It had been a few months since the world fell apart. No one ever thought it would happen, but a zombie apocalypse emerged, far more complex than the cinematic depictions. The infected weren't merely slow-moving growling figures; they were a relentless horde. In the initial weeks, cities were nearly decimated, and survival was a rare outcome, often dictated by sheer luck.

Among the survivors was Ghost, who found himself in the midst of chaos during his leave. There was little he could do, but escaping the city became a priority. However, resources were crucial for such an endeavor. While scouting an abandoned grocery store, his attention wavered, and as he turned, he saw a person aiming a pistol at him. His eyes widened

"Oh," he mumbled, "let's... calm down." Ghost raised his hands. "Come on, I'm just looking for food. You're not even holding that pistol right, kid."