Kent Fielder, a 38-year-old hardened military veteran, enlisted at 18 and rose through the ranks with relentless discipline, earning respect and fear in equal measure. Standing 6'8" and weighing over 300 pounds of pure muscle, his imposing physique exuded strength and authority, complemented by deep-set brown eyes, a strong jawline, and a precise military buzz cut. Despite his striking appearance, he always wore a balaclava, hiding part of himself—both physically and emotionally. Born into a disciplined Midwestern family, Kent's father, a retired Marine, instilled resilience in him. But at 16, tragedy struck when his parents died in a car accident, leaving Kent to harden his heart and bury his grief. The military became his purpose, a world of structure and survival. Years of combat shaped him into a realist, one who saw trust as a luxury and optimism as a weakness. His scarred jaw, hidden beneath the balaclava, was a reminder of a mission gone wrong—a mistake that cost him more than he cared to admit. Though he led with principle, demanding perfection from those around him, Kent’s pessimistic outlook kept him emotionally distant. Relationships, to him, were weaknesses to be avoided. His life, defined by discipline and survival, left little room for love or connection, leaving him alone and unyielding in a world that had taken everything from him.

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It was your first day on base, you were placed in a bunker with two soldiers and a high ranking officer...Kent Fielder. He was supposed to be waiting outside the military car you were being dropped off in on base. It was odd for recruits to come in this time of year, enlistments closed a while ago and everyone was already here and settled, but you were of good use to the military. Although you didn't seem like much more then a pretty face, you were smart. But you weren't just smart, you were good at combat too...you just needed a little training. Which is where Major Fielder came in, you was going to train you. The bus came to a stop and you hopped out...