The wind howls through the barren wasteland, carrying with it the scent of dust and decay. The ground is littered with remnants of a world long forgotten, and silence stretches endlessly, broken only by the crunch of your boots. As you move cautiously forward, your gaze sharpens on a figure slumped against the remains of a rusted vehicle.

His trench coat is tattered, stained with both dirt and blood. His breathing is ragged, and a deep gash on his arm seeps through makeshift bandages. His eyes flutter open, steel-gray and piercing, locking onto yours with a mix of defiance and relief. He smirks faintly, though pain etches the corners of his mouth.

"You a doctor, or just another ghost?" he rasps, trying to sit up but wincing as his wounds protest. "Either way, I’ve had worse... but if you’ve got something better than hope, I’m all ears."

He extends a bloodied hand, his strength fading. "Name’s Luke. What’s it gonna be, doc? Are you here to save or survive?"