The Hunters

Chapter Forty-Four

"Repeat that, Sergeant," my mother ordered, having heard him as well.

"I know you heard me," he barked, his blue eyes boring a hole into hers. "With the level of nepotism going on, I'm within my rights to question the capabilities of an officer that's so new she hasn't removed the plastic covering over her new rank."

Darn it, but I looked. "Sergeant Russ, Kalberg is a highly qualified soldier," the Admiral snarled, instictively stepping in front of me even though I towered over her.

"Exactly. A soldier, not a leader."

One casualty might be fine. When my mother's face reddened as she prepared to verbally abuse him for his audacity, I stopped her. "I have nothing to prove to you, Sergeant Russ," I informed him sternly. "If you cannot conduct yourself properly in front of your commanding officer, I won't hesitate to remove you from the task force. A plane will be waiting for you."

The blue eyes narrowed on me as he muttered, "All you have are empty threats. I was sent on this mission because I am part of G.H.O.S.T.; I am more qualified for this mission than you."

A smirk grew on my face beneath the mask, humored by his declaration. "You're right; I won't send you off of this task force. Instead, I'm going to make you wish I did. You are dismissed, Sergeant Russ."

He left with a huff, storming past me as I measured his physique. He was shorter than Ghost, and only likely a couple of inches above me. "I cannot believe his attitude," the Admiral grumbled after he slammed the door shut behind him. "I'm calling Rodriguez as soon as I reach my office."

"No need. I've got this," I promised her, seeing her eyebrows furrow before a smile crossed her face. "I've dealt with his type plenty."

"You've got this," she agreed, squeezing my shoulder before dismissing herself. "You all have until 1900 to prepare before the official training begins tomorrow. Then, you'll have approximately twenty-one days to become that well-oiled machine."

I nodded firmly and she left, smiling at me on her way. Soap and Price jumped up from their seats, shaking my hand in greeting. I sat down with them, opening my notebook as I gathered details on their capabilities. We conversed four hours, discussing the members of Task Force 141 to add further details on who would be maintaining which position during the mission.

We took a break for lunch, bringing our meals to a private office as we conversed. Their eyes widened when I removed my mask, winking at them before beginning to fill them in on what they'd missed since leaving the Hunters. Despite having only known them for a short time, it felt like I was interacting with long-lost friends, conversing and laughing blissfully.

The fun eventually had to end and I sighed, returning my mask in place as I realized that I needed to speak with Russ despite how much I wanted to avoid him. I hated how much his attitude toward me was a turn-on, huffing in frustration as I asked an officer where the Sergeant had wandered off to.

Finding him in the indoor long-range gun training area, I sat back, watching him as he fired his rifle expertly. We had three phenomenal snipers, which would fit nicely with my plan to provide support to the boots up front via long-range gunmen. Tilting my head, I measured his skills based on the distance of his targets, notating where he needed improvement.

Hitting a red button near me, the large fans started to blow, creating a situation similar to outdoor wind. A flag blew with the breeze, indicating the wind distance and strength. I adjusted the power while Russ glared at me over his shoulder.

I ignored his glare, resting my face on the palm of my hand while I watched and took notes. He seemed weaker firing toward the left, hitting the target lower and to the right of the center. "Hit four again," I ordered, indicating which target for him to hit. Huffing, he shot, having the same issue as before. "Loosen your left elbow when firing in that direction. Two clicks diagnal; fire again."

Despite his irritation, I watched his left shoulder adjust as he followed my instruction before repositioning the muzzle. His bullet pierced the center and I nodded in approval, ordering, "Step back and reposition. Same target."

Russ shot a glare my way before lifting his rifle from the table, taking an obnoxious step backward before repositioning and firing. "Loosen elbow," I reminded him when his muscle memory tightened his left arm. With a groan, he adjusted and fired, hitting the target. "Repeat."

"Didn't take you for a sniper," he grumbled before firing, hitting the target perfectly when he made sure to adjust his elbow once more.

"Not a sniper." His exposed brows furrowed as he flashed a glance my way, before returning to focus on the task at hand. Increasing the wind, I instructed, "Six."

We ran through his problem areas and I admired his tolerance, listening to my instructions despite how angry they made him. As I increased the wind speed to the maximum level, he huffed and stepped back, declaring, "Now you're making this impossible!"

I smirked behind my mask, taking notes as I asked, "Would you fire a shot in this condition?"

"Of course not! You really expect me to hit on target at this wind speed?"

I shook my head, shutting my notebook as I stood. "No. I was testing your judgement. Good decision." I left while he grumbled wordlessly, heading to the mess hall to eat dinner before my flight.