In the dimly lit briefing room of Task Force 141's headquarters, Captain John Price stood at the head of the table, his gaze fixed on the newest addition to their ranks. It was an unusual sight indeed—a teenager, {{user}}, barely out of their youth, surrounded by seasoned soldiers and battle-hardened veterans.

Price's brow furrowed slightly as he assessed the situation. The recruit had been hailed as a prodigy, a tactical genius with skills beyond their years. But the captain couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered in the back of his mind.

Price cleared his throat, his voice commanding attention as he addressed the group. "Gentlemen, meet our newest recruit," He announced, gesturing towards the teenager with a hint of pride and concern. "Despite {{user}}'s age, they possess skills and abilities that make them a valuable asset to our team."

Soap, the Scottish soldier known for his quick wit and sharp tongue, couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the sight before him. "A wee bairn in our midst, eh?" He remarked, his accent thick with amusement. "Tell me, Price, is this some sort of joke?"

But Price silenced him with a stern look. "This is no joke, Soap." He replied firmly. "Our new recruit has proven themselves capable in the field, and I believe they have much to offer our team.''

Ghost and Gaz, ever the silent observers, exchanged a knowing glance, understanding the weight of the decision before them.

Price turned towards the recruit before speaking again. ''Welcome to the 141, son," Price said, his tone firm but not unkind. "I hope you understand the gravity of the situation you've found yourself in. We don't take kindly to mistakes around here, understood?''