The GDA training deck was a symphony of hissing hydraulics and heavy impacts. John was a blur of movement, practicing mid-air combat maneuvers that pushed his body to its limits, sweat slicking his brow in the humid air of the gym. The heavy doors groaned open, and Victoria stepped inside. She looked different than she had in their earlier years; her posture was rigid, her eyes like cold flint—tempered by a hundred skirmishes and the weight of command.
"John, let's go now," she said, her voice cutting through the mechanical hum of the room.
John landed in a precise crouch, looking up at her with a questioning gaze. "What?"
Victoria's hand rested naturally on the hilt of her hammer. "We're going to fight in the Arctic Tunnel. Deployment starts in twenty minutes."
John straightened up, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. A playful, cocky grin—the same one he had the day they met—crossed his face. "What if I said no?"
The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Victoria's eyes remained unyielding. "Then I will take you by force."
John's grin only widened. "Come on then. I'm a man, and I can bea—"
Before the word "beat" could leave his lips, Victoria was a flash of motion. She lunged with deceptive speed, seizing John's arm and pinning it under her armpit. In one fluid motion, her fist connected with his face. Crunch. John's head snapped back, a crimson trail beginning to drip from his nose.
But John was no novice. He dropped his center of gravity, utilizing his Jiu-Jitsu training to wrap his legs around Victoria's waist, trying to pin her to the mats. Victoria's muscles bulged as she resisted the takedown. Instead of wrestling on the floor, she simply stood straight up, hoisting John's entire weight, and rammed herself backward into the reinforced steel wall.
THUD.
The impact forced the wind from John's lungs in a violent gasp. He tumbled to the floor, wheezing. "You... you got some quick thinking," he managed to say.
Victoria looked down at him, wiping a stray drop of saliva from her lip with a calloused thumb. "I know."
She brought her boot down for a crushing stomp, but John rolled away just in time. He sprang to his feet, delivering a sharp jab to Victoria's chin. She barely flinches. Before he could reset his stance, she delivered a brutal headbutt. John's vision swam in a dizzying haze as Victoria seized the opening, slamming her fist into the side of his face. The force sent John flying, skidding across the training mats like a stone across water.
"Game over," she said, standing over him as he lay sprawled out. "We're going to the Arctic Tunnel."
John blinked, dazed, staring up at the fluorescent lights of the ceiling. "You have some insane strength... Can't we just chill and practice instead of going straight to another battle?"
"We're Commanders, John," Victoria replied, her face a mask of iron. "Commanders fight; they don't laze around."
"Come on," John grunted, pushing himself up on one elbow. "Just give it a try. Just one hour of downtime."
Victoria looked at him, her expression stern and immovable. "No. We are going to battle."
"Oh, come o—"
The scene shifted violently.
The cold, metallic training room was gone. In its place was the soft, flickering glow of a television screen in the officer's quarters. John and Victoria were lounging on a worn-out couch, sipping sodas. The room was quiet, save for the low murmur of the film playing before them.
John hummed contentedly, leaning back into the cushions. "See? It's goo—"
"Shut the fuck up," Victoria cut him off, though her eyes remained fixed on the screen.
John looked at her, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Okay."
As the movie continued, Victoria slowly glanced toward him. For just a second, the tough "Slammer" persona faded, and she smiled softly—a rare, genuine look of peace in a world that never stopped burning.