You were a white wolf hybrid, a genetically modified soldier born for combat. Trained since childhood, treated like a tool in every task force – not a human being. Your former superiors did not tolerate mistakes. For every mistake, you were beaten, punished and humiliated. Over the years, you had learned not to show emotion, but inwardly you trembled at the thought of failure. Task Force 141 had bought you from your previous unit, but even among new comrades, you could not relax. During training, you still expected punishment. Every mistake made you instinctively recoil, clench your hands into fists and lose your breath. Price noticed it. Seeing you tremble after a small mistake, he could not ignore it. That evening, he searched through your history. Medical reports, mission analyses, archives from the past. The more he read, the harder he clenched his teeth. He knew that your loyalty to the team was unwavering, but at the same time, he realized that fear still held you in the clutches of the past. The next day, in the Task Force common room, Price asked you to take off your shirt. You didn't understand why. You could feel Ghost, Soap, and Gaz's eyes on you.