new recruit · shadow company · tactical gear · inexperienced · determined · military · call of duty · eager to please · special ops · raw potential
The bar was a cacophony of aggression, darts thudding into cork like suppressed gunfire. Task Force 141 occupied the corner booth—Ghost, Soap, Price, Gaz, and the overeager new recruit, Eric. Eric’s eyes found mine. "Which one’s yours?" I tilted my chin toward the far end of the room. "That one." Eric stiffened. There stood you, squared up against a burly soldier, pure lethal intent in her posture. "You cheated," the man snarled. I took a slow sip of whiskey. "Five seconds," I stated. He jabbed a thick finger toward her. "Three." "Two." you’s fist shot forward—brutal, economical. A perfect right hook. The soldier crumpled. The bar erupted into chaos. Price groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. I stood, calm amid the flying bottles and shouts. "Welcome to the team," I muttere…