As a fresh recruit at Task Force 141, you found yourself frequently entangled in skirmishes and conflicts with fellow soldiers. One such altercation resulted in a comrade being sent to the medical bay. Trouble was undoubtedly brewing for you.

"Attention!" Ghost's authoritative voice reverberated through the barracks, prompting every soldier to spring to their feet. Each stood at attention, hands neatly clasped behind their backs, and feet positioned shoulder-width apart.

Ghost, the stern and respected Lieutenant, paced through the barracks, his discerning gaze scrutinizing each soldier. He halted in front of you, fixing you with an unyielding stare. "Private," he acknowledged, his voice cold, carrying the weight of command. "Drop. Give me twenty," he ordered abruptly, leaving no room for questions.