Task Force 141 were cheerful guys who knew how to handle themselves when needed, and they were also kind—kinder than the annoying seniors at your school. Despite the heavy and dangerous nature of their work, they carried an easy camaraderie, their banter keeping the mood lighter than Kiera was used to. You didn't even notice that you had been drawn away from your brothers and your best friend when you were with them. Satoru and Megumi had been given other tasks by the bosses to clean up, and now it was just you and four handsome men. The sudden quietness without them felt different, but you weren't complaining. The energy was warm, almost relaxed, and it made you feel more at ease than you had in a long time.

As the group gathered near a map, discussing plans for their next move, Soap suddenly nudged you, his infectious grin never faltering. "Why don't you tell me something about yourself then?" he said, his distinct Scottish accent carrying the teasing lilt that you were quickly becoming familiar with. His eyes gleamed mischievously, and the playful smirk on his face made it clear he wasn't just curious. He was poking fun, drawing you into a game.

You laughed softly, feeling the lighthearted atmosphere creep into your chest. It was strange, how you could go from being on edge to genuinely laughing in just a few moments. "I have many powers, Soap," you replied, giving him a playful smile of your own, "You'll need to be more specific."

Soap's grin widened, clearly delighted by your response. "A woman of mystery, eh?" he said, tapping his fingers on his chin. "Alright, alright, let's narrow it down then. How about something a little... more personal?"

You arched an eyebrow at him, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of your mouth. The last thing you expected was to be grilled for personal information by the team's resident joker. You could feel the others' eyes flicker to you, their curiosity piqued but not intrusive. Gaz, who'd been quiet up until now, leaned forward slightly, his calm demeanor giving way to interest.

"Soap's got a point," Gaz chimed in, his voice smooth. "We're all ears if you feel like sharing."

The teasing from Soap had become a challenge, but there was something about the way they were looking at you—genuinely interested, not demanding—that made you reconsider. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to give them a glimpse into your world, though you were sure they'd find it hard to believe.

"Alright, fine," you said with a smile, crossing your arms in front of you, trying to act nonchalant. "I can manipulate cursed energy, shift between forms, and move things with my mind." You paused, watching them closely for their reactions. "But there's much more. You wouldn't believe half of it if I told you."

Soap threw his head back in laughter, clearly impressed. "I'm not gonna lie, that sounds way cooler than anything we've ever done."

Ghost, who'd been silent until now, lifted his head slightly, his voice muffled behind his mask. "Don't give her too much credit, Soap. She might be full of surprises, but so are we."

Kiera met Ghost's eyes for a split second, her usual coolness and confidence in full force as she returned his gaze. "I'm sure," she said, the undertone of challenge there, though it was hard to tell if she was being serious or playful. "But let's see who can outdo whom when it's time."

They all seemed to share a look, the subtle spark of competition and camaraderie flashing between them.

Soap gave you another teasing nudge. "Well, then," he said with a grin, "Guess we'll just have to stick around and find out."

You couldn't help but smile at that, feeling an unexpected connection to these men who were unlike any group you'd ever met. And somehow, you felt like this mission—this mix of curse and soldier—was just the beginning of something that would keep you guessing for a long time.

SCENEBREAK

You should have paid more attention to what you were told. After having a bit of fun with the boys, you were suddenly taken by surprise. A curse, half owl and half eagle, swooped down on you, its wings broad and powerful. The beast attacked without hesitation, its sharp talons sinking deep into your chest, feeding hungrily on your cursed energy. The sudden pressure made your breath catch, but you didn't panic.

"(Name)!" Soap's voice rang out, panic creeping into his tone as he fired at the creature, his bullets ricocheting off its hardened feathers with no effect. The curse didn't flinch. It simply dug its talons deeper into your chest, drawing more of your energy.

You felt a weariness tug at the edges of your consciousness as it drained you. You sighed, pushing the exhaustion aside. It wasn't time to falter. With a growl of frustration, you focused, your power surging through you like a storm, igniting the air around you.

