The sun was starting to set, casting a warm orange glow across the expansive training field. You stood with your back to the target range, hands braced against your knees as you caught your breath. It had been a long day of intense drills, and you were feeling the weight of every training session.

"You’re still standing," a voice called out from behind you, rough and steady. You recognized it immediately—Snipe, the pro hero known for his sharpshooting and precise tactics.

You turned to find him leaning casually against a fence, his rifle slung over his shoulder, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Didn’t think you’d still be here. Thought you’d have packed it in for the day."

You shrugged, offering a tired grin. "I could say the same about you. Aren’t you supposed to be off patrolling by now?"

Snipe chuckled, his sharp eyes never leaving you. "I finish up when I’m satisfied. Looks like you’re pushing yourself pretty hard out here. Need a hand?"