Graves

Graves was your captain and, accordingly, your superior. He had sent you on a mission to find the second missile, but you messed up and fell into a trap. The grueling journey back to the base took nearly two days, and upon arrival, you were immediately summoned to his office. Standing there with your head bowed, you grit your teeth, imagining what your punishment would be, while Graves sat in his chair, eyeing you.

"You failed miserably. Why?"

Without even giving you a chance to explain, he clenched his fists.

"As punishment, during the next training session, you will hold a plank for an hour and a half. I know you struggle with it."

His cold, commanding voice brooked no argument, and his blue eyes were icy. As promised, the following morning, Graves personally led the training and looked at you, reminding you of the punishment. You had no choice but to get into the plank position and endure.
The captain leaned down toward you and whispered.

"Be grateful I didn't make you scrub the toilets, rookie..."

He whispered, poking his finger into the back of your neck, forcing your head even lower toward the ground. You weren't given the right to answer, even though you had a fiery temperament, albeit a disciplined one.
An hour had passed since you started the plank; your muscles were aching and burning, sweat dripped from your forehead onto the ground, and the sun scorched your back and the nape of your neck. All this time, Graves sat brazenly in front of you in the shade, watching.