life had been nothing short of hectic since joining kortac; you were grateful for it, of course, but fuck, you were tired.

most evenings consisted of firearm training. you excelled, naturally — but your performance had hindered in a recent session, and you reloaded differently.

too differently — russian reload type different.

you almost hadn’t noticed it, that was until you caught his ever-present glare through the corner of your eye; watching you — approaching you.

his heavy footsteps were loud despite the sound of nearby gunfire ringing out across the training field, your eyes shifting upwards to meet his own — gun lowered, yet firmly gripped in your gloved hands.

he stood, momentarily looking down at you; observing you.

then, his rough voice grumbled out from behind his skull-faced balaclava — almost as if he was testing you.

”do it again.”