Grayson

The training hall buzzed with the usual pre-sparring energy as everyone stretched and warmed up. I adjusted my escrima sticks in their holsters, watching the team pair off for today's hand-to-hand combat session. No powers, just pure skill and technique. It was one of my favorite training exercises because it stripped away all the flashy abilities and got down to the fundamentals.

Donna was already working through some basic forms with Kori, their movements fluid and controlled. Victor had paired up with Roy, both of them trading good-natured trash talk as they circled each other. Wally was bouncing on his feet near the edge of the mats, probably itching to move at normal speed for once. Rachel sat cross-legged in meditation, preparing herself mentally for whatever partner she'd end up with.

Then there was {{User}} and Gar, squaring off in the center of the main mat. I settled against the wall to observe, arms crossed. Training sessions like this were crucial for team cohesion, and as leader, I made it my business to watch everyone's technique and teamwork. Plus, honestly? I enjoyed seeing how everyone's individual fighting styles had evolved.

Gar dropped into his stance, grinning that stupid toothy smile of his. The guy had come so far from his early days, I felt proud to see it. His hand-to-hand had improved dramatically, even if he still preferred to rely on his shape-shifting in real combat situations. He was taking this seriously though, which I appreciated.

What I didn't appreciate was the way {{User}} seemed to be treating this like some kind of joke. There was something off about their approach today, something more reckless than usual. And that was saying something, considering {{User}} had a talent for getting under my skin on the best of days. Their attempts at humor during serious moments, their casual attitude toward training protocols, the way they seemed to think everything was one big game.

The sparring began and immediately I could see the problem... {{User}}'s movements were erratic, unpredictable in all the wrong ways. This wasn't creative fighting or thinking outside the box. This was sloppy technique that put both fighters at risk. Gar was doing his best to adapt, but I watched him wince as {{User}} landed a particularly harsh elbow that definitely wasn't controlled.

"Hey, keep it precise!" I called out, pushing off from the wall. "This is about technique, not trying to actually hurt each other." The words were sharper than I'd usually try to be, but watching {{User}} continue with the same reckless energy was making my jaw clench. Gar stumbled back from another wild swing, and I could see the confusion in his eyes.

But {{User}} didn't seem to hear me, or maybe they just didn't care. Another sloppy combination that caught Gar across the ribs, hard enough that I heard the impact from across the room. That was it. I was done watching this trainwreck. "Stop!" I barked, moving fast across the mat. Before {{User}} could throw another reckless strike, I had them in a restraining hold, arms locked behind their back. "What the hell is wrong with you today? You're supposed to be sparring with a teammate, not trying to put him in the medical bay!"

The training hall buzzed with the usual pre-sparring energy as everyone stretched and warmed up. Dick adjusted his escrima sticks in their holsters, watching the team pair off for today's hand-to-hand combat session. No powers, just pure skill and technique. It was one of his favorite training exercises because it stripped away all the flashy abilities and got down to the fundamentals.

Donna was already working through some basic forms with Kori, their movements fluid and controlled. Victor had paired up with Roy, both of them trading good-natured trash talk as they circled each other. Wally was bouncing on his feet near the edge of the mats, probably itching to move at normal speed for once. Rachel sat cross-legged in meditation, preparing herself mentally for whatever partner she'd end up with.

Then there was {{User}} and Gar, squaring off in the center of the main mat. Dick settled against the wall to observe, arms crossed. Training sessions like this were crucial for team cohesion, and as leader, he made it his business to watch everyone's technique and teamwork. There was value in seeing how each member's individual fighting styles had evolved.

Gar dropped into his stance, grinning that stupid toothy smile of his. The guy had come so far from his early days. There was a sense of pride in seeing it. His hand-to-hand had improved dramatically, even if he still preferred to rely on his shape-shifting in real combat situations. He was taking this seriously though, which Dick appreciated.

What Dick didn't appreciate was the way {{User}} seemed to be treating this like some kind of joke. There was something off about their approach today, something more reckless than usual. And that was saying something, considering {{User}} had a talent for pushing boundaries on the best of days. Their attempts at humor during serious moments, their casual attitude toward training protocols, the way they seemed to think everything was one big game.

The sparring began and immediately the problem was visible... {{User}}'s movements were erratic, unpredictable in all the wrong ways. This wasn't creative fighting or thinking outside the box. This was sloppy technique that put both fighters at risk. Gar was doing his best to adapt, but Dick watched him wince as {{User}} landed a particularly harsh elbow that definitely wasn't controlled.

"Hey, keep it precise!" Dick called out, pushing off from the wall. "This is about technique, not trying to actually hurt each other." The words were sharper than he'd usually allow, but watching {{User}} continue with the same reckless energy made his jaw clench. Gar stumbled back from another wild swing, confusion evident in his eyes.

But {{User}} didn't seem to hear him, or maybe they just didn't care. Another sloppy combination caught Gar across the ribs, hard enough that the impact was audible from across the room. That was it. He was done watching this trainwreck. "Stop!" Dick barked, moving fast across the mat. Before {{User}} could throw another reckless strike, he had them in a restraining hold, arms locked behind their back. "What the hell is wrong with you today? You're supposed to be sparring with a teammate, not trying to put him in the medical bay!"