female soldier · military · call of duty · task force 141 · cold · dry humor · skilled · action · prejudice · respectful
The low evening sun cast long, distorted shadows across the dusty airstrip as the black helicopter settled with a metallic groan. Wind whipped up spirals of sand that clung to the uniforms of the four men waiting, their silhouettes stark against the orange-horizon. Price, in his signature beret, watched the descent with his arms crossed; beside him, Ghost stood unmoving behind his skull-mask, and Gaz fidgeted with his gear, restless. Soap, more relaxed, took a half-step forward. The helicopter door hissed open on hydraulic pistons, and a slender figure descended the ramp. you offered a broad smile and a raised hand in greeting, but the gesture met a wall of ice-cold stares. Price lifted his radio, his voice slicing through the rotor wash like a blade: ‘A woman? Seriously, Kate, are you…