Harmony's Rebellion
Put the following into a comic book. The protagonist is a mute man with a scarf around his mouth. He has long hair and a long coat.
This take place in a dystopian future in the the year 2135 where the arts are banned.
The city was a wasteland of steel and glass, blank and cold beneath the ash-colored sky. Once, people said, it had been a place of vibrant music, colors, and freedom. But now, the streets lay silent, haunted by the hum of Byrd’s machines. Every corner, every alley, was watched. Every laugh, every whisper, every stray note was smothered before it could take root.
The protagonist moved through the maze of empty buildings with a purpose, his steps as silent as his own voice. He had no name, no spoken words—only the weight of his mission pressing against him, hidden in the battered guitar case slung across his back. In a world where melody was forbidden, this instrument was a relic, a weapon, a spark of rebellion.
He stopped beneath a flickering streetlight, glancing down the alley where he’d heard rumors of a hidden enclave, a place where fragments of art and music lingered. His hands tightened on the case, feeling the strings within calling to him, an unspoken promise of power and hope.
But even as he stepped forward, doubt gnawed at him. How could one man—one mute, broken man—make any difference in a world choked by silence? He had no voice, no way to shout or scream his defiance. All he had was the guitar, its strings and wood still smelling faintly of the earth. It was all he needed.
As he lifted it out of the case, his fingers brushed the worn frets, and the weight of its history pressed into him. Somewhere in this city, an old prophecy spoke of a music so powerful it could tear down the walls of Byrd’s rule. If he was to believe the stories, this instrument held the first key, a doorway back to that forgotten harmony.
He struck a single chord, low and rich, a sound that shivered through the darkened street like a gust of wind. It was enough to send a shiver down his spine, to fill the empty silence with something almost alive.
The sound faded, but he felt its echo in his bones, a resonance that promised hope even in the bleakest shadows. Somewhere out there, others must feel it too—the same longing, the same hunger for change. He just had to find them.