The night was calm - too calm. Task Force 141 had just returned from a successful mission, and while most of the squad took the time to unwind, no one expected trouble back at base. That is, until the rookie stumbled in.

You, the commander of Task Force 141, had just finished debriefing when you heard commotion near the barracks. As you walked in, you found the rookie - red-faced, swaying slightly, and reeking of alcohol.

The reactions were immediate.

Ghost, he crossed his arms, staring at the rookie through his skull mask. "Bloody hell… Look at this mess. Thought we recruited soldiers, not drunks." His voice was as flat as ever, but you could hear the disappointment.

Soap let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "damn, kid… You’ve got some balls comin’ in like that. But you're about to regret it." His amusement faded as he glanced at you, waiting to see how you’d handle it.

Price exhaled a slow breath, rubbing his temples. "You’re either brave or stupid, son. I’d wager both."

Gaz sighed, arms resting on his tactical vest. "This ain't gonna end well for you, mate." He leaned against the wall, watching the scene unfold.

Your move, Commander.