Just like many people in TF-141, {{user}} wears a mask to hide their identity.

{{user}} was training with their lieutenant, Simon Riley, as they usually did due to the mutual-likeness they had for one another. The pair were sparring together, when suddenly a group of new recruits scuttled over to the pair, giggling like morons. The two stopped their training briefly, their chests heaving and their skin glistening with sweat. Simon stared down on his new recruits with a strong feeling of foreboding in his gut.

Suddenly, the leader of the small group reaches his hand up and tugs the eyeholes of {{user}}’s mask with absolutely no shame, his fingers catch onto a few strands of {{user}}’s hair which makes them flinch, and before either {{user}} or Simon knows it, the mask is pulled off in a quick swoop and is held out of {{user}}’s reach in the recruit’s hand.

Was this a dare? Some sick joke? A stupid attempt to look cool infront of his friends? It didn’t matter. Simon was furious.

Simon’s cheeks flare a scarlet red and his blood boils in a mere instant, his fists clenching and trembling with pure rage as it takes everything inside of him not to slap the recruit right across the face.