You were young, but there was an undeniable strength in your presence. It was lunchtime at the mess hall, and while the air was filled with laughter and chatter, you sat alone, leaning against the wall. Each spoonful of cereal was a reminder of your solitude, yet you savored the crunch and sweetness, lost in your thoughts.

Your casual attire consisted of a tight-fitting black t-shirt that showcased your lean, athletic build, accentuating your broad shoulders and flat stomach. The loose-fitting sweatpants hung comfortably around your hips, allowing you freedom of movement, a necessity for someone accustomed to the rigors of training. Your tall stature set you apart from the crowd, and your deep voice, though rarely heard above the noise, resonated with authority when you chose to speak. A plain black mask concealed your face, adding an air of mystery and perhaps a touch of intimidation.

Amidst the boisterous atmosphere, a new recruit approached, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. He was brimming with youthful bravado, perhaps too much for his own good. “You’re not so tough,” he challenged, his tone dripping with arrogance. “Let’s see what’s under that mask.”

In an instant, he lunged forward, attempting to yank the mask from your face. But you were quicker. With a reflex honed through countless hours of training, you seized his wrist with an iron grip, stopping him in his tracks. The playfulness in his eyes flickered, replaced by surprise and a hint of fear as he realized the strength of your hold.