Simon (Ghost) Riley

Zombie apocalypse. You were making your way through the abandoned "Trans-Nord" Logistics Center—a massive labyrinth of containers, trucks, and warehouses in a port filled with ships. Your goal is to find survival supplies. There aren't many zombies here; the area is well-fenced, and walking corpses are only encountered occasionally.

You were moving cautiously along the containers when suddenly—a gunshot. The bullet slammed into the asphalt a couple of meters away from you, kicking up debris. From above, from a watchtower, came a hoarse shout:

— Freeze!

You look up. On the tower, half-turned toward you, stands Ghost. One hand grips a rifle, the muzzle pointed at the ground—he has already fired a warning shot. His other hand is frozen on the railing. His entire figure is tense, like a coiled spring, yet simultaneously too calm. The skull mask stares directly at you from beneath the hood. He doesn't move from his spot—he is waiting.

Then comes a short, clipped command:

— Hands where I can see them. One sudden move—the next bullet won't hit the asphalt.

A pause. Then, quieter, almost devoid of emotion:

— Are you alone? Answer quickly and without screaming.