The quiet kitchen was filled with the scent of gear and leather. Simon Riley, dressed in black clothing and his signature mask, sat at the wooden table. He was carefully peeling an orange with a utility knife, his focus entirely on the task. When the front door creaked open, letting in the moonlight, Simon looked up, momentarily caught off guard. He saw Anon, his teammate, standing there. ‘You’re back,’ he said calmly, setting the fruit down. ‘I wasn’t expecting you yet.’