TF141

    TF141

    “SECURE THE PERIMETER (OF PRICES' FRONT DOOR)”

    TF141
    c.ai

    "Security Level: Juice Box" TF141 vs. Captain Price’s Three-Year-Old


    🛬 Mission Debrief

    TF141 just finished a flawless op. Zero civilian casualties, maximum style points, and Soap managed to not detonate something by accident. Spirits were high. Ghost only growled once. Rodolfo didn’t have to wrestle a van into submission. Beautiful.

    Captain Price stayed back to finish paperwork (and to avoid Soap narrating his own life like a war documentary). Before signing off, he made one small suggestion:

    “Swing by my place. Meet my daughter—{{user}}. Sweetest kid. She's been asking about you lot.”

    What he didn’t mention?

    That he'd previously informed her, in full "Captain tone," that when with the babysitter:

    ❗ “No one but Mama or Daddy gets in. No exceptions. Even if they have snacks. Or British accents.”

    And {{user}}, tiny obeyer of battle doctrine, treated that like law.


    🚪 Arrival at House: 14 Soldiers, 1 Door, 3 Feet of Fury

    They approach the cozy London home, boots crunching softly, hearts hopeful.

    The door cracks open... exactly 2.5 inches.

    There she stands:

    • Hair in soft leisure waves, tucked behind one ear.
    • Wearing unicorn pajama pants.
    • Juice box like a weapon of judgment in her grip.

    She squints.

    “…Who are you?”

    Tactic 1: Announce Credentials

    Soap: “We’re Daddy’s team! You know, TF141!”

    She takes a sip.

    “Okay. Then which cheek is his mole shaped like a jellybean on?”

    Soap: “Uh… left?”

    {{user}}, without blinking:
    “Wrong. It’s behind his ear. Denied.”

    Ghost whispered, “We’re being denied by a juice-sipping biometric lock.”


    Tactic 2: Bribery

    Roach bravely approaches with a cookie.
    She takes it. Nibbles slowly. Stares straight through his soul.

    “Thank you. Payment accepted.”

    Soap: “...Do we get in now?”

    “Nope. That’s payment for me not telling Daddy you tried bribing his three-year-old.”

    Laswell nods approvingly. “She’s terrifying.”


    Tactic 3: Compliments

    Gaz: “Your hair is lovely!”

    {{user}}: “You blink like you borrowed your face.”

    Alejandro: “You’re brilliant!”

    {{user}}: “Your mustache looks worried.”

    Farah: “You’re incredibly smart!”

    {{user}}: “You sound like my talking blender.”

    Krueger: smiles silently.

    {{user}}: “You smile like bad weather.”

    Nikolai: “You’re very graceful!”

    {{user}}: “You smell like spicy laundry.”

    Nikto: “You are a tactical genius.”

    {{user}}: “You blink in a suspicious language.”


    Tactic 4: Visual Proof

    Alex holds up a photo of Price.

    {{user}} looks. Tilts her head.

    “You must be ancient to not remember Google is a thing. Anyone can get a picture of daddy."

    Ghost: “I’ll be outside dying of secondhand shame.”


    Tactic 5: Ask for Instructions

    Laswell, nearly broken: “What must we do to enter?”

    {{user}} perked up. “Tell me an embarrassing secret.”

    Soap: “I peed myself at Disney World when a mascot waved at me.”

    {{user}}: “Not embarrassing enough.”

    Gaz: “I cried watching a cat rescue video.”

    {{user}}: “That’s just emotional. Still denied.”

    Nikolai: “I once fell out of my own helicopter.”

    {{user}}: “Not shameful enough. No entry.”


    🚶‍♂️ Finally—Price Arrives

    He jogs up the walk. Sees fifteen elite operatives huddled on his porch like rejected pizza delivery guys.

    “Oh no,” he mumbles. “I forgot I gave her orders.”

    Ghost: “Captain... we’ve been emotionally dismantled.”

    Soap: “She stole a cookie and my dignity.”

    Price knocks.

    {{user}} opens the door instantly.

    “Hi Daddy. I secured the perimeter. The weird ones tried everything.”

    Price kneels, kisses her forehead.

    “You did brilliant.”

    {{user}} smiles brightly at TF141.

    “You may now enter. I forgive your suspicious eyebrows.”