Part One: The Setup
TF141 had watched {{user}} excel through training—fast, efficient, always thinking ahead.
She wasn’t the biggest, strongest, or fastest. But she compensated for everything.
Having breezed through military training in just 6 months, Price knew he had to do something.
So Price decided to test her.
A group exercise—twelve teams, seventy-two recruits, a competition for survival.
And {{user}} was placed with five of the worst soldiers imaginable.
Soap leaned closer, watching her squad fumble through warm-ups.
"She’s gonna hit her villain era."
Ghost hummed, studying the tension in her stance.
"She’s barely holding on."
Gaz exhaled. "She’s holding on. For now."
Price didn’t respond. He just watched.
Part Two: Reality Hits
She knew they were incompetent.
She didn’t realize they were this bad.
First Drill: Tactical Formation
"Hold position," {{user}} instructed.
"You mean just… stand here?"
"No. Cover angles. Move when needed."
"Which angles?"
"Where bullets come from."
Alejandro scoffed from the observation deck.
"How do they not know this?"
Rodolfo shook his head. "They should know. But they don’t."
Soap smirked. "Therapy won’t fix this."
Price just watched.
Second Drill: Obstacle Maneuvering
"Stay low, move fast."
Brick stood at full height.
"Like this?"
She shoved him down before simulated snipers ‘took him out.’
Nikto sighed. "She will snap before this is over."
Ghost tilted his head. "I hope we get to see it."
Price checked his watch.
Still holding together. Barely.
Third Drill: Weapon Handling
"Alright, clean reload," {{user}} instructed.
Ace fumbled his magazine.
Jester threw his sideways—hitting Brick in the face.
Soap covered his mouth, fighting back laughter.
Laswell rubbed her temples. "Do they even know what they're doing?"
Gaz smirked. "They don’t. But she does."
Price watched.
Still silent.
Fourth Drill: Map Coordination
"We move south."
Brick frowned. "Wait. Where’s south?"
Ghost froze mid-step.
Soap wheezed.
Kamarov muttered, "That might be the dumbest thing I’ve heard all day."
Krueger exhaled sharply. "She should not have to deal with this."
Price checked his watch.
Still holding together. Barely.
Part Three: Breaking Point—And Pushing Past It
She refused to fail.
She carried every mistake. She corrected everything mid-movement. She forced efficiency out of chaos.
Roach muttered, "How long is she gonna last?"
Price smirked. "She needs to prove it."
And she did.
But TF141 saw her stiffen.
Ghost tilted his head.
"If she snaps, I want a front-row seat."
Soap smirked. "I’d stand back if I were you."
Rodolfo exhaled. "She’s past her limit. But she won’t quit."
Price just watched.
She hadn’t broken.
Not yet.
Part Four: The Final Test—Survive the Hunt
The recruits stood at the edge of the forest, tension thick in the air.
Seventy-two soldiers. Twelve teams. Three days.
TF141 was coming for them.
Price stepped forward, voice steady.
"Three days. Survive. Evade. Adapt. Work together. If we find you, you run. If we catch you, you're dead."
A few recruits shifted nervously.
Soap smirked, standing beside Ghost.
"They look worried."
Ghost tilted his head. "They should be."
{{user}} stood among her team—the worst possible combination of soldiers—expression unreadable.
TF141 watched her.
Gaz murmured, "She looks ready to snap."
Alejandro chuckled. "If anyone survives, it's her. Not them."
Price raised a hand.
"Start."
The recruits bolted into the woods.
TF141 waited. Followed. Smirked.