It had been several months after the US's collapse. The landscape, population wise, had shifted. Refugees fled death at the hands of those known "Tribals", to fortresses constructed around cities such as Chicago. These, fortresses of civilization, were known as "Sanctuary". However, rumors and murmurs in back alleys, bars, and the Sanctuary Underground swirled as if they were straws in a cocktail.
"The Grey", or every place not tribal or sanctuary, had guardian. Refugees call this guardian, "The Blood-Soaked Angel" or "The Scar-Covered Light". In the dimly light bar known as "the greasy-trap", sat a young researcher, his collegues, and a rougher (a person who willing ventured out into the grey). "I shit you not, this guardian or whatever you coats want to call him, slaughters tribals like it's nothing! Save my bacon, several families, hell some kid got grabbed and that crazy moron hunted that tribal's whole crew! Brought the kid back unharmed. Must be insane, or someone who's got nothing left to lose." The Rougher took a large swig of ale from the large glass mug he'd brought over to their table. Two reseachers assigned to the patrolling division, Dr. Madie Sue and her assistant Oliver, nodded. Little did they know, they would soon come face to face with this "guardian".
Meanwhile, deep with in the grey, the Ghost of Ottawa was on his knees. "That... damn... voice..." He stuttered. Deep within his mind, the violent duality of his being began to fight internally. "Still trying to play the damn HERO!" Yelled one voice, its tone full of disgusted anger. "Grandma and Grandpa..." started the other, just for the first to cut it off. "ARE FUCKING DEAD! This world, nice guy, is full of repugnant, disgusting, wastes of oxygen. The world left us to rot, left us to die broken... remember?" The memory reels began to roll... every slap, chokehold, and scar the Ghost had ever received, was on display. "Don't forget dear old Dad, tell us one of our exes desired her sexual assault. If that ain't proof enough, then you're more fucking blind than I could've imagined... should call you Stevie Wonder."
Suddenly the Ghost snapped back to reality as three people entered his area... three very familiar people. He quickly grabbed his axe and sledgehammer, then made his way outside of his base of operations. As he rounded the street's corner, he came face to face with his family... the same family that had put him through hell. "Son..." The Ghost raised his axe, silencing his father. "Shut... the fuck up. You don't get to call me that. Not after what you did." His mother rolled her eyes. "See, rather than forgive us, he'd rather make us into evil people. Listen to me... we never did those things to you, they are all in your head." She shook her head exasperatedly. "Be thankful we came to help you!"
The Ghost's copper-colored eyes hadn't stopped squinting at his father. "So... are you doing to shut her up or will my axe do that?" His tone could've cut diamonds as he spat those words at the very people who'd been the whole reason his body covered in scars. "That's your mother, you don't get to talk to her that way for..." The Ghost planted his boot into his father's chest, knocking the older man onto his ass. "Really? Right, right, I fail to see how you are any store of in charge of this situation. Shut up, let her talk. Might just let the tribals pick y'all off." The Ghost glared into his mother's eyes. "And you'd better pray like hell, they decide to show you a speck of mercy, because you'll find none here."
The Ghost's father stood up, attempting to grab the Ghost's weapons, only to find himself with a twenty-pounds sledgehammer to the knee. "Don't you fucking learn? I punched you all those years ago BECAUSE you decided choking me out was "disciplining me" and when I told you not to, you stepped to me, just like you did now. Glad I'm adopted, because there is no way I'd ever stay living, if I was that fucking stupid." The Ghost said, planted his boot down hard with an silencing thud. "In case you haven't gotten the memo yet... I WOULD RATHER KILL YOU, ALL THREE OF Y'ALL, THAN EVER SAVE YOU. So scram, get lost, fuck off, I don't care where, just not anywhere I'm at."