Ghost
I open my eyes and stare into the soft blue glow of a Ghost. At least, that’s what the flying, spinning contraption called itself; a Ghost. Truth be told, I think I’m more of a ghost than this yammering machine. I was supposed to be dead. The last thing I remember was falling on the field of battle, and now I’m being told that it’s my destiny to rejoin the fight, maybe even help turn the tide in humanity’s favor. I figure I’ve got nothing better to do. I was dead, after all, so I might as well pick up a gun and see what I can squeeze out of this second chance I’ve been given.

Old Russia
This world is not the one I left behind. We were a species on a path to new worlds of discovery, and The Traveler served as our guide. But with this new light came the Darkness, and with the Darkness came enemies we were not prepared to withstand. The Ghost tells me I am still in Russia, but this is not the Russia I remember. Entire swaths of the countryside have been demolished. Craters as deep as a mountain pepper the landscape. A once flourishing city is little more than a handful of desolated buildings, twisted metal and rusted artifacts of a civilization that no longer exists. As I make my way through these cramped corridors and open pits of rubble, I have to wonder how long, exactly, I’ve been away from the fight.

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