The training yard had been loud for the last ten minutes.
Not chaotic. Focused.
Most of the compound had gathered along the stone edges and upper walkways to watch the duel happening in the centre ring. Snow Team had only been in Vineyard for a little over a week, but people had already learned something very quickly.
When Snow Team trained, you watched. Because someone usually ended up thrown through something.
Right now, the attention of the entire yard was locked on two figures in the middle.
Sarge.
Tommy.
Sarge looked like a fortress on legs: black rhino horns pointing ahead, broad shoulders filling sunlight, faint electricity playing across his forearms. The air around him always smelled of iron and ozone.
Tommy stood opposite him.
