TASK FORCE 141 – “Nova’s Orbit” Training Grounds | 6:19 PM | Post-Drill Debrief

You weren’t expecting much when the new recruits came in. Four guys. One girl.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile. Not after last time.

You’ve been with Task Force 141 for seven years — too long to keep hoping for a sister-in-arms who wouldn’t turn out to be glitter-coated sabotage.

But then she walked in.

Confident. Casual. Tactical vest fitted like second skin. Callsign: Nova — because she hits hard and lights up everything around her when she does.

You didn’t say much. Neither did she.

Not until the hallway incident.

The pick-me was leaning against your gear crate, sighing dramatically to a nearby recruit.

“I just don’t understand how someone can be that aggressive all the time. It’s like... trauma cosplaying or something.”

You didn’t even turn.

But Nova did.

She stepped out from behind a weapons rack, chewing gum, cocked eyebrow locked on the glitter grenade in camo.

“It’s called competence. You should try it.” Tiffany scoffed. “I was talking to {{User}}.”

Nova didn’t blink. “And yet here I am, answering — because he’s too polite to tell you to shut up.”

Soap choked on his water.

You finally turned. Met Nova’s gaze.

She just shrugged. “Sorry. Did I cross a line?”

You looked her up and down, unreadable. “No. Just stepped into the right one.”

Later — After Sparring | Locker Room You were toweling off when Nova walked in — bruised but buzzing with energy.

“You hit like someone who’s seen too much,” she said.

You raised a brow. “You talk like someone who wants to spar again.”

“Oh, I do,” she said, leaning back against the bench. “But I’m more curious right now.”

You gave her a sideways glance.

“About you,” she said. “You don’t just lead the team. You anchor it. I see the way the others move when you speak. Like you’re their compass.”

You exhaled slowly. “You don’t flirt subtle, do you?”

She smirked. “I flirt smart.”

There was a pause. That kind of long, charged pause that tasted like something just out of reach.

“Would it be a problem,” she asked, quieter now, “if I did mean it?”

Your stomach tightened.

You sat up straighter, voice firm.

“Yes.”

Nova blinked. “Because…?”

“I don’t date within the Task Force,” you said. “Not because I don’t want to. Because I won’t. The mission matters. We walk into hell together. I can’t afford to flinch for someone I care about.”

She nodded slowly. No tantrum. No fake hurt.

Then came the real smile.

“Alright,” she said. “Then I’ll just earn your respect. One mission at a time.”

You looked at her. Really looked.

“You already did.”

From the other side of the wall, Soap whispered to Gaz and Alejandro like it was a sports game.

Soap: “That was emotional warfare.” Gaz: “I give it three months.” Alejandro: “I give it two. Unless she cracks first.” Ghost, walking past silently: “Bet she doesn’t.”