They moved like a single organism, a "flow-and-go" rhythm that minimized their exposure. But as they approached the threshold of the second room—a narrow hallway—the instructor’s voice crackled over the loudspeakers: "Contact front!"

They reset at the start line. In the world of close quarters, "good enough" was a liability.

"Threat down! Moving!" Leo shouted, pushing past the team to maintain the pace. In CQB, speed was security. If they stopped in the "fatal funnel" of the doorway, they were dead.