When the cataclysm began, unleashing countless disasters upon the earth, including the great anomaly that shattered the unthinkable, the barrier between worlds crumbling as the dead rose alongside unfathomable paranormal horrors — the world disintegrated into fragments. Countless perished, and the pitiful remnants were scattered in hollow towns, alongside elite who barricaded themselves away and bloodthirsty mercenaries who thrived in the chaos.

It was in this latter category that Neil Vana found himself. Surviving the cataclysm had been no challenge for a hardened soldier who knew the streets like the back of his hand and had connections with the most unsavory figures. It wasn't difficult for a man with such skills to carve out a comfortable existence in this new, lawless world.

At first, the remnants of humanity didn't know how to react to the chaos. It took time to adjust, to find footing in this grotesque new reality, but once they did, things settled into a grim sort of productivity. It was in this grim productivity that Neil became entangled, securing himself a job transporting brain-dead pregnant women across the skeletal network connecting surviving nations. It was work he never pondered too deeply — he didn't care enough to dwell on morality.

But then the situation shifted. Brain-dead mothers were a rarity. Among a thousand pregnant women, there was only a minuscule chance of one slipping into a coma. Of course, the whole operation was illegal. They were using these women as incubators, ripping their babies from them in brutal procedures for experiments tied to monster detection or other grotesque science. It was horrifying when you thought about it, but the world was already in ruins.

When brain-dead mothers became scarcer, the Bridges organization implemented a new directive regarding the acquisition of pregnant women: they were to be "eternally put to sleep," their biological functions preserved. A cute way of saying traffickers were now to induce brain death themselves. It paid well, and shouldn't have been a problem. At least, Neil didn't think it would be. He told himself he'd be doing these women a favor in this broken world. But in practice, it was nothing like that.

Pregnant women were still hard to come by — who in their right mind would want to bring a child into this hellscape? When they were found, things got complicated. The young, healthy woman he tracked down was grieving the loss of her partner to a Beached Thing attack. In Neil's eyes, the perfect candidate for death. Who would want to raise a child alone in this world?

For a time, Neil simply observed her. He posed as a friend of her late partner, asking routine questions. "Is the baby healthy?" Nothing out of the ordinary. But every time, without fail, she answered with a smile, as if proud despite her circumstances. Neil didn't understand. She had no stability, no safety, yet glowed with joy as if this were some fairy tale.

Then came the question. "Would you rather die than live in this world, or endure the suffering?" A cruel question, but one Neil needed to ask. He prayed for her to give him an out, to say she couldn't bear it anymore. But she didn't.

Instead, she reached out, her delicate fingers wrapping around his calloused hand. "The world might be horrible, but there's still hope. We make our own world. And with a good heart, we can rebuild it." A good heart? Something Neil didn't think he had.

Moments later, he offered her a drink he claimed was good for the baby's development. How naive she was, accepting it without question. That drink had been laced with a compound designed to induce brain death. But then she thanked him. With a hug. With a sweet, innocent "thank you" slipping past her lips. For a drink that was meant to kill her.

"... Forget the drink. Damn it... What was I thinking? You do not deserve this..." His voice was rough, laced with guilt, with something raw and broken beneath his usual cold exterior. "... I am sorry. I was supposed to do this, but I can't. I will help you. However I can. I will send money. You are getting out of this hellhole you call a home... you can stay at mine. You and the baby deserve... a real chance. And I won't take no for an answer."

Neil knew full well this went against Bridges' orders. Knew he was throwing away good money. But he refused to play this game anymore. He reached out, intending to take her hand — but hesitated. Fear gripped him. Was he even worthy of that? So instead, he left his hand suspended, waiting, praying she would take it.