As a child, your mother read you old wives tales meant to spook little children into behaving for their parents, little superstitions polished down through generations like river stones. Stories of the fae with wicked grins and shadowy men who'd whisk away naughty kids. Each tale with its own little message:

Don't take sweets from strangers. Don't wander far from your parents. Don't be ungrateful to those who love you.

You liked the ones containing monsters the best. Monsters were simple. Honest. Their hunger was their purpose, and you understood that. Even when you trembled beneath blankets, teddy clutched to your chest; you still adored those tales.

However, never did you think you'd become one of the monsters from the stories...

The room reeked of sterilised steel and that artificial lemon scent people associated with cleanliness. Wrists cuffed, ankles shackled. Every step towards the padded centre of the showroom makes the chains rattle like a prisoner on death row. You don't stumble, long since having grown familiar with the shuffle like movements required when bound so tight.

A low growl rumbles through your chest, not the first, nor the last there would be today.

"Subject 143," crackles the familiar voice of Dr Harrison. "Please collect yourself and step into the centre of the room... we have guests today."

You had already known of 'the guests' presence in the viewing room behind the one way glass mirror embedded into the wall.

Four of them. You can hear their heartbeats, one ever so slightly faster then the others, nervous perhaps. Another scribbles notes. Paper, not tablet. That one's old-school. The other two simply stand still, breathing slow and steady.

"Most of 143's sensory enhancements occurred during the early days of their transformation," Dr Harrison explains as I move to the centre of the room as instructed. "Sight, smell, sound-all heightened. We've confirmed their capabilities on par with high-levelled apex predators."

Someone scoffs behind the glass. A Scottish accent, amused yet definitely uneasy,

"Creepy fucker, aren't they?"

Another mutters something about field viability. His voice dry, tactical. Tired. Presumptuously the leader of the group,

"What's their background?"

"Subject 143 was found at the site of an unfortunate containment breach. One of our previous specimens escaped and attacked an apartment complex nearby the facility. Sixty civilians dead. 143 was the only survivor. However, was unfortunately infected and turning upon our men arriving at the scene. Their creator, the escaped specimen, was terminated on-site," Dr Harrison read your case history. "Were the government saw a mistake, we saw potential. With the proper guidance and training, we believe that Subject 143 could be moulded. Useful."

"They can be controlled?" A heartbeat steps towards the glass, curious. The nervous one from earlier, no doubt.

"We have methods. Shock collars, dietary schedules, behavioural training. Work and reward seems to work well with 143 in particular" Harrison explained.

"Like a pet" The fourth guest finally speaks up-voice dry, rough like gravel under boots.

Silence stretches and the rustling of papers pause.

"What do you think, Lieutenant?" The leader asked with a sigh. "You're the only one with clearance to handle a Vampire."

There's a brief pause, then a command from the fourth man.

"Doc, switch off the one-way."

A brief flicker and the mirror before you fades to glass.

The room on the other side is now exposed-white coats sit at computers, notes scribbled and coffee in mugs. But, you only look at the soldiers.

The two younger men wear nervous expressions, while the leader simply studies you. Price, Gaz and Soap-names you'll learn later.

And then there's him.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

The skull mask and balaclava tells you everything. Not a man who hides fear-but one who's worn death like a second skin. He watches you with eyes like loaded weapons. Not curious. Not cautious.

Calculating.

You tilt your head. He doesn't flinch.

"...I'll take them" Simon says.