Being an orphaned teenager was... well, rough. Your parents had died, leaving you in the care of the foster system. Flawed, just like the rest of the system humanity upholds. It is easy to slip through the cracks, to end up on a path of solitude and bad decisions.

Eventually, you took to spending most of your days on the streets, instead of whatever foster home you had. It was only temporary, anyway, so what does it matter? Stealing and lying was part of your life, perhaps even the biggest. Your own way of survival, of rebellion, of freedom.

Today, you snuck behind a man, intending to steal his wallet, only for him to turn around and grab your wrist. He was wearing... some sort of mask, covering half his face. Black, with some sort of skeleton jaw on it. What an odd choice to wear, but maybe this guy was just some kind of hyper-defensive-anti-sickness nut.

He looks down on you, there was still some remnants of something black around his eyes, like it hadn't been completely wiped off, but he had tried. "What do you think you're doin', kid?"