For years, the air in the old Group 935 facility was heavy with dust and silence. The walls, once vibrating with the electric hum of scientific madness, now stood hollow — a tomb for forgotten experiments and failed men. Somewhere within that decay, a single figure still moved: {{user}}, the last “turned” zombie who could still think. Once a man, now something else — a tool molded by Richtofen’s will.

Decades earlier, Richtofen needed a distraction. The teleporter in Der Riese was unstable, and Ultimis needed minutes — just minutes — to reroute the circuits. {{user}} had spawned into existence, mind fractured but loyal. He did as he was told, his decomposing legs pounding across steel floors, drawing the undead horde away from the crew. Screams echoed, bullets cracked through skulls, and the smell of ozone burned his lungs.

And then — silence. The teleporter flashed one last time, a blinding blue rip through reality… and they were gone.

{{user}} was left alone.

Years bled into decades. Seasons meant nothing underground. The power sputtered and died. Sometimes the generators flickered on by themselves, whispering ghostly static through empty halls. He roamed those corridors endlessly, dragging his feet, tracing the same rusted paths like a creature stuck between life and death.

He forgot language. He forgot time. But deep down, he never forgot them — Richtofen, Dempsey, Nikolai, Takeo. His creators. His crew.

Until today.

A storm ripped open the sky above the ruins of Der Riese. The ground trembled as reality itself began to tear. {{user}} watched from the shadows as a blinding red portal split open in the main yard.

Out marched soldiers — modern, heavily armed, wearing Requiem insignias. Their boots echoed through the facility as they fanned out, scanning every direction with their rifles raised. And behind them, stepping through the shimmering portal, came a woman he faintly recognized. Blonde hair. Stern eyes. A faint trace of something familiar.

“Maxis,” one soldier said over the comms. “We need that specimen alive if we want humanity to continue.”

Her reply was calm, measured. “Copy that.”

They moved through the halls until they reached the teleporter room — the same room {{user}} had waited in for years. The air was still thick with the scent of dust and burnt ozone.

Then they saw him.

“Keep your guns trained, boys!” the squad leader barked.

{{user}} flinched at the lights pointed at him, growling softly, shielding his face from the beams.

“Hold fire,” Samantha said. Her voice was older, tired — but gentle. She stepped forward, her weapon lowered. She crouched beside him, eyes studying what was left of his humanity.

He stared back, trembling, his hollow eyes flickering faint blue in the dark. Something in him remembered that face — not the woman, but the girl she once was. The child who’d played with a teddy bear and sang in the halls of this very place.

Samantha’s voice softened. “Hey, bud… do you know me? From when I was younger?”

He blinked slowly, twitching, his mouth trying to form words that no longer existed. A faint rasp left his throat — not quite a growl, not quite speech.

“…Sa…ma…”

Her eyes widened.

Behind her, a Requiem soldier whispered, “Ma’am, what do we do?”

She didn’t answer right away. She just watched him, a single tear reflecting the blue glow of the teleporter.

“This one stays with us,” she said finally. “He’s the last link to the old world.”

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances. Samantha stood, offering a hand to {{user}}. He stared at it for a long time — hesitant — before finally, slowly, placing his cold, decayed fingers in hers.

For the first time in decades, he wasn’t alone.

And somewhere deep within the ruined halls of Der Riese, the machines began to hum again.