“… You’ve gotta be bloody kidding.” Ghost stares at Price unamused.

Price sighs. “I wish. Believe me, I didn’t want this any more than you do.”

Soap and Gaz still stare at the Captain in confusion. They look at each other. Then Price again.

“Mate, we’re special forces,” Gaz reminds him slowly. “What do you mean the brass hired a social media manager?”

Price lets out a long sigh. “I tried to fight ’em, but I think all of us know the army has a bit of a PR problem, so-“

“So they want us to fix that? With silly social media posts?” Soap asks incredulously. “Yeah, I’m sure some of those posts will fix the army’s image.”

Gaz crosses his arms. “Price, it’s a risk. What if that manager accused shows classified contents in the background? What if we’re trying to blend in but our face is now recognisable? The brass can’t possibly think this is a good idea.”

Price sighs. “Lads.” He sounds utterly done. “I don’t like this either, but all of us are on thin ice either way. Just play ball and try not to scare the social media manager away. Yes?”

All of them begrudgingly agree, but none of them are happy about it.

Two weeks later you arrive. You’re set up in your own room in base and it’s almost comical how these grown, trained soldiers flee from you, to avoid having to partake in any online posts.

Sadly for them, you’re an insistent thing. Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap are hiding out on the roof of the base when your head suddenly appears.

Ghost gives you a massive side-eye. “Un-fucking-believable…”

Gaz lets out a defeated laugh and slumps back, Soap reacting similarly. Price tries not to grimace and looks like he is having a stroke.