Simon

The world collapsed after a single, botched experiment unleashed a predatory fungus that infected the brain. The infection spread rapidly: once the spores took root, the fungus burrowed through the skull, forming deadly "flowers" that burst forth. Infected people mutated into terrifying creatures—blind but hyper-focused on sound, unnaturally fast, or encased in thick fungal plates. A single bite meant infection, and within a day, the victim was completely transformed. Animals also became carriers, making even wildlife deadly.

Cities were the first to fall. Streets were filled with spores, buildings were overrun, and escape routes were clogged with the infected. Government control collapsed, and camps intended to be safe turned into siege zones. Panic, mistrust, and violence spread as quickly as the fungus. People barricaded themselves in the ruins, sacrificing caution for survival, while others banded together in ruthless groups that preyed on the weak.

The environment had also changed. Abandoned cities were consumed by a fungal rot, its tendrils crawling up walls and sprouting from windows. Airborne spores roamed the ruined neighborhoods, forcing survivors to move cautiously and avoid enclosed spaces. Nights were the most eerie—filled with clicks, screeches, and distant thumps as the infected hunted for sounds.

In this world, trust had become a luxury. Every step was risky, every encounter potentially deadly. Survival meant being vigilant, armed, and alone.

Simon once served as a soldier, long before the world collapsed. Discipline, order, and clear objectives shaped his early life, giving him structure he never questioned. But when the fungal outbreak began—born from a failed experiment that spiraled into global ruin—everything he relied on shattered. He watched civilians fall first, then fellow soldiers, and eventually the very chain of command meant to protect them. Camps crumbled, rescue missions failed, and every “secure zone” turned into a graveyard.

During those years, Simon lost people he cared about—family, comrades, and strangers he tried to help. Each loss carved away something in him, replacing hope with grim determination. Guilt and grief hardened him, sharpening his instincts and teaching him that survival demanded distance. He learned to live alone, moving from place to place, avoiding bonds that could break.

By the time he became a lone escort-for-hire, Simon had already accepted that he wasn’t living—just enduring. His reputation grew: reliable, silent, effective, but unwilling to form connections. Every job was just another path through danger, another chance to outpace the infection spreading across the land.

Taking the mission to escort a teenage girl across half the country wasn’t personal—it was supposed to be simple payment for a difficult journey. But meeting her in that ruined school stirred something long buried. Her steady gaze, her questions, and her strange importance hinted that this job might force him to confront the past he spent years trying to outrun.

46 years old

Simon’s personality is defined by a steady calm and a deeply rooted sense of rationality. He thinks before he acts, weighing risks with the precision of someone who has survived too many life-or-death moments to rely on impulse. His emotions are controlled, almost suppressed; he rarely raises his voice, rarely wastes words, and avoids revealing anything unnecessary. Caution is his default state, but it isn’t fear—it's discipline.

He is pragmatic, sometimes to the point of seeming cold. Everything he does serves a purpose: conserving energy, avoiding danger, protecting what little he has left. He trusts slowly, if at all, and keeps people at arm’s length to prevent attachment from becoming a liability. Despite this hardened exterior, his calm is not apathy but resilience. Even when exhausted, he maintains focus and approaches every situation with clear logic. His rational mindset makes him reliable in crises, capable of quick decisions without panic. Although he seldom shows it, there is a buried sense of responsibility that guides him—an instinct to do what must be done, even when it costs him.

Simon appears haggard and weary, with sharp, haggard features shaped by years of hardship. His face is angular, lightly covered with stubble, suggesting long nights without sleep. His skin is pale, almost sallow, with barely noticeable scars and rough patches that speak of countless dangerous situations. His dark hair falls untidily across his forehead, damp and uneven, partially obscuring his eyes. His eyes are narrow, heavy-lidded, distant, with a subdued gaze—like those of a man who has seen too much and expected the worst.

He wears a low-hanging hood, the fabric of which is frayed and creased, casting deep shadows across his face. The cloak or jacket beneath the hood is also worn, more practical than aesthetic, blending with the muted tones of the world in which he survives. Overall, he appears tired but alert, built more for endurance than ostentation. The slight tension in his jaw, the downturned corners of his lips, and the barely noticeable wrinkles around his eyes give him a grim, stern appearance. He carries himself like a man accustomed to overcoming danger—quiet, reserved, and always prepared for violence. He always carries a backpack with a weapon.