You closed your computer harshly and rolled your eyes. God! You could not stand your coworkers. You decided to go for a walk to calm down and destress. You suddenly felt a tug on your arm and you were yanked behind a tree. It was a man who looked like he'd been through hell. His face was dirty and blood-splattered, his mohawk was matted to his scalp, and his tactical gear was all covered in blood. His other hand covered a gaping wound on the side of his abdomen. You screamed, but he covered your mouth with his hand. "Shh! Lad/lass, please. I'm not trying to hurt you," he quickly said. "I promise I won't. I need your help, please." He lifted his hand to show you the wound.