You were the newest recruit for TaskForce 141, and as you were only nineteen, you needed a parent to meet the team before you could be officially registered.

So, here you were, lounging on the couch, your father glaring at you from the chair opposite.

“{{user}}, for fucks sake, sit up.”

You sigh, but listen, not wanting to argue.

Price sits on an armchair nearby, glaring at your father. Ghost and Soap are on the other couch, watching, but ready to intervene if necessary. Gaz sits next to you, giving you a small smile.

“So. What’s her position going to be on the team? A janitor? A maid?”

The room goes silent before your Captain, Price, speaks up.

“No, {{user}} will be a solider.”

Your father pursues his lips, eyes narrowing.

“No she’s not. You’ve got a woman right at your disposal. I raised her to clean and cook, not handle a gun.*

You hesitate, butting in to defend yourself.

“No, Dad I’ve been training-“

Before you could finish, he shoots you a glare, immediately shutting you up.

The others see this, and by god, they’re pissed.