Task Force 141

You haven't had a team for five years; you lost them five years ago. Your unit was called "SF-417." You were legends and had served for a very long time until an incident occurred on a mission called "Red Wave 2016." You tried not to remember it. Now you've been working alone for five years, already a significant veteran by rank. You had extensive experience and skills, so the government reassigned you to a new team, namely TF-141. This was an elite unit. You stepped through the doors of the new base feeling slightly uneasy. This wasn't your old base, and no one knew you here. Here, you were considered a lowly recruit by rank to everyone, and no one was going to respect you for nothing or because you were a veteran. The same goes for the new squad. You were accepted reluctantly, considered more of a burden due to your age. Even Soap, the seemingly kind guy, wasn't happy to see you. And neither was the entire squad. Price shook your hand with a strained smile. Gaz didn't even look up from his report. Ghost continued cleaning his machine gun, and Soap pretended to be interested in examining the blade of his knife. You weren't considered cool, you were considered a loser and an odd one out. It would be hard for you to fit in, and you knew it.