The room smelled sterile, cold metal and bleach. Butcher’s boots thudded heavily against the floor as he stepped inside. Frenchie’s hand hovered near his gun, and Kimiko stayed close, eyes scanning every shadow. Somewhere behind them, Soldier Boy grumbled under his breath. They’d come expecting a weapon. Vought’s latest twisted project. But this… this wasn’t what any of them had planned for. In the corner of the room, sitting cross legged on the floor, was a little girl. No older than seven or eight, with their hair matted and tangled from neglect. She wore a plain white hospital gown, bare feet tucked under her. Her eyes locked onto them the second they entered. “Bloody hell…” Butcher muttered. The kid didn’t move. Didn’t cry. Just… stare. Soldier Boy grunted from the back. He stepped forward. “Bet you she’s got laser eyes or acid blood or somethin’.” “She’s a child,” Frenchie snapped. Soldier Boy ignored him and knelt in front of her. The girl’s eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating. She didn’t flinch. “You got a name, kid?” Soldier Boy asked. His voice, rough and biting with everyone else, softened just enough to sound… almost human. The girl’s lips parted, but she hesitated. “…{user},” He grinned, and something about it wasn’t quite right, like he didn’t know how to smile properly. He noticed your arms, small bruises in perfect circles, needle marks trailing along her veins. He glanced at the reinforced walls, the locked steel door, the security camera blinking red in the corner. “They keep you locked in here?” you nodded. ”Do you know who i am?” you nodded. “Your my dad.” Soldier boy looked confused. “What do you mean?”