As the GUB came to a stop just outside the Old Ottawa Airfield's makeshift gates, the song "Vietnam Wizard" played over the airfield's speakers as the tension rose with the dismounting of the Sanctuarians. Dr. Sue, Oliver, the rest of her research team, and the female rougher cautious approached the gates. The Ghost, H, and two others approached the gate.
"That's far enough outsiders. State your business or die where you stand." Said an older man with snow white hair, a tired-looking, wrinkled face with cobalt blue eyes. Dr. Sue stepped forward. "Sir, my name is Dr. Madie Sue, head of Greyland Expeditionary Research and Defense Contractor of Chicago-Sanctuary. Might I know who I am addressing?" She asked, doing her best to hide her nervousness that comes when a group of people draw-down on uninvited guests.
"My name is Roland, head mechanic and comittee member of the Ottawan-Survivors Counsel. I am not the leader, just trying to be a voice of reason. Now, why in the name of Ike, did you roll up here? Even tribals avoid us, yet you, despite being told to "buzz off", in far my polite terms, fail to comply." Roland finished speaking, the Ottawans still awaiting these Sanctuarians' answer. Dr. Sue spoke up again. "We weren't aware there were settlements actively fighting against the tribals. We merely wanted to...". Before Dr. Sue could continue, the makeshift partially opened, allowing the Ghost, BAR pointed the Sanctuarians, to approach them.
"Tell me, Dr. Sue was? Tell me something. When society hit the collaspe button, where were you? What did the Sanctuarians do for those of us just trying to live out our lives?" The Ghost's glaring copper-eyed stare, pierced Dr. Sue's soul causing a chill to run down her spine. "I... I'm not sure." She replied uneasily. The Ghost's glare didn't stop. "I'll tell you. They looted, they rioted, burned cities to the ground, raized whole settlements to the ground all in the pursuit of "Sanctuary survival". Meanwhile... I've spend the better part of the last four years, eleven months...," The Ghost was now less than a foot from Dr. Sue, "...executing those who dared come to this place... my friendly city... seeking to rob us, loot, riot, and/or kill all of us." The Ghost's words broke any courage the researchers and rougher may have mustered.
"J-just who... what are you?" Stammered Dr. Sue. She backed up, only for the Ghost take a long, hard-planting step to her, his eyes full of rage. "Who am I? Well Doctor...", the Ghost lowered the BAR, before planting his leather boot onto the concrete with a soul-shattering thud, "...I am the Ghost of Ottawa, the one your people call "the Blood-Soaked Angel" and "the Scar-Covered Light." The Ghost took a long, deep breath before tilting his head slightly. "Will you choose peace woth us, Ottawans... or shall you and your team become more scars carved into my flesh as you're stacked on the mountain of corpses I've already stacked?"
It was as if a tidal wave of true fear ripped through the researchers and rougher. They were speechless, paralyzed by the Ghost's hyper-intense "Inquiry of Intentions", unable to even answer him. However, the tribals, who'd gotten pissed someone had destroyed their bus, decide it was smart to seek revenge. The hoots and pathetic attempts that could bearly be called a war cry came rushing toward the airfield. The Ghost growled behind his mask as he looked over his shoulder. "Roland, let them in. Keep guards on them... I'll handle this." The Ghost ordered, just before marching over to the Autowa, grabbing his fireaxe and sledgehammer. After he'd gathered his weapons, he marched toward the incoming enemies, while everyone stood watching.
"If these Sanctuarians truly want peace... time to show them what it is that I mean by... "tribal pacification"... No point in beating round this bush." Thought the Ghost as he took his defensive post atop "suicide hill". This was a long, steep with extremely sharp curves, high risk stretch of Ottawan road that had already claimed too many lives prior to society's collaspe. As a "riot-runner" Honda Civic raced toward the tops of suicide hill, the Ghost called out to the Sanctuarians. "WATCH AND LEARN, NEWBIES!" The Ghost opened fired his BAR on the incoming tribal scout car. The driver caught a .30-06 round to the head, and flipped down the hill, slamming into the bottom. "C'MON! COME AND GET SOME!" Yelled the Ghost, "YOU WON'T SURVIVE THE SHADOW OF THE FRIENDLY CITY! NEVER!"
As the Tribals pushed forward, the Ghost dropped the BAR and swapped over to his fireaxe and sledgehammer. Dr. Sue watched with the other Sancturarians either with intrigue or fear as the Ghost shredded through these repugnant, soulless tribals. However, Oliver, Dr. Sue's assistant, had... other... thoughts. "He's... protecting us?" Thought Oliver blushing at the thought. The twinkish lab assistant gazed at the Ghost with eyes wide, taking in this man's performance. Dr. Sue watched her assistant fall for this psychotic Grey-Dweller. She knew Oliver would routinely call himself "crazy", "...but on this day...", she thought worriedly. "Crazy, had just fallen in love with the hyper-loyal, psychotic broken soul."