A lonely man walked through the abandoned tunnel as his flashlight lit the way within the darkness. His ears heard the whispers escape from the pipes as his Kalash was strung over his shoulder. Nobody, not even the mutants would want to come here. There was a presence no living creature would stay near, Ghosts.

He grabbed his batter charger and put the power back to its maximum, only to see a blast shadow of a woman sitting on the floor. However, the shadow of the woman began to move away from the tracks as she cried to herself. It was sad that no one could comfort her even in death.

He moved passed her as he continued to follow the path of the tunnel to his destination, but was met with a surprising change to the tunnel. After all, he did use this tunnel to bypass the Communist and Nazi stations. The problem that he faced was that there was a structure that sealed off an entire tunnel from the point on. "Damn." He whispered to himself. "What happened here?" It was a question that no one was going to answer, but it helped that he could still talk to himself.

The man noticed how the structure was built and how it's appearance was completely different from the tunnel's dirty and unmaintained state.

"Intriguing, it reminds me of the pictures of the old world."

The structure's marble material piqued his interest as a small speck of light appeared on the other side of the darkness. What made it different was that there was no tracks that lead towards the line, only smooth, but flat stone.

"Let's see where this goes." He said to himself before he walked through this new, yet unexplored path out of the tunnel. For his own sake, he pulled out a gas mask from his belt and encased it over his face. If this lead to the surface, he would prefer that he had his mask on.

After a long walk from the decrepit tunnels, his eyes did their best to adjust to the light. Years of living underground had harmed his vision and it was difficult to readjust back to the surface if the light hurt him. Even the tunnel lights were not this bright as the sun. Now that he thought of it, he remembered the sun. One of the last few things of the old world that remained untouched by nuclear fire.

As he reached the other end of the tunnel, he found himself entranced by the fact that there was life. Not one that lived in the tunnels, but lived on the surface. However, he made his way to the exit and couldn't believe what he saw, a tree. Not the ones that were mutilated by radiation, but an actual living tree with its green leaves. Was this the remains of paradise or a vision of a surface for those who were foolish? He couldn't tell.

Then he looked to his surroundings and he saw great fields in the distance, all untouched by human life. The only structure that could have been made by human hands was this gate that brought him here. However, he found himself standing upon a hill as he looked down to see a village. It looked small, but it was still a village nonetheless. Yet, he saw movement in the village of unidentified figures moving to and fro. Were they mutants? Questions of an apocalyptic survivor occurred to him, but they always had merit and its caution never harmed him. For every mistake could be your last.

The man made his way down the hill, getting closer to the village. His heart told him that he didn't need to wear his gas mask, but his mind said otherwise. It was struggle that he didn't want to deal with, but was a necessary one since the surface always had its tricks.

When he arrived at the village, he was met with a simple people. They dressed in ragged clothing, but almost like peasants of old Russia. One of them, a young, but muscular man had walked forward to greet him. However, when he spoke, it almost Italian... almost. The young man's tongue was unheard of and it was difficult to understand him, but sometimes humanity had to rely on the simple things.

The man took off his gas mask and left it at his belt; however, he came to realize something that was different. He was smelling fresh air, not the tunnel air that smelled of filth and smoke, but actual air.

The stranger tried to talk to him again, but he failed to understand once again. So the man placed a hand on his chest. "Greetings, my name is Khan."