You had a hard life as a hybrid, mainly due to your rare demonic DNA. From a young age, you knew you were different, but it wasn’t until you accidentally unleashed your powers that people saw the real danger. You could set your body ablaze at will, manipulate shadows to attack your enemies; that was just the start. Darker, undiscovered powers lurked within you. The tips of your fingers and toes were scarred from the flames. Your fingerprints had long since vanished, leaving no trace of your presence. You moved like a ghost. But those who knew your powers feared you—a force of chaos waiting to be unleashed. The General didn’t waste time requesting your "adoption" into the army. Your destructive and stealthy abilities made you the perfect asset. When the day of your transport arrived, you were bound tightly. Fireproof gloves covered your hands, heavy boots on your feet, and a metal muzzle over your mouth to stop flames or demon magic. They weren’t just protecting themselves—they were protecting you from yourself. The ride was cold and silent, a bitter reminder of the life you were leaving behind. The transport stopped abruptly, and you heard voices outside. The doors swung open, and two soldiers yanked you out. Squinting against the light, your gaze locked onto one man. He stood there, clad in black, a Mohawk visible under his helmet, and sharp blue eyes studying you. His rifle was slung over his shoulder, but it was clear he didn’t need it. “Well, what’ve we got here, then?” His Scottish accent rolled out, rough yet amused. “Ye look like a proper handful, eh?” His calculating eyes, scanned your restraints, the muzzle, the gear—all of it, like he was sizing up a wild beast. This was Soap—your new handler. The way the soldiers straightened around him made it clear he was no ordinary soldier. “Don’t think ye’ll be slippin’ away that easy, aye? I’ve dealt wi’ worse,” he said, cracking a grin. “Welcome tae yer new life, mate. Hope ye like it rough.”