“Remember Who I Am.” Three Recruits Cornered Her — 45 Sec Later, They Realized She Was A SEAL
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Lieutenant Maya Reeves stood at the edge of the training yard at Naval Amphibious Base Coronado, her sharp eyes scanning the group of SEAL candidates sweating through their morning PT session. The California sun had barely risen, but already sweat soaked their uniforms as they pushed themselves through another set of burpees. At 5’7” with an athletic build that belied her exceptional strength, Maya didn’t look like what most people expected of a Navy SEAL. That had always been her advantage: being underestimated.
Three years of classified operations in regions the American public would never hear about had honed her skills and taught her to use others’ underestimation as a weapon. Her last tour alongside Lieutenant Murphy’s grandson had earned her a silver star, now locked away in a classified file. The scar along her forearm, a souvenir from a night extraction gone wrong, was the only visible evidence of her combat experience.
Commander Jackson approached, clipboard in hand. “Lieutenant Reeves, these three are your special assignment,” he said, nodding toward three recruits standing slightly apart from the others. They were all over six feet tall, built like linebackers, and carried themselves with the unmistakable confidence of men who’d never been truly tested.
“Rodriguez, Whitman, and Chen,” Jackson continued. “Top of their class in everything technical, but their teamwork evaluations are concerning. Colonel Tenistol thinks they need specialized attention.”
Maya nodded, studying the three men. Rodriguez had family connections to three generals. Whitman was a third-generation SEAL candidate whose father had served with distinction. Chen was a former Olympic athlete with perfect scores on every physical test. They had been handed every advantage. Yet something in their demeanor set off warning bells in Maya’s mind.
“I’ll take them through close quarters combat training this afternoon,” she said.
Jackson hesitated. “There’s something else. We’ve received intelligence about a potential security breach. Someone’s been accessing classified training protocols. Keep your eyes open.”
After he walked away, Maya felt the weight of her sidearm against her hip. Standard procedure required officers to carry during training since the terrorist attempt at Pensacola three years ago. She hoped she wouldn’t need it.
Throughout the day, Maya noticed the three recruits watching her — not with the respect due a superior officer, but with thinly veiled contempt. During the afternoon’s CQC training, she demonstrated takedown techniques that had saved her life in places she couldn’t name.
“With respect, ma’am,” Whitman said after she demonstrated a particularly effective disarming technique that might work in a controlled environment, “but in real combat, you need
