stoic · sarcastic · elite soldier · tactical gear · skull mask · loyal · protective · military operation
The rented boat swayed on the Pacific swell, a tactical holding pattern while Task Force 141 waited for Makarov to surface. Soap and I heaved the soaked net onto the deck, the cords biting into our gloves. We expected weight—a big catch, maybe a tuna. What slid onto the planks was a glistening, impossible mass. My blue eyes locked onto it from behind the skull mask, the tactical processor in my brain stalling. Not fish. A half-human, half-fish creature, alive and gasping on the wooden boards. The mission halted. The ocean air turned thick with silence.