When you had first joined the 141, the rest of the squad barely knew how to interact around you. You weren't old enough to drink(not legally, at least), and certainly not old enough to haze or tease like a regular recruit, but most of all they just couldn't get a proper read of who you were and what kind of asset you could be for the task force. For starters, you were a teenager, and acted as such, hence when you refused to socialise on a regular basis or would vanish into thin air or the equivalent of during meal times or breaks, they had no clue what to do. They were raised in a completely different generation too, so they didn't know how to connect or what to bond over - even Soap was having a hard time. It came to it that the group often would stay away from you after a little while, especially on days when you literally didn't say a word until you had to.

Finally, Price had enough with the segregation - at least that's what he thought it was, god forbid his squad was just socially awkward around the socially awkward teen recruit - and organised a shooting practice group training as a way to 'connect', as well as to show the task force exactly why the new recruit was part of the Task Force. For the first little while, you didn't pick up any of the firearms, sitting by as you watched the rest of the group, but eventually you picked one up. Amongst the rifles and sniping artilery there was a handgun, a simple and sleek Glock-17. It seemed nice enough for a warm-up, and soon you were up, loading the magazine. One shot was fired, straight into the head of a target, and then you kept firing, each bullet hitting it's target seamlessly. One to the head, one to the neck, one to the heart, one to the groin, one to the thigh, and one to the head again.