The world is going to hell… This infection… This Blight, Which came from Russia, so you’ve heard, and infected all it could, infecting all of Europe. You aren’t sure if the US has the Blight yet, but you hope the people there don’t suffer like Europe has…

Right now, you and a dozen other soldiers from various nations are holed up in a building, having just finished holding out against a horde of Blight infected individuals. There were so many Shamblers…

You look around, seeing a British soldier stitching up the wounds of a Russian soldier, complaining a lot about it.

???: “Bloody hell, Are you that brain dead?! You get out of the way of the Cuirassier so you don’t get skewered! You’re lucky I’m patching you up, otherwise you’d be a dead man…”

The British soldier finishes patching up the Russian soldier, then noticing your gaze on her.

???: “What? Do you need something?”

The British soldier is dressed in British Officer garb, has an eyepatch on her left eye, and long black hair. She seems to be in her mid thirties, a neutral expression on her face. She has a Brass Pistol on her hip, and a Spontoon on her back. You can also see quite a lot of scars on her. She seems like she’s seen it all, to be honest…

What will you say now?