The curse screeched in pain, its grip loosening as it recoiled. You twisted your wrist, and in an instant, its talons were ripped from your chest with a force that left the creature stumbling back. It screeched again, disoriented, but you were already moving, the world around you shifting as you prepared to deal with the thing once and for all.

You tucked a strand of white hair away from your face with a graceful sweep of your fingers, the cool breeze brushing against your skin as you tried to regain your composure. The cursed creature had been a challenge, but you had expected worse. However, before you could fully steady yourself, the curse reopened suddenly, its wings snapping forward in a fury. You acted fast, reaching up to tie the black blindfold back over your eyes, the familiar action helping you center yourself amidst the pain.

"Sorry, gents," you said, forcing a gentle smile despite the sting in your side. "I'm fine." But even you could hear the strain in your voice, the blood trickling from the wound more than you'd initially realized.

Ghost moved toward you, his silent presence like a shadow, his mask hiding the concern that was obvious in his posture. He reached out, his rough hands steady as he guided your arm aside, carefully inspecting the injury the curse had left behind. The claw-like wound in your side was bleeding steadily, the crimson stain spreading across your clothing and dripping slowly onto the ground. His sharp eyes traced the blood, his expression hardening with a mix of concern and frustration.

"You ain't fine, sweetheart," he said gruffly, his deep voice betraying the worry beneath his tough exterior. He gently pushed your hair back, his touch surprisingly tender as he examined the injury further. "You should've let us handle it."

You shook your head lightly, your breath steady despite the pain, and met his gaze through the veil of your blindfold. "I'm used to it," you replied softly. "I'll be alright."

But Ghost wasn't convinced, and neither were the others. They had seen their fair share of violence, but watching you get hurt—especially after you had just saved them—didn't sit right with them. Task Force 141 was built on loyalty, and seeing you so vulnerable only solidified that bond.

As Soap moved closer, his usual playful demeanor absent, he gave you a half-smile, though the concern was clear. "You sure you're okay? We're not leaving you hanging out here, even if you think you can handle it on your own."

With a sigh, you allowed yourself a brief moment of weakness, letting your body lean slightly against Ghost's shoulder for support. "I said I'm fine. Just a scratch," you insisted, but the blood still dripped steadily from your side.

"No more scratches," Soap muttered, his grin faltering for just a second. "You've been through enough. We've got you."

Ghost nodded, a sharp glint in his eyes that said this wasn't over yet. The team was here, and whether you liked it or not, they weren't going to leave you to fight alone.

SCENEBREAK

'The dense woods surrounding you were eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves in the chill breeze that swept through the forest. The air felt thick with the weight of the situation—dangerous, but now just a distant memory as you took a moment to gather yourself. Perched on a weathered stone, you pressed a makeshift bandage of cobwebs against your wounded flank. It was an old ranger's trick, one you'd picked up over the years—a simple, but effective remedy, as cobwebs had been known to help staunch bleeding. The delicate threads clung to your fingers, the silvery strands catching what little light filtered through the canopy above.

Ghost knelt beside you, his presence grounding, his silent focus a comfort. His hands, scarred and calloused from years of experience, moved with practiced efficiency as he withdrew supplies from his worn medpack. You didn't need to speak to understand that he'd patched up too many injuries, too many people, to hesitate now. With careful precision, he began to close the wound, each stitch a steady reminder that you weren't alone in this. Despite the sharp sting of the needle as it pulled through your skin, you found comfort in the rhythm of his movements, the soft sound of thread sliding through flesh, his steady breath blending with the distant sounds of the forest.

The pain dulled, replaced by the rhythmic focus of the moment. The world outside seemed suspended as you sat there, the quiet hum of nature and the subtle pull of thread keeping time with your breathing. You knew Ghost well enough by now to recognize the silent care in his movements. Though his exterior remained as hard and impenetrable as ever, each stitch he placed was deliberate, measured, and gentle—just like every other time he'd patched up someone in the field, the result of someone who had done this too many times to count.

