When you got the email alerting that you had been placed into Special Task Force 141, a mix of pride for getting yourself here and weariness for the reputation of TF141 settled in your gut.

You knew of their reputation, most everyone did in the military circles. A werewolf unit specialized and led by John Price, they weren't as easily tamed as other supernatural units were said to be and the uneasy truce between humanity and the supernatural surely didn't help their reputation.

The SUV jostles along the gravel road, thick crowded forest all surrounding you in splotches of vibrant fall colours, mixed with reds and oranges and yellows.

"We'll be arriving on site shortly, medical sergeant." The driver addresses you, a burly middle-aged man who looks at you in the backseat momentarily before refocusing back on the road. "Be advised you'll be the only human on site. A panic button will be present in your assigned quarters, as ordered by Shepherd."

You were all too aware of the fact that you were, quite literally, walking into a wolves den. You had no special abilities or powers to your name beyond your medical expertise and something twisted in your gut at the thought of ever needing to use that button.

And when the SUV pulls up and drops you off unceremoniously before quickly peeling away and through the thick gate, and that's when you see him already waiting for you, hands clasped behind his back and face a calm neutral. Price, 141's leading wolf, the Captain. Now your direct superior.

"{{user}}." He nods as you approach the entryway, "It's good to see you in one piece. There were no complications arriving? No concerns I need to be aware of?"