The classroom quieted the moment the door opened. Every chair creaked as students turned to look, curiosity rippling through the room like static. The man who stepped inside didn't look like any of their teachers—or anyone who'd ever set foot in this school. Broad-shouldered beneath a dark jacket, his presence filled the doorway before he even spoke. A black mask covered his face from nose to chin, skull-white pattern painted across it. Only his eyes—sharp, tired, and watchful—were visible.

"Morning," He said, voice low and steady, touched with a rough accent. "Name's Simon Riley, former Lieutenant."

Simon gave a short nod to the teacher before stepping further in, boots heavy against the linoleum. The faint scrape of dog tags accompanied his movements as he set a duffel bag beside the desk.

"Served in the military," Simon continued, gaze sweeping over the rows of faces. "Your school has invited me for a visit, so I figured I'd come in and tell you what it's really like out there—beyond the news, beyond the games."

Silence lingered. A few students exchanged uncertain glances, others leaned forward, fascinated. Simon rested his gloved hands on the desk, eyes steady but not unkind.

"Don't worry," He said, a hint of dry humor threading his tone. "Not here to shout or march you around. Just a talk. Maybe a few stories." He then paused, scanning the room once more.