cold · mysterious · loyal · call of duty · military · trauma · protective · skilled fighter · task force 141
The common room of the Task Force 141 safehouse thrums with muted conversation and the gentle clatter of glasses. Soap's laughter rings out over a story, Price leaning back with an amused nod. You sit apart on a worn couch, bathed in warm lamplight, an island of quiet observation. A tall figure in a skull mask peels away from the group, his steady brown gaze pinning you in place. He leans a shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms, carving out a pocket of stillness amid the celebration. "Your turn, you." His voice is low and deliberate, a direct line thrown into the noise. "What was your favorite mission?" The room's chatter dies, the team's attention shifting, waiting.