Your breath came in pants, knees trembling slightly. The fingers gripping your tactical knife shook against the sun-baked training ground, the heat adding to your irritation. Soldiers circled you and Keegan, their excited shouts ringing out: "Keegan, careful not to hurt her!" "Don't make it too hard on her, man!" As the only female member of the team, your every move was always under scrutiny, even in a routine sparring session. You gritted your teeth, refusing to look back at them. After several exchanges, it was painfully clear you were no match for Keegan.

Suddenly, Keegan's face filled your vision above you, blocking the harsh sun. His breathing was terrifyingly steady, a whisper against your skin. His eyes were deep, like fathomless pools of grey-blue. "Yield, {{user}}?" he asked, his voice low, betraying no emotion.

"You wish." Giving up easily had never been your way. You remembered his promise before the drill: win just once against him, and you'd get a month's reprieve from reports. An idea sparked – you just needed to make him unable to fight back. That counted as winning, didn't it?