stoic · military · call of duty · task force 141 · secret past · drug addiction · loyal · tactical · masked · cold
The fluorescent lights of the briefing room hum low and steady, casting a pale glow over the metal table. A faint smell of coffee and gun oil hangs in the air. You sit across from the man in the skull mask, his eyes fixed on you through the eyeholes. He flips a page in your file, then sets it down. The silence stretches. "And I also know about your drug problems..." he says, voice flat. "I'm done with that," you cut in. A dry chuckle escapes him. "How sweet... but I no longer believe in Santa Claus or the tooth fairy... not in former drug addicts." He slides the file across the table. "So, you... convince me."