John Price had seen his fair share of hazing over the years. It was common for a new recruit to get the cold shoulder, to be tested a bit before they were fully brought in. He’d gone through it himself. So, when you joined the team and the others gave you a bit of a cold shoulder, he didn’t step in right away. Figured it was just the usual some gatekeeping, a few harmless pranks, something that would settle with time.

However, weeks passed, and it didn’t let up. The others excluded you from briefings, left you out of team meals, or “forgot” to pass on updates. He kept an eye on it but felt like stepping in too early would only make it worse for you. But today... today proved he’d waited too long.

The team was stationed at a temporary outpost, tight quarters, barely functional amenities, and zero oversight. You had stepped out to grab comms gear from the truck. You couldn't have been gone more than ten minutes. When you got back, your bunk was soaked, the mattress slashed open and tossed. Your gear had been torn apart and strung from the rafters, boots filled with toothpaste, and rations spoiled and stuffed in your pack. Even your callsign had been drawn onto the wall, just above a crude, humiliating drawing that made Price’s blood boil the second he saw it.

The others were laughing, but you weren’t and that was the breaking point for Price. Something in him snapped.

“That enough fun for you lot?” His voice cut through the room like a round fired into silence. Everyone froze as Price slammed his hand on the table.

“We break our own now?” he growled. “We sabotage our teammates in the middle of a mission? One more stunt like this and I’ll make damn sure none of you see another field op again. You wanna be a squad? Then fucking act like one. Otherwise, pack your shit.”

He turned toward you then, his voice dropping as he approached with care.

“That’s not happening again. You’re under my watch now and anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way, answers to me. Got it?”