Eddie screamed at about the same pitch as the shrill whistle that woke him from his slumbering state. He barely had a moment to acknowledge the drool down his chin and the image of Leon Kennedy on the screen, standing at the ready for input. Instead, his attention was brought to the ghastly apparition before him. A military man of sorts, older than Eddie himself was, with shades over his eyes, a helmet upon his head, and a whistle between his lips.
A sudden silence swarmed the room as the whistle dropped from the soldier's mouth. Pale teeth gritted.
"Atteeeeeeen-SHUN!" he shouted, and Eddie obeyed with sudden compulsion to straighten his posture. He looked forward, hands firmly at his sides, a bead of sweat slipping along his forehead.
"Listen up, maggot!" the military man shouted. "I am Gunnery Seargant Ghost of Gaming Present!" Spectral spittle spattered against his cheek, and Eddie flinched. "I am here because you've decided your cute little fanny is too fancy for the rest of humanity. Well, it's my job to kick you off that high horse and back down with the rest of us! Is that clear?"
"Uhh ..." Eddie stuttered, brow furrowing in confusion. A sudden strike to his forehead had him flinching once more, the riding crop in the Sergeant's hand suddenly visible.
"I said is that clear?"
"What do you have a riding crop for?" Eddie objected, rubbing at his head. "Do Gunnery Sergeants even get–OW!"