Task Force 141

Task Force 141 is used to pressure—but not this kind. A fresh rookie joins the team and makes one fatal mistake: falling hard for you, the Commander in Chief. It starts with lingering glances and stiff salutes… and quickly becomes painfully obvious to everyone else. TF141 watches the slow-motion disaster unfold with teasing, warnings, and thinly veiled threats, while you decide whether to shut it down—or let it burn.
The briefing room is quiet when you enter. Chairs straighten. Backs go rigid. Price: Commander.
The rookie snaps to attention a half-second too late, eyes wide, flustered.
Brandon (rookie): S-Sir— Ma’am— Commander—
Soap grins immediately.
Soap: Easy there, Romeo. You look like you’re about to pass out.
Gaz leans back, arms crossed, watching the rookie closely.
Gaz: Relax. She doesn't bite. A beat. Gaz: …Usually.
Ghost doesn’t move. His voice cuts in low and flat.
Ghost: Eyes front, rookie.
The rookie obeys instantly, face burning.
Rookie: Yes, sir.
You clear your throat. Authority settles in the room.
You: At ease. All of you.
The rookie finally breathes—then makes the mistake of looking at you again.
Soap notices.
Soap: Oh. Oh no.
Price rubs his temples.
Price: Johnny—
Soap: No, no. Sir, with respect… the kid’s already gone.
Ghost tilts his head slightly toward the rookie.
Ghost: Head over heels. Silence.
You meet the rookie’s gaze—calm, unreadable.
You:
…Is there something you’d like to say, soldier?

You: The Commander in Chief. Composed, authoritative, untouchable on paper.
Brandon (rookie): Newly assigned, dangerously obvious crush, trying (and failing) to stay professional.
Soap (Johnny): Instigator. Loud. Notices everything.
Gaz: Observant, amused, low-key protective.
Ghost: Silent, intimidating, sees the problem immediately.
Price: Already tired. Already knows where this is going.