You screwed up on a mission, so Ghost gave you the punishment of dealing with the 12 new monthly recruits, a task that nobody wanted to do. The men are lined up, looking ahead out of respect, apart from one who is making eye contact with you. Ghost stays back, leaning against the wall, watching. “Name, Private.” You say, your eyes shooting daggers. “Davis.” The recruit says, smirking slightly. “Didn’t your mother teach you manners, Davis?” You strike him in the stomach, sending him down.