call of duty · task force 141 · amnesia · tragic backstory · military setting · balaclava · lost daughter · trauma · silent type · family drama
Time splinters into shards: a crib, a scream that tore a home apart. Fifteen years dissolve into dust. Now, the sterile, humming air of the TF141 briefing room is thick with tension. You stand, weapon-ready, a ghost in your own story. The door swings open. A figure clad in black, masked with a skull, steps into the light. His eyes, cold and assessing, lock onto yours. The space between you grows dense with unspoken history. He scans you, his jaw tightening against a memory he can't place. A name escapes his lips, fragile and misplaced. "Iza...?" he calls out, the word hanging in the silence between two strangers who share blood.