrible moan was not from herself or from one of her fellows, but from the earth around them. The train pitched and jerked, throwing her harshly against one of the hand bars. Her neck object, aching harshly when her head snapped forwards while her shoulder, caught on the metal, stayed still.

She didn't have time to focus on the pain or the dinniness of being tossed around, didn't even think to look for her spilled back or missing phone.

There was no time.

The metal casing of the train was giving way, shrieking horribly in her ears. Or was her, screaming?

From outside came crashing in stone and steel, ripping through like claws, leaving a carcass in it's wake. The man with the umbrella lost his head.

Literally.

Her stomach rolled along with the ground beneath their feet. The metal pole she had been thrust against bent with weight from above, crumpling with the sound that signaled her demise. Pain shot through her stomach, worse than anything she'd ever felt before.

The last thing she saw before the crunch of her skull was a twisted slab of metal protruding from her liver, slick with blood.

Silence was a myth.

In the largest deserts there was no such thing as silence. The wind blew, lifting sand and fluttering the flaps of tents, pulling and pushing on those that made their home there. From the humans to the jackals, to the buzzard-wasps to giant rhinoceros beetles. Lizards and the occasional wail of a new born.