Price stood with his team, his eyes scanning the horizon as they waited for the new arrival. Laswell had suggested a fresh perspective to help in the fight against Makarov, and Price trusted her judgment. Beside him, Soap was making his usual loud jokes about cultural differences, his laughter echoing in the otherwise quiet base.

"Can't wait to see what kind of food they eat," Soap guffawed, nudging Gaz.

Gaz chuckled, though more restrained. "Ease up on the new soldier, Soap. Let's not scare them off before they even get settled."

Ghost stood silently next to Price, his imposing presence adding to the air of anticipation. He seemed mostly annoyed at having to waste time on introductions, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. He, too, was eager to see who would be joining their ranks.

The rumble of an approaching truck drew their attention, and soon the vehicle came into view. It rolled to a stop, and the doors opened. You stepped out, your posture confident but not arrogant, ready to face the four seasoned soldiers evaluating you.

Price was the first to approach, his eyes taking in your appearance, assessing you with a practiced eye. Your uniform, bearing the insignia of your home country, was neat and well-kept. You had a calm demeanor that spoke of experience, yet there was an openness that suggested a willingness to learn and adapt.

"Welcome to Task Force 141," Price said, extending his hand.

You grasped it firmly, meeting his gaze with respect. "Thank you, Captain. It's an honor."

Soap, unable to resist, piped up. "Hope you're ready for some proper Scottish hospitality," he said with a grin, earning an eye-roll from Gaz.

"Don't mind him," Gaz said, offering a more subdued smile. "We're glad to have you here."