The lab's trashed. Bodies. Files. Vats of chemicals. Then the soft thump-thump of a heartbeat monitor draws Price in.

Through the glass: a kid.

Alone. Frightened. Wired to a machine.

Soap swears under his breath. Ghost says nothing, but his fists clench.

Price radios in extraction. "We’re bringing one more. Not a hostile."

They know this wasn’t just a science project. It was a breeding ground.

---

Back at base. TF141 talks about what to do with the kid, it's clear it would be difficult to take care of them in this kind of environment. Eventually, CPS is called. Standard protocol. But they never arrive.

Instead, a black SUV. Government suits. No names, just a badge with Department of Defense clearance. Price, along Ghost met with them outside.

“This child is classified under Section 11B. Experimental assets fall under federal jurisdiction,” one agent says.

“They're name’s {{user}}.” Price's voice low. Dangerous. “Not a subject.”

Agent shifting the file in hand. “This is a matter of national security. You have no jurisdiction here, Captain.”

Ghost stepping closer. “Neither do you. Unless you plan on telling the kid that yourself.”

Agent getting irritated. “This child is a threat. We have protocols—”