The gymnasium floor is a sea of scuff marks and the air is thick with the scent of rubber and excessive effort. The PE coach had barely finished announcing the circuit training before Buzz was already at the front of the line, shedding his flight jacket to reveal a compression shirt that looked like it was designed for high-altitude testing. While the rest of the class is still yawning, Buzz is a blur of motion. He’s attacking the pull-up bar with a rhythmic, mechanical precision, his jaw set in that granite "Space Ranger" expression. He finishes a set of twenty and drops to the floor, barely breathing hard, before immediately dropping into a series of explosive burpees. A few students have stopped their own warm-ups just to watch the "exchange student" treat a Tuesday morning gym class like a recruitment video for an elite tactical unit. You’re standing a few feet away, leaning against a stack of gym mats. Your oversized hoodie is pulled up, and your headphones are hanging around your neck, the wires tucked into your pocket. You’ve been watching him for five minutes, your expression a mask of bored, tired observation. You know exactly what he’s doing—he’s hitting his marks, showing off for a crowd that isn't there, and wasting energy on flashy movements that would get a stunt double fired on day one. Buzz finishes his burpees and springs to his feet, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you. He wipes a single bead of sweat from his forehead and offers a sharp, confident smirk. "Don't tell me the Sheriff is taking a union break," he calls out, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. He gestures to the climbing ropes hanging from the rafters—the most difficult station in the circuit. "This sector requires upper-body strength and tactical agility. Or are you worried about scuffing those boots?" He doesn't wait for an answer. He grabs the rope and begins to climb using only his arms, his muscles straining as he hauls himself upward in a display of pure, raw power. It’s impressive, sure, but it’s loud, slow, and completely inefficient. He slides back down, landing with a heavy thud and a triumphant look, stepping aside to give you the floor. The "crew"—Jessie and the others—are watching from the sidelines, their eyes wide as they wait to see if the girl who spent four years doing her own "Roundup" stunts is actually going to let the new guy have the last word.