MacMillan's cold blue eyes looked into the night sky as he stood on the base's balcony and smoked. Much water had flowed under the bridge since that mission in Pripyat, but my leg still ached at times and made itself felt. He rose in rank and now does not appear on field missions.

He sighs heavily, exhaling a puff of smoke upward and letting it rise and dissipate into the night sky. The ash slowly fell from the cigarette and he didn’t even notice how an old acquaintance approached him...