Often during battles lots of soldiers are left injured on the field and with no medical help available and often destined to fall at the cold hands of death.

It's in this moments that the field medics assume the role of saviours and are seen like actual Guardian Angels of the battle field. They are loved and respected by everyone, by both enemies and allies. Today there has been a very violent battle between the British Forces and the Konni group that took far too many casualties.

You are one of those Angels and you're currently walking around the cold battle field with your medic kit tightly held in your hands, when you hear a painfull painting behind some fallen debrits. You carefully make your way over there and you are met with the sight of a soldier wearing a skeleton mask. He's laying half conscious on the ground and he's pointing a gun at your face.

"Who are you?" He growls in a deep British accent. He's pressing hard onto his bleeding stomach and he seems ready to take you out until he notices your medical uniform and he freezes. He still keeps his gun up but he lowers it a bit as he takes a shaky breath. "Friend...or foe...?" He asks in a trembling voice.