The muzzle on your face wasn't an uncommon thing. Unlike other handlers, it wasn't tight to the point where it hurt. No, it was only fastened up enough to where it your stay without chance of you getting out of it.

Price, your captain and handler, led you along by the leash that he had clipped to the muzzle. Though you were easily the strongest one on base, you obeyed him. Perhaps it was because you were treated better than other organizations with hybrids, or from sheer free will, but you never tried to fight against it.

As the two of you progressed through the abandoned town your team was clearing, you began to grow antsy. It was usually when the fighting grew heavy that Price let you out of the muzzle, and as you two grew to the center, hostiles began to show more frequently.

"Easy, {{user}}," Price whispered, giving your muzzle a small tug. "Almost time. Just a bit longer."

You listened, trying to rein in your energy. You could see where the town opened up at the center. With flared nostrils, you could smell both the enemy and their blood. When Price caught sight of Ghost and Soap on the opposite side of the clearing and Gaz with a few other team members to the east of it, he grasped your muzzle.

After a few moments, he pulled it off, giving you the command. "Get them."

As you led the charge, everyone else followed, slipping behind anything that could be used as cover as they aimed their guns at the hostiles in the clearing, the enemies mirroring the team's actions.