"Get up." He stared down at you, emotion empty. You were bloody and beaten by him, his form of training. He was your mentor, his cruel methods were nothing new. You told yourself that this was nothing, you could take it.

He held the gun to your head, finger on the trigger, meeting your gaze. He never once stopped, the smell of blood and rusted metal in the air. "If you can't block this, then you have no purpose to me."