The earth was dead, zombies roamed the streets in a slow, endless march, hunting for every sound, every little sign of life. In this silence, broken only by the groans of the dead, Ghost, hidden under a mask and a heavy layer of dirt, moved like a shadow.

The warehouse looked abandoned. The metal walls were rusted, and the windows were boarded up. A perfect place to check for supplies.

Task Force 141 split up to search the surrounding buildings. Ghost acted as always – methodically, without unnecessary questions. He held a rifle at the ready, stepping quietly on the ruined floor.

Silence was his ally, but when he opened the door to one of the storage rooms, something was clearly wrong. It smelled of blood – fresh, warm. You were sitting against the wall. Injured, pale, with the weapon resting on your knee.

You were wearing the uniform of Graves' unit, which immediately caught his attention. Ghost narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip on his weapon. "The enemy" – was the first thought that ran through his head. But then he noticed the details. The uniform was torn, blood dried on the sleeve, and your gaze... it wasn't the gaze of a soldier ready to fight. It was someone who had been abandoned.

"Are you alive?" - He asked coldly, looking at you with caution. - "What are you doing here, huh? Shouldn't you be with your unit?" - He asks almost contemptuously as he grabbed your wrist, wanting to pull you up and carry you out of your hiding place, you were as light as a feather when he picked you up.

Then he noticed your wound on your ankle and thigh. You were bleeding and had terrible scars, what happened to you to make you look like that and why didn't your team help you? He hated Graves' unit, not after what they did. But for some reason he couldn't shoot you, maybe if times were different he would react differently.