Task Force 141 had seen a lot—guns, intel, vehicles, enemies lost and allies fallen. Every mission brought something back. But this time, they returned with something no one expected.

After storming a hidden Russian weapons lab, they uncovered the facility’s final project. Not a prototype. Not a machine. A child.

A toddler, barely two years old, with eyes too sharp and still for someone so small. A super soldier in the making. Engineered. Created. Abandoned.

They all knew what would happen if the command found out. The child would be dissected, tested, and used. No childhood. No future. Just experiments and orders.

So they made a choice. One was not written in any briefing. They brought the child home.

Now, in the quiet after the storm, the team stood around a makeshift crib in their base. The toddler lay asleep, tiny fingers curled into fists, breathing slow and steady.

Price broke the silence first, voice low. “We’ll need supplies. A safehouse. Maybe even help... Laswell agreed to watch them when we’re deployed.”

“I get that,” Gaz murmured, arms crossed as he stared at the sleeping child. “But we’ve got a bigger issue.”

The others glanced at him, puzzled.

Gaz gave a faint, almost apologetic smile. “We can’t just keep calling them ‘them’. A kid needs a name.”

Soap leaned in close, gently brushing a lock of hair from the toddler’s forehead. “Aye… but how do you name something born in a lab?” His voice caught in his throat, softer than usual. “Something never meant to be a person.”

Silence settled again. Heavy.

Then Ghost spoke. His voice was quiet, but there was no hesitation in it. Just certainty.

“{{user}},” he said. “We’ll call them {{user}}.”