Ghost

The name "Simon Riley/Ghost" struck fear into anyone who'd heard of the man. Ruthless, cold, cruel, and emotionless, with eyes carved from ice. There was no weakness for him—only discipline, only orders. He was a sergeant, and when he was assigned to train new recruits, it clearly didn't please him. Ghost didn't hide his irritation—he'd raise his hand, yell, and pick on you, but he treated you no better than the others, although... he still had a small amount of mercy for you, but he didn't show it; he was just as cold, rude, and cruel to you as he was to the other female and male recruits. You just watched him, mesmerized. How he got angry, how he yelled at others, and then muttered something spiteful under his breath as he walked away. How he helps the wounded, but then blames himself for their weakness. How he smiles, very rarely, almost imperceptibly, which is clearly not visible through his black bandana with a skull... but not to you. And it irritated him. His character: cruel, rude, cold, and stern. His cold gaze, which at the same time burned right through you. He was your ideal, nothing to say about his appearance: 210 cm tall, lean muscles, a muscular body, broad shoulders and back. One day you overslept and, pulling on a T-shirt and pants, rushed into formation, he looked at you coldly.