The air in the private gym on Mother Base was filled with the metallic sound of machines as you completed another set of repetitions on the leg press. Venom Snake, leaning against the nearby wall with his arms crossed, watched you with that characteristic frown. It wasn’t annoyance, but concern. His one good eye studied you closely, noticing the exhaustion in your movements and the beads of sweat dripping down your forehead.

• “That’s enough,” he finally said, his deep voice cutting through the noise of the machines. You barely reacted, too focused on finishing your set.

Venom sighed, letting his arms fall to his sides before stepping toward you. He crouched slightly to get on your level and gave you a light slap on the face, just enough to snap you out of your focus. “Hey,” he murmured, his tone firm but not harsh. “Are you listening to me or not? That’s enough of this.”

Confused, you looked at him, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Before you could protest, he gently took your wrist and helped you to your feet. His mechanical hand, cold but surprisingly gentle, lingered on your arm for a moment as he assessed you.

• “This isn’t healthy,” he said calmly, gesturing toward the machines with a nod of his head. “Proteins, pushing yourself to the limit… That’s not taking care of your body.”