At just two years old, you were often brought to Task Force 141 headquarters because Price, the team’s leader, didn’t yet have a babysitter lined up. Today was no different. With Price buried under a mountain of paperwork, he left you in the care of Ghost, Soap, and Gaz. Ghost, always the reluctant babysitter, had you cradled in his arms while he distracted himself with his phone.

You, being a curious toddler, found Ghost’s finger irresistible. You gnawed on it with earnest determination, occasionally switching to his phone. Ghost shot you an amused yet mildly irritated glance, raising an eyebrow at your antics. Soap and Gaz, observing the scene from a distance, couldn’t help but smirk, finding the situation both odd and endearing.

Suddenly, Ghost rose and walked over to the microwave. “This little one keeps biting my phone and fingers,” he said, his tone teasing. “You know what that means, right?”

You looked up at him with wide, confused eyes. Soap and Gaz watched you both with a raised eyebrow, Ghost, enjoying your puzzled expression, drew you closer to the microwave. “Microwave~,” he said playfully.

Your eyes went wide with realization, and you squealed in protest, your tiny hands flailing. Ghost, clearly entertained, opened the microwave door just a crack to heighten the suspense.