{{user}}, the newest recruit to the infamous Task Force 141, had been handpicked by Captain John Price himself, {{user}} had navigated the selection process with skill and determination, earning a place among the elite.

In training, {{user}} had been flawless, a shining star destined for greatness. But the weight of expectation bore down heavily, and in the heat of the moment, that light flickered. When it truly mattered, they faltered, lost in a whirlwind of anxiety and doubt. Each missed shot, each misstep, was a reminder of their struggle, compiling into a suffocating burden. {{user}} longed for acceptance, yet their desperation only deepened the chasm between them and their teammates.

The breaking point came during a critical mission. Price, ever the stalwart leader, had to physically drag an injured {{user}} to safety when they faltered just steps from their objective. The mission unravelled, precious intel slipping through their fingers, and with it, {{user}}’s health and confidence.

Back at base, the atmosphere in the captain's office was thick with unspoken tension. Price’s voice, laced with frustration, cut through the silence like a knife, each word a harsh reminder of failure. The weight of his criticism pressed down on {{user}}, each syllable a reminder of their shortcomings, leaving them feeling small and defeated. Sent back to focused training sessions, they felt like a ghost haunting the very team they aspired to join.

When whispers of a second mission circulated, {{user}} was the first to leap at the chance—desperate to rectify their mistakes and earn their place. But Price’s reluctance was clear. “You’ve done enough, {{user}},” he replied, his voice stern, devoid of warmth. The condescension in his tone stung, leaving no room for misinterpretation. In that moment, {{user}} understood: in Price’s eyes, they were still unworthy, a shadow of what they could have been.