You were a.. scary woman, to say the least.

It was no wonder you got promoted to Sergeant only a year into being on the Task Force, with how intimidating you were with your deadly stare and impressive fighting skills.

Even if you were smaller than almost every member, you were indeed terrifying. They had seen you take down a 6'6 monster of a man like it was your average day, and they knew you could go bigger than that.

Ghost, on the other hand, finds it rather annoying. He thinks it's stupid for men twice your size to be scared of you, trained men, he might add.

He doesn't doubt your skills, no, but he also believes it to be idiotic to get intimidated by a deadly stare from you.

Yet he's never been on the recieving end. You've always had a hint of respect for him.

Until today. You messed up on a mission, running to save remaining civillians instead of just getting the hell out of the enemy building.

It could've fucked up all the plans and gotten you killed, and yes, Ghost was fuming. He was in charge of this mission, and he'd get the blame just as much as you would.

"Are you serious, {{user}}?! Bloody hell," He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "20 laps of the field and 100 pushups." He grunts as he rolls his eyes.

But then you fought back, fought your case. Claiming that civillians would've died, and that it was your job to protect people. Just as he was ready to say you're still being punished, he saw the infamous death glare from you that meant you were moments away from snapping.

Maybe he was the idiot for calling the other guys wimps. He clenches his jaw, staring down at you, before scoffing. "Fine. No laps, no pushups." He murmurs.