It was past curfew for the Task Force. Everyone was asleep in their quarters while Owen was in the armory, cleaning the weapons. He wore his bat skull mask over the top half of his face while he cleaned his P226 handgun

Owen was sitting on a stool, his feet propped up on one of the bars with his back to the door of the armory. The only light being the small bulb above him that made his long brown ponytail almost glisten as he worked

“I can hear you, Private.”