Chokehold

                                    

                                          
I returned to the training facility the next morning, arriving at 4:30 to make sure I had all my equipment ready. Price arrived only seconds after I did, readying himself as well, and Ghost arrived at 5 am sharp. Price didn't tell him that he was late. Figures.
"You'll start with Ghost doing co-op exercises, then we'll switch to more combatives,"    Price looked at Ghost and smirked.
I felt a rush of heat up to my face as Ghosts' eyes landed on me, "you're point," he said before shoving an M4 into my hands. His voice was like a stone being thrown directly at me with no time to dodge. Just vocal cords with air being moved through them. I opened my mouth to protest but figured it would do no good.
"There are going to be live enemies, you have chalk bullets in your mag," I pulled out my mag and saw the small balls of chalk, nodding. "So do they, don't get hit."
The buzzer went off and I could hear the sounds of boots moving around the training area out of sight. My heart raced as I began to make my way from room to room, Ghost directly behind me, silent as always. I came to my first breach, remembering what Ghost did the day before, I stood and tucked the gun into my shoulder and leaned against the left wall. Ghost nodded and stood beside me, without a word I felt his hand tap my waist and for the briefest of moments I was dumb-struck and looked up at him. Remembering that was the signal for him telling me he was ready for the breach; I shook my head and threw my weight into the door.
Two men stood at the ready in full body armor, I hit one in the shoulder, but he kept coming at me, so I hit him again, chalk wafting into the air like dust. The other live combatant was already shot in the chest, Ghost's doing. Both of the "enemies" chuckled and walked through the door we had just breached signally that they were "out." I had played paintball before, but this was far more intense, and I knew that those chalk bullets would hurt far more than a paintball. My heart was in my ears, sleep deprivation was gonna be an issue today, so was the lack of a decent meal. 
I was frustrated, get out of your fucking head, Jamie! I said to myself. I saw the next room to the right and began to move to it, forgetting to check the back corner. Another live enemy, hidden behind a crate popped up and aimed for my head. Ghost swiftly remedied the assailant "check your bloody six, Ash."
"That's your job, Lieutenant," I said, not meaning for the words to be as disrespectful as they came out. I could feel the rage drench the air behind me, but I wasn't incorrect, as my  teammates were supposed to have my back if I was on point. I cleared the next room and then the room after that, my confidence was building. Each breach, Ghost tapped me on either my thigh or waist and each time it felt like an intrusion.
After a few hours of running different strategic plans, Price called out "take a break! Ghost, conference room now!"
He was already up the stairs and falling in stride with Price by the time I had processed what was happening and my body had stopped reeling. Ripping off the tactical vest at the top of the observation deck, bent over, placing my hands on my knees. Breathing was never this hard, why was this so difficult? My body was screaming at me to sit down. The bench next to the observation deck stairs was my haven as the men walked off. I waited for some time before I took it upon myself to head to the shooting range, I wasn't going to wait around for someone to tell me what to do, and I needed to work on my aim.
The sun was nearly setting when the range door burst open and Price entered with Soap and Ghost behind him, "there you are muppet,"
"Sorry, I wanted to get some practice in while I waited, sir," I said, putting your M4 down and standing at attention. Wow, my military instincts really were kicking in again.
"Good initiative," Price said, his next words were directly to the point "Gaz and I will be gone for a few weeks, we have intel on who is moving the missiles Laswell told you about," I took a deep breath, he must trust Laswell a great deal to be briefing me on such things. Soap didn't seem to carry the same sentiment as his face turned sour behind the captain. "Ghost will be taking over your close combatants training until I return, Soap will get you accustomed to the Tac-50 so you can assist with overwatch," he said, this was how he commanded his men. His words were like a warm hug, that would quickly turn into a chokehold.