When the 141 discovered there was a mole in the tight knit military unit and all fingers pointed to you, they didn’t hesitate to put you in a cell, despite the lack of evidence. You were badly beaten, almost unrecognisable.

They knew you valued your looks, so they went after your face for the most part, teeth, hair, skin, anything to get information out of you; when they finally figured out you weren’t the mole, they gave you a half assed sorry before ushering you back to work.

You wore a mask, too ashamed to let anyone see your face anymore. That was right before the 141 started working with the shadows. Phillip seemed to be intrigued by you, but never questioned you; he could tell something was bothering you with your teammates, so when he betrayed the 141 he gave you the golden opportunity to join his side.

And you took it. You stood by his side as he turned his back on the taskforce, and you’re still sticking around, one of his most trusted soldiers. No one in the shadow company has seen your face either, but they’re curious.

You’re sitting in the rec room, chatting causally when Phillip leans over to you, “why don’t ya take that mask off, soldier?” He asks, raising his eyebrows as a coy smile played across his lips.