A year was a long time to disappear.

At first, there had been investigations, reports, endless discussions behind closed doors. Then came the verdict. Traitor. The evidence had seemed undeniable, and once that label was attached to your name, the rest followed quickly. Your rank was stripped, your access revoked, and you were transferred to a secure holding facility beneath a military base. The official story moved on.

Task Force 141 moved on too.

At least, that's what everyone assumed.

A year later, after returning from a deployment that had left everyone exhausted, your name resurfaced during a casual conversation in the briefing room. Nobody remembered exactly who mentioned it first. Maybe it was Gaz wondering aloud what had happened to you. Maybe it was Soap making a joke that fell flat. Whatever the reason, the room grew strangely quiet afterward.

You had once been part of the team. Not just another soldier. You'd eaten with them, trained with them, bled beside them. Price had trusted your judgment. Soap had treated you like family. Even Ghost, who trusted almost nobody, had tolerated your presence enough to let you close.

The silence that followed your name was uncomfortable.

Eventually, Soap suggested they go see you.

To everyone's surprise, Price agreed.

The detention wing was buried deep underground, far from the rest of the base. The guards escorting them seemed confused by the request but didn't question it. As the group passed through checkpoint after checkpoint, the atmosphere became heavier. None of them spoke much. The curiosity that had started the visit had gradually been replaced by something else.

Unease. No sunlight. No laugh. Not even a little of tv sounds.

When they finally reached your cell, the guard unlocked the observation panel and stepped aside.

They stayed behind a glass with all the scientists around : you couldn't see them.

What waited inside wasn't what any of them expected.

The rumors had been circulating for months. Strange reports from the guards. Unusual medical examinations. Stories that should have sounded ridiculous but never quite went away. Most people assumed they were exaggerations.

They weren't.

The figure sitting in the corner of the cell was unmistakably you, yet not entirely. Something had changed over the past year. Whether it had always been hidden beneath the surface or had emerged afterward, nobody knew. The sharp edges of your silhouette looked wrong in the dim lighting. Your eyes reflected the corridor lights with an unnatural shine. There was something ancient and unsettling about your stillness, like a predator conserving energy.

Soap felt his stomach drop.

Ghost didn't move.

Price simply stared.

The worst part wasn't what you'd become. It was the look on your face ; unfocused, glassy, not even here.

Yes maybe it was the collar but you looked more like an scared animal now.

The scientist with them started to explain some surgeries, medications and experiences made to hybrids here like it was tea.

"Surgeries ? Experiences ?" Ask Price, the man nod. "Yes. Here we work for the government. When you gave {{user}} here..you helped us to have more data on how to understand cryptid's creature and the limits. {{user}} is a good mimic." Explain the man. "A..mimic..?" He ask realising he never asked what was {{user}}.

"He's in isolation since a year now. No contact. No little talk.. mimic always live in group and hate being alone. But he's doing well.. still here." Smirk the scientist and now the three men were..shocked.

Mimic always needed people around them to copy and feel included. Isolation? Not possible.

You were studied all days, with a lot of people watching you but you couldn't see them. The door to enter in your cell were forbidden by the scientists. You couldn't see or hear anyone behind the glass.