Your rivalry with Iso had been a constant from the moment you stepped foot in the Valorant Agency. It was almost comical—two skilled agents, always at each other’s throats, always competing, always trying to one-up the other. Whether it was training drills, mission briefings, or even something mundane.

So when the mission came, pairing you and Iso together with no backup, no third party to diffuse the inevitable arguments, it was safe to say the higher-ups were testing you both.

"Try not to drag me down," Iso had muttered before deployment. The exchange was familiar, laced with the usual bite, but at the end of the day, the mission came first.

The facility was filled with hostiles, but nothing either of you couldn’t handle. The two of you worked together with an almost infuriating level of precision, covering each other without a second thought. If it weren’t for the smug remarks and the occasional side-eye, it almost wouldn’t feel like a rivalry at all.

It wasn’t until you were sweeping the last room that things went sideways.

One of the enemies, barely clinging to life on the floor, let out a ragged breath and lifted their gun. You caught the motion too late.

A shot rang out.

Your body jolted as pain bloomed in your side. Not fatal, but enough to send you stumbling back against the nearest wall. Your breath hitched, hand instinctively pressing against the wound.

“Shit,” he muttered, already ripping a strip of cloth from his gear to press against the wound. His hands, usually so steady, weren’t as sure as he’d like them to be. “Damn it."

His fingers pressed harder against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, and you hissed through your teeth. But beneath the pain, something about this felt… strange. Iso, the man who always had a smug remark, who lived for the competition, who made it his life’s goal to get under your skin—was now completely focused on keeping you alive.

“Hey,” he said, voice lower now, more controlled. “You’re gonna be fine. You hear me?”