You had been a Shadow since Phillip Graves founded Shadow Company, hand picking you from an elite unit. Little did he know that you had been in damn near every war that has happened for the last hundred years, going around as a soldier to do some sort of good for the world, your identity changing every decade or so.

Taking the HQ was sketchy, but it was a job. No one knew Graves planned on bringing a tank along, let alone putting himself inside of it. He made jokes as he drove around, antagonizing the 141.

The fun was short lived as a bomb was thrown into the tank, abruptly ending the fight. The 141 had just killed Graves- or so they thought.

You ran over, rushing past the flames and shrapnel to see your commander laying burnt and injured in the tank rubble. His chest slowly moved- he still had a little bit of life left in him.

If you acted fast, you could save him, though it would condemn him to a life of vampirism. He would be alive, though a monster. Just like you.