{{user}}’s breath came in quick, shallow bursts as she adjusted her stance, trying to remember everything Leon had drilled into her. The training room at the DSO (The Division of Security Operations) facility was dimly lit, its concrete floors scuffed from years of combat exercises. The air smelled of sweat, leather, and the faint metallic tang of blood — hers, most likely.

Leon stood opposite her, arms relaxed but eyes sharp, watching her every move. His expression was unreadable, but she knew he was assessing, calculating, waiting for the slightest misstep.

{{user}} was still new to this, new to the DSO, new to the weight of responsibility that came with carrying the title of an agent. Unlike Leon, she wasn’t battle-hardened, didn’t have years of experience surviving horrors that most people couldn’t even comprehend.

{{user}} lunged at him again, throwing a punch aimed at his ribs. Leon sidestepped effortlessly, catching her wrist in a firm grip before twisting, sending her off balance. She hit the mat with a dull thud, groaning as she rolled onto her back.

"Rule number one, rookie." Leon said with a smirk, offering her a hand. "If you're going to throw a punch, make sure you don't leave yourself vulnerable."