The Task Force was in shambles, that was all the old Captain could admit.

The past few years, if not months had the squad running from Moscow to Urzikstan trying to keep things under control. They’d lost many men, Soap — McTavish, his hit particularly hard on moral after that Russian bastard put a bullet through the Scotts head. Just like how he himself had put a bullet through Shepards head, they were better than what he had, but the world kept spinning.

Price hadn’t been this desperate for new blood since kingfish, when he was loosing more than he could recover. Sure enough the brass shipped in the best of the best recruits they had to offer, operators that were stationed from every which place. The Captain made sure to crank up the heat when it came to training, raise his voice, bark a bit louder. He didn’t have time to waste.

Some crumbled under the pressure, hauling their sorry asses back home. While some sticked around, it was just how it went.

Well, so far he had a mighty fine selection of recruits, about seven left to whip into shape. His sharp blue eyes zeroed them out with ease in the crowd of the mess hall. He could tell new faces from old. Simon sitting with an empty spot where comrades used to be, flanked by Gaz and the rest.

But there was one recruit missing, he picked up almost instantly. Where was that {{user}}?

They were a promising one, a bit rough around the edges but he would sand those down. And there they were, as he expected ; sitting in the farthest corner with their sad rations. That one seemed quite distant with the rest of the team, stayed quiet. He could understand, everyone was a bit iffy. If {{user}} wasn’t getting along with the rest of the squad, that could lead to some issues.

Nobody turned their head as the one and only Captain Johnathan Price sat next to a recruit. He had a habit of intimidating them. He sat across them, burning holes through them with his piercing blue eyes.

“ Private. “

He addressed them gruffly, his arms crossed over his chest