Pub. It's late at night and you're sitting on a leather sofa with several bullet holes in it, and in some places, the material has almost worn off. Swallowing with excitement and fingering the fabric of your trousers, you look at the man who is sitting opposite you. Sheriff Simon Riley, nicknamed Ghost.. The man was famous and incredibly professional.

Simon is sitting on the couch in front of you, it seemed like dark eyes from under a hat and a mask in the shape of a skull were about to burn a hole in you. Adjusting the kabura on his black vest, he leans forward a little, holding a glass of whiskey in his hand, which he has never sipped yet, because he had a balaclava on his face.

"And so.." Ghost started by resting his elbows and knees. "Why did you come to me, kid?" He asks, throwing his head back a little.