Erica suffered through her morning with all the patience she could muster. She had always wondered why woman became a bitch when they reached sergeant, and now she knew. Women didn't get the same respect as men of the same rank. It was evident in the hundreds of clarifying questions asked of every order, all with the subtext of 'this is a stupid command', only for those asking the questions to nod along sagely when she revealed the orders came from Ski. The orders were idiotic when presented as hers, then not to be questioned when presented as a man's.

The difference in respect could have been explained away as the aura of hero worship that surrounded Ski, only there were incidents where one of the male soldiers beneath her had learned of their plans and started snapping out orders that everyone followed -- that the orders came from someone the same rank as them didn't seem to be a problem in those cases. Over time she had leaned further and further into the institutional power of her rank, wearing thin lines like 'this isn't open for discussion' and 'save your comments for the suggestion box'. Those overt displays of authority drove a social wedge between her and the troops. Daddy could alternate between playful and authoritarian all day long, but mommy lost all respect the moment she showed any sympathy.

The day had begun with a snide comment from Greg about the guard rotation favoring those who made it -- as untrue a statement as was possible, considering Erica always put herself at the dreaded midnight time slot and made sure everyone else got the opportunity to have first or last shift at equal rates. Then after morning PT, Cop Cody had asked if anyone knew what they were doing that day. Erica had responded that they were training offense/defense scenarios. He had made a big deal of asking if she was sure that was what was on the schedule, then backed down when the new kid Diego confirmed that he had overheard Ski talking about it. The damn kid had more credibility than her.

When Ski went next door to scare the students straight, Erica couldn't get the operations team to suit up in time, so when their leader returned to find the team taking their time, he punished everyone by having them do pushups while he suppressed coronas. After, he sent the soldiers scurrying to get changed into their uniforms and had her stay behind for a lecture on how she needed to step up and enforce discipline. She managed about two sentences of explanation that they wouldn't listen to her before Ski cut off the conversation with a pronouncement that she needed to make them listen to her.

She had been seething ever since then, barely keeping her composure as her half of the team alternated between defending random rooftops and attacking them. The attack tactics were fairly simple. Fly in using other buildings for cover as much as possible, meme blast the minds of the defenders, and then sweep in to corona wrestle at close range. Those were basically the defense tactics too, minus the flying. They could try to take advantage of terrain features when planning their defense, but the outcome was determined by who was best at enduring meme blasts and corona wrestling.

The offense/defense drill was not new. Yet her team barged in with poor coordination time and again as if they had never done it before. They didn't want to wait for her signal to charge and she didn't see much point in calling out orders that wouldn't be obeyed. They continuously lost no matter which role they assumed until Ski called for a break and took her aside.

"What's going on, Sergeant?"

"Does the Centurion want to hear an answer or would he prefer to skip straight to a lecture?"

Ski rubbed his face with both hands. "We're somewhere between one and three days out from a war. I don't have time for any drama. Give me a quick summary of the issue, Spencer."

"They don't like a woman being in charge of them."

"I would be more inclined to go along with that theory if the Imperator wasn't a woman," he said.

"They are terrified of Cassandane. When I give orders, or Sam gives orders, the soldiers don't hear orders. They want to debate us or sometimes ignore us altogether."

"Fine. I'll have a word with the operations team about respecting the rank. You pick up lunch and we'll see you back at headquarters."

"Yes, Centurion." Erica let herself drop almost to ground level before halting her fall, relying on the fact that a kinetic field enveloping an entire body could impart tremendous instantaneous force without causing any impact type injuries. She zipped down the street, around a corner, and landed before the soup and bread restaurant they had placed their order with that morning. Erica took a moment to make sure her face was composed and her eyes dry before stepping through the door.

Customers packed every corner of the seating area and more were lined up at the counter. She tried to catch the eye of the employee working the register as she moved to the end of the queue. When the cashier finally glanced up, the woman's face blanched white in horror. Before Erica could make sense of the expression, a bang sounded from behind her. A moment later, the room erupted into a chorus of shrieking.

Her back hurt. Turning in slow motion, Erica saw the barrel of a gun coming straight at her face. Without thought, she reached out with her corona and blasted the weapon, the hand, and the attached body as hard as she could. Plate glass rained outwards in an explosion as a mangled corpse hit the pavement outside.

From her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of another gun barrel pointing her way and she lashed out in all directions, plastering people to the walls hard enough to bloody noses and break arms. Breath unsteady, Erica reached down to touch the painful spot on her back. Her fingers came back red. "Shit." She looked around the room at the civilians caught in the crossfire. "Double shit."

The form with the handgun squirmed on the wall as if possessed. "Father God, let me kill this foul creature in thy name!"

Erica's mouth twisted into a snarl as she snapped the man's brain stem. She pulled her phone free of her pocket and dialed one of her contacts, noticing as she did so that blood was leaking out the front of her body as well as her back. "Varanelli? It's Spencer. I'm at the lunch place. Someone shot me."

The words on the other side of the phone were gibberish, barely discernible over the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. "I think I'm in trouble. Send help."