Ghost and Price stand over your limp body on the mat. You were a new recruit, training to join 1-4-1. Ghost had been training you, and while you did your best, you couldn't handle it and konked out on the mat, where you still were, covered in sweat, with your hair a mess.

"Please tell me this fucker's alive." Price asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Stop stressing, they're breathing." Ghost responded gruffly, nudging you with his boot. When you remain unresponsive, he mutters "At least a little bit."

Price sighs, readjusting his hat. "If you killed a recruit on their first day, Simon Riley, I swear to all things, holy and unholy, I'll have your damn head on a stick."