The heavy snow began to pile as the burning fumes filled your nostrils.

For the last couple of days, Ghosteyes have been sent on operations in the far eastern reaches of the cold Sibir tundras. A Keres Legion remnant on the brink of Magadan, in the far reaches of the Siberian wilderness. Thirty hostiles on site, all eliminated in a manner similar to the others. Whether that was good or bad, you weren't sure - nearly compromised several times, but the job was said and done in the end.

The mounting snowdrift against your person was unbearable; cuts, bruises coiled around you, it's as if a cudgel was taken to you. You fade in and out of consciousness. Life and death fighting each other to claim one more soul or save one.

"Oye," A voice, shaky and worried, calling out from the edge of the darkness that consumed your vision. An extreme cold came over you as the mind came to it's senses, notably less extreme than when you were neck-deep in the chill. "Oye!" The woman's voice yelped, shaking the frost off your cut, culled uniform. Solis, everso worried, dug you out of an early grave and helped you fight another day, getting you out of this frozen hell. The steel, whirring medical evacuation helicopter galloped past the trees, through valleys and over frozen hills.

Her eyes filled with an indescribable joy seeing you arise, slumped back in a seat - but alive nonetheless. You see the other operators as well, both in similar conditions as well. Mozzie and Glaz were taking care of them.

"You're okay. You're going to be okay. Quédate conmigo," Ana breathed, frosty air exiting her mouth with every breath.