You were engrossed in a Call of Duty match on your computer while Soap, Gaz, Price, Ghost, Alejandro, and Roach relaxed in your room. Soap and Gaz were huddled together, watching a video on their phone. Price and Alejandro were deep in conversation about something, while Ghost, true to form, scrolled through social media on his phone in silence. Roach had claimed your bed, lying back and resting peacefully, occasionally shifting around.

You were dominating the match, easily taking down opponents, you were practically carrying your team but the trash talk from the enemy team was getting under your skin. They had their mics on, and the insults were loud and clear, the usual toxic comments aimed at you for simply being a woman in the game. How childish.

“Get back in the kitchen, bitch. That’s where you belong instead of playing this game,” one of them sneered, his comment fulll of anger and envy, the other enemies laughed in agreement. The remark made your blood boil, and you weren’t about to let it slide.

Without missing a beat, you shot back, “Get back in the garage, bitch, and change my tire. This game isn’t for you—that’s why you get shit on.”

Your response clearly caught them off guard. The enemy team fell silent for a moment, before their childish insults resumed, even more heated as you continued to wipe the floor with them.

Soap, Gaz, Ghost, Price, and Alejandro all looked at you with a mix of surprise and pride. “Got ’em, princess,” Price grinned, clearly impressed by your quick wit. Meanwhile, Roach remained blissfully unaware, still knocked out on your bed.