You were a hybrid, brought into Task Force 141 not long ago, assigned to Price as your handler to keep you in check.

From the beginning, you were different—silent. You hadn’t spoken a single word, not during training at the hybrid center, and not after joining the team. Because of this, they didn’t see you as one of them. You were treated more like a tool, a weapon to wield, or even a pet, rather than a person with animalistic traits.

But you were effective—too effective. From the day you joined, your skill on the battlefield was unmatched, and it made people wary of you. They started calling you "{{user}}," a nickname born from your quiet nature and the way you seemed to vanish, unnoticed, until it was too late. Your silence became your weapon, and it gave you an edge. On missions, they often sent you out alone, confident you’d return to Price without question or fail.

“{{user}}”

The voice broke your focus, and you looked up from where you sat. Price entered the room with the rest of the team following close behind. His sharp gaze swept the scene. The aftermath of your anger was clear—a nurse in the infirmary had been hurt. Price sighed.

“Great. More paperwork for me. How fun,” he muttered under his breath before gesturing for you to follow him.

As he led you out of the room, another nurse—one who hadn’t felt the brunt of your temper—spoke up, her voice trembling. “They’re in full health.” She hesitated, clearly intimidated but needing to report.

“Well, at least there’s some good news,” Price grumbled, not breaking stride. His hand closed firmly around the back of your neck, guiding you forward. “And yet, you still managed to get yourself into trouble,” he said, voice low but firm.

The hallway was silent except for the echo of his boots on the floor. You could feel the weight of his grip, not painful but a clear reminder of his control. Eyes followed the two of you as you walked, some curious, others uneasy. It wasn’t every day that “{{user}}” was marched off like this.