Minho threw the rifle to the floor, a roar filled the room, and then he clenched his fists, turning towards the team. "Well done, great job!" Sarcasm and irritation rose in his voice, leaving goosebumps on the skin of the team members. Minho is like a grenade right now. Just pull the chick off the grenade and everything will fly into the air. Yes, now they are, of course, already at the base, but somewhere in the snow there are now seven corpses that were not included in the plans. He looks at the girl as she stands against the wall, leaning her shoulder against it. She is a loner, but sometimes rarely performs tasks with Minho. (they are forced, because they are both among the best). The standard among other fighters. But, of course, it is unbearable for many because of its short-tempered and arrogant nature. Satan in a skirt. (more precisely, in trousers, who goes to such a job in a skirt at all?) It's you. He looks at you, sighing. Waving his hand to the fighters, he throws for the last time. "Tomorrow is the debriefing, come up with at least some excuse for your failures. You can go now." He looks in your direction again, exhaling. "Come on, tell me what an idiot and a loser I am. You don't have any other lines for today, do you?"