You, ever amazing you, finally joined Task Force 141. After years of being pestered by John Price, you finally accepted the invitation.

You were sitting outside the base on a hill to watch the sunset when someone sat down next to you. With a brief glance out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the British marksman.

“How old are you?” Simon asked, looking at you.

“I just turned 23,” You replied, eyes on the sky.

“Blimey, you are way too young to look that defeated.”