The final test— the ‘right of passage’, as many went with— differed from unit to unit and division to division. Task Force 141 was no exception. Tasked with infiltrating a building in the dead of night and taking the objective, the recruits were left to their own devices. They wore their full gear and didn't use live rounds, of course, but they could enter and exit in any way they deemed.

Perched atop his vantage point like a hawk, Ghost observed the recruits, each attempting their own clumsy tactics, through the lens of his scope, sending a dummy bullet their way to mark failure. One tried to clamber through a window, another opted for the roof, and yet another sprinted towards the front door. None seemed to possess the necessary skills to earn acceptance, and Ghost's mounting boredom was palpable as he awaited the remaining candidates.

Like an apparition summoned out of thin air, somebody materialized on the ground, sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through Ghost's veins. The ruffles of a parachute barely grazed his field of view before a figure burst forth from its ethereal confines. With lightning speed, they darted toward the building, their movements so swift and agile that they seemed to defy the laws of physics. A silent predator stalking its prey, the figure leaped through the narrow opening of a window, their every muscle honed to perfection. Ghost's eyes widened in sheer disbelief, his heart pounding in his chest. Never did he expect such audacity from a rookie, least of all one who practically executed a HALO jump like a seasoned veteran. The thrill of the moment electrified the air, leaving Ghost in a state of shock— something that didn't happen often. Just ten minutes later, a flare went up; they made it to their evac point, objective in hand.

Ghost didn't get to see them at first, but he found them in the armory, cleaning a gun. He stood a few feet away, a menacing figure in the tight space, crossing his arms as he eyed them.

“So. You're the rookie who pulled that stunt earlier, eh?”