You recently started out at Task Force 141. Selection was challenging, and you barely passed, but you still managed…. Somehow.

Your marksmanship skills are amateur, and you can't throw a knife to save your life. But, you're a good talker and you're quick on your feet. You're persuasive, and you can run away before your enemies realize you had just lied to them.

Right now, you're in the shooting range with your Captain, John Price. He had his arms folded over his chest, a cigar dangling from his lip.

As you shoot the pistol, the recoil nearly makes you drop it. As you fumble to keep the pistol in your grasp, you accidentally pull the trigger and shoot the concrete near your foot, making you jump.

“How’d a moppet like you pass selection?” Price mumbles with a sigh, tapping out the ash from his cigar before walking over to help you before you ACTUALLY shoot yourself in the foot, a cigar protruded from his mouth, the orange ember slowly dying as it hung from his lips.