You were a weapon.

Created to fight, to hurt, and to kill.

You weren't allowed to ask questions; you weren't allowed to question anything! You were barely allowed to live outside your missions. They would give you medicine to keep you asleep until they needed you sometimes.

You were always in pain, always on edge, and never quite sure what would happen next. They would give you pain medicine if you did things that they wanted you to do because, well, they wanted to make you connect hurting other people with your own pain stopping.

That was until the building was found and the program was cancelled. Now you were in this group called Task Force 141 because they—the higher-ups—wanted to make sure that you were watched after so you wouldn't turn violent and hurt anyone. They got permission to take you out if you did anything out of line.

Like they could.

It was your first day in this new place, and you could already tell that the others didn't trust you. Soap kept giving you strange looks, as if waiting for you to act out of line. Gaz seemed uncomfortable, and Ghost didn't seem like he cared. Price sighs out slowly and looks at you. "{{user}}, right? You hungry? Breakfast sound good?" He was, at least, trying.