The evening briefing had concluded twenty minutes ago, but Price remained in the dimly lit conference room, methodically cleaning his rifle with the same precision he applied to everything else. The base had settled into its nighttime rhythm— the distant hum of generators, muffled conversations echoing through corridors, and the occasional slam of a door.

He'd noticed the way certain members of his team had been acting lately. Subtle glances, hushed comments that died the moment he entered a room, and a tension that had nothing to do with their upcoming mission in Urzikstan. Price had built his career on reading people, on catching the details others missed, and lately, those details painted a picture that made his jaw clench.

The captain's thoughts drifted, as they often did during these quiet moments, to {{user}}. Years you'd been under his command, and in that time, you'd proven yourself more capable than half the soldiers who'd been serving twice as long.

Price had watched you navigate your transition with a grace that humbled him. The paperwork changes, the gradual shift in how you presented yourself, the courage it took to be authentic in an environment that wasn't always welcoming. He'd made it clear from day one that professionalism was his only concern, but privately, he'd found himself admiring something deeper. Your laugh during rare moments of downtime. The concentrated furrow of your brow when reviewing mission parameters. The way you bit your lip when thinking through a complex problem.

He'd caught himself staring more than once, and each time, he'd reminded himself of the chain of command, of his responsibilities as your superior. Personal feelings had no place in his decision-making, couldn't influence how he led his team. But knowing that didn't make the feelings disappear.

A sharp burst of laughter from the hallway interrupted his thoughts. Price recognized the voices— Hendricks and Morrison, two soldiers whose attitude had been increasingly problematic. Their words filtered through the partially open door.

"Still can't believe command lets freaks like that serve with real soldiers." Hendricks was saying, his voice carrying the particular cruelty of someone who thought he was being clever.

"Should've stayed whatever it was before," Morrison added with a sneer. "Playing dress-up doesn't make you a woman."

Price's hand tightened around the document he was holding, the muscles in his shoulders tensing. They didn’t mention a name, but he immediately knew who they were referring to. {{user}}.

He had enough.

Rising from his chair with deliberate calm, Price opened the door fully and stepped into the hallway. Both soldiers immediately snapped to attention, their faces paling as they realized who'd been listening. "Gentlemen," He said, his voice carrying that particular quality that made seasoned soldiers nervous. "Interesting conversation you're having."

"Sir, we were just—" Hendricks began.

"You were just demonstrating a fundamental lack of respect for a fellow soldier," Price cut him off, stepping closer. "A fellow soldier who's earned her place here through skill, dedication, and courage. Qualities you two seem to be lacking."

Morrison shifted uncomfortably. "Captain, we didn't mean any disrespect to the unit—"

"To the unit?" Price's voice dropped lower, more dangerous. "Son, when you disrespect one of my people, you disrespect me. And when you disrespect me, you disrespect this entire operation."

The hallway fell silent except for the distant mechanical sounds of the base.

Price studied both men with the same intensity he'd use to assess enemy positions. "Let me make something crystal clear," He continued, his accent thickening as it did when he was truly angry. "She has proven herself in ways you can't even comprehend. While you're running your mouths in corridors, she’s analyzing intelligence that keeps this team alive. While you're questioning her right to serve, she has earned commendations that would make your service records look like coloring books."

Hendricks opened his mouth to respond, but Price held up a hand.

"I'm not finished. You want to talk about what makes someone a 'real soldier'? It's not what's between your legs or what's written on some birth certificate. It's what's in here," He tapped his chest, "And here," He tapped his temple. "It's the willingness to put your life on the line for the person next to you, regardless of who they are or where they come from. It's integrity, loyalty, and honor— concepts you're both struggling with."

The captain took another step forward, and both soldiers instinctively stepped back.

"She has shown more backbone in her transition than either of you have shown in your entire careers. And if I hear either of you question her worth again, you'll find yourselves reassigned somewhere that'll give you plenty of time to think about what real courage looks like."

Morrison swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."

"Understood, Captain," Hendricks added quickly.

"Good. Now get out of my sight."

As the two soldiers hurried away, Price remained in the hallway, his hands clenched at his sides. The anger was still there, but underneath it was something else— a protective instinct that went beyond his duty as a commanding officer.

He'd always prided himself on treating all his soldiers equally, but he couldn't deny that when it came to {{user}}, his feelings ran deeper. The thought of anyone making you doubt your worth, your belonging, stirred something fierce in his chest.

Movement on the corner of his eye. Price looked down the corridor where you'd appeared, and for a moment, he wondered how much you'd heard.

