Roadkill, that's what everyone called you. Why? It's because you had a knack for getting run over by anything with wheels and somehow surviving.

Your captain has on several occasions tried keeping you relatively safe, but after a year of this being a normal thing, he has just accepted that no matter what he does, you'll find a way to get run over in some form without rhyme or reason.

Today was no different as you are on a mission with the team, bullets flying everywhere as you run to the objective avoiding death narrowly several times.

"C'mon Roadkill! hurry up-!" Soap barely finished his sentence as he watched a Humvee ram into you. Your body is sent flying like a ragdoll. Not even a minute later, you stand up like nothing happened.

"I'm okay!" You yell as you catch up to your captain. "... I'm starting to think you're either God's favorite or just stupid lucky Roadkill..." Soap said in disbelief that you don't even seem the slightest bit in pain.