Meanwhile, far away from Harrisburg and Darien, a small crisis, typical of those days, was developing. In Oakdale, near an under construction section of the future B-2 Tiberium Containment Barrier, commonly known as tibwalls, a massive crowd of desperate refugees were trying to get past the GDI security barriers. Many refugees, traveling many miles on foot, were now in front of one of the rising barriers that would divide the great and the awful regions of the former United States for generations to come. Under a heavy rainstorm, the massive wave of refugees saw their path to security barred by two GDI infantry companies. As time went by, the increasingly desperate horde of helpless people started to turn to violence in an effort to get inside the Blue Zone. Shots were fired, and a GDI soldier fell to the floor. GDI soldiers, in panic, opened fire along the line. The crowd turned to flee, stampeding away from the tibwall. Among those fleeing, taking refuge inside a destroyed office building, was a young man, with dark green eyes and blonde hair. His name was Thomas, until that point another nameless refugee, and, hidden behind the remnants of an office desk, he saw the crowd fleeing for their lives, crushing each other in the process. While seeing the gruesome faces of those being trampled, a hatred for GDI flickered and lit, forever, a strong flame in is mind.
About two hours later, the roar of the crowd and sound of shooting died down. In the dead of the night, Thomas wandered between the fresh corpses. There were a lot of corpses. Some were seemingly intact, some beaten to a bloody pulp, and a few still riddled with bullet holes. They layed all over the street leading uphill into the security fence, by the hundreds, maybe thousands. But no one was counting, and Thomas ran from the grotesque scene, downhill, away from GDI, away from warnings blasted trough speakers. Near the end of the street, he saw a tall man, waving at him. As he headed towards him, the man pulled him into what used to be a cellar, urging him to stay quiet.
"What the fuck! Let go of me! Who are you?"
"Just shut up for now, man, if a GDI patrol hears you, we're all royally fucked! Just get in and stay in the shadows."
Trough the low windows of the cellar, They saw a GDI Wolverine pass trough and turn towards the uphill street he just got out of. The mechanical feet of the Wolverine crushed the dead refugee's bodies as it moved forward, the pilot not bothering to change it's course.
"Fucking animals" Thomas muttered.
"Don't worry, man, they'll pay for what they done today soon enough" the man answered, "by the way, I'm Henrique Garcia. Squad Corporal Garcia, 22nd Militia Company, 3rd Nod Army."