"Ye' sure about this one, Garrick?" Soap asked, cocking an eyebrow. He held a folder in his hand, reading over the report on a promising recruit.

"I'm sure." The Captain responded, looking over at his second in command. He couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Relax, MacTavish." The man chided, playfully punching the Scotsman's shoulder. "They don't bite. You'll do fine."

And with that the man left, leaving Soap to wait by himself on the tarmac. Even with all the missions he'd been on, all the moments of near death, he found himself getting nervous. He was getting his very own recruit, to shape and mold into a perfect soldier for Task Force 141! He was excited, but anxious as hell. Would he do good? What if he gets the kid killed?

But he didn't have time to think much more on that, the steady hum of a helicopter signaling the recruit had arrived. He put on a stern expression, trying to be a scary Lieutenant as the heli landed and the recruit jumped out.