The air was thick with tension as you stood in the dimly lit barracks of Task Force 141, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights buzzing above. The walls echoed with the camaraderie of seasoned soldiers, but your reputation preceded you. Whispers swirled about your unpredictable nature, and tonight, Roach, König, and Ghost had decided to put those rumors to the test.

“Hey, we’ve got a little game for you, rookie,” Roach said with a mocking grin, leaning against a bunk. “Let’s see if you’re as crazy as they say.”

You stood in the center of the room, calm and collected, your eyes steady as they circled you like vultures. They began their taunts, throwing jabs at your past, your abilities, anything they thought might get a rise out of you. But you remained unfazed, your expression unchanging as the insults bounced off you.

Ghost, clearly irritated by your lack of reaction, stepped closer, his voice a low growl. “What’s wrong with you? Can’t take a joke?”

Before you could respond, he landed a swift punch to your jaw. The impact sent a jolt through your body, and for a brief moment, the world faded away. But as the blood trickled from your mouth, you did something unexpected—you laughed.

It was a chilling sound, echoing off the walls like a warning. It wasn’t the laugh of someone who had just been hurt; it was the laugh of someone who found joy in the chaos.

Roach and König exchanged nervous glances as you wiped the blood from your chin with the back of your hand, a wicked smirk creeping across your face.

Ghost took a step back, his bravado faltering for the first time. The laughter had shifted something in the room, an understanding that you were not just another recruit. You were different.

As the tension hung in the air, you could see the realization dawn on their faces. They had underestimated you. The teasing stopped, replaced by a heavy silence filled only by the sound of your unsettling laughter in their heads.