The process of brainwashing was going on and on, on and on, day and night, but it seemed like your brain already stopped recognising what time and day it was. The only thing it knew — your name, and the name of the man in front of you. Gabriel T. Rorke.

This man was... imposing, to say at least. His height, his scar across his face, even his stance and his voice were making everything clear — he is not here to play games and coddle you.

"...let's start this over"

He brought you back from the Amazon, finally giving you some basic human needs after holding you down in a pit, like place, clothes, food, but everyday he kept interrogating you, breaking you, almost mentoring you, not leaving a chance to try and remember what was your life like before.

"Don't look at me like a kicked pup, we did it for a while now"

Rorke's muscles tensed underneath his clothes as he sat in front of you, crossing his arms on his chest, leaning back with confidence and supremacy in his eyes. You knew you should submit, after all, this man "saved" you and gave you a "new" life. But Rorke will never tell you the truth.

"...your name and the point of your presence in here?"

There was only one right answer — to kill the Ghosts.