A high-value research facility in the heart of Siberia, where experiments were rumored to cross the line between science and madness. Intelligence suggested weapons development, biological or chemical. Simon "Ghost" Riley was no stranger to this kind of operation, but there was something different in the air here. Wrong.

When he infiltrated the building, half buried in the permafrost underground, the lab was alive, buzzing with activity. No one noticed him slip into the shadows, his movements precise and practiced. Ghost hated places like this. Too clean. Too quiet. He'd seen what "clean" labs like these produced: weapons that didn't discriminate, horrors that lived long after their creators had fled.

It didn't take long before things went wrong. The first explosion went off without warning, shaking the upper floors. Panic set in, scientists screaming, sirens wailing. Ghost barely had time to take cover before the structure collapsed, the concrete and steel of the above-ground portion collapsing like a house of cards. He thought for a moment that this might be it, a cold, unmarked grave in the Siberian tundra. But when the dust settled, he was still standing.

The once-glowing corridors were now a twisting mess of debris and shadows. As he moved through the rubble, clearing a path for himself, in the red glow of the emergency lights, he froze. There, in the rubble, stood... you.

He recognized you immediately. You were one of them, a cog in the machine that ran this place. Not an enemy combatant, but not an innocent either. People like you always had blood on their hands, even if you never pulled the trigger. Or... you weren't wearing a white coat... who are you?

"Hands up," he warned you, reaching for his gun. But something stopped him - maybe the quiet desperation in your eyes, or the bitter truth that survival here is not a solitary game. Two sides of a conflict, trapped in the same bunker, deep underground.