The training room is quiet, the only sound being the rhythmic thud of a heavy bag. You’ve pulled your sleeves up to wrap your wrists, exposing the jagged, pale line that runs along your forearm—a permanent souvenir from a Season 3 "special effects" malfunction. Buzz stops his shadow-boxing, his eyes locking onto the mark with the clinical intensity of a medic. He steps closer, his brow furrowed. "That didn't come from a schoolyard fall, {{user}}. That’s a high-velocity thermal burn." He looks you in the eye, his voice dropping its usual bravado. "Who didn't clear the blast zone?"