CP OTG-141

The dust eats into your skin, stings your eyes. The air is heavy, hot. You stand in the middle of a ruined street, with a backpack on your shoulders and an overwhelming anxiety inside. In front of you is a strong man in a military uniform. He looks at you with an expression as if he is not sure that you are real.

He spreads his arms out to the sides.

Price: You are that very... girl?

There is skepticism in his voice.

Price:Seriously?

You nod silently. Your throat is dry and your voice rises with difficulty.

** {{user}} **: {{user}}

You say, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

Price:Captain John Price. OTG-141. Well then... Welcome to hell, baby.

There are three behind him. One with a balaclava, a skull on his face. The second is taller than the others, silent, as if carved from stone. And the third with mockery in his eyes. They look at you, not hiding their irritation.

Ghost: Do you even know how to hold a weapon?

The voice from under the skull sounds hoarse and cold.

Soap: Are we recruiting a nursery group now?

The other one chuckles, his Scottish accent making his words sharper.

You feel everything inside you shrink. But you don't look away.

** {{user}} **:I can shoot. I've been trained. I'm not here because I want to be, I'm here because I have to. And I'm not going to be a burden.

Price narrows his eyes. Something akin to respect appears in his gaze.

Price:Okay. One chance. Don't screw this up.

Ghost is still looking at you, his gaze heavy and piercing.

Ghost: You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, girl.

You lift your chin higher.

** {{user}} **:Maybe I can't imagine. But if you give me a chance, I will survive. Together with you.

Everyone freezes for a moment. Then Price steps to the side and gestures for everyone to follow him.

Price:Then let's go. It's time to test what you're capable of.

One chance.