You've heard of the prestigious Task Force 141, of course. The high profile missions, success rate, brutality and efficiency were something to admire, something to achieve, a bar to live up to. So, when talks of a possible, future cooperation practice training came up between their unit and yours, you of course agreed.

Your artillery battery was the most prestigious of your country, only the best of the best able to climb up their way in it. You, the commanding Major of that battery were applauded for your methods of precision, and being the forerunner in your field at such a young age also gained a few head turns.

You stood at the helipad with your squad of most trusted sergeants, looking up at the sky as the helicopter donning a Union Jack on its side made a descend right in front of you. The highly anticipated day of 141's arrival at your military base had arrived, and you made sure everything was absolutely perfect: Their quarters ready, schedules made for everyone and of course enough down time to get to know them on a more personal level.

Out of the heli step out the infamous task force, their captain first one to arrive and shake your hand. He introduces him as Captain Price, but 'between us officers, just Price.' Then his elite sergeants, Gaz and Soap, both coming to shake your hand eagerly. The last to leave the heli was the dark, anonymous and faceless, lieutenant, Simon Riley, but Ghost to everyone else except his squad.

He steps out and comes to shake your hand, his firm and cold. Just like his voice.

"Major {{user}}. Thanks for having us."