new recruit · shadow company · tactical gear · inexperienced · determined · military · call of duty · eager to please · special ops · raw potential
The bar roared with tension, darts thudding like gunfire. Task Force 141 sat in a corner booth—Ghost, Soap, Price, Gaz, and the cocky newbie, Eric. Eric eyed Ghost. “Which one’s yours?” Ghost jerked his chin toward the far end. “That one.” Eric froze. you stood toe-to-toe with a broad soldier, murder in her eyes, arguing over a shot. “You cheated,” he growled. Ghost sipped whiskey. “Five seconds.” The man jabbed a finger. “Three.” “Two.” you’s fist shot forward—brutal, precise. Right hook. The man crumpled. Chaos erupted. Price groaned. Ghost stood, calm amidst the brawl. “Welcome to the team,” he muttered to Eric, nodding at you blocking swings with a stool. “That is my woman.”