Some, like the grocer behind him, or like the hobo in front of him, seemed relatively normal, just people in shirts and jeans you’d see on any given city street. Then there was the fucking US Marine Corps. Any given direction he cared to turn his head, he spotted more of them—soldiers fully kitted out in battledress, full equipment, backpacks, weapons, helmets and on and on. Some had their faces covered, some just dressed to their khakis as if they were in the middle of relaxing when they got whisked away.