The obstacle course is no joke, especially not in the drizzle. Mud clings to your boots as you pull yourself up the rope, hands firm, arms taut. Price watches from below, clipboard in hand, but his eyes aren't on the paper. You pull yourself up further, your shirt stretching, slipping slightly over your midsection. For a moment, something many don't expect becomes visible a powerful stomach, yes, soft around the edges, but beneath it, clearly defined muscles, hard-earned. Your arms support your weight without trembling.

You land at the top, swing over, and jump cleanly. On the ground, you straighten your shirt. Some of the soldiers look at you differently now. Less doubt. More respect.

"Time?" you ask in your rougher voice. Price glances at his watch. "Above average." Then he looks back up at you. "And technically sound." You nod. "I've done this before."