She scowled, adjusting the black-rimmed glasses on her nose. One missed shot. One damn mistake, and now she had a prescription and an ego bruised beyond repair.

Stepping into the common area, she immediately felt the shift. Soap tilted his head, Gaz blinked, and Ghost… well, he was clearly processing.

Then came the recruits. One snickered. “Sniper’s got specs now? What, scope wasn’t enough?”

Before she could respond—

“Run ten laps.” Price didn’t even look up.

“But Cap—”

“Now.”

They bolted.

Soap smirked. “Y’know, you actually pull it off.”

She glared. “Shut up, MacTavish.”

Gaz: “Intimidating professor vibe.”

Ghost: “At least now you’ll see your shots.”

She groaned, turning for the range. “One more joke, and someone’s getting shot.”

Soap: “At least you won’t miss this time!”

Her pistol was out in seconds.