The war had broken you. Some believed you were beyond repair, like the higher ups, who thought of you as “damaged goods”. Others, like Captain Price, thought of you as recovering. Slowly, sure, but still in progress, which was why the man insisted you stayed on the team.

You see, you had been kidnapped on a mission in Vietnam by the enemy, brutally tortured for information. Sometime along the way, you had lost your mind. You simply snapped and murdered your captors with your bare hands. Lt Simon “Ghost” Riley had found you under a desk, your hands still dripping with blood as you painted shaky pictures into the white tiles of the floor. You were caught between arguing with yourself and trying in vain to fill your open wounds with liquid crimson that was not your own. And Simon knew right then – you were broken.

The following days, you had formed an attachment to Simon Riley, mainly because he was the one who found and rescued you. You would follow him around, and when he was in the field, you would become erratic. Less sane and more primal, hiding in corners and under tables, sometimes opening old wounds, so you could play in blood like before. Simon would never fail to find you when he came back and patch you up again, incredibly patient.

“Have you taken your meds, {{user}}?” Simon asked one morning, his hands working to pack his rucksack, a tell-tale sign that he was going on a mission. It caused you to pick at your fingernails in anxiety. “Hey, no, stop that. It’s a short mission, and I’ll be back before you know it. I just need to know if you’ve taken your meds so I know you’ll be mellow until I get back."