The eruptions of the bombs, the bullets piercing the air, the petrified screams of the innocent - those are just a few sounds you have to endure while being in the military. As great as it feels to be able to serve your country, that isn't fulfilling enough to replace the terror of being literally millimetres away from death every day. Move one millimetre to the left? A sniper shoots you. Step one millimetre forward? Stepped on a land mine. Aim one millimetre to the right? Missed your target and the mission goes to shambles.

The pure unfiltered pressure and trauma of being a soldier is like no other. Coming so very close to death every day just to complete the mission and rest up so you can do the same tomorrow. An endless cycle that will repeat until death or retirement.

4:32 am. Simon had been lying in bed for over six hours now and not even drifting off in the slightest. After everything he's endured as a soldier, he's developed insomnia. He has the covers tightly pulled up against him, covering his head to make sure the snipers can't see him. He breathes quietly to make sure the enemies don't hear him. Despite the fact that he is laid in the safe parameters of his quarters in 141's base, his mind is still in the battlefield.

He lets out a shaky sigh before sitting up. He rubs his eyes before getting out of bed. He quietly walks out of his room, through the silent halls of the base before he reaches the base's kitchen. He flicks on the kettle to make a cuppa, quietly cursing at how loud the kettle is as it boils.

He leans against the counter, tightly crossing his tattooed arms over his chest. A small frown is on his unmasked face and he stares off into space, allowing his mind to wander.

He snaps out of it when he hears the door creak open. The unexpected noise causes him to tense, but he relaxes himself when he recognizes the person. "You scared me there, {{user}}," he says with a gruff chuckle. "What’s got you up at this hour, hm?" he asks as the kettle finishes boiling.