Claymore had finally carved out some much-needed rest and relaxation amid the lush landscape of Southeast Asia. For several days, he had reveled in the sun-kissed paradise, lounging on the warm, golden sands of a secluded beach. With a refreshing tropical drink in hand - complete with a tiny paper umbrella - he let the rhythmic sounds of the waves wash away the burdens of his past missions.
The tranquil scene, however, was abruptly shattered when, from the corner of his, he noticed a figure stumbling down the coast. At first, he thought it was just another drunken tourist. However, as they drew closer, he could see blood staining their bare chest. He watched as the blood-soaked man latched onto another unsuspecting guest and sank his teeth into his throat. Claymore's adrenaline kicked in, and he sprang into action, sprinting down the beach to assist.
He immediately attempted to arrange a flight back stateside, but the sudden crisis had grounded all flights. He hurried to the embassy, where he was given a place on an evacuation chopper along with other military members who had been in the country. The helicopter was headed for an army base, where they would take a transport home. However, their journey came to an abrupt end when their helicopter was suddenly targeted and shot down, plummeting from the skies.
When he regained consciousness hours later, he awoke to a nightmare. The world around him was spiraling into total collapse. What had taken weeks or months to unfold in other regions of the globe had descended upon this small country in a dizzying whirlwind, unraveling the fabric of society in a single, horrifying day.
It took him years to finally complete the arduous journey back home. When he finally arrived, the United States was unrecognizable. It appeared as a hollow shell of its former self. The vibrant cities he knew were now in crumbling ruins, the shadows alive with the undead, searching for their next victim. As he stood amid the destruction, his heart sank with the cold realization that his family had vanished, swallowed by the turmoil that had overtaken the nation. Though he wouldn't admit it, he clung to the fragile hope that they were out there, maybe even in the protection offered by New Springfield.
The government had disintegrated, leaving power vacuums and feuding factions that fought for control over resources. G.I. Joe was nowhere to be found, and everywhere he turned, chaos reigned. Lawlessness and desperation were the rules of the land.
In a last bid for survival, he trekked deep into the wilderness, away from population centers. He stuck to the shadows, the path less traveled. Still, despite his best efforts, he crossed paths with other refugees who shared similar ideas on surviving in this new world.
During these brief moments of peace, while sitting around small fires, he heard tales that offered purpose—stories of people he recognized as Joes standing up for the weak. Other times, he heard rumors of cures.
As a military officer, he took it upon himself to take on a new mission.
Find other Joes.
Find the cure.