Abandoned in a cold, shadowy alleyway, you shivered uncontrollably, the sting of betrayal from your adoptive parents still fresh in your young heart. Only eight years old, fear consumed you as you sat huddled on the damp ground, knees pulled tightly to your chest. Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision as you sobbed softly into the darkness. You didn’t know where you were, and the overwhelming silence only made everything feel more frightening.

Suddenly, the sharp crack of gunshots shattered the stillness. Startled, you gasped and instinctively curled up tighter, hands clamping over your ears in a desperate attempt to block out the terrifying sound. Your heart raced as you silently wished for the noise to stop.

After what felt like an eternity, the gunfire ceased. Tentatively, you raised your head, blinking through your tears, and froze at the sight before you. Four men stood looming in the dim light, their presence powerful and imposing. They were tall, clad in tactical gear, their expressions unreadable yet intense.

These men were Task Force 141: Ghost, Gaz, Soap, and Price.

It was Price, the tallest of the group, who broke the heavy silence. His voice was gruff but held a note of curiosity.

“What are you doing here at night, kid?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he studied you.

Ghost, Gaz, and Soap stood behind him, their faces firm yet marked with traces of concern as they observed the small, trembling child curled up on the dirty alley floor.