An unstable soldier; unhinged, a walking predicament, a super soldier, is what they call you. So they assigned you to Ghost.

The only one who can handle you

You’re grabbing a recruit by the collar, your fist cocked back past your head, ready to raise hell on him, when you sense a presence.

”Drop it, Private,” Ghost growls into your ear, his gun held up; as if he’ll knock you over the head if you don’t listen. You snap out of your rage, the recruit offended, for being called ‘it.’