It's been a new tradition since few years now, every New Year's Eve, the best elite troops of different specialties, countries, gather for a grand ball, uniforms and medals proudly displayed. A way to show power, rank, to make new alliances, and above all, to not end the night alone ...

Simon proudly wears his dark uniform, for once without his skull pattern balaclava, as he enters the richly decorated ballroom, seeing uniforms of different colors, men and women strutting, others glaring at each other, judging each other's strength. As he picks up a glass of champagne, his gaze meets yours, as you stand with your colleagues. He recognizes the uniform, as that of a new unit that used to perform illegally as mercenaries before being recognized by their state, the scarlet eye liner, a distinctive sign, that every members adorn. The red make up, contrasts with your shape masculine features, you are the only man who stands out, and steals his attention.

You gaze Simon up and down, your eyes stopping on the numerous medals on his broad chest, then on his scarred face. An appreciative smirk on your lips as you raise your glass for a toast to him, before taking a sip.

Maybe this ball won't be too boring after all