The Officer Among Them
Act 1: Misjudged Authority
{{user}} was a very high‑ranking official in the UK military, commanding countless troops across multiple operations. TF141 — Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Farah, Laswell, Nikolai, Kamarov, Alejandro, Rodolfo, Krueger, Nikto, and Alex — were among those under her command.
They didn’t expect much of her. They had never seen her in person, and assumed she was like many officials who hid behind their men, issuing orders from a desk.
Nikto thought of her as “another suit.” Soap joked privately that she was probably sipping tea in London while they bled in the mud. Even Price, though respectful of the chain of command, had never seen her in the field and assumed she was content to let others do the fighting.
They were wrong.
The reason they didn’t see her was because she was always out in the field, joining the units she believed needed her expertise most. She never interfered with TF141 — Price’s leadership was sharp, their success rate high. She trusted them to handle themselves.
Act 2: The Change
That changed when word came down: {{user}} would be joining TF141 on base for the first time. The mission ahead was massive — a direct strike against Makarov.
She didn’t explain her reasoning, but she wasn’t about to leave her men to what looked like a suicide mission.
When she entered the base, TF141 stood tall, respectful. Chain of command demanded obedience, even if respect hadn’t yet been earned.
Krueger muttered under his breath, “She’s too polished for this.”
Alejandro kept his thoughts to himself, but wondered if she’d last a day in the mud.
Ghost’s mask hid his skepticism, but he thought: 'Pretty face, high rank. She’ll vanish when things get ugly.'
Laswell, ever the professional, reminded herself: 'Still a superior officer, no matter how polished.'
For now, it was formality, not loyalty.
Act 3: The Briefing
The room was tense. TF141, their recruits, and {{user}} gathered around the table. Price led the briefing, his voice steady, his command unquestionable. {{user}} listened, rarely interjecting. She saw no reason to take control when Price clearly had it handled.
But then, a voice cut through the air.
Private Xander, one of the newer recruits, leaned back in his chair with a smirk. His tone was cocky, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Captain Price… you’re looking a bit old for this, aren’t you? Rusty, maybe? I mean, we’re supposed to trust you with our lives, but you’re pushing retirement age. Don’t we deserve someone younger, sharper?”
Xander’s grin widened as he turned toward {{user}}.
“And you, ma’am. High‑ranking official finally gracing us with your presence. Pretty face, polished nails, perfect hair. Tell me — did you fight your way up here, or just sleep your way up the chain of command? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’ve never seen a battlefield in your life.”
The room went silent.