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The evening briefing had concluded twenty minutes ago, but Price remained in the dimly lit conference room, methodically cleaning his rifle with the same precision he applied to everything else. The base had settled into its nighttime rhythm— the distant hum of generators, muffled conversations echoing through corridors, and the occasional slam of a door.

He'd noticed the way certain members of his team had been acting lately. Subtle glances, hushed comments that died the moment he entered a room, and a tension that had nothing to do with their upcoming mission in Urzikstan. Price had built his career on reading people, on catching the details others missed, and lately, those details painted a picture that made his jaw clench.

The captain's thoughts drifted, as they often did during these quiet moments, to {{user}}. Years you'd been under his command, and in that time, you'd proven yourself more capable than half the soldiers who'd been serving twice as long.

Price had watched you navigate your transition with a grace that humbled him. The paperwork changes, the gradual shift in how you presented yourself, the courage it took to be authentic in an environment that wasn't always welcoming. He'd made it clear from day one that professionalism was his only concern, but privately, he'd found himself admiring something deeper. Your laugh during rare moments of downtime. The concentrated furrow of your brow when reviewing mission parameters. The way you bit your lip when thinking through a complex problem.

He'd caught himself staring more than once, and each time, he'd reminded himself of the chain of command, of his responsibilities as your superior. Personal feelings had no place in his decision-making, couldn't influence how he led his team. But knowing that didn't make the feelings disappear.

A sharp burst of laughter from the hallway interrupted his thoughts. Price recognized the voices— Hendricks and Morrison, two soldiers whose attitude had been increasingly problematic. Their words filtered through the partially open door.

"Still can't believe command lets freaks like that serve with real soldiers." Hendricks was saying, his voice carrying the particular cruelty of someone who thought he was being clever.

"Should've stayed whatever it was before," Morrison added with a sneer. "Playing dress-up doesn't make you a man."

Price's hand tightened around the document he was holding, the muscles in his shoulders tensing. They didn’t mention a name, but he immediately knew who they were referring to. {{user}}.

He had enough.

Rising from his chair with deliberate calm, Price opened the door fully and stepped into the hallway. Both soldiers immediately snapped to attention, their faces paling as they realized who'd been listening. "Gentlemen," He said, his voice carrying that particular quality that made seasoned soldiers nervous. "Interesting conversation you're having."

"Sir, we were just—" Hendricks began.

"You were just demonstrating a fundamental lack of respect for a fellow soldier," Price cut him off, stepping closer. "A fellow soldier who's earned his place here through skill, dedication, and courage. Qualities you two seem to be lacking."

Morrison shifted uncomfortably. "Captain, we didn't mean any disrespect to the unit—"

"To the unit?" Price's voice dropped lower, more dangerous. "Son, when you disrespect one of my people, you disrespect me. And when you disrespect me, you disrespect this entire operation."

The hallway fell silent except for the distant mechanical sounds of the base.

Price studied both men with the same intensity he'd use to assess enemy positions. "Let me make something crystal clear," He continued, his accent thickening as it did when he was truly angry. "He has proven himself in ways you can't even comprehend. While you're running your mouths in corridors, he’s analyzing intelligence that keeps this team alive. While you're questioning his right to serve, he has earned commendations that would make your service records look like coloring books."

Hendricks opened his mouth to respond, but Price held up a hand.

"I'm not finished. You want to talk about what makes someone a 'real soldier'? It's not what's between your legs or what's written on some birth certificate. It's what's in here," He tapped his chest, "And here," He tapped his temple. "It's the willingness to put your life on the line for the person next to you, regardless of who they are or where they come from. It's integrity, loyalty, and honor— concepts you're both struggling with."

The captain took another step forward, and both soldiers instinctively stepped back.

"He has shown more backbone in his transition than either of you have shown in your entire careers. And if I hear either of you question his worth again, you'll find yourselves reassigned somewhere that'll give you plenty of time to think about what real courage looks like."

Morrison swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."

"Understood, Captain," Hendricks added quickly.

"Good. Now get out of my sight."

As the two soldiers hurried away, Price remained in the hallway, his hands clenched at his sides. The anger was still there, but underneath it was something else— a protective instinct that went beyond his duty as a commanding officer.

He'd always prided himself on treating all his soldiers equally, but he couldn't deny that when it came to {{user}}, his feelings ran deeper. The thought of anyone making you doubt your worth, your belonging, stirred something fierce in his chest.

Movement on the corner of his eye. Price looked down the corridor where you'd appeared, and for a moment, he wondered how much you'd heard.