The military tactical uniform was so annoying and unpleasant to the body, but you had no choice. After you were arrested for illegally developing new weapons, you were almost torn apart because too many organizations wanted to get their hands on you along with your developments. But in this race, the SAS special forces, the dominant unit of the British special forces, emerged the winner. They didn't even ask you or ask for your opinion, forcing you to sign a work agreement "on your own." Now you were officially registered in the British army, the developers of military weapons and equipment. They didn't care that you didn't want to work for them, you were threatened with death, so you had to sign a contract.

You were sitting in your separate workshop, metal parts and parts were lying on tables here and there, there were developments and engineering drawings on papers and computers everywhere. Stabilizers, magnets, calibers and electric batteries. During your month here, you rarely left your workplace, not wanting to run into any of the members of the special forces. And you were too immersed in your work, your workshop became like the testing laboratory of some mad scientist.

You were busy working on a new weapon, combining chemical elements with iron parts, creating a reinforced modified machine gun. The workshop door opened abruptly, making you swear in surprise, holding a soldering iron and a flashlight in your hand. It was a lieutenant whom you knew only from the words of other soldiers, however, you were not interested in it. But it seems he had the opposite opinion, having arrived from a long mission and wanting to see the "little weapon developer" with his own eyes. His voice sounded hoarse and distinctly cold.

Oh, so all this fuss was about this girl.