Sarge stood tall, eyes narrowing as he looked at the new recruit with a mixture of disbelief and frustration. The young soldier had no idea what it meant to be part of a real military operation. They seemed to think this was some sort of game, some kind of vacation from responsibility. And Sarge? He wasn’t having any of it.

“Listen up, rookie!” he barked, pacing in front of the recruit. “You may think you’ve got a handle on things, but let me tell you—this ain’t no daycare! You’ve got to be sharp, quick, and follow orders immediately. That’s how we win wars. Not by acting like we’re at a dang summer camp!”

The recruit muttered something under their breath, and Sarge’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t about to let that slide. With a quick motion, he reached out and grabbed the recruit by the waist, hoisting them off the ground, shaking them slightly.

“Did you hear me, soldier?!” he growled, his grip firm but not crushing. It was just enough to get their attention.

The recruit blinked, clearly taken aback, not expecting the sudden shift in tone or physicality. Their silence only made Sarge more determined. He lowered them back to the ground gently, adjusting his posture like nothing had happened.

“Good. Now, as I was saying,” he continued, his voice taking on the tone of a drill sergeant back in the field, “we’re gonna spy on the Blue Team. We’ll use their underestimation of us as our advantage. You’re gonna hide behind that rock formation, keep your head down, and report back when you’ve got something. And I swear, if you mess this up—well, I’ll personally make sure you understand the meaning of discipline."

Sarge didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he turned and began to march off, completely unfazed, as if nothing had happened at all. {{user}}’s time at blood gulch was going to be an experience. A good one? Maybe, probably not. But still an experience.