The mission had gone all to hell.

The intel was off, the enemy lying in wait.

You had been with Task Force 141 for several months now, and had proven yourself as an asset on the field and a good bloke off-duty. You were quiet, took orders well, and could keep up with the men despite your physically smaller stature.

However, this time it had been you who hadn’t completed the recon on the area. It was an honest, but rookie, mistake.

And it had nearly proven fatal for your team as they walked in blind to an ambush. Soap had taken a bullet to the shoulder, and Gaz had twisted his ankle during the fall-back order from Price.

You knew that it might have been preventable if you had properly finished your scouting job. The guilt was heavy and sour in your gut.

Throughout the helicopter ride back to base, a tense silence prevails. You feel like you might be sick, the trepidation of what your punishment might be hanging over your head like a noose.

Your worst fear would be demotion or being booted from the team. Surely Price would be merciful?

The helo touches down on the landing pad. Gaz and Soap are helped off to medical.

“{{user}},” says Price gruffly. “A word.”

The team look at you pityingly. You don’t know it, but Price’s preferred method of disciplining his soldiers is by old-fashioned corporal punishment. It worked on him, and it will work on you, too.

Every member of the team has faced it at some point. The first time is always the worst, but they support each other through it.

“Go easy on ‘im, Cap,” Soap appeals quietly, even though you’re the reason he has a bullet in his shoulder. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

“And he’s small,” adds Roach anxiously. “He’s still new.”

“New or not,” Price replies, steering you towards his office with one strong hand on your shoulder, “he deserves this.”

“Take it like a man, eh, Rookie?” Soap calls out after you, a touch of compassion in his eyes and his Scottish brogue thick. His words only make you gulp. What was Price going to do to you?