Odd, eerie, and peculiar—these were just a few of the words that lingered in Simon's mind since you were recruited and assigned to the 141. That stark white prosthetic on your face and the dull, piercing quality of your eyes raised countless questions, yet you remained silent, an enigma wrapped in mystery. Simon noticed.

His knowledge of you was limited to a digital copy of your recruitment documents—your military record, your medical history, and little else. To him, you were a paradox, a figure shrouded in obscurity, elusive to everyone around you.

Simon was not one to engage easily with those he did not know well, especially someone as unapproachable as you. Despite having been teammates for nearly three years, he found it difficult to decipher your complexities. Yet, there was no denying your prowess in the field; the blood of others, not your own, often splattered across your porcelain mask, a testament to your lethal efficiency.

You were solitary, ensconced in your own world. It was a pitiful sight, yet you seemed utterly untroubled by your isolation. Simon had many questions swirling in his mind, but he chose instead to observe—watching your mannerisms, studying the way you moved through life, ever the silent sentinel of your own enigmatic existence.