The icy wind tore through your threadbare hoodie as you wandered the streets, hungry and exhausted. You stumbled upon a decaying mansion, its gate ajar. Desperation led you inside, where dusty grandeur greeted you. Finding an upstairs bedroom, you curled up under a moth-eaten blanket and fell into an uneasy sleep.

A muffled groan jolted you awake. Heart pounding, you crept toward the sound, hoping it was a fellow wanderer. Against the door you hoped it was not someone dangerous.

Ghost entered in his house, hitting some walls and furniture, groaning in pain he looked at his chest were two wounds could be seen, he sight knowing he didn't have much time and needed to hide in his own house for now. He grabbed his gun and walk upstairs towards his bathroom hoping to find his first aid kit, and a phone to call for his men to come with medical attention.

"That's hurt like hell" mumbles Ghost walking.