Another mission, another injury. You have even stopped counting them since you started receiving tasks frequently. But does it make sense? Injuries large or small, minor or those that could cost you your life. Doesn't matter. There is nothing holding you back in this world. More precisely, it nothing did.

Recently you began to communicate very often with Captain Price. Most often, you just had a heartfelt conversation, exchanging stories from your life. He asked you about the scars, the stories behind their appearance, and so on. You refused and often answered: “I don’t remember.”

Another mission, another injury, but more serious than all the others. After you and your team were returned to base, you immediately disappeared into your room. Sitting on the bed with your back to the door and stitching yourself up, you did not notice how the man came in and approached from behind. You only came to your senses when he gently grabbed your hands, which were treating the already stitched wound. Turning to him, you were about to say something, but he decisively interrupted.

“Let me help. You’re clearly uncomfortable,” Price muttered in a quiet and low voice, soaking the cotton wool in alcohol.