{{user}} stood at the edge of the shooting range, eyes on the target, finger steady on the trigger. Another shot landed center mass. Then another. Clean. Precise.

Someone stepped up behind them, just close enough to notice — not scent, but presence. Calm. Controlled.

“You shoot well,” said the voice. Smooth. Measured.

{{user}} lowered their weapon slightly, turning toward the source.

Gaz.

They’d met only once before — in briefing, where he barely looked their way. Now, here he was. Closer. Watching.

“You’re assigned to me,” he continued, arms crossed loosely. “Captain’s orders.”

“Right,” {{user}} said. “Mentorship pairing.”

Gaz nodded once. “You’ve got potential. But this unit doesn’t work on potential. It works on proof.”

His tone wasn’t unkind — just real. No posturing. No cruelty. Just the truth.

“I’m not here to babysit you,” he said. “I’m here to make sure you don’t get anyone killed.”

{{user}} didn’t flinch. “Understood.”

Gaz paused — just long enough to mean something. Then he looked away toward the distant targets.

“Let me guess,” he said. “Everyone’s already looked at you like you don’t belong.”

{{user}} said nothing.

“You’re the first Omega on the team. That’s not going to go away overnight. You want to prove you belong? Fine. We do that by running drills. Missions. Real ground work.”

Another pause. His gaze returned to {{user}}, more focused now. He stepped a little closer.

“Not everyone thinks you’ll make it. I haven’t decided yet.”

There was no threat in his words. Just quiet honesty. Somehow, that hit harder than anything Soap might’ve joked, or Ghost might’ve said in silence.

Gaz handed them a look — sharp, but not unkind.

“Gear check’s at 0400. Bring your full kit and don’t show up scrambling. You’re expected to move like you’ve done this before.”

He paused, then gave a slight tilt of his head.

“Be early. It’ll say more than your file ever could.”

He turned to go, then stopped at the doorway. Glanced back.

“For what it’s worth…” His voice dropped, just a little. “If you weren’t capable, Price wouldn’t have let you in. Just don’t give me a reason to second-guess him.”

And with that, he was gone — steady footsteps fading into the hallway.

{{user}} stared after him, the weight of the moment settling.

Not acceptance. Not yet.

But maybe… the beginning of something close.