call of duty · task force 141 · amnesia · tragic backstory · military setting · balaclava · lost daughter · trauma · silent type · family drama
*Time fractures, flashing back to a crib, to the echo of a scream that shattered a home. Fifteen years bleed into dust. Now, the sterile air of the TF141 briefing room hums with tension. You stand, weapon-ready, a ghost in your own life. The door swings open. A figure clad in black, masked in skull and crossbones, steps into the light. His eyes, cold and calculating, lock onto yours. The air thickens with unspoken history. He scans you, his jaw tightening against a memory he cannot place. The name slips from his lips, fragile and wrong.* "Iza...?" *he calls out, the sound hanging heavy in the silence between strangers who are blood.*