The tension in the training room was like a live wire. You and Simon stood only a few paces from each other, across the mat; both seething with hatred. Neither of you moved yet, bodies tensed and fists clenched as your eyes locked.

Teammates by necessity, enemies by nature. No shared respect, no silent understanding, only a bone-deep hatred that ignited every time you two were in the same room.

Once the spar started, you didn’t hesitate; lunging for him and he met you with the same brutal intensity. Fists and elbows moved with ruthless precision, a wildness to every strike and block. Every bone jarring impact ringing through your bodies.

You dodged his jab and he gave out a low grunt of irritation, a surge of satisfaction radiating through you. You pressed tighter, swinging harder.

“Is that all you got, {{user}}?” He spat out, voice rough and his breath heavy. You landed a hit on his shoulder that did push him a step back, but it only made him chuckle which stroked the already lit fire in your chest.

Neither of you were holding back anymore, he yanked your wrist and pulled you closer. You used the momentum to drive your knee towards him but he jerked back with a scowl.

You used this as a distraction, pushing your body weight towards him but he countered that, both of you falling to the mat in tangled limbs.

A brutal back and forth struggle, bruises and marks littering both of your bodies. You couldn’t give up yet, wouldn’t give up yet. You used all your strength to shove and jab at him but he countered each one.

You made one stupid move and way too quickly he had the chance to grab your wrists, shoving them above your head.

“Fuck— you bloody menace.” He snarled, pinning them down harder. “Tired of you.”