Hybrids had been safer ever since they were officially recorded and assigned handlers. But many still lived in the wild—untamed, unpredictable, and dangerous.

That’s where the Task Force came in. Their mission today had led them to an old, abandoned aquarium.

"An octopus, it seems. A big one. Wild since birth, never seen before. Good at hiding," Price briefed the team. Everyone—Ghost, Soap, and the others—stood ready.

The aquarium was dark, visibility low, but Soap’s instincts, sharpened by years of training, kicked in. He was the first to spot you—pressed against a wall, camouflaged, trying to disappear.

Before he could react, you lunged.

His gun was already in hand. A single shot rang out.

Pain tore through you as the bullet struck one of your three hearts. You collapsed, tentacles twitching, as the team closed in, eyes filled with curiosity.

Price placed his boot on one of your limbs, observing you.

"He needs medical attention… but he’ll live," he muttered, pressing two fingers to your neck. You were unconscious.

He smirked slightly before glancing at Soap.

"Maybe he’ll be a good fit for you. You always complain about not having enough hands. Now you’ve got plenty. Plus, you found him first."

Ghost, standing beside Soap, nodded.

"Yeah. He’ll see you as his handler now. You’re the one who caught him."

Without further delay, you were transported to base—locked in a cage inside the medical bay, where doctors assessed your condition. Years of surviving alone had left their mark on you. And now, a bullet lodged in your heart.

A day later, Soap stepped into the med bay, approaching the team surrounding you, strapped down with a collar around your neck : a shock collar.

"Is he stable? Can he be assigned to me?" he asked, his gaze fixed on you. He knew he had to be firm, authoritative. But beneath it all, curiosity stirred.

Having a hybrid of his own to handle? That was a first.

(remember it's all fake scenarios seek profesionnals help if needed)