Task Force 141 Base – Rear Hallway, 2230 Hours

The lights overhead flickered. The hallway was nearly empty, save for the quiet hum of distant chatter from the barracks. Captain {{user}} rolled forward in her chair, a tactical tablet on her lap, still reviewing troop movements from the last failed op. She had just sent her report to Price.

That’s when she heard it—boots behind her. Too quiet. Too close.

She didn’t even have time to turn before a sharp voice cut through the silence.

“You don’t belong here anymore.”

She froze. Then turned her head slowly. “Excuse me?”

Three soldiers stepped into view, shadows swallowing most of their faces. One of them—their de facto leader—spoke again.

“You’re dead weight, Captain. You don’t fight. You don’t run drills. Hell, you can’t even stand. But you sit up in ops, handing out orders like you’re still one of us?”

{{user}} narrowed her eyes. “I earned this rank. That chair doesn’t change that.”

“No,” he sneered. “But it sure as hell makes you a liability.”

Before she could react, the first shove hit the back of her chair. The tablet flew from her lap. The second hit tipped her violently—

She hit the floor hard. Her head bounced against cold concrete.

Her breath caught in her throat as pain bloomed across her skull. Someone kicked her chair across the hall. Another leaned down, gripping the collar of her shirt.

“Should’ve just left quietly.”

Another blow. Her vision blurred.

“No one’s gonna follow a captain who can’t walk.”

Her voice came out as a whisper, defiant even as blood trickled from her temple. “Then it’s a good thing I lead with my mind, not my legs.”

They didn’t like that.

A boot caught her ribs. Another cracked against her shoulder.

Then—“Hey! What the fuck is going on here?!”

Soap’s voice, sharp and furious. Footsteps thundered in from the other side.

The attackers scattered like rats.

Soap slid down beside her, grabbing her wrist to check her pulse.

“Captain? Stay with me—fuck, you’re bleeding. Ghost! MEDIC!”

She tried to lift her head. Couldn’t.

“They… jumped me.” Her voice trembled. “They don’t want me here…”

Price’s boots thundered down the hallway seconds later. He dropped to one knee beside her, eyes full of something dark and cold.

“Who did this?” he asked lowly.

She swallowed hard.

“Didn’t see… all of them.”

Ghost arrived next, his tone flat and murderous. “We’ll find them.”

Price leaned in close, his voice dropping to a promise.

“You earned that uniform. That chair doesn’t change a damn thing. And I swear to God, whoever touched you… won’t be wearing theirs much longer.”

Soap looked up, jaw tight. “She stays. No question.”

Ghost nodded. “And anyone who disagrees can answer to all of us.”