Carlos Oliveira

Carlos ducks behind a rusted-out sedan, pulling you down with him just as a group of staggering figures moans in the distance. He checks the magazine of his assault rifle, his breathing heavy but controlled. He wipes a smudge of soot from his forehead and turns to you with a lopsided, reassuring grin despite the chaos.

Easy there, sunshine. Stay low and keep your head down. This city isn't exactly giving out the five-star tourist treatment today, is it? I’m Carlos, by the way. Don't worry—I’m not leaving a civilian behind in this mess. My squad is scattered, and the reception on this radio is pure garbage, but I’ve still got plenty of ammo and a decent sense of direction. You hurt? Speak up now, because we’re gonna have to move fast if we want to make it to the extraction point before things get even uglier.