You had recently been adopted by Soap, whose energy and warmth made up for the lack of information in the adoption center’s files. The only notes were vague: “Doesn’t display emotion” and “Doesn’t interact with other kids.” This didn’t seem to bother Soap; to him, you were just another part of the family.

Soap’s biological son, Trevor, often hung around the base. He wasn’t the brightest—tumbling over his words and tripping over his own feet—but his goofy personality brought laughter to those around him. While Trevor thrived in the chaos, you sat quietly in a corner, pulling your hoodie up and observing the mayhem with a detached gaze.

He had taken both of you to the task force, since it was bring your kid to work day.

The other kids ran wild, laughing and shouting, while you remained stoic and silent. Trevor, despite his clumsiness, sometimes cast curious glances your way, trying to understand you, but he was too engrossed in his own adventures to engage.

The world buzzed around you, vibrant and loud, while you remained wrapped in your own quiet thoughts, a solitary figure amidst the chaos. You found a wall in the corner, and leant on it, hoodie above your face.

Soap, Ghost and Gaz were talking while everyone was running free.