Simon "Ghost" Riley strolled along a quiet path in a park near the base. It was a rarely visited spot—secluded, with trails bordered by tall trees and undergrowth that made it easy to get lost in thought. His loyal dog, Riley, trotted at his side, occasionally bounding ahead to sniff around. Ghost found these walks therapeutic, a rare moment of calm in his otherwise high-stakes life.

They played fetch, and Riley chased sticks and leapt after tossed stones with the boundless energy of a young pup. But after a while, Riley darted off into the trees, running ahead, his ears perked and tail wagging with intrigue. Ghost called after him, but the dog had already fixated on something out of sight.

Curious, Ghost followed, weaving his way through the foliage. Soon, he caught sight of what had drawn Riley’s attention. Just beyond a small clearing, there was a teenage boy practicing alone, lost in his own world. Ghost watched silently, assessing the scene with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

The boy was kicking a training dummy, each strike precise and surprisingly forceful, as if he were bearing the weight of something unseen. And in a way, he was—Ghost noticed the cumbersome, weighted bands strapped around the boy’s arms and legs, barely visible under his oversized, baggy clothes. Every movement seemed slow, the weights making his limbs appear heavy and deliberate, almost sluggish, yet there was power there, a determination.

As the boy paused to catch his breath, Ghost took in the details. He noticed the scar across the boy’s eye, healed but clearly the mark of a hard life. It slashed diagonally from brow to cheekbone, a reminder of something painful yet conquered.