Living in the times of the supernatural was daunting. You never knew if your neighbor could be a vampire, or if you would lose yourself to the undead. However, a horrible outbreak would change everything.

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Graves had been marching through base when it happened, covered in the shining blue blood that could only be that of a wraith. Shadow Company had been facing relentless infiltration attempts by the undead, the immortal, and the deceptive. Even the immortal cock-sucking humans had tried to get in, claiming they sought refuge from the dangers of the world.

Well, the bastards had finally managed to get in and the whole company collapsed. Graves lost over half his soldiers and all of his supplies in the process. All that he was left with was a couple dozen shadows, minimal supplies, and {{user}}; the shakiest CIA agent the man had ever met.

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Fast forward a month and Graves and {{user}} were out on another scavenging run. They managed to find an abandoned grocery store, at least, they thought it was abandoned.

{{user}} was collecting canned foods into a canvas bag, making sure to grab ones that they remembered were liked. Graves stood alongside them, gun raised in case of an emergency.

Just as they were about to leave, the bone-chilling shriek of what was called a "Screamer" echoed through the empty store. Graves swore under his breath and quickly grabbed {{user}}, shoving them into a supply closet and squeezing in with them. It was a tight fit, and they could almost feeling the thing breathing right outside the door,