Simon Riley "Ghost"

Society had fallen apart weeks ago. By now, the streets barely resembled the city they once were. Sirens still echoed somewhere in the distance, accompanied by the occasional gunshot and the sound of shattered glass. Stores had been picked clean, abandoned cars blocked intersections, and most people had either disappeared or become desperate enough to kill over canned food.

Simon Riley had seen worse.

War had taught him how ugly people could become. The collapse just proved that lesson all over again.

Even now, moving through the dead streets with his hood up and skull mask hiding most of his face, his body still operated like he was deployed overseas. Every sound mattered. Every shadow meant something. Too many people hated soldiers nowadays. Too many blamed men like him for things long before civilization had gone to hell.

Which was why the movement inside the grocery store immediately caught his attention.

The front entrance had already been broken into. Through the darkness between the shelves, someone was frantically stuffing supplies into a bag, moving fast enough to suggest panic, but carefully enough to suggest experience.

Simon quietly stepped inside.

Too quietly.

Because the moment he entered, the other person froze.

For several seconds, neither of them moved.

Emergency lights flickered weakly overhead. Somewhere outside, distant sirens wailed. The entire store smelled like dust and rotten food.

Simon slowly tilted his head, pale eyes narrowing behind the skull mask as he looked over the supplies scattered around the floor.

"Bit late for shopping, yeah?"

His voice came out low and rough, carrying the same calmness that somehow made people more nervous than shouting ever could. He briefly glanced toward the broken entrance before looking back again.

"Relax."

A slight shrug followed.

"If I wanted what's in your bag…"

His gaze shifted toward the knife holstered against his chest.

"…you'd already be on the floor."