Z-34 was definitely not pleased.
Not with the dead goblins. Not with the stench. And definitely not with 27-C acting like she ran the whole damn squad.
She'd slipped into command so naturally it made his teeth grind. The way she barked orders—short, firm, like she'd been born in charge—just rubbed him wrong. Who the hell did she even think she was?
He didn't say anything, though. Not because he agreed. Oh, no. Z-34 just wasn't stupid. The woman had a reputation. A bad one. There'd been whispers back in his district, stories about how she'd once knocked a guy out cold with her bare hands for trying to grab her rations. Another time, someone said she broke a recruit's jaw because he called her "sweetheart." Maybe it was just gossip. Maybe not. Either way, he wasn't eager to find out firsthand.
So he bit his tongue. Let her have her little moment.
But it still burned.
It burned goddamn it!
The irritation had to go somewhere, and unfortunately for B67, that somewhere was him.
