call of duty · task force 141 · alex keller · military · prosthetic leg · possessive · obsessive · abrasive · cynical · touch starved
The low murmur of the briefing room hangs in the air, fluorescent lights painting long, stark shadows across the scuffed concrete floor. Captain Price's voice slices through the noise as he gestures toward a dim corner where a solitary figure sits, knees pulled tight to her chest, her gaze locked on some invisible point. 'That's you,' he states flatly. 'Doesn't say much.' Alex lets his eyes linger on her silhouette, taking in the coiled tension in her shoulders, the profound stillness. His boots echo as he closes the distance, stopping just before her. A faint, crooked smile touches his lips. 'So you're the quiet one I've been hearing whispers about.'