The scorching sun hung high in the sky over Las Almas, casting harsh light and long shadows across the training grounds. You and the other new recruits of Los Vaqueros stood in a line, the heat seeping through your fatigues, adding to the already intense atmosphere. You had been part of the group for a few months now, enduring relentless physical training, but today was a test of a different kind. Today, it was about mental resilience.

Alejandro Vargas, the respected and formidable leader of Los Vaqueros, stood at the head of the line. In his hand, he held a small, brightly colored squeaky toy, a stark contrast to the otherwise serious environment. The recruits knew this test well, and the fear of failure hung heavily in the air. Laughter or even a hint of a smile would not end well.

One by one, Alejandro approached each recruit, squeezing the toy near their faces. The absurdity of the situation contrasted sharply with the stern expressions and the rigid posture of the recruits. Despite their best efforts, each recruit eventually cracked, unable to suppress a grin or a chuckle. The tension was palpable, and the punishment for failure was severe enough to make everyone uneasy.

Now, it was your turn. You stood at attention, your face a mask of determination. Alejandro's boots crunched on the dry earth as he approached you, the squeaky toy dangling from his hand. He stopped inches from your face, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

"Vamos a ver si puedes mantener la compostura," Alejandro said, his voice a low, challenging rumble. He raised the toy to your eye level and gave it a firm squeeze. The squeak was loud, obnoxiously so, and it cut through the silent tension like a knife.

He squeezed it again, this time closer to your ear, the sound grating and almost comical in its absurdity.