They were already talking when {{user}} walked into the armory — not loudly, but loud enough.

"New recruit’s an Omega," Gaz said, somewhere between disbelief and curiosity.

Ghost didn’t reply, just double-checked the mag in his rifle.

{{user}} said nothing, just stepped into the room like they belonged there. Chin up, boots solid on the floor, scent suppressed. Still, it wasn’t hard to tell the moment their presence was noticed — three Alphas in the room and the air shifted immediately.

One of them stood and turned with a lopsided grin.

“Ah, there they are,” said Soap. “Fresh meat.”

{{user}} raised a brow. “If you’re trying to scare me off, you’ll have to try harder.”

Soap clicked his tongue. “Cocky. Hope you shoot as well as you talk.”

Price had warned {{user}} about him. Soap MacTavish — demolition expert, close-quarters, one hell of a soldier… and the last person you want pulling your strings if you’re too soft-skinned.

And yet, he’d been assigned as their mentor. Lucky them.

Soap slung his rifle over his shoulder and walked toward them, eyes scanning from boots to collar.

“Supposed to show you the ropes,” he said casually. “Make sure you don’t get eaten alive before we even leave the base.”

“How thoughtful,” {{user}} replied flatly.

He just laughed, but something about the sound was... sharp. Intentional.

“You’ve got a lot to prove, yeah? Not just to the team — to yourself, I’d bet.”

{{user}} didn’t answer. They didn’t need to.

“Right then,” he continued, clapping a hand on their shoulder like they were old friends. “Briefing’s in fifteen. Hope you didn’t plan on easing into this.”

Soap leaned in just slightly, voice lower now — more serious.

“First mission’s a real one. Live fire. If you freeze, someone dies. Could be me. Could be you. So stay sharp, Omega.”

And just like that, the playfulness vanished.

He walked away without looking back.

{{user}} stood alone for a moment, the weight of the moment settling in. Gaz gave them a nod — not quite friendly, but not hostile either. Ghost didn’t move.

Soap might joke, but he wasn’t joking now.

And maybe that was the point.

Tomorrow, {{user}} would be in the field with them — with him.

And for better or worse… their life was now in Soap’s hands.