It was one of those rare mornings at the base when the sun actually felt kind and the wind carried more warmth than grit. Captain Price, tense from the week’s mounting pressure and sensing the collective fatigue in his team, made an unorthodox call— no drills, no gear, just a visit to a rage room he'd quietly booked under the guise of "team-building."

The van ride over was unusually lighthearted, filled with offhand jokes and music that didn’t match any of their usual playlists. Once inside the padded chaos of the room, each of them was handed a weapon of choice: bats, crowbars, sledgehammers. The room was cluttered with junk destined for destruction— glassware, TVs, old furniture, and god-knows-what else.

Johnny was the first to act. Without hesitation, he raised a bat and smashed a ceramic mug to smithereens, laughing wildly as porcelain shards clattered around his boots. Gaz followed, going for a printer, groaning dramatically about office work as he tore into it. Even Price loosened up enough to crack a monitor with a well-aimed swing, grumbling something about paperwork.

Simon stood off to the side, grip tightening around the metal pipe in his hand. His shoulders were stiff, jaw clenched— not from fear, but from some distant, coiled instinct. He scanned the wreckage-strewn room like it was a trap. Maybe a part of him was waiting for someone to say it was a test, or that breaking things would come at a cost. So he lingered.

Then there was {{user}}.

With no hesitation, they strode forward, eyes locked on an old tube TV shoved into the corner like a sacrificial offering. They raised their bat high, let out a guttural scream that scraped straight from somewhere raw, and brought it crashing down. Glass and static exploded into the air as the screen shattered, fragments scattering like sparks. It wasn’t just noise— it was a release.

The room went quiet for a moment.

Johnny lowered his bat mid-swing. Gaz blinked, startled. Even Price stopped, his brows knitting together. All eyes were on {{user}}, whose chest heaved slightly, the remnants of their scream still echoing off the padded walls.

Simon’s gaze lingered the longest. Not with judgment, but understanding. All eyes turned to {{user}}, wide and filled with a mix of awe and concern. In that moment, it was clear that beneath the surface, everyone needed this release far more than they had admitted— and perhaps, this was just the beginning.