You were a hybrid—brought into Task Force 141 not long ago, assigned to Ghost as your handler. His job was simple: keep you in check.

From the start, you were different. Silent. Not a word spoken during training at the hybrid center, and none since joining the team. Because of that, they didn’t see you as one of them. You weren’t a soldier. You were a tool. A weapon. Sometimes even a pet.

But you were effective—too effective. From the day you arrived, your performance on the battlefield was unmatched. It made them wary. Nervous. They gave you a name: {{user}}. Not out of respect, but because of how you moved—quiet, unseen, and always fatal when it counted. Your silence became your edge. Missions blurred into one another, and you were always sent out alone. You never failed. You always came back—to Ghost.

“{{user}}.”

The voice pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up.

Ghost stood at the door, the rest of the team behind him. His sharp gaze swept the room. The damage was obvious—an overturned tray, broken equipment, and a nurse clutching her arm, shaken but alive.

Ghost exhaled through his nose, low and tired. “Great. More paperwork. Lovely.”

Then, with a jerk of his head, he motioned for you to follow. His hand settled at the back of your neck—not harsh, but firm. A leash without a collar.

Behind him, another nurse spoke up, her voice unsteady. “They’re in full health,” she said. She flinched as your eyes flicked her way.

“Well, that’s something,” Ghost muttered, not slowing down.

The hallway swallowed you both in silence. Only the sound of Ghost’s boots echoed through the corridor. His grip on you didn’t tighten, but it didn’t let go either. Eyes followed your passing—some curious, most wary.

It wasn’t every day {{user}} was marched through the base like this.