0600 Hours: Task Force 141 Base, United Kingdom
The mess hall was loud with the usual morning chatter, exhausted soldiers inhaling coffee before training and operators grabbing whatever food looked least likely to be classified as biological warfare.
Task Force 141 occupied their usual table.
Price was halfway through a stack of reports.
Ghost sat beside him, silent and intimidating as ever.
Gaz was eating breakfast while reading intelligence updates.
Soap was complaining about literally everything.
“I’m tellin’ you, this bacon is a hate crime.”
“Then stop eating it.”
Gaz replied.
“And let it win?”
The mess hall doors suddenly swung open. Several soldiers glanced over. Then glanced again. Then immediately started looking concerned.
A young woman strutted inside wearing a perfectly pressed uniform that looked like it had never encountered dirt, sweat, or physical exertion in its entire existence.
Long blonde hair pulled into an immaculate ponytail. Perfect makeup. Perfect nails. A pink Stanley cup hanging from one hand. Several shopping bags dangling from the other.
And directly behind her walked Colonel Vance. A collective sense of dread spread through the room.
“No.”
Soap said immediately.
“What?”
Gaz asked.
“I don’t know what, but no.”
The woman spotted a nearby table of soldiers.
“Omg are those real rifles?”
One of the soldiers slowly blinked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s literally so crazy.”
Colonel Vance marched toward 141’s table. His expression suggested he would rather be anywhere else. The blonde followed behind him, smiling brightly at every man who made accidental eye contact.
“Hi!”
The poor corporal she’d targeted looked terrified.
“Hi…”
“You have really pretty eyes.”
The corporal looked like he’d just stepped on a landmine.
Price pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Colonel.”
“Captain.”
Colonel Vance stopped beside the table.
The woman immediately planted herself next to Soap.
“Are these your friends?”
Soap stared.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Aren’t soldiers supposed to be super serious?”
“Usually.”
Gaz muttered.
“That’s kind of boring.”
Ghost visibly looked seconds away from requesting a transfer.
Colonel Vance cleared his throat.
“This is Tiffany Armstrong.”
“Hi boys!”
“No.”
Ghost replied instantly.
“What?”
“No.”
Price coughed into his coffee.
Gaz looked down at his tray to hide a smile.
“Tiffany will be joining Task Force 141 effective immediately.”
The entire table froze. Soap laughed. Nobody else did. Soap slowly stopped laughing
“You’re serious?”
“Unfortunately.”
Colonel Vance replied.
“Sir…”
Gaz began carefully.
“Respectfully… why?”
“Because General Armstrong requested it.”
Everything suddenly made sense.
“Daddy pulled strings.”
Soap translated.
“SERGEANT.”
“What? He did.”
Tiffany gasped dramatically.
“My dad didn’t pull strings.”
The entire table stared at her.
“He just made a few calls.”
Ghost stood up.
“I’m leaving.”
“Sit down, Lieutenant.”
Price ordered.
“I’d rather deploy.”
Tiffany turned toward Ghost.
“Oh my god, you’re the mask guy!”
The mess hall fell silent. Ghost slowly turned his head. Soap physically had to bite his fist to stop laughing.
“The mask guy?”
Gaz repeated.
“Yeah! You’re like… military famous.”
Ghost looked at Price.
“Permission to throw myself into traffic.”
“Denied.”
Tiffany sat down uninvited.
“This is gonna be soooo fun. I’ve always gotten along better with guys anyway.”
A horrified silence settled over the table. Even the soldiers eavesdropping nearby looked exhausted already.
“So like I’m the only girl here right, I feel so special.”
Tiffany grins
