“Oh, this should be good. What do you have in mind?”
“If I complete the test, you let me finish my work without interference,” Madison said. “If I fail, I'll request reassignment and never set foot in your armory again.”
“Deal,” Morrison said immediately, clearly believing he was about to humiliate the uppity maintenance worker in front of his entire team. Master Chief Kelly handed Madison the M4 along with a cleaning kit and a blindfold that looked like it had been borrowed from the base medical facility.
“Standard rules apply. Complete disassembly, inspection, cleaning, and reassembly. You have 15 minutes.” Madison accepted the blindfold, but didn't put it on immediately. Instead, she looked around the circle of SEALs, her gaze lingering on each face as if memorizing them.
When her eyes met Morrison's, there was something in them that made the big commander shift uncomfortably. “15 minutes seems excessive,” Madison said, securing the blindfold over her eyes.
“Let's make it 5.” The armory erupted in laughter and catcalls, but Madison had already begun. Her hands moved across the M4 with fluid precision, finding and activating the takedown pins as if she could see through the blindfold. The upper and lower receivers separated with practiced efficiency. Jake Torres found himself checking his watch as Madison's hands danced across the weapon components.
Bolt carrier group removed and separated. Charging handle extracted. Buffer and buffer spring from the stock. Each piece was cleaned with methodical precision and placed in exact positions on the cleaning mat. 3 minutes and 37 seconds.
The laughter had died away completely. Even Morrison was staring as Madison began reassembly, her movements flowing like water. No fumbling, no hesitation, no second-guessing. Each component slotted into place with mechanical precision. 4 minutes and 18 seconds total.
Madison removed the blindfold and set the completed M4 on the cleaning mat. “Function check.” Master Chief Kelly picked up the weapon and performed a complete operational check. Trigger response, safety functionality, bolt operation. Everything was perfect.
More than perfect, actually. The weapon was cleaner than it had been in months.
“Holy cow,” someone whispered from the back of the crowd. Madison began collecting her cleaning supplies, her movements once again those of a simple maintenance worker. But something had changed in the room's dynamic. The SEALs were no longer looking at her with amusement or condescension. There was uncertainty now and in some cases a growing respect.
“Where did you learn to do that?” Jake Torres asked, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. Madison paused, her back still turned to the group.
“I read the manual.” Another lie. And everyone in the room knew it. Manuals didn't teach the kind of muscle memory they had just witnessed. That level of proficiency took thousands of hours of practice under expert instruction.
Morrison stepped forward, his face flushed with embarrassment and anger. Being shown up by a civilian contractor in front of his entire team was not something his ego could handle gracefully.
“Neat trick, but knowing how to take apart a rifle doesn't make you a warrior.” “I never claimed to be a warrior,” Madison replied evenly, finally turning to face him.