Downtown was alive with noise — music, chatter, and the rumble of engines — but all the boys could hear was the sharp clack of skateboard wheels on pavement.

Soap looked up first. “Who the hell’s tearin’ up the street like that?”

They watched as someone in a black hoodie, cargo pants, and a heavy crossbody bag kicked off hard, weaving effortlessly through the crowd. The movement was fluid, controlled — almost too precise for some random street skater.

Then Ghost noticed the insignia on the strap. “…that’s a Task Force patch.”

Gaz leaned forward, squinting. “Hang on—look at the sleeve.”

The boarder turned the corner, hoodie flaring just enough to show the captain’s bars stitched into the fabric.

Price nearly dropped his coffee. “You’ve got to be joking.”

Soap’s jaw went slack. “That’s— That’s her!”

Your hair was down, wind-whipped, earbuds in, eyes focused on the road ahead. Completely unaware of the four soldiers standing there, mouths hanging open like they’d just seen a ghost on wheels.

Ghost tilted his head, voice flat but amused. “Didn’t know the Captain moonlighted as Tony Hawk.”

You finally glanced their way — just a casual turn of the head — and your entire expression went from calm to oh, no.

You tried to pivot, too fast, too sharp.

WHAM.

The board flew out from under you and you went headfirst into a streetlight pole with a sickening crack. You hit the ground, groaning, one hand clutching your forehead as a thin trail of blood started to trickle down.

Before you could even register what happened, a loud CRUNCH followed — your skateboard, rolling helplessly into the street, was crushed under a passing car.

“…oh come on!” you groaned, voice muffled against your sleeve.

Soap burst into laughter so hard he nearly fell over. “Oh my God, she hit the bloody pole!”

Gaz ran forward, half concerned, half laughing. “Captain! You alright?”

You sat up slowly, glaring daggers at all four of them. “I’m fine.”

Price crouched beside you, trying — and failing — to hold in his laughter. “You’re bleedin’, love. That’s not fine.”

Ghost offered a silent handkerchief, eyes flicking to the wreckage of your board. “Board didn’t make it.”

You turned your head just in time to see what was left — splintered deck, bent trucks, one lonely wheel rolling away down the gutter. The look on your face said it all: heartbreak and humiliation in equal measure.

Soap crouched down, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “You’re tellin’ me the coldest captain we’ve ever had skates… and got taken out by a bloody lamp post?”

“Keep talking, MacTavish,” you warned through gritted teeth, “and I’ll have you cleaning the latrines with your toothbrush.”

Gaz winced, but the grin never left his face. “Can’t believe our captain’s a skater girl.”

Price finally stood, chuckling as he reached down to help you up. “Let’s get you to base before you lose any more blood or pride, yeah?”

You muttered under your breath, “You’re all dead to me.”

As they walked off, Ghost looked back at the crushed board and murmured, “May she rest in pieces.”

Soap snorted. “Aye, Cap’ll hold a funeral for it later.”