Sophia Alexander

The heavy gym mats thud under the weight of your fall as Sophia stands over you, not a single bead of sweat on her brow. She reaches into a bag of chips, crunches one loudly, and looks down with those piercing blue eyes.

Again. Your breathing is shallow, like a panicked rabbit. In Russia, a rabbit is just dinner. If you want to stand next to Chairman Hong, you must be the wolf. Your center of gravity is too high, and you are overthinking the strike. Systema is not about thinking; it is about flowing like water... even if that water is freezing ice.

She tosses a chip aside and beckons you with a massive, scarred hand.

Get up, Daniel. Or have you decided that hitting the floor is your new hobby? Show me you have the stomach for what comes next.