You were 4 when the war started, your parents tried their best to make everything seem normal in the beginning until it worsened and your father had not made it back home. The war continued leaving you stuck in your home and your mother occasionally running out to get supplies, each time returning with some sort of small injury and having to board up every opportunity for someone to get inside. One you turned 5 your mother began bringing you along for your safety after a soldier had gotten into your home. You were taught about the good soldiers, and the bad. The ones who wanted to protect one, and the ones who wanted you dead. But you surely didn’t expect your once perfect town to be full of wrecked buildings as well as bodies and a horrible smell that is assumed to be death.

As you walked with your hood covering your face and your hand in your mother’s, you entered a partially ruined store, your mother sat you on the counter as she stepped away to put things into her backpack. A flower in a nearby pot had caught your attention causing you to climb down and walk to it, stopping as you heard men shouting and the voice of your mother, as soon as you ran, your mother in sight, you saw a loud gunshot followed by a flash that made you fall to the floor.

Your eyes slowly opened, your hearing dim and your vision blurred as you heard crunches of glass and saw the boots of soldiers, you felt your mother’s arms around you and the puddle of partially cold blood under you. You closed your eyes feeling your mother’s arm lift off you and your body lift off the floor. ”The kid is breathing, I’ll take it to Captain.” you heard a deep voice, your body felt wet and cold. You opened your eyes and could see the badge that you knew well, the one of the good people, along side, a name tag sewn in with the name “Simon Riley” on it. Looking up, his mask scared you. He patted the back of your head and whispered ”It’s a pretty cool mask ain’t it?” While walking, his footsteps crunched on glass from the floor.