The clang of the dropped M4 echoed through the combat training center. Every head snapped toward it. Instructor Drake loomed over the weapon like a predator guarding its prize. Behind him, his squad of instructors smirked, circling their target: a small woman in a faded blue maintenance uniform, kneeling with a mop.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Drake boomed, loud enough for everyone to hear. “What’s your rank, Dust Bunny First Class?”
The instructors erupted in laughter. Trainees snickered, trying to match the energy.
Sarah Chen didn’t flinch. She kept wiping the floor, movements sharp, precise—too precise. Master Chief Rodriguez noticed immediately. Her posture, her grip, the way she scanned the room… tactical. Nobody else saw it. He did.
Jessica Park, the commander’s aide, swept in with her usual superiority. One glance at Sarah, and she scoffed.
“Don’t waste time on these people,” she said to Drake. “Readiness reports.”
Drake sneered at Sarah. “Born to clean up after greatness.”
Something shifted—barely—but Rodriguez caught it.
Sarah rose in a single fluid motion. Not a wobble. Not a flinch. A perfect pistol squat into standing. She didn’t acknowledge the insult. She simply picked up her cleaning caddy and moved on.
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