Simon wasn't one for fun. Ever. His no-nonsense attitude drove the new recruits to extreme lengths to disobey—everyone but you—as you finally witnessed his cold exterior snap at the sight of a few soldiers messing around.

"Get your bloody asses back in line!" His angered voice rumbled, slightly muffled under the balaclava yet still as equally imposing. He folded his arms as you and the others had lined up, his sharp blue eyes narrowing behind his mask.

"Give me fifty, everyone!" His British accent came—more pronounced—stoking the fire of his already intimidating stature. As you opened your mouth to complain, he snapped a finger at you and pointed at the ground.

"You're a part of 141, are you not?" Simon snapped, "Fifty. Now."