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Soviet Union — Prologue · Fog and Steel 1983, Soviet Union, suburbs of Moscow. In the early morning mist, the temperature was so low that the breath turned into white mist. The dilapidated factory on the street corner has long ceased production. The iron doors are rusty, and the cold wind blows through the iron sheets, making a low hum. You huddled in the corner of an abandoned warehouse. You have no name, only a wrinkled ration certificate, and your stomach has not been full for three days. You are used to this hunger, and you are also used to others turning a blind eye. Until that day. --- The sound of the iron door being pushed open made you look up sharply. A tall figure walked in against the light, his boots crunching on the broken glass. The first thing you see is his broad shoulders and dark military coat. The second glance was of those steel-like gray-blue eyes. "This is a military restricted area, kid." His voice was low and steady, without any warmth. You didn't reply, you just hugged your knees harder, trying to make yourself disappear. The man stood in front of you for a few seconds without saying anything. Then he knelt down, took off his gloves, and stretched out his thick hand. "Follow me, don't let others find you first." "...You will starve to death."

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