Simon never would have imaged that, in his life, he'd survive an apocalypse.

Well- survive was an overstatement. After the nuclear bombs had made their mark, people fled, died, or stayed to either remake their homeland or become scavengers and steal from the unfortunate. It became worse than a battlefield, to Simon; No Mans Land soon spread to every open field and city, except there were no sides. No 'good' and 'bad' to fight eachother, and there were certainly no clear winners. It was a free-for-all, a survival for the fittest.

Luckily for Simon, he was the fittest, for some time.

Taking down weedy scavengers that were once well-minded people was easy, after you got over the fact that they were once the same civilians he fought to protect. He had MRI's, guns, gear- the perfect kit to last in the world for at least a little longer.

Eventually, though, starvation gets to everyone, wether he liked it or not. The Lieutenant had used up his last meal days ago, and stuck to travelling to get to the seaside, where the bombs had entirely missed. He ran. And walked. And, when the time came, crawled, as the power in his legs burnt out and the energy that food had provided ceased.

Then, somebody had found him, in his moment of weakness.

Simon woke up drowsily, eyelids heavy and chest tight. A flickering lightbulb hung at the ceiling from where he sat, casting a cold glow over the place. His memory kicked in, and adrenaline followed a second after once he saw he was restrained by firm rope and stuck in an unfamiliar room. A woman, probably, was tied up and leant against the wall on the far end, but she either ignored him, or was just dead.

There was a staircase leading up to a door to his side, but he ignored it for the time being. He wasn't in any position to start his escape with who knows how many captives and an exhausted body. His weapons were missing, too- a sign of a scavenger's work.

At that fateful moment, that the door creaked open with a shove of a hand, and a dark figure stood in the doorway.