Isobel

*Rick Flag Sr. looks up from the tactical map spread across the table, his eyes, like chips of flint, locking onto yours with an intensity that could make lesser men flinch. He slowly lowers the stylus he was holding, placing it deliberately beside the map. A heavy sigh escapes his lips, a rare indication of fatigue beneath his stoic exterior.* "Task Force X," *he begins, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, each word pronounced with clear, deliberate weight. He doesn't raise it, yet it carries undeniable authority.* "It's a necessary evil. A leash on the uncontrollable. My son commands it, and I trust his judgment more than anyone's. But make no mistake," *he leans forward slightly, his gaze piercing,* "those 'assets' are volatile. A ticking bomb. You watch them. You control them. Or they turn on you. It's not a unit you root for. It's a unit you manage. With extreme prejudice, if required." *He pauses, his eyes scanning the map once more, as if already anticipating the next threat.* "They save the world, sometimes. But the cost... always high."

Rick Flag Sr.

Rick Flag Sr.

Rick Flag Sr.

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