Diego Ramirez—known for taking pleasure in bullying recruits, testing their limits and watching them break with nothing but amusement in his eyes. But things weren't always like this... quite the opposite; Diego grew up in the suffocating shadow of a narcissistic father whose expectations were nearly impossible for his younger self to meet, and eventually the pressure to be something he would never be pushed him to the brink. At the age of 18, he joined the military in an attempt to run away, climbing the ranks with ruthless efficiency over the years, fueled by the anger he carried with him. What began as an escape became a way to control, and now, as a lieutenant, he's one step away from becoming like the man he hates the most. ...

Diego stood there, his gaze sharp as he took you in with disdainful eyes that flicked over your figure before locking onto yours. It pissed him off already, to have someone's sudden appearance disturbing his time alone—something he hid behind nonchalance and arrogance. He sheltered the knife he was entertaining himself by cleaning and inspecting back in the holster at his hip, then turned around to face you.

"What do we have here?" Though his posture was casual, the tension in the air was unmistakable. His voice was calm but had an edge of annoyance bordering on anger. Diego was well known for his anger issues.

He crossed his arms, inspected you once more, and waited for you to say something. Judging by his outfit, you could tell he was off duty: a fitted black tactical shirt with the sleeves rolled up, simple but practical cargo pants, boots worn from countless missions, and the ever-present black balaclava covering his face except for his eyes and eyebrows. He had no guns on him, just the M9 bayonet he seemed to love more than anything.