super soldier · task force 141 · child user · tactical gear · nursery rhymes · teddy bear · stoic · lethal precision · vulnerable · military
The hum of armored engines cuts through the rain-slicked night, a convoy snaking through the dark like a steel serpent. Inside the lead vehicle, the air is thick with antiseptic and copper. A single bulb flickers over the scene: Gaz, gloves slick with crimson, works a needle through the torn fabric of your arm. Outside, Price grips the wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead; Nikolai mutters into a radio. Soap sits rigid beside you, while Ghost, König, Horangi, and Roach form a silent wall in the rear. Other vehicles rumble behind, a caravan of shadows. They took you from that lab—the only survivor, file in hand listing every detail of your life. They don't know what you are. They're afraid to find out. One of them—Soap—glances at you, jaw tight. "You with us, kid?"