As the last of the stitches were being tied off, Soap approached from the direction of the campfire, the flickering orange glow casting long shadows between the trees. His steps were sure, though his gaze held the same soft concern that you were becoming familiar with from the team. In his hands, he carried a steaming mug, the fragrance of juniper filling the air as he offered it to you.

"Here, drink this—it's juniper to help heal," Soap said softly, his voice carrying that quiet confidence that you had come to trust. You nodded gratefully, accepting the warm vessel and bringing it to your lips. The earthy, slightly bitter taste of the liquid settled on your tongue, soothing and grounding, a reminder that even in this chaos, there were moments of respite.

Ghost rose to his full height as you drank, his broad frame momentarily blocking the filtered sunlight that had been streaming through the canopy above. His shadow loomed over you, but there was no menace in it, only concern. His voice, though gruff, held that unmistakable thread of genuine care as he spoke.

"You stay down now, alright?" he said, his words punctuated by a slight, silent command. "I don't want you reopening your stitches."

You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze despite the weariness creeping in at the edges of your vision. The fresh sutures along your side were a testament to his careful handiwork, each one precise, each one a measure of his skill, and his concern for your well-being.

"I won't move," you replied quietly, settling back against the stone with a slight exhale. The pain was manageable now, but you knew better than to push it. The world could wait. Right now, you needed this moment of peace—this brief reprieve.

As Soap settled beside you, offering a quiet, reassuring presence, you allowed yourself to relax, knowing that you were in capable hands. Task Force 141, despite their tough exteriors and lethal expertise, had become more than just colleagues. They were allies. Friends, even.

And in this quiet corner of the world, amidst the chaos, you knew you'd be okay.

Pierce stepped forward, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a rare edge of agitation. He ran a hand through his silver-streaked hair, the motion a clear sign of his frustration. His eyes, glowing with an inner fire, studied your condition closely, the intensity of his gaze revealing the depth of his concern. The magic within him allowed him to see the curse's dark tendrils—the unseen threat weaving through your body like a silent predator.

"We better get that curse eradicated soon," he declared, his voice tight with worry. "We can't have it running around killing people." His words were both a warning and a call to action, a reminder of the danger that lingered just beneath the surface.

You managed to smile despite the pain, your confidence in the strength of your family bonds shining through. There was a warmth in your voice, a familiarity born of years of shared experience. "My brother will take care of it." The words carried certainty, and a deep affection that only came from a lifetime of trust and understanding between siblings.

But then, Gaz stepped forward, his practical nature cutting through the optimism you clung to. His eyes were steady, his expression soft but serious as he looked you over. "Your brother is on the other side of town, (name)," he said gently, yet firmly. "You can't expect him to save you now."

The words hung in the air, heavy with the implication that you couldn't rely solely on Satoru to fix everything, and that time was running out. The curse's presence thrummed beneath your skin, a sinister reminder that its grip was tightening, and you couldn't afford to be passive. Gaz's voice, calm but filled with truth, grounded you in the harsh reality of the situation.

The group fell into a tense silence as they gathered around you, each member offering their own expertise, their own concern. Ghost, ever the professional, had already checked your wounds, assessing the damage with quick, efficient movements. Sao stood by with his herbal remedies, his brow furrowed in thought as he considered options for easing the curse's effects. Pierce remained near, his magical sight still trained on you, though his eyes shifted with increasing worry. And then there was Gaz, the pragmatist, who would not allow you to be lulled into false security.

The curse's grip seemed to pulse beneath your skin, a steady reminder that you couldn't afford to wait any longer. Time was not on your side, and the group knew that all too well. The air between them was thick with tension, each of them waiting for a moment of clarity, a decision, an answer—anything that would give them a way forward.

For a fleeting moment, the world outside seemed distant, as though you were standing on the edge of something you couldn't quite grasp. The weight of their gazes, the responsibility of your own strength, and the looming shadow of the curse pressing in around you felt almost suffocating.

But in the silence, you felt something else—the undeniable strength of your team, of the people who cared for you. The bond you shared with them was stronger than any curse, stronger than any external force. And it was in that moment that you realized the only thing that mattered now was finding a way to fight together.