A single spot of light shone in a sea of darkness. It stayed idle for a few moments, an intruder within this realm of perpetual stillness. The longer the light stayed, the more something within the darkness stirred. After a moment, it began to slowly grow in intensity until it had consumed the dark and only thought remained.
Sensation rushed through his body as long-decayed nerves were reconstructed in an instant. He opened his eyes to find the light blinding and breathed to find his lungs were out of practice. The movement of his hands felt foreign and awkward, as if something inhuman had gained control of them.
"Relax. Take it easy, you've been dead a long time." A disembodied voice spoke to him from the midst of the blinding light, only to reveal its owner as his vision cleared. Before him was a small, white machine with one blue eye. It was slightly larger than a baseball and was made up of eight smooth, triangular pieces that stemmed out from each other and surrounded the eye. It hovered in front of the newly reconstructed man and looked at him with something that resembled pride. Its one eye looked him up and down before meeting his gaze.
"Hu- who- what are you?" His voice came out in a rasp and his mouth didn't seem to want to form the words. He couldn't remember ever seeing anything like this little machine before now. In fact, he couldn't really recall how he came to be here either now that he thought about it. He didn't even know where he was. He tried to remember but his thoughts were interrupted by the odd little machine.
It floated closer to him and spoke in a rough but polite voice. "I'm a Ghost. Well, I'm your ghost now, I suppose." As it spoke, the pieces around its eye pulsed outward slightly and rotated around its frame. The man gave the "Ghost" a worried look before actually looking around, deciding to see where he was instead of letting his thoughts linger on the implications of the reply. What he saw astounded him.
Behind him was a crowd of rusted and forgotten cars that seemed to cover the endless stretch of road. Some had even spilled out into the fields of dry, brown grass that filled up most of his view. This, combined with the clear blue sky, bright sun, and distant mountains made for an astonishing view. It managed to calm him, or at the least bring him out of shock. Turning back around, the man saw a massive metal wall covered in rust behind the Ghost. Before him, stood the gate to the wall. It was sealed shut and appeared to have not opened in centuries.
"What is this place?" It was a simple question, but one that seemed important to him at the time.
The Ghost looked at him and explained to him in its oddly human voice, "You're in Old Russia. The Cosmodrome. Don't you remem-" It was cut off as an inhuman screech echoed from somewhere behind them. "We need to move. They're closer than I thought." It looked around quickly before looking at the man. "Come on, let's get moving." The Ghost closed the distance between them and disappeared in what looked like a cloud of pixels.
"What the- what happened?" He stuttered out his words as he tried to process what he had seen.
His confusion skyrocketed when the Ghost replied, its voice emanating from within his own thoughts. "I'm still here, don't worry. I'm with you now. To put it bluntly, I'm in your head." This did little to calm him and he began to stutter out another question before he was cut off by the Ghost. "I don't mean to be rude, but we really need to leave." A nearby howl accentuated his words. "Yeah…. Could you please hurry? I'd rather not die today." The mention of death got the man's feet moving as he rushed towards the closest structure: the rusted wall. He heard one last screech as he entered the structure through a small door beside the main gate. As he entered, the door creaked shut behind him and he was submerged in darkness.
The man fumbled around in the darkness, trying to get away from whatever had made that bone chilling screech. He could feel his heart thumping against his chest as the darkness seemed to consume him, bringing forth some primeval fear of the dark. He could feel a scream building up in his throat as he fell to his hands and knees. A single voice brought him back from the edge as a light appeared in front of him, giving him something to focus on. In front of him floated the Ghost, a light emanating from its eye. "Look at me. Focus on me. You've got to pull yourself together now or years of searching will have been for nothing." Its voice was stern, but held an undertone of compassion. "I know this is a lot to take in at once, but you have to pull yourself together or we won't leave this place." The man had quieted, but was still locked in place. The Ghost looked away and sighed. The man simply sat there and stared at the floating machine in silence, still terrified. When it looked back at the man and spoke again, the sternness had left its voice. "I'm sorry. I know this is a lot, but you need to calm down. We have to work together to get out of here. Tell me, what is your name?"
Surprised by the obscure yet simple question, the man looked at the Ghost quizzically for a moment. He then opened his mouth to answer, but couldn't force the words past his lips. He could still speak, it's just that the words were not there. He couldn't remember his own name. His gaze met that of the Ghost's. "Why can't I remember my name?" He tried to recall other things about himself as well, but nothing surfaced. Not his family, his home, or even how he came to rest outside of the rusted wall's gate. His words became panicked as he tried to get the Ghost to tell him why. It looked at him with a combination of pity and slight impatience before it replied.
"It's a side effect of the resurrection. You come back, but not your memories. Your personality is retained though and for some, the name does return with time. It's the trade-off."
He looked at it intensely for a moment. "Trade-off for what? You said that I was dead. If I was dead, then how and why am alive now? Why was I brought back?" His words sounded thin and desperate.
The Ghost looked at him and spoke in a voice that held its own amount of desperation. "To fight." It paused for a moment as the words hung in the air. "There is a war happening. A war on life itself that spans the solar system. A war between Light and Dark and the forces of the Light are dwindling. More people die every day, consumed by shadow." It paused again, its voice laden with sadness. "We Ghosts were tasked, years ago, with finding and recruiting soldiers, Guardians they're called, to protect everyone from the Darkness. They are to be the shield of the innocent and the sword of the Light. You are one such Guardian." Its words seemed to echo within his skull as he looked down at the ground in shock.
Beneath him was a small puddle of water. In it he saw himself for the first time. He hadn't noticed it until now, but he was wearing some kind of armor. It was made of a pristine white cloth and formed a sort of short robe over a grey combat uniform. Staring back at him from his reflection was a helmet. It was smooth and covered his entire head. It had a large, rectangular visor in the center of it that was as black as the room beyond the Ghost's light. It shocked him at first, but, oddly, the armor comforted him. It felt right, as if he was meant to wear armor, to be a Guardian.
Another screech sounded from outside, but this time he felt no fear. No, he felt something different. He felt anger and a burning sense of hate that was directed at whatever had made the sound. He looked back up at the Ghost with a new fervor and spoke with a voice filled with grim determination. "When do I start?"
Despite its lack of a mouth, the Ghost seemed to smile. "First, we'll need to find you a gun."