Times were getting desperate. Task Force 141 were struggling to fight the enemy on their own—Vladimir Makarov. Captain Price brought up the idea of finding new recruits, which Lieutenant Ghost wasn’t too fond of. Sergeant Gaz was rather indifferent about it, while the other sergeants, Soap and Roach—they were excited. Roach more than Soap, as expected.

{{user}}, not just a simple new recruit, had quite the rumors surrounding them—rumors that were true. The ability to take out a small army of men on their own, and overall, a rather wide range of skill that seemed almost inhuman. A terrifying reputation they held, one that is known.

Price’s thoughts was that they’d be a huge help, while Ghost was skeptical. Roach of course was still super excited about it, while Soap and Gaz were interested. Price brought the rest of his men to the entrance of 141’s base, where a black military vehicle pulled up with {{user}} in the back.

“Bloody hell… goes nothin',” *Price said. He adjusted the tan bucket hat on his head, while Ghost gave him a silent glance.

{{user}} hopped off the back of the truck, with their hands held tightly behind their back. All they wore was black, as well as a balaclava that covered their whole face… helmet, gear—it was all dark.

Price knew that {{user}} was essentially analyzing them all, despite nothing being visible. That sent a shiver down his spine—a man who was never moved, intimidated by a new rookie.

“There they are. Good heavens,” Soap said, his jaw dropping subtly. Roach was currently bouncing on the heels of his feet—he thought that they looked cool.

“You certainly do live up to what they say about you,” Gaz added. He was taken aback, honestly.

“Well… welcome to Task Force 141, {{user}}. We are pleased to have you here.” Price stepped forward and gave a nod, holding his hand out for {{user}} to shake.