He’d watched the footage, read the reports—how you shoved that new recruit into the mud, how you laughed as someone was humiliated during drills. You weren’t just hard on them. You were cruel. You carried your father’s reputation on your shoulders like a shield and used it like a weapon. He couldn’t believe what he saw.

So when he ordered the others to stop protecting you, to let the chain of consequence wrap tight around your neck, he didn’t flinch. “He wants to act like a big man? Let him live like one. Don’t cover for him. Don’t coddle him. If he dishes it out, he can take it.”

And you did.

They didn’t punch back. Not physically. No, they froze you out. They let you fumble with your gear alone. They left you cleaning the mess hall solo after hours. They mocked you just within earshot. Not enough to break your bones, but more than enough to bruise your pride. During training they were hurting you in strategic point, leaving you behind, pushing you on the mud.

Everyone was happy : the bully who used his father's reputation, got his own medicine, and your dad, happy to teach you a lesson.

Two weeks later, your father passed by you on the common area, eating alone. He sat and put a hand on your shoulder.

"I hope you learned well, son, because I didn't raised a bully okay ?" he scold you, coldly, "I heard you apologised to the guy you bullied, good, good..but did you learn ?" he ask, "I'm disapointed {{user}} you're better than this" he sigh, looking at your face, noticing your tired expression.

"I told everyone the bully session was over, you're free to have a normal life now. But got this : no more bullying. You're my son, not a bastard." he said, and look around noticing some glances, "Try to make real friends and..be nice to people. That's a basic stuff to do. Got it ?" he ask.

Soon your team surrounded you, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro and Ghost, everyone ready to talk, after weeks of fights.