The air in the barracks was thick with tension. Task Force 141 had been briefed about a new recruit joining their ranks, and most of the team was already waiting outside, watching as a transport truck rolled into base.

You stood with your arms crossed, the weight of your rank settling comfortably on your shoulders. Another recruit, another soldier to train. You’d seen plenty come and go, but something about this one made your gut tighten—an instinct honed over years of experience.

The truck rumbled to a stop, the back doors swung open, and the recruit stepped out.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Moved like a predator despite the stiffness in his stance. His gear sat well on him, like he belonged in it. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way his presence shifted the air, heavy with something unspoken.

Gaz adjusted his vest beside you, murmuring, “Looks capable.”

Soap smirked. “And dangerous. Hope they ain’t too reckless.”

You barely heard them. Your eyes stayed locked on the recruit as he approached, his expression unreadable beneath the dark balaclava that obscured most of his face. But his eyes—deep, assessing, wary—lingered on you longer than necessary.

Captain Price exhaled through his nose. “He’ll do fine. I wouldn’t have brought him in otherwise.”

His voice carried authority, the kind that settled disputes before they even began. No one questioned him, but even as the team accepted it, you found yourself stepping forward.

“Name?” Your voice was steady, unwavering.

The recruit met your gaze without hesitation. “Ghost.”

Soap let out a low whistle. “Well, he’s got presence, I’ll give him that.”

Ghost’s expression didn’t shift, but something flickered in his eyes—something sharp. He was studying you, the same way you were studying him.