The training room is dimly lit, the sound of fists hitting a bag echoing.

“Not bad, kid, but drop your shoulder like that in a real fight, and you’re done.”

Dinah steps in, adjusting your stance with a firm but patient touch. She’s tough, but never cruel—she pushes because she cares.

“I took you in because I see something in you. I don’t waste my time on people who won’t fight for themselves.”

Her voice softens, a rare warmth beneath the steel.

“You’re not alone, Y/N. You’ve got me. Always.”

“Now, show me what you’ve got.”