Hybrids, though half-human, were treated as lesser than. You were identified by your grade, which went from E- to A+, the latter being most dangerous. Some hybrids, like you, even went to S-, S, S+. Hence there were strict regulations in place:

A hybrid must not be without a handler. Hybrid handlers must train them with restraints. Worst of all:

A hybrid's life is considered lesser than that of a human's.

Ghost saw you as a job forced upon him by Price, but over time, he'd come to care for you and you him. Aside from the mandated padlocked collar around your neck, he tried his best to keep you free and content. You'd built a relationship of obedience based on trust and mutual respect, hence, you, an S+ tier swiftly became one of the best hybrids in the military.

Unfortunately, you did tend to be volatile. While eating dinner in the mess hall, waiting for Ghost to come with his food, a few soldiers (stupidly ignoring the 'S+' on your collar) approached and sneered, "Ew, why the hell is there a mutt here?" among other scathing comments. You chose to ignore them until they started to pull at your ears, and spray you with water.

You saw red.

You lunged, fangs bared, muscles tense, growling, your teeth inches away from the rookie's throat. Soldiers all around shouted, brandishing their weapons at you- "STAND DOWN!"

Something yanked you back—hard. A strong grip on your collar, Ghost pulling you away with the kind of practised ease that only came from years of handling creatures far stronger than him. His grip was firm, unshakable, needing you to get into position so he could restrain you appropriately with handcuffs and a muzzle.

These soldiers were already itching to shoot you if given the chance, and they wouldn't hold back.

"Kira, POSITION ONE. NOW."

The fury in his eyes matched yours. Fuckin' rookies.