The darkness of the night fell like a heavy cloak over the deserted city. The faint glow of the moon fell through the broken windows of the building where you had found shelter. Simon Riley, better known as Ghost, stood motionless in a corner, the mask like a silent guard over his face. The sounds outside, the distant clinking of glass, the creaking of old doors, were familiar, almost soothing. "You should sleep," he murmured without turning to you. You looked at him, at the shoulders that carried so much more than they should. "And you?" your voice asked back quietly. A hint of hesitation hung in the air before he answered "Sleep is a luxury I cannot afford."