"Send it."

Elsa slowly let the breath she had been holding escape her lungs. She brought her finger down to rest gently on the trigger, just had she done hundreds of times before. The moment her lungs were empty of air, Elsa waited until she could feel her heartbeat. A split second after she felt the beat, Elsa slowly pulled the trigger straight back.

She barely even heard the gunshot. Years of practice caused Elsa fight back the instinct to flinch as the rifle kicked back into her shoulder. It was the perfect follow-through. Elsa's breathing pattern and posture remained completely unchanged, ensuring and accurate shot.

"Hit, one inch left of center." Her spotter, Olaf, informed her of what she could already see through her scope. The bullet had cleanly ripped through the paper target 700 yards away, just missing the bull's eye. Olaf was a shorter man with dark brown hair in his late twenties. Despite his relatively short stature, he was still an accomplished team member and a highly skilled sniper.

"The wind's picked up a bit down-range," Elsa whispered under her breath.

"I heard that, Elsa." She look over to the man lying prone next to her. He had already removed his protective earmuffs and was looking Elsa straight in her eyes. "One thing you need to remember is that perfection is rarely achievable. Even the best laid plans will fail at some point, so don't be hard on yourself. You were off by one inch at 700 yards. I don't care who you ask; that's impressive. You have talent, and that's why you're here now."

He was right, and Elsa knew it. A voice in the back of her head, however, continued to protest. She had something to prove to everyone who said that she couldn't do it. Females weren't generally allowed to even try out for Special Forces, let alone pass the grueling training course. Elsa had to fight bureaucracy and red tape every step of the way just to get started. She was almost positive the drill instructors pushed her harder than her male counterparts, yet she still passed. Not only did she pass, but she graduated in the top fifteen percent of her class. Despite that, she still felt the need to push herself harder and further than anyone else to prove to everyone that they had not made a mistake letting her in.

Elsa was also at the young end of the age spectrum. At only twenty-one years old, Elsa was the youngest member of their squad. Her deceptively slender frame hid the powerhouse that was Elsa Winters. Apart from her physical strength, she had an innate skill with firearms. She was top of her class when it came to marksmanship. During her childhood in Norway, Elsa had begun hunting deer at the age of six, rarely missing her target. After her family moved to America and became American citizens during her early teen years, Elsa continued to practice and hone her ability. To pay for college, Elsa enlisted in the Navy as soon she turned eighteen. It wasn't long before she fell in love with military life. The structure and rigid rules offered Elsa a perfect environment for her structured mind to flourish.

It wasn't long before Elsa wanted to do more. That was when she decided to push for a position in the elite Navy SEALs, much to the distain of her parents, who hated the thought of their only daughter in the thick of the fighting. But Elsa had always been stubborn. Stubborn and driven. It was almost harder to convince the commanding officers of the SEAL teams to let her try than to actually pass the training course. More than a year later, here she was, a full-fledged member of SEAL Team Seven, practicing with the other marksman in her new squad. Much to Elsa's delight, she was actually better than the two-year SEAL veteran.

"OK, twenty bucks says I can get closer," Olaf suddenly broke Elsa's concentration. During her week training with Olaf, the pair had started making playful bets on who could shoot better.

"You're on, Snowman," Elsa grinned as she turned her attention back to the scope on her rifle. Olaf settled into his rifle as he began his standard engagement sequence he prepared before each shot. Elsa helped in her spotting roll by calling out distance and apparent wind speeds at the target. "Ready?" Elsa asked after Olaf made the proper adjustments to his scope.

"Yep," was his whispered response.

"Send it."

Less than a second later, Elsa felt the shockwave and heard the report as Olaf's rifle sent another bullet downrange.

"Hit, one-and-a-half inches right of center. Pay up." Elsa held out her hand to man next to her to accept his payment. Olaf began to reach into his pocket to dig out his wallet.

"Ya know, I really need to stop making bets with you. I'll be broke before the week's out," he said as he pulled a twenty dollar bill from his pocket.

"Yeah, you will," Elsa replied as she took the money from his hand. By now, it was almost time for the evening meal, so the two snipers quickly cleaned their rifles before walking the nearly quarter mile path from the gun range on base to the mess hall. Elsa was still nervous around the other SEALs and to be honest, she was a little bit intimidated by men who were already veterans of dozens of missions. Elsa just ate with the other members of her squad.

The squad leader was Lieutenant Flynn Fitzherbert. Apparently his real name was Eugene, but went by the nickname "Flynn" due to his apparent likeness to Errol Flynn. He seemed to Elsa to be self-absorbed, but it was almost justified. The dark haired, dark eyed twenty-eight-year-old Flynn had been a successful team member for the past three years, eventually earning a position as squad leader.

The second-in-command was a younger redhead by the name of Chief Hans Fontana. He was closest to Elsa in age, but still was her elder by three years. Elsa hadn't spent much time talking to him yet. A veteran of four combat deployments, Hans acted as the squad's communications specialist.

The second newest member of the team was twenty-five-year-old Kristoff Bjorgman. The blonde man had a kind face, but Elsa knew he could fight if he needed to. She had gone face-to-face with him once earlier during the week. The fight was over in less than thirty seconds despite Elsa's fighting prowess. His large, linebacker-type frame certainly didn't hinder his nimble movements. The pair had become fast friends due to the fact both he and Elsa were originally from Norway.

Olaf "Snowman" Kross was the team's original marksman. Elsa heard a rumor that he had successfully made a shot from over a mile, but Olaf refused to confirm or deny that story, but instead decided to keep everyone guessing. Olaf's nickname, Snowman, originated ironically from Olaf's hatred for winter months and his love for summer.

Elsa herself already had an unofficial nickname as well. Due to the fact that she rarely spoke to people outside of her unit, members of other squads had started calling her "Ice Queen". The members of Elsa's own squad had taken to just calling her "Ice".

Elsa ate in silence as her squad mates talked amongst themselves.

Her new life was about to begin.

Author's Note: Please review and let me know what you think of this premise!