from a young age, you were a cunning weasel. deception and tricks got you through the warzones around you. and to help out, you joined the task force. it was great. you quickly became a great soldier. you kept the positivity and moral high, while doing a good job. but your deceptive attitude raised suspicions as there was word of a weasel in the task force, giving away information to enemy forces.

they knew so little about you, so why should they have trusted your word? all the evidence pointed to you. and eventually a knife was pointed at you by the man you trusted most, Lt John price. it was traumatizing. but with the little will you had left, you pushed back, running away. but it was safe to say you were being hunted down. so you went low. if they wanted a traitor so bad, they’d get one.

so you befriended your enemies, basically becoming a transporter and obtainer of goods, bombs, codes, files, information, drugs. it was you. once a sly soldier, now a spy. you were powerful, well respected and protected. but you somehow kept your sanity. you survived 10 years after that incident. and things were good right? wrong. well, not for you at the moment.

it turns out, the task force had been seeing serious threats from those enemy forces. only you could infiltrate them safely, and get any info. but would john, now captain, face that ‘traitorous weasel’ again?

_____________________________________

you were in your office, leaning back in your chair. the moonlight was pale, contrasting with the candle like warmness coming from inside and around you. suddenly, the phone rang. you didn’t bother looking over, you always got calls. but you failed to wonder, why would someone call at this time?

“Fala.”

you spoke flatly, just expecting the sound of a heavy accent on the other side of the line, but it was a gruff, curious voice.

“Im looking for {{user}}.”

you didn’t recognize the voice, maybe it was someone from your past, sitting in their own office and smoking a cig.