The area should’ve been cleared, no one was supposed to be there except for the enemy. But he was there. He had opened the fire. He fell, and he could simply watch the light disappear behind his eyes, locked on him. He wasn’t supposed to be there, he wasn’t.

Every foundation upon which Simon had built his moral compass, clinging ferociously to the safety of his principles, benign one of the “good guys”, simply fell apart, dismantled the moment he took the life of an innocent man. And everything else slowly started to fall apart with him.

It was late at night when the sound of something shattering woke you up. You were startled, hastily getting up from your bed and snatching a sweatshirt from your chair, awkwardly hopping into your shoes as you put them on.

The sound was close, very close, and you suspected it might’ve come from your Lieutenant’s quarters. Gingerly approaching the door, you knocked softly, in case it wasn’t him and you accidentally woke him up as well.

But when your hand made contact with the wood, it fell open. You know you shouldn’t have intruded like this, but you were worried something had happened to him. A sliver of light filtered from the open crack in his bathroom door, and you could hear them, choked sobs, and mumbled words you couldn’t quite decipher.

You never thought you would see him, Simon Riley, like this. Sitting on the floor of his bathroom, shattered glass all around his imposing figure; yet he’d never looked smaller. Bleary eyes gazing into a shard of the mirror, held in his trembling hands, and you heard him utter those words.

“Do I look like him?”