The café was buzzing with the usual Friday crowd, but four pairs of eyes were locked onto one corner like predators spotting prey.

“Wait… is that—” Soap’s voice was barely a whisper, though his disbelief practically vibrated through it.

Price tilted his head, recognizing the unmistakable figure: their SWAT captain, the same woman who could make the entire team sweat with a single glare. Ghost, ever silent, simply observed. Gaz smirked knowingly.

She was… unrecognizable. Her hair flowed freely, dark and glossy, cascading all the way to her lower back. Her piercings — lip, nose, tongue, and a constellation of earrings — caught the light. Tattoos adorned her arms, chest, and the portion of her back visible through her tank top. Even through the tears in her ripped jeans, they could see the intricate ink running down her leg. Combat boots, layered bracelets, rings, and necklaces completed the ensemble — a deliberate chaos that somehow made her look entirely herself.

But it wasn’t her look that stunned them — it was how she commanded the table. Spread before her were dice trays, meticulously labeled binders, and character sheets. She leaned forward, pencil tapping decisively against the table, running a Dungeons & Dragons session with precision and authority.

“The dragon is circling above the cavern,” she said, voice calm but absolutely commanding. “Perception check first. Then actions. Go.”

Her friends cheered, rolled dice, and argued strategy, and she orchestrated everything with the same tactical genius she displayed on missions — rewarding creativity, mediating disputes, and keeping everyone on track with almost military efficiency.

Soap nearly choked on his coffee. “She’s… terrifyingly good.”

Gaz grinned. “No wonder she takes Fridays off. She’s not slacking; she’s running a full campaign.”

Price, arms crossed and leaning casually, shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Never doubted it. She’s just never on time when she’s doing what she loves.”

Ghost, as usual, didn’t comment — just watched, noting how her strategy and control over this fictional battlefield mirrored her perfectionism in real life.

They observed her for a few more minutes. Every gesture was precise, every dice roll deliberate, every laugh sharp and clear. She was fierce, organized, and utterly in her element.

And then — she looked up. Her eyes widened slightly, scanning the four faces staring back at her.

“…What,” she said, voice sharp, but the faint twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her astonishment.

Soap grinned. “Captain… didn’t know you were this… tactical in your downtime.”

Price leaned against the doorway, smirking. “So that’s why Fridays are sacred.”

Her hands flexed over the dice tray, jaw tight. “You all are going to regret seeing this side of me.”

But even as her stern mask returned, the team knew one undeniable truth: the Dragon Captain had a whole other life, and they had just found it.