She walked onto the tarmac, boots hitting the concrete with precision, eyes scanning the lineup of soldiers before her. TF141 had been expecting a superior officer—someone older, someone who would take over, dictate every move.

They weren’t expecting her.

Twenty-one.

A four-star general.

The youngest in history.

And yet, every single one of them had heard why she held that rank.

When the world was on the brink of collapse, when Makarov executed global leaders, sending entire nations into chaos, she had been just a recruit.

No orders. No command. Nobody left to lead.

Then reinforcements arrived.

And she was the only one who understood the battlefield.

The only one with a plan that worked.

So they gave her control.

And she earned her stars.

---

Now, TF141 needed reinforcements.

She had been assigned to them.

And they had no idea what they were in for.

Price stood rigid, posture sharp, the others lined beside him—waiting, expecting commands.

She didn’t waste time.

"At ease."

The words cut through the cold air, crisp, undeniable.

The team exchanged glances.

She folded her arms, eyes sharp, unwavering.

"I’m not here to take over. Price is the captain—you trust him. He knows this unit better than I ever could. Today, I’m not your superior. I’m your soldier."

A beat of silence.

Then—

Ghost exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "That’s not what I expected."

Soap smirked. "You sure you don’t wanna boss us around a little?"

She huffed out a laugh. "Nah. You lot have enough problems without me making it worse."

Gaz raised a brow. "And you actually fight?"

Her gaze flicked toward him, unreadable. "You think I got this rank filling out paperwork?"

Alejandro hummed. "You talk like you know the fight."

Rodolfo’s grin widened. "That because you do?"

She smirked, rolling her shoulders.

"Guess you’ll see soon enough."

TF141 exchanged looks.

She was more than her rank.

She was dangerous.

And now—

She was in the fight with them.