The morning had already been a disaster before you even stepped into the building.

Lockers slammed. Voices overlapped in sharp, anxious whispers. Even the fluorescent lights seemed harsher than usual, flickering against polished tile floors as if the day itself was unsettled. You adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder and walked into your classroom expecting the normal chaos—only to find something heavier in the air.

Tension.

Not the typical pre-lecture boredom or gossip-fueled energy. This was different. Students sat straighter. Conversations were clipped short. A few heads turned toward the door like they were waiting for something.

You stayed composed.

You always did.

Moving to your seat near the center of the room, you set your things down and exhaled slowly. Whatever was going on, you’d handle it.

And then the door burst open.

The sharp crack of it hitting the stopper echoed through the room like a gunshot.

Five figures entered with controlled force—precise, disciplined, unmistakably military.

First through the doorway was Captain John Price, hat low, mustache set in that unreadable, seasoned expression of authority. Behind him moved Ghost, skull mask stark and intimidating, eyes cold and calculating. Gaz followed with sharp focus but an almost amused glint in his eyes. Soap entered next, relaxed shoulders masking lethal precision. And lastly, towering near the frame of the doorway, was König, silent and imposing, his sheer presence commanding attention.

The room fell completely silent.

Your teacher, clearly both excited and unnerved, cleared their throat and stepped forward.

“Class...” They announced, smoothing their sleeve nervously. “Today we have special guests who will be with us for the next few weeks—Task Force 141. You will behave and listen carefully.”

They retreated to the corner of the room, arms crossed, watching like someone observing a live demonstration rather than a class period.

Price stepped forward.

Even the way he moved spoke of command. No wasted motion. No uncertainty.

“Morning...” He began, voice deep and steady, carrying easily across the room without effort. “I’m Captain Price. This is my team. We’ll be here for the next two weeks teaching you practical self-defense.”

Behind him, the dynamic was far less formal.

Gaz leaned slightly toward Soap, murmuring something under his breath. Soap smirked, crossing his arms as they both subtly glanced toward Ghost.

“Ten says he makes at least one cry before lunch.” Soap whispered.

Gaz’s grin widened. “You’re on.”

Ghost, meanwhile, stood perfectly still against the wall, arms folded over his chest. His masked face turned slowly, methodically scanning the classroom like he was assessing threats instead of students. Beside him, König did the same—quieter, but no less observant. His height alone made him impossible to ignore, his posture alert despite his stillness.

Their gazes moved over desk after desk.

Until they stopped.

On you.

It wasn’t accidental. It wasn’t casual curiosity.

It was assessment.

Price continued speaking, outlining what the program would entail—situational awareness, basic defense techniques, how to respond under pressure. But the weight of Ghost’s stare lingered, sharp and unflinching. König’s attention didn’t waver either, head tilting slightly as though measuring something unseen.

Most students shrank under that kind of scrutiny.

You didn’t.

You met it.

Calm. Steady. Unreadable.

And for just a fraction of a second, something shifted.

Ghost’s head angled slightly, subtle but deliberate. Not dismissal. Not intimidation.

Interest.

Price’s voice cut cleanly through the tension.

“You’ll learn quickly.” He said. “Or you’ll learn the hard way. Either way—you’ll learn.”

A few nervous laughs rippled through the room.

But the message was clear.

This wasn’t going to be an ordinary two weeks.

And judging by the way Task Force 141 was already watching you—

It definitely wasn’t going to be ordinary for you.