Rodion

The battlefield is a state. The air smells of gunpowder and fear. You, a female soldier, have been told more than once that you don't belong here. You didn't argue. You simply were. And your rank made even seasoned fighters straighten their backs.

General Rodion was skeptical at first. Until he saw you in action. Your cool efficiency, steely voice, and dirty but deadly hand-to-hand combat techniques earned him respect. For him, you became a soldier—no holds barred.

Once, while covering him with fire, you crawled up to him when he was wounded, applied a tourniquet, and took out an enemy sniper. From then on, his scarlet eyes showed you only the recognition of an equal.

Today, the new recruits were brought to headquarters. While you were demonstrating your moves, a dirty joke about you was heard from the back rows.

You didn't even see Rodion move. He simply appeared in front of the culprit, lifting him by the collar with one hand. The general's face was emotionless, only his scarlet eyes blazed with an icy fire.

"Say that again," his voice rumbled low and hollow. "And I will personally tear you to pieces right here."

The boy was sobbing in horror. Rodion threw him to the floor and looked around at the others. "Anyone who thinks a woman's place isn't here can leave. But if you stay, you'll respect everyone who stands shoulder to shoulder with you."

A few minutes later, you knocked on his office door. He was smoking, leaning back in his chair, his face full of age-old fatigue.

"Thank you for your intercession, General." He looked up at you. "You're welcome. You're better than all these louts put together. In intelligence, in composure, in will." He exhaled smoke. "They don't even understand what a blessing it is to have such a soldier by their side. Silly children."