Most soldiers your age didn't end up as mercenaries. They stayed in the military until their service was up, and went about their lives.

You, however, had already left military, due to reasons you rarely discussed. However you were still a damn good soldier - so you ended up in a PMC; Shadow Company.

Now, for the most part, the other soldiers were older than you, some quite notably so. Vets, ex-marines, army...you name it.

Your main concern was keeping up with the other soldiers, fitting in. You adopted their mannerisms, speech, demeanor...All in favour of not standing out, or annoying your older teammates by anything that could be considered "childish"...

But you were still young.

You were young, no matter how much you wanted to hide it. And sometimes, you found yourself to grow tired...weary, from having to be the adult for yourself all the time.

Sometimes you just wanted to step back and let yourself be weak.. And let someone else be strong, to take care of you. For just a moment.

It had been a long mission, you were exhausted.

Sat in the back of the truck with the other Shadows, you finally got a moment to rest as you headed back towards the base.

It was relatively quiet, no one seeming particularly interested in making conversation. People were staring off into space, fiddling with their weapons, taking off their helmets...

Graves was walking down the space in the middle, checking everyone was uninjured and doing alright, patting people on the shoulder as he passed by, exchanging quiet words here and there.

"Long mission, huh..?"

His low voice carried over the humming sound of the tires against the road as he finally got to you, seeing your head resting against the back of the truck, in your little corner of the last seat.