Vladimir Makarov opened his eyes into the dim light of the outside. It seemed like early morning, and he could hear birds chirping and a small stream flowing in the distance. It looked like he was deep inside an ancient forest.

He immediately checked his pockets for his belongings. His FN Five-seven was still intact, along with 3 magazines and a silencer. Makarov checked his trusty knife from when he was a served in the elite Spetsnaz, and looked around again, and this time he saw something a small settlement. He began walking towards it at a leisurely pace, enjoying the cool air.

At first, the place seemed to be rather pleasant. But as he drew closer, he could feel the suffocating dust and smog that filled the air like an unseen evil. Although there was hardly nobody about, the people already up looked very unhealthy and covered in thick layers of grime.

Makarov climbed over the fence, which looked like it was in disrepair. Suddenly, a man wearing a white uniform and helmet came up and confronted him.

"You can't just stroll along and jump over the fence! The peacekeepers here are lenient, but I can't just overlook this!" he said, annoyed.

"Oh? Well, I'm new here." Makarov replied.

After getting an exasperated look from the man, he decided to leave before anything else can happen. As he turned to walk away, he felt a blow on his back. Rapid spinning around, he drew his knife from under his tailored suit and thrust it into the man's neck. A look of shock entered his face, his hands raised up to his neck, clasping the gaping wound. He fell to the ground, dead, in a pool of crimson blood.

Luckily, most people were too busy to notice this encounter. Makarov picked up the body with a sigh and threw it back over the fence, where it landed in a bush with a soft thud. He wiped his hands on some leaves and continued on his way.