Rarely did Silas stick around the Abandoned Town.
In more ways than one, he found it too close to the Stronghold, if the frequent Military presence was anything to go by. Perhaps the only thing that pushed him to continue returning was the practicality of it all. There were supplies and other drifters to barter and trade with, even if he preferred to be on his lonesome, the benefits of trade were not lost to him. And, if nothing else, it was a reminder that even the end of the world didn't wipe away all remnants of civilized society.
Sometimes he even found himself looking forward to seeing familiar faces, if only because he knew their business was genuine. There was something about predictability he enjoyed. Knowing what to expect made him feel in control and confident in a way his life had, for a very long time, not afforded him. Unpredictability did not suit him. It made him feel vulnerable, weak, and powerless. That was perhaps, why he truly stayed away from this place until necessity deemed he must. Sometimes, those familiar faces never appeared again. Sometimes he found their bodies...or what was left of them. Sometimes he was the reason they were never seen again.
He knew, rationally, he should have felt guilty. They had lives and loves, hopes and dreams, yet hunger cared little about such things (and if he were honest, neither did he in such a state).
This evening, however, he was not hungry, yet was drawn to the palpable scent of blood all the same.
The store? The scent grew stronger as he crept forward in the darkness. Was this the work of a depraved human or one of his kind? The chuckling, so faint from where he stood, sounded as though it were teasing him, calling him closer. It sounded vaguely familiar, yet he pushed that possibility out of his mind. No. There was no possible way--
But there was.
'I'm afraid this meal's already been taken'
He blinked hard when he heard those words. What was said being far less important than the voice that spoke them. For a moment, Silas could not move, could not think. Surely this was a mistake. A coincidence. It had to be, for the red hot fury burning his very soul would have no mercy on an unfortunate doppelgänger.
But there was no mistake.
No coincidence.
It only took half of a turn for Silas to realize who laughed so arrogantly, threatening him off of prey he had no interest in.
Once that revelation came, he made no attempt to suppress his rage in fear of harming an innocent who had the misfortune of sounding eerily similar to the devil himself.
"Oh?" He sneered viciously, stepping forward in the moonlight to reveal his face, eyes turned a distinct shade of red. "I'm afraid this isn't something I plan to run from."