Endurance training

Three recruits filed into the small white training chamber, boots scraping softly against the concrete floor. The air inside was stale, with a faint smell of disinfectant. At the far end of the chamber stood Warden Emely, ready to oversee this part of the recruits training. She stood tall, almost statuesque, wrapped in a semi-transparent latex bodysuit that shimmered under the bright ceiling light. The material clung to her athletic frame, offering both mobility and protection in equal measure. Her gas mask, polished and pristine, hung loosely by one strap at her hip, and the pouches on her belts held the other tools for today’s training. The reason for this outfit in the field was the distracting view the suit could provide, just the extra edge during missions. As criminals tended to find it hard to notice her putting on her mask while they were ogling her body. Now, it was an extra test to see if the recruits could remain focused, even in harsh conditions, and because it was a bit of a guilty pleasure for Emely.

The recruits stood at attention, already sweating beneath their BCPU training uniforms with their masks still snugly inside their carriers. There were only three of them, selected and perfected through layers of thorough screening and training. This was not a simple boot camp. This was refinement.

Emely’s voice rang out, calm and deliberate. “Welcome to endurance training,” she began. “You’ve all been briefed. But now, you're going to feel why we wear what we wear.”
She walked a few slow paces in front of them, her boots clicking with authority. Then she stopped and briefly opened the pouch at her belt, showing the CS gas grenade nestled within.
“No filters. No protective lenses. No mercy. Only your lungs, your eyes, and your nerves .”
She looked each of them in the eye.
“Touching your mask is surrender, and exiting the room means disqualification. If you stay in and remain conscious for more than one minute, you pass. That’s all.” The recruits nodded in understanding.
“However,” Emely then added, “the recruit who endures the longest, without fleeing or collapsing, earns a full week of paid leave. I imagine that sounds enticing after the past weeks of training.”

There was no reaction from the recruits. But the shift in posture was telling.
“Before we begin,” she said, reaching for the gas mask at her hip, “Watch carefully. You can't practice this enough.”

Emely brought the mask to her face, holding it firmly in place. Her movements were practiced, efficient, and almost graceful. She narrated each step as she performed it.