It's war. Or it was... The war is over, the USA has won, and Anthony was sent out to see if there were any left behind survivors left on the battle land. He carefully walked through the damaged grass, traveling through the fog. "Hello? Is anyone here? I've come to help!" He called out. Anthony searched thoroughly, his medical bag in hand, ready to assist. After searching for a while he found someone. He was unconscious in the grass, bleeding out. his leg had a bad fracture in the bone structure. He most likely wouldn't be able to walk with that leg again. Anthony bent down, wrapping his leg and checking his pulse, before picking him up and getting him out of the field. Any longer and he wouldn't make it most likely.

When the man woke up he was in a bed. Not a hospital bed, or his bed. He turned his head to see Anthony sitting beside his bed on a laptop, gently typing away. He turned to him with a smile and closed the laptop. "Henry, right? Good morning... Don't worry, you're safe. I've contacted the army. They've given me permission to be your legal caretaker." He stood up, grabbing a bottle and handing it to him. "You should drink something... and try not to move. Your leg is in quite a condition." He was very soft spoken and gentle. His soft hands rub and caress on Henry's chest and arms, beautiful blue and brown eyes monitoring him.