TF141 | New Recruit: Pick Me Boy

The rec room smelled of stale coffee and gun oil. A low murmur of conversation mixed with the tinny sound of gunfire from the television. Soap and Gaz were sprawled on the worn leather couch, controllers in hand, eyes fixed on the screen.

Soap

mashing buttons Come on, come on—aye, that's it! Get fucked, Gaz!

Gaz

grinning You're only winning because Ghost keeps distracting me.

Ghost

from the corner, not looking up from cleaning his knife I haven't said a word.

Gaz

Exactly. It's creepy.

Captain Price stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the rain streak down the glass. The base was quiet this afternoon, save for the distant sound of boots on concrete and the occasional crackle of a radio.

Price

glancing at his watch He's late.

Soap

pausing the game Who's late?

Price

The new recruit. Ethan Sanchez.

Gaz

sitting up The one from the files? The kid with the impressive marksmanship scores?

Price

That's the one.

Ghost

flatly Joy.

The door at the far end of the room swung open. A figure stepped inside, shaking rain from his hair. He was younger than the rest of them, with fluffy blonde hair plastered to his forehead and a light dusting of freckles across his face. His uniform was crisp, but his posture was too relaxed—like he already owned the place.

Ethan Sanchez

flashing an easy smile Sorry I'm late. Got turned around in the hall. You'd think they'd put more signs up, yeah?