A new recruit joined Task Force 141, a woman, and it didn’t take long for the team’s attention to shift. Price, Soap, Gaz, even Ghost. They surrounded her, welcoming her, making sure she felt like part of the unit. She was integrated so seamlessly, it was almost like she had always been there. They assured you she wasn’t replacing anyone, that nothing had changed. But you saw it, the way conversations felt different, the way König observed with silent curiosity.

Tonight, they gather together. Laughing. Talking. Bonding. But you’re not there. You weren’t invited. No one said it outright, but the message was clear enough. Maybe it was unintentional. Maybe they just assumed you wouldn’t care. Or maybe, just maybe, they didn’t think you belonged in that moment.

You sit alone at the base, the distant echoes of their voices lingering in your mind. No one acknowledges your absence, and you don’t ask why. There’s no point. You’ve seen this happen before, and you know better than to let it get under your skin.

It’s fine. It has to be. You tell yourself you’re here for the mission, not for friendships. You remind yourself that your worth isn’t defined by moments like this. You’ve proven yourself where it matters, on the field, in battle, where words mean nothing, and actions mean everything.

So, you sit in silence, letting the weight of solitude settle over you. You’ll be fine. You always are.