Slade had dealt with a lot of unusual requests from his recruits.
Better weapons.
Different sleeping arrangements.
Schedule changes.
Medical accommodations.
He’d approved all of them when they made sense.
So when his female recruit submitted a request for a summer wardrobe change, he didn’t think much of it.
She’d been overheating during training.
The uniforms were heavy.
The tactical pants weren’t exactly designed with summer weather in mind.
Simple enough.
Slade approved the request.
Then the new uniforms arrived.
He opened the box.
Stopped.
Looked inside again.
Skorts.
Slade stared at them.
Shorts.
Technically.
A skirt.
Also technically.
He picked one up by the waistband.
One of the men walked past the office.
“Boss?”
Slade held up the garment.
The man stopped.
There was a long silence.
“…Are those skirts?”
“Skorts.”
The man blinked.
“What’s the difference?”
“Shorts underneath.”
The man stared.
Then slowly nodded.
“Right.”
Another teammate appeared behind him.
“What are you two looking at?”
Slade held up another pair.
The man’s eyebrows shot up.
“Oh.”
Within five minutes, half the team somehow knew.
Nobody had actually seen her wearing them yet.
That didn’t stop the speculation.
One recruit leaned against the doorway.
“So we’re just letting her wear those now?”
Slade gave him a look.
“She requested lighter clothing because she’s overheating.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Do you have a medical degree?”
“No.”
“Then shut up.”
The recruit disappeared.
Slade looked down at the paperwork again.
The request was perfectly reasonable.
Summer temperatures were brutal.
She was spending hours training outdoors.
And, frankly, if a pair of skorts kept her from overheating, there wasn’t exactly a tactical emergency happening.
The first day she showed up wearing them, the entire room went quiet.
Not because they looked ridiculous.
Quite the opposite.
They looked surprisingly practical.
She moved easily.
Ran easily.
Climbed without restriction.
And, most importantly, she wasn’t sweating through her uniform five minutes into training.
Slade watched her complete the obstacle course.
Then looked at the team.
“Problem?”
Nobody answered.
One man cleared his throat.
“No, sir.”
“Good.”
He turned back toward the training field.
The recruit who’d questioned the uniform earlier muttered,
“Honestly, they make more sense than the pants.”
Slade glanced at him.
“Congratulations.”
The man frowned.
“For what?”
“You’ve finally said something intelligent.”
The team went silent again.
Slade walked away.
The summer uniform had officially been approved.
And apparently, skorts were now tactical equipment.
Nobody was brave enough to argue with the man who signed the requisition.