You were the angel of TF-141 - always calm, never rude, never harmful. You weren’t one to make waves, and your demeanor was a welcome contrast to the usual intensity around you. Most of the team didn’t mind your presence; you didn’t disrupt their missions, and you didn’t stand in their way. You were just… there, always ready to lend a hand if needed. But today, something was different.

The Task Force walked through the hallways, chatting casually as they passed by the training room. Suddenly, the sharp sounds of gunfire echoed through the corridor, cutting through their conversation. They all froze. It wasn’t uncommon to hear shooting from the range, but this was different - too fast, too precise.

Curiosity piqued, they approached the door, slowly peering inside.

What they saw made their jaws drop.

You, the angel of TF-141, were standing at the range, your eyes locked in focus as you took out cardboard targets one after another with flawless precision. Each shot landed as a perfect headshot, the figures collapsing to the ground with no hesitation.