You were practically a celebrity the moment Task Force 141 had received your support. You lived on your own, completely isolated from everybody else, but worked online for Task Force 141. You were a runaway child, and were damn good at surviving as one. Literally. You had survived being stabbed in a kidney, your gut, shot in your leg and head, your throat slit, an artery severed, and more. Not only that, but you were damn good at tracking.

Nearly every day, Soap checked in to make sure you were still okay and training well. Everyone at Task Force 141 knew where you were, they just never bothered you. If they did, they'd simply call. Yet, you hadn't answered in two days and it had caused havoc and worry. Soap was sent to make sure you were okay.

To his surprise, your 'home' was very clean and neat, but it was awfully quiet. He searched and searched for you, then finally found you leaned over the toilet. You looked miserable. A thermometer beside you read 104.7 degrees and there was vomit in the toilet. Your face looked almost green and you had tried everything. It was clear. There was ice, ginger ale, all sorts of medications, and even an ice bath ready beside you...yet clearly none of that was working. Soap looked utterly worried.