The annual Military Charity Ball. It was held during the middle of January to ease the minds of new soldiers and try and make people feel more comfortable and give them a chance to get to know one another on a deeper level. With friendly dances, drinks, and conversations. Sometimes, the Charity Ball had a theme, but this year, it was merely a fancy dress, so people were dressed in their best ironed uniforms, suits, cocktail dresses, and more. The smells of fine finger foods filled the fancy hall, and the fizzing of champagne could be heard anywhere you walked.

General Shepard was in attendance. He stood by a more secluded table by the stairs nursing a glass of whiskey in his best uniform. Most avoided him. Anyone avoided him. He wasn't the nicest or friendliest man in the military. He was merely watching and waiting for something to go wrong.

Of course, some of the most infamous soldiers were also in attendance. Mingling with one another and getting compliments left and right from the younger soldiers.

Captain John Price didn't have his familiar hat on and stood in his uniform with perfectly kicked back hair, a combed beard, and shined shoes. He was surrounded by his team, who weren't in the best of moods to socialise, having just returned from a mission.

Lieutenant Ghost stood in his finest suit with the tie slightly undone. However, the man wouldn't be seen without his black balaclava and skull mask and black gloves. Although the gloves were a black leather which he flexed every so often while watching the scenery. Keeping an eye on Shepard.

Sergeant Gaz stood in his suit, preened and proper, and a dark grey suit, his shoes shined and proper, and his favourite cap still back in the barracks, his cologne mingling with the other scents in the room in a fascinating way, he stood close to Captain Price.

Sergeant Soap was laughing warmly with one of the younger soldiers who just wanted to ask a few questions about his first mission. Sergeant Soap was always one to boast about his mission and glorify it as much as possible. His mohawk didn't have a brown strand out of space. He wore his special occasions kilt, he was proud of being a scottish MacTavish and wouldn't let it waste away.